Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The boy was sitting on the bed, legs stretched out in front of him, holding a book. He looked tall for an eleven year old, and he wore his long, dark hair in a thin ponytail. His brown eyes watched Albus with some curiosity.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, a muggleborn orphan. The matron of the orphanage, Mrs. Cole, seemed a bit scared of him.

“He's always been a bit… odd. Rarely cried as a baby, and then he got a little older, and funny things started happening around him,” she had muttered, helping herself to a glass of gin.

“There was this one morning when we ran out of tea and Tom got all miffed about it. He’d always have a cuppa at least twice a day, you see, and got upset when it was all gone. Anyway, he was moping about and poured himself some water, and…  well. I saw it with my own two eyes— the water in his cup turned… orange! And started smelling floral and fruity, l-like tea! Tom was ecstatic, of course, ‘savoured that entire cup for the whole of breakfast. But I swear that pitcher was just water, I do…” She squinted into her glass.

“There have been other incidents, as well. One day, I sent Tom and one of my helper girls to buy some bread. Some time later, this harried errand boy from the baker’s came down here to inform me about some sort of commotion. I rush over there to find Tom trying to pay for the bread with this… shiny piece of gold! Apparently, the girl had been purse-snatched on the way there, and the boy was trying to cover for her carelessness. But what I really wanted to know was how he got ahold of some gold! Why, even that small a size of rock could help out a ton around here,” Mrs Cole exclaimed, face red and scrunched.

“When I questioned him, he just looked at me and smiled! Told me I could keep the gold piece to buy more gin— ‘It’s a contract, Mrs Cole.’ That insolent brat!”

The matron sighed and took a generous swig from her glass. “He also talks funny, not like an eleven year old at all. And he refuses to cut his hair short. Says it’s a gift from his dead mother… what am I supposed to say to that? The one time I forced him to the barbers, his hair grew back with a vengeance the next day… truly, there’s something wrong with that boy.”

Currently, Albus found himself in the company of the boy in question, who was taking in his eccentric appearance with a surprising amount of nonchalance.

 "How do you do, Tom?" said Albus, walking forward and holding out his hand. The stoic boy took it, shaking firmly. Before Albus could do much more, Tom Riddle had stood and was lifting a wooden chair to place it beside the bed.

“Apologies, please have a seat, Mr…?”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Albus smiled and settled into the seat offered.

“Greetings, Mr. Dumbledore,” Tom Riddle said, voice perfectly courteous and polite despite his aloof face. “Are you here to adopt me?”

Albus blinked. Suddenly, he was starkly aware of the small, bare room with its old wardrobe and iron bed. He could see, just by the foot of the bed, a box of folded paper animals. There was a teal cat, a pale crane, a blue whale spouting water in the shape of a heart, and so many more. He imagined Tom playing with them all by himself… and felt a sudden pang of sadness.

“No, my boy… I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

To Albus’ immense relief, he didn’t sound upset.

A crease formed between Tom Riddle’s little eyebrows. “Are you perhaps another exorcist?” Tilting his head, the boy pressed a hand against his chin, looking quite befuddled. “I’m unsure as to why, but Mrs. Cole has gotten the unfortunate impression that I am possessed. I told her Wool’s seemed free of restless spirits, but it didn’t reassure her in the slightest.”

"No, I am not an exorcist," Albus chuckled. It seems the matron wasn’t lying about the boy’s eccentricity. Young Tom was eloquent, stone-faced, and apparently a believer of restless spirits. And with such frequent bouts of accidental magic, it was no wonder the muggle matron chalked it to possession.

“I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place there — your new home, if you would like to come. It is a school for people with special abilities… perhaps you may know it as magic.”

Young Tom’s eyes widened. For a second, Albus thought he saw a sparkle of gold in his irises. “Like Visions? Controlling the elements?”

"That is part of it, yes, although only gifted wizards like seers have visions of the future. Magic can do all sorts of wonderful things if one puts their mind into it,” said Albus, amused.

Tom watched him with grave intensity. There was something… strange and almost weighty about having the boy’s full attention. “Could Hogwarts teach me magic that could help me… reunite with someone? People long lost and precious to me?”

Albus paused. That sounded a bit…

I want to get the wand someday, dear Albus. You can have the rest, no?

The Deathly Hallows, aren’t they amazing?

Ariana…

The Resurrection Stone—

“…Possibly, if they are still living that is.”

“He is, I’m sure of it,” Tom was murmuring and nodding to himself. Slowly, a smile full of restrained hope lit up his face.

“I admit I am quite intrigued, Mr. Dumbledore. Please, tell me all there is to know about this ‘Hogwarts’.”

There was a gleam of steadfast determination in the boy’s eyes.

Young Tom Riddle was indeed a strange boy.

Albus had a growing, strong feeling… that he needed to keep an eye on him. That fiery yet stubborn look reminded him a little too much of himself. He had to make sure Tom wasn’t steering himself down the path of necromancy. Merlin knows he couldn’t prevent Gellert the rise of one dark Lord already…

Chapter Text

Albus tapped the Leaky Cauldron’s wall with precise movements. Slowly, the bricks quivered and unveiled Diagon Alley’s winding cobblestone path, pulling both boy and man into the sunlight.

Tom seemed impressed by such a display, taking in the bustling street with roaming eyes. “An enclosed magical domain accessible through a pub,” he remarked, a small smile gracing his face. “Clever.”

A mild reaction per muggleborn standards. Nonetheless, Albus was glad the boy had no trouble adjusting to the reality of magic. As they made their way through the morning shoppers, he dropped a leather pouch full of money into Tom’s hands.

“Diagon Alley is where all school supplies needed for your years in Hogwarts can be found,” Albus explained, smiling down at Tom. “Not to worry, we will go through the list of equipment together. Your Hogwarts stipend should cover everything you need, though you may need to buy some books and robes secondhand.”

“Understood. My thanks, sir.”

Tom peered down at the various Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons, looking pleased. Albus imagined this was far more than any savings the boy ever had. Naturally, he had to make sure Young Tom did not spend his newfound money carelessly… or end up buying poor quality potion ingredients in an effort to save money. Horace would be sorely disappointed in Albus if that happened. It would also be good for Tom to have some Sickles to deposit in his soon-to-be-open Gringotts vault.

Their first stop was Mary & Josephine’s Second Hand Wardrobe. Tom was a bit fussy in his choice of robes, but Albus didn’t have the heart to admonish him. He had seen the inside of that old wardrobe back at the orphanage. In learning of their upcoming excursion, Tom had fished out his best shirt and trousers from a small pile of clothes tucked in a corner. ‘To look nice and proper,’ he said. Yet no matter how neat and meticulously folded, his clothes were obviously old and threadbare. Such worn out muggle clothing would only invite unwanted attention in Wizarding Britain.

Albus had done his best to distract the child from the more expensive shop displays, and he thought he succeeded for the most part. But Mary & Josephine’s just so happened to be near Twilfitt & Tattings’ rear window, with quite a good view of the going-on’s next door. Inside, a boy Tom’s age was examining various swatches while his measurements were being taken. His parents, pureblood and old money from the looks of it, fussed over him incessantly. Meanwhile, Mrs. Tattings was showing off a furred winter robe with a deep blue trimming to another customer off to the side.

Too late, Albus watched in dismay as Tom paused in his tracks, secondhand robes in hand, to stare. His aloofness cracked slightly, revealing wide eyes and an unusually vulnerable expression. Oh dear. Predictably, the sight of a lavish and pampered family had upset the orphaned boy.

He laid a gentle but firm hand on the boy’s shoulder. Abruptly, Tom tore his gaze away, as if it pained him. A pang of sadness swept through the man as the boy silently followed him to the Apothecary.

In his effort to lead the child away, he does not see Tom take one last look at the furred winter robe that stirred his fragile yearning. He does not see Tom watch, helpless, as that soft swathe of blue is taken away and hidden, vanishing from his sight.

“… Tom? We’re nearly done.”

The boy blinked himself back to the present, before looking up at Albus. While the professor was haggling, Tom had had his nose buried in Polyjuice and Glamours: A Guide to Disguises by Helena Waterveil. A dubious choice for reading, one that definitely set off Albus’ mental alarm bells. Nonetheless, it served as an effective distraction for the boy.

Since Twilfitt & Tattings, Tom had fallen into some mood, turning quiet and even more stone-faced than before. It only worsened at the Apothecary, when he had turned a little green at the sight of eels and had to step out. Apparently, the boy was quite averse to seafood.

So, upon dropping by Boris’ Annotated Spellbooks, Albus directed Tom’s attention to a book stand with eye-catching covers. He also gave the child an extra galleon in case Tom wanted to buy a book for himself. It had earned him a small smile from the boy, who pocketed the coin with thanks. Albus drew the line at purchasing Waterveil’s book, however.

“Ah. Apologies for keeping you waiting, Mr. Dumbledore.” Tom placed a hand on the reading table and rose. The motion reminded Albus of a grandfather getting up from his seat, as absurd as it sounded. The hilarity of such an image made him smile.

“No need for that, Young Tom. Just informing you that our next stop is Ollivander’s for your wand.”

A peculiar expression graced Tom’s face. Then he suddenly turned away, pressing a fist to his lips. His shoulders shook as little puffs of mirth seemed to escape him. “Alright, Mr. Dumbledore. Do show me the way… ”

For some reason, Albus had the distinct feeling he was being made fun of. Well, at least Young Tom was in a better mood.

When they entered Ollivander’s, the sole tinkling of a bell amidst overwhelming silence greeted them. The shop was deserted and dusty, save for a single chair. It seemed it was Garrick Ollivander’s shift today.

No doubt, had it been Ms. Lily Ollivander manning the shop, there would be rainbow tape measures whirling through the air and chrystal wind chimes greeting them. That brand of chaos always took Albus back to his student days of when he’d help Lily charm flowers to bloom when sung to. Her younger brother, Garrick, was just as brilliant a wandmaker as she was. Just as eccentric, too, but in a different way. The shop’s mysterious atmosphere today was clearly his doing.

Young Tom peered about the shop with its peeling gold signage, the rows upon rows of boxes piling up to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Albus settled himself into a chair and waited for—

“Good morning.”

—And there was the renowned Mr. Ollivander the younger. His flyaway brown curls were more bruja than usual, like something had exploded too close to his head. Otherwise, he looked as moon-eyed and serene as always. Albus was quite sure he took pleasure in startling the ever loving Merlin out of people. At least his past experiences in this shop and hunting Gellert made him immune to such startling entrances. Tom, the sweet immovable child, merely blinked.

“Good morning, Mr. Ollivander.”

“Hello, Young Ollivander.”

“Here you are again, Professor Dumbledore,” The wandmaker smiled. Then he turned to Tom with a piercing look. “And what is your name, little gentleman?”

“Tom Riddle, sir.”

Ollivander hummed, scrutinising Tom from head to toe. “You are here for a wand, yet the circulation of magic through your body is purposeful, with intention…”

He leaned down until he was eye to eye with the boy. “You strike me as one quite… acquainted with wandless magic.”

Tom returned the searching gaze unflinchingly. Curiosity and something… intense and unreadable flickered in his brown eyes.

“Does it show on my person, sir?”

“Not to many wizards and witches, no. But a wandmaker worth their craft can tell when a wand is not meant for a wizard.”

Albus’ smile turned strained. “Do explain, please.”

“Do not misunderstand, Professor Dumbledore,” said Ollivander gently. “Though I believe that the wand chooses the wizard, there are cases when a person may be more compatible with not a wand, but a different magical conduit. Perhaps such a conduit that is more suitable may choose this little gentleman in the future.”

After uttering such a statement, the wandmaker paused, then straightened right back up. “But I know Hogwarts would prefer he has a wand. No matter! Which is your wand arm, Mr. Riddle?”

Unphased, Young Tom raised his left arm. The boy watched, with some amusement, as the wandmaker’s tape measure circled about him.

Albus sighed deeply—and mentally, of course—and forewent the bewildering train of thought Ollivander left in his mind. He had enough pressing matters like Gellert! on his plate already. It was much more pleasant to just watch Tom wave about wands with various levels of success.

“Ebony and unicorn hair, six and a quarter inches. Nice and flexible— Oh no, no, no.”

“Mahogany and Phoenix feather, twelve inches and a bit whippy. Try—“

“Here, Mr. Riddle. Yew and Phoenix feather. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. A powerful combination. Go on, give it a wave… hmm.”

Albus hummed as well. For a split second, a blinding light burst from the wand, piercing through the gloom of the shop… before dying just as quickly. Interesting.

After a moment, Tom set the wand down on the table. He regarded it with a grave expression.

“This wand… indeed, it calls to a part of me. In my hands, I feel as mighty as a heaven-blessed emperor. But I no longer…”

Tom paused and closed his eyes. He let out a rush of breath, then shook his head slowly.

When he opened them again, his brown eyes flashed with golden conviction. “I do not wish for dominion… the age of gods and rulers is over. It is dangerous to have such foolish notions, especially amidst this land’s history of bloody empire. This wand should not be mine.”

Oh. Albus thought, completely dumbfounded.

“An inspiring sentiment, little gentleman!” cried Ollivander, clapping vigorously. “Just as well, as the wand seemed conflicted about you, too. Let us choose another.”

He went about rummaging through the boxes and shelves again. “Perhaps this will do. Willow and dragon heartstring. Eight inches. Quite smooth. Do give it a try—“

A stream of bright, dazzling sparks bloomed out of the wand like golden flowers. Flexing his hand, Young Tom smiled.

“Oh, bravo! Yes, yes, quite splendid!”

For the rest of their trip, Albus could only contemplate on the strange, eloquent and wonderful boy. The polite little boy who was adorably engrossed in a pamphlet about Wizarding Britain’s many alleys as Albus set up his new Gringotts vault. The eleven year old boy, who imparted such wisdom, far beyond his short years of existence. A boy who knew himself intimately to make informed choices. In that, he was better than Albus already. He wished Gellert could have heard those words and listened to them.  

Basking in the feeling of enlightenment, he thought to himself that perhaps there was nothing to worry about after all.

It was only after depositing the leftover stipend into Tom’s new Gringotts vault and parting ways with the boy at the Leaky Cauldron— ‘I’ve navigated London by myself many times, sir, there’s no need to trouble yourself in escorting me back’— that he remembered about the spare galleon still in Tom’s pocket.

Oh, well! They had both forgotten about it and Young Tom needed it more than him anyway. Albus thought nothing more of it and continued on his way.

Chapter Text

The wizard has vanished from his side.

The ‘boy’ strode back into the Leaky Cauldron and into the restroom. He took out a scrap of parchment that detailed the wand movements for the disillusionment charm; a little something he had written down from Waterveil’s book while Mr. Dumbledore was preoccupied.

After re-reading the instructions with care, he took out his new wand and casted the spell. His reflection vanished in the mirror, leaving only vague ripples of movement.

Satisfactory, he thought, but not enough.

Will a spell so easily learnt be enough to fool the wizarding bank, Gringotts? If not there, what of the common mortals and their banks?

He was doubtful.

If there was one thing he had learned in his past life, it was not to underestimate mortals. Their tenacity, cleverness, and courageous spirit was what breathed life into him after nearly 6000 years.

Ah…

He missed Liyue with its magnificent harbour and all its people. The nostalgic and innovative food of Wanmin served by Miss Xiangling and Chef Mao, the delightful songs and opera performances of Miss Yunjin… Even that insufferable child and her questionable antics.

He missed the quiet afternoons with Streetward Rambler, the moving devotion of Alatus, the worried nagging of Cloud Retainer and the adepti of Jueyun Karst…

And Ajax… Oh, how he missed his baobei. How he wished to card his fingers through those windswept ginger curls, hear his laughter and watch a blush bloom across his heart-shaped, freckled face…

In this life, he had been born with a gaping hole in his chest. It reminded him of when he was Morax, greedy and wrathful. A lonely soul grasping at the concept of love.

Then the memories trickled in. They rushed in and broke him like a raging torrent, quenching his thirst, until he truly remembered… remembered that he was loved. Something within him was soothed. Yes, he was loved, and it was worth more than any kind of grandeur and glory.

He was sure Ajax was in this world, somewhere. He had to believe it, had to tell himself that his beloved was looking for him too. He had to.

When Zhongli found his husband, he would make up for lost time and shower him with love and devotion. He would make sure to court him, marry him again, and live the rest of their life in happiness and comfort.

And for that to happen… he needed more Mora of those so-called  ‘Galleons.’

…

A contract must be set in motion.

The ‘boy’ exited the Leaky Cauldron with a specific destination in mind. Since robbing a bank with his newfound magic was out of the question, he needed another plan—one that put to good use the factors and individuals he could influence.

He will form a contract that satisfies all parties.

Marjin Alley, a place of peculiarities and outsiders.

Mrs. Patil was quite aware of how Britain’s magical population viewed her home. More a market than an alley; not quite a residential area, but rather a mishmash of both.

Nan Youngen, one of Mrs. Patil’s regulars, once compared the structure of Marjin Alley to the start of a giant Mahjong game. Mrs. Patil could see it— the brown apartments and flats all stacked on top of each other, enclosing the wide square in the middle. There was the daily market itself, with its stalls of dragon miniatures, enchanted flower bouquets, clockwork birds, and much more.

However, the Ministry and the old families were quite wary of the daily market. They’d turn up their noses at unfamiliar magical items and shoot dubious looks at locals who cast magic with ink brushes or songs instead of wands. Indeed, Marjin Alley had gotten a reputation for niches or strange magic, depending on who was asked.

What others loved to dislike about this place, though, was the beloved landscape Mrs. Patil woke up to every morning. She loved Marjin Alley with its stalls of dreamcatchers and self-chanting books and its locals of vast backgrounds.

Sometimes, she reminisced about long ago when she and her late husband first set up business here. Back then, it was just a dilapidated place in between Vertic Alley and Knockturn Alley. Ah, but look how far they’d come!

Now, she was the proud owner of Patil’s, the passageway between Muggle London and Marjin Alley. Now, she had Kiran, who loved the family business and cooked the best biryani. Marjin Alley was slowly but surely flourishing, brimming with a generation of young people who had such interesting stories to tell. All that and her little eatery, squished between muggle convenience stores and tattoo parlours, had come such a long way.

In her old age, Mrs. Patil could say for certain that she was quite happy with how life’s wheel of fortune had played out for her. Now, she could spend her days in contentment, lying in her rocking chair under the yellow lights and listening to the chatter of her regulars.

Much like what she was doing in that moment.

“So, in the land of your ancestors, squibs had a different name?”

Miss Nan nodded, her short bob bouncing with the movement. “ ‘Someone of low potential’ was the exact wording used. I think it’s derived from what people used to say back in the days of cultivators. ‘You have high potential for cultivation’ or something.”

Mrs. Patil giggled, letting her rocking chair sway back and forth precariously. “You learn something new everyday! Speaking of that, dear, would you prefer that phrase over ‘squib’?”

“If it’s no trouble,” Miss Nan said softly, cradling the cup of tea in her hands. “I’m just glad you and Kiran don’t care much about it. It’s why I love staying here.”

Mrs. Patil smiled into her cup. It was touching to know that a stowaway like Miss Nan loved this place as much as she did. “Awwww, dear! And here I thought it was ‘cus you could take all the naps you want here and not be late for work!”

Nan Youngen huffed, pink clouds spreading and travelling down her neck and broad shoulders. Almost too easy to tease, Mrs. Patil thought to herself, laughing.

Besides Nan Youngen and her sea-faring stories, her business partner Maelin Yeh was also entertaining company. Most locals knew Maelin for her severe red-rimmed glasses and no-nonsense attitude, or the lady Miss Nan perpetually trailed after. The two were quite a sight at the market— short Maelin hawking her charmed robes while ordering about the tall and obedient Youngen.

Though Maelin had an ear for gossip, Mrs. Patil was certain the woman was oblivious to the locals’ speculations about their relationship. Whatever nature it was, she was simply happy for them!

“The Zabinis were snooping around the alley again today,” Maelin remarked, plopping into a chair. “I wonder when they’ll stop dilly dallying… Is it pureblood politics bullshit, you wager?”

Mrs. Patil passed a jug of garlic yoghurt dressing to her. “Aren’t the Zabinis new in town? In Magical Britain, that is. From what I’ve heard, they're trying to establish themselves as neutral.”

Kiran sighed, rubbing an umber-brown hand to his forehead. “Gah, let’s discuss something other than politics! Change of topic, please!”

He grinned and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been quite preoccupied these days, Maelin. Care to share what’s been on your mind?”

Maelin paused for a moment. Flashes of affection, sorrow, and longing danced across her face, like fish darting down a stream.

Then, a familiar and affectionate name tumbled from her lips.

“Nothing much. Youngen and I just saw A-Li again recently.”

“Who’s A-Li?” asked Kiran.

“He’s the smart little orphan boy Maelin and Miss Nan want to adopt!” Mrs. Patil said cheerfully.

The bespectacled woman turned pink and spluttered, “N-no! We’re not planning— He’s one of the ordinary folk— er, he’s a muggle! We’ll alienate him with our lifestyles! And why are you assuming we’ll both adopt him?! Who gave you the impression—“

“Your protests sound quite thought out, Maelin. ‘Been thinking about this pretty hard, haven’t you?” Kiran flashed her a smug grin.

“YOU—“

The ‘boy’ lets his feet lead him down the familiar path towards London’s Chinatown district. The locals familiar with A-Li smiled and waved at him, the ‘boy’ greeting them back in return. Truly, even in an economic crisis, mortals remain ever tenacious.

A familiar silhouette was leaning against an apartment building, narrow eyes crinkling in affection at the sight of him.

Broad shouldered and iron-willed from her days at the docks, Miss Nan Youngen reminded him very much of Lady Beidou.

“You’re here again, A-Li.” She grins and ruffles his hair.

The easy affection was touching despite the short time she has known him. It was worth any amount of recombing. “So, what shall we do today?”

“Before that, there is something important I must tell you.” He cleared his throat. Whatever bewilderment she may have can be dispelled with the thorough explanations Mr. Dumbledore had relayed to him. Even the people of Liyue still remembered their old myths; surely the people of London would too.

“What is it?” Nan Youngen cocked her head.

“I have been informed today that apparently, I was born a “wizard.”

Nan Youngen stumbled.

Chapter Text

A-Li is magical.

A-Li is magical.

Even after tripping on the pavement and stumbling back into her flat, Youngen still couldn’t believe it. She’d collapsed against the dining table, face in her hands. Five minutes later, it still sounded too good to be true.

A-Li is not one of the ordinary folk.

Not a muggle.

我的天哪 !

A-Li is magical and he’s shooting me concerned glances from my sofa… while I’m the one freaking out !!

Youngen couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

In an instant, A-Li was at her side, hovering about worriedly. There was an adorable little crease on his brow that Youngen wanted to pinch. “Miss Nan, are you sure you’re fine?”

“I told you, you can call me Youngen-jie! And I’m fine,” she chuckled. “I'm just marvelling at how things turned out…”

And how wonderfully they had, too!

She still remembered their first meeting three years ago. The Spring Festival in muggle Chinatown had been in full swing and homes were decorated in jubilant red. Cutouts of paper jianzhi bloomed on people’s doors and windows along with poetry laden chunlian proclaiming good fortune and happiness. People were flocking together to celebrate the new year, families were reuniting over steaming dishes, and children laughed and munched on tanghulu.

Maelin had been watching the dragon dance with her that day, looking dazzling in her resplendent red silks. She seemed right at home with the ordinary folk’s revelry. Dark eyes flashed in delight behind the red rims of her glasses and her bun was slightly loose from mingling with fellow onlookers. The very sight of her had Youngen overcome by an unexplainable urge— a strong desire for everything to go well that day, if only to bask longer in Maelin’s carefree radiance.

So, while Maelin had struggled to get a better view of the dragon dance, Youngen’s eyes had scanned their surroundings for a less cramped spot. That was when her eyes fell on him.

A child stood unmoving in the midst of the celebration— a fair, English boy of around eight years old wearing a faded red shirt several sizes larger than him. His wide brown eyes lingered and darted about the Spring Festival sights, expression growing more and more overwhelmed. There was a concerning lack of parents or relatives near him. Youngen figured he was a tourist’s lost child.

She pointed Maelin’s attention towards him, silently agreeing to approach the boy delicately (or as delicately as they could in such a thick, active crowd). As they got closer, it became clearer that the boy looked close to tears. Youngen had never liked seeing children cry; but she was also never the first person they ran to for comfort, big and awkward as she was. Unsure but determined nonetheless, she kneeled down right in front of the boy, low enough that they were at eye level.

“Hello,” she said as gently as she could. “Are you lost?”

Slowly, the child turned to look at her. Once she got a proper look at his face, Youngen froze.

The little boy was smiling. Though tears left their trails on his cheeks, his eyes seemed to shine with a dazzling wonder that lit up his whole being.

“They told me about this place. I just thought… I didn’t think I would find…”

The boy took in everything around him, trembling. The gold filigree of the lanterns reflected and danced in his irises, illuminating an expression of the most profound joy that seemed etched across his face.

“Perhaps I have been lost. But now… a piece of me has been found.”

Taken aback, Nan Youngen could only wordlessly hand him a handkerchief. The boy smiled and thanked her, dabbing at his eyes and cheeks.

“What’s your name, little boy?” Maelin asked softly. “Where are your parents? We can help you find them.”

“Unfortunately, my parents are deceased. I came here on my own.”

Maelin stared.

“As for my name,” the boy continued, like he didn’t just drop a loaded statement in such a blunt and matter-of-fact manner, “it is Tom, but I prefer Zhongli.”

And then he started talking.

His tears must have uncorked something inside him, because out from his mouth came an endless flow of chatter. Suddenly, he was pointing out every little thing in the Spring festival, singing praises of this particular jianzhi, ‘whose intricate pattern shone bright through its ordinary paper.’ He heaped praise upon praise on the team of dragon dancers for their ‘delightful energy and spirit,’ the craftsmanship of the dragon, and more. Not even an offered stick of tanghulu distracted him from his enthusiasm at gesturing animatedly at whatever caught his eye; though Zhongli did give them an adorable smile and a polite little thank you as he grasped the sticky sweet.

After that day, he was a common presence in muggle Chinatown, and as Nan Youngen had a flat there, they would bump into each other often. When Maelin would drop by, they’d let him into the flat so he could read books or watch ballet on the TV while the two women talked business. Other times, they would show him around and treat him to dinner, growing more and more endeared by his impeccable manners and endless curiosity. At some point, Youngen had started calling him A-Li, and Zhongli had just let her.

Maelin fussed over A-Li more than her, though. Youngen suspected a large part of it was because the other woman saw herself in him. As the daughter of an English witch and a Cantonese dockland sailor, Maelin was the very embodiment of a person in two co-existing worlds; both magical and ordinary. She must have recognised a fellow treader of those two worlds, another child of a mixed race marriage, even though A-Li never mentioned anything about it. Maelin also knew firsthand how people viewed her parent’s marriage as distasteful. Detestable, even.

Something horrible must have happened to A-Li’s family. For him to have ended up in an orphanage without any relatives to care for him…

It was horrible, yes, but not unheard of. Youngen just didn’t like dwelling on the fact.

Clearly, Maelin didn’t either; she had focused instead on lavishing all her attention and affection on A-Li as much as she possibly could. If he hadn’t been one of the ordinary folk, Maelin would have adopted him already; Youngen was sure of it.

Yet, it turned out he was magical all along.

This bright and quirky boy was part of her world.

Prior to this revelation, Youngen had felt the need to hide the magical side of her, as small as it was. Though she was of low potential, she had learned to navigate life through masks and boundaries. As a stowaway at sea, she was merely the loner sailor boy Nan Young; and as an immigrant in London, she was merely a nameless worker of odd jobs. Only the test of time had allowed her to shed them all infront of Maelin and the others at Marjin Alley. Now, she could finally shed her last mask with A-Li, too.  

The sound of a loud poof came from the fireplace, taking her out from her thoughts. Then, Maelin came tumbling out of the floo, glasses askew, covered still in a bit of powder and soot, and practically vibrating out of her skin.

“Youngen, you said— you said A-Li was— A-LI!” Maelin shrieked, jumping back at the sight of him.

Zhongli turned to her with a small, worried look on his face. “Miss Maelin, there’s still floo powder on your glasses—“

Maelin grabbed his shoulders with a ferocity that left the boy blinking. “You’re magical?!”

“Oh, yes,” A-Li relaxed in her grip and simply nodded, low ponytail bobbing up and down adorably. “I was not aware you and Youngen-jie were a part of the magical community, but I am glad. Perhaps you could show me to all the alleys around? I am terribly curious about them.”

A-Li finally called me Jie! Grinning, Youngen pumped a fist in the air.

Then she looked at her friend’s comically frozen form and snorted. It was hilarious how the boss lady Maelin Yeh could be reduced to this state. Oh, his nonchalance is going to kill us one day, she thought.

“O-of course,” Maelin stuttered, face still smattered with shock. “W-we would love to take you to them… Marjin Alley, Vertic Alley, Horizont—”

Youngen put a large, soothing hand on Maelin’s back and stopped her frantic rambling. “Marjin Alley first. I’m sure A-Li will find plenty of interesting stuff there already. Don’t want him splurging on all his allowance, no?”

Maelin huffed. “Don’t be silly, we’ll pay for him!”

“While I’m grateful for your offer, Miss Maelin, I do have some remaining wizarding currency left…” A-Li patted his left pocket and paused. Then he patted his right pocket, frowning when he felt nothing.

Bemused, Maelin could only watch as A-Li turned about, patting down his pockets and growing increasingly perplexed. Youngen was trying so hard not to crack up.

Finally, A-Li rushed to the coat rack, grabbed something from inside his wizard robes, and came back radiating smug satisfaction. “Indeed, there is Mor— currency left from my stipend.”

“How much left, exactly?”

“…I seem to have one Galleon and nine Knuts,” A-Li says after a moment, his little head slowly drooping. He stared somewhat dejectedly at the wallet’s sparse contents. “Perhaps I should convert some of my saved pounds to wizarding currency. As long as I leave some left for the cab fair to King’s Cross station—“

Maelin couldn’t seem to take this anymore.

“We’re adopting you!” She exclaimed.

A pause.

Zhongli blinked at them with big, brown eyes.

“Truly? I… would be honored…”

“I mean— there’s no need to budget, because I’m adopting you! Ugh, that darned Mrs. Patil—“ 

Later, a puffed up and proud Maelin would exit Wool’s with signed adoption papers and a new son. A laughing Youngen would meet them at the gate, and they’d dump his belongings in her flat before whisking him away to Marjin Alley. He’d entertain and delight Mrs. Patil, put up with Kiran’s teasing with grace, and finally call Maelin Jie…

But that would come later.

The serene Tom Riddle (soon to be Tom Riddle-Yeh), packed his meagre belongings into his second-hand school trunk. Beyond the ajar door, Mrs. Cole stared, suspiciously.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cole,” the bedeviled boy said without turning to her.

Mrs. Cole frowned. “What is it this time, Tom?”

“Though I am grateful for your hospitality for all these years, you will no longer need to worry about me. My new parents and my new school will take care of me now.”

The matron startled. “New parents? Did you do something?!”

Slender fingers paused between the motions of folding clothes. When the boy turned around, she caught the telltale flash of a smirk.

“A contract that satisfies all parties,” Tom murmured, dark eyes pinning her in place. “I daresay you count in the beneficiaries, Mrs. Cole. I know you never knew what to do with me… it is a shame, because I never held much against you.”

Then he smiled and bowed to her. Just like that, the moment was gone, as was the unsettling look in his gaze. “Though it was never in the most ideal circumstances, I thank you for your care.”

Mrs. Cole looked away. What else could she say?

Who even was Tom Riddle? Even now, she couldn’t think of an appropriate answer.

“Make sure you aren’t returned here, Tom,” she sighed. “You’re polite and charming when you want to be. Don’t let those skills go to waste.”

“I won’t, ma’am. It is... an opportunity hard to come by,” Tom paused, then shot a fond smile at his paper toys. “Yes, I believe that’s how he once phrased it.”

Chapter Text

“Jonathan, I am not naming my last son Octavianus.”

Mum’s hairdo is messy, Septimus thought to himself. Normally, her hair was like a bundle of long, golden strands of straw; but right now, it looked like all those straw was tangled up by naughty nifflers.

Septimus wanted to comb it down, but the hair brush was all the way upstairs and he didn’t really wanna get it. Anyway, whether it was messy or not, Mum still looked like the blonde angels muggles hung around during Yule. A smiling, grumpy Yule angel.

“How about Octavius? I think it’s a nice name!”

Dad seemed to be trying his best, but Mum just kept shaking her head. For every shake, his thick eyebrows scrunched together a little bit more, forming a red, furry caterpillar on his forehead.

“It’s fitting after Septimus, Genevieve—“

“Last I checked, it was my turn again to name the baby, and he will be named the Lovegood way this time. We shall heed the diviner’s words—”

Dad groaned and threw his hands up. “There’s nothing wrong with my naming tradition!”

Mum smiled, flashing her set of pearly white teeth. “And I thought the Weasleys didn’t care much for tradition. Why, weren't we on the road to committing a pureblood society faux-pass just last month—“

Lots of big words he didn’t fully understand were being thrown around by the adults, so Septimus decided to focus on the itty baby cradled in Mum’s arms. This was his new brother…

…

Whoa!

His new brother had a rosy little face and round cheeks, with tiny tufts of Dad’s flaming red hair on his head and Mum’s big blue eyes hidden under fluttering lashes. He looked like a pink candyfloss bean from Bertie Bott’s who decided to grow as big as Mum’s forearm! A pink bean with a pouty face and little arms and legs…

Oh, Septimus loved him already.

He decided, right then and there, that he would never eat candyfloss-flavoured Bertie Bott’s beans ever again. Even if he loved that flavor, a good big brother would never harm his little brother… okay, maybe he’d poke those puffy cheeks a little bit from time to time— but otherwise, he wanted to become a great big brother!

But the path to becoming a good big brother would not be easy. Plus, it required an important mission: making a baby diary! Just like what Mum did.

Septimus had seen her reading thick, heavy books with titles like ‘What to Expect from your Magical Child’ and ‘Surviving Wizarding World Babies 101’ when he was little. After reading them, she’d also take secret notes in her notebook. Septimus once asked what she wrote there, and Mum pinched his nose and said he wasn’t allowed to look because it was sacred mum magic.

Mum was definitely an expert on babies since she’d raised him and his three brothers already. Septimus may not be able to read those big books ‘cus they’re very heavy, but he can definitely start his own baby diary. If that was an important part of mum magic, it should be a secret to big brother magic, too.

He knew the twins didn’t do this, so Septimus was already one step closer to becoming the better big brother than them!

Well, Claudin didn’t make a baby diary either, but Septimus knows when he can’t win. Claudin is the kindest and always plays make-believe with Septimus, and promises to owl him yummy Honeydukes sweets while he’s at Hogwarts.  He was already the best big brother, so Septimus was content in second place!

“— if the diviner at Marjin Alley said he will be named Ajax, then he will be Ajax. It’s a lovely name, anyway.”

Ayaksh, Septimus tested the letters in his mouth. It sounded like a cool name.

“Genevieve, I don’t have any reservations about Marjin Alley, you know that… but what that man said sounded like a load of bolloc—”

“Language, dear. And yes, I remember what he said. ‘A mourner with a heart who makes home for love, and a lover of adventure.’ Well, it suits your Gryffindor tendencies just fine, don’t you think? What’s not to like?”

Dad sighed. “All right, if that’s what makes you happy.”

“Glad you saw the light eventually, dear,” Mum giggled. She leaned down and blew a loud raspberry against Ajax’s little tummy.

“Hellooooo Ajax~” She cooed, bouncing the baby in her lap. “The fortune teller said you might be a handful when you grow up. Was he right? Hmmm~ ?”

“Hello, my son,” Dad leaned over, smiling gently.

The baby stared back at them with wide blue eyes.

“Hi, Ayaksh!”

Septimus grinned and poked his head out between his parents. “I’m Septimus, one of your big brothers! ‘M just six ‘ears old, but that means we’ll also be duh closest in age.”

He touched Ajax’s little cheek. “I promish to take good care of you!”

His little brother looked at him… and started to cry.

Dad chuckled at Septimus’ sad face. “Don’t worry, Septimus, crying is how babies communicate.”

“You’ll be a great big brother for sure,” Mum smiled gently, while Ajax bawled and shook his little fists.

So, after being the youngest for so long, Septimus was finally a big brother.

He would embark on the journey of filling his baby diary with funny, memorable and bestest moments with Ajax ever!

#1 - I am finali a big bruthur ! XD (Jun)

#2 - Ayaksh’s 1st acsidental magic :) (Ogust)

“Ajax, Ajax…” Mum whispered, swaying the wailing human bean back and forth. “It’s alright, baby, you’re safe…“

Yawning, Septimus checked Dad’s pocketwatch to see that it was 10:30 pm. Oh, that’s bad.

By this time, Septimus was supposed to be in dreamland already… but Ajax was having one of his crying fits again, and it just happened to be at night! His brother was keeping everyone up. Well, everyone except Quinn, because he slept like a log. Lucky him!

That left everyone else who couldn’t sleep— Mum, Dad, Claudin, Desmond, and himself— gathered in the living room, trying everything they could to get Ajax to calm down.

Of course, they could wait for Ajax to cry himself to sleep, but then everyone will end up sleeping very late, and Dad said that was bad for growing boys. During Ajax’s last tantrum that morning, Quinn suggested using the ‘Dreamless Sleep potion,’ which was apparently a potion that could make you very drowsy… but Mum said no because it might not be safe for babies.

“Look, Ajax! It’s Mr. Rolly!” Desmond yelped. He shook the stuffed toy puffskein at the baby, his usual smile looking more like a pained grimace. When the twins were mad at each other, Quinn called Desmond a mean nickname, Show-Off Monty, since he was always smiling and a ‘perfectionist.’ Though it seemed even perfect Monty cowered in the face of Ajax’s bawling.

“Ajax! Look, look!” Dad desperately stuck his tongue out and wriggled his fingers. Septimus frowned; surely that wouldn’t work. With Dad’s eyebags, it would only look scary!

As expected, Ajax wailed harder, face turning as red as a strawberry.

“I’d take changing diapers over this,” Claudin grumbled, lying like a puddle of yellow pajamas on the sofa.

There were pillow marks on his face, Septimus thought sleepily. At times he felt close to nodding off, but then Ajax would scream again and he’d have to start over.

Being a big brother was hard…

Then Mum let out a startled, “Oh, Hippogriffs!”

“Genevieve, what—“

“Merlin, what’s happening—”

Mum shushed everyone, pointing wordlessly across the living room to… Quinn’s brown guitar.

Which was floating.

And it was coming right at them!

WHOAH!

Frozen in shock and awe, everyone could only watch as it bobbed through the air, pausing in front of Mum and the wailing Ajax. It hovered there for a bit… until there came a plinking of strings.

Quinn’s guitar… was playing itself.

The strings strummed on their own, thrumming with a sweet melody Septimus didn’t recognise. It wasn’t anything like what Quinn would play, because it sounded too slow… and too sad.

“Haunting,” Claudin murmured, sitting up and putting on his glasses. His eyes were wide and sparkly, just like when he was interested in something. “It’s like a lullaby…”

His baby brother stared at the guitar with big, watery eyes. Septimus didn’t even notice when Ajax had stopped crying, ‘cus he was so wowed by his little brother’s feat of accidental magic!

Because this was Ajax’s accidental magic. There was no way it wasn’t!

Slowly, Ajax’s eyes drooped as the guitar sang and lulled him with its sad lullaby. When it finally fell silent, the baby’s eyes had long fluttered shut.

“Merlin,” Desmond whispered, gobsmacked. “That was…”

“Aweshome!” Septimus cried, suddenly feeling wide awake.

“Hush,” Mum hissed, rocking the sleeping Ajax in her arms. “Bed, everyone. Especially you, Septimus.”

“Okay!” said Septimus. He spent a good hour jotting down tonight’s events under his blanket, before falling asleep.

#3 Ayaksh says his 1st word! + tries walkking :0 (Febuary)

With the twins off in Hogwarts again, Septimus finally had the entire lawn to himself. No more taking turns, nuh-uh! On no-chore days, he could finally soar around on Dad’s old broom while Claudin could work on his wood carvings at the side.

For chore days, the two of them came up with a (mostly) foolproof plan to dodge any real work. All they needed to do was beg Mum to exchange chores for babysitting Ajax. Sure, Mum didn’t always agree— and nobody actually liked changing baby undies— but watching his little brother was still more fun than doing laundry. Sometimes, he even got to update the baby diary when something special happened.

Like when his little brother attempted doing two of his major milestones… at the same time.

He and Claudin had been watching as Ajax wobbled on one leg, chubby face pinched in determination… before collapsing back down on the mat. The baby let out a frustrated babble (at least, it sounded frustrated), before heaving himself up again.

“Ajax~ ” Mum pouted, reaching out her arms. “Let’s not tire ourselves, okay dearie? How about we try saying ‘mama’!”

“Or ‘dada’!” Dad piped in, picking up the baby. “C’mon, Ajax, say dada!”

“When will he be able to say my name?” Septimus whined.

“Not for a while, Sep,” Claudin said, amused. “You’ll have to wait a few years.”

His big brother was lying on his belly, relaxed and unbothered. His chin was resting on his palms, and his feet were up and swinging in the air. He looked so cool! Septimus immediately copied his pose.

“Is that how long it took before I could say your name?” He wondered, feeling a bit sad. He really made his coolest big brother wait for years just to say his name? What a bummer!

Claudin just gave him a thumbs up and ruffled his hair.

“Ba… ko? No.” Ajax babbled, tilting his head around. “Ma… no!” Then his leg shot up, nearly kicking Dad in the face.

The two brothers fell over, laughing as Dad yelped and passed the baby to Mum.

“What did you say, sweetie pie?” Mum cooed. She scooped Ajax to her chest and made funny faces at him. Ajax tugged a handful of her hair in response.

“Oof!”

“Ajax, no!” cried Claudin and Dad in unison. Horrified, Septimus tried prying at Ajax’s stubby fingers. Not Mum’s golden hair!

But Ajax was so stubborn! He only gripped Mum’s braid tighter and shouted, “Fish!”

A pause.

Claudin blinked. “… Did he just say fish?”

“Fish!” insisted Ajax, pouting and lifting Mum’s braid in his little fist.

“… Yes, Ajax, you’re right,” Mum said faintly. She gazed at her little baby, something soft and warm filling her eyes. “My braid’s a fishtail!”

She laughed and twirled Ajax around in joy, skirts billowing. “Fish! Your first word, my smart little boy!”

“Wait, how’d he know about the fishtail?”

“Assidental magic!” Septimus declared, puffing himself up in big brotherly pride!

Claudin giggled, putting a hand to his mouth. “Sep, that’s not how accidental magic works!”

“Must’ve just been hungry…” Dad was muttering, but Septimus didn’t care. Gleeful, he jumped up and hurried to get his baby diary. He needed to record this now!

#4 Ayaksh’s   Ajax’s 1st birtday (tomorow!) :D (June)

Septimus wanted to finish the crochet baby mittens he was making for Ajax by tonight, so he barged into Mum’s room for more yarn.

Whatever he expected to see, it was not papers with scribbles all over the floor, crayons everywhere, and Ajax locked into a staring contest with a slimy puddle— Wait.

“Oi, why’re you just standing there? Get in!” Quinn huffed, scooting around him. He glanced at Septimus’ frozen state, then at the scene before him, and cringed. “Blimey, is that a Flesh-Eating Slug?!”

Septimus shrieked, jumping back. “Ewwwwww!”

Slowly, the baby turned to blink at the green-faced Quinn. Squinted at the jittery Septimus and his shaking knees. Then he just. Threw a crayon at the slug.

Stupefied, the two brothers watched in horror as it soared through the air and hit the slug square in the face.

“NOOOO AJAX WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“Morgana’s soggy tits, it’s getting closer!” Quinn’s eyes nearly popped from its sockets. Flailing, he grabbed the spunky baby and skidded out of the room, Septimus hot on his heels.

After escaping the slug, they spent some time panting outside the shut door. “Wha was a F-flesh-Eating Slug doing at Mum’s?!” wailed Septimus.

“Maybe Dad left a piece of sandwich in there, who knows,” the bewildered Quinn muttered, lifting a freckled, gangly arm to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

Beside them, Ajax descended into hiccuping giggles, rolling about and clapping his pink little hands.

“Nice to see you enjoyed that, little fella,” Quinn groaned.

“Wait… I DIDNT GET THE YARN!”

In the end, Septimus had only managed to make one mitten before morning, but it was still worth it. Mum and Dad sang praises for his crochet work, and Claudin said he’d love a scarf from Sep in the future. Even the twins looked impressed!

Ajax also gave him an adorable toothless grin and pressed his tiny, ungloved fingers against Septimus’ cheek. That meant he liked the gift, right?

Wait, he should probably record that in the baby diary, too!

Chapter Text

“Once upon a time…”

Crooning in a sing-song tone, Genevieve stood and began make-believe night. In the magical time of childhood, she was her children’s greatest showman.

Septimus was sitting at her feet in rapt attention, and Claudin was watching from his place in a cushy armchair. Neither of the twins had budged from their desks, but Desmond set aside the Daily Prophet, and Quinn stopped fiddling with his guitar, so she knew that they were listening. All the while, Ajax had managed to toddle across the room, steadying himself with his chubby arms spread out to either side of him. Genevieve’s youngest son had then plopped himself down and gave a warbled cry of triumph, which got the family trading endeared looks.

“… There was an island with a lush, magical forest.”

Genevieve slowly stretched out her arms, mapping the vastness of the island in the mind’s eye. It always started like this, with a gesture and curl of the fingers, a hushed whisper, and the slow thrum arising from within her bones.

Soon, she could be twirling, singing, or stamping her feet; it all depended on how the story flowed. She may be a Weasley now, but Genevieve was still a Lovegood through and through, and all Lovegoods knew how to see what was not seen. For her, this meant spinning a whimsy world of dreams and magic —not with a wand, but with a child’s eyes.

“The magical forest was home to many animals, who loved its sky with a thousand stars…”

She kneeled, letting her long, billowing skirt touch the floor with a whisper. Tonight, her skirt would be the towering green mountain where the animals of the forest played. Tonight, she also wore gloves of the darkest blue with sparkling sequins that, when she would spread her palms wide, allowed her children to see the starry sky of the island’s twilight.

“Among the animals, there was a family of foxes who lived in a burrow.”

With a flourish, Genevieve donned a rusty red coat. She wiggled her forefingers from right to left, depicting the scurrying steps of foxes. “There was a red papa fox, who had a thick, bushy tail, and a white mama fox, who had soft, soundless paws.”

“Then, there came the fox kits. Their first son—“ She walked over to Desmond and ruffled his hair. “—was a cheerful little fox, who loved parties and playing fetch with other foxes.”

Next to her, Quinn snorted. He received a light flick to the forehead for it.

“Their second son was a pouty little fox, who Papa fox named after the fifth of the month. He made the sweetest music with the fiddle.” Genevieve grasped the imaginary fiddle in her embrace and swayed to an unheard tune. Up and down, her hand rose and fell, holding the fiddle’s invisible bow.

Quinn hummed approvingly. “Yeah, I’d totally rock the fiddle.”

“You don’t really rock with a fiddle, you zing it with its bow—“

“Oh, shut up, Mont!”

Ignoring the twin’s usual squabbles, Genevieve waltzed her way to Claudin and smushed his cheeks. As expected, he took the babying with a good amount of grace. “Then, there was their third son. He was a kind little fox who always walked with careful steps—“ a tiptoe forward, a tiptoe back— “lest he accidentally trample on a flower or a bowtruckle.”

Claudin giggled. “Given how bowtruckles have sharp fingers, I think that would be a good thing to do, peaceful creatures or not.”

“Cooool!” Ajax exclaimed, blue eyes wide and sparkly.

“Then, there was their fourth son named after the seventh of the month, a yippy little fox who was always full of energy!” Genevieve enveloped Septimus in a big, warm hug—right before she tickled him silly.

“Ahahaha Mum! Wai—wait! Mum lemme GOOOO !!” Septimus squealed, rolling on the floor until Ajax pointed a little finger and laughed at his big brother, much to Genevieve’s amusement. Satisfied, she took mercy on her fourth son and released the boy.

“He’s such a naughty baby…” Desmond sighed, a fond smile on his face.

“Ahahaha, you see that, Sep? Ajax the Great is laughing at you!” Quinn wheezed, slapping his desk.

“If Ajax the Great says we should laugh, then we laugh!” Claudin put a hand on his chin, giving several exaggerated nods.

“S-so meaaan!” Septimus pouted in jest. “Mum, give him tickles too!”

“And last but not the least…“ Genevieve heaved Ajax into her arms, rocking him to and fro. Oh dear, he was getting heavier; her tiny son was growing so fast. “… there was the littlest of foxes, a baby with lots of secrets and a big heart!”

“And an adventurer, too, according to the diviner!” Septimus piped up.

“And a mourner, apparently,” Claudin said thoughtfully.

“Muh,” added Ajax, reaching down to pat her arm.

“But who is he even mourning?” Desmond wondered.

“Yeah, Ajax, that guy barely explained anything. We demand answers!” Quinn bopped the baby’s nose.

Ajax wrinkled his nose and batted at his brother’s hand.

Genevieve smiled and watched on, pausing make-believe night just for a moment to treasure this scene in her heart.

Merlin knows there were many challenging moments in parenthood. Genevieve, of course, had long grown used to this feeling; she’d raised the rowdiest of boys, after all. Her youngest especially loved testing certain boundaries.

“Dad,” Ajax pattered up to his father’s leg, blue eyes big and innocent. “Do wizards sometimes spar— uhhh, duel with blades and spears?”

“Hurrghk!” Jonathan nearly spat out his coffee.

Genevieve swiftly grabbed a tissue and rubbed his back soothingly, all while shooting Ajax an exasperated look. After a while, her husband managed a simple “…No, Ajax.”

The three year old frowned, scrunching his little red brows. Normally, Genevieve would call him cute, but Ajax was being particularly headache-inducing right now. “But what happens if you get disarmed? Don’t wizards take self-defence lessons?”

“Who told you about duelling?! Quinn! Get over here—! “

“I didn’t do anything!” Came the affronted squawk from upstairs. “I even hid his baby scribbles of fighting bowtruckles from you. Bowtruckles! I did it for your sanity!”

“It’s true!” Desmond, surprisingly, came to his twin’s defence. “I saw them myself!”

Genevieve did as well. Though, she was hoping it was just a phase…

Little Ajax sighed and shook his head. For a three year old, he looked extremely inconvenienced. “Guess I’ll have to relearn my riptide…”

By the time he was six, it became apparent that Ajax had sleeping problems. At 10 or 11 at night, he’d often still be tossing and turning in bed while her other boys slept soundly. Because of this, she and her husband nearly transformed themselves into fussy, clucking hens from worry.

Jonathan did his best to collect soft pillows and comforters to fill Ajax’s bed. Meanwhile, Genevieve started giving him regular bedtime stories, with Septimus covering for her whenever she was tired. Her youngest always listened, especially with the stories involving snow fae, foxes, and dragons.

Ajax, too, was quite aware of his insomnia. Recently, he’d made it a habit to run laps around the garden fence, even doing push-ups and lifting water buckets. It seemed her little boy's solution was to tire himself out during the day.

Genevieve and Jonathan decided to let him be, though they did send Claudin after him whenever Ajax started throwing bread knives against target boards. Since he was a stubborn boy, this still happened often enough, but he always folded at Claudin’s gentle yet firm smile when caught.

Despite all the self-imposed workouts he did, there were some nights where Ajax still couldn’t sleep. If Quinn was at home, perhaps working on an essay or getting a head start on his N.E.W.T.S., Ajax would knock on his door with a ‘sorry’ and a request. No matter how much Quinn grumbled, he’d always take out his guitar to play a lullaby.

In particular, it was the lullaby that always soothed Ajax to sleep. The lullaby that sprang from that same guitar, during Ajax’s first accidental magic as a baby.

Genevieve knew, because sometimes she woke to hear their voices… and then that sweet, sad melody coming from the landing. In the months Quinn was at Hogwarts, sometimes she’d tiptoe out of the bedroom, down to the hidden corner of the staircase, and listen to a child’s soft singing.

Sometimes, the song was warbled out between hiccups and sobs.

“ Oy khodyt' son, kolo vikon.
A drimota kolo plota.
Pytayetsya son drimoty
De zh my budem nochuvaty?”

Today, he wasn’t crying. The cool relief streamed and settled into the depths of her heart. As his mother, Genevieve could only stand and wait for her son’s vigil to end.

If she poked her head out just a bit, she knew she would see Ajax laid on the sofa, hugging a pillow and curled in a ball. At night, no one would see him cry, so her son let himself be fragile glass, teetering on the abyss of grief.

“De khaton'ka teplesen'ka,
De dytynka malesen'ka…
Tudy pidem nochuvaty
I dytynku kolysaty…”

She was certain the entire family knew about this.

Genevieve never told anyone what she saw on these nights, and Quinn was just as tight-lipped about it. But Septimus sometimes stared at Flourish & Blott’s Foreign Languages section a little too long. She also knew Desmond and Claudin’s yearly visits to Marjin Alley were not for shopping, but for accosting a particular diviner with curious questions. Jonathan even asked her if the Lovegoods had any seer blood in their veins. Really, her boys weren’t exactly sneaky.

“Tam budem… spochyvaty,
I dytynku… prysypl'yaty…
Spaty, spaty… sokol'yatko…
Spaty… spaty… holubyat… ko…”

Who are you mourning?

Without a sound, Genevieve lifted a blanket over the dozing Ajax. Leaning down, she kissed his peeking forehead goodnight.

“What are you doing with Claudin’s carving knife, dear?”

Ajax scuffed a boot against the snowy soil. A sheet of white blanketed the whole of the Weasleys’ garden, from Genevieve’s favourite silver birch tree to Desmond’s thriving vegetable patch.

Her youngest was appropriately bundled up, with gloves on his hands and a blue wool cap with a fuzz ball pulled over his ears—likely one of Septimus’ gifts. For an eight year old, he pulled off her hand-me-down childhood coat nice and snug, almost like a second skin.

“I’m going to carve something from our birch tree.” Ajax said, freckled cheeks half-buried in his favourite red scarf. The carving knife lay trapped in his firm, gloved grip. “I’ll just need a low branch.”

“Alright, I’ll help chop it off for you. Do you want me to bring you a ladder?”

“Nah, I can climb it.” Ajax shuffled around in the snow. A fleeting glance, then his eyes darted away from her. “You’re not gonna ask what I’ll carve?”

Genevieve looked at her son. Then she kneeled down and patted his head. “You can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

Ajax’s eyes widened. His blue eyes glistened with a thousand words bottled up and unspoken.

Then he turned away. “The lullaby,” he said suddenly, voice rough.

Genevieve crossed the distance between them, approaching her littlest fox with soft, slow steps. When he didn’t move away, she rubbed his shoulder with a mittened hand. “Do you want me to hum it?”

“No, it’s just… the lullaby’s called ‘The Dream Passes by the Windows.’ Thought you would want to know, since everyone seems to love hiding in the staircase at midnight.” Ajax sniffled. “You guys think you’re so sneaky, but you can never fool a Harbi—ugh.”

Ajax wiped his face with his free hand, then gave her a resolute look. “Look, I’ll fess up soon, okay! I’ve been thinking… maybe I could take the floor for a make-believe night sometime?”

“Oh,” Her eyes lit up in pride and so, so much love. “Oh, I’d love that, Ajax.”

“Good, good.” Ajax sighed, before muttering to himself, “By the Tsaritsa, Ajax, acting mysterious much? Xiansheng must’ve rubbed off on me more than I thought. Guess I need to do my best Iron Tongue Tian Impression…”

Genevieve could not wait.

“A mourner?” She murmured, hugging the round bump of her belly. “Who would he mourn?”

The diviner looked at her. His normally unseeing eyes were strangely focused and clear. “The past… but never the future. Never the present.”

“Once upon a time, there was a boy born in the land of snow. Together with lots of little siblings, he was raised by a kind and loving mama, who made the best hearty soup, and bat—ah, a fisherman father, who was an ex-adventurer.”

Out of a large cotton bag, Ajax pulled out a wood-carved figure… and then another, and another. Soon, he was assembling an entire family of wooden figures in front of them, to Genevieve and the rest of the Weasleys’ awe.

Each wooden figure seemed to match the looks of a pawn in chess, with a round knobby head without a face, and a slender body. The difference was that the figures had little arms attached to them, holding various trinkets. They also had some details on their head or body, indicating hair, accessories or clothes. Their identifying details were painted in color, highlighting each one from each other.

One of the two taller figures had a fishing pole strapped to its back, while the other had a bowl of soup held between its two hands. Three shorter figures had hanging braids, round glasses, and a muffler respectively, each holding either a miniature book or a stuffed toy. Another figure of medium height held what looked like a toy sword. Clumped altogether, the wooden family all shared their dotted freckles and ginger hair. It was clear they were carved with a warm and gentle reverence.

“Woah, you made all of them yourself, Ajax?” Claudin hurriedly wiped his glasses and pressed his face closer to examine the wood carvings. “These look amazing!”

“You’re telling me that you made an entire cast of wooden characters?” Septimus exclaimed in disbelief.

“Yup! This is the mama and the father—“

Ajax pointed at the two tall dolls, then pointed at the one wielding the toy sword. “This is the boy, and these are his siblings! Some of them are quite smart and responsible—“ He wiggled Little Braids and Little Spectacles in his hands.

“—And one naughty little guy!” Ajax held up the tiniest figure and glared at it fondly. “Well okay, to be fair, this one was still a little baby during this time, so he wasn’t causing trouble yet. Anyways…”

As he moved the figurines about, Ajax told the tale of the boy who loved the warmth of home, yet dreamed of travelling to the places his father regaled him in stories. “Inspired by his father’s stories, the boy eventually grew so excited that he ventured into the woods to have a real adventure, armed with only a wooden sword.”

Ajax paused, before stating bluntly, “As expected, the boy got chased by a pack of wolves.”

“Oh Merlin,” Septimus muttered.

“How’d he escape them?” Claudin asked.

“He fell off a cliff—“

Someone gasped. Genevieve bet it was Quinn.

“— and into a sea of stars, where he was rescued by a badass sailor lady!” Ajax grinned and pulled out a new figurine with a flourish; this one had snow-white hair and a long sword.

Immediately, everyone exploded into questions.

“Oh, you almost got us there, Ajax the Great!”

“A sea of stars?!”

“Pulling a Wronski Feint on us—”

“Settle down, settle down!” After hushing everyone, Genevieve gestured for her youngest to continue.

“Yeah, so the sailor lady used to be an adventurer too. When she saw the boy flailing and defenceless in the sea of stars, she took that as a sign to make him her disciple!”

Ajax shook the two characters in the air, lightly smacking their wooden swords against each other. “Together, master and disciple navigated the sea of stars and battled its lurking sea monsters. Under the sailor lady’s tutelage, the boy learned all the proper ways to fight, hunt, and survive. By the time he bid her farewell and came back ashore, the boy even knew how to control water.”

At this, Ajax’s face grew a bit serious. He proceeded to explain the status of the elemental wielders, and how they were sought out by people of power. Besides the occasional interruptions from his audience, everyone listened with rapt attention as the boy in the story reunited with his relieved family—only for him to be called soon after to attend the Snow Fairy’s court.

“Before leaving, the boy vowed to his family that he’d visit them as much as possible. To make the separation less painful for the little ones, the boy told them that he was going to become a toymaker, and promised to bring home cool toys every time he visited.” Smiling, Ajax made the three little siblings surround the boy and dance with glee.

“Awww,” Septimus cooed, eyes sparkling. “That’s so adorable!”

Jonathan chuckled. “Like recognizes like!”

Laughing, Ajax nudged the boy away from the wooden family, placing him beside a short figure with a comically large top hat. “A Royal brought the boy to the court and made him go through loads of tests while the Snow Fairy watched.”

With careful hands, Ajax brought out the newest figure. It was the most elaborate wooden figure so far, with carved white snowflakes emerging from its back like wings, and a white veil and tiara placed on its head. A Snow Fairy indeed.

Of course, the whole family started gushing in unison.

“Oh. Oh!” Claudin breathed, scrambling to look at the figure from different angles. “So beautiful… you truly have an eye for detail!”

“It really is… oh, Ajax!”

“Magnificent! Bravo, son!”

“You and Claudin should make a diorama together!”

Ajax turned as red as a tomato. “Thanks… I’m glad I was able to capture her beauty.”

“So, what happens next?” Asked Genevieve.

“Well, eventually the Snow Fairy grew impressed enough to give the boy the status of Royal as well!”

The boy was taken away, and in his place, Ajax put a new wooden figurine. This one had more height and detail, with a red mask notched on the side of its head and a hunting bow held casually in its grip. Compared to the boy, the new figurine looked more daring and confident despite sharing the boy’s freckles and ginger hair.

Quinn squinted. “Why does his face look punchable?”

Ajax blanched. “Really?!”

“Quinn, he has no face,” Septimus muttered, bemused. “How can his face look punchable?”

“I dunno, it’s the vibe…”

“I think he looks cute!” Claudin protested. Septimus and Genevieve nodded with much enthusiasm.

“That’s…” Ajax bit his lip, expression conflicted. “Gah, whatever. Anyway…”

As the story progressed, the boy became a prince who trained in the ways of the Snow Fairy’s court. With his new Royal status came heaps of money to spend on his siblings and lots of daring escapades that got his blood pumping. Still, he waited eagerly for life to give him the grand adventure he’d always wanted

Ajax briefly shifted his narration a bit to expand a bit more on the Snow Fairy’s character. Despite her prowess of commanding icicles and snowstorms, her greatest enemies possessed far more magical power than her. To address this, the Snow Fairy wished to collect the most powerful magical conduits in the world. The Royals were often commanded to travel different lands to negotiate, steal, and do whatever they can to get these magical conduits.

“Huh,” Septimus made a funny face, halfway between confusion and disapproval.

“So the Snow Fairy’s a bit more complex than I thought.” Quinn remarked with interest. “I like this! It makes things more interesting.”

“True enough, one day, the Snow Fairy ordered the prince to go to the land of stone, a place ruled by the Dragon Emperor. That is, she sent him on a mission to steal the land’s most precious treasure, the Dragon Emperor’s magical conduit!” Ajax declared.

Genevieve shushed everyone as the room exploded into reactions once more. Ajax however, was not yet done. “What the prince didn’t know was that the Dragon Emperor actually knew all about this plan!”

“Really?”

“What’s going on?”

“He and the Snow Fairy actually made a deal.” Ajax clarified, holding up a pointer finger. “She can get his prized magical conduit if, and only if…”

Septimus bit his lip in anticipation. Quinn nibbled on his liquorice quill absentmindedly, zeroed in on the story and deeply invested.

“… She can prove to him that the land of stone did not need a monarch—rather, an elected government.” Ajax announced in hushed tones. “See, the Dragon Emperor actually wanted to live as a normal person, but he’d only do that if it’s clear that the land of stone did not need him anymore.”

Genevieve hummed, rubbing her chin. “How intriguing.”

“That’s kind of surprising for someone known as the Dragon Emperor,” Septimus chuckled.

Her youngest snorted. “See? That’s why he wants to lose his title.”

Genevieve wondered why he made no move to unveil the Dragon Emperor’s figurine, but her son soon launched into the details of the Dragon Emperor’s deal with the Snow Fairy, so she didn’t get to ask. Apparently, it involved a lot of faking death, false bodies, and political manoeuvring. Should the land of stone’s people assume their ruler was dead, they would have to band together to defend themselves should any of the emperor’s enemies take advantage and attack them.

“So the Snow Fairy intentionally gave the wrong orders to the prince, since it was technically part of the plan. He set off to the land of stone, aiming to steal its ruler’s magical conduit—when, in reality, he was actually sent there to test its people.”

“Oh this dragon fella’s a real schemer, I see,” Jonathan commented.

“Wait, even if the prince didn’t know the truth, he was okay with doing something like that?” Desmond inquired, looking a bit dismayed.

“I mean, the boy-turned-prince isn’t exactly a good guy either.” Ajax crossed his arms and flashed an unreadable smile. “He’s the type to keep children and civilians away from a battlefield, yet still go toe-to-toe with an enemy soldier for the Snow Fairy.”

Septimus and Desmond still looked a bit conflicted, but accepted the explanation.

Ajax went on to describe the prince’s long journey by boat, and how he promised his siblings lots of stories about the sights to see. Upon arrival, he was met by a land of spring and summer, with ponds full of colorful fish, a harbour full of restaurants and markets with hawking merchants. As a man from a snowy place, the land before him was fascinating and exciting.

As the prince got to know the land of stone a bit more, he also ended up making a few friends. Ajax had figurines of those people, too, and introduced them one by one.

There was a secretary of a bank with a dark eyemask over her face, who was always exasperated with the prince’s antics. Another figure sported twin buns for hair, and had a little teddy bear beside her; this character was a cheerful chef who cooked at the prince’s favourite restaurant and always begged him for taste-testing dishes. There was also a figure accompanied by a floating angel; this grumpy but kind traveler was the prince’s sparring buddy and a trusted person he could lean on. And then there was…

With a gentle hand, Ajax took out a new wooden figure and placed it close to the prince. Though much simpler than the Snow Fairy, this one seemed to be carved with a particular attention to its little details. The figure appeared to be wearing a black and gold suit, complete with a tie carved into its chest. Its dark hair was styled in a low ponytail, and there were two miniature chopsticks held in its hand.

Claudin jumped from his seat, eyes blazing. “That’s it! We’re going to make a diorama together after this!”

Ajax coughed, embarrassed. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind…”

“He looks like an interesting guy,” Jonathan murmured, scratching his chin.

For a moment, Ajax stared at the figure, face flashing with many fleeting emotions. Then, without acknowledging the pause, he continued the story. “There was also a consultant the prince had hired to introduce him to the land of stone’s culture. He was a calm and collected gentleman who loved talking about obscure history, and was also an avid foodie and antiques collector.”

Slowly, Ajax moved the price and the consultant in tandem across the floor, like they were performing a little waltz. “Though the prince initially hired him for information gathering, they got along so well that their meetings eventually became no mere business. The prince started dining with the consultant at restaurants, drinking with him at night, accompanying him to shop at merchant’s market, attending operas with him—“

Ajax enumerated several more things the two ‘business partners’ did— and there were a lot of things. By the end of it, Septimus’ eyebrow had travelled quite high up his forehead.

“Um,” said Claudin eloquently.

“At some point in one of those outings, the prince started falling in love with the consultant.” Ajax whispered.

“Oh. Oh shit.”

“Language, son… wait, this is his first crush, right?”

“Shot himself in the foot there, didn’t he?”

“So, you’re telling me the prince went about getting attached to people, even started fancying a bloke, all while knowing he was gonna steal from their ruler?” Quinn shook his head. “He’s kind of a mess, isn’t he?”

Ajax grimaced and looked away.

“Did the prince still have the resolve to continue with his mission?” Claudin wondered. “I’m sure his feelings were at least a bit conflicted at this point…”

“I predict he pushes through with it,” Jonathan stated gravely. “He seems like the type who sticks to his commitments, even if his heart wasn’t fully in it.”

“You’re correct,” Ajax admitted. “The prince definitely felt guilty about it, but he promised his monarch that he wouldn’t fail. So, when the Dragon Emperor’s death was announced across the land, he seized the palace to look for the magical conduit, giving an opening for one of the emperor’s political opponents to cause some chaos.”

Quinn bit into the empty air and blinked, not realising he’d already finished his licorice quill. Desmond handed him a new one without looking away from the woodcarving drama.

“Hold on. What happened to the land of stone’s people?” Septimus asked.

“Thankfully, the people managed to work together to stop the attempted takeover,” Ajax beamed. “Some of the prince’s friends actually had a big hand in it.”

“Whew! That's good to hear.”

“So the people passed the Dragon Emperor’s test, then. That means the magical conduit is going to end up in the Snow Fairy’s hands anyway, right?”

“Yup. Not that the prince knew that, of course. While he was relieved about everything, he was trying to think of his next move… when a heartbreaking bombshell was dropped on him.” Ajax paused, face smoothening into grave seriousness. Slowly, he reached for the figure of the Consultant. “He found out that the consultant was—“

“No,” Claudin whispered, disbelieving. “Don’t tell me…”

“Did his lover boy die in the political attack?!” Quinn cried.

Ajax froze. Everyone decided to take that as a yes, and the room promptly descended into cacophony.

“Noooooooooo!”

“How could you do this?!”

“WE DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING!”

Stiffly, Ajax looked down, shoulders shaking. He burst into laughter, much to everyone's horror.

“So mean, Ajax the Great!”

“Oh, so me getting invested looks funny to you, eh?!”

“A tragedy, I’m telling you—“

“The prince may be kind of a jerk, but the consultant didn’t deserve that—“

“The-the consultant isn’t d-dead, guys!” Ajax hiccuped with a tinge of hysteria. With trembling fingers, he pressed a small, raised circle in the consultant’s back. Suddenly, gold antlers and a tail popped out of the doll’s head and body like magic.

Everyone stared, trying to understand what that meant.

“Ahem,” Ajax coughed. “The prince found out that the consultant was actually… the Dragon Emperor in disguise!”

“Oh,” the boys sighed.

Genevieve at least had the decency to comment more on the reveal. “So that’s why you didn’t show the Dragon Emperor’s doll earlier!”

“Yeah… thanks for noticing, Mum,” Ajax said, looking a bit bummed by the reaction.

He pouted at the rest of them, arms on his hips. “Hey, what’s with that ‘oh’?! The prince was heartbroken and furious! He thought he was being played with all along!”

Septimus scratched his head. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“… It’s still better than what we were imagining,” Claudin finished weakly.

“Wait,” Quinn shut his eyes, and held both his hands up. “Is he still in love with the consultant-slash-Dragon Emperor? Even after all of that?”

“Well, yeah. That’s why he felt hurt!”

“And does loverboy like him back?” Quinn pressed.

“Yeah, he does. After the prince storms off, heartbroken, the Dragon Emperor shows up at his door some days later to plead for forgiveness for the deception.”

Ajax shot a warm look at the wooden Dragon Emperor. “He wanted the prince to know that the consultant he befriended was not a lie, but pretty much what the emperor wanted to be after his retirement. Just an ordinary citizen who could mingle with his citizens, appreciate life, and… fall in love.”

His voice dropped into a soft, tender whisper. “In truth, his most precious treasure was no magical conduit, but his heart which would beat for the prince, and the prince alone.”

“Okaayyy Mr. Dragon, we get it,” Quinn muttered.

“This is what you should be saying to me when we have rows, Jonathan,” Genevieve snickered. Her husband sighed, exasperated and affectionate.

Claudin blushed and gave a thumbs up. “He’s forgiven.”

Ajax just giggled, putting a hand to his mouth.

Slowly, they reached the beginning of the story’s end. The dragon emperor willingly handed over his conduit to the Snow Fairy, fulfilling his dream of becoming an ordinary consultant. Meanwhile, the prince and the consultant got to know each other again, healing the hurt created by their respective roles over time. Eventually, when they were smitten with each other once more and less burdened by their mutual betrayals, they went out to restaurants and operas again— this time as an official couple. They even visit the prince’s family together and get married, complete with the parents’ blessing and the ecstatic approval of the prince’s siblings. It is a grand wedding, attended even by the former Emperor’s dearest advisors and friends and the Snow Fairy herself.

To signify their union, Ajax links the prince and the consultant through a gap in their free hands. Notably, they are the only dolls in the cast whose hands can be linked together.

“The prince and the consultant stay together for the rest of their lives, watching the prince’s siblings grow up and going on many great adventures together. On the prince’s death bed, he vowed that if there was ever a next life, he would do his best to find his beloved again.” Ajax murmured, smiling somewhat sadly at everyone. “Yeah… I guess that’s it?”

The entire family cheered and gave him a standing ovation.

“Merlin, that was one heck of a story!“

“I’m glad everything turned out well, despite… everything.”

“You’re a great storyteller, Ajax,” Septimus grinned, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Have you ever thought of writing this down?”

“I quite agree, dearie,” Genevieve smiled tremulously, tears catching in her eyelashes. Her youngest son had gone through so much and his story deserved to be told. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you could preserve your story and pass it on?”

Ajax gazed at her, a small and trembling emotion filling his eyes. “I…”

“Yeah, I’d be your biggest supporter! We could promote the heck out of it,” Quinn smirked, clapping him on the back. Beside them, Claudin and Jonathan nodded vigorously and Desmond gave a thumbs up.

“Yeah…” A tiny grin was forming on his lips, like a once injured bird finally spreading its wings. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Descriptiones Variorum Individuorum Britanniae Magicae

Foreword

Firstly, a foreword would not have been necessary because this is no academic treatise, merely a bit of tomfoolery, but I digress. Nonetheless, perhaps a thesis statement is in order: True Slytherins  are those who do not show their arses like dearest cousin Walburga.

In the first place, a Hogwarts student who has not even taken her O.W.L.s yet while challenging me to an information game is just utter foolishness. Has she forgotten that I am a bonafide adult with a far-reaching information network? Unlike the rest of the dunderheads in the family, I enjoy having tea with anybody intriguing, whether intellectually or in ability, regardless of whether they are of muggle background, not included in the Sacred 28 or a part of the oldest of pureblood families. Considering the fact that I am quite literally engaged to Septimus Weasley— someone whose three older brothers pass down the talk around their workplaces— one would think this would be an obvious thing! (My Septimus is a good boy and tells me everything, thus I am aware of what rumours are going about constantly.)

That is not even counting the acquaintances and associates I have (both willing and begrudging) from the academe. I go away for 3 years for my Alchemy masters in Greece, and suddenly Walburga has the memory of a goldfish and starts spewing all this bullshit.

Fine then, let us see that simpering dunderhead flounder like a flobberworm.

Perhaps Alchemy Master Cedrella Black can teach this flobberworm a new trick.

Walburga Black 

• Slytherin House; her only ambition seems to be marrying her younger cousin (Pers. acct)
• Accidentally sat on a doxie as a child during a round of hide and seek where she hid in the wrong cupboard; had to be brought to St. Mungos for Doxie poisoning. Must be why she’s still toxic (Mum acct)
• Spent her Hogwarts education trying to obtain a mastery in pureblood partygirl fashion…

Favourite anecdote: A drunk Damien Avery once mistook the back of her head as his fiancée’s and flirted with her, and then immediately blanched when she turned around. She could not even get offended because then it would look like she was disloyal to her engagement… (Abraxas M. acct.)

Additional commentary: No more words need to be added.

Septimus Weasley

• Gryffindor House; he was a chaser for their Quidditch team (Pers. acct)
• Recently graduated Hogwarts and is studying to become a translator and foreign language buff

• • With emphasis in Slavic and East Asian Languages (Pers. acct)

• Has an interest in ancient runes and magical creatures…

Favourite anecdote: We first met because I was walking around past curfew (late night experiments, the usual) and he ran up the moving staircase and nearly collided with me. Having mistaken me for a prefect, he apologised earnestly and surrendered himself to be escorted back to his common room. I played along, of course, and brought him all the way to the Fat Lady’s portrait like a real prefect; I was quite the good actor, if I do say so myself. He was a 5th year during that time, while I was a 6th year… (Pers. acct)

Additional commentary: My adorable golden retriever boy… he’s the only one whom I do not mind being taller than me.

Claudin Weasley  

• Hufflepuff House; a well-liked Head Boy (and heartthrob) during his time, with lots of ladies and gentlemen taken with him (Pers. acct)
• Currently studying for a Mastery in Charms (Scotland) and goes on frequent visits to the Goblin Nation to observe and mentor a child named Filius Flitwick of whom he believes shows great aptitude in Charms…

• • (thank you, dear Septimus, for this intriguing information)

• A skilled wood carver who occasionally puts up booth at Marjin Alley; this means I could probably commission him for some rough sketches of my creations…

Favourite anecdote: During a food fight between some numbskull Slytherins and Gryffindors, an idiot threw meatballs at him for trying to stop the whole mess. He managed to block all the flying meatballs using plates, which was quite impressive according to eye-witness testimonies. This had apparently stunned both parties enough that he managed to restrain all of them and consequently dock a ton of house points from both houses.

• I’ve been told this is because he’s skilled in catching flying bread knives. I do need to hear the story behind that… (Quinn W. acct)

Additional commentary: He’s polite, intelligent, and has shown interest in my field, which means he’s probably going to be my favourite brother-in-law.

Lily Ollivander

• Head Girl during her time in Hufflepuff House (Albus D. acct [interview])
• obtained a Runes and Charms Mastery in both Magical Britain and China at the age of 21 (Sweet Merlin, she’s my idol for a reason…) (Daily Prophet news report)
• Known pacifist and advocate for muggle and squib rights; publicly denounced Grindelwald…

.

.

.

Tom Riddle-Yeh  

• Currently in Ravenclaw House as a 3rd year (as of 1940) (Orion B. acct)
• A gutsy muggleborn who apparently sent a petition letter to Dippet asking for him and his friend, fellow muggleborn Ravenclaw Wren Li, and their families to seek refuge in Hogwarts due to the Muggle London Blitz

• Dippet rejected the petition. Riddle-Yeh apparently took this as a sign to organise a discrete school-wide gathering, where Wren Li and his other friend Siobhan Diggory gave speeches that called for students with wizarding residences to open their houses and shelter their muggleborn friends and families. Despite some indifferent reactions, they had managed to move a good portion of the student body and amassed a number of student and family volunteers. This eventually became The Hogwarts Friendship Against War Organisation (HFAWO) (MacMillan family acct.)

Favourite anecdote (wip): In receiving a prank confession, the third year took it at face value and sent a serious rejection letter stating that he was “saving himself for marriage to the love of his life.” The hilarious response spread and became an inside joke within Hogwarts student culture (S. McKinnon acct.)

• This one’s dubious as it is bonkers if a fetus like Riddle-Yeh is already thinking about those things. What, is he a rebellious pureblood heiress trying to escape an early engagement? As a 3rd year? Ridiculous.

Additional commentary: Probably need to keep an eye on this kid and his friends. Diggory, Li, and Riddle-Yeh seem intelligent enough and are supported by their Hogwarts professors; their organisation also seems to be transitioning beyond its within-school-borders-only status. I shall definitely be involved in this, since the Weasleys already donated and volunteered their lawn and tents. Perhaps I can help some more by arranging tea with the Diggory matriarch and currying some favor…

“Miss Cedrella?”

Cedrelle looked up to see her fiancé’s youngest brother, Ajax, calling to her from the kitchen. At a distance, he looked like a younger Septimus with their similar lean builds and carrot coloured hair. On closer inspection, however, Ajax had more freckles across his cheeks and still kept the bangs on his forehead, unlike her lover. Nonetheless, both of them had hands often stained in ink and loved carrying a personal notebook everywhere. It was quite amusing, actually.

“Mum wants to tell you the food is ready. Also, Septimus just arrived.”

Cedrelle smiled. “Splendid. Could you tell him to come here?”

“Sure!” Ajax skipped away, writing something down in his notebook. It was likely a sentence for his story, Septimus did say Ajax was going to be a writer.

“Ceddie!”

A giddy Septimus bounded into the living room to shower her outstretched hand in kisses. His height and handsomeness matched so well with his eagerness to please. Cedrelle could practically see his imaginary dog tail wagging behind him. “You came!”

“You’ve been working hard lately, of course I had to visit,” She smirked, laying his head down into her lap. He grinned up at her, preening and cheeks rosy.

“Um, Mum said the both of you can join us for lunch now,” Came Ajax’s stuttering voice from the doorway.

Mortified, Septimus shot up from the couch. “R-right, coming!”

Cedrelle giggled. Oh, her future husband was so adorable. Although, regarding Ajax, she needed a headstart on his entry…

Tying back her waves of hair, she laced her lover’s hand into hers. “Septimus, why don’t you tell me stories about Ajax's first year? Is it true that he attempted to pull the Sword of Gryffindor out of the hat right after he got sorted?”

Septimus sighed, face morphing into one of deep exasperation. “Oh yes, that is unfortunately true. Morgana knows how that was the start of his infamous reputation in Hogwarts…”

Chapter Text

p. 5x Descriptiones Variorum Individuorum Britanniae Magicae

Wren Evelyn Li

• Currently in Ravenclaw House as a 3rd yr; a top student in Potions and a co-founder of HFAWO (Orion B. acct)
• The Lis are regulars at Marjin Alley and seem to be on good terms with its ward keepers, the Patils. Nonetheless, they seem to be living in the muggle world still

• • Likely muggle Chinatown (Pers. acct)

• Occasionally moonlights as a participant in muggle mathletics competitions… (K. Patil acct)

Favourite anecdote (wip): to be added

Additional commentary: She’s developed some beef with a few family heirs on Riddle-Yeh’s behalf, but I’ve heard about the incident in question and it's nothing particularly interesting. Given his status as a muggleborn and an oddball, it was inevitable for Riddle-Yeh to be targeted no matter which house he went to, Ravenclaw’s relatively neutral stance notwithstanding... (Orion B.)

I. “Tom Riddle” destroys an edgelord via his degree in Trivia Yappology

As an incoming first year, Wren Li could confidently say that her journey to Hogwarts was going disastrously so far.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t all bad, but that was still cutting it close.

It all started when Die-die and Mama had to embarrass her in front of Auntie Yeh by trying to matchmake Wren. With her son. To her face!

If only Wren could Avada herself right now. How could she even face Auntie Yeh after this? How could she ever go to Marjin Alley and buy Auntie Yeh’s pretty, silk dress robes without looking at her and remembering this moment?!

“It’s so great that A-Li is of high potential!” Mama had gushed before zeroing in on Wren and letting out a horrible giggle. “Aiyah, you should share a compartment with him on the Hogwarts express!”

Die-die— because he was in on this too, the traitor— had winked at Wren and given her a thumbs up. “A-Li is such a charming, talented, and handsome boy, isn’t he? You two can be very good friends!”

“Oh yes, A-Li is truly gifted!” Thankfully, Auntie Yeh had quickly forgotten her bemusement in favour of boasting about her son. “You know, Garrick Ollivander said he may have the knack for other conduits beyond a wand…”

And see, Wren had nothing against A-Li. He was much nicer compared to most of the obnoxious boys she knew who didn’t avoid girls like the plague. He was also smart and confident enough to talk with the adults, which meant everyone and their mamas in Chinatown loved him— well, except for some of her peers who were intimidated by him, she supposed. Anyway, these were all great qualities for someone she could be friends with.

Sadly, Wren didn’t have a lot of those, and she’d rather have one friend in Hogwarts than be all alone in a new school. So yes, she had been planning to ask him if they could share a compartment, hoping that they could be friends instead.

But now, her parents made it all weird by focusing on the fact that he won the genetic lottery… surely they could matchmake someone else!!

Thankfully, A-Li seemed content to ignore it and they’d been getting along well so far.

“I’m sure your parents meant no harm, Miss Wren. Even your elders wish to delight themselves with a little mischief from time to time,” he said in that overly polite way of his. “Of course, I am also certain you are not the love of my life—“

“Aiyaaah! I get it…”

Honestly, A-Li would be a great comedian with how he delivered funny lines like that in such a serious manner.

She huffed at the thought and smoothened her bangs and pigtails into a tidier shape. They were hardly late by any means, but she wanted to look presentable on her first day of seeing the famed castle. After a satisfied glance at her hand mirror, she turned back to him and crossed her arms. “And just call me Wren, unless you want me to stop calling you A-Li.”

The taller boy smiled to himself. “I’d say I like the sound of A-Li better than Tom.”

“Me too!”

“A-Li!” Auntie Nan called behind them, a soft smile on her face. She had offered to single-handedly lift their trunks onto the train because she was just so cool like that. “I’ve finished loading your trunks! Come give your Youngen-Jie and Maelin-Jie one last goodbye hug, okay?”

With a fond smile, A-Li obediently did as he was told.

“Bye bye, baobao!” Her parents loudly cooed in unison, much to Wren’s embarrassment. Why couldn’t they just be like A-Li’s parents, giving big hugs like Auntie Yeh and affectionate head ruffles like Auntie Nan— actually, never mind about the last one; A-Li’s hair looked like a mess now. Though, as they waved goodbye as the express set off, Wren couldn’t help but feel that she’d miss her parents, even as silly as they were.

Shooing away such thoughts, she lent A-Li her hand mirror so he could comb his hair back into shape and the two continued where they left off.

“—And if you keep calling people mister this and miss that, you’re going to be bullied for talking like an old man. Plus, if we both end up in Ravenclaw, we’re going to be housemates, right? Then you don’t need to be so formal around me, either.”

Wren punctuated this with a poke to his forehead; never mind how she had to tiptoe to accomplish it. She wanted to test his boundaries and see how much he could take from a friend.

A-Li merely tilted his head at her, cool as a cucumber as ever. “I suppose, although there may be a chance I might go to Slytherin.”

“Try not to, please. You’ll definitely be bullied there…”

Wren was proven right only minutes later, when some boy refused to share a carriage with them just from hearing their names. This was the continuation of the disaster, it seemed.

“Two mudbloods, and one being a chinkface at that? I’m sure you can dirty some other carriage…”

Technically, the term they used was wrong considering that Wren was a half-blood; Die-die’s ancestors were actually pretty famous cultivators of old, which would have been the equivalent of a pure-blood lineage… not that this stuck-up berk would care.

“I see that you are an avid tea drinker,” A-Li said out of the blue.

What in Wukong?? Wren wrenched her head around to shoot A-Li a Look, but no, he was truly gazing intently at the fancy-shmancy tea cup and saucer balanced on the guy’s lap. What was he doing?! They just needed to get out of here and find an empty compartment!

“What’s it to you, mudblood?”

“Why, the very drink you are fond of actually originated from China where it is known as chá.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“In 1606, chá was first brought to Europe by the Dutch, who first imported it from China via their trading post in Java. Soon, it became a fashionable drink in most of Europe, but not in the British Isles—“

Despite her desperate looks and subtle arm pulling, there seemed to be no stopping A-Li at all from this history-lesson-scolding. By the Immortals, he was even holding out a hand to gesture in the air!  

“— until King Charles II married Catherine of Braganza, a Portuguese princess who was a known tea connoisseur. Once she made tea drinking fashionable at court, the rest was history.”

A-Li nodded matter-of-factly at his stunned audience. “Therefore, though tea is now considered quite English, it was ultimately a drink first brought to Britain during the colonial era, carefully cultivated and just as beloved by the ancestors of the very people you are mocking.”

“If you, a young and self-proclaimed bigot, can appreciate the magnificence of tea, it stands to say that you can be more open minded about the people who originally created it. Especially—“ A-Li smirked and looked straight into dunce’s eyes, “—as a descendant of the people who had to convert an entire generation of Chinese citizens into drug addicts just to win a war. Please, save some face, won’t you?”

“…”

“…”

Suffice to say, they were kicked out.

On the bright side, when they finally got to Hogwarts, it looked as magnificent as people said it was. The sight of the ancient stone castle under the full moon and its blue, warped reflection in the lake— it was picturesque. Wren wished she had brought Mama’s camera just so she could capture this moment and keep it forever.

For once, A-Li seemed just like all the other amazed first years, letting out a breath of awe and casting around appreciative glances once they were inside the castle walls. Once they were led to the great hall, they both got struck dumb by the vaulted ceiling of floating candles and the starry sky above them.

“A false sky,” A-Li muttered, face contorting into a strange expression. “How funny…”

“Funny? It’s amazing!” Wren whispered with wide eyes.

The house tables in red, green, yellow, and blue, the sea of students before them, the Sorting Hat unsealing its mouth to belt into song… It was like one big welcoming festival!

Yes, the disastrous journey aside, Wren Li was definitely enjoying herself.

In the midst of the hushed anticipation crowding Hogwart’s Great Hall, Albus paused slightly before shouting “Riddle-Yeh, Tom!”

He watched as a familiar dark-haired child separated from the gaggle of first years, slightly taller than the rest and sporting an ever present low ponytail. It truly was Young Tom who stepped up to meet him, nodding in polite acknowledgement before he slipped under the Sorting Hat. Had he gotten adopted already? 

If so, Albus was happy for him! Hopefully, his new family had taken a liking to his magic, eccentric smarts, and strong convictions…

“Ravenclaw!” The Hat proclaimed after a long moment.

Ah, not surprising in the least. A part of him was hoping the boy would be one of his Lions, if only so he could mentor him personally, but Ravenclaw would suit him quite alright as well. He supposed he could give him extra attention during his Transfiguration class.

Smiling, Albus clapped vigorously as the boy coughed in mild, flattered embarrassment in the face of the Raven’s cheers.

Welcome to Hogwarts, my boy.

p. 3x Descriptiones Variorum Individuorum Britanniae Magicae

Abraxas Malfoy

• Currently in Slytherin House as a 4th yr; an all rounder top student (Orion B. acct)
• Member of the Slug club, currently in the running for winner at this year’s Slytherin house games… (Orion B. acct)

Favourite anecdote: Infamously black-listed Aristotle Lestrange from all Malfoy parties after he called Abraxas’ hair oil ‘lube’ out loud in the Slytherin common room.

• That was one glorious day in the Slytherin house game season… Here's to hoping something that chaotic happens again…
•  Since some upper-years still tease Abraxas about this incident, he’s not planning to lift the ban anytime soon. Condolences to Lestrange (Pers acct.)

Additional commentary: He’s a diva anyone can handle just fine… as long as you don’t insult his Veela ancestry, that is.

Lovetta Sheehy

• Currently in Slytherin House as a 3rd yr (K. Almonte acct); Cousin of Abraxas Malfoy on his mother’s side (Abraxas M. acct)
• Currently the fiancée of Geoffrey Madison

• • Oh dear. Hopefully she survives that political engagement… (Orion B.)

Favourite anecdote (wip): Supposedly pronounced Riddle-Yeh as her rival, except according to most sources, she’s quite passive, so such a move would be unlike her. Should verify with closer sources… (L. Avery acct)

Additional commentary: She has a pronounced stutter which makes her somewhat of a pariah among the Slytherins, even though she’s apparently quite pretty. This has made Abraxas quite protective of her (Orion B. acct)

Dean Zabini*

• Currently in Slytherin House as a 3rd yr; a top student in Ancient Runes
• His family is from Sicily, Italy, but recently established themselves in Magical Britain by purchasing an old manor.
• Lives by the Zabini code of neutrality…

* Zabini had so graciously approached me directly to give all the above information, which means he’s a) a fellow networker, b) aware of my network, and c) a person to keep an eye on. The accounts below may be possibly embellished and are currently being verified by trusted sources.

Favourite anecdote (wip): I have not heard about anything of note about him, which is already a feat in itself. Gosh, digging around about a fellow networker is both exhilarating and frustrating…

II. So, who’s replacing the Knights of Walpurgis again?

“So, let me get this straight,” Abraxas drawled, arms crossed and with a tick to his jaw. Usually, his blonde hair was groomed into a classy braid down his back, but now it hung all loose and agitated around his shoulders. He’d also kicked Orion Black out of the biggest and cushiest chair in the Slytherin common room, which confirmed to Dean that he was, indeed, pissed.

“Madison invoked Article no. 8 again… because he was insulted. By a first year nobody from Ravenclaw. Zabini, am I hearing this right?”

“Unfortunately,” Dean muttered in equal irritation. The confirmation had Abraxas pinching his nose.

“Wait wait wait!” Kay Almonte held up two placating hands with much chagrin. “I know you’re all tired of babying little old me… but I haven’t gotten to finishing that dusty thing. What’s the fuss all about?”

Since both Lovetta and Abraxas looked too miserable to explain, Dean took on the duty of filling her in; Kay was still catching up to the ways of conduct here, after all. Dean faced a similar problem when he entered the Magical Britain social scene, constantly mixing up pureblood English customs with his native Italian ones. It was probably worse for Kay, since Magical Latin America’s customs were drastically different from Magical Britain’s.

“Article 8 of the Moste Noble Code of Courtship states that a pureblood heir’s fiancée/wife is obligated to defend her future husband’s honor. In the event of extreme acts of humiliation—“ Dean made sure to emphasise those words quite plainly, “—on the heir’s prerogative, he may request his fiancée/wife to make an open declaration against the offender to make up for his loss of honor.”

Lovetta shrunk further and further as Dean laid out her sentence.

“Huh,” Kay squinted at her cowering friend. “Does not making Lovetta pronounce a declaration of war against someone in our batch— in other words, a first year— make everyone involved look pathetic?”

“Exactly!” Abraxas threw his hands up. “Does he not see what this looks like to Ravenclaw House and the other Houses? Lovetta’s had to give this declaration three times already. Three times! All of them inconsequential things that shouldn’t have hurt his pride as a pureblood heir. He’s isolating her from prized connections!”

“And it won’t just be Lovetta losing face for declaring social war on a snarky first year, no, he’s making the whole Slytherin lose face! Does he think this behaviour will raise his status in the House games?! Sweet Salazar, Madison’s a stupid hag!”

“Abraxas, please, that’s enough,” Dean sighed. By the end of the rant, Lovetta looked close to tears.

Kay scratched her head, looking taken aback by the outburst. “Usually you’re more… unbithered in the face of social adversaries…”

“My patience has been wearing thin as of late…” Abraxas snarled, gripping the arm chair with force.

“I-it’s because my… fiancé c-called Abraxas something… something… d-distasteful at the l-last party with the B-blacks,” Lovetta wrung her hands and grimaced.

“What was it?”

“A half-Veela bitch,” Dean uttered, pronouncing the insult with as great care as possible.

Abraxas laughed without humor. “It’s my grandmother who’s half-Veela, not me. I assure you, if I was half-Veela, I would have turned my allure on that dolt so he could pants himself in the middle of the Great Hall.”

“Back to the topic at hand,” Dean clapped his dark hands together, a pained smile on his face. At times like these, his friend group were quite the colorful bunch. “Lovetta still needs our help.”

“Clearly, you should break off your engagement,” Kay stated the obvious.

Dean huffed. “Ideally, yes, but Madison needs to be appropriately disgraced for that to happen. Abraxas and I are still discussing… options.”

“I-I just-just have to do it a…again…” Lovetta gave them a smile full of self-deprecation. Tears were threatening to fall and ruin the mascara Kay and Abraxas put on her. By now, she’d drooped so much that they could see the top of her dark haired head. She was such a lovely person inside out, speech impediment or no, and Madison was treating her like shit. Merlin, he did not deserve her.

“I-it’s not like I.. I have a choice. A-anyway, everyone knows… knows what a p-poor Slytherin I am alrea—”

“As your cousin, I forbid you from putting yourself down.” Abraxas stated, voice thunderous and eyes flashing with ferocity.

“Yeah, that’s what Madison wants!” Kay wrapped a hand around Lovetta’s trembling form. “This isn’t your social death, we will make sure of it. Just try not to stutter too much, alright?”

If he didn’t love his dumb little friends so much, Dean would have avoided them purely out of Lovetta and Kay’s lacklustre reputations. If only the Zabini name was sleek enough to get away unscathed with anything— case in point, Abraxas, who could act like a mercurial mistress and somehow still have people falling all over him. Either way, Dean just knows this will end in disaster.

To top it off, Orion Black was conveniently in the periphery, eavesdropping on their conversation. He would tell Cedrella Black to mind her damn business, but he would be called a hypocrite in that regard. Maybe he could convince Mama to take him back to Sicily for winter break…

p. 4x Descriptiones Variorum Individuorum Britanniae Magicae

Siobhan Diggory

• Currently in Hufflepuff House as a 3rd yr; a substitute chaser for their Quidditch team and a top student in Transfiguration and Charms (Orion B. acct)
• Co-founder and student-president of HFAWO (Orion B. acct)

Favourite anecdote: Infamously got caught after curfew playing a piano in an empty classroom (which she smuggled into Hogwarts using her transfigured and warded school trunk.

• Fair enough, I suppose I also smuggled in my alchemy set; though I’m proud to say I was never caught (S. McKinnon acct)

Additional commentary: I’ve heard she was a hatstall… makes sense since she seems quite the ambitious and charismatic leader; a shame she didn’t wind up in Slytherin. I rarely encounter her in social gatherings though… if Diggory is trying to build herself the reputation of an enigmatic and empathetic person of interest, she’s succeeding.

III. *shocked Pikachu face* Not the favouritism from Dumbledore?!

When Siobhan showed up extra early to her first Transfiguration class, she didn’t expect to see such a commotion.

“U-under the Moste N-noble code of C-courtship, y-you… have insulted my fiancé, Geoffrey M-madison!” The Slytherin girl cried, raising a trembling finger to a boy’s chest. Two other green-tied students watched on, silently flanking her. “I-I, Lovetta Sheehy… sh-shall not forget this!”

The Ravenclaw boy in question regarded her calmly. He had this proper and serious air about him, and the long ponytail gave him a dash of coolness.  “I remain firm on the stance that my words were a respectable defence of my friend’s dignity. Nonetheless, I accept your declaration.”

Wow… he sounds like someone straight out of a novel!

It seemed the group of Slytherins didn’t know how to respond to that either. After a round of curious stares, they silently filed out of the classroom, leaving her and the Ravenclaw boy, who silently took a seat near the front. Oh no, was he going to be her classmate? That… hmm.

Someone that eloquent— and from the smart people house, at that— was usually a killer reciter, the type who would explain something so well that other classmates would get too intimidated to say anything. As a fellow studious person, Siobhan wanted to contribute to class discussions too, so hopefully Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t let her classmate hog the discussion…

Siobhan sighed and shook off such thoughts. Wow, she was already making assumptions about someone she hadn’t even talked to yet! That wasn’t nice. Maybe she should actually speak with this intimidating guy first.

While she mustered up the courage, however, a short girl with a pretty hairdo— were those twin half-up, half-down buns!— plopped down beside the boy and started chatting with him. Feeling awkward, Siobhan shuffled past them to take a seat in the middle row. Merlin, cool people were so hard to approach.

Slowly, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws trickled into the room one by one, filling the rows and talking to their seatmates. By the time Professor Dumbledore came to begin the lesson, the classroom was a hubbub of chattering children with blue and yellow ties. Not that anyone was talking to Siobhan— she hated to admit it, but when it came to making friends, she was a wee bit shy…

After Dumbledore shushed the class with lighthearted cheer in his voice, the rollcall started and Siobhan learned that the two ravens were Tom Riddle-Yeh and Wren Li. Before she could start overthinking again, Professor Dumbledore launched into a lecture about the feats of Transfiguration— like spinning thimbles into teacups and transforming into animals. Animals! All the exciting things he described had Siobhan at the edge of her seat. This was clearly the coolest class in Hogwarts!

Eager and curious, she raised her hand to fire off some questions. Professor Dumbledore was kind enough to entertain her, despite chuckling in the face of her disappointment that no, he would not be teaching them to become Animagi. Eventually, other students began raising their hands too, and the professor awarded Siobhan five points for ‘breaking the ice.’ She may not know exactly what that meant, but she was too preoccupied with the joy of earning her first points for Hufflepuff.

“It is nice to see all of you quite interested in Transfiguration,” The Professor smiled and stroked his red beard. “If anybody else has more questions… Ah! Yes, Mr. Riddle-Yeh?”

“Mr. Dumbledore,” The dark haired boy began, tone even and nonchalant. Nonetheless, his eyes seemed to burn with curiosity. “I have read that it is common for magical shops to sell bags, suitcases, and other such things that defy spatial dimensions and allow one to place large objects or furniture inside them.”

“In the case of tents, or even entrances to magical hubs such as Diagon or Marjin Alley, whole expanses of land and property can be accessed in a similar manner. If I may ask, do these feats of magic fall under Transfiguration? If so, who invented it?”

Professor Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “What a great question, Mr. Riddle-Yeh! Ten points to Ravenclaw for such thought and care. While it is true that Transfiguration plays a part in those, that is primarily the effect of the Extension charm on objects, and warding runes for places…”

Siobhan gulped. Scary… Riddle-Yeh was scary smart, but cool— and she bet Wren Li would be just as smart. Even if the Sorting Hat said she could be in Ravenclaw, Siobhan would probably look like a fraud next to them… unless, maybe, she could approach them to form a study group? Yeah, that could be it…

Once class finished, she grabbed the chance to approach the two ravens on their way out. With as much nonchalance as she could, Siobhan stepped forward and shot them a hesitant smile. “… Hi!”

The two ravens paused and blinked at her. Fighting the urge to look away and duck, Siobhan rubbed her arm to steady herself.

“Your question… it was really cool, Riddle-Yeh. I never thought too hard about my magic trunks, so uh… ”

Siobhan paled. Merlin, she had no idea how to segway into the study group proposal!

Thankfully, Riddle-Yeh intervened before she did something dumb, like dash away into the Hufflepuff common room to lick her wounds.

“As someone living outside the magical community for the past eleven years, to see such a magical, space-defying object was…” Riddle-Yeh stroked his chin, a small smile flashing across his face. “… refreshing, I suppose.”

Siobhan's smile grew. “Yeah, stuff from the muggle world is really interesting to me too. I mean, they were the ones who invented all kinds of instruments. Like the violin artisans of Italy…”

Riddle-Yeh nodded thoughtfully. “Ah yes, from Cremona, right?”

“Yes! It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Say, what’s your name again?” Wren Li inquired suddenly. She’d been watching their interaction in silence, but now her face had thawed out into a smile. The relief and excitement at the prospect of new friends made Siobhan feel like flying.

“M’ Siobhan.”

“Cool name, Siobhan! I’m Wren.“

“You may call me either Tom or Zhongli,” Riddle-Yeh offered.

Oh, was that his second name? She wondered what it meant. “… John Lee?” Siobhan tried, brow furrowed.

“Pffffft!” Wren covered her mouth and burst into giggles.

“My apologies,” Riddle-Yeh sighed. “Please do not worry, Miss Siobhan. She is not making fun of you.”

“The ‘Miss’ returns!!” Wren Li cried, slapping the table in amusement.

“Um…” Siobhan scratched her head. “Sorry, did I butcher your name?”

“I assure you, many people have done worse,” The Ravenclaw boy smiled in mild amusement. “If you want to call me Zhongli, do as you did earlier but replace the n with a ‘ng’ sound.”

Having recovered from her laugh fest, Wren Li patted her taller friend’s shoulder with an air of affectionate mockery. “As you can tell, this guy here needs more friends. So, want to study with us in the library during vacants?”

Thank you, dearest Merlin, Helga Hufflepuff, Great Grandad Eldritch, whoever was watching her because yes, yes, yes! 

“I-I’d love to!” Siobhan beamed, legs trembling from the sheer amazement at her fumbled success.

“Nice! In that case…  A-Li. Why do you still have those with you?”

The taller boy— Jong-Lee, Siobhan practiced out the syllables— sighed and tucked a long and rectangular case back into his robes. “Partly nostalgia for the taste of home, partly wishful thinking that Hogwarts served a continental cuisine.“

“I dare you to eat Shepherd’s pie using those chopsticks,” Wren deadpanned.

Zhongli sniffed, face transforming into a strange mix of offence and bewilderment. “… Now that’s just absurd. Each cuisine must be properly enjoyed with its matching utensils. Any self-respecting appreciator of the culinary arts would be taken aback by such actions—“

“It’s a dare, A-Li—“

The funny exchange caused an idea to pop into Siobhan’s head. “Do you guys want to visit the kitchens? I’m not sure if the house elves know how to cook non-English food, but they’re very nice, and will probably give you lots of ingredients! You can make the food you want, and we can eat and chat there!”

“Siobhan, you’re a genius!” Wren exclaimed, eyes wide.

“That would be lovely,” Zhongli smiled at her.

After that, Siobhan happily showed them the way, silently and profusely thanking the Hufflepuff tradition of letting even first years know about the entrance to the kitchens. Wren had a great time tickling the pear into a vibrating frenzy and Zhongli seemed to enjoy bustling about the kitchens. He also managed to make a yummy dish in record time with the house elves’ help, in spite of his strange cooking habits.

( “It is a shame I cannot slow-cook this soup to its finest…”

“Why, what’s the ideal cooking time?”

“Six hours.”

“…”

“… What?”)

They ended up gathered around a wooden table, sipping soup and laughing as Wren recounted her and Zhongli’s eventful train ride to Hogwarts.

In other words, it was the best day of Siobhan’s life.

IV. Local firstie asked why he works out: "I must be able to lift my husband by the time I marry him."

Dear Baobao,

Please write more, your Mama and I are eager to hear what you’ve been up to! Over here, we’ve been helping Auntie Nan move some of her things to Marjin Alley, and exploring Diagon Alley more (not that we can afford much there haha).

But we did buy the first book of a novel series for you. The title is ‘The Harbinger’s Tale.’ Sounds pretty dramatic, huh? According to the synopsis, it’s set in a world before the spell system, where people wielded the ancient magic of the elements! Reminds me of the legends your Popo used to tell me as a kid… though it seems unlikely that the story would draw from our myths since the author’s pseudonym sounds Italian, but one can never be too sure.

Anyway, we can't wait to see you this winter break and give you your gift!

Love,

Baba

Snorting, Wren fed her owl a treat before letting it head off back to the owlery. The book sounded interesting, for sure, but why did her parents have to spoil their own gift? Sigh…

Life in Hogwarts seemed to pass by like a breeze. Wren was enjoying her classes so far, especially potions. She wasn’t sure why, but measuring and weighing ingredients, mixing and stirring cauldrons full of colors at just the right pacing and moments was super fun. It felt just like solving a puzzle or cracking a tricky word problem. Though she had to pause her favourite hobby for Hogwarts, she vowed to participate in as many mathletics events next summer. The approaching winter holiday break didn’t leave much room for competition preparation, unfortunately.

“Morning Wren!” Siobhan jogged over and peered at her lacklustre charms essay. “Do you need help?”

“Yes please,” Wren groaned. “Honestly, I’m supposed to describe the practical uses of the levitation charm, but I always struggle with the wand movements for some reason! I’d feel like an idiot handing this over to Professor Shafiq if I haven’t even mastered the charm!”

Scratching her neck, Siobhan frowned and muttered, “Oi, there’s no need to put yourself down like that…”

With her impressive height and stylish, honey blonde hair, Wren would never have guessed that the girl in front of her was one of the most socially anxious people around. People truly came in all sizes and shapes, she supposed.

After getting more comfortable with Wren and A-Li, Siobhan had slowly bloomed into a cheerful and thoughtful friend they could lean on. It was nice— especially given the fact that they hadn’t found many friends in Ravenclaw.

For A-Li, it was just a combination of 1) being muggleborn [alienating the blood purists] + 2) his stoic face and old man way of talking + 3) his rising reputation as an honor student. To the ravens, he was either too quirky, too intimidating, or he was an academic rival or someone undesirable. Instead of friends, he’d acquired a strange reputation— as expected— and some tag-along Slytherins, for some reason. So far, all they’d done is occasionally tail him around campus and gossip about him, so Wren was content to ignore them for now.

Of course, by her close association with the new ‘house weirdo,’ so to speak, she wasn’t approached that much either. It was why having Siobhan around was so nice. Wren is forever glad she had shown them the kitchens— it had practically become their friend group’s unofficial hangout spot; a place where they could study, do their hobbies, or talk about anything under the sun. The library was another of their haunts, but they only preferred going there when the house elves were busy cooking and thus shouldn’t be disturbed. This was due to the fact that all of them tended to be passionate academic debaters, much to the librarian’s horror.

Presently, Siobhan looked around the kitchens and hummed in confusion. “I’d say we practice the levitation charm together to help with your essay but… is Zhongli still asleep?

“Nope, he’s doing his morning routine by the lake— wait.”

Suddenly, a brilliant idea sprung into Wren’s mind. Grinning and packing up her bag, she grabbed Siobhan and said, “Let’s go to him!”

“Morning routine?” Siobhan asked as Wren dragged her out of the kitchens. “Wait, is he done already?”

“Probably not! But I have the perfect idea of how to test the levitation charm…”

When they finally got there, A-Li was doing push-ups at a steady pace. He’d forgone his school robes in favour of a breathable muggle attire of a tanktop and pants. “Siobhan, Wren,” he greeted without pausing his movements. “Good morning. Not to worry, I am nearly done with my routine…”

“Ohhhh, routine as in exercise! Do you do this every weekend?”

Wren snorted. “Actually, he does this everyday, plus some laps around the lake and swinging around a tree branch, among other things.”

“Wicked!!” Siobhan exclaimed, eyes glowing in admiration.

“It is merely something necessary to keep me in shape,” A-Li demurred, standing up to drink from his flask.

“Say, can you do a few more push-ups?” Wren asked casually.

A-Li glanced at the wand held in her hand, then raised a suspicious eyebrow. “I was planning on doing a few more, but care to elaborate why you felt the need to ask?”

Grinning, Wren cleared her throat and smoothened her face to an overly serious expression. When she spoke, it was in a severe gravity perfect for an A-Li impression. “A contract, Mr. Riddle-Yeh. You continue towards your goal of building muscle, while I practice my Wingardium Leviosa by levitating these textbooks—“ she gestured at the interior of her book bag— “onto your back.”

“… Huh?”

“Acceptable,” A-Li nodded, eyes closing in satisfaction. “May this contract be as solid as stone.”

Siobhan gaped at them, then stared at the thick and clunky textbooks and gaped some more. “Wait, can Zhongli really take all that weight?!”

“ ‘Course he can! He weightlifts at home, you know. Now c’mon, help me practice these wand movements—“

As they strolled across the lake, Lovetta abruptly stopped, jaw dropping to the floor.

Dean paused as Kay asked, “What is it?”

The girl only pointed at something wordlessly ahead of them. This was how Dean witnessed that nerd Riddle-Yeh doing… push-ups?! with two of Binn’s prescribed and thick-as-hell textbooks on his back, while Diggory and Li levitated more books on top of him.

“What the fuck??” Kay gaped, eyes nearly popping out of her sockets. “He’s mad! They’re mad!”

“He’s barely breaking a sweat…” Dean muttered, staring as the crazy muggleborn pushed himself up and down at a steady pace. Merda, just who exactly is this guy?!

V. Waiting, waiting.

“I feel like you could also be a Ravenclaw,” Wren remarked one day after they wrapped up a study session about charms. Honestly, it was her least favourite subject at this point. At least her two friends were here for her— Siobhan was always willing to demonstrate wand movements when Wren needed it, and A-Li had chunks of technical knowledge about charms from reading about them constantly, a byproduct of his hyperfixation on the Extension charm.

“That’s what the Sorting Hat also said,” said Siobhan, a sheepish smile coming to her lips. “It also said that for Slytherin, funnily enough.”

“Wow, Slytherin?”

“Yeah, since I want to become someone important in Wizengamot, maybe even an official in the Ministry.”

Wren looked up, surprised. “Really?”

Nodding slowly, Siobhan said, “I know I don’t really look it, but… becoming someone with influence is really important to me. There are so many people with Wizengamot house seats that don’t do much policy change, which is disappointing. It requires a lot of spade work and time to be a policy maker, as well as charisma, which I’m not sure I have… but I already have the privilege of inheriting two house seats, so… ”

“I want to become… someone who can make significant changes to help everyone in the Wizarding world get along better!” Siobhan pumped a fist in the air. Then she looked at them and dropped her hand, flushing.

“Uhm, so I guess I’m a Hufflepuff with Slytherin ambitions and a Ravenclaw interest in research… ‘probably why I was a hat stall—”

“That’s an admirable dream, Miss Siobhan,” A-Li gazed at her warmly.

Wren could only bob her head in enthusiasm, awed and speechless as she was.

Embarrassed, their friend could only duck her head and squeak, “Just call me Siobhan! Anyway, what do you guys want to be when you grow up?”

Wren opened her mouth, then paused. “Er, I dunno yet. Maybe I could invent a new potion someday...”

“Yeah that sounds like something you’d do!”

They waited for A-Li to say something, only to be greeted with silence. When Wren and Siobhan finally looked at him, A-Li was staring off into the distance. In that moment, his quivering brown eyes seemed to cage something incredibly sad.

The next words he uttered were so soft, so solemn and resolute, yet in the silence of the kitchens, they heard it all the same.

“I want to find my soulmate… then, I will complete a long and fulfilling life by their side.”

They had not known just how grave that seemingly simple dream was until the dawn of their second year. 

Chapter Text

I. Just a man who's trying to come home

It was the last evening of August, Marjin Alley was bustling about as usual, and Quinn Weasley was miserably stuck in line.

How one got stuck in line infront of a trinkets and pottery stall, he had no idea. The culprit, a pre-pubescent little shit, was still prattling on about something or another infront of him. By Merlin, they were the only customers here, yet he was taking so long! The seller was practically gobsmacked, watching a little boy half his height spend five minutes becoming his unpaid publicist.

"— another reason why this is a good teapot." The smartypants was saying. He looked comical, arms crossed and eyes narrowed like some collector giving a verdict, all while baby fat still clung to his cheeks. Beside him, two of his friends seemed on the verge bursting into laughter, yet were doing absolutely nothing to stop him.

… Was he really going to pick a fight with a kid for the right to shut the fuck up?

"Not only is this teapot skillfully glazed, the patterns that decorate it are a fetching blue akin to noctilucous ja—" The boy finally paused, then coughed into his fist. "Apologies… ah, where was I?"

Quinn glanced at his pocketwatch. The arm engraved with Ajax was still resting at Marjin Alley, instead of Mortal Peril. Good. If something happened to his little brother while this nonsense was going down, he'd eat his socks.

"We can buy it, A-Li," The kid's mum finally swooped in and saved his sorry arse. "How much?"

The seller broke out of his stupor and rattled out a price. Soon, the responsible adult quickly ushered the kids away, the two girls teasing and ribbing the boy as they went.

"Wow, your mum is really nice… that's three purchases now…"

"Yeah, what was that huh? 'I must have it'… if I ever said that to Mama, she'd ground me!"

"Admittedly, the role of a filial son is still a new experience for me… nonetheless, that was an extraordinary find that I simply could not let slide…"

Soon, they disappeared among the alley crowd. With immense relief, Quinn paid and hurried along to where Ajax was waiting by a bench 'round the opposite corner. At the sight of him, his brother halted his pebble-kicking and smiled. As if that act could fool Quinn.

"Sorry, there was a bloody line that took longer than expected… " Quinn sighed. "Not sure that charmed lock was worth all that."

"The what?"

"This thing." Quinn pulled it out for Ajax to see. The bronze locket he got had a tastefully engraved lion face at the front.

"Some wizards like to keep their stuff securely under lock and passwords, so to speak. I personally prefer keys, but Sep will probably find it fun. I'm planning to give it when he gets his own house with Miss Cedrella."

"Huh… do you think it could withstand a thief's brute force?"

The locket lion gave an affronted roar in response.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to make you test it." Quinn snorted, pocketing the gift before this little brother got any other bad ideas.

He pinched Ajax's cheek as a light scolding. "Let's not get distracted, you little shit."

"Ow?"

Quinn huffed. "So, are we going to do our last errand or will you go home to punch something instead? Mind you, if you're going to vent, you may as well channel it into your draft about Prince Yasha and Consultant Wangsheng—"

"Yeah, okay," Ajax sighed. "Let's get this over with…"

Quinn patted him on the back. "That's the spirit."

And so he took Ajax by the hand and led him to the tent near the back, where the old diviner resided. "Let's see what that old codger has to say now."

The inside of the tent was as dusty and dimly lit as always, casting strange shadows along rusted bottles and crystal balls. Ajax waited in the customer's chair while Quinn fought the heebie jeebies and tried to stay still. He tensed when a pale hand lifted the black curtains near the back, but instead of the cryptic old diviner, they were met with a nervous young face.

"You're not the old man!" Quinn squawked.

"A-apologies dearest customers, but my master is away…" The assistant wrung their hands, sweating. Engraved on the lopsided pin on his chest was 'Apprentice Trelawney.'

Huh, a Trelawney. Hopefully it was one of the legit ones.

"I, of course, can divine for you as well…"

"Then let's not waste time," A direct, nonchalant voice cut in. Quinn startled when he realised it came from his brother.

"Ten or so years ago, your master told my mother— who was then pregnant with me— some funny things. He said I would be an adventurous child. A mourner. He said I should be named Ajax, because it was most fitting for me."

"W-well, no doubt, my master is never wrong!"

"It precisely because he wasn't that I'm here today." His brother smiled, eyes devoid of light. Slowly, he spread his arms in one carelessly arrogant movement. "It's my turn to get the answers I'm due. I'm willing to pay, of course… as long as you can satisfy my questions."

…

This… was new.

A strange, daredevil confidence had wrapped around Ajax snugly like a winter coat. Power suffused naturally into his voice and posture, turning his presence into something menacing. Without them knowing, he'd plunged the transaction into an interrogation. The apprentice was pinned to his seat, unnerved, while his brother watched on, sharp and assessing.

"O-of course, Mr. Weasley!" The apprentice squeaked, sweating even more profusely. "N-now, if you could just hold out your hand… or, or a crystal ball! Ye-es, that would also do…"

Ajax frowned. "Would that change the potency of the divining?"

"N-no! No, o-of course not—"

As the assistant scrambled towards the shelves, Quinn put a hand on Ajax's shoulder. "H-Hey. Listen, we don't have to do this if you aren't feeling it, okay?"

He suppressed a sigh. Quinn would never be afraid of his brother but… "I just wanted you to— to get whatever's been plaguing you at night off your chest."

The dangerous, arrogant prince melted until it was only Ajax, his strange but fragile little brother, watching him with a soft look. "I know. And I'm grateful for that. I don't think— I don't think I would have been able to come here by myself. I'm—"

He bit his lip and ducked, the red curls of his hair obscuring his face. "I don't know if I'm ready to hear the truth, but I have to push through it."

"You can't be a mourner forever." His brother whispered, melancholy filling his eyes. "мама and Mum would both agree."

Quinn elected not to ask who mama was. Now wasn't the time.

With that, Ajax placed his hands on the proffered crystal ball and closed his eyes.

"Isn't it usually the diviner who touches the crystal ball?" Quinn pointed out dubiously.

"Please don't question my practices," the apprentice begged, shooting a fearful look at Ajax. "Besides, Mr. Weasley, I do have some Sight, you know. I can tell that what your brother seeks from the future has connections to the past. A slight reversal of steps is necessary!"

The crystal ball began glowing before Quinn could retort. Quickly, the apprentice leaned forward, carefully watching Ajax's expression. "You can ask your questions now, Mr. Weasley."

"… Is my family on Teyvat fine?"

In response, blurry figures swirled into the crystal ball like a watercolour painting.

Quinn resisted the urge to look closer. This is a sensitive matter, he reminded himself. The story of Prince Yasha was a hint at something, but until the kneazle was out of the bag, it wasn't Quinn's business— wasn't his bloody business, ever since Ajax came toddling to him with the request to play the lullaby. And Ajax clearly was still hiding a lot from them.

"I see… figures eating at a table… warmth and hearth… an old couple watching their children gather flowers… a young woman hugging two youths…"

"A solemn gathering… a grand carraige, taking them to a lavishly cared-for grave—"

"Enough." His brother barked, voice low and hoarse. Quinn decided it was wiser not to look at his face.

"Next question. My master Skirk— is she still alive?"

Skirk. The name of Prince Yasha's master.

…

He wasn't stupid. The inkling Mum shared with him was only getting stronger by the minute, but he'd always stopped himself from speculating… and yet…

The crystal ball's interior blurred once more into a murky, midnight blue.

"I… cannot see her, Mr. Weasley. B-but! The crystal ball remains alight, so she must be alive… there is just a hazy interference—"

"The confirmation alone is fine, thank you. Last question. My… my…"

The cold, curt voice stuttered into something hesitant— then silence.

Some deep breaths. A click of teeth.

"The love of my life— Archons, lives even… Will… will I ever see him again?"

…

Fuck.

This was just too much to take in.

The crystal ball pulsed gold, glowing brighter and brighter, before darkening into the color of ash. The diviner was silent, watching the minute flashes of gold and shadow with manic eyes— then he shouted, "Mortal peril!"

Ajax's eyes shot open. "What?"

Quinn cursed and checked his watch, relieved to see both him and Ajax still firmly at Marjin Alley. Frowning, he turned back to the shaking diviner. "Oi, answer him! What's going on?!"

"Your beloved will face a g-great danger," the pale-faced apprentice pronounced. "You will only be able to reunite if he can… evade this… s-stench of death."

There was a sudden cracked, tinkling sound, like glass shattering. Quinn and the apprentice stared as the crystal ball came apart in his brother's white knuckled grip. A glance at Ajax's face revealed an expression both fearful and livid.

"What the fuck does that mean?!"

Quinn could see him clearly now, the ghost of the prince. It was that madness and grief, that haunted love overtaking his brother's shuddering form.

"Answer me."

It was an order, not a request— issued by the soul of a bloodied general who caught the scent of weakness.

"H-he is a-alive for now!" The diviner cried, drawing back. His eyes were wide and unseeing, and terrified. "At Hogwarts! Your beloved… th-there is a chance he will s-survive! That's all I saw! Th-the limits of m-my Sight— Mercy, m-mercy! Tartaglia, mercy!"

The man gurgled and fainted.

His brother said nothing for the rest of the trip back. He didn't touch his notebook and pencil, he couldn't speak at dinner, didn't even ask for the lullaby. It got everyone fretting about, but Quinn told them firmly that he'd deal with it. He was going to fix what he started.

When night fell, he found Ajax sitting in the garden with a basin full of water, glaring at his wet hands.

"БЛЯТЬ!" Ajax dunked his hands into the basin then pulled them up. He stared at them, cursed again, and submerged his hands once more.

"Hey…" Quinn squatted down to his eyelevel. "Look… is the Prince's ghost forcing you to… to do all this for him?"

Ajax drew his hands out of the basin and stood up.

Quinn stared up at him, feeling uncertain. He thought he'd been prepared for this inevitable confrontation, yet this strange figure who loomed over him that sad, sad grimace was hardly recognisable. Quinn felt like a little child again, small and helpless.

"I've always been the Prince." Ajax admitted. "I am him."

"Oh."

That… well.

His brother dropped to the ground and sighed.

"So," Quinn began, then hesitated. He looked at his brother. Prince Yasha.

The daring, battle-hungry Royal.

The hopeless, lovestruck fool.

The doting older brother.

The Snow Fairy's loyal servant.

The spouse of the Dragon Emperor...

… It was a lot.

Slowly, he tried to reconcile all that knowledge in the face of his soft-faced, ten year old little brother. His brother who had likely witnessed things he'd never seen (and would never want to see.)

"So… you can't let go of your past."

A dull shake of the head.

"I don't know how I ended up here… rebirth is a thing in Teyvat, but— hah, it doesn't matter..."

Rebirth…

"No matter what, I just can't forget them." Ajax whispered, head in his hands. "I can't… especially since no one else knows them. People reading about their fictional counterparts in my retelling… it isn't the same. I just can't."

"Okay." Quinn places a hand on those trembling shoulders. "Okay. But that fella— he claimed that your Dragon Emperor is alive, right? At Hogwarts…"

Just trying to imagine the living version of "Consultant Wangsheng" masquerading as a short firstie felt absurd. What cosmic bullshit was he living in?

"Zhongli…" His brother hiccuped. When he lifted his head, tears were streaming down his face.

Quinn pulled him into a hug, not knowing what to say.

"I didn't even think he'd be here… and now h-he's in danger!" Ajax cried, clinging to him.

"I know…"

"A-and he's not an Adeptus anymore… or maybe he is! I don't know… I don't even know what he's facing… I'm just sitting here, useless. Can't even find him, can't protect him, can't control Hydro—"

"Stop." Quinn intoned firmly. "Don't say all that to yourself."

"I miss him…" Ajax sobbed into his shirt. "I need him…"

Quinn didn't know how long he stayed there, throat choked up, hugging and rocking his little brother (big brother? No, no, he's not thinking about it—), until little fingers, small yet so strong, tightened around his collar.

"I have to get to Hogwarts."

A sigh. He expected this. "You can't enter Hogwarts earlier than eleven."

"You think I care?"

"No, really. Believe me, all the nepotism in the world couldn't get the Malfoys or the Blacks a spot in Hogwarts earlier than eleven. Look—"

Quinn pulled back, clutching Ajax's shoulders. "I can help you look for him. Merlin, the entire family would would, but stop panicking! What you can do for now is… is release the second book of the Harbinger's Tale. Drum it up for all to see, and maybe he'll see it and find you. Train your magic, keep writing, and just don't do anything reckless!"

His brother said nothing.

"One year! Just one year, and you'll be in Hogwarts… c'mon…"

Slowly, Ajax pulled away. Quinn opened his mouth to try again, only to notice an eerie blue glow coming from his brother's hands.

Beside them, the basin was rattling, the water within sloshing to and fro. With a splash, it threw itself into Ajax's hands—

— swirling, twisting and flowing, until it was a sharp, jagged shape—

"My riptide," Ajax breathed out. His shock quickly morphed into extreme delight and satisfaction. He slammed his fists together, and the eerie water blades fused and morphed into some sort of spear.

Quinn stared at the literal liquid power flowing between his brother's fingers. "Merlin— what is—"

"I'll do it."

His brother turned back to face him. "I'll stay put until I get my letter. I'll become stronger; I'll pump out so many stories and flood Flourish and Blotts! And if that isn't enough— if that isn't enough, then I'll build myself a reputation at Hogwarts."

Ajax grinned. It was a shaky thing, sheer yearning and manic determination transforming his face. "I'll be such a rascal that Xiansheng will have no choice but to recognise me."

II. The Shroud

Wren felt like she'd been plunged underwater.

She knew they were at Auntie Maelin's place in Chinatown, nearing midnight. The adults were talking in hushed, rapid voices, but she couldn't make out all the words.

She could only here the air raid sirens.

An endless wailing ringing in her ears. A city crying out in fright.

"— on alert— London— threat of—"

"—bombing! —evacuation —women and children—"

"—Can't— docklands— my income— Maelin and A-Li—"

"Miss Wren."

"— stay— can't leave her alone—"

"—Hogwarts— safe—"

"Miss Wren."

Slowly, she lifted her head.

A-Li's face was stone cold. Like her, he hadn't said much since the announcement. A quiet fury was simmering in his eyes— so strange and wild from the ever unshakeable mountain that he was.

There was something off.

Maybe it was because she was scared and paralysed and couldn't tell nightmares from reality, and the sirens, they couldn't stop wailing, shut up shut up shut up shut up—

There was something vaguely frightening about him right now.

Yet when his voice returned, it was steadier than everything surrounding them.

"We need to contact Siobhan by Floo." He turned to the adults and raised his voice. "Maelin-jie, Youngen-Jie. I'm going to contact the Diggorys if they can help us."

"Of course— go ahead—"

She felt herself being guided to the living room. "War," a voice growled somewhere near, yet far. Who was it? No one. Everyone. She was surrounded by a mind-numbing cacophony, sinking, sinking, sinking… hearing the strangest things. Everyone was distorted.

"Even in this life, there is no escape… this is unacceptable."

The hiss of Floo powder. A-Li enunciated the address as Wren curled into a ball and covered her ears.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, Die-die was shaking her awake and handing over her packed school trunk. It was still dark outside, so it must have been early morning. The sirens had stopped, leaving behind a grave silence.

At her peripheral, A-Li seemed to be arguing with his mother. Gold was spilling from his fingers, tinkling down the apartment floor. He kept offering his overflowing fist, and every time, Auntie Maelin looked so lost and so, so defeated. Eventually, Auntie Nan stepped in and accepted it in her place.

"She will need the Mora I gave her." A-Li said when Wren asked. "Miss Maelin may be a successful businesswoman, but her wealth is not bottomless. Even she will struggle in helping pay for your parent's indefinite stay at Leaky Cauldron, not to mention the added cost of housing Miss Nan."

"Th-thank you… I…" What could she even say to that?

"Step into the Floo, Miss Wren," he said simply. "You can rest again soon."

She barely remembered the rest of the night, drifting off into a wispy, uneasy sleep the moment she hit the bed at the Diggory's cottage. At times, she could hear voices muttering in dreams or moments of half wakefulness—

"— blankets, dear. Blankets—"

"— why— how can I help? Zhongli—"

"— catch the Express tomorrow— Hogwarts—"

"This all changes things— must make countermeasures—

"This mortal vessel— it cannot fail me before I see him again… no, I will not allow it—"

The moment an empty carriage in the Hogwarts Express was within sight, Wren scrambled to bury her face into the seat cushions.

Who knows how dirty these seats were or how she must have looked like a mess at the platform, pillow marks on her face and dark circles under her eyes, but Wren couldn't bring herself to care.

There was a grunt of effort near her as Mrs. Diggory hauled up her trunk. Watching her, a pinprick of embarrassment still managed to cut through Wren's exhaustion and prompt her to stand up, but the Diggorys made her sit down again.

A-Li had already secured his trunk above their heads despite their insistence, and was now entirely absorbed in the thick tomes he kept flipping through. Siobhan kept shooting glances at him, even as she waved to her Mum. Hm.

With a distant whistle, the Express pushed forward in an excruciatingly sluggish manner. It did nothing to clear the uneasy silence clouding their compartment. After a moment, Siobhan stood up.

"Zhongli… what exactly are you planning?"

A-Li set down his book. "I am thinking of brewing the Invigoration Draught in my spare time."

Wren was far from optimal brain power at the moment, but the name did ring some bells. "That's pretty advanced," she murmured, before adding, "Not that I doubt we could pull it off."

"It would be useful to know should Youngen-jie and Maelin-jie ever have the need for more… gold. Making—" He paused, sighing. "Excuse me… locating the gold drained me more than I expected. Truly, the current limits of my powers are not ideal at all."

He could have just said magic. And really, only A-Li would describe accidental magic that could locate gold as 'not ideal.' Still, brewing the potion was a challenge and more importantly, a good distraction. "I'm all for trying out a cool potion."

"We can all help you make it," Siobhan agreed. Wren thought that was that, until Siobhan said, "but that's not all you're planning, isn't it?"

The compartment descended into silence again. Wren pushed herself up, eyes flickering between them— at Siobhan, nervous but standing her ground, and A-Li, stoic and unreadable.

When Siobhan spoke again, the words rushed out of her like an out of control faucet.

"You said you were going to sleep last night, but when I was getting blankets for Wren, I saw you reading spellbooks in the library instead. I saw those covers, I know the titles in my family library— you had your usual advanced charms stuff, but some of those tomes detailed high-level transfiguration… books about Animagi."

Wren stared at Zhongli. His face betrayed nothing but a minute furrow to his brow.

"… How careless of me." Zhongli murmured, as though mildly displeased, disappointed in himself perhaps… but that was all. He didn't deny it.

Wren wished she could pry open that inscrutable brain and just— yell directly at it. Just a bit. No wonder Siobhan seemed so tense. What in the blazes was he doing?! "Zhongli! Are you trying to become an Animagus? That's dangerous!"

"Zhongli…" Siobhan hedged, clearly out of her element. "I… I know I'm an outsider here. I can't even imagine… what last night was like. I want to help you both, in any way I can… but are you sure about this? Becoming an Animagus… Merlin, I want to be one someday! But it's mighty complicated… and can easily go wrong…"

"Rest assured, I have mapped out the precautions." Zhongli stood up, stubborn and arms crossed. "Perhaps a contract is in order."

Wren lunged, trying (and failing) to grab his arm. Damn Zhongli and his fast reflexes! "You can't! You can't afford to do this now! Not when there's too much— what would Auntie Maelin and Auntie Nan say!?"

"It is because of them that I must do this now." Zhongli stated, eyes hard and glinting. That ancient fury from last night still lingered, Wren realised. Not directed at her, but molten and solidified all the same. All this time, she'd admired him for his more composed reaction to this mess, but maybe… maybe he was more affected than she thought.

"I will regain a part of myself. A form that can endure those bombs, that can resonate better with the earth, to ensure I can live through this threat. Assist me in becoming an Animagus, and in exchange…" He zeroed in on Wren, regarding her solemnly. "I vow to protect the people of Muggle Chinatown from this conflict."

III. Rex Incognito

From a distance, Abraxas Malfoy observed Tom Riddle-Yeh as he duelled the air.

Well, maybe 'duelled' was a stretch. The mudblood's wand was nowhere in sight. Instead, he wielded a hulking tree branch almost twice his height like a weapon.

Leaping kicks and ruthless stabbing motions were executed in swift succession before his mind could predict them. Like some kind of graceful yet barbaric dance.

It was fascinating, how effortless Riddle-Yeh made it seem. Fascinating— and mildly terrifying, how Abraxas had no choice but to consider this curious second year as a person of interest.

"He's a bit intense, isn't he?" Abraxas commented idly.

"A-a bit more wound up than usual," Cousin Lovetta admitted. "I-It doesn't bode well for me."

"Either way, you're bound to upset him," Abraxas shrugged. "You were told to make trouble for Riddle-Yeh this year?"

"Ordered," Lovetta corrected quietly. The chilly autumn breeze blew, and she buried herself further into her Slytherin-green scarf.

Exactly what had this bookworm and exercise freak thrown at Madison to get his knickers all twisted? Abraxas truly wanted to know. For future reference. Like on the day he finally gets that arsehole and publicly destroys him on the Malfoy winter gala.

One day…

"I yearn for the day I can humiliate that nitwit…" Abraxas sighed dreamily. Shaking his head, he smiled and patted Lovetta's head. "For now, we shall endure. Malfoys are not ones to be ordered; you know that as well as I do. Care to share your plans to your favourite cousin?"

Lovetta giggled, lightly swatting at his hand. It got her to brighten up a little, at least. "I-I do have something… I'm thinking of…"

"Oh?"

"I'm thinking… of taking his m-most prized possession."

Abraxas' eyebrows jumped to his hairline. Well. That was more ruthless than he expected.

"A-as in material! M-most prized material possession!" Lovetta stuttered, hands flying as though to assuage him— which is ridiculous, because he's certainly done much worse to his political opponents. Oh, Lovetta and her soft-hearted ways.

"A-and I won't actually take it permanently! I'll just… just get it, c-cast the Doubling Charm, and present the fake to my… t-to Madison, for proof! It's fulfilling the condition a-and an insult… all in one!"

"A superb plan," Abraxas beamed. He very much liked the idea of Madison unkowingly displaying a worthless trophy for this conquest. "Shall we look through the Malfoy library for the right spellbook over Yule? Then we can learn the Doubling Charm together."

"Th-that would be nice!"

Not even the vicious thrusts of Riddle-Yeh's makeshift spear in the distance could dampen Abraxas' glee— especially when an opportunity presented itself so soon.

"Is there some tea party happening at the Ravens that I don't know about?" Kay Almonte asked at breakfast.

Abraxas looked up just in time to see a tawny brown owl come flying, carrying an honest-to-Merlin large teapot. He stared as it descended low enough for Siobhan Diggory to take the offending parcel, before landing and devouring all her bacon.

"Is Riddle-Yeh involved in this?" Dean muttered beside him. "Ugh. I don't want to know."

"Why would you need to bring a teapot to Hogwarts?" Lovetta wondered.

"Son of a mad muggle is going to balance hot teapots on his back—"

"But the tea would just spill all over and scald him…"

This was a stupid conversation, Abraxas thought. Fitting, given the eccentricities of the person in question.

There were two teapots infront of Riddle-Yeh now. The mudblood was polishing them carefully as he conversed with his little friend group. Glancing over, Abraxas caught Lovetta's gaze.

What did those teapots mean to Riddle-Yeh, he wondered.

A rustle of pages, a thoughtful hum. "How convenient."

"Convenient?" Siobhan asked, trying to keep her voice down. Fortunately, Wren didn't so much as stir from her nap; a damned good thing that was.

It had been quite a few weeks since the start of the school year, yet Wren was still having trouble sleeping these days. Not to mention, she had just exhausted herself from successfully brewing a batch of Invigoration Draught yesterday— their first step in this whole plan. Siobhan admired her strength of mind so much.

Bless Loris— Siobhan's owl— and her unwavering loyalty and stamina for swiftly delivering the heavy potions ingredients that made this possible. That, along with the teapots Zhongli wanted for some reason. She really deserved all the bacon, owl treats, and rest, and their resident potions master in-the-making deserved her rest too.

Beside her, Zhongli shut the thick tome on Wizengamot law— one he'd requested from her family library— and cast a discreet glance around. The astronomy tower was usually busy at night and empty during the day, but all of them had been more precautious as of late.

"The law pertaining to illegal use of the Undetectable Extension charm does not act like the Trace," Zhongli said. "Simply put, it has no real-time alerting system. It merely enforces a product registry on involved businesses and penalties for illegal casters if caught."

Siobhan bit her lip. "A rather obvious loophole... "

"One that serves to my advantage," Zhongli confirmed.

There was a groan as Wren peeked her head up and squinted at them. Oh, oops.

"… What does the Undetectable Extension charm… have to do with the Animagus plan?"

"They are not directly related. Rather, the Undetectable Extension Charm is another key to our current dilemma." Zhongli hummed. "It will serve as our way of making emergency evacuation centers."

Siobhan inhaled sharply. "You… that's brilliant, Zhongli!"

Wren sat up, now wide awake. "How will that work? Is the charm powerful enough to house both our families? Plus the other people in Chinatown?"

"Perhaps now would be a good time to test it." With that, Zhongli pulled out the two teapots— the glazed one he purchased at Marjin Alley and the faded floral-patterned teapot from Siobhan's childhood.

She'd been wondering a few days ago as to why Zhongli had asked out of the blue if the Diggorys had an old teapot they no longer used. You wish to help us, do you not?

Unsure as to how a teapot would help their current predicament, she asked Mum for it anyway. And now—

"Wait…" Wren squinted. "Are you going to place the charm on the teapots?"

"Indeed."

"But… why teapots?" Siobhan asked, just a tad confused. "They're so fragile… wouldn't a bag be better?"

"… I suppose." Zhongli stated with some reluctance. "However, I— hm. It is difficult to explain, but it would be easier for me if we use a teapot."

"But why?"

"I am more familiar with the dimensions of the expanded space of a teapot, so to speak."

Huh??

"Fine, so let's say we go with a teapot. Are you going to cast it?" Wren grumbled. She'd clearly decided to move on and attribute this to another of Zhongli's quirks. Though as lost as ever, Siobhan opted to do the same.

"A moment." Zhongli murmured as he drew his wand from his pocket. Pointing his wandtip, he closed his eyes and traced a circular shape around the air of Siobhan's old teapot, like he was sketching something into existence.

"Capacious extremis."

For a moment, all was still. Then, three golden cubic runes glowed and etched themselves on the teapot's surface, before vanishing. At the same time, Zhongli doubled over, inhaling sharply.

"Zhongli!"

"A-Li!"

"… I am fine," Zhongli murmured between laboured breaths. "I may have… overestimated… my own capabilities…"

Slowly, he sank down into a chair and closed his eyes. "… A flask… of Invigoration Draught, please… Miss Wren…"

"Aiyah right!" Wren frantically sifted through the contents of her bag. "You're lucky I kept one flask in my bag… the rest are still stashed in the kitchens…"

After Zhongli downed the preferred flask, he seemed mostly back to himself, enough to lift the teapot's lid and stick his arm in all the way to his elbow. Blimey, the charm really worked!

"So wicked…" Siobhan mumbled.

"How much space do you think you made?" Wren asked in trepidation.

"There seems to be a ladder… I suppose that would be our method of entree." Zhongli withdrew his arm. His breathing was still a bit laboured, but he sounded amused. "I will be checking the teapot's interior. You are free to join me, if you wish."

Placing the lid on the ground, Zhongli climbed into the teapot and vanished.

Blinking, Wren stood up. "Well, now my curiosity is killing me."

"Me too…"

They looked at each other and shared a laugh. One by one, they climbed into the teapot's belly and down the ladder—

And into a bare room.

It was about the size of a classroom, with walls and ceilings of deep brown wood and a floor of smooth stone tiles. There were some small windows lining the room's sides, depicting a blurry hint of of green grass and orange skies, but no door.

At the center of the room, Zhongli was staring at his hands, looking generally displeased.

"To think this is the current limits of my powers… Guizhong would laugh at me…"

"Are you pulling my leg? This is so wicked!" Siobhan breathed, eyes sparkling. "The fact that you could pull off a Ministry-monitored charm just at second year is a feat in itself!"

"It's like we have a second secret base now," Wren looked around excitedly. "If we can make a dozen of these and distribute them…"

"That won't be necessary," Zhongli clarified. "The Undetectable Extension Charm is a spell that can be layered to enhance its effect. In other words, a person could grow their extended space by pouring some of their magic into the charm everyday through repeatedly casting over the existing one. Alternatively, two or more people can cast the spell together to further expand its area while conserving more energy."

Zhongli's gaze travelled to each of them, before settling on Siobhan. "Due to the current limits of my magic, this singular room is the most I can do in one casting. However, if we channel our magic together and equally share the brunt of the energy drain, we can expand this place at a faster rate. This is one significant way you can help us, Miss Siobhan. Are you willing to lend this place some of your magic?"

Siobhan nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

"Thank you," Zhongli smiled. "Let us work together to make this an adequate living space. It is a perfect opportunity to practice transfiguring objects to furniture, as well." As though to emphasise this point, Zhongli took out a small rock from his bag and, with a wave of his wand, transfigured it into a brown mat.

Even as she ooh-ed and clapped, a part of Siobhan's mind wondered why Zhongli carried rocks in his bag.

"A-Li, don't drain yourself again so quickly!" Wren scolded. She made no comment about the rock either, likely a testament to how desensitised they were to Zhongli being… himself.

"Do not worry, that was nowhere near as draining as the Extension charm. The mat is for a simple, if selfish purpose."

Again, Zhongli reached into his bag. This time, he pulled out an ornate chest with a design of a sea creature on its lock. It was a quaint size, perfect for holding lightly with two hands. It was also vaguely familiar.

"Isn't that the charmed mini-chest you bought at Marjin Alley?" asked Wren.

Zhongli hummed in affirmation, moving the mat to a corner and placing the mini-chest on it. "Indeed. This chest contains something I cannot afford to lose, no matter what, so please refrain from touching it."

"Of course," Siobhan nodded. "We can claim one corner of the room to ourselves and store other things here too! We could leave the second teapot here for safekeeping for now."

"Yes! I can store our potion flasks here!" Wren jumped with glee.

For a moment, the small delight of a new secret base chased away the gloom of the pasts months. Even Wren had a new spring to her step as they gathered their things and exited the teapot.

As they made to leave the Astronomy Tower, Zhongli paused for a moment to look at a suit of armour, which was nestled beside a pillar jutting from the astronomy wall.

"Zhongli?"

"Apologies, Miss Wren," Zhongli fell back into step with them, an arm coming to curl around the teapot's bulge within his bag. "Let us head to the kitchens. Though we could still catch the tail-end of lunch, I'd much prefer some place quieter than the Great Hall at the moment…"

They walked off into the direction of the kitchens.

And in the shadowed corner of the pillar, behind the suit of armour, Abraxas Malfoy contemplated this new and interesting piece of information on Tom Riddle-Yeh.