The Third Trial

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/45847018.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: Gen
Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy (Video Game)
Relationship: Eleazar Fig & Reader, Aesop Sharp & Reader
Character: Reader, Eleazar Fig, Aesop Sharp, Niamh Fitzgerald, Phineas Nigellus
Black, Garreth Weasley, Matilda Weasley, Ominis Gaunt, Chiyo
Kogawa, Scrope (Hogwarts Legcy), Percival Rackham, Charles
Rookwood, San Bakar
Additional Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear
of Death
Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Trials Must be Completed Alone
Stats: Published: 2023-03-18 Completed: 2023-03-24 Words: 16,966
Chapters: 7/7

The Third Trial

by TallSpecter

Summary

In the distance, you hear more fighting and screaming, the helpless villagers being
slaughtered as you continue to avoid detection. You fight the sting of tears in your eyes,
knowing that there is nothing you can do to help them.
In a way, this is worse than anything else you've encountered so far.

The Third Trial is both the easiest and scariest trial you have faced thus far.
 The Next Trial is Fairly Nearby
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Entering the Map Chamber without a summon from Professor Fig felt wrong. You had waited
quite some time to hear from your mentor regarding the third trial, as he usually takes the time to
check in on the portraits and summon you when there is news.

While you initially offered to check in on the Keepers yourself when Professor Rackham first
showed himself in the Map Chamber, Professor Fig insisted that he will take the responsibility. His
reasoning was partially because you had a lot to do as a new fifth-year, but also because he wanted
to ensure he was present for any and all instruction from the Keepers. You naturally put your trust
in the man, but you have grown restless as the snow begins to fall more everyday.

Weeks have come and gone, and with winter break approaching you decided you should take the
time and check in on the portraits yourself. As soon as you descended the spiral staircase and
opened the impressive doors to the Map Chamber, you saw Professor Fitzgerald beckoning you
closer, a small smile on her face as she watched you quickly scurry over to her massive portrait.

“Welcome back.” She greeted, giving you the time to make it all the way to her portrait before
speaking once more.

“Hello, Professor, I have news. The goblins are looking for something: another ‘repository’.
They’ve built drills to help with their search.” You informed her. Typically this was something that
you would discuss first with Professor Fig, but he was unusually unavailable at the moment.

Professor Fig has been a bit off since the last trial. In fact, you haven’t really seen or heard from the
man since that night. You made sure to give Professor Fig a couple of days before approaching
him again, hoping to somehow discuss your concerns from the argument you overheard between
him and Professor Sharp. However, when you went to his office after classes were out, Professor
Fig was nowhere to be found.

You were informed later that night when a letter from the man was delivered that he had once
again been summoned to the Ministry. Apparently, there were still inquiries surrounding the
dragon attack and Mr. Osric’s death. Professor Fig assured you in the letter it was just a routine
follow up for these types of incidents, and simply instructed you to continue your studies in his
absence. While it was odd for him to inform you after he had already left, you decided to shake it
off and wait to speak to Professor Fig once he returned.

Unfortunately, once he returned things were no better. You would go to his classroom to find it
empty, the portraits in his office being rather unhelpful when you ask if they saw the man that day.
Then there were the times you did get to his office while he was there, but the door would be
locked and he would ask you to return later. It only took you ‘returning later’ a couple of days in a
row to either find the door still locked or the man missing entirely to get the message.

Either he was busy working on something on his own, or he was avoiding you due to Professor
Sharp’s confrontation. Either way, it only took you two weeks of failing to meet Professor Fig
before you decided to give him his space. Now it has been a little over a month and you still
haven’t seen him, the dull pain of abandonment settling into your gut.

To make matters worse, Professor Sharp seemed to also be on edge lately. While he didn’t retreat
into his quarters like Professor Fig, he seemed far more irritable as time went on.

You could hear him interrogating Garreth about missing potion ingredients after class one day, not
letting up on the boy until Garreth mentioned getting his Aunt involved. His mood only soured
from there, and at one point he even turned his suspicions onto you. You understand his reasoning
since you have been pinned as a magnet for trouble by the man, but even after explaining you have
plenty of ingredients to brew your own potions he only seemed more upset. You don't even know
what boomslang skin is!

Now you are being avoided by one Professor while under the suspicious eye of the other.

You are snapped out of your musings when Professor Fitzgerald let out a troubled sigh in response
to your statement.

“Most troubling.” She gravely stated, looking deep in thought herself.

“Professor, are these repositories like the broken container I found at Rookwood Castle?” You ask,
interrupting her silence.

“They are. I fear we have no time to lose.” She responds, rushing to confirm your query before
quickly moving on. “Have a look at the map.”

You have to fight yourself to not roll your eyes at the redirection. It seems she is keeping the
tradition of both giving you the bare minimum when it comes to information, as well as pushing
you to rush through the trials like the Keepers before her. You suppose it isn’t any of their faults. It
is Ranrok who caused the rush for you to master ancient magic.

You look back at the map behind you, looking for any new highlighted structures or symbols.
After a moment of confusion, you notice that the tallest tower on the outline of Hogwarts is
glowing brilliantly against the dark blue background. You look back at Professor Fitzgerald in
confusion, causing the former Headmistress to smile in amusement.

“Fortunately the next trial is fairly nearby.” She comments, her voice failing to hide how
humorous she found the situation.

“It’s Hogwarts? But…where?” You wonder aloud.

“As you know, I was Headmistress in my time. My portrait hangs in the Headmaster’s office, like
the predecessors before me and those who followed after. In fact, I witnessed Professor Black learn
of your arrival.” She informed you, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she thought about the
snobbish headmaster learning of the late addition to the school.

“Wait, is the next trial in the Headmaster’s office?” You ask, fearful that you already know the
answer. Professor Fitzgerald grimaces slightly before answering.

“It is. I had hoped that when the time came for one to complete these trials, the occupant of the
office would be of help to us.” She paused as she seemed to carefully consider what she is willing
to divulge to a student.

“Unfortunately, this headmaster seems wildly unconcerned with anything but himself. You’ll need
to access the office while he’s away.” She finishes, her face twisted in disdain as she thinks of the
man.

If that was Professor Fitzgerald pulling her punches, you would pay thousands of galleons to hear
her unfiltered opinion of the man.
 “I understand…very well. I’ll find some way to get in.” You reply, already thinking about how
you would manage to complete this next trial without getting expelled.

“Good. I shall meet you in my portrait there. Until then.” The former Headmistress states, smiling
politely at you before walking off. The other Keepers seem to have nothing to add, only offering
their own sympathetic smiles in regard to the challenge ahead. You bid the other Professors
farewell before starting the long walk up the stairs.

Chapter End Notes

This fic is already turning out to be a long one! I have only written to the end of the
third trial and the word count it already almost as high as the entire fic for the second.

The next two chapters are quite long, hopefully they will be done by later tonight or
tomorrow!
 Brewing Unsanctioned Potions
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Before you realize it, your feet have led you to Professor Fig’s office. You couldn’t hear anything
inside, but when you tried to enter you were pleased to find the door was unlocked. You softly
knock upon entry, if Professor Fig was inside you would hate to accidentally scare the man.

“Come in.” He mumbled from deeper within the office, sounding distracted.

You look around the office as you enter, always surprised by the enormous piles of books lining
the walls on the floor. It's a wonder Professor Fig was sorted into Gryffindor rather than
Ravenclaw, as even Samantha Dale doesn’t have enough books to compete with the man.
However, his willingness to aid you in the fight against Ranrok does display the classic Gryffindor
bravery you would expect, so you assume that the sorting hat must’ve been onto something.

It was a rather overcast day, so the giant fireplace in the back of the room was illuminating the
space. You could hear the fire crackling, flames reaching high enough you were worried about the
potential fire hazard when looking at the books surrounding the area. There were two large
armchairs in front of the fire, the one angled towards you was full of books, and over the back of
the other you could just see the top of Professor Fig’s head. You walked to your usual spot in front
of his desk before addressing the man.

“Excuse me, Professor, but I have news from the Keepers. They have shown me the location of the
next trial.” You start, the man moving to stand at the sound of your voice. He looked rather tired,
dark circles under his eyes making them look unusually dull rather than their usual brilliant blue.
He made his way over to his desk to stand opposite of you.

You were worried that your mentor would be upset at the intrusion, remembering how he had been
avoiding you before you saw him gently smile at you. You were put at ease, feeling more
comfortable to begin the discussion on what you need to do next.

“Has something changed? Last we spoke to the Keepers they seemed hesitant to continue for the
time being.” He questioned. Last you both spoke to the keepers was practically the last you and the
Professor spoke as well. You fight the bitter feeling of the man practically abandoning you in favor
of continuing the cordial conversation with your mentor.

“Lodgok and I have learned that the goblins are searching for another repository, just like the one
we saw at Rookwood castle. I also discovered that they’re building massive drills to help in their
search. Professor Fitzgerald seems very concerned.” You summarize, relieved that Professor Fig is
paying careful attention as you speak.

“I see. Ranrok clearly knows even more than we suspected.” Profesor Fig responds. You suddenly
remember your conversation with Lodgok, knowing there is one more thing to add to your
summary to the Professor.

“And sir…there is something else. Lodgok knew Miriam.” You tentatively add.

“He knew Miriam?” Professor Fig quickly asked. He looked caught off guard, his eyes a bit wide
with shock as he took a step forward, as if the distance is what led to him mishearing you.

“Yes sir. They encountered each other at Rookwood Castle. She was doing research. That’s where
she found the container with the Portkey. He liked her so much that he let her leave with it, despite
orders from Ranrok.” You say, carefully watching the man before you. He was extremely focused,
listening to any information regarding Miriam. As you mentioned Lodgok liking her and letting her
leave with the portkey, Professor Fig had a small smile on his face.

“I don’t know what to say. She could win over almost anyone.” He softly added, his voice
sounding melancholy as he thought of his late wife.

While you were hesitant to ask your mentor himself, your friends informed you she passed around
spring of this year, during what would’ve been your fourth year at Hogwarts had you been a
traditional student. You feel sympathy for the man, suddenly realizing this will be his first winter
without her.

Professor Fig seems to snap out of whatever memory he was in, refocusing on you before clearing
his throat.

“I want to hear more of this, and in fact, I’d like to speak with Lodgok directly. But we’ve no time
now. Where is the next trial?”

“Believe it or not, it’s in the Headmasters office.” You inform the man, not even trying to hide how
distraught you were over its location.

“Incredible.” Professor Fig utters, taking the news just as well as you when you first learned of its
location. You could see he was already thinking about how difficult getting access to the trial will
be. “Very well. You’ll need the password to get past the stone gargoyle. The Headmaster’s house-
elf will know it.”

Professor Fig must see the hesitation on your face when it comes to questioning the house-elf, one
that you have barely even seen around Hogwarts, so he quickly continues.

“Scrope had been a house-elf for the Black family for his entire life. As he is fiercely loyal to the
Headmaster, you will need quite the disguise. Luckily I have just the thing, a Polyjuice Potion.
You’ll look and sound just like Professor Black.” Professor Fig states as he turns to search in one
the trunks behind his desk. You watch as he moves piles of books before a question works its way
out of you.

“Wait, doesn’t Polyjuice Potion require a bit of the person you want to change into? I thought it
also takes ages to brew?” You ask, confusion settling in even more as Professor Fig continues his
digging around.

“It does.” He simply replies, his voice betraying his slight amusement to your clearly confused
tone.

“So…how do you already have Polyjuice Potion to change into Professor Black?” You ask,
growing more suspicious of the man.

“How do you know so much about a potion they don’t teach about at Hogwarts? Professor Sharp
would never add it to his curriculum. You haven’t been sneaking into the restricted section of the
library again, have you?” Professor Fig quips instead of answering, his voice teasing as you
scramble for something to respond with.

Professor Fig finally turns around, a large glass bottle of dark liquid in his hand as he returns to his
desk. He lightly chuckles at your expression before cutting you loose from his own line of
questioning.
“One never knows when such a thing may come in handy. Let’s just say I felt the need to be
prepared for anything after my second fruitless trip to the Ministry on Professor Black’s behalf.”
Professor Fig says, sliding the bottle on the table towards you.

“Wait, does this explain why you have been so busy lately?” You press, Professor Fig looking
slightly guilty as he considers your question.

“Well, for the most part. Brewing Polyjuice Potion takes around a month to prepare and brew, and
I have had…other things occupying my mind while we waited for the third trial to present itself.”
He responds, not moving to elaborate on what those ‘other things’ are.

You are sure his confrontation with Professor Sharp is what he is alluding to, and if you don’t want
to have an uncomfortable conversation about the argument, it would be best to not press Professor
Fig for now. For the moment you are just relieved he wasn’t avoiding you as he was, for the most
part, brewing a highly controversial potion in secret.

“Wait, you wouldn’t happen to be the reason Professor Sharp has been interrogating the entire
school regarding stolen potion ingredients, are you?” You ask, Professor Fig clearly fighting a
laugh at the question.

He doesn’t even look remorseful as he nods his head in confirmation, perhaps taking too much joy
in the idea that Professor Sharp is so troubled by the theft. Well, that is one mystery solved, as well
as a reminder to stay on Professor Fig’s good side. He has a mischievous streak you would almost
find amusing if it weren’t at the expense of every student in potions class.

“Now, time is of the essence. Drink up and I shall explain more.” Professor Fig instructed, his
lighter tone snapping you back to the matter at hand.

You move to lift the potion off the table, uncorking it carefully before holding the bottle up to your
nose to sniff. It didn’t smell too offensive, and you briefly think it even smells of the expensive
cologne the Headmaster is known to wear. You cautiously move the bottle to take a sip before
Professor Fig interrupts you.

“Best try to drink as much as you can, it won’t be pleasant.” He comments. You briefly wonder if
it will be as bad as the potion Professor Sharp gave you earlier in the year, but you remember the
vile taste and pain of your ribs snapping into place, quickly deciding nothing could be worse than
that.

You take a large swig of the potion, the flavor not being too unpleasant. You almost thought
Professor Fig was underestimating your tolerance for potions when the pain hit you. You slammed
the potion bottle down on his desk with more force than necessary before doubling over in pain.

You could feel every bone in your body begin to shift, the internal movement being more painful
than almost anything you had ever felt before. You drop to your knees, feeling as though your
insides are melting. Your skin begins to bubble in an unsettling manner, as though you were to wax
of a candle left to burn overnight. You are shouting in pain, your voice growing deeper as the
transformation goes on. You can feel your spine as well as your arms and legs stretch painfully, a
new height making itself known as your morph into the form of Professor Black.

You don’t even notice Professor Fig pull out his wand through the haze of pain you feel, but you
do notice that your quickly tightening clothes suddenly shift to adjust to your new form, your house
robes replaced by the smart dark green suit Professor Black so often wears.

Finally the pain subsides, and you move to stand using Professor Fig’s desk to support yourself as
 you grow accustomed to the sensation of being bigger than before. You never thought of Professor
Black being particularly tall, but now that you are quite literally in his shoes, you try to remember
if you ever stood next to the man long enough to notice his height in the first place.

You move a gloved hand up to itch at the new facial hair, not used to the sensation tickling your
face as the hair finishes growing out. Professor Fig lets out an amused exhale at the action,
bringing your attention back to the matter at hand.

“How do you feel?” Professor Fig asks, causing you to roll your eyes at the question. He lets out a
laugh at the action, prompting you to straighten back up with wide eyes. “Keep that attitude up and
no one will suspect you aren’t the Headmaster.” He teases.

“I won’t forget that feeling anytime soon, but I can’t get over how weird this all is! All things
considered, I feel fine. How do I sound?” You ask, your own voice sounding foreign as it leaves
your mouth. You are also quite embarrassed by the burp that forces its way out, but thankfully all
you get in response to it is another chuckle from Professor Fig before he answers your question.

“Convincing. As we discussed, you’ll need the password from Scrope, who could be anywhere in
the castle.” He seems deep in thought for a moment before perking up once again. “You might look
for Professor Kogawa! She’s taken to badgering the poor elf about Quidditch in the hopes that he
can convince Black to change his mind. Thus far, unsuccessfully.”

“I see, But what if Professor Black sees me?” You ask, now realizing that there are two
Headmasters currently on school grounds. Professor Fig once again cannot hold in his amusement
to your reactions. He chuckles before composing himself once again.

“Leave him to me. I shall tell him we’re to meet a liaison from the Ministry in Hogsmeade. That
should give you plenty of time.” Professor Fig adds, seeming confident in his plan despite making
it on the fly.

“Thank you, Professor. I suppose we’ll meet again in the Map Chamber.”

“It’s rather strange to hear gratitude coming from Professor Black.” Professor Fig begins, an
amused smile wide on his face. “I'll see you there. Do be careful to not act so…like yourself.” He
adds before leaving to distract the real Headmaster.

You decide to take Professor Fig’s comment as a compliment, rather than what could’ve been an
insult. How hard can it be to be Professor Black? You practice sneering in a mirror, giving
Professor Fig enough of a headstart to ensure you won’t run into Professor Black before leaving the
classroom to find Scrope.

Chapter End Notes

I'd like to think that Professor Fig has a petty side, you can't be a Gryffindor without it
in my opinion.

Fig and Sharp are experiencing the Hogwarts classic "snake vs. lion" dynamic and I
personally love it.
 Polyjuice Plot
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

You only make it a couple of steps out of Professor Fig’s classroom before you hear the familiar
call of Professor Sharp.

“Professor? A moment of your time, please.” Professor Sharp greets, his tone of voice unfamiliar to
you. Professor Sharp usually has a gruff, no nonsense attitude in class. Even outside of class he still
has the aloof attitude one would expect from a former Auror. Now, however, he sounds almost as
though he is putting on a front, a pleasant tone coming from the man despite the tenseness in his
posture.

You start to make a confused face before remembering that you are his boss at the moment,
quickly recovering into what you hope is the usual disinterested expression of Professor Black.
Professor Sharp approaches you before addressing you once again.

“Professor. I was hoping to catch you. I-” You only let Professor Sharp get so far before quickly
cutting him off.

“Oh, I…uh. Places to be Professor Sharp! Places to be.” You internally wince at how unconvincing
your performance is, but Professor Sharp appears unfazed.

“Of course, sir. Only…you’d asked me about a particular potion and I, well…” It was interesting to
see Professor Sharp act so nervous. You had never thought the man capable of such a thing, but
you suppose even someone as self-assured as Professor Sharp finds Professor Black’s unpleasant
demeanor something to be wary of.

“I did? I did. Yes. Well, spit it out, Sharp. I don’t have all day.” You think you are starting to get a
handle on your Professor Black persona, channeling all the pompousness and unprofessionalism
you can muster.

“Probably best not to discuss it here, sir.” Professor Sharp replies, eyes shifting nervously towards
the few students roaming the halls nearby.

“I assure you, Sharp. You may speak freely.” You reply, now trying your best to get out of this
conversation. You cannot let Professor Sharp take you somewhere to speak privately as you don’t
know how long the Polyjuice Potion will last. Even worse, if he asks to speak in the Headmaster’s
office you don’t know the password to get in.

“Very well.” Professor Sharp begins, hesitant to continue before inhaling with a slightly defeated
face. “I’ve brewed the cure for boils you wanted. I can drop it by your office when it’s
convenient.”

You can’t help the laughter that forces its way out, only briefly confusing Professor Sharp before
quickly moving to correct yourself.

“Ahem, of course. Yes. No need for all the cloak and dagger. Simply have a student deliver it.”
You reply. It would be best for a student to be sent, as you are unsure if Professor Sharp knows the
password for the Headmaster’s office. If he drops by while you are inside, it would ruin
everything.
“A…student.” Professor Sharp repeats, his voice dripping with distaste at the idea. “Very well sir.
If you insist.”

“I do. And, thank you Sharp. I just hope you’ve brewed enough for all my boils!” You add, unable
to help yourself from embarrassing Professor Black more. You might as well take advantage of the
opportunity.

Professor Sharp looks slightly offended before quickly recovering. As he is walking away, you can
hear him muttering about which student he will ask to perform the ‘unenviable task’. Another idea
pops into your head, both to distract Professor Sharp as well as see this little saga through to the
end.

“Sharp, might I suggest the new fifth-year? I hear they have been quite helpful to the staff recently,
though I cannot imagine why.” You say with an eye roll, trying to convey that you aren’t invested
either way. Professor Sharp stiffly nods before retreating, clearly trying to get away from the
conversation as soon as possible.

You continue down the stairs, making small comments to the students as they scramble out of your
way. You are actually enjoying yourself quite a bit saying things that you wouldn’t imagine saying
before, taking the opportunity to get used to the part you are playing before you need to talk to
another professor.

You are leaving the Defense Against the Dark Arts Tower when you spot none other than Garreth
Weasley, the boy turning pale as you approach.

“Garreth.” You begin in a hushed tone before remembering you aren’t the Gryffindor’s friend right
now, you are Professor Black. You quickly clear your throat before trying again in a stern tone.
“Mr. Weasley, what are you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Oh Professor, yes of course. All sorts of places I’d rather be right now…” He mutters before
remembering himself. “Uh, do you need something from me?”

“I’m looking for my house-elf. Surely you’ve seen him.” You inquire, trying your best to come
across with the Headmaster’s usual pretentious attitude.

“Ah! The little one-eared fellow? I saw him heading to the Great Hall moments ago. Muttering on
your…uh…sterling graces, sir.” Garreth responds, clearly eager to find his way out of this
conversation. You have to fight the mischievous grin threatening to make itself known as you think
about a recent favor Garreth asked you to do without making good on his promise to reward you.
Perhaps a bit of payback is in order.

“I am watching you, Mr. Weasley.” You start, making sure the sneer you practiced earlier is on
your face. “Mr. Redding, who owns Honeydukes, tells me some of his Billywig stings recently
went missing. Prime potion ingredient. I know you fancy yourself a skilled potioneer.” You
continue, making sure to use sarcasm when appropriate.

“What?! But, sir, I haven’t been anywhere near Honeydukes! I-” You can see Garreth sweating a
little bit at the accusation, and briefly worry he might actually turn on you and mention that you
were the one who stole them on his behalf. Garreth quickly schools his own features before
replying.

“I’m sorry sir, but I have no idea what you are referring to. Honestly!”
“That’s enough from you. Just know that I have eyes and ears everywhere. Everywhere, Mr.
Weasley.” You glare at him before giving a dismissive hand wave in his direction, turning to exit
the tower. At least now you know Garrett is someone you can trust. You can hear Garreth mutter
something about ‘this being one for his diary’, quickly leaving before you crack and snicker at the
comment. Garreth is too witty for his own good, at times.

As you make your way towards the Great Hall, you see the familiar red light of Ominis’s wand up
ahead. You briefly consider walking past him, but unfortunately Ominis has already noticed your
presence

“Professor Black! How are you sir?” He greets you in a pleasant tone.

You try not to feel hurt that Ominis is never this nice to you, remembering that you are currently
Professor Black: long time family friend to the Gaunts. Perhaps this slight disappointment is what
leads you to give the boy a hard time.

“Mr. Gaunt. Where do you think you’re going?” You ask, sounding as stern as you were with
Garreth moments ago.

“I beg your pardon, sir? I’m simply on my way outside.” Ominis replies, sounding unsure of
himself in the suddenly antagonistic conversation. You almost feel bad for him, before
remembering how he treated you outside the Undercroft as well as his harsh words in the
catacomb. No matter what you do, Ominis is always quick to assume the worst. Perhaps it is time
to dish out what he has been giving you for months.

“Taking the day off, eh? Typical student, wasting the hours away.” You sneer, trying not to be too
thrilled with how taken aback Ominis seems.

“I-I have to write twenty inches on dittany and its uses. Was heading to the greenhouse…” He
mumbles in response to the accusation. You decide enough was enough, and you would rather
embarrass Black than your pseudo-friend.

“Ah, yes! Dittany mixed with…um, Bubotuber pus makes a fine…mustache paste! Yes, mustache
paste, I find.” You reply, trying to think of what could be the most embarrassing combination to
mention to the boy.

“Are you feeling alright, sir? You don’t seem yourself.” Ominis tentatively asks. You can tell he is
concerned by your strange behavior, but is hesitant to press the matter since you are the
headmaster. You feel suddenly nervous as Ominis might know Professor Black better than you
thought, now eager to cut and run from this interaction since you have succeeded in embarrassing
both Ominis and Professor Black.

“I assure you I am quite healthy, Gaunt. If I need a medical diagnosis, I shall head to St Mungo’s.”
You hastily reply, swiftly pushing your way through the doors and leaving the confused blonde
behind.

The interruptions are never-ending, as Madam Kogawa spots you immediately after the doors
close behind you. At least this time you are approached by someone who you meant to find in the
first place.

“Professor Black. Again, it is not too late to reconsider your decision regarding Quidditch. We
could still have trials and a somewhat shortened season. It would be better than none at all.” She
starts, her voice respectful but her face betraying her true feelings on the subject.
“But- the injury, Madam Kogawa.” You respond, grasping at straws as the fate of this year’s
Quidditch season was not something you ever really concerned yourself with. You are new to the
wizarding world after all. Sports have been the last thing on your mind as you focused on learning
basic magic instead.

“Professor! More than one student has taken a Bludger to the head on our pitch. I daresay it
knocked some sense into them.” Madam Kogawa began, her impassioned speech not stopping as
you opened your mouth to respond. “And they’re fine now! The fact that it happened to be a pure-
blood, well, that’s no reason to-”

“What nonsense!” You respond without thinking. The entire season of a seemingly beloved sport
was canceled for something as trivial as blood status? You quickly remember yourself, making an
effort to work the exclamation into your response.

“Uh, that you would trivialize the health of the student over a silly game.” You finish, hoping that
you succeeded in covering up your shout. If Madam Kogawa’s stormy expression was any
indication, you are sure you succeeded.

“A silly game?! I- You are quite impossible sometimes. Sir.” She scoffs, her voice sounding
threatening as she drops the ‘sir’ at the end. “I’ve a good mind to write to the Department of
Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry about you.”

“Good idea. I can even provide the parchment should you need it. Now, where is my elf?” You
hastily add, once again looking for an escape from another confrontation. Being Professor Black is
almost as exhausting as walking the halls as yourself. Both students and teachers alike seem unable
to leave you alone no matter who you are, it seems.

“I- parchment? Very well, I will and with pleasure! And I spotted Scrope in the Great Hall. He
seems to be avoiding me.” She replies, her face twisted in disdain as she takes in your words.

“Hm, I wonder why. Good day, Madam Kogawa.” You sarcastically reply, quickly leaving the
woman behind as you make your way towards the Great Hall once again.

You fight the urge to chuckle as you continue to spit harsh words at the students milling about,
even hearing their retreating voices warning other students ahead of your presence. Fortunately, all
the commotion clears the way for you all the way to the entrance of the Great Hall. Unfortunately,
Professor Weasley is there waiting for Professor Black.

“Hello, Professor Black. I have been meaning to speak with you.” Professor Weasley greets, her
usually kind voice sounding tense as she speaks to her superior.

“Ah, Professor Weasley. How, er, delightful to see you.” You say, hoping that Professor Black is at
least kinder to the Deputy Headmistress than the rest of the faculty and students at Hogwarts. Her
bewildered expression immediately dash that theory. Clearly Black was as rude to her as he is to
everyone else. She lets out a questioning ‘sir?’ before you quickly move to cover your blunder.

“Ah! Since I have you here, I wonder if I might, um, speak with you about Professor Fig.” You
blurt, hoping that at least you were familiar enough with the concerns regarding your mentor to
stumble through this conversation rather than whatever Professor Weasley really wanted to talk
about.

“Oh. Very well.” She concedes, sounding slightly put out that you redirected the conversation, but
clearly unwilling to disagree with Professor Black.
“I’ve decided to give him a bit more… leeway with his time.” You start. If you are going to discuss
Professor Fig, you might as well use your pull as Professor Black to help the man out a bit.

“Leeway, Professor? Are you sure that’s wise? I must confess, I do worry for his students.
Professor Fig is rarely here as it is.” She argues, not unkindly but clearly with the intention to
change your mind.

“Ah. Well, yes. He’s handling some official Ministry business for me.” You reply, hoping that his
recent trip to the Ministry can be used to prove your point. Professor Weasley still seemed uneasy
with the idea, but you could tell she was also thinking about how he was summoned multiple times
in regard to the dragon attack.

“I see…” She begins, carefully considering her words before continuing. “Sir, if I may, I am also
wary with how much time the new fifth-year seems to be spending away from the castle,
supposedly on Professor Fig’s behalf.”

Shit. You don’t need to worry about your mentor anymore, now it’s time to save yourself from
Professor Weasely’s watchful eye. You take too long to respond, promoting Professor Weasley to
continue telling you her concerns about, well, you.

“I’ve heard unsettling rumors of their escapades. Everything from sneaking into the Forbidden
Forest to confronting Ranrok’s Loyalists and Rookwood’s lot!” She continues, her voice growing
more concerned as she gets to the more troubling activities. You cough, choking on your spit in
shock about how much she has heard before rushing to say anything to stop her.

“What?” You exclaim before quickly clearing your throat to regain your dignified performance of
the Headmaster. “Goodness. You cannot believe everything you hear, Professor. No, no…you
cannot!”

Professor Weasley seems to not accept this response, her face settling in disappointment. You have
only seen her use this face for Professor Black during his infamous speeches or Garreth when he is
once again given detention for brewing his own concoctions in potions. At least she is accepting
your act as the negligent Headmaster, rather than suspicious of you being an imposter.

“Ahem, I shall keep an eye on Fig. You simply keep doing the wonderful job that you’re doing.
Simply wonderful!” Hopefully your flattery will distract the woman. It appears to have worked, but
rather than her being distracted by the compliment, she seems shocked that you complimented her
at all. Professor Black really is a piece of work if he never says anything like that to the woman
acting as the literal backbone to this school.

“I, well- I! Uhm, thank you.” She responds, clearly still dumbstruck from the uncharacteristic
compliment. “But sir, I am happy to look into-”

“Good. Good.” You cut her off before she can say anymore. “That will be all Weasley- er,
Professor Weasley. Good day.”

You decide to quit while you're ahead, moving past the woman through the large doors to the
Great Hall. You can hear Professor Weasley muttering to herself as you leave her behind.

You didn’t expect her to cease all suspicions regarding both you and Professor Fig, but at least she
seems more concerned with Professor Black rather than the former topic.

You walk past dining students, feeling a slight twinge of hunger from the aroma of the always
delicious feast being served for lunch. Why do these trials always interrupt mealtimes? Perhaps
you can stop for a bite after you meet with Scrope.

As you approach the podium you spot the house-elf dusting, his distinctive one ear giving away
his identity to you. You feel guilty for what you are about to do, but you know Professor Black
would be worse to a house-elf than he is to students and faculty. You curl your lip, hoping you look
appropriately disgusted before getting the elf’s attention.

“Scrope!” You harshly shout, causing the house-elf to jump before turning to look up at you.

“Greetings, Master.” He politely responds. You hate to see that Scrope seems to still hold great
respect for the Headmaster, despite his family being notoriously cruel to him and his kind.

“Remind me of the password to my office.” You demand, eager to end this conversation and leave
the elf in peace. Scrope looks hesitant for a moment after the demand.

“But…Master made Scrope swear to never tell anyone. Even Master himself.” He anxiously
replies, clearly trying to stay on the man’s good side while disobeying an order. You steel yourself
for what you are about to do.

“How dare you question me? I’ve a mind to give you a matching set of ears.” You hiss, venom
dripping from your voice as the house-elf’s eyes widen.

“Er, yes sir. Of course, sir. Scrope begs your forgiveness.” he scrambles before regaining his
composure. “It is the Black family motto, Master.”

“Hmm, right. Of course. I-” You stutter. You should have done some research on the man before
impersonating him, but unfortunately Professor Fig was insistent you carry out this scheme as soon
as possible.

“Master does remember it…?” Scrope asks, his face now looking as suspicious as he can allow
without offending the Headmaster

“Of course I do!” You blurt, trying your best to remember anything that the Black family motto
could be related to.

You recall overhearing Slytherins from the older wizarding families refer to blood status often.
Even Ominis mentioned it offhandedly when he was dismissing the beliefs his own family held.
Perhaps it has something to do with that, since it seems so important.

“It's ‘Purebloods Forever’ isn’t it?” You ask, hoping that you were condescending enough that
when your answer is inevitably wrong, the house-elf will assume you meant to make the mistake.
You can see the suspicion clear from the elf’s face, his expression turning to one of slight relief and
amusement.

“Close, Master. Scrope thinks Master is indeed testing Scrope! It is ‘always pure’.” He provides,
sounding excited to impress Professor Black.

“Obviously.” You retort, hoping that you sound enough like the ever petulant man.

“And, of course, as Master knows, it’s in French.” Scrope tacks on, seeming more humble now but
still trying his best to indulge his master. Of course it couldn’t be that simple. If Scrope is
convinced this is a test, perhaps you can push him further.

“Ah yes, of course. I order you to pronounce it for me.” You demand once again, domineering
over the house-elf as though challenging him to refuse. Scrope seems nervous once again, eyes
 shifting downwards before obliging.

“Master knows that Scrope’s French is most pitiful…” He trails off. You shoot another glare at the
elf before he rushes to correct himself. “Er, very well: Toujours Pur.”

“Ha! Thank you.” You reply, the stricken face of the house-elf reigning in your excitement for
learning the password, as you remember Professor Black would never be so kind to his elf. “Never
speak of this conversation with me or anyone else.” You add, making your voice sound as
threatening as possible.

Scrope mentions staying out of your way before quickly apparating out of the Great Hall. You eye
the podium for a moment before stepping up to make an announcement. You are the Headmaster,
after all. Might as well put your position of power to good use.

After declaring your house’s colors shall adorn the halls, the Great Hall somehow hears the
command and shifts the banners and Christmas ornaments to adhere to the request. You hear the
mixture of cheers and heckles from the students before you are distracted by the sensation of your
bones shifting.

It seems your time as Professor Black is up. You are burping, the effects of the potion making
themselves known once again, as you stagger towards a secluded area behind the Great Hall. You
explored this empty balcony of the Great Hall earlier, and thankfully the convenient privacy
divider is still set up.

You make it behind the screen before biting down on your jacket to muffle the pained noises
escaping you during the shift back. Luckily, transforming back is a fraction of the pain as the
initial transformation. You once again are yourself, standing in clothes that are too large for you.

You briefly panic, wondering how you are going to get out of here while obviously wearing
Professor Black’s suit, before your clothes also shift back into your usual robes. It seems Professor
Fig had been quite accurate when enchanting the clothing, thankfully calculating slightly over
rather than under with his charm.

You roll your shoulders, willing the minor aches of transforming away as you set off towards the
faculty tower. You need to access the third trial before the real Professor Black returns to his office.

Chapter End Notes

The polyjuice plot was definitely one of the funniest moments in the game! My love
for it is probably why this is one of the longest chapters in the fic.

I promise I absolutely adore Ominis, but you have to admit that he is pretty harsh to us
throughout the game. When playing the Polyjuice Plot, it felt strange that we gave him
such a hard time until I remembered all he does is give us a hard time! We really were
robbed the opportunity to be his friend :(
 The Deathly Hallows
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

You make a mental note to thank Mr. Moon for teaching you alohamora, as even accessing the
entrance to the Headmaster’s office took quite a bit of lockpicking.

The large bronze griffin stands unmoving at the Headmaster’s entrance, wings spread wide and
head looking straight ahead. While the gargoyle is still, you know that it is enchanted and most
likely knows you are there, cold eyes almost daring you to attempt the password.

“Well, here goes nothing.” You mutter before standing up straighter. Scrope said his French was
poor, so you hope that you repeating him will be good enough to satisfy the gargoyle

“Toujours Pur.”

For a moment nothing happens until suddenly the gargoyle shoots upwards, the large stone column
underneath it rising to reveal a spiraling staircase. You wait for the steps to all materialize before
taking a careful first step upwards. You hope that there aren’t protective enchantments that will
stop you, but soon you are all the way up the stairs and at the entrance to Professor Black’s office.

You eye the portraits surrounding the room, worried that they will sound the alarm that an intruder
has entered the private space. Most of the portraits are older witches and wizards slumbering the
day away. If you were to spend your afterlife as a portrait, you suppose sleeping would be one of
the few activities you can really do when nothing is going on. They can’t all be Keepers with
world-ending missions to dish out to students.

One of the portraits catches your eye, the dark haired wizard studying a globe looking down at you
with amusement. He puts a finger to his lips and winks, making it clear that he doesn’t intend to
reveal you to the other portraits or the staff. You remember Professor Fitzgerald’s harsh words
about the current Headmaster. Perhaps all the other portraits in the office feel the same way, and
would rather a student cause mischief than aid the man. You nod back at the portrait, receiving a
smile as he goes back to his studying.

As you approach the desk in the center of the room, you look up to see Professor Fitzgerald
looking relieved that you have made it.

“It’s good to see you.” She greets, a small smile on her face.

“All thanks to Professor Fig’s quick thinking. Now what?” You ask, still eyeing the other portraits
suspiciously. You would hate for them to wake now and ruin all of your hard work.

“Approach the pedestal in the antechamber and read the book that appears.” She instructs,
sounding unusually serious. You grow nervous, as the woman has not really been one to speak
unkindly towards you before.

“What will I find in the book, Professor? I suspect there will be more to this than reading a story.”
You timidly ask, her face once again softening as she recognizes the hesitation in your words.

“Your suspicions are correct. Do not worry, the story is one with elements that will be familiar to
any young witch or wizard.” She encourages. You suppose she is unaware that you had only
become acquainted with the wizarding world earlier this year. Perhaps she assumed that since you
took so well to the ancient magic, you must’ve been born into it.

Rather than correct her, you nod your head in understanding and make your way to the pedestal. A
large leatherbound book appears, opening before you with golden sparks of magic.

‘How bad can a children’s story really be?’ You wonder, before black ink shoots off the page,
swirling around you. You clutch your wand in your hand, ready for a devastating battle in the
Headmaster’s office before you feel a pull towards the book. The ink surrounds you, and the
familiar feeling of apparition makes itself known as you are sucked into the pages.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you can see the blinding light behind your closed lids. You
tentatively open your eyes to see nothing but white space around you. There is a substance
reminiscent of ash floating around you in the empty space, as though pushed by wind that you
cannot feel.

“Where am I?” You breathe, looking around for anything to walk towards. “Professor Fitzgerald?
Can you hear me?” You shout, now feeling trapped and isolated in the space. You look down and
don’t even see a floor for you to walk on, fearful that you could fall at any moment. You try to
ignore the ebbs of panic working its way through you, taking a shaky step forward and finding that
you are not falling, but rather walking on some invisible force serving as solid ground.

“I am here. In this place, you may call me Niamh.” Professor Fitzgerald soothes, her voice echoing
in the empty space. You look around, but it is almost as though her voice is narrating from above,
reading the book you have been trapped in.

“You shall be witness to a fable. Pay attention. Things are not always what they seem.” She
informs you, as the sketchings of a farmhouse suddenly form around you.

You look down at your hands, the unfamiliar monochromatic world having an affect on you as
well. It is disorienting for a moment, seeing yourself as though you were a drawing rather than the
body you are used to. If you get transformed one more time today, you are going to lose it. The
white sky above you swirls with gray clouds and the air feels thick with tension, but from what you
are unsure.

“You must move swiftly and cautiously. Use the tools you encounter to find me.” Niamh instructs.
“The first you will need is a cloak.” She adds, the reverence in her voice conveying that this cloak
is something special.

You walk down the path that has materialized before you, away from the farmhouse and towards a
hamlet in ruins. Thorny trees reach over the stone bridge you cross towards the hamlet, and you
can see smoke coming from some of the structures.

“In this place, as in life, Death takes many forms. Avoid each of them at all costs.” Niamh warns
you, causing you to freeze on the bridge as you hear a strangled scream up ahead.

You look up, eyes wide with terror as a massive cloaked figure appears. The skeletal appearance of
the figure causes you to shrink back, the bony fingers of the figure digging into the thatched roofs
of the village. The figure is surrounded by a fine black mist, a sinister smile on its face as it
observes the hamlet below.

Death, your mind supplies. This must be some sort of physical manifestation of Death.

Death reaches a bony hand down, its sharp fingers digging into the earth before revealing man
sized replicas of itself. A wizard was standing nearby, and he lets out a shout in terror as he turns to
sprint away. One of the newly summoned shadows points at the man, its skeleton grin somehow
intensifying as a surge of magic shoots forth hitting the man square in the back. A black fog
surrounds the man as he yelps in pain before he is reduced to ash.

Other wizards and witches who witnessed the death run in their own panic, either towards their
homes or trying to exit the Hamlet entirely. You see children being dragged by their parents into
their homes, shock painting their features in a way you have never seen on a child’s face before.

You look up to notice that Death has disappeared, the hooded figures spawned in its place moving
to search for more victims. You quickly cast disillusionment on yourself before hiding behind an
overturned cart.

Clearly sneaking around will be in your best interest, as your wand feels otherwise useless in your
hands. You didn’t realize how you could feel the ever-present swirl of magic within you until it
was gone, somehow repressed during this trial.

You try your best to ignore the shouts from the villagers as you slink around, reminding yourself
that this isn’t real. They aren’t really being massacred. They are just ink on a page.

Grown men are cowering behind stone walls for cover and you can hear children whimpering in
fear. In the distance, you hear more fighting and screaming, the helpless villagers being
slaughtered as you continue to avoid detection. You fight the sting of tears in your eyes, knowing
that there is nothing you can do to help them. In a way, this is worse than anything else you've
encountered so far.

You sneak further into the hamlet, avoiding larger and larger groups of cloaked figures before
Death once again makes itself known.

You are ducking under a bridge when the giant figure looms over your hiding spot, empty eye
sockets somehow searching for you before once again dissipating before your eyes. As Death
vanishes, you force yourself to move through piles of festering corpses, the slight tremors racking
through you involuntarily displaying your fear.

You have seen dead bodies before, both when searching in Jackdaw’s tomb as well as during your
travels, but this was different. Those bodies were usually either entirely skeletal or whole, almost
appearing as though they were in a deep sleep.

These corpses are closer to inferi, emaciated and rotting away as crows peck at their eyes and skin.
The smell of rotting flesh burns in your nose and the sound of hundreds of scavenging flies buzz
around your ears. You wave your arms around your body to prevent the flies from clinging to you,
the insects following you in anticipation of their next meal.

As you approach the edge of the village, Death is once again there searching for you. There are
more and more cloaked figures being created, the effort to find you taking priority over wreaking
havoc.

You huddle into a nearby building, a glimmer in the distance catching your eye as you avoid the
shadows of Death. You sneak past more figures as you move towards a shining pedestal, a large
cloak being suspended by swirling magic. You remove your own cloaking charm, delicately
grasping the fabric of the cloak in your hands. You swiftly put it on, looking down to notice that
you are no longer able to see your own feet as well as shadow. You must be invisible.

You walk more freely, the shadow forms of Death not even noticing your presence as you make
your way out of the hamlet. You make a point to look straight ahead, as looking down only serves
to traumatize you further with corpses of the former residents of this village. The world once again
turns into the stark white form you were introduced to in the beginning as you get further away,
and soon you are alone with nothing but ash swirling around you.

“You have outrun Death thus far, but have yet to find me.” Niamh states, her voice once again
coming from somewhere far beyond your reach. “Keep searching, but this time you will be unable
to hide.”

It makes no sense that you got an item that would literally keep you hidden from death at the end
of the ‘hide from Death’ mission, but before you can voice any doubts the world once again fills
around you. Another pedestal is formed before you, a wand suspended in the air humming with
power. It almost feels reminiscent of ancient magic as you inch closer.

“Wield the wand you see before you. Do not squander its extraordinary power.” Niamh instructs.

As you take the wand in your hands, you feel more powerful than ever before. You gasp in awe at
the feeling, before moving to exit the structure you now find yourself within.

Now feeling more capable since you are able to once again use magic, you find yourself less afraid
of the journey ahead. You continue to move forward, trying to ignore the pungent smell of death
and rot before you are stopped by the cloaked figures, clearly needing to fight your way through.

You cast familiar spells, finding that the power behind this new wand is something not even a
maxima potion could compare to. As you continue forwards into what almost seems like a battle
arena, you are confronted by wave after wave of Death’s shadows, either in their usual cloaked
form or as wolves and trolls. Death itself looms above you, sending more powerful enemies your
way in an effort to stop you.

The fight is tiring, but in a way you aren’t even feeling challenged by it. After witnessing the scene
prior, you are almost thankful to fight enemies far away from the innocents of the hamlet.

After you defeat every enemy sent your way you stare down Death, still intimidated but ready to
take on whatever challenge it will throw your way. Death stares right back, the empty voids where
its eyes should be making you feel uncomfortably seen before retreating back into the white void
from which it came.

You momentarily found yourself mourning the lack of a fight from Death before remembering
yourself. While you feel powerful wielding this strange wand, you slowly grow fearful of what you
have temporarily become. You are normally down to fight whatever is thrown your way, but you
have never been someone to prefer fighting over other methods. Something about the raw power
the wand possesses has clouded your better judgment. This wand could be very dangerous in the
wrong hands.

Thankfully as you move forward you see another pedestal, signaling that this stretch of the trial has
concluded. The world around you is once again bathed in white, the wand turning to ash in your
hands as a pedestal with a floating stone takes form before you.

You hesitantly take the stone, fingers tracing the unfamiliar engraving one one of its sides as the
word around you shifts once again. You see a gated entrance resembling the cemetery outside of
Hogsmeade before you.

“You are far from finished.” Niamh speaks, her voice projecting over the cries from villagers you
can hear beyond the gates. “Pass through the mourners ahead. Nothing is what it seems.”
 You are hesitant to press forward, worried that you will once again be tormented by the sights of
people dying that you have no way to save. You stay frozen in fear, listening for the familiar
sounds of Death’s magic being cast but only hearing sniffling cries up ahead. You inhale deeply,
gripping the stone tighter in your hand as you approach the gates.

As you walk through the cemetery, it quickly becomes clear who the mourners are here to lay to
rest. A sobbing witch sitting on the ground mutters Niamh’s name, asking why she was taken so
soon. More mourners mention honoring the former Headmaster’s memory, or how she still had so
much to do before passing. It almost felt wrong to witness the mourning for a witch you have only
met after death. You felt like an intruder at an intimate event.

As you make your way through the cemetery, you finally come across Niamh Fitzgerald’s body.
Death looms overhead, almost casually leaning on the mausoleum she is placed before. Her body
is on top of the casket, arms folded as though she is only resting. Death cocks its head in your
direction before once again disappearing in black mist.

You approach Niamh, the world once again turning white around you both. The stone in your hand
is practically vibrating with power, and you hold it between you both. You feel an unfamiliar
power surge from the stone, unsure what it seeks to accomplish. Suddenly Niamh angles her head
upwards to look at you, appearing as though she has been alive all this time.

“You found me. But you cannot undo what has been done. The magic of the stone can only conjure
a shadow of my former self.” She calmly informs you as she moves to stand next to you.

She gestures for you to follow her as she leads you towards a giant statue of herself looming above
a pensieve. You really must ask Professor Fig what kind of children’s fable this trial resembles,
because a death defying stone is not in the muggle repertoire of bedtime stories.

“There is no light without shadow as there is no shadow without light. Simply because you can
eliminate darkness does not always mean that you should. Remember that as you witness my
memory.” Niamh offers sagely, stopping before the statue.

A single tear falls from the eye of her statue, once again offering an artifact above the pensieve.
You take it before plunging into the memory below, leaving the Headmaster behind.

Chapter End Notes

If you go back and look at gameplay from this trial, the corpses are pretty gnarly. I
was too focused on sneaking around the first time, but on my second playthrough I was
pretty shocked!

I'm debating combining chapters 5 & 6 rather than leaving them separated, as they are
both shorter than the rest. I worry that it will mess with the flow of the story though,
since I'd need to add more connective tissue between the two chapters.

I'm currently fighting a cold, so we'll see what my NyQuil brain decides to do lol.
 Failing the Unknown Test
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

You bring your head out of the pensive to an unfamiliar room. The monochromatic sketchbook
world you entered the memory in has now shifted to the typical stylings of the trials, the gilded
architecture and swirling floor patterns putting you at ease. You look around, finally spotting the
archway that will lead you out of the third trial and back into the Map Chamber.

You are relieved to see Professor Fig is here waiting for you along with the other portraits. He
turns towards you after hearing you approach, bright eyes looking you over for any injuries.

You must admit, of the three trials this was by far the least dangerous. You barely needed your
wiggenwelds at all and your robes are in perfect condition. You give the man a small smile to
assure him you are alright as he continues to fuss, spinning you around by your shoulders to check
you from all angles before finally satisfied that you are, in fact, unharmed.

Movement from the corner of your eye draws both your and your mentor’s attention, turning to see
the fourth portrait now occupied with the final Keeper. This must be San Bakar, the man who the
tower holding the first trial was named after.

“Is it true? Has someone completed the first three trials?” He asks the others, his voice lightly
accented.

“It is, and I have.” You respond, perhaps a bit too proud as Professor Fig elbows you in response.
You wince, rubbing your arm as you look bashfully up at the portrait once again.

“But you are so-” Professor Bakar begins, before you cut him off.

“Young? I know.” You supply, once again receiving an elbow from the man next to you. Even as
he silently admonishes you, you still see some understanding in Professor Fig’s eyes. It gets tiring
being seen as too young to complete the trials while at the same time expected to complete them by
the very same wizards who doubt you.

“You must be Professor Bakar.” You say, taking care that your tone is one your mentor would be
more approving of this time around.

“I am.” Professor Bakar confirms, not seeming at all offended by your slight attitude. If anything,
he seems amused by the dynamic between you and your mentor. Even so, to avoid a bruise on your
wand arm you decide to reign in your attitude, aiming to be more respectful from this point
onward.

“Pleased to meet you. The pensieve memory I just witnessed- was Isidora inhaling painful
emotions?” You ask, directing your question towards Professor Fitzgerald rather than the man you
were originally speaking to. Even so, Professor Bakar responds.

“She was.” He simply states, studying your face closely but for what you are not sure.

“I found it rather disturbing.” You comment, eyebrows pinched in concern as you remember how
unhinged Isidora seemed as she demonstrated her power in the memory. Professor Bakar seems to
release some tension from his shoulders at your statement, as though you unknowingly passed
some sort of test.
“But, how did she gain power from it? How did she harness it?” You continue, ruining whatever
rapport you had with the man as Professor Bakar tenses back up.

“It was disturbing. Although, I wonder why you are asking about her power.” Professor Bakar
responds in a clipped tone. “I hesitate to reveal the location of my pensieve to someone who,
perhaps, has yet to understand the responsibility of power.”

You can feel your face contorting into one of offense, not appreciating the accusation from a man
you just met. Professor Fig places a comforting hand on your shoulder, and although he appears
unphased, the tenseness in his hand reveals he is also not taking the accusation well.

“I can assure you, Professor, I do.” You defend yourself, aware that you might be coming across as
a petulant child but not finding the energy to care. You hear Professor Rookwood snort at your
comment, clearly finding this entire meeting humorous.

“In fact, what you don’t yet know is that a dangerous goblin called Ranrok has accessed the
repository at Rookwood Castle. He has learned to harness the contents of it as a source of immense
power and he plans to use it against wizardkind. We have no time to waste.” You inform the man,
using your best effort to not come across as rude as you wish to be. The use of the many colorful
words you had learned from your time in London before attending Hogwarts might be satisfying,
but it won’t get you points from any of the professors in the room. Professor Bakar looks down at
you, deep in thought before moving to respond.

“I see. Nevertheless, the knowledge you shall gain after you witness my memories is too valuable
to share without further consideration.” He replies, firm in his decision. You can already tell that
Professor Bakar was going to be your least favorite of all the Keepers. Before you decide losing
house points might actually be worth the risk, Professor Bakar continues.

“I shall require time to confer with the other Keepers.” He concludes, shooting the other portraits a
skeptical look. Clearly he was as unimpressed with you as you were with him.

Professor Fig pulls you away, turning to speak to you with his own annoyed expression. You
expect him to chew you out for your undignified behavior, but to your surprise he looks at you with
a sense of understanding.

“It seems we have no choice but to wait. Frustrating as it is.” He confirms, reminding you that he is
just as invested in the secrets of ancient magic as you are.

“Now, what was it that you were telling Professor Bakar about Isidora? She was inhaling emotions
to gain power?” He asks, redirecting your attention from the frustration of the situation to
something else.

“She was. And she pulled the emotion, as she did with her father, from Professor Fitzgerald. This
time without permission.” You reply, still shuddering at the idea of such an invasive action.
Professor Fitzgerald’s expression of fear and repulsion was one that still played in your mind.

“Monstrous!” Professor Fig exclaimed, trying to imagine the scene for himself.

“What more, she said she had found a way to store the traces of magic she extracted in goblin
silver.” You add, seeing the same recognition on the man's face that you had when witnessing the
memory yourself.

“The repositories?” he asks, though his tone already shows he is sure he knows the answer.

“Possibly. There is something I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier. When investigating the
 goblin mines, I found evidence that Ranrok has been digging at locations tied to the five names in
the journals of a goblin metalworker named Bragbor.” You inform the man, his eyebrows
furrowing at the mention of five names.

“Five names? The Keepers and…who else? Isidora Morganach?” He wonders aloud.

“Precisely.” You quickly confirm. “That’s how he has been one step ahead of us. Gringotts, the
tower, Rookwood castle…” You trail off, once again frustrated that you have four ancient
professors guiding you, but hesitant to actually let you know anything concrete.

“If the Keepers won’t tell you where the next trial is yet, I say we at least maintain a watch on
Ranrok. Perhaps he’ll lead us to more information.” Professor Fig urges, his tone bitter with the
unspoken ending to his sentence. Perhaps he will lead us to more information than the Keepers are
willing to divulge.

“Perhaps. I hope to hear from Lodgok soon. I haven’t heard anything since I learned of the drills.”
You state, hoping that the goblin is alright. He has proven to be a great ally, and you even consider
him a friend at this point.

“Oh, and as you’ve probably guessed by now, your Polyjuice plan worked like a charm!” You add
a smile spreading across your face as Professor Fig’s mood shifts to a more humorous one.

“I knew it would! I may have done too good of a job distracting Black. I had no idea he couldn't
hold his Firewhisky.” He replies conspiratorially, his eyes sparkling from the shared mischief.

“Come, let’s get to the Great Hall. Dinner is to be served soon and I think you have earned a warm
meal after all of that acting!” Professor Fig announces, leading you out of the Map Chamber. Your
stomach grumbles in confirmation that you were indeed starving, resulting in a chuckle from the
man.

Chapter End Notes

Professor Bakar is by far the least trusting of us, and knowing what he does later in the
game it feels unwarranted if I'm being honest. Sir, I know you of all people aren't
throwing me attitude!
 An Unenviable Task
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Ever since completing the third trial, you have been unable to shake the feeling of dread that is
always festering in your gut.

You initially thought you had been fine, this trial being one of the least physically taxing ones you
have had to complete so far. However, you couldn’t anticipate the real toll it had taken on you.

Professor Fig once again was busying himself with research into Ranrok and his possible plans,
leaving you to your own devices as you scramble around the castle. At first, you made sure to
always remain busy yourself to avoid thinking about the trial.

Any free time you had was spent running around with Poppy in the Forbidden Forest, trying to
help Ominis rein in Sebastian, doing small deliveries for Hogsmeade residents, or even making
more of an effort to find the demiguises scattered around the valley for Mr. Moon. While all of
these activities helped to distract you in the day, you were still plagued by nightmares the second
you closed your eyes.

You were dreaming in the same monochromatic style the third trial was presented in, once again
huddling with other witches and wizards trying to hide from Death. You could smell the dead, your
stomach churning as you made an effort to tamp down the emotion. You cover your ears to
dampen the cacophony of screams surrounding you, voices pleading for mercy as they are
slaughtered one by one.

The wall you are cowering behind is blasted by shadows of Death, knocking you over into a pile of
dead behind you. You look at the corpse you landed on, the cold eyes of George Osric staring back
at you. He then jumps towards you, causing you to shriek as the other corpses move in tandem.
You recognize some of them as fellow students before covering your face to protect yourself from
their inevitable attacks.

You wake up screaming yourself hoarse, your roommates looking at you in fear at your bedside. It
takes a lot of convincing on your part before they go back to sleep, eyeing you warrily from their
beds. It was difficult to even look some of them in the eyes as you recognized them from your
dream, their concerned faces reminding you of the rotting corpse versions you just witnessed.

From that point on, you decide to sleep in the room of requirement, not that you did much sleeping
there either.

The room of requirement was always growing more comfortable as you continue to master
transfiguration, plush couches and soft blankets available to you as you rest uneasily at night. Even
with all the comforts you can manage, you find yourself waking up in a cold sweat every night,
usually screaming in terror. Luckily, Deek was never present when you went to sleep in there, most
likely sleeping with the other house-elves in the kitchens.

Eventually you decide that your time would be better spent tending to your beats or wandering the
halls rather than trying to sleep. Avoiding the prefects patrolling the halls is painfully easy
compared to sneaking into goblin camps.

Now you find yourself perpetually tired, even blowing off some of your friends as they ask for your
help. Maybe it would be better to not self-isolate, but if Poppy asks you to rescue another dragon
egg you aren’t sure you will be awake enough to avoid being burnt to a crisp this time around.

As it grows colder, you spend less time outside. You mourn the absence of flying around the
valley, your favorite distraction being deemed too unsafe in the worsening conditions outside. The
last time you flew on your broom to assist Mr. Weekes with his broom calibrations, you suffered a
minor case of frostbite. After visiting the hospital wing, an announcement was sent out banning
flying until the weather improves. You make sure to avoid Imelda, worried that she would
somehow sense you were the reason her broom trials were put on hold.

Since you cannot leave the school grounds, you often find yourself gravitating towards the potions
classroom. While Professor Fig is busy, you find that spending more time with Professor Sharp is
surprisingly pleasant.

He was initially annoyed with your presence, grumbling about students interrupting him while
class is not in session, but after observing you diligently studying various potions recipes he
became more interested in your brewing abilities. He would remark on your brewing technique,
either correcting something you are doing wrong or giving you praise wrapped in sarcasm.

Today was another snowy evening, the wind blowing the flurries against the windows of the castle
encouraging students to find indoor activities to occupy themselves. You had just entered the
potions classroom when Professor Sharp called you to his desk.

“I have to ask you to deliver something for me.” Professor Sharp remarks, his voice clearly
implying this was not a request but rather a polite demand. He reaches into his desk before pulling
out a small vial of swirling blue liquid, holding it out for you to take.

“Sir?” You ask, confused for a moment before realization hits you. You had nearly forgotten the
entire Polyjuice incident entirely, but you did in fact ask Professor Sharp to send you to deliver the
potion that day. You briefly wonder why Professor Sharp has waited longer than you would expect
to send you on this errand, but you know there would be no way to discreetly ask.

“The Headmaster requested you to deliver it specifically. Can you think of why that is?” He gruffly
asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he carefully studies your face.

“Uh, no sir. Perhaps it is because I’m the first student he thought of? I do stick out quite a bit being
a late addition.” You provide as a response, hoping it was enough of an excuse to convince the
man.

Professor Sharp continues to stare you down for a moment longer before relaxing once more. You
look down at the vial, a carefully labeled ‘Cure for Boils’ tag hanging off the top of the bottle. The
potions professor lightly chuckles as you lift the tag on the vial to read it better. While you were
already aware of its contents, you were surprised that it was so brazenly labeled by the man.
Apparently, Professor Sharp wanted to get his own revenge for Professor Black’s odd request.

“Professor Black should be in his office right now, and I have left the entrance to the faculty tower
unlocked for you. The password is Toujours Pur to get into the Headmaster’s office. Just say it to
the gargoyle and he’ll let you in.” Professor Sharp informs you.

You fight the exasperated sigh threatening to escape you. After all of the effort acting as Professor
Black, you could have somehow gotten it from Professor Sharp this whole time. You quickly
dismiss the idea though, as you suppose impersonating the Headmaster was still far easier than
getting a seasoned Auror to divulge secrets.
“Alright, sir. I’ll go right away.” You respond, turning to complete the embarrassing task.

“Once you deliver it, return here. I am working on a potion that I think you will find interesting.”
Professor Sharp adds.

You turn around to nod excitedly at the man, earning an amused expression from Professor Sharp
before once again moving to leave the room, this time faster in an effort to see what he might be
demonstrating.

The walk up to the Headmaster’s office was long, but luckily since you have been there before it
was familiar. As Professor Sharp detailed, the entrance to the faculty tower was left unlocked for
you, though you already know even if it wasn’t you could have unlocked it yourself.

You speak the password to the gargoyle, the griffin looking pleased that your pronunciation has
improved before revealing the stairs. While Scrope struggled with French it seems that Professor
Sharp has a far better handle on the language, though you would guess being bilingual could have
been something he picked up working as an Auror. He did mention taking down smuggling rings,
perhaps he worked internationally? You made a note to ask the man as you continued to ascend the
stairs.

Professor Fitzgerald’s portrait was empty, as she most likely was still down in the Map Chamber.
You make sure to nod towards the portrait of the dark haired wizard that helped you earlier,
earning a wink from the man as you approach Professor Black’s desk. The Headmaster didn’t even
bother to look up before speaking.

“Whatever it is, I am sure it can wait.” He sharply stated, rummaging through papers that seemed
fairly important. You freeze, not sure how to proceed. Perhaps saying nothing and dropping the
vial on his desk would be better than facing the moody man before you. As you move to do exactly
that, Professor Black glances upwards, face morphing in anger at your intrusion.

“How did you- what-” He sputters before gathering his thoughts. “How did you get up here?” He
finally asks, his tone deadly as he moves to stand.

“I was told to deliver a potion to you, sir?” You quickly reply, holding the potion out in front of
you for the man to take.

You never thought he would make you so nervous, but you realize now that you needed to make
sure Professor Black doesn’t scold Professor Sharp for your actions as it could lead to
complications, revealing that there was an imposter on campus that day. You need to make sure
you cover both Professor Fig’s and your own tracks now before it is too late.

Professor Black snatches the potion from your hands, still looking at you with disdain but moving
to sit back down. He shoves the potion in his pocket after seeing the label, embarrassment painting
his features.

“How did you get up here?” He repeats, tone still harsh but now with less force behind it. It seems
the embarrassment of you knowing what the potion is has overshadowed his rage that a student
was in his office in the first place.

“Professor Sharp gave me the password, mentioning you asked for me to deliver it last Friday
evening? You were apparently…unwell.” You add, making sure you look properly concerned.

Professor Black’s face paled, most likely wondering what else he did after getting sloshed with
Professor Fig. He awkwardly clears his throat before continuing.
 “Ah yes. Well, now that you have done what I asked, get out.” He responded, sounding a bit
flustered but making an effort to cover up his expression with a sneer as he hastily gestures for you
to leave.

You quickly turn to go, holding in a snicker realizing your impression of the man seemed to be
spot on.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter is a shorty, so I will most likely post the final chapter later tonight.

It's a long one, so strap in!

 Stench of the Dead
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

You make your way back down to potions, a grin on your face as you think about the confused
Headmaster you left behind. As soon as you open the door, however, you freeze.

Professor Sharp is at a large cauldron in the back of the room. He must’ve summoned it for
whatever it was he was going to show you. While your eyes take in the information before you, all
you can process is the smell.

“You’re back. I trust the Headmaster was pleasant.” Professor Sharp snarks, not turning to see you
as he continues grinding ingredients at his potions station. He must take your silence as a response,
chuckling as he adds more power to the cauldron, the smell intensifying around you.

“I am working on a more potent form of Thunderbrew. You seemed to have completed the potion
adequately from my extra assignment, but I still want to demonstrate the proper technique to ensure
you fully understand the potion. It might even be something we can test out in the courtyard, with
proper safety precautions, of course.” He continues, almost rambling as he focuses on the task at
hand.

Stench of the dead. He is using stench of the dead to make a potion, the smell of corpses once
again throwing you back into the last trial.

Your vision blurs, the sounds of screams filling your ears as the hamlet is destroyed by Death. You
press yourself against a stone wall, taking cover as the cloaked figures walk past you, searching for
more victims. You don’t even have your wand in your hand. You know it is useless anyway, as this
part of the trial you are meant to be sneaking around looking for Niamh.

You feel your breath quicken despite your best efforts to remain calm. If you breathe too hard the
cloaked shadows of death will find your hiding place, as you know they are already looking for
you. You know you are starting to hyperventilate, but the fear of being caught only results in you
spiraling further into panic.

You see a man approach and before you can stop yourself you grab his arm, dragging him down to
crouch next to you. Even though you know there is nothing you can do to save him from his fate,
you still have to try. You hear him grunt in pain, quickly shushing him as you wildly look around,
the black and white world blurring around you as you look for somewhere safer to hide.

The screams intensify around you, prompting you to release your tight grip on the man’s arm to
cover your ears as the shadows move closer. The stench of death around you grows stronger, more
festering bodies being created by the cloaked figures. You feel a hand grab your shoulder, causing
you to flail away from it.

The skeletal hands of Death have found you. You squeeze your eyes shut and throw yourself
backwards away from its grip. Another hand joins the first, suddenly gripping the back of your
head as you collide with the wall you are taking cover behind.

You reach a hand up to claw at it, blood being drawn from the pressure of your fingernails. Blood.
Blood? Why is there blood? You open your eyes to see Professor Sharp staring you down, his face
hardened as he says something to you. You can’t hear him, the hammering of your heart in your
chest is impossibly loud, the blood rushing in your ears only being drowned out by the screams still
surrounding you both.

“How are you here? You- we- we need to move.” You stutter, horror painting your features as you
scramble to stand. Professor Sharp’s eyes widen as he moves to put more pressure on your
shoulders, keeping you in place against the wall. He is still speaking, the muffled sound making its
way into your ears. The screams die down but the smell remains. You begin to feel dizzy, your
stomach once again churning as the smell works its way through you.

You try to focus on the man in front of you, Professor Sharp’s intense gaze snapping you into
place. He is not talking anymore, instead he is grabbing your hand to place on his chest. He
breathes in intentionally deep through his nose, exhaling out of his mouth before repeating the
action.

You understand his intention, but as you move to inhale you sputter and cough, shuddering breaths
racking through you as the smell remains. You snatch back your hand to cover your nose, turning
green as Professor Sharp steps back. You see him leave, panicking once again that Death will get
to the man before he returns. You already saw Death kill a man right in front of you, you don’t
know if you can handle it being someone you know.

The world around you is still out of focus, the monochromatic features of the book melting into the
very real potions classroom around you. You see Professor Sharp pouring something into his
cauldron before covering it, the smell of death lessening as he moves the cauldron into his
storeroom and shuts the door behind him.

Soon Professor Sharp is back in front of you, his voice still muffled but not being drowned out any
longer by the other sensations around you. You frantically look around to find any evidence of
Death looming over you both before Professor Sharp snaps his fingers in front of your face.

“Focus on me.” Professor Sharp firmly states, your eyes snapping to look at the man rather than the
still blurred world around you. He once again moves in an exaggerated way, encouraging you to
regulate your breathing. You try to emulate the man, breaths still shallow as you cannot get enough
air in.

You are shaking intensely, the sensation only adding to your panic as you fail to do as he instructs.
Once again, Professor Sharp takes a deep breath, this time with his hands on your shoulders as he
urges you to copy him. His grip is firm, and you feel the shaking in your shoulders slightly
decrease as he applies pressure.

You take another ragged breath, this time a bit deeper as Professor Sharp nods his head
encouragingly. You continue to mimic the man, Professor Sharp taking longer and longer inhales
as you succeed in copying him. Eventually you feel as though the panic has passed, slumping
against the wall in exhaustion as Professor Sharp remains in front of you.

“Sorry.” You weakly offer, the man reeling back as though you have struck him. He has an
expression you can’t quite place, never seeing it on his face before.

“Can you stand?” He stiffly asks, his face still twisted strangely as you nod in response. He offers
you a hand, pulling you to your feet before wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He directs you
towards his desk before nudging you into his chair, opting to lean on his desk beside you.

You slump down in the large chair, not having the energy to sit up straight at the moment. It was
surprisingly comfortable, seeming to give more support than the chair would initially appear to
have. Professor Sharp does suffer from chronic pain, perhaps the chair is enchanted?
You look up at the man. He is leaning against the desk, body turned towards the right of the room
with his head looking out towards the door. He is focused on the closed door for a moment before
crossing his arms and looking back towards you. His face is a mixture of anger and concern, you
decide. The intensity of his concerned eyes is only matched by the hard frown he has fixed on his
face.

You look away, opting to stare down at your hands as you pick at your fingernails. You tense up as
you notice the blood underneath your nails, quickly looking at Professor Sharp’s hands. His right
hand has deep gashes across the top, spanning from his pinky towards his thumb. He looks down
to follow your gaze before sighing deeply.

“Don’t worry about it. I’d rather you claw my hands than bash your head against a stone wall.” He
says, uncharacteristically gentle as he conjures a chair near you. He stands up straight, pushing
himself off the table before sitting down in the new chair.

He grimaces as he rubs his leg, taking the pressure off of it before pulling a potion from his pocket
and quickly downing it. You watch as the scratches disappear and he shakes out his leg, realizing
that you must have pulled Professor Sharp harshly onto the ground earlier in your panic.

You eye his leg, tears filling your eyes as you are wracked with guilt. Professor Sharp pockets the
empty vial before looking at you, his eyes widening at the display of emotion. You harshly wipe at
your face, the tears coming down harder as he stares on in his own form of distress.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-'' You blurt, tears obstructing your vision as you gesture at his leg.

“I told you not to worry about it.” He carefully replies, clearly out of his element. You figure
emotional support isn’t something the former Auror has a lot of practice in. He lets out another
long sigh before reaching into his pockets once again.

You feel him nudge something into your hand, a white handkerchief being offered by the man.
You continue to sniffle as you wipe away your tears, gripping the handkerchief afterwards as you
once again make an effort to calm yourself. Professor Sharp doesn’t move to retrieve the fabric,
instead looking away towards the door in an attempt to give you privacy. A tense silence stretches
between you both, only to be broken by your occasional sniffle.

“Whatever it is that frightened you, you need to tell me.” Professor Sharp prompts, his gravelly
voice taking on a bit of an edge as you continue to breathe deeply in an effort to push away the last
of your tears. You stiffen at his words and look over at the man, trying to figure out what you can
say to get out of this new interrogation. Professor Sharp looks back at you, his face still holding
deep concern as he continues speaking.

“If you are in danger I can help you. You’re safe here at Hogwarts, just tell me what happened.”
He adds, his tone earnest as he stares at you.

You find yourself involuntarily shaking your head in response. The third trial took place at
Hogwarts, who's to say there isn’t anything else that can hurt you in these ancient walls? What
could you even tell him without needing to divulge everything you have done for the Keepers? It is
too much, and you are not meant to tell anyone per your mentor’s instructions. Professor Fig didn’t
even want you spending time with the Auror at all, let alone have a panic attack in his classroom.

“No? Did something happen here?” He asks, his voice now holding a threatening edge to it. You
forcefully shake your head no as you make eye contact with the man. He crosses his arms once
again, his eyes still expressing a concern his voice doesn’t even match.
“No, sir.” You rush to respond, Professor Sharp only looking more unsettled at your actions. You
both sit in silence for a moment, you trying to avoid the guilt stemming from his concern, and
Professor Sharp clearly calculating the best way to approach getting more information.

“What is it that set you off in the first place?” He asks, trying a different approach. You eye him
suspiciously, knowing that if anyone knows how to run an interrogation it would be him. He looks
back at you, face still so painfully earnest. The only thing more intimidating than an angry
Professor Sharp is a sympathetic one, it seems.

“The smell.” You mumble, looking back down at the handkerchief in your hands. “The stench of
the dead was…really strong.”

“Yes, it was.” He confirms, sounding more patient than he has ever been in class. You can tell he
is still staring, practically burning holes in the side of your head, but you still can’t make eye
contact with him. You know it would only make the lie you need to tell harder.

“I- I recently encountered a lot of inferi and I guess it still has me shaken up.” You mumble. You
can’t tell him the truth, but perhaps a similar lie will work as it did the last time you found yourself
in this situation.

You glance up at the man, only to meet his disappointed gaze. Professor Sharp leans forwards a bit
in his chair, elbow resting on the table as he rests his chin in his hand. He would almost appear
casual if it weren’t for the suspicious look he had. You both sit in silence once more, as the former
Auror is deep in thought.

“I understand what it’s like.” Professor Sharp begins, no longer looking at you but rather pointedly
looking at his Auror Badge between you both. “When I went on my last investigation as an Auror, I
barely escaped with my life.”

You turn your head in confusion towards the man, wondering where he is going with this. You
know the story, as you have asked him about it before. While your questions didn’t seem to bother
the man at the time, there is a vulnerability in his tone that was definitely missing back then.

“It happened at Scarborough Harbour. Being near ships, let alone even near large bodies of water
afterwards…well I know what it’s like to feel like you are going to die all over again.” He once
again redirected his gaze towards you, his eyes conveying an understanding that you cannot turn
away from. You feel your throat tighten once again, tears pricking at your already puffy eyes.

“I know that type of fear. I really do want to help you, but you aren’t telling me the truth.” He
presses, gesturing once again towards the handkerchief in your hand as a tear escapes you.

You quickly wipe away the tear, moving to fiddle with the fabric in your hands as you look away
from the man next to you. You have made it this far with just the support of Professor Fig, and
unless there is a secret fifth Keeper, you know you are almost through all the trials. You only need
to hold out a bit longer.

“I- I can’t tell you right now.” You whisper, your voice coming out rather defeated. “It’s not
something I can really explain, I just-” You cut yourself off, trying to find the words to explain
why you can’t spill your guts to the man. To his credit, Professor Sharp doesn’t say anything,
patiently waiting for you to finish your thoughts.

“I thought I was going to die the day I came to Hogwarts. I saw Mr. Osric’s final moments, and
encountering death like that has made everything seem worse. It feels like every time something
happens to me, it is going to be the last thing I face.”
“I told you once that survival is not guaranteed for any of us. It is unfortunate that you have learned
this younger than most. Whatever it is you’re dealing with, it shouldn’t be your responsibility to do
so alone.” Professor Sharp softly replied.

“What made it better? When did the fear go away?” You ask, catching the man slightly off guard
with your question. He looks deep in thought for a moment, eyes trained on the window behind
you as he forms his answer.

“It’s hard to say. As you get older, you realize that certain things are out of your control. Bad intel
leads to you walking into a trap, bad advice leads to you walking into danger. Either way, we have
to make do with the results and make an effort to change moving forward.” He responds, looking
rather pointedly at you with his last statement. He looks as though he is bracing himself before
speaking once again.

“If this is all something Professor Fig has you wrapped up in, I can untangle you from it. Simply
ask and I’ll put an end to it.” He adds, placing a hand on your shoulder in an effort to show his
support.

You are fighting an internal struggle here. No matter what you can think to say, you know you
won’t be able to convince Professor Sharp it’s the truth. However, if you do tell him the truth there
is no telling what will happen next. The echoes of his argument with Professor Fig enter your
mind.

‘I will discover whatever it is you are hiding, and if it involves that student in any way, I will put an
end to it.’

No. You cannot let him stop you. Fighting Ranrok is something you have to do, not only for your
own safety but the safety of the rest of wizardkind.

“I appreciate the offer, Professor, but there isn’t anything to untangle me from.” You respond,
voice coming out far more confident than you feel. Professor Sharp retracts his hand, once again
crossing his arms and looking at you with an expression of disbelief.

“Matilda was right, getting any information out of you is like trying to get a sonnet from a
Streeler.” He mutters, his attitude causing a slight smile to make its way to your face.

He and Professor Fig would probably get along if it weren’t for the tension you caused. You can
imagine them throwing sarcasm at each other with ease. Professor Sharp looks at you, his mood
only souring more as he sees you are finding amusement in his frustration.

“Can you at the very least promise me something?” He sternly asks, causing the smile to fall off
your face as you sit up straighter, slightly tense as you nod for him to continue. “Promise me that if
whatever it is Fig isn’t putting you up to gets to be too much, you’ll come to me? No matter how
dangerous it is, I will help you out of it.”

While he says it in his usual stern tone from class, you can tell he is genuinely concerned. His offer
almost comes out as a declaration there is so much conviction behind it. All you can do is nod in
response, another unamused eyebrow raise thrown your way.

“Yes sir, I promise.” You respond, your voice betraying how much the request really means to
you. Even if he is frustrated that you aren’t willing to divulge all your secrets, Professor Sharp is
still offering his support. He looks at you for a moment longer, still unsatisfied with how the
conversation went but appearing slightly reassured at your promise. He finally breaks eye contact
with you, pulling out his pocket watch to check the time.
“We still have time to work on a potion before dinner.” He comments, his more casual attitude
returning once more now that your interrogation has ended. You are reminded of the same feeling
of whiplash you got after eavesdropping on him and Professor Fig. It seems Professor Sharp is
quite talented when it comes to controlling his emotions, something you think you should work on.

“What are we going to brew, sir?” You nervously ask. While the smell of the last potion has
dissipated, you swear you can still detect the stench of the dead in the air. While you know this
new sensitivity is something you will need to address sooner rather than later, you aren't sure if
you have the mental fortitude to try again at this moment. Professor Sharp moves towards your
usual potion station, gesturing for you to follow as he conjures another cauldron.

“Don’t worry, we can work on your tolerance for certain ingredients later. For now, I think that
learning something new might benefit you.” Professor Sharp reassures you, moving towards his
storeroom leaving you behind. He returns with several ingredients, the lavender catching your
attention in particular.

“The potion for Dreamless Sleep is one that is more advanced, but I think it’s something you can
handle brewing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you shuffling around these halls at all hours of the
night. You look as though you haven’t slept in days.” He chides, handing you a sprig of lavender to
crush as he carefully removes the leaves from some wormwood next to you.

The familiarity of potion making washes over you as you carefully follow Professor Sharp’s
instructions, the sounds of boiling liquid and grinding ingredients filling the comfortable silence
between you both. He only needed to correct your stirring technique once before he was confident
you could handle finishing the potion under his watchful eye.

At the end of it you have a bubbling cauldron of swirling purple liquid, the smell inviting and
slightly earthy as you and Professor Sharp carefully bottle the potion. He takes a vial for himself,
pushing the remaining five in your direction. You pocket them carefully as Professor Sharp moves
to clean up the mess. He vanishes the cauldron, transporting it to wherever they are cleaned. You
move to help him, gathering the discarded materials and dumping them in a nearby bin.

“If you don’t take advanced potions next year, I will be incredibly disappointed.” Professor Sharp
informs you, looking somewhat prideful at the potion in his hand. He swirls it around, nodding in
approval at the potion’s consistency before pocketing it.

“I was already planning on it, sir.” You confirm, returning to your potions station.

“These vials are on the larger side, so you should take only one vial around an hour before bed.
You may be tempted to drink more, but don’t. The amount you consume correlates to the amount
of time you sleep, any more than that and you will be missing whatever morning classes you have.”
He warns, his face turning serious as he discusses the specifics with you.

You make sure to give an affirmative nod to the man, hoping that he can tell you are taking his
warning seriously. Missing morning classes would mean either skipping Potions or skipping
Herbology. You would never miss out on Professor Garlick’s class as you genuinely enjoy caring
for plants, and you know that missing Professor Sharp’s class would be one of the last mistakes
you make.

Professor Sharp must see the gears turning in your head, his lips quirking up for a moment in
amusement before settling back in his usual serious expression.

“Good. Don’t go brewing this on your own either. When you run out, come back and we can brew
a larger batch together. While you succeeded in brewing it with my help, I don’t want you
 attempting advanced potions alone without supervision.” He sternly states, gesturing for you to
follow him as he walks towards the door.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but do not plan on missing tonight’s roast. I heard it is something
special the house-elves whipped up to send students off before their winter holiday.” Professor
Sharp comments, easy conversation falling between the two of you as you make your way towards
the Great Hall.

The mood is lighter between the two of you, the suffocating fear from early almost entirely absent
by the time you open the doors and smell the grand meal that is awaiting you. Professor Sharp
gives you a nod before gesturing for you to go to your house table. You make sure to flash a smile
at the man before scampering off, a small smile on the former Auror's face as he makes his way to
his own seat.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter definitely had the most revision, I actually rewrote the second half
multiple times trying to figure out how to end it without needing to confess to Sharp.
While the idea could work, I think it would overcomplicate the fourth trial too much.

Don't worry though! Professor Sharp being unaware of the trials means I still have
some interesting ideas for the future!

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