An Unexpected Visitor

October 31, 1992 6:00 PM, Great Hall, Hogwarts

Adam Clarke

The medical tent was a temporary haven from the noise and excitement of the tournament. As I sat on one of the cots, I could hear the distant cheers and roars of the crowd outside, a constant reminder of the ongoing matches. The atmosphere was a mix of tension and relief as injured contestants received treatment.

I glanced over at Hien, who wore a discontented expression. His defeat still lingered in the air, and I could sense his frustration. Despite my own triumph, I couldn’t help but empathize with the disappointment that comes with losing, especially on such a grand stage.

“That was a pretty rough match, you know.” I ventured, trying to strike up a conversation. “I didn’t expect it.”

Hien shot me a sidelong glance, his eyes reflecting a mixture of annoyance and resignation. “I had it under control until I let my guard down.”

I shook my head. “You didn’t let your guard down. In fact, you almost had me several times.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed on the entrance of the tent. He stayed quiet as time passed, and a few more people entered the tent, some looking inordinately pleased, while their counterparts were sour. 

Victory was fleeting, I thought and the pursuit of excellence demanded constant vigilance.

Defeat is the great teacher.

“Then how did you win?” Hien finally ventured, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I considered his words for a moment, finding no harm in letting him know just what he had done wrong.

“Your left side.” I said. “I noticed you cast poorly from your left side; well, not poorly, but there was an opening.”

Hien looked at me, surprise and curiosity in his eyes. “Left side, huh?”

“Yeah.” I confirmed, nodding. “It was a split-second thing, but in duels, split seconds can make all the difference. You were fantastic, though. I had to push myself to keep up.”

He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit. His expression remained guarded, but I could see a glimmer of pride returning to it.

A small consolation, to be sure, but he had done very well, in my opinion.

Duels were a test of skill, but they were also a learning experience, and I hoped Hien would take this match as an opportunity to refine his techniques.

Poppy Pomfrey bustled into the tent, her stern expression softening as she approached. “I see you’ve managed to get yourself into another skirmish, Mr. C— Black. Honestly, for one outside of Gryffindor, you have a strange penchant for trouble.”

I offered a sheepish smile. “What can I say, Madam Pomfrey? I like to live dangerously.”

She tutted disapprovingly but began her work. As she began examining the minor injuries sustained during the duel, another medic moved to attend to Hien.

“You can still call me Clarke if you wish, Madam Pomfrey.” I added, trying to defuse some of the tension I felt.

She huffed. “Well, Mr. Clarke, let’s see what trouble you’ve brought upon yourself this time.”

Her gaze bore into me as she meticulously listed my injuries. Each word seemed to carry a weighty implication of my recklessness. “A severe bite on your ankle, narrowly avoiding the tendons. Deep scratches on your back. Bruised ribs. And a bruised left arm. Honestly, Mr. Clarke, you’d think you’d be more careful after the things you’ve been through.”

The sternness of her expression contrasted with my calm demeanor, and the tension in the air rose again. I absorbed the litany of injuries without flinching, maintaining a stoic composure.

“What I’ve been through is exactly why I need to push myself.” I replied somberly, my gaze meeting hers with a quiet determination.

Pomfrey shook her head, a mixture of frustration and concern etched on her features.

“One day, you’re going to take on too much.” She muttered, a stern prediction that lingered in the air like an unspoken warning.

I looked down pensively as she worked her healing charms, and a soothing warmth briefly enveloped me, dulling much of the pain. I offered a grateful nod in her direction, not meeting her eyes. “Thank you.”

Her response was a smirk, and she reached for a potion with an unmistakably unpleasant aroma. Holding it in front of me, she remarked. “We’ll see if you thank me after drinking this.”

I looked at the potion for a moment before finally looking at her. The dubious expression on her face didn’t inspire confidence, but I took the foul smelling concoction without protest, bracing myself for the taste.

I stared at it for another second. “Down the hatch.”

Downing the potion, I grimaced at its bitter taste. Madam Pomfrey observed my reaction with a knowing look.

“It’s not a delicacy, Mr. Clarke, but it will help speed up your recovery.” She assured me.

As the effects of the potion began to work their magic, I couldn’t help but reflect on the tournament. The cheers of the crowd, the thrill of the duel, and the realization that I was part of something much larger than Hogwarts alone— all of it left me with a sense of accomplishment.

“I’ll be back with another potion shortly.” Madam Pomfrey instructed.

I nodded, offering my gratitude, and she departed to retrieve the additional potion, leaving me in the company of Hien, once again.

He looked pensive for a moment as he turned his attention to me.

“Those chains of yours.” He began. “They were unlike anything I’ve ever seen. What are they for?”

Straight to the point, huh? I said, and figured it wouldn’t hurt to say a few things. I wouldn’t have to fight him again, that was for sure. True, he might report to his fellow classmates, but it’s not like I was going to tell him anything groundbreaking.

“They’re a form of magical construct.” I explained, leaning back on the cot as I took a breath, ordering my thoughts. “I developed them for high-speed defense and attack. It’s a spell I created myself, actually.”

“High speed combat.” Hien nodded, impressed. “That’s incredible. It brings to mind a legend I read about in western mundane mythology— the god of death, chained by a mortal. I forget the name.”

I smiled a little. “Sisyphus. You’re talking about when Sisyphus tricked Thanatos, the god of death, to use the chains on himself. With death bound under the chains, no one would perish any longer, and this caused an uproar among the gods.”

“Hai.” Hien said, slapping the side of his fist against his palm in recognition. “That is the one, yes.”

“Though I wouldn’t be so arrogant to say I was cheating death with my chains.” I made sure to quickly add, bemusement in my expression.

“Have you not?” Hien said, gesturing as he spoke, though he grimaced as he seemed to hurt himself doing it. Gathering himself, he continued. “Had there not been wizards to catch us, a fall from such a height would have meant our deaths.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” I rejected his thoughts again, shaking my head. “But I take your meaning.”

He wasn’t wrong. In a sense, the idea for my chains had been based on mythological, platonic ideas. Restraining and combating the divine, I thought, was a lofty, worthy ideal to strive towards. Of course, I had also drawn the idea from different characters I had seen in various stories in my previous life, but there was no real way to explain that to someone in this world.

No real need to overcomplicate things. I thought, giving my opponent a smile. “It’s all about adapting magic to suit your needs, drawing inspiration from various sources.”

Pomfrey returned with a familiar vial; I’d taken this before— it was a potion designed to help me absorb nutrients at a faster rate, thus speeding up the recovery process.

She arched an eyebrow as she handed the vials to both me and Hien. “I see you recognize what this is, Mr. Clarke. Mr. Retsu, this is a nutrient potion, designed to aid you in your recovery. Drink up.”

I took the vial, nodding in acknowledgment. Without hesitation, I uncorked it and downed the contents, feeling a surge of both revulsion revitalization as the potion took effect. Hien followed suit, mirroring my expression.

After I handed her the empty vial back, Hien and I exchanged glances.

“I hate potions.” I muttered, trying to get the taste out of my mouth.

“I wouldn’t let Professor Snape hear you say that, Mr. Clarke.” Pomfrey said with a small smile, clearly amused. She gestured towards the exit. “You both may go, but do be careful not to worsen your recovering injuries any further, would you?”

“Yes, Madam.”

“Thanks, Madam Pomfrey.” I also replied, offering a polite nod before Hien and I moved to exit the tent.

I turned to Hien. “Well, time to go. It was fun fighting against you. I learned a lot.”

“The pleasure was mine.” Hien nodded appreciatively. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

I watched him go for a while. “Maybe they will…”

The bustling atmosphere of the tournament surrounded me as I took a few aimless steps forward. The vibrant mix of wizards and witches from various nations created a lively scene, but my mind was elsewhere, caught in the echoes of the recent duel.

Hien’s words about my chains lingered in my thoughts.

Why had I picked chains in the first place? I could have chosen various constructs to serve the purpose of high-speed defense and attack. As I pondered this, my mind delved into the reasoning behind my decision.

Was I going about it the wrong way?

Chains, in their symbolism, represented more than just a tool of restraint, capture and oppression. They were a manifestation of adaptability. Unlike rigid barriers, chains could flex and mold themselves around different situations.

The legend Hien referred to, that of Sisyphus and his cleverness in his dealings with Thanatos, added a layer of mythic resonance to my magical choice, but it was not the true reason I had chosen them.

I could have used a whip as the baseline, and the spell would have likely functioned just as well. However, my mind had gravitated to chains almost instinctively, and I was beginning to understand why.

A chain’s deepest symbolism. I thought. Infinite interconnectivity.

Chains, with their links intertwining and interlocking, represented a network of relationships, a series of connections that extended beyond the physical into the astral. It was a visual metaphor for the intricate ties that bound individuals, ideas, and the very essence of life itself.

And death. I thought, shivering at the mere thought of the void energy coursing through me.

In that moment of reflection, I realized that my choice went beyond mere functionality, instead carrying a philosophical weight which bore on the very tapestry of existence.

The chains became a reminder that, in the grand dance of life, every action, every spell, and every choice had repercussions that reverberated through the unseen threads of destiny.

Or perhaps I was destined to create them in the first place?

Divine sunderer… The words echoed again, and I did not flinch from them this time, so perturbed I was by the realization. I shook my head.

It didn’t make sense. The threads of destiny were something Grindelwald believed in, but the old man had to be wrong. Whispers of a tormented man’s mind.

And yet I couldn’t shake off the feeling that he might be right…

“Adam!” Sirius called out, startling me out of my reverie.

I turned to the man, seeing his grin fade as he approached. “That’s not the face of someone who just won. You all right, kid?”

Shaking my head, I waved Sirius’ concerns away. “Just a little lost in thought. It’s nothing.”

“Thinking about the dueling advice I gave you?”

“What?” I said, surprise and bewilderment coloring my tone for a moment before the memories came flooding back, banishing my previous thoughts away— at least for the moment. “No, but your advice was good. I still think that having a single, multipurpose spell is the way to go, but I’ve also grown to understand that the lack of variety in my spellcasting is not something I can simply ignore.”

“Well, yes. That’s good.” Sirius nodded as he scratched his chin in curiosity. “What were you thinking about, then?”

“Ah…” I said, scratching the back of my head as I looked away. “It’s nothing, really.”

Sirius eyed me for a moment, clearly reluctant to drop the subject, but he eventually nodded. “Alright, let’s change gears, then. Your friends are waiting for you. We’ve got good seats for the Quidditch match.”

I nodded. The prospect of watching the match did help alleviate some of my internal turmoil. It would be nice to have something to focus on and let my mind rest.

Together, we continued through the bustling crowd toward the seats where Tony, Su, and the others were eagerly anticipating the upcoming events.

As Sirius and I strolled towards the Quidditch seats, the vibrant array of snack stalls lining the path caught our attention.

The tempting aroma of magical treats wafted through the air, making our mouths water. Sirius stopped, suggesting we grab some snacks for the group.

And so we did.

Stopping by a particularly enticing stall, we perused the magical snacks on display. I remembered what everyone preferred— a point of pride for me. I picked up a bag of butterbeer flavored popcorn for myself, curious about the taste. Sirius, with his characteristic grin, opted for Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, clearly in the mood for a surprise; he grabbed a few more products, though I did not recognize them.

“You know you’re probably going to have a snot flavored one in there, right?”

“Maybe… Or maybe, one with steak flavor!” Sirius said. “Have you considered that?”

For Tony and Su, I selected a bag of chocolate frogs and Quaffle-shaped chocolate truffles, respectively. 

For Ron, I chose a pack of Fizzing Whizzbees, and for Hermione, I got some Liquorice Wands. As we continued our journey to the seats, hands filled with a delightful assortment of treats, the anticipation for the Quidditch match heightened.

I approached my friends, snacks in hand, and their faces lit up as I joined the gathering.

“Look who decided to join the party!” Tony exclaimed, clapping me on the back.

“Hey, mate.” Ron said, and I exchanged greetings with the group. “Ready for the match?”

“Absolutely.” I replied, nodding with a smile. “And, I come bearing gifts!”

I presented the assorted wizarding snacks.

“Merlin’s beard, Adam, you’re a lifesaver.” Ron said, happily reaching for the lot.

“Don’t be greedy!” Tony said, and Ron stopped, smiling sheepishly. I shook my head and handed the bag to Hermione, knowing she would distribute everything accordingly.

“I’m not your assistant!” Hermione protested, even as she started sorting through the contents with a calculating expression.

“Thanks, Hermione.” I said, fighting the urge to grin.

She’d punch me if she saw.

“Now, let’s get back to our seats and enjoy the show.” We made our way to the stands, munching on our snacks, chatting, and laughing, eager for the Quidditch match about to unfold.

“Think Harry will win?” Su asked as we started up the stairs.

“Everyone’s been training really hard, especially Harry.” Ron affirmed, nodding confidently. “I helped develop their routines— you’re going to be surprised by this match.”

“Really?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “What kind of training did you put them through? Advanced drills?”

“Well, you see…” Ron delved into the intricacies of the team’s drills and conditioning, his enthusiasm evident.

I tried my best to focus on his explanation, but my attention wavered when a passing witch caught my eye. She had a distinct magical sheen enveloping her facial features, and as our eyes locked, she winked mischievously before continuing on her way, brushing up against me only very lightly.

The unusual encounter left me with a sense of unease, the sound of the hustle and bustle around drowned out by my own thoughts.

The magical film on the witch’s face indicated the use of a Glamour Charm, likely an attempt to blend into the crowd without drawing attention.

My mind raced with questions. Who was she, and why would someone be using such a disguise? My first thought leaned towards the possibility of an undercover Auror, but the logic quickly crumbled. They already had a heavy presence here.

Could it be Tonks trying to mess with me? I wondered, but I gave a mental shake of the head.

Tonks, with her Metamorphmagus abilities, wouldn’t need glamours for disguise. Moreover, Sirius had already mentioned that Tonks was part of the group of Aurors patrolling the school on brooms from above.

Despite my rationalizations, the nagging feeling persisted.

It could still be a random Auror or an agent from any wizarding government. I reasoned, attempting to dismiss the unease even as I turned to follow the mysterious woman.

Something about her soul thread felt strangely familiar, though I couldn’t pinpoint why.

The need for certainty overpowered my want to rest, gnawing at my psyche.

“Adam?” Sirius’ voice cut through my thoughts from behind. “Where are you going?”

I cast a quick glance at him.

“I think I dropped something a bit ago, I’m going to try and find it— won’t be long.” The excuse left my lips easily, and I hurried after the disguised woman, determined to unravel the mystery.

I rushed down the stairs, weaving through the crowd that had gathered at the base of the tower. The sea of people seemed to close in around me, creating an obstacle course that impeded my progress.

“Damn it.” Curses slipped from my lips as I struggled to regain sight of the mysterious woman.

The tension I felt was considerable, but my growing intrigue and curiosity fueled my determination. I scanned the faces around me, searching for any trace of the concealed figure. The vivid colors of magical robes blurred into a kaleidoscope of movement, making it challenging to pick out any specific detail.

My eyes darted from one person to another, a bead of sweat forming on my brow as I navigated through the dense crowd. The chatter and excitement of the Quidditch enthusiasts provided a constant buzz in the background, adding to the challenge of isolating any individual in the tumult.

I finally reached the open area, the base of the tower, where the crowd was thickest. People laughed, talked, and jostled, creating a chaotic backdrop. Frustration gnawed at me; she had vanished, swallowed by the sea of faces.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and began to comb through the crowd methodically. My eyes scanned for any sign of the woman, any subtle hint that might reveal her true identity.

There!

The elusive figure came into view once more, and I quickened my pace, determined to catch up. As I closed the distance, a surge of anticipation coursed through me. I reached out, grabbing her shoulder with a firm grip.

To my surprise and mild embarrassment, she turned around, revealing the normal looking face of a witch, instead of the film of magic denoting a Glamor Charm which I had expected.

“Excuse me.” I offered a hurried apology. “I thought you were someone else.”

The witch regarded me with a mix of amusement and concern, her eyes narrowing inquisitively.

“Are you lost?” She asked, her tone a blend of curiosity and genuine consideration. Her gaze flickered across my features, and she couldn’t help but notice the oddity of my mismatched eyes.

Shaking my head, I reassured her that I wasn’t lost. “No, no. Just thought you were someone else.”

Walking away, I chose a random spot to resume my search for the elusive woman, but there was no sign of her. She had disappeared into the crowd, far beyond my reach.

Who is she? I thought to myself. Why had she intentionally drawn my attention?

The distant voice of the Quidditch announcer reached my ears, a stark reminder that I was running late for the highly anticipated match. I shrugged off the odd encounter, acknowledging that I might never uncover the answers.

For all I know, this could have been just an Auror or government agent in disguise… Oh, well.

With a sense of resignation, I turned back towards the Quidditch pitch, weaving through the lively crowd.

The mysterious witch, hidden from my view, allowed a subtle smile to grace her features as she observed my departure. Her presence, concealed by the nooks and crannies of the towering structures, was but a mere whisper in the bustling atmosphere of the Quidditch match.

“That was fun.” She muttered to herself in a distinctly Russian accent, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. “He almost caught me there if it weren’t for that hasty Switching Spell…”

Unbeknownst to me, the enigmatic figure reveled in the thrill of the chase, her magic weaving through the air with practiced finesse. She vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the echoes of her concealed presence.

She had a job to do. The fun would come later.

It always did.