Meetings

October 4, 1992, 4:00 PM, Empty Classroom, Hogwarts

Adam Clarke

The brisk October air flowed gently through the open window of the unused classroom, carrying with it the crisp scent of fallen leaves and the promise of autumn. Yet, my attention was far from the changing season.

I stood at one end of the room, wand raised, in a practiced stance, while Daphne Greengrass, my ever-determined pupil, mirrored me at the opposite side. 

Sunlight filtered through the window, casting long, slanting beams of gold across the stone floor, creating a stark contrast to the shadows that clung to the corners of the room.

Daphne’s eyes bore into mine, her steely determination evident, and I could feel the weight of her challenge, even diminished as it was. The cold breeze teased the edges of my robes, but I barely noticed it. All my focus was on her, on the magical dance that was about to begin.

With a flick of her wand, Daphne initiated the duel. A streak of silver light shot toward me. It was fast and precise, but I was ready.

With a swift gesture, I deflected the spell, sending it harmlessly crashing into the wall, leaving behind a spray of sparks.

Daphne’s lips curled into a determined frown. She was relentless, launching one spell after another, doing her best to predict my movements and catch me in an off position. It was a battle of strategy and wits as much as it was a test of magical prowess.

The open window allowed the cold breeze to tease my senses, the cool air mingling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Had I not been so hyped up, I would have shivered.

The tension in the room rose as Daphne and I continued our duel. Her spells were getting quicker and more precise over the course of our practices, but I could still see the frustration building in her eyes.

She was not satisfied with her progress, it seemed, and that self-reproach was beginning to show in her movements. It was only a matter of time now before she slipped up.

“You can do better than that!” I said, slapping a spell right back at her and forcing her to swerve to the left. “Don’t think, just act!”

But my words of advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. In the next five exchanges, I counted four in which she was hesitating too long and hard.

By the sixth, I’d lost my patience and seized the opening she presented when her attention wavered. With a quick incantation, I cast a stinging spell that found its mark, striking her on the shoulder.

The sudden jolt of pain was evident on Daphne’s face. She let out a sharp hiss, and her wand slipped from her fingers as her hand instinctively reached for the injured shoulder. It was a moment of vulnerability, and I didn’t hesitate.

I advanced, my wand trained on her, and her eyes widened in realization as she scrambled to retrieve her fallen wand. Her fingers closed around it, but her body protested, the pain in her shoulder sending waves of discomfort.

Before she could regain her composure, my wand was inches from her face, the tip steady and glowing with a hint of red.

“You’ve lost, Greengrass.” I declared, my voice firm but not unkind. “Yield.”

She stared up at me in defiance, which then gave way to defeat. With a huff, she lowered her head, conceding the bout. She slowly rose as I took a step back to let her recuperate her bruised ego.

Daphne’s expression was a mix of anger and frustration, and she couldn’t hide her disappointment in herself. She knew that this was a mistake she shouldn’t have made, and her lips formed a thin line as she chastised herself for her lapse in concentration.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” She said, bashing herself some more before turning her anger towards me. “‘Don’t think, act’? What kind of advice is that?”

“The kind of advice you need to win.” I said, shrugging as I lost my patience a little. “You spend too much time second guessing— and maybe third guessing— your own movements. You have to commit to them, or you’ll always open yourself up to attack.”

Daphne huffed again, though she nodded. “Ugh. You’re right. Not to mention I let go of my wand.”

“You did.” I said, my tone softening. “But, that’s not an error, per se.”

“You’ve just gone over mistakes which leave me open for attack.”

“True.” I nodded in confirmation. “It does leave you open for attack— and obviously so— but that’s just something you’ll have to train yourself to endure. I can’t train you to overcome sudden pain; well… I could…”

Seeing my mischievous smile at the tail end of my statement, Daphne raised her hands and took a step back, as if to ward me off.

I laughed at that before shaking my head. “I’m only joking, but that’s why we’re doing this training; so that, in the heat of actual battle, you keep that wand in your hand, no matter what.”

“Battle?” Daphne’s eyebrows raised. “You sound like you’re training me for war. This is just a tournament, Adam.”

“Yes, and I want you to win.” I said, smirking. “When we’re done with this training, you’ll be as vicious as they come.”

“Vicious, huh?” She said, still not quite sure what to make of me. “Why do you want me to win?”

I paused for a moment, choosing my words carefully.

“I’ve always been serious about competitions.” I explained. “I agreed to teach you, and I don’t plan on being a poor teacher. You’re going to trounce the other schools.”

She smiled at that for a moment before shaking her head.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” Daphne said. “I’ll be in the lower division, so I think, even without you helping me, I’ll have a really good chance of winning. But it seems like you’re trying to teach me to fight against people much more powerful and knowledgeable than I am.”

“Is there any other way to teach someone?”

“Don’t do that.” Annoyance colored Daphne’s words. “Don’t deflect.”

I gave the girl a long stare, which made her shift in place in discomfort.

“You’re right.” I said, shaking my head. “There’s a bit more to it than that. The world is changing, Daphne. The signs are all there, and I can’t ignore them. There might be a war on the horizon.”

She pursed her lips and looked away. “I’ve heard something similar.”

“From your father, I suppose?”

She nodded. “You tend to overhear a few things when guests come over.”

“And you’re telling me this… why?” I asked. Daphne paused for a moment.

“I don’t know.” She said, though it seems that was directed at herself and not me. She turned her eyes towards mine, and I saw her soul thread shift in agitation. “I guess, since you’ve helped me, and I can’t let a debt go unpaid.”

“Ah, good.” I said, smirking. “Almost thought you’d say we’re friends or something.”

“As if.” She said, mirroring my smirk.

A few moments later, Daphne’s expression grew serious again. “You really think we’ll have to fight in a war?”

“I hope not. I really do.” I replied, my voice heavy. “Maybe I’m wrong, and maybe peaceful solutions will be reached before it reaches a boiling point, but…”

“But…?”

“Well, someone once said: ‘It’s better to be a warrior in a garden, than a gardener in a war.’”

She took a moment to absorb those words.

“I suppose that’s true…” Daphne said, before rubbing her shoulder and wincing.

“Does it still hurt?” I asked, concerned as I took a step forward, only to stop at the girl’s upraised hand.

“It’s fine.” Daphne shook her head and started gathering her things. “Nothing a little ointment won’t fix.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” I said, watching her put her pack awkwardly on her other shoulder— a movement she was likely not used to making. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Daphne said, shaking her head. “This is what I asked for. I want to win that tournament.”

A few moments passed as we stood in the now quiet classroom, the remnants of our practice duel fading into memory.

I expected her to nod and leave, as she’s usually done, but this time she cleared her throat, and spoke again.

“Adam, if there is a war…” She said, her tone sounding almost casual. “Where would your allegiances lie? What would you do?”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the blunt probe of her question.

“‘My allegiances’, is it?” I replied, amused. “Not being very subtle, are we? Shouldn’t you be playing this as a Slytherin would?”

“You’re not a Slytherin, though.” Daphne said, rolling her eyes. “If it’s one thing I’ve learned about you, so far, it’s that you respond best to direct questions.”

“True.” I said, humoring her as I pondered her inquiry. A few moments later, I responded. “I suppose you could say I have allegiance to my own family, first and foremost.”

Daphne’s brow furrowed slightly in surprise, her curiosity piqued. “Your own family, you say? I would have thought, being the adopted brother of the famous Boy Who Lived, you might be more of a… bleeding heart.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her assumption before raising a finger. “One; I’ve only recently joined the family.”

A second finger went up. “Two; though Harry and I share a bond of deep friendship, that doesn’t mean we share the same opinions in every matter, or even values. We’re individuals with our own beliefs and paths to follow.”

Daphne seemed taken aback, perhaps expecting me to be more idealistic given my family ties. “So, you’re saying you’re not a staunch defender of ‘the light’, then?”

“The light.” I had to stop myself from laughing at that statement, knowing the reaction would offend the girl in some way. “No wizard or witch worth their salt cares about light versus dark.”

“Then…?”

I shook my head, my expression serious. “I believe in doing what’s right, regardless of labels or allegiances, Daphne. This will sound like a cliche, but the world just isn’t black and white.”

She nodded slowly, absorbing my words.

It was clear that she had expected a different answer, one that aligned more closely with the heroics of the Boy Who Lived. She would soon learn that I was a different kind of player in this grand game; one driven by a sense of pragmatism and a determination to protect the people and things I cared about.

“I see.” She finally said, nodding. “You’ve given me much to think about, Adam.”

I raised an eyebrow, noting the strange shift in her behavior. Her last statement had been made with far more caution than I’d anticipated. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that someone put you up to this, Daphne.”

Daphne stiffened noticeably, and her lack of an immediate reply spoke volumes. Her soul thread began to jitter in a way that revealed her deep agitation.

Amused, I shook my head, realizing that I had likely touched upon a sensitive subject, and that Daphne would not budge on this.

“How about we meet again in a week for more training?” I said, though the smile didn’t quite reach my eyes. “We’ll leave it at that for now.”

Daphne nodded, her demeanor still guarded. “A week, it is, then. See you.”

“Until next time.”

As I watched Daphne walk away, a sense of intrigue and mild unease lingered in my mind. Her curiosity about my allegiances was revealed, but her own intentions remained shrouded in mystery. Had I made a mistake by being somewhat open about my beliefs and motivations?

I couldn’t say for sure.

People, in general, were not one to give out information freely, and Daphne’s guarded responses hinted at much the same. I wondered what she truly wanted from me and whether her inquiries were part of a larger plan.

Of course, I knew it wasn’t her plan. Daphne, while smart, was still a child of twelve. Likely, it was that she was receiving direction from her parents.

It made sense. The Greengrass family had given me an offer of adoption when my status as a prodigy was revealed. When it had happened, I assumed it was an attempt by a Slytherin family to subordinate my will in some way.

Could that still be her family’s aim? I wondered for a moment before shaking my head. It seems pretty ridiculous and far-fetched. Perhaps not all Slytherin-affiliated families are as bad as they were shown in canon?

I supposed I should put what I preached into practice. I snorted at my own hypocrisy, resolving to do better.

One thing was certain: our interactions had become more complex than simple practice duels.

The October breeze continued to drift through the open window, and I took a moment to experience the chill, this time. As I contemplated our encounter, I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets Daphne might be hiding and what role she might play in the uncertain times that lay ahead.

oooo

October 5, 1992, 2:00 AM, Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts

Helena Ravenclaw

The Astronomy Tower stood tall and silent in the inky darkness of the Hogwarts night. It was well past midnight, and the world below slumbered in a sea of dreams. Above, the half moon hung low in the sky, casting a gentle silver glow across the ancient stones of the tower.

Helena Ravenclaw, the ethereal and timeless ghost of Ravenclaw House, waited there. Her presence was almost translucent, a shimmering figure in the dim light, her gown flowing like mist around her form. Her piercing eyes were fixed on the horizon as she gazed out into the night.

The air was cool, though she could not truly feel it. Helena’s long hair, cascading like a waterfall of darkness, rustled gently in the breeze that whispered through the tower’s open arches. She had an otherworldly beauty, an air of grace and mystery that seemed to transcend the boundaries of time.

The Astronomy Tower had always been a place of solace and reflection, a sanctuary for those who sought the mysteries of the cosmos. And for Helena, it was a place of memories, a connection to the distant past when she had been a living, breathing witch.

As she stood there, bathed in the soft moonlight, she thought of the life she had once possessed. That life was gone now, but her spirit endured, tethered by guilt to the place that had once been her home.

Helena’s eyes flickered with a distant sadness, a longing for something she could never have again. She was a ghost, forever trapped between worlds, her existence a mockery of what it had once been.

The half moon continued its slow journey across the night sky, and Helena remained in her silent vigil. She had been waiting there for hours— even scared away a few annoying students looking for a quiet place to engage in less-than-advisable activities.

Still, she awaited his presence, the man whose actions had irrevocably altered her existence. It was a peculiar situation, for he was not physically a man. He inhabited the form of a twelve-year-old boy, and yet she saw through the facade, glimpsing the essence of his true self.

Time was a curious concept to a ghost, and the boy’s soul, reincarnated and bound to the mortal realm once more, had found its way to her.

She had observed him as he grew over the past year, his physical form changing while the core of his being remained relatively constant, only shifting to take in the good.

When she looked at him, she saw the echoes of a life long past. She saw a being taken from home. His soul had been a rough patchwork— almost like his resurrection had been botched in a way.

That was what had drawn the woman’s interest, at first. But now, their connection had become so much more than that. To her, he was both a child and a man; he was the embodiment of a complex history, an unfinished story.

Over time, she had observed how his soul had healed and grown, like a scar that faded but never truly disappeared. It was a remarkable transformation, one that filled her with both curiosity and a tinge of envy.

She remembered the moment when she had glimpsed his deepest, most guarded memory— meeting the memory of his mother in his own Abyss. 

It had been an intimate and profoundly emotional experience, a rare insight into the depths of his soul. She had seen the love, the warmth, and the profound connection he had shared with the woman who had brought him into the world.

In that moment, Helena just couldn’t help but feel envious of him; that he had the chance to remember, to hold onto those precious memories, to have received some form of closure in his un-life. It was something she had never known, for her own life had been marked by tragedy and a cruel twist of fate.

She had never had the opportunity to say goodbye to her own mother, to share a final moment of connection and love. The pain of that loss, the absence of closure, had haunted her for centuries. Her existence as a ghost was a constant reminder of the things she could never have, the moments she had been robbed of.

Her negative emotions nearly getting the better of her, she began to sing. Her voice, like a wistful breeze, filled the air. The notes were mournful yet beautiful, a lament for the life she had lost and the memories that haunted her. It was a song of longing, of a soul trapped between worlds, seeking solace in the night.

“In shadows deep, I silently weep,
A soul adrift, in memories steeped.
The world of the living, I can’t hold,
My heart aches with stories left untold.

My heart’s a phantom, in twilight’s haze,
A restless spirit, lost in a maze.
I long to touch what I cannot feel,
To know once more what it’s like to heal.

The moonlight’s kiss, a fleeting grace,
I yearn to touch a living face.
But here I stand, in shadows cast,
A ghostly figure of the past.

I—”

She stopped all of a sudden as a subtle warmth coursed through Helena’s ethereal form, a sensation that was both foreign and most welcome. She could feel a gentle shift, as if a part of her had been touched by the faintest caress of life. Her cheeks, once pallid, now bore a faint flush, and her dark hair transformed into a warm shade of brown. 

The spark of vitality had returned to her, and with it came an immediate change in her demeanor. Helena’s once distant and melancholic gaze shifted, and her now-light brown eyes held a warmth that had been absent before. She felt a tinge of joy, a fleeting moment of being closer to the world of the living.

Turning her gaze toward the entrance of the Astronomy Tower, she saw him there.

It was the boy who had been occupying her thoughts for far longer than she dared to admit to herself. She smiled, a ghostly and ephemeral expression, but one filled with genuine fondness.

“You’re late.” She said, a playful glint in her now-light brown eyes.

Adam smiled.

“Had to be careful sneaking out.” He admitted, his voice a little more hushed than she was used to. “With more students out and about and those posted guards, it’s not as easy as it used to be. I already witnessed a couple getting caught out of bounds. What were you singing?”

Helena turned her gaze back to the moonlit landscape beyond to hide her mild embarrassment. “How much did you hear?”

Adam considered her words for a moment.

“I caught a bit of it, though not the full song.” He admitted with a soft smile. “You have a beautiful singing voice, you know.”

A flicker of something akin to emotion passed through Helena’s spectral form as she received Adam’s compliment. Her voice carried a soft note of gratitude as she responded. “Thank you, Zero.”

With a sigh that seemed to stir the very air around her, she spoke.

“The song…” She began, her gaze returning to the half moon. “It’s about longing, about being separated from the world of the living. It’s a lament for the life I once had and the things I can never experience again.”

Her voice, once hauntingly forlorn, now held a touch of melancholic resignation.

“Helena…” Adam began softly, but she shook her head before he could say more.

“No!” Turning toward him, her ethereal presence illuminated by the half moon’s gentle light, she spoke with a deep sorrow in her voice. “Someone like me doesn’t deserve a second chance, not after all the horrible things I’ve done.”

Adam was silent for a long moment, his gaze unwavering as he closed the distance between them.

“Don’t say that.” He said, both anger and compassion in his voice. “You know that’s not true, Helena.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It isn’t.” Adam insisted, his mismatched eyes almost glowing with emotion. “You’ve already done so much to help me, and who knows how many times you’ve helped the students over the course of the last nine hundred years. You’ve earned your second chance a thousand times over.”

Helena trembled at his words.

“Do you hear me?”

“I—” Helena tried, but she could not form the words, so swept up in her emotions she was.

Adam reached out to her, his fingers brushing her spectral, and yet somewhat solid cheek. When his hand withdrew, it was wet, and he regarded it with a sense of amazement.

“Helena… You’re crying.” He said, his voice a whisper in the still night. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No!” Helena, overcome by a surge of emotions, threw her ethereal arms around Adam and held onto him tightly. It was an embrace that transcended the boundaries of the living and the departed, a deep and almost visceral connection between them.

Her voice, filled with a mixture of joy and relief, whispered softly in his ear.

“You’re not making me upset.” She confessed. “I’m just… so happy.”

“Happy?” Adam, though slightly awkward at first, returned the hug, his arms encircling her spectral form. It seemed to make Helena even more ecstatic. “Good— that’s good. I’m glad.”

In that private moment, as they clung to each other on the Astronomy Tower, Helena secretly hoped that the hug would never end.

“Are you going to let go?” He said after a few moments.

“No.”

“Oh… All right.”

Helena blurted out a laugh. He could be so odd, sometimes.