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Chapter Text

Emilius Ravophine (Slytherin)

Background: Son of Roderick Ravophine, a legendary Auror, and a Veela mother. Born in brilliance but chose to live in the shadows.

Appearance: Long golden hair, deep green eyes, always wears enchanted black-rimmed glasses to hide the lethal beauty of his Veela heritage.

Personality: Detached, cynical, razor-sharp intellect yet disinterested in almost everything. Hides immense magical power and can perform wandless spells.

Strengths: Magical prodigy, exceptional Quidditch Chaser, quick thinker with piercing insight into others.

Weaknesses: Emotionally distant, isolates himself. Once gentle, now closed off and afraid to be hurt again.

Sirius Black (Gryffindor)

Background: Eldest son of the noble House of Black, a pure-blood family obsessed with blood purity. The family’s black sheep: rebellious, defiant, and disowned.

Appearance: Long black hair, storm-gray eyes, a mix of aristocratic grace and wild charm.

Personality: Bold, arrogant, fiercely loyal. Beneath the swagger lies a heart that burns for the people he loves.

Strengths: One of the most gifted wizards at Hogwarts; clever and cunning in pranks and duels.

Weaknesses: Impulsive instincts often lead to rash choices. His pride and temper are easily provoked.

James Potter (Gryffindor): Confident, loud, and proud. The mastermind of every prank, but also brave and deeply loyal. Despises Slytherin, especially Snape and Emilius, who manages to hold more of Sirius’s attention than any prank ever could.

Remus Lupin (Gryffindor): Gentle, thoughtful, and the group’s moral compass. Often mediates when Sirius and James clash with Emilius. Quietly observant, he senses what’s truly happening between the two.

Pegasus “Pony” Grey (Gryffindor): Emilius’s childhood friend. Red hair, ocean-blue eyes, and a radiant, sunny personality. A Marauder member yet remains loyal to Emilius, much to James’s irritation.

Hayden Alert (Hufflepuff): Emilius’s other close friend. Naive, kind-hearted, often dragged into trouble but always protected by Emilius.

Dracy Gallard (Ravenclaw): Once a close friend of Emilius, now estranged due to prejudice against Slytherins. Proud, sharp-tongued, and the only person who can truly get under Emilius’s skin.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts, 1973–1974

The sky hung low and gray, heavy with the promise of rain. Out on the Quidditch pitch, students crowded near the stands, buzzing with anticipation for the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was, as always, the match of the year, fueled not just by the ancient rivalry between the two Houses, but also by the equally fiery tempers of their players.

From the moment he first set foot in Hogwarts, Emilius Ravophine had tried to live quietly: keeping his head down, avoiding unnecessary attention. But ever since he joined the Slytherin Quidditch team in his third year, that plan had gone straight to hell.

He didn’t like standing out. Unfortunately, he was far too good to be ignored. One game was all it took. Suddenly everyone knew his name: Emilius Ravophine, the Chaser with the freakishly precise flying and the kind of saves that made Gryffindors want to set their brooms on fire.

And the loudest ones complaining? James Potter and Sirius Black, of course.

“A bloody Slytherin playing that well? You’ve got to be joking.”

Sirius scowled, arms crossed as he lounged on one of the sofas in the Gryffindor common room. Beside him, James looked just as irritated, his already-messy hair somehow even more disheveled when he was angry.

“Unbelievable,” James muttered. “Never even heard of the bloke before, and suddenly he shows up and ruins our match.”

Remus Lupin turned a page in his book and said mildly,

“Maybe he’s always been good. Just decided to show it now.”

James rolled his eyes.

“Still. He’s a Slytherin, Moony. I was half-expecting him to cheat so I’d have a reason to get him banned, but no, he played cleaner than me.”

Sirius smirked.“Think his father’s disappointed? Must sting, having your son Sorted into the House you’ve spent your life fighting against.”

A sharp voice cut through their laughter.

“Could you not talk trash about my friend for five minutes?”

All three boys turned. Pegasus Grey, better known as Pony, stood at the doorway, arms crossed, blue eyes glinting coldly.

James raised an eyebrow. “Oh, look who’s here. Explains where you’ve been sneaking off to.”

“Where I go isn’t your business, James.” Pony’s tone was icy. “But I don’t appreciate you lot dragging my friend’s name through the mud.”

Sirius leaned back, grin widening. “We’re your mates, Pony. But lately you’re glued to that Slytherin like he’s Merlin’s gift.”

Pony’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be friends with whoever I want. And frankly, Emilius is a damn sight more decent than either of you.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left,leaving behind a fuming James Potter, fists clenched tight.

----------------------------

Emilius preferred the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, the ones where few bothered to look his way. But today, something felt… off.That sixth sense, the instinct of a skilled wizard, whispered danger. He stopped. And just as he turned, a flash of spellfire streaked toward him.

"Protego."

The shield charm shimmered to life, deflecting the hex with a hiss. At the end of the corridor, two figures emerged from the shadows.

James Potter. Sirius Black.

James smirked. “Quick one, aren’t you? Didn’t think a Slytherin could move that fast.”

Emilius frowned.

“I don’t have time for your childish games.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Sirius drawled, eyes glinting. “You’re supposed to be brilliant, right? Show us a bit of that talent, star Chaser of Slytherin.”

Emilius sighed. “What exactly is your problem with me?”

James scoffed.

“Just wanted to see if you really deserve that reputation.”

Emilius met their gaze: cold, steady.

Childish. Arrogant. Infuriating.

He hated people like them.

Sirius chuckled. “Relax, Ravophine. Just wanted to see if the rumors were true. You’re supposed to be a prodigy, right?”

Emilius sighed, bored already.

“If this is your idea of a social call, it’s pathetic.”

“We just want to see if you earned that reputation,” James said, wand twirling between his fingers.

“Or if it’s just hot air,” Sirius added, smirking.

Emilius looked at them, expression unreadable.

“You two done compensating for something, or should I let you finish first?”

Silence. Then Sirius barked a laugh.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, Slytherin.”

“Yeah,” Emilius said, deadpan. “It’s called having a personality. You should try it sometime.”

The grin slipped from Sirius’s face. He really hated people like Emilius Ravophine.

Too calm. Too sharp. Too smug. And far too good at making him feel like the idiot in the room.

Without a word of warning, Emilius raised his wand, hand moving so fast Sirius and James didn’t even have time to react.

“Expelliarmus.”

Both wands flew from their hands and clattered against the cold stone floor.

James’s eyes went wide. Sirius looked just as stunned. What the hell just happened?

They were two of the strongest duelists in Gryffindor, yet they’d been disarmed in less than a second.

Emilius stepped forward, his green eyes glacial.

“You’re not my match,” he said quietly, voice flat and low. “Stop wasting my time.”

Then he turned and walked away without a glance back.

James and Sirius stood frozen, speechless. For the first time, someone had completely humiliated them. And that only made them hate Emilius Ravophine more.

---------------------------

It wasn’t even a Slytherin match, but Emilius still ended up in the stands. Pegasus had begged him to come, and Hayden wouldn’t stop talking about some magical creature he swore he saw in the forest.

Big mistake.

They had just found seats when a loud voice called out from the upper rows.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Slytherin’s golden boy. Didn’t think you’d stoop low enough to watch us play.”

Emilius froze mid-step.
Sirius Black. Of course.Leaning on the railing like he owned the place, with James Potter next to him, both wearing matching smug grins.

Hayden blinked. “Is… he talking to you?”

A few Gryffindors snickered. Most just pretended not to hear.

“Sirius,” Remus said under his breath. “Don’t.”

But Sirius never did know when to stop. Emilius exhaled slowly, then walked up the steps, calm, deliberate. When he stopped, he was standing right in front of Sirius.

“Did I give you permission to talk to me?”

The grin slid off Sirius’s face.

James frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Pegasus muttered, “Oh, Merlin. He’s doing the thing again.”

Emilius didn’t even glance at James. His eyes stayed locked on Sirius: sharp, flat, and deeply unimpressed.

“You’re loud,” he said quietly. “You should work on that. It makes people think you’re smarter than you are.”

A few students nearby sucked in a breath. Sirius blinked, thrown off for half a second, then smirked, trying to recover.

“Cute. Guess you think being an arrogant prick counts as personality, huh?”

Emilius smiled faintly, but his eyes didn’t.

“Says the guy whose entire personality is following Potter around and laughing at his jokes.”

James’s jaw dropped. Sirius’s grin cracked. Remus muttered, “And there it is.”

Pegasus folded his arms. “Told you. Should’ve left him alone.”

James stepped forward, face red.

“Watch your mouth, snake!”

Emilius didn’t blink.

“Why? Planning to borrow it too?”

That did it. Sirius’s temper flared, but for once he couldn’t find a comeback fast enough. That calm, unbothered stare, it crawled under his skin. Because it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anger. It was disinterest.

And Sirius Black hated being ignored more than anything.

-------------------------------

“Why do you do that?” Pegasus hissed, dragging Emilius out of the stands. “You can’t just roast Gryffindor’s golden boys in front of everyone!”

“They spoke first,” Emilius said simply, adjusting his glasses.

Hayden nodded “Yeah, they did start it.”

Pegasus groaned. “That’s not the point! You called James Potter and Sirius Black idiots. In public!”

““I was being generous,” Emilius replied, deadpan. “I don’t see the problem.”

Pegasus just stared at him. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

------------------------------------

The chair went flying.

“I HATE THAT BLOODY SNAKE!”

Remus barely looked up from his book. One lazy flick of his wand, and the chair pieced itself back together.

“Yeah,” he said dryly, “kinda got that vibe.”

Sirius didn’t say a word. He just sat there, jaw tight, eyes dark.

Because the truth was, he had never met anyone who got under his skin quite like Emilius Ravophine. He’d fought with Slytherins before, hexed them, pranked them, gotten detentions for it. But that one? That quiet, unreadable bastard?

Unshakeable.
Unbothered.
Unreachable.

And somehow, that made Sirius want to break something.

---------------

Day One

Lunch. Great Hall.

Sirius tipped an entire glass of pumpkin juice right onto Ravophine’s perfectly pressed uniform.

Collective gasp.

Emilius blinked once, set down his spoon, glanced down at himself, then drew his wand.

“Tergeo.”

The stain vanished. He picked up his spoon again. Didn’t even look at Sirius.

Sirius just stood there, dripping smugness that instantly curdled into frustration.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

----------------

Day Two

East corridor, between classes.

James whispered a charm and Emilius’s books went shooting into the air, papers flying everywhere. It looked spectacular for about five seconds: until Emilius calmly raised his wand.

“Accio.”

Everything snapped right back into a neat, perfect pile in his hands. No glare. No reaction. Just… composure.

He turned on his heel and walked off.

“Bloody hell,” James muttered. “He’s like, broken inside or something.”

Sirius’s teeth clicked.

“Nah. I’ll get to him. Just watch.”

-------------------

Day Three

Quidditch practice.

Sirius slipped a tiny jinx on Emilius’s broom, just enough to make it spin out midair. For a few seconds, it worked. Then Emilius corrected it like it was nothing, pulled off a clean midair loop, and called down—

“Cheers. Didn’t know it could do that.”

Pegasus Grey laughed so hard he nearly fell off the stands. Sirius saw red.

------------------------------

Day Four

Sunny afternoon. Everyone hanging by the Quidditch pitch.

Sirius had one goal: make that perfect, smug, too-calm Slytherin crack.

“Hey, Ravophine.”

No answer.

“What’s it like,” Sirius called, “being the family disappointment?”

That stopped him.

James chimed in, voice sharp.

“Bet your dad’s proud, huh? Big-name Auror, famous hero, and his son ends up in Slytherin. Bet that went down well at dinner.”

The crowd started murmuring. Remus looked up, warning in his voice.

“Sirius, James—don’t.”

Too late.

Emilius reached into his robe pocket, pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Tapped it with his wand.

A deep, warm voice echoed out of it:

“My dear son, congratulations on Slytherin. The House doesn’t matter, just do your best. I’m proud of you.
—Roderick Ravophine.”

And the world went silent.

Sirius’s stomach dropped. James froze. Even the onlookers were stunned.

No anger. No shame. Just… love.

Sirius’s chest tightened. He hated it. Hated how it made him feel. Hayden, watching from the stands, muttered under his breath.

“Wrong guy to mess with, lads.”

-----------------

That night, Sirius didn’t sleep. He stared at the ceiling, fists clenched, replaying that voice in his head.

‘ House doesn’t matter.’

His own mother’s words had been the opposite, screams, curses, cold eyes. Regulus turning away. No one had told him they were proud. No one had said it didn’t matter. And now this smug Slytherin had the one thing Sirius never got: a father who loved him no matter what.

It burned.

He wanted to break him.He needed to break him.

----------------------------

The Next Evening

Pegasus caught him halfway to the pitch.

“If you’re going after Emil again, don’t.”

Sirius smirked.

“Relax, Pony. I just want to talk.”

“Yeah, sure you do.”

He went anyway.

Emilius was there, cleaning his broom, minding his own business.

“Ravophine.”
No answer.

Sirius snatched the broom from his hands.

“Oi. I’m talking to you.”

Those green eyes finally lifted, cold, bored, like Sirius was the world’s most annoying insect.

“Give it back.”

Sirius smiled, mocking.

“What, can’t play without it?”

“Give. It. Back.”

“Come on, you’re the genius here. Take it.”

Emilius sighed. Actually sighed.It hit Sirius like a slap.

“What, embarrassed? Dad’s an Auror, and you still ended up in Slytherin—”

Emilius’s expression didn’t flicker. He just tilted his head.

“Trying to sound clever, Black?”

A beat.

“You should try harder.”

Sirius froze.

Emilius took the broom, dusted off his robes, and walked off, like Sirius wasn’t even worth the breath. And that, somehow, hurt more than any insult could.

----------------------

“Levicorpus!”

Snape flipped upside down, robes over his head, pale legs kicking.
Laughter exploded.

James Potter was grinning like a maniac.

“Nice look, Snivellus!”

No one intervened. No one ever did, until:

“Put him down.”

Every head turned.

Emilius stood there. Calm. Steady. But his voice cut like ice.

“Oh, look,” James sneered. “The snake talks.”

“You defending him now?” Sirius taunted.

“Put him down.”

“Who the hell do you think you—”

“Finite Incantatem.”

James’s wand jerked. Snape crashed to the ground.

Emilius hadn’t even raised his wand, just snapped his fingers.

Silence.

Sirius’s stomach twisted.

Emilius looked at them both, eyes full of quiet disgust.

“Pathetic,” he said softly.
“Two bored idiots pretending it’s fun to hurt people.”
“You’re not clever. You’re not brave. You’re just cruel.”

He turned away, checked that Snape was fine, and walked off, leaving them frozen, humiliated, and, for once, completely speechless.

Sirius Black had never been talked to like that before. Not once.

He couldn’t stand it, the way Emilius looked at him, like he wasn’t even worth the effort. That quiet contempt in those green eyes cut deeper than any spell. It made Sirius feel… small. And he hated that.

James wasn’t doing any better. Both of them just stood there in the corridor, stunned, trying to process the fact that a Slytherin, a bloody Slytherin, had just humiliated them in front of half the school.

And the worst part?

No one disagreed with him.
No laughter, no defense, no one saying Emilius was wrong. Because everyone knew he wasn’t.

---------------------

“That smug bastard!” James shouted, throwing a book across the room.

Sirius was pacing.

“Even Snivellus doesn’t mouth off like that.”

Pegasus shut his own book with a sigh.

“You kinda deserved it.”

James glared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You hexed a guy upside down in front of everyone. Emil just said what everyone else was thinking.”

“He’s a Slytherin!” Sirius snapped. "They’re all cowards anyway!”

Pegasus arched a brow.

“So what? I’m his friend. You gonna call me that too?”

That shut James up real quick.

Among the group, Pegasus had always been closest to James and Sirius, partners in crime, chaos trio with Remus as the voice of reason. But things had shifted the moment James found out Pegasus was friends with Ravophine. He didn’t join their pranks on Slytherins. He didn’t laugh along when they mocked them. And now, he wasn’t even hiding which side he was on.

Pegasus stood,

“I’ve told you before, James. You two go too far. Emil’s not someone you can push around.”

He looked between them,

“And today, he proved it.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, the Great Hall was alive with the usual noise, clattering cutlery, the rustle of owl wings, the buzz of gossip that never really stopped at Hogwarts. But today, there was something different in the air. The whispers were sharper, the glances more deliberate, and they all seemed to dart toward one corner of the Slytherin table.

At the center of it all sat Emilius Ravophine, calm as ever, sipping tea like the chaos around him didn’t exist. The entire school had already heard what happened yesterday: how he’d made James Potter and Sirius Black shut up in front of half the castle. For most students, that was the kind of story you’d pass down to your grandkids. For Emilius, it was barely breakfast.

He turned a page in his book, expression perfectly neutral, as if he hadn’t just humiliated the two loudest Gryffindors in existence.

The doors swung open with a heavy thud. Heads turned.

Sirius Black entered, and suddenly the chatter dipped, like the temperature had dropped a few degrees. His stride was sharp, angry, the kind that said don’t talk to me unless you have a death wish. His storm-grey eyes scanned the Hall, landed on Emilius, and darkened instantly.

James trailed beside him, already scowling, Remus trailing like a babysitter who’s already done with life. Pegasus Grey crossed his arms, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips like he’d seen this trainwreck coming a mile away.

Sirius didn’t stop until he reached the Slytherin table. He leaned forward, palms on the polished wood, blocking out the light.

“Enjoying yourself, Ravophine?”

Emilius didn’t even glance up. He took another slow sip, set the cup down neatly, then raised his eyes, bored and heavy-lidded.

“What?”

The audacity of it, quiet, unbothered, perfectly measured, made Sirius’s jaw tighten.

“Yesterday,” he said through his teeth. “You think that was funny?”

Emilius finally straightened up a little, resting his chin on one hand as he studied Sirius like he was a particularly slow student in class.

“Funny? No.” He shrugged. “Just true. You two really are idiots.”

A few gasps. A few snickers. Someone at the Ravenclaw table choked on their pumpkin juice.

James went crimson. Sirius’s hand twitched dangerously close to his wand.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” Sirius hissed.

Emilius stifled a yawn. “Clever? Nah. Just not as stupid.”

That one landed like a spell to the chest. The laughter spread this time, low, uncontrollable, like people couldn’t help themselves.

James was halfway to standing when Pegasus’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist firmly. “Don’t,” he muttered. “You’ll just make it worse.”

Sirius could feel heat crawl up his neck. It wasn’t even the insult that got to him, he’d been insulted plenty of times before. It was the look.

That calm, dismissive look that said you don’t matter. He’d seen plenty of hatred, plenty of arrogance, but never this. This was worse.

Emilius turned away, completely done with the conversation, and went back to his tea. Like Sirius Black, notorious troublemaker, self-proclaimed heartthrob, pureblood rebel, wasn’t even worth his time.

Sirius’s nails dug into the edge of the table. He wanted to shout, to hex something, anything. But he didn’t. He just stood there, frozen in fury, while the Slytherins pretended not to smirk. Sirius Black did not lose.

At least, that’s what he liked to believe.

He was still fuming when movement at the entrance caught his eyes, and suddenly, so was Emilius.

In an instant, that calm mask shattered. The lazy disinterest vanished, replaced by something Sirius had never seen from him before: fury.

Sirius followed his gaze and spotted the reason.

Dracy Gallard.

Beautiful , sharp, and infuriatingly put-together, all pale blond hair and icy blue eyes, the kind of face that looked like it had been carved just to be smug. A Ravenclaw through and through, the type who’d correct your grammar while hexing you.

Sirius might’ve ignored him, but Emilius sure didn’t. The shift was unmistakable, the lazy calm replaced by something darker. Anger, yes, but something heavier too.

Dracy’s lips curled the moment he spotted Emilius. “Well, if it isn’t Ravophine,” he said smoothly, loud enough for nearby tables to hear. “Making a scene again, are we?”

The spoon in Emilius’s hand stilled. Then, without even looking up, he said quietly, “Fuck off.”

Sirius blinked. Whoa. That’s new.

Dracy chuckled, taking a few slow steps closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, though Sirius still caught every word.

“Still hung up about the past, huh? Honestly, Emilius, I thought you’d outgrow it by now.”

For a heartbeat, Emilius didn’t move. Then his knuckles whitened around the spoon. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut. But instead of exploding like everyone expected, Emilius just gave a low, cold laugh.

“Please,” he said softly, “you’re not worth it.”

The words hit harder than any curse.

For the briefest second, something flickered in Dracy’s expression,surprise, maybe even guilt, before he smoothed it over with a smirk. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ravophine.”

He turned and walked away, his robes swishing behind him like he owned the damn place. But Sirius caught it, that look over the shoulder. That little flash of something that didn’t match his tone. And when he glanced back at Emilius, the Slytherin was still sitting there, eyes locked on the empty doorway, gripping his spoon so hard it looked like it might snap.

This wasn’t just hate.

It was history.

Something deep and bitter and personal, the kind of thing that doesn’t fade with time.

Sirius leaned back, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Well.

That was interesting.

--------------------

After that awkwardly tense breakfast, Sirius made a beeline for the Quidditch pitch, partly because he needed to walk it off, partly because he knew exactly who he’d find there.

Sure enough, Pegasus Grey was sprawled across the benches like a cat in the sun, red hair catching every bit of light. His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, face tilted toward the sky with the kind of peace Sirius hadn’t known since third year.

When Sirius dropped down beside him, the bench creaked. Pony cracked an eye open and groaned.
“What do you want now, Padfoot?”

Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice low. “I want to know what the hell’s going on between Ravophine and Dracy Gallard.”

That woke Pony right up. He sat up straight, eyes narrowing. “Why do you care?”

Sirius shrugged. “Because I’ve never seen Ravophine lose his cool like that. Not once. I mean, James and I’ve trying to piss him off, and all we ever get is that bored, ‘you’re beneath me’ look. But one glance at Gallard and boom, instant murder face. So yeah, I’m curious.”

Pony studied him for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether this was a trap. Finally, he sighed.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, Sirius. But if it’s just curiosity, fine. It’s not like it’s a secret anyway, those two wear their history like a scar.”

He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head.
“Emilius and Dracy used to be best friends.”

Sirius blinked. “What, friends friends?”

“Yeah. The real deal. Practically attached at the hip. Both from old families, both smart enough to make everyone else look stupid. The kind of pair you’d expect to grow up ruling the world together.” Pony snorted softly. “Then Emilius got sorted into Slytherin, and everything went to hell.”

Sirius frowned. “Let me guess, Gallard’s one of those ‘Slytherin = evil’ types?”

“Worse,” Pony said flatly. “He couldn’t stand the idea that his best mate ended up in the ‘wrong’ House. They had a huge fight, I mean screaming fight. Emilius actually yelled at him. First and only time I’ve ever seen him lose control.”

For a moment, Sirius didn’t say anything. He could almost see it, two boys who used to be inseparable, standing on opposite sides of that ridiculous House divide.
It hit a little too close to home.

Pony’s voice softened. “After that, Emilius just… cut him off. Like Gallard didn’t exist. But trust me, it still eats at him. Not because Gallard dumped him, but because he did it for something so bloody shallow.”

Sirius leaned back, staring at the grass. He’d thought Ravophine was just another arrogant Slytherin who thought too highly of himself, but maybe not. Maybe he’d just learned the hard way not to give a damn about anyone.

And that, Sirius understood all too well.

“Does Gallard regret it?” Sirius asked quietly.

Pony smirked without humor. “What do you think?”

Sirius remembered the look on Gallard’s face that morning, that flicker of something when Ravophine told him to get lost. It hadn’t been hate. It had been… messier than that.

And Sirius, being Sirius, couldn’t resist messy.

He spent the rest of the day thinking about it, not that he’d admit it to anyone.

Normally, he couldn’t care less about other people’s drama, but this one stuck. Maybe because he could see bits of himself in it, that feeling of being rejected for something you couldn’t change.

The difference was, Sirius had chosen to burn the bridge. Ravophine hadn’t. He’d wanted to keep it standing, and that’s what made it hurt.

You only hated people that much when they’d once mattered to you.

And once Sirius noticed, he couldn’t unsee it.

Gallard was always there. Not talking to Emilius, not even close enough to make it obvious, but close enough to watch. Always watching. Pretending not to.

It wasn’t just guilt. It was something heavier.

Sirius smirked to himself. This could be fun.

He didn’t like Ravophine, far from it, but if there was a way to mess with him, he’d take it. And what better way than through the one person guaranteed to get under his skin?

So when Sirius spotted Dracy Gallard sitting alone in the library that afternoon, flipping through some dull Ravenclaw nonsense, he didn’t hesitate.

He dropped into the chair opposite him, propped his chin on one hand, and stared until Gallard finally looked up.

“What?” Dracy asked flatly.

Sirius grinned. “You still like Ravophine, don’t you?”

Gallard froze, just for a heartbeat, before his expression hardened. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius drawled. “Don’t act like I can’t tell. You’re practically haunting the guy. Always in the same corridor, same class, same bloody hallway. If that’s not guilt, it’s obsession.”

Gallard’s jaw tightened. “You really have nothing better to do?”

Sirius tilted his head, smirk widening. “Not when it’s this entertaining. Let me guess, you’re just waiting for him to stop hating you. Waiting for the perfect moment to crawl back and apologize.”

The thud of Gallard slamming his book shut echoed through the room. He stood, glaring down at Sirius with those cold blue eyes. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Sirius just leaned back, lazy grin never faltering. “Didn’t think you did. But you didn’t deny it, either.”

Dracy held his stare for a long second, lips pressed tight, before turning on his heel and walking away.

And that, that tiny hesitation before he left, was all the confirmation Sirius needed.

He smiled to himself, spinning the quill in his hand.

If he played this right, things were about to get very interesting.

----------------

As the days went by, the tension between James and Pegasus only grew worse.

At first, it was nothing more than the occasional complaint, small, petty remarks that Remus or Sirius could easily brush off.
But by fourth year, it had become a real fight.

Pegasus no longer spent all his time with the Marauders. He was gone more often than not, and James knew exactly where he went.

—

One evening in the Gryffindor common room, James slammed a book down on the table.
“Pony’s missing again.”

Remus looked up from his reading. “Maybe he’s got something else to do.”

“Something else?” James scoffed. “Don’t defend him. We all know where he’s gone.”

Sirius sprawled across the couch, arms crossed. “Bet he’s off with that bloody Slytherin again.””

Remus frowned. “Could you not call him that?”

James shot him a glare. “Why ? Pony barely even hangs out with us anymore, why bother being nice?”

“James.” Remus closed his book, tone sharper now. “They were friends long before you showed up. You act like Ravophine stole him from you.”

James opened his mouth,hen stopped.

Because Remus was right.

Pegasus and Emilius had been close since before any of this, before the pranks, before the Marauders. They’d grown up together. The three of them were the newcomers, the add-ons. But James couldn’t make peace with that thought.

He was jealous.

He’d never had to share Pony with anyone before. They had always been partners in trouble, the loudest voices in any room. And then Ravophine appeared, cool and unreadable, and suddenly James wasn’t the center of Pegasus’s world anymore.

For years, whenever James asked, Pegasus would just shrug and say he was “meeting a friend.” They’d been too busy raising hell around Hogwarts to care who that “friend” actually was.

Until the day James saw it, Pegasus throwing an arm around Ravophine’s shoulders after a Quidditch match, laughing, congratulating him even though Gryffindor had just lost miserably.That image burned itself into James’s head.

He could live with Pony having friends.
But not him.
Not that Slytherin bastard.

------------------------

The Gryffindor common room glowed under the candlelight, but the air was thick, heavy enough to choke on.

James Potter stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips, eyes blazing. Across from him, Pegasus Grey crossed his arms, jaw set. Neither looked like they planned to back down.

Sirius was lounging on the armrest of a chair, watching with that half-amused, half-annoyed smirk of his. Remus stood between them, clutching a book like it was some kind of shield, probably trying to decide if stepping in was even worth it.

James snapped first.
“Why are you always running after him?”

Pegasus raised a brow. “Him who?”

James let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly who I mean.”

Pegasus’s lips pressed into a thin line. He’d known this fight was coming, he just didn’t expect it to happen tonight.

James went on, voice rising with each word.
“I just don’t get it. What’s so great about him, huh? That arrogant Slytherin who acts like he’s above everyone else? And you, you follow him around like it’s your job. Do you even realize which side you’re standing on?”

Pegasus’s hands clenched at his sides. His voice was low, but sharp.
“What side? He’s my friend. That’s it. That doesn’t change just because of the color of his tie.”

James gave a short, humorless laugh. “Friend? Then what the hell are we?”

Pegasus’s temper snapped.
“Don’t you dare act like I betrayed you. You guys mean a lot to me, James, but so does Emil. He’s been there since before you even knew me! What gives you the right to tell me who I can be friends with?”

“I’ve got every right,” James shot back. “Because I am your friend, Pony! And because I know people like him, he’s no good for you. Slytherins are all the same!”

Pegasus laughed under his breath, the sound sharp and cutting.

“Maybe instead of obsessing over Emil, you should go back to drooling over Evans, Prongs.”

The room went dead quiet.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Remus just sighed, clearly done with all of it.

James’s face flushed red. “You—”

Pegasus didn’t let him finish. “What? I’m wrong? You spend half your time chasing after Lily like a lovesick puppy and the other half acting like you’re some saint of friendship. Maybe take a look in the mirror before lecturing me.”

James clenched his fists, but no words came out this time.

Pegasus tilted his head, eyes cold. “What’s the matter, James Potter? Cat got your tongue?”

James inhaled sharply, glared for a moment longer, then spun on his heel and stormed out.

The door slammed behind him, rattling the portrait.

Sirius broke the silence with a snort. “Well, you’re not wrong.”

Pegasus shot him a glare. “Didn’t ask for your approval, Padfoot.”

Sirius shrugged. “Didn’t give it either.”

Remus let out a long, exhausted sigh. “How long are you two planning to keep this up?”

Pegasus didn’t answer. He just turned and headed for the dorm stairs without a word, leaving Remus staring after him, tired, but not surprised.

---------------------------

The Three Broomsticks, A corner table by the window

Three steaming mugs of butterbeer filled the air with a sweet, comforting warmth against the chill of Hogsmeade. Pegasus Grey leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, lazily stirring his drink with a small spoon. Across from him, Hayden Alert was happily devouring a pumpkin pasty.

Emilius Ravophine, on the other hand, looked like someone had just said the worst thing imaginable, which, to be fair, they kind of had.

Pegasus set his spoon down and smirked. “Here we go again. Every time someone mentions Dracy, you look ready to murder someone.”

Emilius let out a sharp breath, the green eyes behind his glasses gleaming with irritation. “I’m not angry for no reason. He deserves it.”

Hayden sighed, wiping crumbs off his lips. “Sure, the guy treated you like rubbish, but honestly, Emil, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone hold a grudge quite like you do with Dracy Gallard.”

“So what?” Emilius’s voice hardened, his grip on the butterbeer tightening. “You think I should just forgive him? Pretend it didn’t matter that he ignored me for years just because I ended up in Slytherin?”

Hayden hesitated but couldn’t argue. Pegasus rested his chin on his hand, watching Emil with amused curiosity.
“Gotta admit, I’ve never seen you stay pissed this long. Not even Potter or Black get under your skin like Gallard does.”

“Don’t compare those idiots to him.”

Emilius’s tone cut like glass.

“James and Sirius are just immature fools, I never trusted them, never cared what they thought. But Dracy…” His voice dropped, quieter but sharper. “Dracy was different. He was my friend. And because of his precious pride, he threw it all away. Acted like I never existed.”

The words hung in the air. Hayden poked at the crumbs on his plate, silent now. Pegasus tapped his fingers lightly against the table, expression unreadable.

“You talk about him that much,” Pegasus said after a moment, his voice softer, “and I start thinking maybe you haven’t really let him go.”

Emilius’s hand tightened on the mug. “The only thing I want,” he muttered through clenched teeth, “is to wipe that smug look off his face.”

Pegasus laughed quietly, though there was a flicker of thought in his eyes. Maybe Emil wasn’t being honest, not even with himself. Because if anyone could still shake Emilius Ravophine with just a name, it wasn’t James Potter or Sirius Black. It was Dracy Gallard.

“I swear, if McGonagall gives one more lecture about Animagus transformation, I’m turning myself into an owl and flying out of this place,” Pegasus groaned, pushing his plate toward Hayden. “You finish it. I’m done.”

Hayden grinned, grabbing the leftover almond tart without hesitation. “You’re one to complain, you’re the best in Transfiguration out of all of us!”

“That’s the problem. I’m too good. It’s boring.” Pegasus shrugged, then turned toward Emilius with a grin. “What about you, Emil? I’ve never seen you struggle in any class.”

Emil took a slow sip of butterbeer. “It’s fine. Not exactly thrilling, but not awful either.”

“Do you ever get excited about anything?” Hayden teased, then added with a laugh, “—besides Quidditch, I mean.”

Pegasus snorted. “Right? Mention Quidditch and Emil turns into a completely different person. Usually he looks half asleep, but once he’s on that pitch, cold, ruthless, terrifying. Kind of impressive, actually.”

Emil shot him a glare over the rim of his mug, but didn’t deny it. “At least Quidditch’s got some challenge to it.”

“Spoken like a true prodigy,” Hayden muttered, shaking his head.

They laughed, the easy sound of it blending into the soft buzz of the pub. For a moment, it was just warmth and butterbeer and the kind of peace you rarely got at Hogwarts.

Then Pegasus suddenly sat up straight, eyes narrowing toward the door.

“Well, well,” he said, smirking. “Look who just walked in.”

The door swung open, and in walked four all-too-familiar faces : James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. James and Sirius were clearly in the middle of some heated argument, Remus looked like he’d given up trying to intervene, and Peter trailed behind them, hurrying to keep up.

Sirius’s sharp gray eyes scanned the pub, and the moment he spotted Pegasus sitting with Emilius, his face immediately darkened. James’s followed suit; he muttered something under his breath and gave Pegasus a rough shove on the shoulder as he passed.

“Skipping out on the gang again, Pony?” James grumbled.

Pegasus smirked without even turning his head.
“Evans isn’t here, Prongs.”

James froze mid-step. His ears went red. Sirius burst out laughing. Emilius hid a smirk behind his butterbeer, while Hayden ducked his head, shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh.

After a few awkward seconds, James shot Pegasus a glare and dragged Sirius off toward the bar. Remus gave the group a weary, apologetic glance before following.

Pegasus leaned back, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “Huh. Potter’s being downright civil today. Usually he’d start an argument just for the sport of it.”

Hayden snorted. “You hit a nerve. Can’t blame him for losing his cool.”

Emilius lifted his mug. “Serves him right.”

Pegasus’s gaze followed the Marauders toward the counter — more specifically, Peter Pettigrew, tagging along behind them like an unnoticed shadow. He rested his chin on his hand and called out in a teasing drawl,
“Hey, Prongs, planning to recruit a new best mate already?”

James spun around, looking annoyed. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Pony?”

Pegasus shrugged innocently. “Just saying, you and Pettigrew seem awfully close lately. Closer than you and Padfoot, even. Thought maybe you were expanding your little gang.”

Peter blinked, startled but visibly flattered. Sirius snorted. “Please. We’re not that desperate.”

James shot Pegasus a glare. “He’s just… easy to get along with, that’s all.”

“Oh, easy to get along with, huh?” Pegasus’ smile turned razor-sharp. “Funny, I thought the Marauders only let in people who could actually stand on their own — not tag along for scraps.”

Peter’s face went crimson, mumbling something inaudible, but no one paid him much attention. Sirius clapped a hand on James’s shoulder.
“Let it go, Prongs. He’s just jealous .”

Pegasus gave a small laugh, taking a slow sip of butterbeer. “Jealous? Hardly. Just wondering when you’ll forget who your real friends are.”

James’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. He shot one last glare and turned away. Remus sighed, while Sirius looked thoroughly entertained.

Emilius, who’d been quiet all this time, finally spoke up.
“You really do have a talent for pissing him off, don’t you?”

Pegasus grinned. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

The Marauders eventually returned to their own table, though James was still muttering under his breath about how bloody annoying Pegasus Grey could be.

Emilius took another bite of his pumpkin tart, seemingly unbothered by the tension. Pegasus sprinkled a little cinnamon into his butterbeer, while Hayden busied himself with a plate of jumping chocolate frogs he’d accidentally ordered.

Then Emilius felt it, that familiar gaze on him. He didn’t even have to look up to know who it belonged to.

“Come to pick another fight, Black?” he said flatly before Sirius could open his mouth.

Sirius smirked and dropped into the seat next to him, ignoring the glares from the others. “What, can’t I just talk for once?”

“Not today, Black.” Emilius’s tone was calm, almost bored, as he sliced another piece of pie. “I’m eating.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re always like this, aren’t you? Acting like everyone’s beneath you.”

Emilius finally looked up, his green eyes cool and steady behind his glasses. “Not everyone. Just the ones who waste my time.”

That made Sirius’s temper flare instantly. He wasn’t even sure why he’d walked over, maybe it was the sting of that earlier jab, or maybe it was just that Emilius’s unshakable calm drove him insane. He opened his mouth to snap back, but another voice cut in.

“Leave it, Sirius.”

Remus. James was watching from across the room, unimpressed.

Sirius scowled but stood, throwing Emilius one last look before heading back to his table.

Emilius didn’t even glance up, just took another bite, perfectly unfazed.

Pegasus chuckled. “You really know how to get under his skin, Emil.”

Hayden tried to hold back his laughter but failed, snickering into his drink. “I swear, that was beautiful. Never seen anyone shut Sirius Black up so fast.”

Emilius just shrugged. “He came to me. Not my fault.”

Pegasus took a long sip of butterbeer, eyes flicking toward the Marauders’ table. James was saying something to Sirius, probably scolding him. Remus looked like he’d already accepted defeat, and Peter, well, Peter was still tagging along in silence.

Pegasus smirked. “You notice, Emil? Lately, Sirius seems very interested in picking fights with you.”

Hayden nodded eagerly. “Totally! Ever since that thing in the Great Hall, he’s been obsessed. Can’t go a day without trying to get a rise out of you.”

Pegasus leaned back, pretending to think. “Maybe he’s into you.”

Hayden nearly choked on his drink. Emilius froze for a beat, then calmly set his fork down. “You have a wild imagination, Pony.”

Pegasus grinned. “Just saying. He gets way too worked up over you. And you, I’ve never seen you pay this much attention to anyone, either.”

Emilius gave him a flat look. “He’s like a bad cold. Annoying, persistent, and impossible to get rid of.”

Hayden burst out laughing, and Pegasus just raised his mug with a knowing smile.
“Well, whatever it is, I’ve got a feeling this is only getting started.”

Emilius didn’t bother replying, but his eyes flicked briefly toward Sirius’s table, just as, on the other side of the room, Remus was asking quietly,
“You sure it’s hate, Sirius?”

Sirius froze for half a second, then snapped, “Of course it is! He’s an arrogant, smug Slytherin git, how the hell could I like someone like that?!”

James only shook his head. Remus didn’t say a word, just smiled faintly, as if he already knew better.

----------------------------------

It was one of those rare evenings when the Slytherin common room was almost silent. The lake outside shimmered faintly, casting moving green shadows across the stone walls.

Emilius Ravophine sat in a corner armchair, a book open in front of him. He wasn’t really reading, just enjoying the quiet while most students were either asleep or off pretending to study in the library.

A shadow fell over his page.

He looked up to see Severus Snape, standing stiffly, as though debating whether this conversation was worth having.

“About last time,” Snape said at last, voice low but firm.

Emilius closed the book with a soft thud, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll have to be more specific, Snape. I tend to have a lot of ‘last times.’”

Snape frowned. “In the corridor. When you stepped in between me and the Potters’ lot.”

Emilius sighed, long and weary. “I told you already—I wasn’t trying to help you.”

Snape’s dark eyes narrowed. “Then why interfere at all?”

Emilius gave a casual shrug. “Because I don’t like them.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Snape said quietly, “I don’t need you fighting my battles. I can handle myself.”

Emilius smirk. “Can you? Funny, because every time I see you, you’re flat on the ground while they’re laughing their arses off.”

Snape’s jaw tightened. He didn’t rise to the bait this time, though his fists were clenched. After a beat, he muttered, “I don’t owe you anything.”

“Good,” Emilius replied evenly. “Then stop thinking about it.”

Snape lingered for a second longer, eyes unreadable, before turning away and disappearing up the stairs.

Emilius watched him go, exhaling quietly. Why do I keep getting dragged into other people’s messes? he wondered. Probably because he couldn’t stand to sit still and watch idiots make fools of themselves.

He had barely reopened his book when the peace shattered. A group of Slytherins swaggered in, their laughter echoing off the stone walls.

“Mark my words,” one of them said loudly, “the Dark Lord’s winning. When he takes over, all the Mudbloods and blood traitors will crawl for mercy.”

Emilius didn’t even look up, but his expression soured. The same talk, over and over again.

Another voice joined in, lower, but pitched just enough for him to hear. “Heard Ravophine’s father had a run-in with the Dark Lord once. Would’ve been dead if luck hadn’t been on his side.”

There was a ripple of snickers.

Then came the real provocation. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Tell me, Ravophine, why’d the Hat even put you in Slytherin?”

Emilius finally closed his book, raising his gaze to the ringleader, a smug sixth-year surrounded by his usual pack of wannabes.

He propped his chin on one hand, tone lazy but laced with venom. “If you’re that curious, maybe ask the Sorting Hat yourself. Assuming it’s still willing to listen to brainless twats like you.”

That earned a brief, stunned silence, then a mocking laugh.

“Careful with that mouth, Ravophine. You’re just like your father, serving that pathetic Ministry. One day, the Dark Lord will teach you where the real power lies.”

Emilius’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. He rose, adjusted his collar, and took a step closer, just enough to make the boy flinch.

“Listen carefully,” he said softly, every word precise, cutting. “I couldn’t care less about your so-called power. And as for your Dark Lord, he couldn’t even beat my father on his best day.”

The air in the common room went still.

Green light flickered across Emilius’s glasses as his gaze swept over them, sharp as a blade.

“Now get lost. I’m trying to read, and I don’t have the patience to listen to a bunch of idiots worship a madman’s nonsense.”

No one moved for a moment. Then, jaw clenched, the sixth-year turned on his heel and stalked off, his entourage scrambling to follow.

Emilius sighed, dropped back into his chair, and reopened his book.

Honestly, he thought, if ignorance were magic, half this House would be unstoppable.

Chapter Text

Emilius’s throat locked tight; his heart pounded wildly in his small chest. He kicked and struggled, bare feet scraping against the cold, filthy floor.

“Dad… Mom…” His voice broke into desperate sobs. “Please… help me!”

No one answered.

Only a deep, guttural laugh echoed through the dark, and a pair of greedy eyes followed every tear sliding down his flushed cheeks.

A coarse hand tangled in his golden hair and yanked it back hard. Pain flared white-hot. Emilius cried out, his whole body trembling like a willow in a storm.

Terror crushed the air from his lungs. Cold. So cold that even breathing hurt. Each gasp splintered into shards that sliced through his chest.

He wanted to run. But the rope cut into his wrists, and his frail limbs could not fight against such brute strength.

Only broken sobs remained, scattering into the darkness.

Emilius jolted awake.

His heart hammered against his ribs as though it would burst. The Slytherin dormitory was silent, the fireplace burning bright, but the warmth could not reach the chill buried deep in his bones.

His fingers clenched the hem of his nightshirt until the knuckles turned white. His body stayed tense, as if the nightmare still had its claws around his throat.

Beauty. It was never a gift. It was a curse. What others praised and desired was, to him, a double-edged blade, one that had dragged him into hell.

Even now, in those restless nights, he could still hear that raspy voice whispering in the dark.

Damn it.

-----------------------------

That summer, Sirius Black once again ran away from home, seeking refuge at the Potters’ house, just as he did every year. The Potters welcomed him with open arms, treating him as one of their own.
For Sirius, it was freedom, no endless lectures about “pureblood honor,” no shrill curses from dear Mother Walburga echoing through Grimmauld Place.

Naturally, with their restless energy, neither Sirius nor James could stay indoors for long. They often wandered wherever they pleased, exploring the Muggle world, a particular delight for Sirius, since it was everything his family despised.

—

On a bright afternoon, while strolling down a bustling street, the two passed by a small Muggle bookstore. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.

A familiar figure had caught his eye.

Inside, a blond boy stood before a shelf, carefully leafing through the pages of a book. Sunlight streamed through the window, gilding his hair like a halo. He was dressed completely like a Muggle: plain white shirt, black jeans, not a hint of the wizarding world on him.

James noticed it too. He squinted, almost blurting out,
“Wait—is that Ravophine?”

Sirius frowned in disbelief. “No way. That snake? In a Muggle shop?!”

The two slipped aside, half-hiding behind a display to watch.

Emilius Ravophine looked entirely different from how he did at Hogwarts. Gone was the usual air of cold indifference, the distant, calculating expression. He was simply… reading. Every so often he tilted his head, skimming a page, the corners of his lips curving faintly when something caught his interest.

After a few minutes, he walked to the counter with a small stack of books, pulling out Muggle money with effortless familiarity, as though he’d done this a hundred times before.

James glanced at Sirius.
“I thought he was like the rest of the Slytherins, couldn’t stand anything Muggle.”

Sirius’s eyes stayed fixed on the blond figure. “Apparently not.”

When Emilius left the shop, he adjusted his glasses, then disappeared down the crowded street, never noticing the two pairs of eyes following him.

James and Sirius remained where they stood, both lost in thought. Sirius watched the blond head recede into the sunlight until it vanished.

“He’s changed,” he murmured.

James raised a brow. “Changed how?”

“His hair’s longer,” Sirius said after a pause, chin jerking slightly in the direction Emilius had gone. “Looks like he’s growing it out.”

James gave him a puzzled look. “Why are you even paying attention to that?”

Sirius didn’t answer. The image of Emilius lingered in his mind—the light in his hair, the quiet focus, the absence of that familiar arrogance.
Out here, without his Slytherin robes, without the name “Ravophine” weighing on him, he seemed... ordinary.
Human.

Something about it didn’t fit. And Sirius couldn’t tell if that unsettled him, or intrigued him.

He smiled faintly to himself.
“Interesting,” he murmured.

James elbowed him. “What’s interesting? Don’t you hate that guy?”

“I do,” Sirius said, then hesitated. “But—”
He stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

----------------

Summer came to an end, and Hogwarts once again opened its gates to the returning students. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters buzzed with familiar chaos, voices shouting over the roar of the train engine, trunks clattering, owls hooting in protest.

Sirius Black sat in a compartment with his usual crew. James was in the middle of another dramatic rant about how he’d definitely make Lily Evans notice him this year. Remus had buried himself in a book, pretending not to listen. And Pegasus was finishing off a candy bar, eyes scanning the platform for someone.

Then he saw him.

A group of Slytherins climbed aboard, include a tall figure with shoulder-length blond hair who looked like he couldn’t care less about the noise around him.

Emilius Ravophine.

Pegasus nudged Remus, jerking his chin toward the blond.

“Look, Emil’s hair got longer. Told you he’d look good like that.”

Both James and Sirius turned to look. Emilius still wore his signature black-rimmed glasses, but with the longer hair, he looked… different. A bit more relaxed, a bit rough around the edges, and though Sirius hated to admit it, somehow more magnetic.

“Looks like a bloody French noble,” James muttered, folding his arms. “Trying to change his image or something?”

Sirius didn’t answer. He just rested his chin on his hand, watching. The image of Emilius in that Muggle bookstore from the summer flickered through his mind, not the cold, distant Slytherin he knew, but a boy who’d looked oddly at ease among Muggles. And now… he seemed different again.

Weird.

Emilius, for his part, didn’t seem to notice, or care about the stares. When his eyes briefly met theirs, he only raised an eyebrow, offered no expression at all, and kept walking.

James snorted. “Still acting like the whole world’s beneath him.”

Pegasus grinned, leaning back. “That’s just Emil. He couldn’t care less what anyone thinks.”

Sirius stayed quiet. But this time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, not just in Emilius, but in himself. A strange curiosity itched at the back of his mind, and he hated it.

Pegasus popped another candy into his mouth and stood. “Alright, I’m off.”

James frowned. “Again?”

“Just meeting a friend,” Pegasus said, hands in his pockets.

James gave him a look. “A friend or that blond Slytherin?”

Pegasus grinned. “Yeah, him.”

“Oh, come on, Pony. We finally got the whole gang together, and you’re ditching us already?”

“Then come with me,” Pegasus shot back. “Wanna see Emil?”

James recoiled immediately. “Hard pass.”

Rolling his eyes, Pegasus left the compartment without another word. Sirius watched him go for a few seconds before suddenly standing up.

James blinked. “Where are you going?”

Sirius smirked. “Didn’t you say Ravophine’s changed? Kinda curious to see for myself.”

“What the hell? You’re seriously going?”

“Why not?”

And before James could stop him, Sirius strolled out of the compartment, heading in the same direction Pegasus had gone.

Emilius sat by the window of another compartment, his head resting lazily against the seat, eyes half-lidded as he watched the scenery blur by. Hayden sat beside him, animatedly talking about his summer adventures, while Pegasus had just plopped down across from them.

“Skipped out on Potter again?” Emilius asked without even looking up.

Pegasus grinned. “You know me.”

“I do,” Emilius sighed. “I know you love starting trouble with the Gryffindors and then hiding out here when it backfires.”

Hayden laughed. “Come on, at least Pony still talks to both sides. You don’t give a damn about anyone but us.”

“Easier that way.”

Pegasus barked out a laugh, but before he could reply, the compartment door slid open.

All three turned their heads.

Sirius Black leaned casually against the doorway, wearing that trademark half-smile that always spelled trouble. “Knew you’d be here.”

Emilius raised an eyebrow. “Black.”

Pegasus snorted. “Well, well. You had enough free time to wander into the snake pit? Does James know you’re here?”

“Invited him,” Sirius said easily. “He said his arse was too comfy to move.”

Hayden glanced nervously between them, feeling the tension thicken.
“So… what are you doing here, exactly?”

Sirius didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept the compartment, then landed squarely on Emilius.
“Wanted to see how much you’ve changed.”

Emilius gave a dry chuckle. “Disappointed? Still me.”

Sirius tilted his head, lips curving. “Guess we’ll see.”

Emilius’s expression didn’t shift.
“Done staring? Then get the hell out of our compartment.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, but instead of getting angry, he just grinned wider.

“Fine. See you back at school, boys.”

“Fuck off”

Sirius laughed all the way down the corridor.

--------------------

The Great Hall blazed with candlelight. Stars shimmered across the enchanted ceiling, and golden plates overflowed with food that could feed a small village. Laughter echoed. First-years fidgeted under the Sorting Hat.

At the Slytherin table, Emilius Ravophine sat back in his chair, untouched goblet at hand, gaze drifting lazily across the room. He wasn’t listening to Dumbledore’s speech, never did. His eyes instead found two familiar faces across the hall:
Pegasus, at the Gryffindor table, grinning over some joke; and Hayden, at Hufflepuff, still debating whether to try the pudding.

And from further down across all that noise and light, he felt another stare.
Sirius Black.
Cold, sharp, and annoyingly persistent.

When the feast ended, the crowd spilled into the corridors, robes swishing, voices echoing.

Pegasus slipped through the chaos, catching up to Emilius and Hayden. “Wait up, thought I’d walk with you guys.”

Before he could say more, James Potter snagged him by the sleeve.

“Going somewhere, Pony?”

Pegasus frowned, yanking free. “Yeah. With friends.”

“Again? You’re still not done with that Slytherin crowd?”

“Prongs,” Pegasus sighed, “we share a dorm. You’ll be seeing me every day. Let it go.”

“That’s not the same thing!”

Sirius’s voice cut in, low and laced with disdain. “Why bother arguing? Snakes are good at manipulation. Bet he’s using some charm to keep Pony leashed.”

Pegasus froze, then turned sharply. “What the hell did you just say?”

Emilius let out a small, humorless laugh, but before he could speak, Hayden stepped forward.

“Can you guys not?” he snapped. “Pegasus can hang out with whoever he wants. Last I checked, there wasn’t a law against Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins being friends.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed, but another voice cut through the tension.

“How touching. I thought Gryffindors were above this kind of jealousy.”

They all turned.

A group of Ravenclaws sauntered past, led by a boy with platinum hair and a smile too sharp to be friendly.

Dracy Gallard.

Emilius’s expression turned to stone.

Dracy’s gaze swept over James and Sirius, his tone smooth and cutting.
“I always imagined Gryffindors as noble. Didn’t think I’d see you sulking because your friend found new company.”

James bristled. “And who the hell asked you?”

Dracy tilted his head, amused. “No one. But I couldn’t help noticing how small-minded you’re being. If Pony wants to spend time with someone, that’s his choice.”

Emilius’s fists clenched at his sides. His voice dropped a notch, quiet and dangerous.
“You don’t get to call him Pony, Gallard.”

Hayden murmured, “Emil… chill.”

But it was too late.

Dracy smirked. “Relax, I’m just defending you.”

Emilius’s tone sliced like glass. “You don’t get to defend me. Not after you turned your back on me over something so damn petty.”

For a split second, Dracy’s expression flickered, then the smirk returned.
“Still holding onto that? I thought you didn’t care.”

Emilius stepped forward, eyes blazing.
“You think I wouldn’t care when my best friend ditched me because I got sorted into Slytherin?”

Dracy’s voice softened, almost pitying. “I chose my path, Emil. We used to be friends, but you don’t belong in that world anymore.”

Pegasus and Hayden each grabbed Emilius’s sleeve, pulling him back.

Then Sirius laughed. A short, derisive bark.

“Oh, this is priceless.” He shook his head. “I always knew you were insufferable, Ravophine, but now I actually pity you.”

Emilius’s eyes flicked toward him. “Do you.”

Sirius stepped closer, grin sharp as a blade.
“Dumped by your best friend because you’re a Slytherin? Yeah, sounds about right for someone like you.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then—

Emilius laughed. Quiet. Low. Dangerous.

Sirius’s smirk faltered.

“Funny,” Emilius said softly, “coming from the guy whose own family threw him out.”

The corridor went still.

Sirius’s face darkened; James took a step forward. “What did you just say?”

Emilius only shrugged, calm again. “Not in the mood to argue. Let’s go, Hayden. Pegasus.”

He turned and walked away, leaving Sirius trembling with rage, fists clenched tight at his sides.

And in that moment, Sirius Black knew one thing for certain: he hated Emilius Ravophine more than he ever had before.

Dracy watched the trio disappear down the hall, then looked back at Sirius with a faint, mocking smile.

“You boys picked the wrong snake to mess with.”

He turned on his heel, the echo of his laughter fading down the corridor.

Because if anyone had the right to provoke Emilius Ravophine, it was Dracy Gallard.

-------------------------

The new school year began in a rush of lectures, essays, and grueling Quidditch practices.

Emilius Ravophine shone once again as Slytherin’s brightest star, something that only made Sirius Black’s blood boil hotter.

And as if that weren’t enough, his own bloody brother, Regulus, had joined the Slytherin team this year as a Seeker.

And, of course, the kid idolized Ravophine.

Sirius realized it one lazy Saturday afternoon. He’d been wandering past the Quidditch pitch when he spotted Regulus by the stands, eyes lit with unguarded admiration as Emilius soared past, golden hair slicing through the sunlight.

Sirius stopped behind him, voice dripping with mockery.
“What’s so fascinating that you’ve forgotten how to blink?”

Regulus flinched, then turned, face twisting the moment he saw who it was.
“What’s it to you?”

Sirius snorted. “Hilarious. The great House of Black worships Slytherin pride, and yet you’re drooling over someone who couldn’t care less about any of it.”

Regulus shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
“What do you know? Ravophine doesn’t need to prove anything. He’s just better than you, Sirius, on the field, and off it.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened. “Is that so? Then I’ll be waiting to see your precious hero crash.”

Regulus didn’t answer, just turned back to watch Emilius glide through the air, effortless and composed. Sirius’s fists clenched at his sides.

How could someone like Ravophine have everything?

A Slytherin with a cold heart and a too-calm face, barely talking to anyone outside his little circle, and yet, somehow, even Regulus admired him?

Sirius hated it.

And he knew there was only one way to get rid of that feeling, he’d have to beat Emilius Ravophine.
On the pitch. And everywhere else.

The chance came sooner than expected.

Late one evening, Sirius and James were wandering back to their dorms when they spotted a lone figure by the window, moonlight spilling across long blond hair.

Sirius’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Well, what do you know? Ravophine himself. Where’s your little fan club tonight?”

Emilius turned slightly, expression unmoved.

“Where I stand is none of your business. If you’ve got nothing worth saying, move along.”

Sirius scoffed. “You talk like you’ve got authority.”

Emilius sighed, a quiet, weary sound that somehow stung more than any insult.
The sheer indifference in his tone made Sirius’s temper flare.

“Listen,” Sirius said, stepping forward, “Pony might put up with you, but I don’t. And I honestly can’t figure out why my brother worships someone like you.”

Emilius’s gaze didn’t waver. His answer came soft, clipped.
“So?”

That one word hit harder than any curse. Sirius’s patience snapped.

“How about a duel?” His grin turned razor-sharp. “Let’s see if you’re half as good as everyone thinks. Or are you planning to hide behind that frozen expression forever?”

James chuckled from the side, folding his arms. “Oh, this should be good.”

But to Sirius’s surprise, Emilius didn’t rise to the bait.
He simply turned his back.

“Why would I waste my time on you?”

The words hit like cold steel. Sirius froze, pulse spiking.

“Hey!” he barked after him. “Running away already? What’s the matter, afraid to lose?”

Emilius didn’t even look back. He just raised a hand in lazy dismissal, a casual flick, as if brushing off an annoying insect, and disappeared down the corridor.

James let out a low whistle. “You know, he just made you look like a complete idiot, Padfoot.”

Sirius ground his teeth, heat rising behind his eyes.

No. He wouldn’t let it end like this.

--------------

Pegasus Grey had a secret.

For all that he was a true Gryffindor, loud, honest, and never one to hide what he felt, there were things he would never say. Not to Hayden. Not even to Emilius.

Because some secrets weren’t his alone to tell.

Ever since the new term began, Emilius had sensed something off about Pegasus. Not distance exactly, but... inconsistency. Sometimes Pegasus would vanish for hours, slipping away between classes or after dinner, returning with that same easy grin as if nothing had happened.

It irritated Emilius, not out of possessiveness, but because that wasn’t how their friendship worked. They shared everything: the fights with Dracy, the pranks that landed them in detention, the sneaky trips to Hogsmeade. There had never been secrets between them.

Until now.

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon in the library when Emilius finally spoke up.

“You’ve been spending a lot more time with the Gryffindors lately, Pony.”

Hayden nodded from beside him, mouth half-full of pastry. “Yeah. Where do you keep disappearing to?”

Pegasus flinched, just slightly, then plastered on his usual smile.
“Oh, nothing. Just helping James with his grand plan to win over Lily Evans.”

Emilius lowered his book, studying him. “Really?”

He wasn’t sure what annoyed him more: that Pegasus was keeping something from him, or that Pegasus thought he’d actually fall for such an obvious lie.

Pegasus gave a weak laugh, glancing toward Hayden.
“It’s true! Don’t look at me like that. I’ve just been busy, that’s all—”

“Too busy to tell us where you’ve been?” Emilius cut in, his tone calm but firm.

Silence hung between them for a moment.

Pegasus finally looked away, the grin slipping a little.

“Emil,” he said quietly, “there are things I can’t talk about. Not because I don’t trust you. But because… they’re not just mine.”

That stopped Emilius cold.

Not just his?

Then whose? Sirius? James? Remus?

Something in his chest twisted uncomfortably.

“I’m not nosy,” Emilius murmured, voice low. “But at least tell us you’re not in trouble.”

Pegasus hesitated, then smiled again, this time softer, genuine.
“I’m fine, Emil. Promise.”

And looking into those bright blue eyes, Emilius knew he wasn’t lying.

“…Alright then.”

----------------

That night, Emilius couldn’t sleep.

He lay awake in his Slytherin dorm, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, the clock long past midnight, but his mind refused to quiet.

Eventually, he gave up.

This was nothing new. On sleepless nights, Emilius often wandered. The silence of the castle comforted him, but it was the Forbidden Forest he loved most. There, beneath the moonlight, he could breathe. No prying Slytherin eyes, no whispers about bloodlines or the Dark Lord. Just stillness. Just air.

Tonight was no different.

He threw on his cloak, adjusted his glasses, and slipped out. The forest shimmered under a pale moon. Shadows of trees stretched long across the ground, and the cool wind brushed past like whispered voices. Each step crunched softly beneath his boots. He wasn’t searching for anything, just moving, letting the night untangle his thoughts.

Until he saw it.

A flicker of movement between the trees.

He froze.

There, bathed in moonlight, stood a horse, its coat a deep chestnut red. Its eyes met his, wide and calm, utterly unafraid.

“A horse?” he muttered under his breath.

The Forbidden Forest was full of strange creatures, but an ordinary horse? Unlikely.

If it were a unicorn, at least it would have a horn, but this one didn’t. Just a horse. Ordinary. Too ordinary.

Emilius’s instincts prickled. Something about it felt… wrong.

“Where did you come from?” he whispered.

The horse twitched its ears but didn’t back away. Instead, it stepped closer.

Emilius frowned, every sense alert. Then, a sound behind him.

He spun around.

A massive black dog stood a few yards away, its eyes glinting gold in the dark. Beside it, a tall stag loomed, antlers glistening under the moon.

A horse.A dog.A stag.

All three watching him. Too still. Too aware.

A chill crawled down his spine.

They weren’t wild. He could feel it. There was something human in those gazes, something unsettlingly intelligent. He turned back toward the horse, and found it right beside him.

It reached forward, pressing its muzzle gently against his sleeve.

Emilius froze. No wild creature behaved like that. The touch was strangely familiar, almost affectionate. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until a rustle snapped through the air.

In the blink of an eye, the stag and the dog turned, vanishing into the trees. The horse startled, took a few steps back, and looked at him once more before galloping after them, disappearing into the darkness.

Emilius stood there, heart still pounding.

“…Weird.”

He exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

Whatever that had been, it wasn’t his concern.

“Not my problem,” he muttered, turning back toward the castle.

Let the forest keep its secrets.

He had enough of his own.

Chapter Text

The night was clear, the moon hanging high and bright in the sky. The air was cool, crisp, the kind that made you want to breathe slowly and savor every moment. Emilius slipped his hands into the pockets of his robe and walked carefully across the forest floor, crunching the dry leaves beneath his feet. The soft rustle with each step was the only sound. This was why he loved sneaking out at night, no one to bother him, no chaos, just quiet and space to think.

After wandering for a while, he stopped, leaning his back against a sturdy tree. He tilted his head up and stared at the stars.

Fifth year had begun.

Everything was the same as ever: James Potter still annoying, Sirius Black still provoking him at every turn, Dracy still managing to irritate him with just a glance. But Pegasus and Hayden were still there, always by his side. That alone was enough.

Stretching lazily, Emilius decided it was time to head back before anyone noticed his absence. What he didn’t know was that someone’s eyes had been following him from the shadows.

Nearby, the horse he had seen before had reunited with its companions, the towering stag and the massive black dog. In an instant, all three shifted into human forms.

“What the hell is Ravophine doing here?!”

James panted, and even Sirius’s skin prickled with cold sweat. They had just barely managed to drag Remus out of the way. Had they been a second slower, Ravophine could have been in serious danger.

“Merlin… we were so close…” Sirius shivered at the thought. He hated Ravophine, yes, but if the boy had been hurt, Remus would have paid the price too.

Pegasus sank to the ground, pressing his hands to his head.

“I completely forgot Emil has this habit of wandering into the forest. He can’t sleep much, and of course, tonight of all nights, the full moon!”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up.

“Trouble sleeping? Is he… sick?”

“Padfoot, are you insane? Who cares about that kid’s sleep schedule right now!!”

A sharp howl cut through the night, forcing the three of them to immediately transform back into their Animagus forms. Remus now took first priority.

The next morning, Sirius Black leaned back in a chair, chin resting on his hand, eyes distant.

He wasn’t listening to James rambling about the upcoming Quidditch match, nor did he notice Peter trying to worm his way into the conversation. All he could see was a single image, golden hair glowing under the moonlight, a lone figure standing in the Forbidden Forest as if he had always belonged there.

Emilius.

Alone.

Not sneaking around, not searching for something. Just walking, moving through the forest as though it were his own. As if he were part of the shadows, belonging nowhere and everywhere at once.

Sirius couldn’t shake it. The proud, distant Slytherin he knew, the one who avoided everyone, looked completely different in that moment. Silent, isolated, almost… fragile. It was unsettling.

It wasn’t that Sirius had never seen someone alone. He knew that feeling all too well himself. But watching Emilius move through the darkness like that… it was strange, impossible to ignore.

“Oi, am I talking to a wall or something?” James furrowed his brow, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“No, I’m listening. So what’s the plan this time?” Sirius replied.

“Slughorn’s got a potions practical coming up. I’m telling you, if someone slipped a little… surprise… into a Slytherin’s cauldron, it’d be chaos.”

Sirius chuckled. Some of his irritation melted away.

“Who’s the target?”

James shrugged.

“Ideally, Snape. But if not, anyone will do. Maybe even Ravophine, aren’t you itching to stir things up with him?”

Hearing that name, Sirius froze for a moment. Then he smirked. “Fine. Let’s see how he reacts.”

The Potions class had begun, and, as usual, the Slytherins had claimed a corner of the room for themselves. But Emilius and Pegasus had formed their own small group. Sirius settled in with James and Remus, his eyes flicking toward the other table, where Emilius lazily flipped through a book as if nothing around him mattered.

He was almost certain Emilius had noticed something was off the moment they entered the classroom. When Slughorn began handing out ingredients, the boy had squinted at the cauldron in front of him for a long moment, then quietly whispered something to Pegasus.
Pegasus chuckled, shooting a knowing glance toward the James and Sirius’ table.

Sirius bristled. Don’t tell me he’s going to ruin our little prank too.

And, sure enough, the moment Emilius stirred the contents of his cauldron, a faint, minty scent rose from it.

“What on earth—?” Slughorn frowned, stepping closer.
Emilius merely shrugged. “I don’t know, Professor. It seems someone slipped some candy into my cauldron.”

Sirius’ eyes widened. He had expected an explosion, a puff of purple smoke, or at least some chaotic mess—but peppermint? Really?

Slughorn blinked between the cauldron and Emilius, clearly at a loss for words. Finally, he patted the boy on the shoulder, helpless. “At least it’s harmless. You can switch to another cauldron if you like.”

Emilius nodded, and before turning away, he cast a look toward Sirius, a single glance brimming with pure, unbothered disdain.

Not angry. Not annoyed. Just: “Is that all you’ve got, Black?”

Sirius ground his teeth.

———————————-

The evening at Slughorn’s Club was warm and extravagant as always. Slughorn loved surrounding himself with talented students, and tonight was no exception. The most prominent names in the school gathered around the table, candlelight glinting off golden goblets.

Emilius sat in a corner, calmly cutting a piece of meat on his plate, showing no interest in the chatter around him. He wasn’t fond of evenings like this, but refusing Slughorn’s invitation was even more troublesome than attending. After all, as one of the top students in Charms, and the son of a legendary wizard, he couldn’t avoid attracting attention.

“Ah, Emilius, it’s truly an honor to have the son of Ravophine in my club,” Slughorn said with a wide smile, raising his glass toward him. “Your father was a remarkable man, brilliant and accomplished in his field.”

Heads turned toward Emilius, curiosity flickering in a few eyes. Everyone knew of his father’s reputation as a Light wizard of renown, and though Emilius was a Slytherin, there was no sign he intended to follow the Dark path, unlike many in his house.

“Is that so sir?” Emilius replied tersely.

Slughorn chuckled. “Indeed! I remember he was gifted even as a young wizard. Do you intend to follow in his footsteps?”

Emilius set down his plate. “Professor, his path is his. My path is mine.”

Slughorn blinked, then laughed with satisfaction. “Very stylish! Excellent, indeed!”

The conversation continued around him, but Emilius sensed a glare from across the table. He lazily flicked his gaze.

Sirius Black sat there, clearly annoyed. He said nothing, resting his chin on his hand, gray eyes dark and calculating.

Emilius just continued his meal.

The dinner at Slughorn’s Club ran later than expected. As the other students trickled out, Emilius rose slowly. The moment he reached the door, a lazy, teasing voice called from behind.

“Hey.”

Emilius didn’t bother turning.

“People actually have names, you know,” he said flatly, pushing his glasses up.

“I don’t get it,” Sirius said, stepping away from the wall, arms crossed. “You hate attention, you hate being talked about, and yet tonight you just sat there listening to Slughorn go on and on about your father like he’s some living legend.”

“I wasn’t listening,” Emilius replied coolly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Seems to me Slughorn just likes flattering people he thinks are worth his time. Kinda like how he treats you… oh right, you’re one of the ‘special’ ones the Slytherin elite ignores.”

Sirius’ gray eyes narrowed. “I’m nothing like you.”

Emilius tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh yeah? Obviously you hate these club dinners, yet you came. Why?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, shrugging with exaggerated honesty. “I came for the food. That’s it. The pomp? The speeches? Hate it all.”

“Hmm alright ,” Emilius said, shrugging. “At least I’ve never gone around complaining about my family while secretly checking what they think of me.”

The words hit Sirius like a punch. He clenched his jaw, but had nothing to argue. James Potter might be the family he’d chosen, but the shadow of House Black still clung to him, and Emilius knew exactly how to twist it.

Emilius looked at Sirius’s scowl and said lazily.

“I’m tired. Move.”

Sirius gave a short, humorless laugh. “What, too good to talk to me now? Guess that fits. You’re the picture-perfect Slytherin, quiet, clever, and full of yourself.”

Emilius raised a brow, tone dry. “At least I don’t spend every waking minute trying to prove something.”

“Excuse me?” Sirius stepped closer, his voice low but sharp.

“You heard me,” Emilius said evenly. “You talk about how much you hate your family, hate pure-blood nonsense, hate this, hate that, but you still care what they think. You still care about them, Black. You’re desperate to be different, but you never stop looking back.”

For a moment, Sirius just stood there, silent. Then he scoffed, but his voice came out tighter than he wanted.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

Emilius shrugged. “I know enough.”

He brushed past, shoulder barely grazing Sirius’s arm as he walked off down the corridor.

Sirius stayed there, jaw clenched, heart pounding. He wanted to shout something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat.

Merlin, he hated that smug bastard.

And he hated how right he might be.

———————————-

“Picking a fight with Ravophine again, Sirius?”

Lily Evans’s voice cut in from behind. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Merlin, Evans, don’t start,” Sirius muttered. “I’m not fighting. Just… talking.”

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a look. “Funny, every time you ‘talk,’ he walks away looking fine and you look ready to explode.”

Sirius snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re defending him now.”

“Maybe I am,” Lily said lightly. “He’s not half as bad as you make him sound. He actually kinda nice to talk to, I saw him reading muggle novel in the library a few times”

Sirius scoffed, but didn’t answer.

Truth was, he didn’t know why Emilius Ravophine got under his skin so easily. The guy barely spoke, rarely showed emotion, and yet, somehow, one sentence from him could strip Sirius of every bit of his usual confidence.
Lily watched him for a moment, then shook her head.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate him, you sure talk about him a lot.”

Sirius shot her a glare, but she was already walking away, lips curved in a knowing smile.

And the worst part?

She wasn’t wrong.

————————-

In another corner of the castle, Emilius walked leisurely down the corridor, hands tucked into his cloak pockets.
The earlier encounter with Sirius Black hardly bothered him, compared to the things he had to face every day, that petty provocation wasn’t worth a second thought.

He stopped when he saw a figure leaning casually against the railing at the end of the hall.

“Out early, huh?” Pegasus grinned.

“I thought Slughorn’s boring little banquet would’ve kept you longer.”

Emilius shrugged. “He talked about my father for a bit, then left me alone. That was enough.”

Pegasus pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him.

“Got into it with Black again?”

“He started it.”

Pegasus laughed. “So, what did you say this time that made him lose his mind?”

“That he spends all his time pretending he’s nothing like his family,” Emilius said simply, eyes fixed ahead. “But every time he opens his mouth, you can hear them in him. The anger. The pride. The need to prove he’s different.”

He paused, his tone dipping lower, sharper.

“He wants so badly to escape the Blacks that he doesn’t even realize he’s still chasing their approval, just from the opposite direction.”

Pegasus gave a low whistle. “Merlin, Emil… remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Emilius didn’t respond. His expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker, the faintest trace of something unreadable behind his eyes.

Pegasus grinned, trying to lighten the air. “No wonder he looked ready to punch a wall.”

“Let him,” Emilius said quietly. “It’s not my problem if he can’t handle the truth.”

Pegasus glanced sideways at him, something thoughtful crossing his face.

“You know, for someone who claims not to care, you talk about him a lot.”

Emilius stopped walking. “I don’t.”

“Sure,” Pegasus smirked. “And I’m a Hufflepuff.”

Emilius rolled his eyes, starting forward again. Pegasus kept pace, still grinning, but his mind was working.

“You noticed he’s been watching you more lately, right? Like... a lot more?”

Emilius didn’t answer. His footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor.

“So?” Pegasus pressed. “What do you think that’s about?”

“It’s not my problem.”

“But you’ve noticed.” Pegasus grinned. “You always notice.”

Emilius stopped walking, eyes unreadable. “I just find it annoying.”

“Sure you do.”

They kept walking. Pegasus started rambling about Hayden overstuffing himself with pumpkin pasties and collapsing back in the dorms, but Emilius barely heard a word. His mind was tangled somewhere else.

That look in Sirius Black’s eyes earlier, not just anger, but something messier beneath it. Something Emilius couldn’t quite name.

He didn’t care about Sirius, not really. But he understood him.

Sirius was the kind of person who lived on raw instinct, emotion before reason, action before thought. If he hated someone, he didn’t need a reason. He’d just decide, and that was that.

And for some reason, from day one, Sirius had decided that Emilius was worth hating.

That alone wasn’t surprising. Gryffindor and Slytherin had been at each other’s throats since forever.

But lately… the way Sirius looked at him wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t contempt anymore. It wasn’t even rivalry.

It was focus, sharp, deliberate, intrusive. Like Sirius couldn’t help but pay attention.

And Emilius hated that.

Not because he was afraid or cared what Black thought, but because that kind of attention was dangerous.
It meant trouble. It meant being pulled into the kind of drama he had no patience for.

And yet…

That moment when Sirius’s gaze met his, when it felt like the boy could actually see through the quiet armor he wore, that was what unsettled him.

He’d spent years perfecting the art of indifference. No one ever saw past it. No one ever tried.

But Sirius Black wasn’t like most people. He had the instincts of a hound, once he caught a scent, he wouldn’t let go.

Emilius’s hand curled inside his pocket.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself.

He won’t matter.

“What’s on your mind?” Pegasus asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Emilius blinked, then said flatly, “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Pegasus walked a few more steps in silence before speaking again.

“Hey, Emil… maybe you stop sneaking into the forest at night.”

Emilius turned his head slightly. “Why?”

Pegasus forced a casual tone. “I dunno. I just… the forest’s dangerous, you know? Giant spiders, centaurs, creepy stuff. You shouldn’t be wandering around alone.”

He couldn’t say the real reason, that last night, Remus had turned into the werewolf. That the horse who’d distracted Emilius was him

And that if things had gone differently, the boy walking beside him now might not have survived the night.

Emilius studied Pegasus for a moment,
“I’ll think about it.”

Pegasus exhaled. He didn’t push further. Some truths were better left untouched.

————————-

Sirius lay on his bed, hands tucked behind his head, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

In his mind, there was only one image, Emilius Ravophine, standing beneath the silver moonlight of the Forbidden Forest that night.

Golden hair catching the moonlight, soft yet distant, almost ethereal. A slender back, a slow, deliberate gait—as if he belonged to the darkness itself.

And then—

His face.

Sirius froze.

His face.

He couldn’t remember Emilius’s face.

It was absurd. He’d seen that boy countless times, argued with him, mocked him, watched him in class, on the Quidditch pitch, even across the table at Slughorn’s pompous dinners. But when he tried to picture it—

Everything blurred.

The features were indistinct, as though hidden behind a thin veil of fog. He remembered the cool green eyes, the way Emilius narrowed them behind his glasses when he was focused, but he couldn’t piece together a complete face in his mind.

Sirius shot upright as if doused in a bucket of ice water.

“No. No, that’s impossible.”

He spun around, leapt from his bed, and shook James Potter awake with a grip that could wake the dead.

“Prongs! Wake up!”

James, who had been dreaming of leading Gryffindor to glorious Quidditch victory, jolted awake mid-swing.

“Huh—WHAT—Quidditch? Who won?!” he shouted, hair sticking up like a wild halo.

Sirius groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Not Quidditch! Listen, this is serious!”

James squinted at him like Sirius had grown an extra head.

“Please don’t tell me this is another one of those dreams where you forget to wear pants to class. Last time was enough .”

“It’s not that!” Sirius snapped. “I can’t remember Ravophine’s face!”

James blinked. Once. Twice. Then he fell back onto his pillow and pulled the blanket over his head.

“You woke me up in the middle of the night—for that?!”

“I’M SERIOUS!” Sirius yanked the blanket away. “I can picture everyone in this bloody school, Snivellus, McGonagall, even Filch, but Ravophine? Nothing! Just his hair, his voice, his eyes... but his face? Gone. Completely gone!”

James stared at him like Sirius had just confessed to being Dumbledore’s illegitimate son.

“…Mate, are you obsessed with Ravophine?”

“It’s not about that!!” Sirius barked.

James sighed, closing his eyes again. “I’m going back to sleep. Wake me when you start forgetting my face too.”

Sirius smacked his mattress. “Hey! I’m telling you, something’s weird about this!”

James rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Well… yeah, it’s weird, I’ll give you that. But maybe you just don’t care enough about his face for your brain to bother remembering it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I remember the mole on Slughorn’s nose, how could I not remember his face?!” Sirius groaned.

James rolled his eyes. “What if he’s cursed?”

Sirius paused. “…What do you mean?”

James shrugged. “There are spells that make people unnoticeable, like Muggle-Repelling Charms. I read somewhere that they can make others forget details about a person or place. Maybe Ravophine’s using something like that.”

Sirius frowned, deep in thought.

If that were true… then why?

———————-

The next morning, Great Hall.

Sirius munched on toast while sneaking glances across the room at the Slytherin table, where Emilius Ravophine sat quietly eating breakfast.

Golden hair? Check.

Cool, detached eyes? Check.

The face?

Nothing.

It slipped from his mind the moment he tried to grasp it, like water running through his fingers.

No. This was impossible. There was no way he could forget the face of someone he’d verbally sparred with for 2 years.

He bit into another piece of toast, eyes narrowing as he stared.

Emilius must have sensed it; his brows furrowed slightly, and when he met Sirius’s gaze, he raised one cool eyebrow.

Sirius instantly looked away, pretending to admire the enchanted ceiling. But his mind was spinning.

He couldn’t stand it any longer.

He stood up abruptly, walked over, and clapped Pegasus on the shoulder. “Hey, come with me.”

Pegasus blinked. “Uh… okay?”

Once they were out of the Hall, Sirius turned sharply.

“Is Ravophine using some kind of spell on his face?”

Pegasus stared at him. “What?”

“I mean it! I can’t remember what he looks like. I remember his hair, his voice, his walk, but his face is just… blurry. Like it’s been charmed or something.”

Pegasus stared for a beat. Then burst out laughing.

“For Merlin’s sake, Black, are you stupid?”

Sirius scowled. “What?”

Pegasus looked at him like he was trying to teach advanced Arithmancy to a troll.

“If you can’t remember Emil’s face, that’s your own bloody brain’s fault. Don’t drag me into it.”

“I’m serious!” Sirius insisted. “He’s hiding something—”

“No,” Pegasus said dryly, clapping him on the shoulder.

“You’re just an idiot. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my breakfast without your mental breakdown, thanks.”

But Sirius knew, something wasn’t right. And he was going to find out what.

Pegasus, outwardly calm, was inwardly panicking. As soon as breakfast ended, he grabbed Emilius and Hayden and dragged them to a quiet corner.

“We’ve got a problem, Emil. Black’s onto you!”

Emilius blinked. “Onto what?”

“Your face, obviously! He was staring at you the whole morning, then pulled me aside and asked—” Pegasus swallowed a laugh, mimicking Sirius’s deep voice.

“‘Is Ravophine using a spell on his face? I can’t remember what he looks like!’”

Hayden choked on air. “He said that?!”

“I’m not kidding!” Pegasus threw up his hands. “I thought he was joking, but no, the bloke was dead serious!”

Emilius went quiet for a long moment. “…What did you say to him?”

“I told him he’s an idiot and to ask his own brain,” Pegasus said proudly.

Hayden groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Brilliant. That’s exactly how we keep things subtle.”

“I panicked, okay?! How was I supposed to respond to that kind of lunacy?” Pegasus protested.

Emilius frowned. So, Black was starting to suspect something.

Hayden looked over, lowering his voice. “What now? You know how he is, once Sirius Black gets curious about something, he won’t stop until he tears it apart.”

Pegasus nodded solemnly. “Maybe if he asks again, you should just slap him till he forgets.”

Emilius narrowed his eyes. “Maybe I should slap you first.”

Pegasus immediately raised his hands in surrender.
“Kidding! Just kidding! But seriously, Emil, be careful. If he keeps digging, he will figure something out.”

Emilius sighed, rubbing his temple.

As if Sirius Black hadn’t been enough of a nuisance already, now there was the added risk of him stumbling onto a very dangerous truth.

He must’ve gotten out of bed on the wrong side this morning.

Chapter Text

Sirius had been feeling… off all morning. Not the usual kind of irritation, like when McGonagall caught him pulling pranks, or when Evans gave him that death glare, or when Snape just existed.
No, this was different. It was the kind of restless itch that got under his skin, a puzzle he knew had an answer, but every time he got close, it slipped right through his fingers.

And the center of it all was Emilius Ravophine.

He’d spent the entire breakfast staring at the bloke, trying to pin it down. He remembered the curly golden hair. The voice, too cool, deliberate. The way Ravophine always tilted his head slightly when he looked at people, as if he were silently measuring them. But when Sirius tried to picture the face… everything blurred. Like a painting smeared by careless hands.

It was maddening.

So the moment breakfast was over, Sirius grabbed James by the sleeve and dragged him out of the Great Hall.

“Prongs, I gotta ask you something.”

James, halfway through an apple, looked at him with a raised brow. “What now?”

“Do you remember Ravophine’s face?”

James froze mid-bite

“What—of course I do,” he said after a pause, frowning slightly.

“No, I mean really remember it. Can you describe it?” Sirius pressed.

James squinted, thinking hard. “Uh… well, he’s got eyes. And a nose. And… a mouth?”

Sirius just stared at him. “You’re kidding me.”

“What do you want me to say? He looks… normal? Not ugly, not stunning. Just….there.”

Sirius folded his arms. “Then why do you remember Snivellus’s greasy mug in perfect detail?”

“Because it’s ugly,” James deadpanned.

“Focus!” Sirius hissed. “We see Ravophine every bloody day. You’ve talked to him. You once kicked his chair in Potions, remember?”

“So?”

“So what do you mean so?” Sirius hissed. “I can’t remember his face. You can’t remember his face. Isn’t that weird?”

James finally stopped joking. He folded his arms, thoughtful. “Yeah… okay, that is weird.”

“Exactly,” Sirius said, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “Something’s not right about that guy.”

James raised an eyebrow. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

Sirius’s grin turned sharp. “Find out.”

James stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Merlin help us. I knew you wouldn’t let this go.”

“Of course not,” Sirius said simply.

----------------------------

Pegasus had no intention of betraying his friend. He liked James and Sirius well enough, both were funny, decent in their own reckless way. But Emilius was different. Emilius was the one he’d known for years, the one he trusted most.

And if those two idiots were about to cause trouble, then Pegasus would have to step in.

Not because he hated them, just because Emil mattered more.

Damn it.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, thinking. James wasn’t really a problem, that guy was either playing Quidditch or annoying Lily Evans half to death. But Sirius? Sirius was the problem.

Once Sirius got curious about something, he’d dig until he hit the bottom, or blew something up trying. And honestly… even Pegasus had to admit, this whole “no one remembers Emil’s face” thing was kind of creepy.

Still, Emil had kept his secret for years. No way he’d slip up now.

“So, what’s the plan?” Hayden asked, voice lazy, fingers drumming on the stone railing. “What’re you gonna do about Black?”

“Nothing,” Emil said flatly. “Ignore him.”

Pegasus blinked. “Ignore him? You’re kidding, right? You think Sirius Black just drops things?”

Emil gave him that calm, cold look of his. “If I react, he’ll only get more curious. And it’s not like I have anything to hide, do I?”

Hayden let out a sigh. “Can’t tell if you’re reminding us or yourself.”

“Then take it however you want,” Emil said.

Pegasus pulled a face but didn’t argue. Emil always seemed like he had everything under control, he’d hidden this thing for five years, after all. No way it would all fall apart because of one nosy Gryffindor.

Still… something about this time felt different. Because if Pegasus knew one thing about Sirius Black, it was this : once he started digging, he never stopped.

----------------------

Sirius sat perched on his bed, drumming his fingers against his knee in impatience.

“We need to get to the bottom of this,” he announced, glancing at James. “And I’ve got a plan.”

James looked up from his half-eaten apple, unimpressed. “Oh Merlin. What now?”

A grin spread across Sirius’s face, the kind that usually meant trouble. He leaned down and pulled out a worn, folded piece of parchment from under his bed.

The Marauder’s Map.

“We’ve got the perfect tool to keep an eye on Ravophine without sneaking around the castle like idiots,” he said, unfolding it with a flourish.

James let out a laugh. “So what, you’re stalking him now?”

“Exactly.” Sirius tapped the parchment with his wand. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Ink lines crawled across the paper, forming the familiar map of Hogwarts. Tiny dots began to appear, names moving about their business. Sirius scanned quickly.

“There. Emilius Ravophine.”

A single dot was moving through the dungeons, slow, deliberate.

James leaned closer. “Where’s he going at this hour?”

“That’s what we’re about to find out. Grab the Cloak, Prongs.”

James sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. “You’ve got no sense of self-preservation.”

“That’s why I’m more interesting than you.” Sirius threw the Invisibility Cloak over both of them, and the two slipped silently out of the dormitory.

They crouched behind a shadowed corner, the Map spread across James’s hands.

“There, see? Ravophine,” James whispered, pointing at the moving dot along the dungeon corridor.

Sirius frowned. “What’s he doing skulking around down there?”

“Looks like he doesn’t want to be seen.”

Under the cloak, they crept after him, keeping their distance. The dungeons were always quiet, but at this hour, they were eerily so.

Finally, the dot stopped. Sirius and James peered from behind a corner. Emilius Ravophine stood before a blank stretch of stone wall. He murmured something under his breath and pressed his hand against the cold surface.

For a moment, nothing happened, then faint lines began to shimmer across the stone, like someone tracing invisible runes with light.

Sirius’s eyes went wide. “See? I told you, he’s hiding something!”

James whispered back, “Wait… that wall isn’t just a wall, is it?”

Before either of them could speak again, the stone rippled softly, and an opening appeared. Ravophine slipped through without hesitation. The wall sealed itself shut behind him.

Both Gryffindors froze.

Sirius stared down at the Map, the dot labeled Emilius Ravophine flickered once, then vanished.

“Bloody hell, where did he go?” Sirius flipped the parchment as if that would make the name reappear.

James frowned. “There are only a handful of places in the castle that don’t show up on this map…”

They looked at each other. Same thought. A slow, incredulous grin spread across Sirius’s face. “No way.”

James narrowed his eyes. “You think he’s found the Room of Requirement?”

“Got a better explanation?” Sirius crossed his arms. “We’ve been looking for that bloody room for years, and he just waltzes right into it?”

James nodded slowly. “Makes sense, though. The room turns into whatever someone needs most. Maybe he’s got a hideout in there.”

Sirius scratched his chin. “Problem is, there’s no fixed entrance. If we don’t know how he opened it, we can’t follow.”

James clapped him on the shoulder. “Then we wait.”

That night, the two Gryffindors huddled in the dark corridor under the Invisibility Cloak, keeping watch.

But Emilius never came back.

By the time dawn broke, they were slumped against the wall, half-asleep, the Map slipping from James’s fingers.

When they finally stumbled into the Great Hall, hair a mess, eyes bleary, Emilius Ravophine was already there. Perfectly composed, sitting at the Slytherin table, casually biting into a fresh pumpkin pasty.

Sirius stopped dead. James groaned.

“How?” Sirius muttered. “Little shit! I told you he’s hiding something.”

“Maybe the only thing hidden,” James yawned, “is your sanity.”

Sirius glared toward the Slytherin table, jaw tight.

“This isn’t over, Ravophine,” he muttered under his breath.

------------------------------------

From that day on, Sirius and James took turns tailing Emilius Ravophine more closely than ever before.
Of course, they did it professionally, between the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak, they could track him anywhere without breaking a sweat.

Patience wasn’t their strong suit, but they knew how to wait for the right moment.
And that moment came three days later, when Ravophine was spotted wandering near the seventh floor.

Under the Cloak, they pressed themselves into a shadowy corner, eyes locked on the map.

“Alright… he’s moving toward—” Sirius muttered.

James watched as the tiny dot labeled Emilius Ravophine paced back and forth before a blank stretch of wall. Once. Twice. Three times.
And then, suddenly, a new room appeared on the parchment.

A door shimmered into existence on the wall before Emilius. He didn’t hesitate, just walked straight in.

Sirius grabbed James by the wrist. “Go!”

Before the entrance could vanish, the two bolted forward. Sirius seized the handle and shoved the door open.

Inside, Emilius Ravophine froze. His eyes widened as two very unwelcome intruders stepped through the doorway, the Cloak now gone.

For one long, loaded second, the three of them stared at one another.

Sirius broke the silence with a smirk.

“Well, hello there, Ravophine.”

Emilius blinked once. Twice. His mind scrambled for an explanation that made any sense.
Sirius Black and James Potter had just walked into the Room of Requirement.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant.

“Alright,” he said coolly, folding his arms. “How exactly did you two get in here?”

Sirius smirked. “Door wasn’t locked.”

James shrugged. “Bit of luck. Bit of genius.”

Emilius sighed through his nose. Inside, he was swearing creatively, but outside he stayed calm. “And why are you here? Following me?”

“Maybe,” Sirius said easily. “You make it too easy, Ravophine.”

James’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “So what’s this, then? Some secret project? Hidden stash? Dark ritual?”

Emilius shot them both a flat look. “You two have way too much free time.”

“That’s the thing about free time,” Sirius said, grinning wider. “We like to spend it… finding out what people don’t want us to.”

Emilius didn’t answer. He just stared at them, calculating, guarded, and for the first time, Sirius had the uneasy feeling that maybe he was the one being studied.

Emilius didn’t even flinch. “Nothing special. Just a quiet place to get away from people.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

James gave a low whistle, glancing around the room. “Doesn’t look like just a quiet place. How’d you even find this spot?”

“By looking for it,” Emilius replied flatly, arms crossed.

Sirius mimicked the pose, smirking. “Alright then, let’s see what’s really in here, shall we?”

“Wait—”

Too late. Sirius took a step back and let out a sharp whistle.

Instantly, the room began to shift.

The walls trembled; shelves slid across the floor like they were alive; the ground rippled underfoot as if a gust of invisible wind had swept through. Emilius felt his stomach drop.

Damn it. Why is the Room reacting to him?!

Sirius and James both froze for half a second, then their faces lit up with excitement.

“Bloody hell, did you see that, James?” Sirius grinned. “This place is definitely hiding something.”

James walked up to a freshly appeared bookshelf, eyes scanning the rows. “Don’t tell me you just come here to read, Ravophine. This looks more like a secret stash.”

Emilius clenched his fists, forcing his voice to stay calm. If they found anything important, he was done for.

“Alright, are you two finished being impressed yet?” he said, his tone deliberately bored. “Told you there’s nothing special.”

Sirius shot him a sharp look, lips curling into that infuriating half-smile.

“Nothing special, huh? Then why so jumpy, Ravophine?”

Emilius’s jaw tightened. Bloody persistent Black.

Before the tension could snap, the door creaked open behind them.

“Oi, Emil, what’s—” Pegasus stopped mid-sentence as his eyes landed on the scene.

Hayden stepped in right after him. His gaze swept over the room, then locked on Sirius and James. His expression darkened instantly.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he said, voice cold as steel.

James gave him a cheerful grin. “Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Why all the secrecy, gentlemen?”

Pegasus groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Bloody hell. I knew this would happen sooner or later.”

Emilius closed his eyes for a second, thinking fast. He needed a way to get these two idiots out before things got worse.

This is bad, he thought grimly. Really, really bad.

Sirius and James clearly had no intention of leaving. Both of them stood their ground, eyes gleaming with the thrill of having sniffed out something big.

“Alright, Ravophine,” Sirius said, arms crossed, head tilted in that infuriating way of his. “You gonna tell us what’s going on, or do I have to find out myself?”

Hayden shot Sirius a look sharp enough to cut glass, while Pegasus glanced anxiously at Emilius, waiting to see how his friend would handle it.

Emilius took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. Anything he said now could be used against him later.

“You think I’ve got some dark secret or something?” he replied coolly, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “This room’s just a quiet place to get away from annoying people like you.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Funny. We’ve been trying to find this place for years, and somehow you just happen to vanish here every time.”

Emilius shrugged. “Guess I’m lucky.”

James chuckled. “That’s a pretty boring answer, Ravophine.”

The air thickened, tension simmering like a live wire. If this went on any longer, the two Gryffindors would definitely uncover something they shouldn’t.

Hayden and Pegasus both seemed to realize it. Hayden arched an eyebrow at Emilius, silently asking if he should step in.

Pegasus sighed under his breath. “Bloody hell… I hate doing this.”

Before anyone could react, he stepped forward and clapped a hand on James’s shoulder.

“Hey, Potter,” he said casually. “I challenge you to a duel. Right now.”

James blinked. “What?”

Sirius turned to him, looking half-amused, half-bewildered. “You’re kidding, right?”

Pegasus gave an easy shrug. “You two are always bragging about your dueling skills. I figured I’d see what all the fuss is about.”

James stared for a moment, then grinned, eyes lighting up. “Oh, you’re on, Pony.”

Sirius still looked skeptical, but James was already fired up. He clapped Sirius on the shoulder.

“You keep interrogating Ravophine. I’ll deal with this one.”

Pegasus smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

He turned to Hayden. “You’re the referee.”

Hayden, who honestly just wanted the Gryffindors gone, glanced briefly at Emilius before nodding. “Fine by me.”

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but James had already dragged Pegasus to the other side of the corridor, excitement written all over his face.

Pegasus shot a quick look back at Emilius, Hurry up, I’m buying you time.

Emilius didn’t waste a second.

Hayden turned to Sirius. “Black, come on. You don’t wanna miss this fight, do you?”

Sirius hesitated, curiosity flickering stronger than suspicion. “...Fine.”

The moment the door closed behind them, Emilius exhaled sharply and went to work.

He moved quickly to the far corner, running a hand along the wall as though searching for something. Under his breath, he muttered a short incantation and flicked his wand.

A soft pulse of light rippled through the room. Instantly, the shelves, furniture, and traces of magic faded away. Within seconds, the Room of Requirement returned to its blank, stone-walled emptiness, no sign anyone had been there at all.

Just in time.

From down the hall, he could already hear the sounds of James and Pegasus wrapping up their “duel.”

Emilius adjusted his cloak, composed his expression, and stepped out just as Pegasus was muttering curses under his breath.

“Bloody hell, Potter,” Pegasus grumbled, brushing dust off his sleeve. “You weren’t supposed to dodge that hex.”

James laughed triumphantly. “It’s called strategy, Pony. You didn’t really think I’d just walk into your spell, did you?”

Hayden folded his arms. “Hmph. You would’ve had him if you hadn’t gotten cocky.”

Pegasus just sighed and looked at Emilius.

Emilius nodded, perfectly calm. “Let’s go.”

James frowned, studying him as if trying to spot something off, but all he saw was the same calm, detached Ravophine as always.

Sirius, though, wasn’t convinced. He muttered under his breath, “This isn’t over.”

Pegasus clapped him on the shoulder with a forced grin. “Sure, sure. But before you go playing detective again, we’re heading to dinner.”

James laughed. “Fine by me. I’m starving.”

The tension in the corridor eased as both groups drifted off in opposite directions. But none of them were really at peace.

----------------------

Sirius sat slouched against the headboard, wand spinning idly between his fingers, but his eyes were anything but relaxed. They were fixed on James across the room.

“Tell me something,” he said. “Don’t you think it’s strange?”

James didn’t even look up from the pillow he was half-buried in. “What’s strange this time?”

“Ravophine’s glasses.”

That got a lazy blink out of James. “His glasses?”

Sirius leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “He never takes them off. Ever.”

James frowned, halfway amused. “What, you’ve been keeping track?”

“I’m telling you,” Sirius insisted, voice low, sharp now. “I’ve seen him in every kind of weather, in class, at meals, quidditch, he always has them on. Doesn’t that bother you?”

James snorted. “Mate, if you were as blind as I am, you’d keep yours glued to your face too. Maybe the bloke just can’t see past his nose.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “Even when he doesn’t need to? Sleeping. Walking back from the shower. He keeps them on.”

James groaned. “You’re not telling me you’ve been—”

“I’m not watching him bathe, for Merlin’s sake,” Sirius snapped.

“I am not spying on him in the bath,” James cut in sharply.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Merlin’s sake, I’m not a pervert. I meant when he’s sleeping. Everyone takes their glasses off when they sleep.”

James rested his chin on his hand, half amused, half thoughtful. “Alright, fair point. But tell me, Sherlock, how exactly are you planning to sneak into his dorm and check?”

Sirius’s grin spread slow and mischievous. “My dear James, need I remind you, we have the Marauder’s Map. And the Invisibility Cloak.”

James stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing. “I can’t believe this. We’re actually using our best tools to stalk a Slytherin’s glasses.”

Sirius just smirked, the kind of smirk that usually ended in detention. “You say stalk. I say investigate.”

-----------------

The dungeon corridor was cold enough to bite. The torches flickered with a greenish glow, throwing long, shifting shadows across the stone. Beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Sirius and James moved soundlessly until they reached the dead end that hid the Slytherin common room.

James squinted at the blank wall. “That’s it? Doesn’t look like much of an entrance.”

“That’s the point,” Sirius muttered, eyes glinting.

They waited, pressed against the damp stones. No footsteps. No sound. The castle slept.

James sighed. “So? We just stand here until someone strolls by and lets us in?”

Sirius tilted his head, smirking faintly. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Before James could ask, Sirius bent down, picked up a small pebble, and flicked it toward the wall. The clack echoed sharply down the empty hall.

“Are you insane?” James hissed.

Sirius raised a finger to his lips.

A moment later, the stones rippled , literally moved as a section of the wall twisted and split open. From the crack, a massive stone serpent emerged, its emerald eyes glowing faintly. It lifted its head, tongue flicking the air, and hissed in a low, resonant voice:

“Password.”

James froze. “Bloody hell—”

The snake’s head turned slowly toward the sound, though it couldn’t see them through the Cloak. Sirius barely breathed.

Then, by sheer luck, footsteps echoed from behind them, a Slytherin prefect, yawning, clearly returning late. The boy approached, completely unaware that two invisible Gryffindors were pressed flat against the wall beside him.

“Pure intent,” the prefect muttered lazily.

The serpent’s eyes flashed once, then sank back into the ground as the wall slid open, revealing a passage beyond.

Sirius didn’t hesitate, he grabbed James by the sleeve, and both of them slipped through just as the entrance sealed shut again.

Inside, the Slytherin common room was a cathedral of shadows, all green light and dark water reflections from the Black Lake beyond the windows. The air was colder here, heavier, and even the fire in the hearth burned with a faintly greenish flame.

Sirius exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at his lips. “Told you I could get us in.”

James shot him a look. “You also nearly got us eaten by a rock snake, in case you forgot.”

They ducked behind a tall armchair near the fireplace.

There, sitting alone by the fire, was Emilius Ravophine. The boy looked utterly at ease, legs crossed, a book balanced on his knee. The light gilded his hair in golden, softening the sharp edges of his silhouette.

Sirius watched, frown deepening. Something about him didn’t sit right. Every detail stood out: the tilt of his head, the measured turn of a page, yet his face refused to stay in focus. The more Sirius tried to remember it, the more it blurred, as though the air around him warped the image.

James leaned close, whispering, “You’re staring, mate. Planning to fall in love or something?”

“Shut up,” Sirius hissed.

But James peered over again, brow furrowing. “Weird. I’m looking straight at him and… I still can’t picture his face. Like, there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just—” he searched for words “—forgettable in a really unnatural way.”

Sirius’s stomach tightened. So it wasn’t just him.

“He’s hiding something,” Sirius murmured. “Bet my wand on it. He’s enchanted himself somehow.”

James frowned. “To make his own face unnoticeable? Who does that?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to be remembered,” Sirius said, eyes glinting. “And that’s exactly the kind of person I don’t trust.”

At that moment, Ravophine closed his book, stood, and started toward the dormitory stairs.

Sirius nudged James. “Come on.”

They followed silently under the Cloak, hearts pounding in unison. But as they reached the base of the staircase—

Thunk.

Sirius’s boot struck something hard.

The steps shuddered, then flattened into a slick, sliding ramp. Both boys went down in a heap, tumbling silently but spectacularly onto the floor below.

“Merlin’s bloody beard—” Sirius hissed.

James bit back laughter. “You forgot, didn’t you? Slytherins ward their dorms against intruders.”

“Would’ve been nice if you’d mentioned that earlier!” Sirius snapped.

Before James could answer, a voice echoed down from the staircase.

“Who’s there?”

Sirius and James froze.

The firelight flickered.

Somewhere behind them, the stone serpent stirred again, its eyes beginning to glow.

And Sirius muttered under his breath, “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. We’re dead.”

A figure appeared at the top of the staircase, holding a wand that glowed faint green. Sirius’s stomach dropped. Regulus.

The younger Black swept his wand around the room, eyes sharp and steady. For one terrifying second, Sirius thought those eyes had landed right on him.

Then Regulus muttered, “Probably just the wards,” and turned back toward the stairs.

James didn’t breathe until the footsteps faded away. “Well. That was fun.”

Sirius glared at him. “I hate that kid.”

James grinned. “He didn’t even do anything.”

“Existing counts.”

They waited a few beats longer before sneaking back toward the entrance. Only when the door sealed shut did they finally let out the breaths they’d been holding.

James shook his head. “Getting in was a nightmare. Getting out was worse.”

Sirius ignored him, his mind already racing. “One thing’s clear. Ravophine never takes off those glasses. Not once. If we want to know what’s behind them, we’ll have to make him take them off himself.”

James smirked. “Accidentally on purpose, you mean?”

Sirius’s grin turned sharp. “Exactly.”

James chuckled. “I’m listening.”

Sirius leaned in, whispered the plan.

When he finished, James burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said, straightening up. “But it’ll work.”

James grinned wider. “Tomorrow, then. We make Ravophine take off those damn glasses, for the first time ever.”

Chapter Text

Hayden Alert never thought of himself as someone born with any kind of advantage.

He wasn’t brilliant like his father: a former Ravenclaw who had graduated top of his year and firmly believed that wit and intellect were the only things that mattered.

He wasn’t gifted, or even particularly promising, like some of the other students at Hogwarts. And when the Sorting Hat finally declared him a Hufflepuff, his father didn’t write to him for the first three months.

His mother tried to make excuses “He’s just been busy, dear” but Hayden knew better. His father wasn’t busy. He was disappointed.

He wasn’t clever enough for Ravenclaw.
Not bold enough for Gryffindor.
Not ambitious enough for Slytherin.
And perhaps… not even diligent enough to truly deserve being a Hufflepuff.

But at least, he had Emilius Ravophine and Pegasus Grey.

He’d met them when he was eight years old, at one of his father’s Ministry galas.

Those parties were the sort of place where everything gleamed too much, crystal chandeliers, champagne laughter, the quiet hum of politics disguised as politeness. Hayden Alert, small and stiff in his formal robes, sat alone at the edge of a long banquet table, clutching a lukewarm butterbeer. He didn’t know anyone, and no one cared to know him. His father had brought him along, hoping he would “learn from the right kind of children.”

But they were all so perfect, so polished and untouchable, that Hayden felt smaller with every passing minute.

He stared down at his drink, wishing he could disappear, or at least find an excuse to sneak outside.

And then, quite suddenly, someone grabbed his wrist.

“Bring him along, Emil,” a bright, mischievous voice said.

“He looks less annoying than the rest of these snobs.”

The boy who’d spoken had a shock of fiery red hair and a grin that dared the world to stop him. The other boy, golden-haired wearing an big black glasses , gave Hayden a brief glance, sighed softly, but didn’t protest.

Before Hayden could even ask what was happening, the two of them had dragged him off into the crowd.

They slipped through the crowd of adults deep in conversation, weaving between long robes and floating candles, until they found a quiet spot behind a marble column where no one bothered to look.

“What are you standing there for? Come on, sit down!” the red-haired boy said, tugging Hayden down beside him.

He grinned, pulled out a battered old wand, Merlin knew where he’d got it, and gave it an eager flick. A spark of blue light shot out, hit the tablecloth nearby, and made it curl up like a startled animal. Hayden’s eyes went wide.

The boy laughed in delight. The blond one with the glasses didn’t even flinch.

After a few more reckless flicks of the wand, the redhead finally remembered his manners.

“I’m Pegasus Grey,” he said.

The name wasn’t unfamiliar to Hayden.

Even at first glance, Pegasus Grey radiated the polish of an old wizarding family. His fiery hair glowed under the chandelier light, his features sharp and confident. For an eight-year-old, he already carried himself like someone who knew the world would make space for him. The Greys were a pure-blood family with power and prestige to spare, both his parents held high positions at the Ministry, and from what Hayden had overheard at dinner parties, the Greys were not the sort of people anyone dared to cross.

And yet Pegasus himself didn’t seem to care about any of that. He treated decorum like a joke, waving that worn-out wand around with glee, laughing whenever it managed to spark, and dragging Hayden along as if he’d been part of their little duo all along.

He jabbed a thumb toward his quiet friend.

“And that moody one over there’s Emilius Ravophine. Don’t let the face fool you, he’s completely mental.”

Hayden’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, Ravophine? As in… Roderick Ravophine’s son? The Auror legend?”

Emilius didn’t even look up. He just murmured, “Yeah.”

“Your dad’s Roderick Ravophine,” Hayden stammered, half-rising from the floor. “The man who made even the Dark Lord cautious, Dumbledore’s equal, and—”

Pegasus burst out laughing, clapping Hayden on the shoulder.

“Easy there, mate. He’s heard it all his life. You could scream it from the ceiling and he still wouldn’t blink.”
Hayden shut his mouth, cheeks burning, but his heart was still hammering.

He couldn’t believe it: an ordinary nobody like him sitting next to the son of one of the greatest wizards alive.

But what surprised him most was that Emilius Ravophine didn’t act the part at all.

He wasn’t proud, or distant, or even particularly interested. Just quiet. Calm. As if all the glory in the world meant nothing to him.

Emilius caught the look on his face and only shrugged.
“You already know my father’s name. What about yours?”

“Hayden Alert,” he replied quickly, then gave a small, sheepish laugh. “Nothing special about my family, really.”

Both Pegasus and Emilius raised their brows, exchanging a glance that made Hayden feel as though he’d just said something utterly absurd.

“So what?” Pegasus said. “We don’t care what your family does.”

Hayden froze for a second. Pegasus clearly wasn’t the sort to mince words, and Emilius: quieter, more composed, watched him with that steady gaze of his. Yet neither of them looked mocking, or even remotely condescending.

Emilius was the one to break the moment.

“Let’s go somewhere else, before someone notices.”

“Good idea!” Pegasus grinned, tugging both of them toward the far end of the hall, where a floating trolley of enchanted pastries had just arrived.

Hayden followed, half dazed. One of them was the son of a legendary Auror. The other, heir to one of the oldest pure-blood houses in Britain.

And he, well, he was just Hayden Alert.

But as he watched Pegasus’s mischievous grin and the quiet curve of Emilius’s mouth, almost a smile, though gone as soon as it appeared, he realized it didn’t seem to matter.

From that moment on, they were inseparable.

Pegasus was always the one stirring up trouble, never content to sit still.

Emilius was the calm between storms, sharp-minded, careful, and quietly protective, though his affection often hid behind a wall of cool indifference.

And Hayden, he wasn’t as clever as Emilius, nor as daring as Pegasus, but somehow, they never made him feel lesser for it.

To Hayden, Emilius was like an older brother, aloof, sometimes infuriating, but always there when it mattered.

And Pegasus… Pegasus was a whirlwind, a chaos of laughter and fire, who made every dull thing in the world seem worth living through.

At first, Hayden figured Emilius Ravophine had to be exactly what everyone said he was: some stuck-up, polished little aristocrat: proper, cold, and way too serious for his age.

But after spending time with him, Hayden realized how off that picture was. Sure, Emilius didn’t talk much, but he had this quiet kind of warmth about him. He’d notice when someone was having a rough time, step in when it mattered, and never make a big deal out of it. He wasn’t the type to judge or gossip, just... there, steady and calm, in that strangely comforting way of his.

Still, what really surprised Hayden was how un-perfect Emilius actually was. He was ridiculously smart, yeah, but also unbelievably lazy. He only ever did things when he felt like it and when he didn’t, good luck trying to get him to move an inch. Most of the time, he was cool and collected, almost too much so, but when his temper flared, he could be sharp-tongued enough to slice someone in half with a single comment. The kind of quiet, effortless sarcasm that could make a kid cry without him even raising his voice.

And he never bothered pretending to be someone he wasn’t. If he didn’t like you, you’d know. He didn’t fake politeness or suck up to people with fancy titles. But if he did care about you, he’d stand by you no matter what fierce, loyal, and completely unapologetic about it.

Even as a kid, Emilius couldn’t stand all those pompous “pure-blood elites.” The ones who strutted around like they owned the world just because their ancestors had a few centuries of magic behind them. He called them out without blinking “a bunch of inbred idiots clinging to their surnames,” he’d mutter under his breath, and Hayden had seen more than one of those kids turn red with rage, unable to think of a comeback.

But what floored Hayden most was how Emilius talked about the Dark Lord.

“Just a delusional lunatic,” he’d said once.

Hayden could still remember how his jaw had practically hit the floor. He just stared at Emilius, completely frozen, like the boy had just blurted out the most forbidden thing imaginable.

But Emilius only shrugged, sipping his butterbeer like he’d just commented on the weather.

Pegasus, meanwhile, nearly choked to death on his drink, laughing so hard the foam sloshed over the rim.

“Oh, Merlin! Emil, you’ve got a bloody death wish, don’t you?”

Hayden still couldn’t find his voice. Did he really just call the Dark Lord insane? Just like that? No whispering, no hesitation….nothing?

Emilius didn’t even bother looking up.

“What’s there to be afraid of? It’s the truth.”

Pegasus snorted. “Sure, but maybe try not saying it out loud? You just called the Dark Lord a lunatic, in the middle of a Ministry gala, with half the Auror Office sitting ten feet away!”

Emilius tilted his head slightly, his tone utterly casual.
“Right. I should’ve gone with ‘a deranged bat with a power complex,’ shouldn’t I?”

That did it. Pegasus burst out laughing so hard he fell right off his chair. Hayden could only shake his head, half horrified, half impressed.

From that moment on, he knew one thing for certain, Emilius Ravophine wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. He didn’t care about titles, power, or reputation; if someone rubbed him the wrong way, even if it was the most feared wizard alive, he’d still look them straight in the eye and call them out.

And Hayden couldn’t decide whether that made him admire Emilius more: or fear for his life a little bit.

————————

Hayden Alert had never thought of himself as clever, certainly not clever enough to notice when someone was playing him.

So when Sirius Black and James Potter suddenly started being… nice to him, he didn’t suspect a thing.

It began innocently enough. They’d caught him in the library one afternoon, chatting about Quidditch, joking about McGonagall, tossing in a few harmless questions about what life was like in Hufflepuff. Hayden, being Hayden, answered everything. He laughed easily, too open for his own good.

He didn’t notice how neatly the conversation curved toward Emilius Ravophine.

“You and Ravophine seem very close, huh?” James asked casually.

“Yeah,” Hayden said, smiling. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

Sirius hummed. “Funny. He doesn’t strike me as the type who makes friends easily.”

Hayden chuckled. “He’s actually really kind. He just doesn’t like to show it.”

Neither Sirius nor James said anything, but their eyes flicked toward each other, just a spark of something sharp and knowing.

That should’ve been Hayden’s first warning.

A few days later, a group of Hufflepuffs were whispering near the common room about a cat stuck near the Whomping Willow: tiny, terrified, crying its lungs out.

And Hayden, being the sort of person who’d stop for an injured beetle, didn’t even think twice. He ran.

He never saw Sirius and James lingering in the shadows, exchanging a quick, satisfied look before following.

It hadn’t started as something cruel. Sirius and James weren’t trying to hurt anyone. They just wanted to rattle Ravophine.

And that was no easy task.

Emilius Ravophine was impossible to catch off guard: always too calm, too aware, too sharp. The kind of boy who saw through tricks before they even began. He never got dragged into trouble, never flinched, never fell for any of the Marauders’ pranks.

So, if they wanted to make him drop his guard, they’d have to hit where he’d least expect it.

Hayden.

Ravophine treated Hayden like a little brother, maybe the only person in Hogwarts he genuinely cared about beside Pegasus Grey. And Hayden, bless him, was exactly the kind of fool who’d sprint headfirst into danger if he thought someone, or something, needed help.

That’s all Sirius needed.

They spread the rumor just loud enough for Ravophine to hear: Hayden Alert, spotted near the Whomping Willow, trying to save a trapped cat.

It worked faster than either of them imagined.

It didn’t even take a full minute. The moment the words reached him, Emilius snapped his book shut and shot to his feet.

Pegasus, sitting nearby, took one look at him and rose too.

Neither spoke. They just took off running out of the library, through the courtyard, straight toward the edge of the grounds where the Whomping Willow swayed lazily under the grey afternoon sky, its branches curling like claws waiting for prey.

————-

From their hiding spot behind the tall grass, James and Sirius waited, hearts beating fast with the thrill of mischief.

To them, this wasn’t anything serious, just another harmless prank. They had done far worse before.

When they saw Hayden approaching the Whomping Willow, Sirius nudged James with his elbow, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Wait till he gets a little closer,” he whispered.

James frowned, though not convincingly. “You sure about this?”

“Relax,” Sirius murmured, eyes gleaming. “Just a small scare. That’s all.”

He flicked his wand.

A pebble zipped through the air and struck the gnarled trunk of the Willow.

The tree came alive at once.

Its thick branches cracked and groaned, thrashing wildly against the ground. The sound of splintering wood echoed through the courtyard, sharp and violent.

Hayden froze, staring in horror. He had heard stories about the Whomping Willow, but none of them felt real until now. The branches were moving like serpents, sweeping through the air with enough force to shatter stone.

Still, he hesitated. Somewhere in his mind lingered the thought of the cat he had come to save, and he took another cautious step forward.

“HAYDEN! GET BACK!”

The shout sliced through the air.

Emilius Ravophine was sprinting toward him, faster than Hayden had ever seen. His Slytherin robes whipped behind him, and for once, his face was stripped of its usual calm. He looks terrified.

Pegasus ran close behind, pale and breathless. When he spotted James and Sirius half-hidden in the distance, he understood immediately. His expression hardened.

“Bloody idiots,” he muttered, before breaking into a sprint.

The Willow swung again. One enormous branch came crashing down, striking the ground with a thunderous crack. Hayden stumbled backward, lost his balance, and fell.

Emilius reached him just in time. He grabbed Hayden’s arm, pulled him to his feet, and shoved him out of reach. The next branch whooshed past, so close it stirred the air around them.

It caught the edge of Emilius’s shoulder, knocking him off balance. His glasses flew from his face, skidding across the grass before disappearing into the dirt.

For the first time, Sirius Black and James Potter saw Emilius Ravophine’s face clearly.

And for a brief, breathless moment, both Marauders forgot how to laugh.

Without the thick glasses to hide behind, his eyes were the first thing they noticed: green, sharp, and impossibly vivid, the kind of green that seemed almost alive. Yet it wasn’t only that. Emilius Ravophine, stripped of that familiar barrier, looked almost unreal. Every line of his face was too precise, too perfectly composed, as if he had been carved rather than born. The last light of evening brushed across his skin like silver dust. He was beautiful, in a way that made you hesitate to look too long. There was something haunting about him, something not quite human.

“Emil! Are you okay?” Hayden’s voice cracked as he stumbled forward, clutching at his friend’s arm with shaking hands.

Emilius didn’t answer. He only blinked slowly, as though the world around him hadn’t quite come back into focus.
Pegasus was the first to move. He stormed toward them, voice breaking through the heavy silence. “What the hell were you thinking?”

James and Sirius froze. They weren’t looking at Pegasus or even at the violent sweep of the Whomping Willow’s branches. They were still staring at Emilius.

Emilius reached down, searching blindly for his glasses, the one thing he had never taken off in front of anyone. But before his fingers could touch them, one massive branch swung down and slammed into the ground.
The crack was deafening.

The glasses shattered into pieces.

For a long moment, Emilius didn’t move. He just stood there, frozen, his hand suspended in the air, the fading light catching in those unnaturally bright green eyes. It wasn’t anger that filled them but something quieter and heavier, like someone watching the walls around him crumble after years of careful building.

Pegasus’s fists tightened. His voice trembled with fury. “You absolute idiots. You brought Hayden here, near that tree? Do you even realize what could’ve happened?”

Sirius opened his mouth, but nothing came out. For once, he had no excuse and no clever retort.

James swallowed hard. “We just... we only meant to scare him a little.”

“Scare him?” Pegasus’s voice cracked with disbelief. “You nearly got them both killed, Potter. What did Hayden ever done to you??”

Emilius still didn’t look at them. He only stared down at the broken shards scattered on the grass, and for a moment it seemed as though something inside him had shattered with them.

James opened his mouth to argue but no words came out. Sirius just stood there, frozen, his eyes still fixed on Emilius.

He’d seen beautiful people before, girls who turned heads when they walked into a room, boys who carried the kind of careless charm that made them magnetic. But Emilius Ravophine wasn’t simply beautiful. There was something otherworldly about him, something that made Sirius feel as if he were staring at a creature that didn’t quite belong in this world. And those eyes, now unshielded by glass, were hypnotic in a way Sirius had never seen before.

“What are you staring at?!” Pegasus hissed, his voice sharp with fury when he caught their stunned expressions. “Happy now? Was this what you wanted?”

James stammered, “W-we didn’t think the tree would actually be that dangerous! It was just a harmless prank—”

“Harmless?” Pegasus’s voice rose, trembling with anger.

Sirius didn’t answer. He couldn’t seem to look away from Emilius, but Emilius no longer spared either of them a glance. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then turned to Hayden, his expression softening.

“Are you hurt?”

Hayden shook his head too quickly. Emilius didn’t believe him. He brushed his hands over Hayden’s shoulders, checking for any sign of injury, his grip so tight it made Hayden wince.

“I’m fine,” Hayden protested. “You’re the one who almost got your neck snapped, Emil!”

But Emilius ignored that. He only brushed the dirt from Hayden’s sleeve, and when he was certain his friend was unharmed, his shoulders finally eased.

James opened his mouth again, but no words came. For the first time, he realized their little game might have gone far beyond what they intended. Sirius was silent too, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. Emilius, though, didn’t look at either of them. He simply took Hayden’s wrist and turned to Pegasus.

“Let’s go.”

Pegasus shoved James in the chest, voice shaking with rage. “I don’t ever want to see either of you again.”

James blinked, startled by the rawness of that tone. “Come on, Pony, don’t make it such a big deal—”

“A big deal?” Pegasus laughed harshly. “You almost got someone killed! And I was stupid enough to think the two of you were worth calling friends.”

Sirius finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual, uncertain. “We just meant to mess around a little—”

“Mess around?” Pegasus cut him off, his voice shaking. “They could have died, Sirius. Do you get that?”

Anger burned bright in his eyes, but beneath it there was something else, disappointment, and a kind of heartbreak. “This isn’t a game. Did either of you stop for one second to think what could’ve happened?”

Sirius’s throat worked, but no sound came out. James’s fists clenched at his sides; he wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t what Pegasus thought, but the words wouldn’t come.

Pegasus gave a bitter laugh and shook his head. “I thought you two were different. I thought you weren’t like the rest of those arrogant, pure-blood bastards out there.” His voice dropped, quiet and cold. “But I was wrong.”

James’s heart lurched. “That’s not fair—”

“Not fair?” Pegasus’s smile was sharp. “Then tell me what it is. The way you’ve been after Emil since the start, just because he’s a Slytherin who’s better than you? You talk about hating blood purity, but you’re no different from the ones you despise.”

James’s mouth opened, then closed again. Part of him wanted to shout that Pegasus was wrong, but another part, the honest one, knew he didn’t have an answer.

Sirius muttered through clenched teeth, “I’m not like them. We just—”

“Just what?” Pegasus’s eyes blazed. “You hate Slytherins so much that you can’t stand to see one of them being decent? Or maybe you thought Hayden’s life didn’t matter because he’s not a Gryffindor?”

“Pegasus, don’t waste your breath.”

Emilius’s voice was cold, steady, and it came without him even turning around.

“They’re not worth it. Not even a little.”

Pegasus looked at the two boys one last time, his gaze filled with fury, disappointment, and something that almost resembled grief.

“From now on,” he said quietly, “we are no longer friends.”

And with that, he turned and followed Emilius, never once looking back.

---

Chapter Text

BOOM!

The door exploded off its hinges, torn apart by an unseen force and sent flying like a scrap of paper. Through the swirling haze of dust, a figure stepped forward.
Roderick Ravophine stood in the doorway, fury made flesh. His green eyes burned with danger, and the wand in his hand trembled, not from fear, but from the barely restrained storm of rage within him.

“Let my son go.”

With a single motion, a surge of crimson light burst from his wand. The man screamed as he was hurled across the room, crashing into the stone wall with a sickening crack. His body convulsed, a pitiful sound tearing from his throat like that of a wounded animal.

Roderick didn’t stop.

A flick of his wrist, quick and precise, and the ropes binding Emilius snapped apart. In the next breath, a strong yet gentle hand caught the boy before he could fall.

“Dad…”

The tremor in that voice was enough to shatter what little control Roderick still held.

He didn’t dare look at his son, because if he did, the fury boiling in his veins would consume everything.

He turned back instead, eyes glinting with cold cruelty as they fixed on the man who had dared to harm his child.

“Crucio.”

The scream that followed ripped through the air.

Emilius remembered little after that. Only the sight of his father, terrifying and untouchable in his wrath.

Later, some Aurors would whisper that if they hadn’t stopped him in time, Roderick Ravophine would have cast the Killing Curse

————————-

A few days later, his parents created a magical pair of glasses.

“This will protect you.”

His mother placed them gently on his small face, her touch tender, her eyes soft, but behind that softness lay an ache beyond words.

The glasses were more than a disguise. They blurred Emilius’s presence from the eyes of others, as though a veil had been drawn over him. Whether someone found him beautiful or not, loved him or despised him, it no longer mattered. Every feeling, every trace of attention toward him faded before it could fully form.

From that day on, he never took them off again.

Of course, a few people close to him had seen his true face, Pegasus, Hayden, even… Dracy, once. But only them.

For everyone else, the glasses became an invisible wall, a quiet barrier between Emilius and the world. No one looked at him for too long anymore. No one was drawn to the beauty that should never have existed in the first place.

He told himself he was fine with that. Or at least, he thought he was, until the glasses shattered.

Emilius hid inside the Room of Requirement for three whole days, never once stepping outside. But he didn’t panic. He didn’t tremble or rush to find a way to cover himself.

He just… felt empty.

He sat there in that vast, silent room, staring at the shards in his hands, the remains of the enchantment that had followed him all his life, now nothing more than splinters of glass glinting under candlelight.

Only Pegasus and Hayden came by regularly, bringing letters, food, and their quiet determination to help. Together, they combed through the library, searching spell after spell for something that might serve as a temporary replacement. But nothing truly worked.

Then, that morning, an owl arrived with a letter from his mother. Emilius unfolded it, eyes tracing the soft, graceful handwriting filled with worry:

My dear Emil,

I know you’re anxious. I’m sorry I can’t send you a new pair of glasses right away. The enchantment is complex, your father is the only one who can perform it, and he’s currently away on assignment in America. It will be at least a month before he returns. I’ve tried finding alternatives, but none are as safe or stable as your original pair.

I know you’re not afraid, Emilius. You’re stronger than you think. But I also know how used you’ve become to your shield. Without it, it must feel as though the whole world is staring at you, and there’s nothing you can do to hide.

But my dear, you don’t have to hide from anyone. You are Emilius Ravophine, with or without the glasses, you are still yourself. And there will always be people who stay by your side, not because of any spell, but because you are you.

“One month?!”

Pegasus gawked, almost dropping the book he was holding. “You can’t seriously stay hidden here for a whole month!”

“You’ve already been gone for three days,” he went on, clearly annoyed. “Even Dracy asked me where the hell you went.”

Emilius raised an eyebrow. “Dracy?”

“Yeah!” Pegasus nodded. “You disappeared for three days and even he came to ask me. I barely made it through his snarky tone, and now you’re telling me you’re gonna hide for another month?”

Emilius let out a short breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“Forget him. He’s not worth your time.”

“Forget him? Are you kidding?” Pegasus shot back. “You think he’s the only one who’s noticed? The professors are starting to wonder too. Yesterday, McGonagall asked if you’d come down with some long-term illness.”

Hayden nodded quietly. “They’ll find out sooner or later.”

Emilius didn’t answer. His eyes moved to the mountain of spellbooks on the table. They’d searched through every charm they could find, every dusty old page in the library, but nothing worked. Nothing could replace the glasses.

Without them, he felt like he was standing bare under the world’s stare.

Still, hiding forever wasn’t an option.

He looked at Pegasus, the redhead hunched over a pile of books, face tense in concentration. In all the years they’d known each other, Emilius had never seen Pony study this hard. By Merlin, normally the guy would’ve dozed off by now or torn out a page to fold a paper frog just for fun.

But now, Pegasus was frowning down at the text, quill tapping lightly against the desk in rhythm with his thoughts.

He was looking for a solution. For something to help Emilius, to give him back what he’d lost.

No one said it, but both Emilius and Hayden knew, what happened with the James group had hit Pegasus harder than he’d ever admit.

Pegasus wasn’t the clingy type, but still, James, Sirius, Pegasus, and Remus. They’d been a team. The troublemakers, the laughter echoing in empty hallways, the ones sprinting from Filch and Mrs. Norris in the middle of the night.

And now? It was gone.

Pegasus never talked about it, but his silence said enough. The way he buried himself in books something so unlike him said even more.

Emilius narrowed his eyes a little and exhaled slowly. He wasn’t the comforting kind, and he had no intention of pretending things were fine. But seeing Pony like this… felt off.

After a moment, he reached over and yanked the book out of Pegasus’s hands.

“Hey! What was that for?” Pegasus snapped.

“You’re not gonna talk about it?”

“About what?” Pegasus snatched the book back.

“About how you’ve been acting like a Ravenclaw for three days straight,” Emilius said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d been possessed.”

Pegasus flipped another page without looking at him. “What matters right now is fixing your problem, not mine.”

Emilius leaned on his hand, still watching him in silence.
Finally, Pegasus sighed and slammed the book shut.

“Fine. I admit it.” He rubbed the back of his head in frustration. “I’m… a little pissed.”

“A little?”

“Okay, very pissed,” Pegasus muttered. “But so what? It’s not like I’m running back to them.”

Emilius gave a small, crooked smile. “You don’t have to. Just don’t act like you don’t care.”

The room fell quiet.

Pegasus stared down at the table, his expression shifting for a moment before he looked up again, forcing a grin.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Hayden’s voice was soft, almost too quiet to hear. “If I hadn’t been stupid enough to believe those two, maybe things wouldn’t have turned out like this.”

Pegasus cut him off instantly. “No. You’re wrong, Hayden.”

He leaned back, eyes steady and sharp. “That whole mess just showed me what idiots they are. I don’t regret walking away.”

Hayden’s hands clenched on the edge of the desk, knuckles white. He stared down at the wood like it could answer something for him. After a long pause, he sighed, his voice low.

“But still… it’s hard not to feel a bit sorry.”

Pegasus went quiet for a moment. Then he laughed, a short, dry sound, with no trace of humor in it.

“What’s there to sorry? That they messed around with my friends’ lives? That I trusted the wrong people? Or that I didn’t figure it out sooner?”

His voice was flat, but his eyes were sharp, cold

Emilius didn’t move, still resting his chin on his hand, his face calm as ever. When he finally spoke, his tone was strangely even.

“You regret it because you still care.”

Pegasus froze.

For a second, something flickered in his expression. Then he blinked, lowered his eyes, and hid it behind that usual wall of indifference.

He turned a page without looking up. “Whether I care or not doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “What matters is I’m done with them.”

Silence hung between them for a while, until Emilius asked, almost casually,

“What about Black?”

Both Pegasus and Hayden looked up.

Emilius stayed calm, tapping his fingers lightly against the table. “That day, both Potter and Black saw my face. What did he do?”

Pegasus and Hayden exchanged a look, then Pegasus shrugged.

“He didn’t do anything. Didn’t say anything either. Just… stared.”

Emilius frowned slightly. “Stared?”

Hayden nodded. “Yeah. Like he’d just seen some kind of rare magical creature that wasn’t supposed to exist.”

Pegasus let out a low snort. “In other words, he was shocked. I mean, everyone thought you looked normal before. Not ugly, not special. Then suddenly, bam, your real face shows up and you look like you walked out of a painting. You really think Sirius Black wouldn’t lose it?”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Honestly, that was the first time I’ve ever seen him look confused. Totally thrown off. He hasn’t brought it up since, but sometimes he just… zones out. You know, that blank look on his face? Yeah.”

Emilius didn’t answer. His lips curved just a little, like he was amused.

“You seem pretty chill about it,” Pegasus said.

“What do you expect me to do? Go talk to him?”

“Fair point,” Pegasus said with a shrug. “Still weird, though. Usually when people talk about your face, you don’t even blink. Now you’re asking about it? That’s new.”

Emilius flipped a page lazily. “Just curious.”

Pegasus gave him a look. “You? Curious about what someone else thinks? That’s new.”

Emilius just smirked, didn’t reply. Pegasus and Hayden traded glances. They didn’t say anything, but both of them felt something was a bit… off.

“I think I found it!”

Hayden suddenly slammed a book down in front of Emilius. The old pages were covered in weird brownish writing, probably ink. Or dried blood.

Emilius leaned in to read. “Morphing Charm,” he murmured.

A high-level spell that could change or hide facial features for long periods of time. Not some cheap illusion trick first-years used for pranks, but a serious piece of magic, the kind that needed real power and focus to pull off.

He looked up at them, skeptical. “Where’d you even get this?”

Pegasus propped a hand on his hip, completely unfazed.

“Library. Restricted Section.”

“…I shouldn’t have asked.”

———————-

Sirius couldn’t stop thinking about Emilius’s real face.

So beautiful. Why hide it?

When Emilius took off his glasses, it felt as though the whole world stopped breathing. Nothing monstrous appeared. It was the opposite. His face was too perfect, too unreal. Sirius could still see it in his mind: those deep, cold eyes that seemed to look straight through him, the sharp lines of his brows, the flawless skin.

Everything about him was too precise, too refined, as if he didn’t quite belong to this world.

And in that moment, Sirius understood.
Emilius hadn’t been hiding something ugly.

He’d been hiding something that wasn’t meant to be seen.

That kind of beauty was a barrier, a line no one was meant to cross.

The problem was, Sirius wasn’t the only one losing his mind over it. The one really falling apart was James.
“Pony, come on, just listen to me.”

Every night after dinner, James Potter dragged himself back to the dorm looking like a kicked puppy, then threw himself toward Pegasus’s bed with a desperate hope that maybe tonight would be different.

It never was.

The curtains slammed shut the second he spoke.
And not just curtains, wards, solid and unbreakable. Sirius had watched James try everything: pulling the drapes, yanking the blankets, using unlocking charms, even casting cutting spells. Every time, he was thrown backward like a rag doll.

Daytime wasn’t any better. Pegasus had set a spell that kept James at least four meters away from him at all times.
By the third time he hit the floor, James just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Where did he even learn that?”

Remus didn’t look up from his book.

“Who do you think his best friend is?”
James groaned, fingers clutching his messy hair. “But I said I was sorry! I am sorry!”

Remus didn’t answer.

He didn’t defend James or Sirius, didn’t comfort them, didn’t say anything like He’ll forgive you eventually. Because the truth was, what they had done wasn’t something you could just forgive.

It had been a joke. That’s what they called it. But since when did a joke almost cost someone their life?
Remus stared down at the page, though the words had stopped making sense. He couldn’t be as cold as Pegasus, couldn’t cut people off like that.

Not because he wasn’t angry. He was. Furious, even.
But if it had been anyone else, maybe he could have walked away. The problem was, he couldn’t.

To him, James, Sirius, and Pegasus weren’t just friends. They were the ones who stood by him when no one else would, the ones who didn’t flinch when they found out what he really was. Without them, there wouldn’t even be a Remus Lupin sitting here now. He owed them too much.

So he couldn’t hate James or Sirius. He couldn’t look at them the way Pegasus did, with that sharp, final look that said we’re done here.

Pegasus Grey wasn’t like him. Pegasus didn’t have a deadly secret to protect. He was direct, logical to the point of cruelty. Once he made a decision, there was no turning back.

Remus wasn’t built that way.
He didn’t have it in him to hate the people who once saved him. But he couldn’t pretend nothing had happened either.

So he stayed there, watching James and Sirius tear themselves apart in silence, knowing they were wrong, knowing Pegasus had every right to walk away, and still, all he could do was sigh.

“James, do you know what your biggest problem is?”

James sat up, eyes lighting with sudden hope. “What?”

“You can’t accept that not everything can be fixed.”

James opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Deep down, he knew Remus was right.

“You’ve always thought that no matter what you do, Pony will forgive you in the end, haven’t you?”

The room fell silent.

James froze. He wanted to argue, to say that wasn’t true, that he knew he was wrong, that he really wanted to make things right. But the words caught in his throat and wouldn’t come out.

Because deep down, he knew.

He’d always been like this. Always assuming that Pegasus would get angry for a bit, then forgive him in the end. Because they were best friends. Because their bond had once felt unbreakable.

But that cold, silent barrier between them said everything. There was no space left for forgiveness.
Remus closed his book, stood up, and gave James a brief pat on the shoulder before heading for the door.

“Sometimes, saying sorry isn’t enough, James.”

Sirius stared at the ceiling, absently twirling his wand between his fingers. He was bothered too, but unlike James, he thought it best to let things cool off.

Pony was angry, but not in a way that could be fixed with a few apologies or some foolish display of regret. Sirius understood that.

Still, he wasn’t too worried. Pegasus wasn’t the kind of person to cut people off completely. Once enough time passed, things would go back to how they used to be.
At least, that was what he told himself.

But when he thought about it, he wasn’t so sure.

Ravophine’s eyes came back to him, deep green, cold as a forest in winter. Sirius closed his own, but the image wouldn’t fade. There was something about that gaze, distant and untouchable, that made him want to move closer just to see if it was real.

It wasn’t just beauty.

It felt like a door that had been sealed for years suddenly opening, revealing something deeper, darker, and dangerous.

Sirius didn’t like that feeling.

Ravophine’s mother was part Veela. That had to be it. The strange pull came from that bloodline, nothing more.

“Just Veela charm,” he told himself quietly, trying to explain away the restlessness creeping up his spine.

Yes, that was all it was. Veela charm.

He’d met half-Veelas before, they all had that magnetic grace, the kind of allure that made people turn their heads. But none of them had ever stayed in his mind like this.

James had admitted Ravophine was stunning, almost painfully so, but he wasn’t haunted by it. Maybe because he already had Lily to obsess over. Sirius didn’t.

He wasn’t chasing anyone. He never did. Sirius Black was like the wind: wild, free, impossible to catch. Not even his family, with all their expectations and bloodline pride, could hold him down.

Friends? Of course. James, Remus, Pegasus, they were the closest thing he had to family. But even that wasn’t a chain. He could laugh with them, fight for them, die for them if he had to. But he would never change who he was.

Sirius Black always knew exactly who he was.

Which was why he hated this.

He hated feeling haunted by a single look. Hated the way Emilius Ravophine’s image kept surfacing in his mind, as if some unseen hand was pulling him back every time he tried to look away.

With a sharp breath, he pushed himself off the bed, irritated by his own thoughts.

It was just surprise, that was all. The shock of seeing him without the glasses.

It had to be.

Three days passed. Still no sign of Ravophine.

Sirius checked the Marauder’s Map, but his name never appeared. There was only one explanation, Ravophine was hiding in the Room of Requirement.

Sirius didn’t bother asking Pony. He’d just get ignored. He didn’t ask Hayden Alert either, that one looked at him colder than the bloody North Sea. The Slytherins were out of the question; none of them cared about someone who dared to mock the Dark Lord.

So Sirius waited. And he hated waiting.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.

On the fifth morning, Emilius Ravophine walked into the Great Hall for breakfast.

There were no glasses on his face.

Chapter Text

It took the trio more than a day to finally pull off the Morphing Charm.

It wasn’t an easy spell.

It wasn’t like Polyjuice Potion, which only lasted an hour, nor one of those simple glamours that anyone could see through. This one was advanced, demanding precision in every flick, every syllable.

The charm didn’t turn the caster into someone else. It only dulled the sharpness of their features, softened a few proportions, and left behind a face that looked... ordinary. Not ugly. Not beautiful. Just forgettable enough to blend into the crowd.

But it wasn’t perfect. It could never compare to the glasses.

There was a side effect: something they all noticed within hours. The spell affected mood. No one knew exactly how, but it seemed to tangle with one’s emotions, making the user short-tempered, restless, easy to snap.

Emilius wasn’t someone who lost control easily. He was calm, measured, always thinking before he spoke. But since the charm took effect, everything seemed to scrape against his nerves.

The faintest sound irritated him.

A stray comment could set his teeth on edge.

Even a lingering glance made his skin crawl.

“If anything feels off, stop using it,” Hayden warned, worry flickering in his voice. “That spell’s not meant for long use.”

Pegasus leaned back, propping his chin on his hand.

“Honestly, maybe you should just go without it. With that scowl of yours, you might scare people more than your real face ever could.”

Emilius shot him a sharp look but said nothing. He knew this was just a stopgap, unstable, risky, flawed in more ways than one.

Still, it was better than nothing.

—————

Emilius returned to the Slytherin dormitory late that night.

Even though he’d confirmed the charm was stable, it still felt strange to walk the halls without his glasses. The air was cold, the corridors quiet; he moved quickly, wanting nothing more than to reach his bed.

But the moment he stepped into the common room, he froze.

Regulus Black was standing right there, and for a moment , Emilius’s heart skipped a beat.

Merlin, the resemblance was uncanny.

He’d always known the two brothers looked alike, but facing Regulus up close was unsettling in a way he hadn’t expected. If not for the younger boy’s calmer eyes and composed manner, Emilius might’ve thought Sirius had followed him here.

Regulus’s brow furrowed slightly when he noticed him.
“Good evening, Ravophine. You’ve been gone for several days, may I ask where you’ve been?”

It took Emilius a breath to recover. “Just had a few things to take care of.”

Regulus gave a small nod, his gaze sweeping over Emilius with polite attentiveness. Whatever he saw, he didn’t seem surprised. His expression remained perfectly neutral.

After a moment, he tilted his head slightly.

“Forgive me for asking, but… where are your glasses?”

Emilius blinked. It took him a second to realize Regulus hadn’t noticed the difference at all. Clearing his throat, he answered evenly, “They broke.”

“I see.” Regulus hummed softly, thoughtful. “Some of the students were making the most absurd guesses about your disappearance. One even suggested that Potter might have kidnapped you.”

Emilius could only stare at him.

How did every rumor involving Potter manage to sound this ridiculous?

Regulus didn’t seem to notice his silence. “Will you be getting a new pair soon?”

“Eventually,” Emilius replied. “It might take some time.”

“Your eyesight isn’t too bad without them, I hope?”

“I can manage. It’s not that serious.”

Regulus regarded him for a brief moment, then offered a faint, almost respectful smile. “That’s good to hear. If I may say so, you look a bit less… intimidating without them.”

Emilius paused, caught between amusement and disbelief.

Intimidating? You’ve barely seen my face, kid.

Regulus stepped closer and gave a polite, almost formal nod. “It’s quite late. You should get some rest. Next time, please let someone know if you’ll be away that long, it caused quite a stir.”

Then, with the composed grace that only a well-trained Black could manage, he turned and left, his footsteps fading into the stillness.

Emilius stood there for a moment, lips quirking despite himself.

Who was supposed to be the senior here again?

When he finally reached his room, he shut the door behind him and exhaled slowly. Every muscle ached with exhaustion.

He didn’t bother with a light. Quietly, he changed into his nightclothes, movements sluggish from weariness.

Everything seemed to demand more effort than it should.
At last, he sank onto his bed.

No glasses. No charm. No pretense.

Just the silence of the dark pressing in around him.

Within minutes, he was asleep.

———————

The next morning, Emilius stepped into the Great Hall, blending into the slow-moving stream of students gathering for breakfast.

No glasses. No familiar barrier.

But the charm was stable, he reminded himself. His face was now just another blur among the crowd—nothing remarkable, nothing worth a second glance.

There was no reason to worry.

Except for one.

Someone was watching him.

He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Sirius Black.

But Emilius didn’t react. He walked straight to the Slytherin table and sat down in a quiet corner, as if nothing had happened.

No one in Slytherin paid him any mind. They were too busy eating, chatting, arguing as usual. Not a single glance his way.

Good. No suspicion.

Then, someone sat down beside him, Severus Snape.
“Where have you been the past four days?”

“I didn’t know you cared about small talk,” Emilius replied evenly.

Snape frowned but pressed on.

“Was it Potter and Black again? I heard something happened near the Whomping Willow. They didn’t mess with you, did they?”

“It wasn’t about me,” Emilius said curtly. “That’s all you need to know.”

Snape’s gaze lingered briefly on the spot where his glasses used to be, then he looked away and resumed his breakfast without another word.

No sign of Pegasus, probably still asleep. Across the hall, at the Hufflepuff table, Hayden caught his eye, raising an eyebrow.

No side effects yet?

None. Meet later, same place.

Got it.

Emilius finished his food quickly and left. But he’d barely stepped into the corridor when a sharp voice cut through the air behind him.

“So you really thought I wouldn’t notice, Ravophine?”
The sound slid down his spine like a blade of ice, freezing him in place.

Just what he needed first thing in the morning, Dracy Gallard.

Emilius exhaled slowly, then turned around, eyes cold.
“Do you have a problem, Gallard?”

Dracy leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, the picture of casual arrogance. But there was something in his gaze, sharp, knowing, dangerous, that set Emilius’s nerves on edge.

“No glasses,” Dracy murmured, studying him with interest. “And yet no one seems to notice anything strange. Curious, isn’t it?”

Emilius shot him a frigid look. “You’re talking nonsense.”

Dracy’s lips curved into a faint, irritating smile. “You really think I wouldn’t recognize you? I’ve never once seen you without those glasses. And this morning, there you were, sitting in plain sight like nothing’s changed. No one bats an eye.”

He tilted his head slightly. “So, what kind of spell is it?”

A hot, inexplicable pulse of anger flared behind Emilius’s eyes. Normally, he would’ve ignored someone like Dracy. But today… today, his patience was running thin.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Oh?” Dracy blinked, feigning innocence. “None of my business?”

Emilius clenched his jaw. “Gallard, I’m warning you—”

“You’re awfully short-tempered this morning,” Dracy cut in smoothly. His voice was calm, but his gaze tracked every flicker of emotion on Emilius’s face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lose your composure like this.”

“What do you want?” Emilius hissed.

Dracy shrugged lightly. “Just an observation. You think I didn’t notice? You sat there pretending to be fine, but you never actually relaxed, not once.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice, every word deliberate.

“The Morphing Charm isn’t just a disguise, Ravophine. It changes you, in ways you don’t realize.”

Then, with a faint smirk, he added,

“And by the way, your little trio isn’t the only one wandering around the Restricted Grounds.”

Emilius took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “I can handle it.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.”

A cold wind drifted through the corridor. Neither of them spoke for a moment, as if waiting to see who would break the silence first.

Dracy was the one who finally moved. He shrugged, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “If you want to play with danger, that’s your business. Just don’t expect me to feel sorry for you when things go wrong.”

He turned and walked away without another word.
Emilius stood there, hands clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. A wave of anger rose in his chest, wild and irrational, burning like something alive inside him. He couldn’t stop it.

That damned spell.

He drew in another breath, steadying his pulse. He still had control. He had to.

—————————-
When Ravophine walked into the Great Hall that morning without his glasses, Sirius knew immediately that something was off.

He had thought this would finally be his chance to see the real face behind the disguise. The last time, when the glasses shattered, he had only seen it for a moment—but that was enough. It was beautiful in a way that didn’t seem real, sharp and cold, something that shouldn’t exist.

Now the glasses were gone, yet nothing had changed.
That face was ordinary.

Not ugly, not strange, just forgettable, so plain that the eye could pass right over it without a second thought.
Sirius frowned. It wasn’t another person’s face, nothing distorted or obviously enchanted, but it wasn’t the same one he remembered either.

Ravophine was hiding again. Another spell.

Annoyance stirred in Sirius’s chest. He rested his chin on one hand, tapping his spoon against the table, eyes fixed on the Slytherin table.

Ravophine sat quietly, eating without a care. No one else noticed anything different. No one even looked twice.
Only Sirius did, and it made him uneasy.

Why go so far to hide? What was he afraid of?

He watched the other boy carefully. Anyone else, losing something as familiar as their glasses, would at least seem awkward or self-conscious. But Ravophine was perfectly calm, every movement measured and deliberate.

Too calm.

The feeling grew stronger, like something about the world was off-balance, twisting just beyond what he could grasp.

Before he could look any longer, Ravophine stood and left the hall. Quiet, precise, disappearing the way he always did, before anyone could see too much.

Then someone else stood up.

Dracy Gallard.

Sirius knew him, knew that sharp-eyed Ravenclaw with the kind of intuition that could slice through steel. If there was anyone in the castle perceptive enough to notice something strange about Ravophine, it would be him.

So why, when Sirius saw Dracy slip out the door right after Ravophine, did his chest tighten in irritation?

“You’re paying an awful lot of attention to Ravophine,” Remus said casually, voice calm as if he were commenting on the weather.

Sirius froze. “I am not.”

Remus didn’t look up . “You’ve been staring at him all breakfast. From the moment he walked in, to when he sat down, to when he left. And now, you’re glaring at the door like you’re trying to set it on fire.”

Sirius dropped his spoon with a loud clatter. “He’s suspicious! He’s hiding his face again, tell me that’s not worth paying attention to!”

Remus sighed, closing his book just enough to glance at him. “Strange. You claim to hate Ravophine, but you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.”

“I—” Sirius started, voice sharp.

“Hate him?” Remus cut in smoothly. “Or can’t stop noticing him?”

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over Sirius’s head.

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out.
Because, damn it, Remus wasn’t wrong.

He had been watching Ravophine all morning.

He had been annoyed that the boy was hiding his face again.

And he had felt something twist unpleasantly in his gut when Dracy Gallard followed him out.

But that didn’t mean he liked him.

Grinding his teeth, Sirius muttered through clenched jaw, “I just hate people who keep secrets.”

“Then why don’t you hate anyone else who does that?” Remus asked, tone light.

“I don’t—”

“You’re acting like someone who’s been ignored,” Remus went on.

“I—”

“Like a kid whose crush won’t look at them.”

Sirius exploded. “What the hell are you talking about? I hate him!”

Remus watched him for a moment, then shrugged. “Right. You hate him. Which is why you spent the entire morning staring at him.”

“I was—! NO! I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON RAVOPHINE!!”

Sirius realized the entire Great Hall had gone silent.

Dozens of heads had turned.

“Sirius… no one asked,” someone said from a nearby table.

“Bit of an overconfession there, mate,” another added.
Sirius froze, color draining from his face.

No. Absolutely not.

He didn’t like Ravophine. That was ridiculous.

But Remus was still watching him with that maddeningly patient expression, and James—dear god—James had just spat pumpkin juice all over the table.

A heartbeat. Two.

Sirius took a slow breath, sat back down as calmly as he could, and took a sip of water like nothing had happened.
The Great Hall gradually returned to its chatter, though James and Remus were still staring at him.

“Don’t,” Sirius growled.

James sighed. “You’re hopeless.”

“I’m not—”

“—into Ravophine, yeah, we know,” Remus interrupted smoothly.

James leaned in, ticking points off on his fingers. “Sure. You’re not into him. You just stare at him all the time. You get mad when someone else talks to him. You sulk when he ignores you.”

“You glared holes in Gallard’s back because he walked out with him,” Remus added helpfully.

James nodded solemnly. “And you look at him like you’d eat him alive.”

“But no, totally not into him,” Remus finished.

Sirius gripped his spoon so hard it nearly bent. “Can you two stop?”

James just shook his head, pitying. “Sirius, mate… listen to yourself. If that’s not liking someone, what is?”

Sirius opened his mouth to argue again, but this time, nothing came out.

Because no matter what he said now, the damage was already done.

Bloody hell.

There was no way, absolutely no way, he liked Emilius Ravophine.

Right?

———

The following days.

Emilius thought that if he just acted normal, stayed quiet, kept his usual calm, gave no one a reason to ask,
then everything would settle down.

He was wrong.

The charm’s side effects weren’t obvious, but they were there, slowly twisting something inside him.

It didn’t exhaust him right away, nor make him sick. It was more subtle than that, a constant sense of imbalance, like his mind and body were slightly out of tune.

The world felt too loud. Every sound, every movement, every careless word grated on his nerves. A chair scraping against stone made his jaw tighten. A laugh from across the room made his pulse quicken. Someone glancing his way for too long made his skin crawl.

He was not the kind of person to lose control. But now, it felt like every breath was a reminder of how close he was to snapping.

Dracy Gallard had been right.

“It changes you in ways you don’t even notice.”
Emilius hated that truth more than anything.

He forced himself to appear calm, same posture, same voice, same mask, but everything underneath was burning.

He had to stay in control.

In class, he sat perfectly still, eyes on his parchment but mind tight as a bowstring. Just a normal day. Just a normal group discussion. If he could get through this, nothing would happen.

But the Ravenclaw boy beside him wouldn’t stop talking. His tone smug, his logic completely wrong.

Normally, he would’ve corrected him. Calmly. Maybe even politely.

But today, each word from that boy felt like a spark thrown into dry grass.

He clenched his fists under the desk. Nails pressed into skin.

From across the room, Pegasus was watching him.
Emilius didn’t look up, but he could feel it, that worried gaze.

When class finally ended, he packed up in silence and left before anyone could stop him.

Pegasus caught up almost immediately.

“You’re not fine.”

Emilius didn’t stop walking. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Pegasus sighed, matching his pace. “I’ve known you too long to buy that.”

Emilius didn’t reply. He didn’t want to argue, and that only made the irritation worse.

“I’m just tired,” he muttered, sharper than intended.
Pegasus frowned. “It’s the charm, isn’t it?”

That hit too close. Emilius forced a breath, trying to sound steady. “You’re overthinking it, Pony.”

Pegasus’s voice softened. “You can lie to everyone else. Don’t lie to me.”

A few corridors later, the two split to go to different classes. Pegasus had barely walked ten steps before Hayden grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into a corner.

“What now?” Pegasus asked, already exasperated.

Hayden glanced around like he was sharing a state secret. “Do you know what everyone’s talking about lately?”

“James still begging me to forgive him?”

“No!” Hayden leaned closer, whispering, “Sirius Black likes Emilius Ravophine.”

Pegasus blinked. “…Come again?”

“I’m serious! I overheard a bunch of Ravenclaws gossiping. Apparently, he stood up in the Great Hall and yelled ‘I do not have a crush on Ravophine!’ in front of everyone, and no one even asked!”

Pegasus groaned. “He said that on his own?”

“Exactly! And you know what that means.”

“Nine out of ten times—”

“—they absolutely do,” Hayden finished, nodding with conviction. “Who randomly shouts a denial like that unless it’s true?”

Pegasus rubbed his temples. “…So now the whole school’s talking about it?”

“Not everyone, but the Ravenclaws started a betting pool on when he’ll realize.”

Pegasus blinked. “Are you telling me this so I can laugh or panic?”

“Both,” Hayden said cheerfully.

Pegasus let out a low chuckle. “Poor Emil.”

“Poor Emil,” Hayden echoed. “If he finds out people are dissecting his love life, he’ll lose it.”

“He’s halfway there already. You’ve seen his temper today?”

“Yeah. That bloody charm’s eating at him.”

They both fell silent for a moment. Then Pegasus asked, “Do you think Sirius really likes him?”

Hayden thought for a second, then shrugged. “If I said no, I’d be lying.”

Pegasus leaned against the wall with a sigh. “I think I need to lay down”

Chapter Text

Sirius didn’t like Emilius.

Not a chance.

He didn’t look for Emilius on purpose. Of course not. But somehow, no matter who he was talking to, his eyes would drift in that direction. No matter what he was doing, he could still feel Emilius there, like a splinter lodged under his skin, impossible to ignore.

And the worst part was… he couldn’t act the same anymore.

Remus’s words kept circling in his head like an annoying echo.

“You don’t hate him? Or you just can’t stop noticing him?”

“Like a kid with a crush who’s being ignored.”

What utter rubbish. There was no way Sirius Black liked Emilius Ravophine.

After the Willow incident, Ravophine had started ignoring him. Sirius should’ve been happy about that. He’d always claimed to hate the guy, hadn’t he?

Before, every time Sirius threw a jab, Ravophine would always answer. with a sharp comeback, an eye-roll, maybe even that quiet, frustrated sigh that somehow made Sirius want to keep pushing just to see more of it. There was always a reaction.

But now?

Nothing.

As if Sirius had been completely erased from his world.

He tried to get close again, not obviously, of course. Sirius Black didn’t follow people around. Especially not Emilius Ravophine. He just happened to walk by the places Ravophine frequented. Happened to show up at breakfast at the same time. Happened to slow down whenever he saw that familiar figure ahead in the corridor.

But Emilius never looked back. Not even once.

He just walked past him: calm, detached, distant and it drove Sirius insane.

Had Ravophine always been like that?

Had Sirius imagined everything, the tension, the irritation, the spark?

Had it all just been him?

He didn’t know anymore. He hated Emilius. He really did.
So why the hell did it feel like this?

Sirius never thought he’d see the day when James Potter would burst into the room,

“Mate, come quick, Ravophine’s in a fight outside!”

...What?

What the hell did James just say?

———————————

A few days ago

Emilius thought he could handle it.

But with every passing day, something inside him began to slip.

His emotions felt strange: dull and sharp all at once. A quiet anger burned under his skin, never loud, but always there, simmering, waiting for the smallest spark.

Someone bumped into him in the hallway?

Normally, he would have just frowned and kept walking. Now, though, the irritation came in a wave, fast, hot, and impossible to swallow down.

A noisy group of first-years laughing nearby?

He clenched his jaw, fingers tightening around the wand in his pocket before he even realized it.

Pegasus’s teasing, Hayden’s comforting pats on the shoulder, they used to help. Little moments that made this judgmental place a bit more bearable. But lately, every touch, every word, only made his chest tighten.

Every sound grated on him.

He was running out of patience.Conversations turned into arguments. Concern sounded like pity. Questions felt like accusations.

“Emil, you have to stop. You’re not okay anymore!”
Pegasus Grey stood in front of him, worry written all over his face. Hayden too, both of them knew the Morphing charm had side effects, but they never thought it would twist Emilius this much.

He wasn’t the same person anymore.

The calm, rational Emilius was gone, replaced by someone restless, volatile, unpredictable.

“There’s nothing to stop,” Emilius said. Pegasus temper finally snapped.

“Don’t act stupid! You think we can’t tell? That spell is eating you alive!”

“I know.”

“You know and you’re still using it?” Hayden said, disbelief in his eyes. “You’ve read about it, this isn’t just mood swings—”

“JUST A FEW MORE WEEKS!!”

Both of them froze as Emilius’s shout echoed through the corridor.

His breathing came harsh and uneven. His eyes burned with a fury they had never seen before.

They knew the spell made him unstable, but not like this.

“I just need to hold on a bit longer,” Emilius rasped.

“Once my father’s back, everything will be fine!”

“No, it won’t!” Pegasus yelled. “You can’t keep this up! You’ve seen what it’s doing to you!”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Emilius shot back, voice shaking. “Take it off? Let everyone see my real face?”

Silence.

“You’re my friends,” he said, fists trembling. “You know how it feels for me to be seen. I’d rather let this cursed spell burn me from the inside than show them what I really look like.”

“Emil…” Pegasus’s voice softened, breaking a little.

“If you can’t accept that, fine,” Emilius snapped. “Just stop talking about it.”

Hayden bit his tongue, wanting to argue but unable to.
Pegasus sighed, running a hand through his hair, helpless frustration painted across his face.

“Please, Emil,” Hayden murmured, almost a plea. “We’ll find another way. You don’t have to do this to yourself.”
But he didn’t listen.

He couldn’t.

“Just a few more weeks,” he whispered, as if to convince himself. “My father’s coming home soon. I can handle it till then.”

Just a bit longer.

———————-

The day Emilius announced his withdrawal from the Quidditch team, the Slytherin common room exploded.
“You said what?!”

For a heartbeat, there was dead silence, and then came the murmurs, the creak of chairs as everyone turned to stare, the faint flutter of a silver Snitch’s wings somewhere on a table.

All eyes were on Emilius.

“No way!”

“You’ve got to be kidding, Ravophine!”

Even Regulus Black couldn’t hide his shock.

“Is that true, Ravophine?”

Emilius’s face was calm, almost indifferent, as if none of this was worth arguing about.

“I won’t be playing this season,” he said simply.

And it was true. He couldn’t play, not when this constant volatility made him want to snap his broom in half rather than fly it.

The room froze.

“Ravophine, are you out of your mind?!”

The Slytherin captain slammed his hand on the table, his face red with anger.

“We’re in the middle of the season! You’re our best Chaser! You’re just going to quit now?”

“Then find someone else,” Emilius replied flatly.

“Is something wrong, Ravophine? You’ve been acting strange lately.”

Regulus was the only one who managed to stay composed. He knew Emilius wouldn’t make a sudden announcement like this without a reason.

Emilius’s eyes darkened.

He knew he needed an excuse: an injury, a family issue, anything to calm the team down. Something clever, something that wouldn’t make things worse.

But when he opened his mouth, the only thing that came out was—

“Because I want to.”

Silence.

Then laughter.

A seventh-year leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes narrowing in mock amusement.

“So the great Ravophine finally shows his true colors. And here I thought you were something special.”

Emilius’s chest tightened.

“Always acting so proper, but in the end, just another coward.”

“I knew you’d crack one day, just like those two idiotic Gryffindors and that pathetic Hufflepuff you hang around with.”

Something in Emilius snapped.

Before he even realized it, his wand was in his hand. The whole room went silent. A strange heat crawled up his spine, anger, raw and blinding, flooding every thought.
His grip on the wand trembled; his breathing came rough and heavy.

Every whisper felt like needles in his ears.

What’s wrong with you?

Calm down!

But he didn’t want to calm down.

He wanted that mocking voice to shut up.

He wanted—

His palm went numb. His chest ached, tight and burning. Something inside him writhed, painful and suffocating.

What the hell is happening to me?

Emilius lowered his wand.

He didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at anyone. He just stormed out of the room.

———————

After that day, Emilius was officially an outcast.

No one said it outright, but the atmosphere in the Slytherin common room changed. The glances, the side-eyes, the half-whispered gossip whenever he walked by , he could feel them all.

No one talked to him anymore.

Except Snape.

But even then, it wasn’t friendship.

Just a quiet understanding, that they could share a table without bothering each other, exchange a few words when necessary, and that was it.

Regulus Black didn’t whisper behind his back, nor did he openly avoid him. He was simply… disappointed.

Every time Emilius walked into the room, the noise would fade. Laughter would stop mid-sentence. Faces would turn away, voices swallowed back, leaving only a hollow quiet.

He told himself he didn’t care.

He’d always been the black sheep of Slytherin, never needed anyone, never wanted anyone’s pity.

Being isolated shouldn’t bother him.

But something felt off.

He was angrier than before. Everything seemed to irritate him.

The whispers, the laughter, normally he’d ignore them, but now, even a single mocking snicker from across the room made his fingers twitch toward his wand.

At least, he still had enough sense not to use it. But that little shred of restraint…didn’t last for long.

——————-

From the day Emilius announced he was quitting the Quidditch team, Hayden and Pegasus were dragged into the storm that followed.

Pegasus could handle it, he was too sharp-tongued, too fierce for anyone to dare cross.

But Hayden… Hayden was different.

He was gentle. Too easy a target.

And the Slytherins knew it.

“Alert!”

They didn’t even need a reason anymore.

If Pegasus had been there, they’d have kept their mouths shut. But Hayden was alone, and that made him fair game.

As he tried to walk past, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, fingers digging in hard.

“I’m talking to you, Alert.” Avery tilted his head, his smile sharp and cruel.

Hayden brushed the hand off. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” Mulciber gave a low laugh. “Oh, we’re deadly serious. Especially when it comes to your dear Ravophine.”

Hayden’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“We’re just curious,” Avery drawled. “Between you and Ravophine, who’s the bigger loser?”

“Ravophine, obviously,” another snorted. “From star Chaser to a dropout, what a disgrace. Slytherin’s golden boy turned into a joke.”

Laughter broke out, echoing off the walls.

“But then again…” Avery tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Maybe you’re the sadder one. At least Ravophine used to matter.”

His grin widened as he saw Hayden’s fists curl.

“And you? Nobody even remembers you exist.”

Hayden inhaled slowly.

Stay calm.
Don’t take the bait.

He’d learned his lesson the hard way, fighting back only made it worse. If he reacted, they’d win. If he kept quiet, maybe they’d get bored.

But Slytherins like Avery never got bored.

“You’re nothing without Ravophine and Grey,” Mulciber sneered. “A scared little coward hiding behind your friends.”

“No, no…” Avery shook his head slowly, his voice dripping venom. “He’s not just a coward.”

He leaned closer, grin curling into a sneer. “He’s a dog. A pathetic little mutt wagging his tail.”

Crack!

Avery didn’t even see it coming.

A blur of motion, then a fist slammed straight into his face.

The sound was sharp and final, knuckles colliding with flesh. Avery staggered back, collapsing onto the floor.
Standing before him, eyes burning, was Emilius Ravophine, fist still clenched tight.

“Say one more word,” he growled, voice low and dark,

“and I’ll break your fucking jaw.”

—————-

They burst into the courtyard behind the library—and Sirius instantly understood why James had looked so terrified.

Chaos.

Raw and suffocating.

“Emil! Stop! That’s enough!”

Hayden was clutching at Emilius, trying to drag him away from the cluster of Slytherins, but Emilius didn’t even seem to hear him. He jerked free with a violent twist, sending Hayden stumbling back like a broken doll.

Sirius had seen Emilius Ravophine angry before.

But not like this. Never like this.

His long, golden hair, usually neat and polished,was a wild halo around his face. But it wasn’t the disheveled look that chilled Sirius to the bone.

It was the eyes.

Those weren’t human eyes anymore.

They were the eyes of something feral. Unhinged. Burning from the inside out.

Emilius lunged. His fist connected with a Slytherin’s jaw in a brutal crack. The boy crumpled backward, blood blooming across his mouth, but Emilius didn’t stop. He grabbed the front of the boy’s robes, hauled him up like he weighed nothing, and drove another punch straight into his face.

“RAVOPHINE, STOP!” someone shouted.

Another Slytherin tried to draw his wand, but Emilius moved faster, too fast. His boot slammed into the boy’s stomach, the impact echoing off the stone walls. The poor bastard folded in half before crashing to the ground with a strangled cry.

Sirius froze.

This wasn’t a fight anymore.
It was a slaughter.

“Emil! Please…stop!”

Hayden lunged again, grabbing at his friend’s arm, but Emilius barely seemed to register the touch. He shoved Hayden aside with a strength that didn’t feel human, eyes blazing, breath ragged.

He crouched over the Slytherin boy, fingers twisting into the front of his robes, and for a split second Sirius could see it, his hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from something far uglier. Something that burned.

The next punch landed with a crack that made Sirius flinch. Blood spattered across Emilius’s knuckles, but he didn’t stop.

“EMILIUS!” Hayden’s voice broke.

Sirius didn’t think. His wand was already raised.

“Incarcerous!”

The ropes shot forward, glowing faintly, only to snap apart like wet thread the moment they touched Emilius.

“What the—” Sirius’s words died in his throat.

He tried again. “Petrificus Totalus!”

For one brief moment, Emilius froze mid-breath. Then, with a violent shudder, the spell shattered off him like glass under pressure.

Sirius’s stomach dropped. That’s not possible.

Emilius stood there, chest heaving, hair wild, his eyes burning with a feral red glint that made Sirius’s pulse race. He looked…wrong. Too alive. Too consumed.

And then he moved again. Straight toward the terrified boys on the ground.

“EMIL! STOP!” Hayden screamed.

Sirius darted forward, grabbed Emilius from behind, locking his arms around his chest. “RAVOPHINE! Snap out of it!”

The boy thrashed in his grip, stronger than anyone Sirius had ever tried to hold down. Nails dug into his arm; the fabric of his uniform tore.

“Hold him!” Sirius yelled. James and Hayden threw themselves in too, the three of them straining just to keep Emilius from lunging again.

“Merlin’s beard! What’s wrong with him?!” James hissed through clenched teeth.

Emilius fought like a caged animal, gasping, trembling, eyes unfocused. Then Sirius shouted, desperate

“RAVOPHINE! LOOK AT ME!”

For a heartbeat, Emilius stopped.

Their eyes met. Beneath the fury and the blood and the wildness, Sirius thought, no, felt something flicker. Confusion. Pain. Fear.

And then

“Dissolvus Forma!”

A sharp flash of green light cut through the air. It struck Emilius square in the chest.

The spell shattered.

The feral sharpness in his face slowly faded, revealing the true one beneath, breathtakingly beautiful, almost unreal.

Emilius’s skin was deathly pale, his breathing shallow and uneven, as if something had drained every ounce of life from him. His eyes widened for a brief, stunned second—
And then he collapsed.

Sirius moved before he even thought. He lunged forward and caught Emilius just as the boy fell into his arms.

“Emil!” Hayden’s voice cracked with panic.

But Emilius was already unconscious.

The courtyard fell utterly silent.

Only the ragged breaths of Sirius and Hayden remained, along with the limp, weightless body of Emilius in Sirius’s arms.

Sirius looked up sharply. “Who just—”

He didn’t finish. A figure came sprinting across the courtyard.

Pegasus Grey. A heavy book clutched tightly in one hand.

“Thank Merlin I got here in time…” Pegasus panted, his voice trembling between worry and fear. “Bloody hell, what the hell happened?!”

“What did you do?” Sirius demanded, his chest burning, Emilius still unmoving against him.

“Give him to me.” Pegasus’s voice was taut, almost shaking with restraint as he reached out. “Now.”

Sirius’s arms tightened instinctively. He didn’t even know why. He just… didn’t want to let go.

Pegasus’s eyes flashed, sharp as blades.

“Let go, Black.”

Sirius hesitated, only a heartbeat, but Pegasus seized the moment, pulling Emilius from his grasp. The boy’s body sagged immediately, collapsing against Pegasus’s chest, limp and utterly spent.

“Emil…!” Hayden rushed to help, his voice raw with worry. Together, he and Pegasus held Emilius up, half-supporting, half-cradling him.

Sirius looked down at his own hands.

The warmth of Emilius’s body still lingered there, faint but undeniable. Something twisted in his chest, something he didn’t have the time or courage to name.

Because right then

“WHAT,” a deep, commanding voice rang out, slicing through the air, “IS GOING ON HERE?”
The professors had arrived.

At the front stood Dumbledore, robes of deep blue swaying lightly as he stepped forward. His piercing blue eyes swept over the wreckage, the blood, the bruised and groaning Slytherins, the trembling students, and Emilius Ravophine, unconscious in Pegasus Grey’s arms.

Behind him came Professor McGonagall, her stern face lined with shock, and Professor Slughorn, pale and speechless at the sight of his students sprawled across the ground.

Dumbledore’s gaze hardened.

“Well?” he asked quietly, his voice like the crack of thunder in the still air.

“Who will explain this to me?”

Chapter Text

The Hospital Wing of Hogwarts was heavy with silence. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, but it couldn’t mask the oppressive weight that seemed to settle over the room.

On the bed nearest the window lay Emilius, motionless. His face was pale, his breathing shallow. The Morphing Charm had finally worn off, revealing his true features, once sharp and radiant, now drained and ghostly, the toll of the forbidden spell carved into every line of his face.

At the foot of the bed, Pegasus and Hayden stood in tense silence, eyes fixed on their friend. Neither of them had ever seen Emilius look this frail before.Madam Pomfrey hovered nearby, worry furrowing her brow as she waved her wand over the boy’s chest.

“Forbidden magic,” she muttered. “You can’t use it for that long without paying the price.”

A series of glowing runes shimmered briefly above Emilius before fading from sight.

“He’s lucky to be merely unconscious,” she added, her tone a mix of relief and reproach. “But it’s hard to say what might happen next. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Neither Pegasus nor Hayden replied. The weight in their chests was almost suffocating.

But the hospital wing was far from peaceful. A few beds away, a group of Slytherins lay groaning under Madam Pomfrey’s care, bruised, battered, and still smarting from the fight that had landed them here in the first place.

Even as the matron bustled between patients, scolding them for moving too much, their eyes kept flicking toward Emilius’s bed.

“Merlin’s beard… so that’s what Ravophine really looks like?” one of them whispered, awe mixed with disbelief.

“He’s… actually gorgeous,” another muttered, staring openly at Emilius’s still, pale face.

“Heard his mother’s half-Veela. Guess it makes sense now. Didn’t think he’d been hiding that under those glasses.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s been getting special treatment all along, huh?”

Pegasus and Hayden froze. Rage flared so fast it felt like fire in their veins. Before Hayden could say anything, Pegasus spun on his heel, voice rising like a whipcrack.

“What did you just say?!”

The words echoed through the quiet ward. Every head turned. A few Slytherins quickly looked away, pretending to busy themselves with their bandages, but their eyes kept darting back toward the unconscious boy.

Madam Pomfrey’s voice cut through the tension like steel.

“Mr. Grey! This is a hospital, not a dueling club!”

Pegasus inhaled sharply, fighting to keep control. He wanted to tear into them, to wipe those looks off their faces—but Hayden’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

“Don’t,” Hayden said quietly. “They’re not worth it.”

Pegasus’s fists clenched, then loosened. He exhaled sharply through his nose and turned back to Emilius, jaw tight.

Madam Pomfrey sighed, gathering her tools.

“You can’t do anything for him right now. Both of you, go back to your dorm.”

They hesitated, exchanged a glance, then reluctantly obeyed. And as the heavy wooden doors of the infirmary shut behind them, they saw Professor McGonagall waiting in the corridor, arms crossed, eyes glinting behind her square spectacles.

“Come with me,” she said simply, then turned on her heel.

Neither Pegasus nor Hayden dared to argue. They followed in silence.

-----------------

The three of them stepped into the Headmaster’s office. Behind the grand desk sat Professor Dumbledore, his blue eyes glimmering with their usual calm light behind half-moon spectacles. Beside him stood Professor Slughorn, looking unusually tense.

“Sit down, please,”

Dumbledore said gently, motioning toward the two chairs before him. Pegasus and Hayden obeyed quietly. The tension in the air was almost palpable. Pegasus clenched his fists, while Hayden took a slow breath, trying to keep his composure.

“I trust you both understand why you’re here,” Dumbledore continued, his tone calm but firm.

“I’d like you to explain the situation concerning Emilius Ravophine.”

There was no anger in his voice, only a quiet steadiness that made the weight of his words all the heavier. Hayden spoke first. He recounted everything: how Emilius’s special glasses hadn’t arrived in time, how they had been forced to use a forbidden charm to maintain his disguise. Pegasus occasionally chimed in, adding details Hayden had missed.

Dumbledore listened in silence, not interrupting once. When Hayden finally finished, he nodded slightly, as though turning each word over in his mind.

“I see,” he said softly.

“Emilius has endured far more than most could imagine. I don’t blame you for trying to protect him. However…”

He paused. His voice remained calm, but there was an edge of quiet gravity beneath it.

“Using a forbidden spell continuously for two weeks is incredibly dangerous. Without timely intervention, the consequences might have been irreversible.”

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to, they knew he was right.

Slughorn sighed, shaking his head.

“I had no idea the poor boy felt the need to hide himself so completely... I’d heard rumors about the Ravophine family, but I never thought it was this serious.”

Dumbledore’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before returning to the boys.

“I was a friend of the Ravophines,” he said quietly. “I know what happened back then. It was… a heavy trauma for any child to carry.”

Professor McGonagall, standing silently by, said nothing,but her usually stern face softened for a brief moment. The tragedy of the Ravophine family was something only some few senior witch and wizard knew, even if the press never did. It wasn’t surprising now, she thought, that the boy had chosen to hide behind enchanted glasses.

Dumbledore folded his hands on the desk, his eyes kind yet piercing.

“You two are good friends,” he said at last. “Your intentions were noble, but using a forbidden charm for that long, and letting it bring him to this state, was a grave mistake in judgment.”

Hayden bowed his head. Pegasus’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Then McGonagall spoke, her tone sharp again.

“And what about the fight in the courtyard? Mr. Ravophine attacked a group of Slytherin students badly enough to send them all to the hospital wing. Did you think that would simply be overlooked?”

Pegasus muttered, “They deserved it.”

McGonagall’s eyes flashed, but Dumbledore raised a hand before she could respond. Slughorn cleared his throat, speaking carefully.

“Albus, I understand Ravophine’s case is… exceptional. Still, my students were injured. Whatever they might have said, being beaten that badly is unacceptable. Their parents won’t stay quiet about this.”

“No one is denying that, Horace,” Dumbledore replied with a nod.

“But I believe there’s a way to resolve this quietly.”

He turned back to Pegasus and Hayden, his expression serious now.

“I’ll speak with the students involved myself, and ensure this incident doesn’t spread any further.”

“After all, none of us want word getting out that a student has been using a forbidden charm, do we?”

Hayden exhaled shakily and nodded, grateful.

“However,” Dumbledore went on, “I will have to inform the Ravophine family. This is something his guardian deserves to know.”

Pegasus frowned. “But if you do that—”

Dumbledore cut him off gently.

“I understand your concern. But this matter has gone beyond what can be kept secret. His family has the right to know.”

Pegasus turned away, frustrated, but remained silent. Hayden, beside him, said nothing, lost in thought.

McGonagall adjusted her glasses, her tone brisk once more.

“And naturally, all three of you will serve detention.”

Pegasus groaned. “What? But Emilius hasn’t even woken up yet—”

“He can join you once he does,” she said coolly. “A full month of detention.”

Pegasus shot Hayden a pleading look, but Hayden only sighed.

“Yes, Professor,” he said quietly.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled faintly, the hint of a smile returning.

“Very well. You may go.”

The two boys rose, bowed slightly, and left the office. As soon as the door closed behind them, Pegasus muttered under his breath,

“Well, there goes this month.”

Hayden gave a tired sigh.

“At least we didn’t get expelled.”

Pegasus scoffed but didn’t argue. He knew Hayden was right.

“So what now?” Hayden asked.

Pegasus glanced toward the corridor that led to the hospital wing.

“What else?” he said quietly. “We wait for Emilius to wake up.”

------------------

In a quiet corner of Hogwarts Castle, the Gryffindor common room was unusually subdued. The usual laughter and noise had faded away, replaced by a heavy silence. James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin sat together by the fire, each lost in thought about the fight that had shaken the whole school , especially the image of Emilius Ravophine in his fury.

Sirius had always thought of Emilius as cold, proud, and distant, someone who preferred to keep everyone at arm’s length. But what he had seen today was different. Ravophine had looked like a trapped animal, fierce and desperate, striking out with wild rage. The memory unsettled him in a way he couldn’t explain.

He wasn’t just shocked. He was worried.

Why was he worried about Emilius Ravophine of all people? They weren’t friends. To Sirius, Emilius had always been a rival, someone who challenged him in grades, in duels, even in reputation. Yet when Emilius collapsed at the end of the fight, Sirius had felt something twist sharply in his chest. It wasn’t anger or triumph. It was fear, a deep, cold fear he couldn’t push away.

He could still feel the weight of Emilius in his arms, his breath faint and uneven, his skin ice-cold, his heartbeat erratic. For one brief, irrational moment, Sirius had held on tightly, terrified that if he let go, Emilius would disappear.

That was when he realized something was wrong with him.

He used to think he hated Emilius Ravophine. But if that was true, why couldn’t he stop thinking about him now?

“Sirius?”

Remus’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Sirius looked up to find both James and Remus watching him, James curious, Remus calm but knowing.

“You all right, mate?” James asked, raising a brow.

“I’m fine,” Sirius said shortly.

Remus tilted his head. “You sure? You’ve been sitting there like someone hit you with a Confundus charm.”

James crossed his arms, smirking. “Or maybe he’s thinking about someone.”

Sirius glared at him. “I’m not thinking about anyone.”

James gave an exaggerated shrug. “Right. What do you think, Moony?”

Remus closed his book and looked over at Sirius. “I don’t believe him.”

Sirius kicked the leg of the table, annoyed. “You two seriously need new hobbies.”

James laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I just want to know what the hell happened out there. What did Pony do to make Ravophine faint like that?”

Remus frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not sure. But that wasn’t a normal Stunning Spell.”

“I bet they were using some kind of charm to hide Ravophine’s real face,” James said. “It must’ve backfired, drove him half mad.”

“Possible,” Remus agreed.

James spun his wand between his fingers, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Still… if Ravophine really looks like that, no wonder everyone’s talking. Half the school’s probably fallen for him by now.”

Sirius’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t like hearing people talk about Emilius like that. He didn’t know why, but it irritated him, more than it should.

He forced a smirk. “Since when do you care about how Ravophine look, James?Lily not enough for you?”

James chuckled. “Please. I’m just saying, if I’d known he looked like that, maybe Slytherin wouldn’t seem so bad.”

Sirius shot him a sharp glare, but James only laughed harder.

Remus finally spoke, his tone calm but pointed. “Maybe what’s bothering you isn’t that Ravophine hid his face. Maybe it’s that now everyone else knows what he really looks like.”

Sirius froze.

James let out a whistle. “Brilliant, Moony! That’s it! Padfoot’s just sulking because Ravophine turned out to be better looking than him.”

Sirius shot to his feet and slammed his hands on the table. “I don’t care about that! And there’s no way that Slytherin looks better than me!”

James and Remus both burst out laughing.

“We didn’t say you cared,” James said through his laughter. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

Sirius gritted his teeth, glaring at them both. He hated this conversation, but worse than that, he hated how he couldn’t completely deny what they were saying.

-----------------

Rumors spread faster than wildfire

By the next morning, the name Emilius Ravophine was on everyone’s lips. No one could stop the whispers, no matter how hard Hayden Alert tried to put an end to them. But how could he, when half the school had seen it with their own eyes?

Now everyone at Hogwarts knew the true face of Emilius Ravophine. No more disguises. No more enchanted glasses that he’d worn for years. Those who had witnessed the scene on the courtyard couldn’t forget it, a face too flawless, too radiant, too unearthly to fade from memory.

When Emilius woke up and found out, he would go absolutely crazy.

And it wasn’t just Slytherin House. Across every table in the Great Hall, the topic was the same.

At the Slytherin table

“I still can’t believe it,” a sixth-year girl whispered. “Ravophine always looked so… ordinary. Who would’ve thought—”

At the Ravenclaw table

“Did anyone ever notice him before? Merlin, if I’d known earlier, I would’ve—”

At the Hufflepuff table

“Do you think he used some kind of charm? I mean… people don’t just look like that suddenly, do they?”

No one knew the truth behind Emilius’s spell. No one knew why he had hidden his real face. But that didn’t stop the rumors from spreading. By the time breakfast was halfway through, Sirius had heard more than enough.

He tried to look indifferent, but every time someone mentioned Emilius Ravophine’s name with that dreamy tone, irritation coiled tighter in his chest.

Especially when he overheard a group of Gryffindor girls nearby.

“If Ravophine weren’t a Slytherin, I’d definitely try to talk to him.”

Sirius slammed his fork and knife down, the clatter loud enough to make James Potter glance over.

“What’s up with you?” James asked, a piece of toast still halfway to his mouth.

“What do you mean?” Sirius muttered.

“You’ve been snappy all morning. You look like someone stepped on your tail.”

Sirius grumbled something under his breath and took a long drink of pumpkin juice. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was irritated. Deeply irritated. He’d spent half the night telling himself that none of this mattered. That Emilius Ravophine didn’t matter. That he didn’t care.

But apparently, his brain had other ideas. Every time someone mentioned Emilius with that starry look, he felt annoyed. Every time someone seemed too curious, it set his teeth on edge.

And when James said—

“If I’d known he looked like that, maybe Slytherin wouldn’t seem so bad.”

Sirius nearly crushed his goblet.

“You’re awfully tense, Sirius,” Remus commented mildly.

Sirius shot him a glare but stayed silent. He knew better than anyone how easily Remus could see right through him.

He finished breakfast in brooding silence, then stalked out of the Great Hall. But the irritation didn’t fade. It followed him through the long corridors until he realized, almost without thinking, that his feet had carried him to the hospital wing.

He froze in front of the closed door, heart thudding.

Why was he here?

He exhaled sharply, ready to turn around, but his feet refused to move.

He didn’t want to go in. But he couldn’t walk away either. He kept telling himself this wasn’t his business. But if it wasn’t, why was he standing there?

Inside, Emilius Ravophine was still unconscious. Sirius remembered how he had collapsed, remembered the faint breath against his neck, the cold skin, the fragile heartbeat. And that face, too pale, too beautiful.

His fist clenched.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice behind him made Sirius spin around.

Pegasus stood a few steps away, his expression sharp and guarded. He hadn’t spoken to Sirius or James since the fight. And judging from his tone, that wasn’t about to change.

Sirius smirked. “Didn’t know standing here was a crime.”

Pegasus narrowed his eyes. “I don’t recall you and Emilius being close enough for you to lurk outside this door.”

Sirius almost fired back a retort, then stopped himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have come at all.

Finally, he said, “Pony, your little cover-up plan turned out to be a spectacular failure.”

Pegasus’s voice dropped, trembling with anger. “And whose fault do you think that is? If it hadn’t been for your idiotic stunt, my friend wouldn’t have been dragged into this! Black, have you ever tried using that brain of yours instead of relying on your bloody face?”

Sirius stiffened. He wasn’t easily provoked, he’d been insulted all his life. But something about those words stung.

“A stupid stunt?” he said coldly. “You and I both know this secret wasn’t going to last forever. It was bound to come out.”

“Not like this,” Pegasus snapped. His fists were trembling, his voice shaking with rage barely held in check.

Then he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

“Listen, Black. You can think this is all a joke, but Emilius isn’t like you lot. He never wanted the attention.”

“And what was he hiding it for, then?” Sirius shot back. “Too handsome for his own good?”

“Thanks for the compliment, Black.”

The new voice came from the doorway.

Emilius Ravophine stood there, pale but awake, his expression cool and composed.

Sirius froze.

First, Ravophine was awake.
Second, he’d just admitted out loud that the boy was handsome.

Pegasus was the first to react. He rushed forward. “What are you doing out of bed? Get back inside!”

Emilius smiled faintly. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood to sleep any longer.” He looked tired, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Besides, I heard someone out here discussing my looks. Quite flattering, really.”

Sirius quickly straightened up, masking the shock with a lazy drawl. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just wondering why you’d bother hiding a face like that.”

Emilius tilted his head, eyes glimmering. “And if I said I had a good reason, would you believe me?”

“Depends on what that reason is.”

Before Emilius could reply, Pegasus cut in sharply. “Emil, stop wasting your time on that mutt.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emilius said lightly, raising his hands as if to placate him. Then, just before turning away, he glanced back at Sirius.

“Still, thanks for worrying about me, Black.”

Sirius went rigid.

Pegasus snorted, grabbed Emilius by the arm, and led him away, leaving Sirius standing frozen in the middle of the corridor.

Chapter Text

Pegasus Grey hadn’t always been the person he was now.

Before he became the outspoken, mischievous, and free-spirited Gryffindor , he had been a frail child so weak that even running a few steps left him breathless.

As the only son of the prestigious Grey wizarding family, Pegasus was born carrying the expectations of his entire lineage. But contrary to the hopes for a strong, capable boy, he had been delicate from the moment he entered the world. His mother nearly died giving birth, and he had arrived as a fragile being, so slight that any strong gust of wind could have swept him away.

He couldn’t run for long, couldn’t climb, couldn’t play with the other children.

Then Emilius Ravophine appeared.

Pegasus remembered vividly the first time he met Emilius, on a bright summer afternoon when the Ravophine family visited. Pegasus had been sitting on the porch, watching the neighborhood wizarding children chase each other across the lawn, silently wishing he could run and play like them.

And then a boy appeared before him, hair golden as sunlight, eyes green as emeralds, gleaming with life. His shoulder-length golden hair was as soft as silk, shining brilliantly under the sunlight. His eyes were clear green pools, deep and still like an undisturbed lake.

A beauty unlike anything Pegasus had ever seen.

He had never met anyone so beautiful.

“Hi, you’re Pegasus Grey, right?”

The boy asked abruptly, his tone completely at odds with his flawless appearance. Pegasus froze, only nodding slowly.

“You’re…” “Emilius Ravophine. I came with my father. Your mother said you were out here and told me to come play with you.”

Pegasus blinked. He hadn’t expected his mother to arrange for someone to play with him. Occasionally, she tried to introduce him to other children from noble families, but no one wanted to play with a sickly boy who couldn’t keep up.

Emilius stepped closer, tilting his head curiously.

“Why are you sitting here? Why not go out and play?”

Pegasus lowered his head, clenching his hands together.

“I… I can’t run.”

Silence hung for a few seconds. Pegasus was used to pitying looks whenever he said this, used to empty reassurances like, “It’s okay, you’re special anyway.”

But Emilius didn’t say anything.

Instead, he laughed, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Your name’s Pegasus, and you can’t run?”

Pegasus snapped his head up, glaring at him.

“You think I want it this way?”

Emilius continued to smile, but there was no mockery in it. Instead, it felt to Pegasus like a statement of fact, that there was no reason a boy named Pegasus shouldn’t be able to run.Then Emilius reached out a hand.

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

Pegasus hesitated. He looked at the hand, golden hair catching the sunlight, glowing almost as if it were lit from within.

And, without fully understanding why, he reached out and took it.

Immediately, Emilius pulled him up, no hesitation, no delay, simply running with Pegasus toward the lush green lawn ahead.

At first, Pegasus stumbled, gasping for breath, each step heavy as if his body were resisting. But Emilius didn’t stop. He laughed, pulling Pegasus faster and faster. And for the first time in his life, Pegasus felt the wind in his hair, the sun blazing above, the absolute freedom he had never known.

After the game, Pegasus was utterly exhausted. His entire body ached, legs trembling so much that standing was difficult. When Emilius finally stopped, Pegasus collapsed onto the grass, and Emilius sat beside him, resting his chin on his hand with a look of delight.

“Tired?”

Pegasus had no energy to respond, only shot him a helpless glare.

Emilius laughed and then lay down fully on the grass, eyes half-closed, looking at the sky.

“But fun, right?”

Pegasus opened his mouth to protest, but then realized, it was true. He was too tired to move, yet this had been the happiest day of his life.

For the first time, he was not a frail, sheltered child, not an outsider watching others play. For the first time, he ran, he played, he truly experienced the world.

And all thanks to Emilius Ravophine.

Pegasus turned his head to the golden-haired boy lying next to him. Sunlight fell on him, turning his hair into a luminous gold, eyes reflecting the vast sky.

“Thank you,” he whispered, barely realizing he had said it.

“Why thank me? I had a lot of fun too,” Emilius replied.

Pegasus had never expected him to respond like that. In Pegasus’s mind, Emilius had always seemed untouchably beautiful, like the fairytale characters his mother had told him about. But now he lay on the grass, golden hair spilling like a halo, a gentle, sincere smile on his face.

“Because I’ve never had this much fun before.”

Even as Emilius grew closer to Dracy, and later with the arrival of Hayden Alert, James, Sirius, and Remus, Pegasus swore he would remain loyal to Emilius for life.

Pegasus Grey was not one to submit to anyone, but for Emilius Ravophine, he would do everything. No reason needed, no conditions required. If the whole world turned its back on Emilius, Pegasus would stand by him, in darkness or light.

Yet, even being so close, neither Pegasus nor Hayden could claim they fully understood him.

Emilius was a strange, unpredictable person.

He was like a marble wall, smooth, solid, leaving no trace behind. Emilius didn’t show emotions outwardly, nor did he allow anyone to grasp his thoughts. Even Pegasus, who had been by his side since childhood, seen his brightest smiles and coldest expressions, could not confidently say he truly understood Emilius.

Because Emilius had a very special way of hiding himself.

A terrifying calmness.

Even now, when all of Hogwarts buzzed with the revelation of his real face, when every gaze was upon him, Emilius Ravophine remained unnervingly composed.

A calm that made Pegasus and Hayden uneasy. Clearly, when the enchanted glasses broke, he had locked himself in the Room of Requirement, afraid to come out. They had tried every way to replace them. And yet, now that the secret was out, Emilius appeared… perfectly normal.

Pegasus and Hayden both sensed that something was wrong.

It wasn’t the kind of “wrong” people usually imagined, Emilius wasn’t panicking, angry, or upset. He remained as composed as ever. Far too composed.

Since returning to class, wherever he went, people stared. Whispers followed him, some eyes filled with admiration tinged with envy. Even at breakfast, a group of Gryffindor girls nearly shrieked as he walked past their table.

And yet Emilius continued to eat, read, attend lessons, and go about his business as if those gazes didn’t exist.

A calmness that was almost unsettling.

“How do you feel?”

Emilius looked up from his book, blinking at Pegasus. “Feel… how?”

Pegasus shrugged, his tone neutral. “About this. Don’t you feel… bothered?”

Emilius paused for a moment, as if considering the question. Finally, he just shrugged.

“Not really.”

Hayden frowned. “Not really? Since the glasses broke, you hid in the Room of Requirement the whole time. We searched the school trying to cover your face. You risked everything using that concealment charm. And now, with the whole school knowing, you’re not reacting at all?”

“Isn’t it all already done?” Emilius replied lightly.

“But I thought you’d be more upset.”

“So what do you want me to do? Get angry, shout, or run away?”

“Not that.” Pegasus shook his head. “I just thought you’d… react differently.”

Emilius looked at both of them for a long moment, then slowly set his book down.

“Pony, Hayden,” he said, his voice calm as if telling a story that had nothing to do with him. “Some things, if you keep trying to avoid them, only get heavier. Once everything’s out, the only thing I can do is accept it.”

Hayden chuckled. “Sounds philosophical.”

“Hayden, if you think this is the first time I’ve had to face other people’s eyes, you’re wrong.”

Pegasus stared at his friend for a long moment, then just shook his head, deciding not to pursue the topic any further.

At that moment, a familiar voice rang out from behind.

“Pony, my dearest friend—”

Pegasus sighed. He didn’t even need to turn around to know who had arrived. “Don’t call me that, Potter.”

James Potter ignored him, casually pulling out a chair to sit beside Pegasus, resting his elbows on the table, eyes shining with hopeful mischief. “Have you calmed down yet?”

“Not a chance.”

James clutched his chest, putting on a dramatic pose. “Pony, do you know life without your forgiveness would be meaningless?”

Pegasus smirked. “I didn’t realize I mattered that much to you, Potter.”

James nodded firmly. “Of course! Our great friendship can’t crumble over a little prank—”

“Little?” Pegasus cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

James forced a smile and glanced at Hayden for support. “Alert, tell me, isn’t Pony being a little too grumpy?”

Hayden didn’t even lift his eyes from his book.

“No.”

James turned to Emilius, eyes pleading like a puppy. “Ravophine, help me out here?”

“No.”

Although Hayden and Emilius had nearly been in danger in the incident, neither cared to hold a grudge against Potter. Pegasus’s fury had been punishment enough.

James buried his head in his hands in despair.

“Please! I regret it, I swear! Pegasus Grey, wise and noble, forgive me!”

Pegasus stared at him a moment, then sighed. “If you keep whining, I’ll kick you off this table.”

James immediately straightened, eyes full of hope. “So… you forgive me?”

“No.” Pegasus shrugged. “But I’m tired of hearing you babble.”

James immediately raised a fist in triumph. “Well, that’s half success!”

Sirius appeared just as James was laughing, thinking he was about to be forgiven.

“Merlin, Prongs, could you stop embarrassing yourselves for once?”

“Black, drag your sidekicks somewhere else.”

James immediately protested. “Hey, I’m making progress! Don’t block the path to peace!”

Sirius patted James on the shoulder in mock consolation, but his eyes inadvertently drifted to Emilius.

Since the hospital wing, they hadn’t said a word to each other. Ravophine never cared to acknowledge him, and Sirius hadn’t tried to tease him even once.

But seeing him sitting there, his heart skipped a beat.

Long golden hair falling past his shoulders reflected the sunlight, radiant like threads of light woven into silk, framing that perfect face. Deep green eyes focused on some Muggle novel he was reading, entirely indifferent to Sirius’s presence.

Groups of students passing by, whether deliberately or by accident, paused to look at Emilius. Some glanced briefly before moving on; others stared unabashedly. Murmurs arose, some voices tinged with excitement, some eyes filled with admiration, curiosity, even overt infatuation.

Emilius didn’t react.

No fluster, no annoyance, no vanity. Nothing.

Sirius felt a strange, inexplicable discomfort.

Ravophine had not been like this before.

He remembered clearly how the boy had locked himself in the Room of Requirement for two whole days after the glasses were broken. He had hidden, trying everything to avoid revealing his true face.

But now, with everything exposed, with all of Hogwarts talking about him, Emilius remained terrifyingly calm. As if nothing had ever happened.

Sirius clenched his fists, eyes scanning the curious onlookers.

He didn’t know what annoyed him more, the stares or Emilius Ravophine’s unnerving indifference.

Suddenly, Emilius closed his book and leisurely stood up. He still didn’t bother to acknowledge James or Sirius.

“I’m heading back.”

Hayden propped his chin on his hand. “Off to run errands for Hagrid again tonight?”

“Yeah.” Emilius brushed a bit of dust off his sleeve. “Much more interesting than tidying the storeroom.”

Pegasus let out an annoyed sigh. “Not fair at all! Why is it only you who gets to go out while the rest of us have to stay stuck in the piles of old stuff?”

“That’s true. I bet running errands with Hagrid is way more fun.”

“It’s nothing special,” Emilius shrugged. “Just walking around, helping him care for magical creatures, checking cages, tidying the grounds. What’s so exciting about that?”

“Still better than sitting around breathing dust and dragging piles of moldy stuff to clean!” Pegasus scowled.

“I’ll ask to join Hagrid on detention next time too.”

“Go ahead.” Emilius smirked, then turned and walked out of the Great Hall.

James raised an eyebrow, watching him leave, then turned to Pegasus and Hayden. “Don’t you guys think he’s a little… weird?”

“No.” Both answered in unison, then walked off, ignoring James’s confused expression.

---------------

The darkness of the Forbidden Forest was thick like a velvet curtain draped over everything, with only the pale yellow light of Hagrid’s lantern illuminating the towering trees. Damp air and the scent of decaying earth hung around, leaves rustled, and glowing eyes flickered in the underbrush, everything felt like a world entirely separate from Hogwarts.

Emilius walked lightly beside Hagrid, hands in his pockets, looking completely at ease as if he were merely strolling through a garden. When Hagrid mentioned some recent anomalies in the forest, Emilius’s first reaction was a curious desire to see for himself.

The thing was, Hagrid wasn’t exactly a worrier. To him, any magical creature was lovable, and if there was real danger, a little caution would suffice. Neither of them thought it was odd for a student like Emilius to be wandering through the Forbidden Forest at midnight.

“You sure you’re not cold, Emilius?”

“I’m fine, Hagrid. This weather is even nicer than the castle.”

Hagrid nodded and kept walking, though he still seemed a little uneasy. After a while, he spoke again, hesitantly.

“Ye alright, right?”

Emilius looked at him. “Alright with what?”

“The… school thing. Everyone’s been talking. Anyone giving ye trouble?”

A corner of Emilius’s mouth lifted, as if the question was completely unnecessary. “Who would dare bother me?”

Hagrid shifted awkwardly. “I mean… now that yer real face has been revealed, does it bother you?”

Emilius didn’t answer. He glanced toward the depths of the forest, where the darkness was thick like a mystical curtain yet to be drawn back. The wind rustling through the treetops sounded like whispers of the forest.

A rustling came from nearby bushes. Immediately after, a large figure lunged out, nearly colliding with Emilius.

“Fangs!” Hagrid laughed joyfully when he saw his giant hound wagging its tail, tongue lolling. “Over here, boy!”

The massive dog, who might have seemed terrifying, had wide, innocent eyes like a puppy. It rushed over to nuzzle Emilius’s legs. Emilius raised a hand to support its huge head as Fangs pressed against him, tail wagging so vigorously it sent a shower of decayed leaves into the air.

“You’re just as enthusiastic as ever, huh?”

Emilius reached out to scratch behind its ears. Fangs happily rubbed its head into his palm, looking utterly content, even making Hagrid laugh.

Watching the boy and the dog like that, Hagrid remembered the earlier conversation and asked again:

“So, are yer really not bothered eh?”

Emilius shook his head.

“If I say no, it would be lying,”

Hagrid was silent for a moment, then gently patted Emilius on the shoulder with his large hand, nearly making him stumble.

“Yer strong, kid,” Hagrid said proudly. “But being strong doesn’t mean yer have to carry everything alone, remember that.”

Emilius looked up at him, green eyes reflecting the lantern light swaying in Hagrid’s hand.

“I know.”

Then he straightened up, brushing off the dry leaves clinging to his robes.

“By the way, Hagrid, why don’t we go a bit deeper? If we’re already out here, we might as well see something interesting.”

Hagrid widened his eyes, then burst into hearty laughter.

“Knew you’d say that! Alright then, but stick close to me!”

He adjusted the lantern and strode confidently into the forest’s depths. Emilius smiled, lifting his feet to follow, unaware that something in the forest’s silent shadows was watching him.

Hagrid suddenly stopped, eyes scanning the thick underbrush at his feet.

“Hagrid?”

Hagrid didn’t answer. He bent down and moved aside the fallen leaves, and at that moment, Emilius saw them.

Spiders.

They weren’t large, but the notable thing was their number. Small spiders crawled in clusters on the forest floor, their legs brushing the leaves, producing a faint rustling sound.

Emilius looked at Hagrid and immediately understood.

Spiders weren’t creatures that Hagrid feared, on the contrary, he always had a special care for them. There was only one reason he appeared tense: these weren’t ordinary spiders.

Hagrid stood for a few moments, then seemingly remembered something and patted Emilius on the shoulder again, nearly causing him to lurch forward.

“Hey, Emilius, why don’t yer and Fangs check out that way for anything unusual?” he said quickly, his voice slightly awkward. “I’ll handle this side myself.”

Emilius narrowed his eyes at him. “You just said we’re not supposed to split up.”

“Well—” Hagrid scratched his head, “I guess it’s okay, just a little ways! Yer go with Fangs, see if there are any strange tracks, alright eh?”

Emilius studied him. He wasn’t a fool, nor easily deceived. Hagrid was clearly hiding something, but he also didn’t want to put him in danger.

He shrugged. “Fine.”

Without asking further, Emilius and Fangs turned in the other direction, their figures gradually disappearing behind the tall trees.

Hagrid exhaled in relief. He glanced at the cluster of spiders, then cautiously stepped further into the darkness, where long legs and glowing eyes waited silently.

-------------------

Emilius walked along the uneven forest path, Fangs trotting obediently behind him. Twisting roots jutted up from the ground like the gnarled arms of the forest, forcing him to step carefully to avoid tripping. The surrounding space was so quiet that all one could hear was the rustle of leaves underfoot and the whispering wind through the towering treetops.

Ahead, the surface of a lake gradually appeared.

In the dark forest, the vast water reflected the moon high in the sky. The scene was surreal, breathtaking, but carried with it an indescribable chill.

Emilius stopped at the water’s edge and sat down on a flat rock. Fangs wagged his tail and plopped down beside him.

Then, Emilius slumped.

Not sleepiness. But exhausted .

The eyes that had been on him all day, curious, admiring, infatuated, jealous, wary, even skeptical. The incessant whispers, the chatter he could hear even when others thought he wasn’t listening.

He knew. He knew everything.

They talked about him like he was some strange creature, a novelty to be analyzed and dissected. No one cared who he really was, they only sought to satisfy their own curiosity.

He had tried to act normal. Tried to behave as if nothing had happened, as if being exposed hadn’t affected him at all. But… it was exhausting.

Emilius exhaled and gently stroked Fangs’ thick fur.

The dog looked up at him. Though it could not speak, it sensed his mood. Fangs nudged his hand with its head, then gently licked it, as if to say it was still there.

Emilius closed his eyes, letting the forest’s quiet embrace envelop him. At least here, he could allow himself to relax a little.

From the shadows beyond the trees, a pair of eyes gleamed. Light footsteps moved softly over the dry leaves, almost without a sound. A large dark shape emerged from the night, appearing before him, a black dog.

He recognized it immediately.

This dog… was the same one that had been with the tall deer and the strange horse the other day.

“It’s you? Where are your friends?”

Emilius’ gaze lingered on it for a long moment. It looked exactly as before: pitch-black fur, sharp gleaming eyes, but no trace of menace. Fangs wagged his tail, showing no signs of caution, even letting out a small bark as a greeting. Hagrid’s hunting dog was loyal to the core; it didn’t immediately treat everyone as a friend. If Fangs wasn’t wary of this black dog and even seemed familiar, it meant they had met before… and it wasn’t an enemy.

Then it was definitely not dangerous.

“Come here.”

The black dog hesitated slightly, ears perked in alert.

Seeing it stand still, Emilius raised his hand and made a beckoning gesture.

The black dog approached slowly, cautiously, its eyes studying him, alert, but not hostile.

He reached out. But just as his fingertips neared the sleek black fur, the dog suddenly sidestepped. It didn’t act aggressively. It simply… didn’t want to be touched.

“Not used to being touched, huh?”

The black dog didn’t respond, only staring at him with those bright eyes.

“That’s fine. I don’t like being touched either.”

Fangs, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere, wagged his tail excitedly, nudging the black dog with his nose before turning back to rub against Emilius’ hand as usual. Instinctively, Emilius patted Fangs’ head, eyes never leaving the strange visitor.

“Just gonna stand there staring at me?” Emilius spoke, half teasing, half waiting for a reaction.

The dog didn’t move.

The night wind blew, carrying the cool mist from the lake. The black dog finally made a motion, it slowly lay down, head tilted slightly, still keeping its gaze fixed on him.

“Fine then, do whatever you want.” He shrugged, leaning against a tree behind him. “I’m not in the mood to chase you away anyway.”

Emilius looked at the black dog, eyes unconsciously narrowing. He couldn’t explain why, but there was something about this dog that reminded him of someone…

A troublesome one, always meddling in other people’s business.

A noisy, irritating nuisance.

Unconsciously, the corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile.

“Black.”

The dog flinched, ears rising slightly, clearly startled by the sudden name. Emilius nodded to himself, a satisfied expression as if he’d just discovered something amusing.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’ll call you Black.”

The black dog continued to watch him, eyes gleaming with a subtle inscrutability. But in the end, it simply snorted lightly through its nose.

“Don’t like it? But I didn’t ask for your opinion anyway.”

Fangs barked again, tail wagging so hard it sent a scattering of dry leaves flying. Emilius reached out to pat him, still keeping his gaze fixed on the black dog.

“See? Fangs agrees too.”

“Alright then. From now on, you’re Black.”

Chapter Text

O.W.L.s turned the castle into chaos.

The hallways and library were packed with students, heads buried in textbooks, muttering spells under their breath or scribbling last minute notes on scraps of parchment. And in the middle of that storm, Emilius Ravophine stood out, calm, unhurried, almost serene.

While others panicked, he seemed completely at ease. The girls who admired him whispered among themselves: “He doesn’t even need to study,” and “He’s a real prodigy,” rumors that only made Emilius want to disappear somewhere quiet. Unfortunately, peace was impossible, because

“Teach me Potions,” said Pegasus Grey, slamming his book down in front of him.

“And me too!” added Hayden Alert, sliding into the seat beside him. “Actually, not just Potions. I need help with... well, everything.”

Emilius stared at his two best friends: one perpetually lazy, the other hopelessly clueless.

He sighed. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to start asking for help?”

“It’s not too late!” Hayden pleaded. “Please, if I fail, my father’s going to send me howlers for a month.”

“What’s your weakest subject?” Emilius asked.

Hayden thought for a moment. “All of them.”

“…”

To avoid the endless chatter of fangirls and nosy onlookers, the three of them ended up studying in the Room of Requirement. It transformed into a spacious study hall filled with warm light, long wooden tables covered in books, a full potions cabinet, a corner for practicing spells, and even a soft couch for when exhaustion inevitably hit.

“Let’s start with Potions,” Emilius said calmly, setting a book on the table.

Pegasus leaned back. “I feel cheated.”

“How so?”

“We came here to study, but only Hayden and I are doing the actual studying. You look like you’re on vacation.”

“Yeah!” Hayden nodded furiously. “You should be the one stressed out for tutoring us!”

Emilius flipped open the book, unfazed. “Stress doesn’t solve anything.”

Pegasus smirked. “And what does?”

“Hard work.”

“…Shut up.”

Hayden groaned, staring at the complex potion recipes. “Emil, there’s no way I can remember all of this.”

“You can.”

“No, seriously, I can’t.”

“Hayden,” Emilius said patiently, eyes steady. “Listen to me. It’s not that you can’t, you just haven’t tried the right way.”

Hayden blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Remember the Summoning Charm?”

“Accio? Yeah.”

“Then this is the same thing. Potions are built on logic, not chaos.” Emilius pointed to the ingredient list. “Look here—Felix Felicis uses unicorn tears. Why?”

“Because… it brings luck?”

“Right. And what’s the magical property of unicorn tears?”

“They’re pure… protective.”

“Exactly. So the potion protects you from misfortune. See the pattern?”

Hayden’s eyes widened. “Wait, so that’s how it works!”

Pegasus let out a low whistle. “You just did what none of our professors could, turned Hayden from an idiot into a functional human being.”

“Touching,” Hayden muttered, but he was grinning.

Under Emilius’s supervision, Pegasus at least stayed focused enough to brew something that didn’t explode. Hayden, on the other hand, managed to mix up half his spells and nearly blew up an ingredient jar.

“Hayden,” Emilius said, rubbing his temples. “It’s Accio, not Acchio, and definitely not Achoo.”

“But I—”

“No buts.” Emilius pushed the book toward him. “Repeat after me: Accio.”

“…Accio.”

“Good. Now try it with that cup.”

Hayden raised his wand, concentrating with all his might. “Accio cup!”

The cup wobbled, then flew straight into Pegasus’s face.

“…”

“Oh Merlin! I’m so sorry!”

Pegasus rubbed his forehead, glaring. “You sure that wasn’t on purpose?”

“I swear it wasn’t!”

Emilius sighed. That night, he realized that tutoring these two was more exhausting than taking the O.W.L.s themselves.

Even so, despite the chaos of revision and tutoring, Emilius couldn’t escape the growing attention from Hogwarts’ population.

By the end of the day, he’d received at least five handwritten letters, a handful of small gifts, and countless glances following him down the corridors.

“I should start charging you for protection from fangirls,” Pegasus said with a smirk. “Bodyguard rates for the great Ravophine should be sky-high.”

Emilius gave him a flat look. “You talk like they’re dangerous.”

“You have no idea. One fifth year actually wrote a poem about you yesterday.”

“…A poem?”

“Yeah. Something like ‘eyes as deep as autumn lakes’ or whatever.”

“…”

Hayden burst out laughing. “Well, to be fair, you are super popular now. I bet half the girls in school have a crush on you.”

“And the other half?”

“They do too, but they’re too busy studying.”

“…”

------------------------

Remus Lupin had always prided himself on keeping his composure in almost any situation. But looking around the library now, students hunched over books, some collapsing from exhaustion, others muttering spells under their breath like they were begging Merlin for mercy, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the approaching O.W.L.s.

And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, Emilius Ravophine seemed completely untouched by it.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching on his golden hair. He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, idly turning the pages of a book with a quiet, effortless grace. He looked almost unreal, like a painting come to life, distant and still.

The book in his hands wasn’t a textbook, but a Muggle novel: The Godfather by Mario Puzo. His green eyes moved across the lines with calm focus, as though exams didn’t even exist.

Remus couldn’t help asking.

“...You’re not revising?”

Without looking up, Emilius turned a page.

“I’ve revised enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. He knew Ravophine was brilliant, but this level of confidence still felt… excessive.

“Isn’t that a bit reckless?”

This time, Emilius did glance up.

“You worried about me?”

Remus chuckled.

“Not exactly. Just curious.”

Another voice cut in before he could say more.

“Actually, he has every right to be confident.”

Both of them turned. Standing by the shelves was Severus Snape, a thick Potions tome in his hands, dark eyes sharp and assessing. Remus blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Snape to comment.

“You think so too?” he asked.

Snape gave a short, dismissive huff.

“He absorbs everything too quickly. Understands Potions and Transfiguration so thoroughly he could probably innovate his own theories. If anyone in this year could skip revision and still get top marks, it’s Emilius Ravophine.”

Remus looked back at Emilius. The boy only gave a faint, unreadable smile, neither denying nor basking in the praise.

“Didn’t expect a compliment from you, Snape.”

Snape didn’t reply. His gaze flicked briefly to The Godfather in Emilius’s hands before he turned and walked off.

Remus watched him leave, then said,

“You’ve earned Snape’s respect? That’s impressive.”

“Who knows.” Emilius turned another page.

“He hates your friends more than he hates me.”

Remus couldn’t help but laugh, but after a short pause, he asked quietly:

“Do you hate me too? Because of them?”

Emilius didn’t even look up.

“You’ve never done anything to me. Why would I?”

The answer was so simple it caught Remus off guard. No sarcasm. No hidden edge. Just honesty.

For a moment, Remus was silent. He’d always carried a faint, unspoken guilt, being the one in James’s group beside Pegasus who didn’t join in their bullying, yet never stopping it either. Part of him had always wondered whether people like Ravophine or Snape saw him as just another one of “them.” But it turned out, at least for Emilius, things weren’t that complicated.

“Fair enough,” Remus murmured with a faint smile.

At first, it had been coincidence.

The library during exam season was so crowded that finding a seat was harder than getting Snape to praise James Potter. So when Remus spotted an open space at Ravophine’s table, he didn’t hesitate to take it.

Emilius hadn’t objected, he’d only glanced up once before returning to his book.

Remus hadn’t planned on talking either. They were simply two students sharing a table, working in silence. Until, while struggling through a particularly tricky Transfiguration problem, Remus muttered under his breath:

“Where did I go wrong this time…”

A calm voice answered almost instantly.

“You forgot the inversion rule for higher-level transformations.”

Remus looked up. Emilius was still reading, but one slender finger tapped lightly on the exact line of his notes where the missing rule was written.

Remus blinked, checked his work… and realized he was right.

From that moment on, Remus began to ask Emilius questions. And to his surprise, Ravophine not only knew everything, he explained things clearly, patiently. Never condescending, never annoyed. Just… precise.

“How do you remember all this?”

“I read it,” Emilius said simply, “so I remember it.”

“…”

They had only been studying together for a few minutes when a hand suddenly reached over and snatched the Muggle novel right out of Emilius’s hands.

“Oh?”

The voice was unmistakable. Sirius Black stood there, turning the book over in his hands with a grin.

“The Godfather? Didn’t peg you for a Muggle-novel type.”

For the first time, Emilius looked up, expression unreadable.

“Give it back.”

Naturally, Sirius didn’t. He flipped through a few pages, smirking.

“Didn’t think we’d have the same taste in books.”

“Didn’t think you could read, Black.”

“Ha-ha.”

Emilius’s gaze remained flat, detached.
Something about that calmness made Sirius’s grin falter. That indifferent look, it always got under his skin. Ravophine never reacted, never played along. Always distant. Not like that night in the Forbidden Forest, the moonlight over the still lake, and Emilius sitting alone on the shore. That had been the first time Sirius saw him look real. Tired. Human.

Sirius tightened his grip on the book, then, before he could stop himself, smirked and leaned in closer, one hand braced on the table, voice low and half-teasing, half-serious:

“What if I said I wanted you to tutor me?”

Remus almost dropped his quill. He whipped around to stare at Sirius as if the boy had just declared his undying love in the middle of the library.

Emilius didn’t flinch. He simply reached out, took the book back, and set it down. Then he looked straight at Sirius, green eyes calm and steady.

“If you’re serious,” he said quietly,“then sit down.”

Sirius froze.

That wasn’t the response he expected. He’d thought Emilius would mock him, or brush him off with some icy remark. Instead, there was no mockery—just quiet, unnerving sincerity.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Sirius chuckled, dragged out a chair, and dropped into it, propping his chin on one hand with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Remus could only shake his head. He had a feeling things were about to get very interesting.

-------------------------

Sirius rested his chin on his hand, his lazy grey eyes fixed on Emilius.

They were supposed to be studying, but truth be told, Sirius hadn’t absorbed a single word.

All he could focus on was the way Emilius’s lips moved as he spoke, soft and deliberate, the smooth line of his jaw illuminated by the library’s gentle light. His pale skin looked so soft it almost begged to be touched.

Sirius blinked and realized he’d been staring for far too long. Remus, who had witnessed everything, only hid a quiet smile. He knew that look all too well.

Sirius Black was definitely enchanted.

What surprised Remus, though, was that Emilius seemed completely unaware. The blond boy simply continued explaining, occasionally flipping through his notes or jotting something down, entirely indifferent to Sirius’s watchful gaze.

It was a scene that couldn’t possibly go unnoticed.

Several girls nearby were already sneaking glances toward their table, eyes sparkling as though they’d stumbled upon the sight of the century. Two of Hogwarts’ most striking boys sitting together, one cold and distant, the other charming and reckless. The image alone was enough to send the onlookers into silent fits of excitement.

A few even started whispering, trying and failing to contain their giddy smiles.

Sirius, of course, noticed. Normally, he would’ve relished the attention. But now, he couldn’t care less.

Because every ounce of his focus was locked onto one person.

That indifferent expression, calm, poised, untouchable. It was perfect in a way that didn’t feel real, like a mask molded too perfectly to ever come off.
But Sirius knew better. He remembered that night, by the lake in the Forbidden Forest. Moonlight glimmering on still water, and Emilius sitting alone on the shore, stripped of his usual arrogance and calm. For the first time, Sirius had seen him look tired. Empty. As if carrying a burden no one else could see.

That image lingered in his mind, stubbornly, hauntingly.

And what unsettled Sirius most wasn’t pity. It was that he wanted to see it again.

Not because he enjoyed seeing Emilius vulnerable, but because that had been the real him. Not the flawless mask, not the practiced detachment, just Emilius Ravophine, unguarded and human.

Sirius wanted to see more. He wanted to understand him.

Wanted to know what was hidden beneath that perfect surface, something no one else had managed to reach.

But how did you get someone like that to lower their guard?

Before he could think further, a sudden commotion broke out outside the library. The noise swelled quickly, students whispering, rushing toward the windows, their voices rising in excited murmurs.

“What’s going on?” Remus frowned, looking up from his pile of books.

Sirius tore his gaze away from Emilius and glanced toward the library doors, where a group of students had just burst in, breathless and wide-eyed.

“Roderick Ravophine! It’s Roderick Ravophine! He’s here!”

The name hit the room like a spark in dry tinder. Heads snapped up, whispers rippled through the air.

Roderick Ravophine One of the most distinguished wizards of his generation, a celebrated hero in the war against the Dark Arts, a powerful figure in the wizarding world… and, of course, Emilius Ravophine’s father.

Parents visiting Hogwarts was rare enough. But this wasn’t just any parent, it was one of the most renowned wizards alive.

“Merlin…” someone breathed. “The Roderick Ravophine, at Hogwarts?”

“Because of that fight, probably,” another student muttered.

Immediately, all eyes turned toward Emilius, the son of the famous hero.

Sirius glanced at him too. But Emilius simply turned a page, completely unfazed, as if none of it concerned him in the slightest.

Remus stared at him in disbelief.

“Your father’s here?”

“Seems like it.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, smirking slightly.

“You don’t look thrilled.”

At that, Emilius finally set his book down. His emerald eyes glinted with unmistakable weariness.

“Give me one reason I should be.”

“Because of the fight?” Sirius guessed.

“Because I lost control,” Emilius corrected flatly.

Then he stood, stretching with a long, feline motion that made both Remus and Sirius blink in surprise. With an unbothered yawn, he slung his bag over his shoulder and started toward the door, calm, slowly , like someone heading out for a walk instead of a summons to the Headmaster’s office.

Remus watched him go and sighed under his breath.

“Ravophine really is… peculiar.”

------------------------------

From his school days at Hogwarts, Roderick Ravophine had already been a living legend.

The brightest student ever taught by Dumbledore, some even claimed that, had Roderick desired power, he might have risen to the same legendary heights as the revered Headmaster himself… or the Dark Lord. Even young Dumbledore once yearned to change the world. He had sought power, believed in lofty ideals, and for a time, lost himself in ambition. But Roderick was different. Genius often comes with a thirst for greatness, yet Roderick never pursued power. He understood that strength was not something to be sought after, but a tool, to protect what truly mattered.

A wizard of great might without arrogance. A brilliant mind content with his own place in the world. And perhaps, it was that very humility which made him greater than those who constantly strove for the top.

“It has been a long time, my dear Roderick. How was your travel in America?”

Roderick Ravophine smiled politely.

“ Albus,” he said in his calm, deep voice. “The trip went well enough, but it is rather unfortunate that our reunion must take place under such... embarrassing circumstances.”

Dumbledore chuckled softly.

“A mere scuffle among students. And besides, Emilius was not the one who started it.”

Silence fell comfortably between them. Roderick took a sip of tea, then set his cup down.

“Tell me honestly, Albus,” he said, “how serious is it?”

The Headmaster folded his hands together.

“No serious damage. But Emilius did use a forbidden spell. Though the curse has been lifted, prolonged exposure has clearly affected his temperament. And... his true face is no longer a secret.”

Roderick did not look surprised. He merely nodded once.

“I had expected this day would come.”

“Nor did I foresee it happening so soon,” said Dumbledore gently. “Yet perhaps this is an opportunity for Emilius to face himself.”

Roderick sighed, leaning back

“He has always been a stubborn child.”

“I’ve made sure the matter won’t spread,” Dumbledore continued. “After all, those five boys he fought were all from powerful families. Their pride, shall we say… exceeds common measure. Being beaten senseless by one Emilius Ravophine, barehanded, no less, doesn’t make for a story they’d want retold.”

Roderick smiled faintly, not because it amused him, but because he saw through it. His old teacher never did anything without purpose.

He set down his cup, eyes sharp yet calm.

“Then, Albus,” he said slowly, “how might I repay this favour?”

“Oh, come now,” Dumbledore waved a hand. “No talk of favours, my dear Roderick. Children will quarrel, it is nothing. Though…” He paused, eyes twinkling. “There is one matter I’d like your opinion on.”

A brief silence followed, broken only by the crackle of the fireplace.

“After he graduates,” Dumbledore said, “I would like Emilius to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

The faint smile on Roderick’s lips faded. Dumbledore was not jesting. He never made such offers lightly.

“He is still a child, Albus.”

“And you were very young when you joined your first war,” Dumbledore replied gently.

“I will not have my son risk his life.”

Dumbledore’s expression did not change; he had anticipated the answer.

“Roderick, Emilius is not only talented, he is exceptional. One of the finest of his generation.”

“That has never been reason enough to send a child to war,” Roderick said quietly.

“I know.” Dumbledore’s tone softened. “But you and I both know, war does not ask for permission before it comes. We will need young wizards like him.”

Roderick exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair.

“Once, I might not have disagreed,” he admitted. “But Emilius is not me.”

“He has talent,” Roderick continued, “but what he’s endured… I only wish for him to live in peace. Ten years ago, I almost lost him once, Albus. I will not lose him again.”

The fire crackled softly. Neither spoke for a long moment.

Then Dumbledore said quietly:

“I won’t force him. I only want to give him a choice. If the day ever comes when this world calls upon him, Emilius should know, he will not fight alone.”

The firelight danced, reflecting in Roderick Ravophine’s thoughtful eyes. A hesitant knock echoed through the quiet room.

“Come in,” Dumbledore said kindly.

The door opened.

Emilius Ravophine stepped inside, his Hogwarts uniform impeccably neat, a clear sign of someone trying very hard to appear composed before his parent. His gaze swept the room, settling on the two men.

“Dad. Professor Dumbledore.”

Roderick looked at his son and inclined his head slightly.

The air in the room grew still. Dumbledore, ever perceptive, broke the silence with a warm smile.

“Please, have a seat, Emilius. We’re just having a little chat, this isn’t a trial.”

-----------------------------

Even though he was fully grown, Emilius never imagined he’d have to go through a scene like this.

He lowered his head slightly, eyes glued to the patterned carpet, and idly doodled on his knee.

Boring beyond belief.

He had expected that with father personally coming to Hogwarts, things would be serious. But instead, here he was, sitting quietly while the two of them chatted like old friends: tea cups in hand, discussing past , politics, and trivial stories, without so much as a single mention of his incident.

Dumbledore poured more tea, smiling calmly as if this were just a casual visit. Roderick responded politely, and the conversation went on, completely ignoring Emilius, as though he were just a shadow sitting there.

Impatience started to creep in.

Couldn’t they at least say something about the duel? Or was the lecture going to come later, only after they were done with their gossip and tea?

Glancing at his father, Emilius searched for a sign of anger.

There was none.

But… there was also no sign that he wasn’t angry.

Normally, his father rarely lost his temper. Even at his angriest, he would simply take a sip of tea and say, “Is that so?”

Unpredictable.

Emilius sighed, doodling some more.

The two adults continued their leisurely conversation, discussing Earl Grey tea, rare silver-feathered phoenixes in Switzerland, and stories from their youth. Emilius sat there, increasingly feeling… off.

Wasn’t his father here because of the fight? Shouldn’t there be at least a serious conversation about right and wrong?

But no, they talked about tea, birds, and memories. It wasn’t until Dumbledore finally stood, smiling gently, and escorted the two of them toward the door that Emilius blinked in surprise.

Wait a second

He looked at his father, then at Dumbledore, suspiciously:

“So… you’re not going to talk about it?”

Roderick casually adjusted his cuff.

“What else is there to say when I already know?”

Dumbledore stroked his silver beard, smiling warmly:

“You promised not to repeat it and has served detention. What more is there to discuss? Can’t two old friends enjoy a peaceful meeting?”

Emilius: “….”

Wait, had he been tricked?

He glared at the two adults suspiciously, but Roderick continued walking slowly, and Dumbledore only cleared his throat, as if nothing unusual had happened. Emilius opened his mouth to say something, but ended up muttering:

“And I’ve been sitting here the whole time… for what exactly?”

-------------------------------

The corridor was quiet with just father and son walking. Emilius cast a wary glance at Roderick.

“You’re not angry, are you?”

Roderick lightly tapped his head.

“You little rascal! Do you even realize how serious it is to use a forbidden spell?” He shook his head.

“And Hayden and Pegasus too… you three really are reckless.”

Emilius rubbed his head, frowning.

“Dad, I’m grown up now!”

“Yeah, grown, but still acting like a child.”

Roderick chuckled, then returned to a serious tone.

“It wasn’t for nothing that your mother and I worked so hard to create that glasses. If there was a safer, better way, we would have used it.”

Emilius fell silent, feeling a twinge of guilt. He knew exactly how much his parents had struggled to protect him, and yet he…

“Too late now,” he sighed, kicking a pebble absentmindedly. “Everyone knows anyway.”

Roderick looked at his son for a long moment, then slowly asked:

“How do you feel about that?”

Emilius froze.

He had expected a lecture, or at least a serious scolding. But this question. He didn’t know how to answer.

Roderick studied his son’s face, delicate and rarely seen without glasses. From childhood, Emilius had always worn them, even at home. Now taller and stronger than his father, anyone would assume Emilius was confident, proud, and fearless.

But Roderick knew better than anyone. Behind that calm exterior were hidden scars, memories time could not erase. And now, with nothing left to hide, was his son truly okay?

“It’s annoying,” Emilius muttered. “But now everyone knows. No hiding it anymore.”

Roderick said nothing, walking a little slower, as if weighing his next words.

“So… what are you planning to do next?”

Emilius frowned.

“What else? Pretend nothing happened.”

Roderick laughed.

“Pretend nothing happened, huh? Sounds like you.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“I’m just stating the truth,” he shrugged. “You’re excellent at ignoring things you don’t want to face.”

Roderick pulled a small leather pouch from his robes, an expandable magical bag. He rummaged inside and took out a new pair of glasses, identical to Emilius’ old ones.

“You may not even need these anymore, but better safe than sorry.”

Emilius stared at the glasses, conflicted. Part of him wanted to refuse, but another part felt relieved, at least there was still something to shield him. He hesitated, then reached for them.

“…Thanks, dad.”

Roderick smiled softly, ruffling his son’s hair as if he were still the little boy he once was.

“Do what feels right. No one expects you to change instantly.”

Emilius scrunched his nose, mumbling:

“You’re treating me like a child.”

“Big body, still a child at heart,” Roderick chuckled.

Emilius kept staring at the magical pouch, eyes shining with anticipation.

Roderick squinted.

“What now?”

Emilius feigned indifference, but his eyes never left the bag, as if it would magically produce what he wanted. Roderick sighed, reaching in again, then paused, glancing at his son.

“Guess what else I’ve got in here?”

Emilius didn’t answer, waiting patiently. Finally, Roderick pulled out a small paper bag and tossed it to him.

“Here, you little rascal. You were too clever for me.”

Emilius opened it to find the familiar scent of pastries his mother made. A satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

“Next time, just give them to me. Don’t make a fuss.”

“If there be a next time, I’ll eat them all. Don’t forget to save some for Hayden and Pony.”

Roderick turned to leave, but suddenly a commotion erupted ahead.

“Is that Mr. Ravophine?”

“Could we have your autograph?”

Before Emilius could react, a group of Gryffindors, led by James Potter, charged forward like a whirlwind. In seconds, his father was surrounded.

“Mr. Ravophine! I’m James Potter! My dad talks about you all the time—”

“I heard you once defeated a group of Dark wizards in Eastern Europe alone, is that true?”

“How do you cast spells and still look that cool?”

“Do you give defense lessons? I’ll sign up!”

Roderick froze, but quickly regained his composure. Surrounded by boisterous Gryffindors, he couldn’t help but sweat slightly.

And Emilius?

The moment he saw his father cornered, his eyes lit up like he’d just witnessed a rare, amusing scene. Arms crossed, he watched for a while, lips twitching to suppress laughter.

Tch, serves them right for teasing me earlier.

Without a word, he turned and slipped away before Roderick could call after him.

Chapter Text

Christmas was drawing near, and Hogwarts was wrapped in a thick, dazzling white coat of snow. The warmth from the floating candles in the Great Hall mixed with the scent of cinnamon, pinewood, and hot chocolate, filling the castle with a festive glow. Everywhere students laughed and chattered about their coming holidays.
But Sirius Black was in no mood for any of it.

He couldn’t explain why, every time he opened the Marauder’s Map, his eyes automatically sought out the name Emilius Ravophine. He couldn’t explain why, when he spotted that tiny dot representing the Slytherin boy, a strange… relief washed over him.

And worst of all, he couldn’t explain why he kept following the little menace.

The first time, he told himself it was coincidence. He just happened to pass by, not like he was tracking him or anything. But then it happened again.

And again. And again…

By the time he caught himself turning into Padfoot to quietly trail Emilius into the Forbidden Forest, or stealing James’s Invisibility Cloak to shadow Emilius, Hayden, and Pegasus on their daily activities , he had to admit something was wrong with him.

But he refused to accept the truth.

You don’t like him, he told himself. You’re just curious.

The bloke’s weird as hell; of course you want to figure him out.

But deep down, Sirius Black knew his curiosity wasn’t innocent.

He liked looking at Emilius.

He didn’t want anyone else looking at Emilius the way he did.

And Sirius Black hated that feeling.

He needed to do something before he lost his mind.

———————

“What did you just say?” Pegasus Grey nearly choked on his butterbeer, staring wide-eyed at Emilius Ravophine.
The blond boy calmly sipped his tea, green eyes blank as a frozen lake.

“I’m not going home for Christmas.”

Hayden Alert, halfway through a bite of pumpkin pasty, froze.

“You’re… not going home?”

“Exactly what I said.” Emilius set his cup down, tone as indifferent as ever.

Pegasus narrowed his eyes.

“Oi. You’re hiding something from us, aren’t you?”

“No.” Emilius replied, flat and emotionless.

“Cut the crap, Ravophine,” Hayden frowned. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.” Emilius repeated, eerily calm. “I just want some time to think.”

“Alright then, what are you planning to do this Christmas?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know my arse.” Pegasus flicked him on the forehead. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to rot in the library for the entire holiday.”

“Sounds quite nice, actually.”

Hayden pressed a hand to his forehead, exhausted.
“For Merlin’s sake, learn to enjoy Christmas like a normal human being.”

“What did your parents say?”

“They said I can do whatever I want.”

None of the three noticed the quiet figure behind them pulling back into the shadows beneath James’s Invisibility Cloak.

——————-

The Gryffindor common room glowed with warm orange light from the fireplace. James sprawled across a sofa, tossing a tiny Snitch into the air.

“So it’s settled, Moony. You’re spending Christmas at mine.”

Remus Lupin looked up from his book.

“Sure. If your parents don’t mind.”

“They love you,” James grinned, then elbowed the boy sitting beside him.

“Padfoot. Same plan as always, yeah?”

Sirius, who had been staring into the fire, blinked hard, like someone snapped him out of a trance.

“Huh?”

“Christmas. You’re coming with me?”

“No. I’m staying here.”

James stared.

“…Come again?”

“I’m staying at Hogwarts.”

James looked at him like he’d just confessed to murder.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I’m serious.”

“That’s the problem.” James sat up straight. “Why?”

“I feel like it.”

James squinted with pure suspicion.

“You hate staying at school for the holidays.”

“Well,” Sirius muttered, “I changed my mind.”

James turned to Remus.

“Moony. You hear this?”

“Loud and clear.”

“And you’re not concerned?”

“Deeply.”

James leaned in close to Sirius, eyes narrowing.

“What’s the real reason?”

“There isn’t one.”

“Liar.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

James flicked him on the forehead.

“Don’t tell me someone here is so interesting you’d ditch my family’s Christmas for them.”

The way Sirius’s face went pale, then red, then pale again. James’s grin widened instantly.

“Merlin’s beard,” James whispered. “Don’t tell me it’s—”

Sirius smacked him and jumped to his feet.

“I’m going to sleep.”

James collapsed laughing.

“At least come up with a better excuse, Padfoot! I’m not stupid!”

Sirius stormed out.

He made it halfway to the dormitories before veering off, slipping into a quiet corridor. From his coat he pulled out the Marauder’s Map.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Ink spread across the parchment. Hogwarts appeared in meticulous detail. Sirius scanned the names—

There.

Emilius Ravophine.

In the Slytherin dormitory. Moving around. Sirius sank onto the cold stone step, leaning back against the wall.
He didn’t know what he was looking for…

He just kept staring at that name, as if staring long enough would give him the answer.

—————

Regulus Black stood there for a few seconds, silent in that particular way of his, measured, collected, calculating. Then he stepped closer and said quietly:

“Ravophine.”

Emilius, sprawled across an armchair with all the enthusiasm of a dying cat, lifted his eyes lazily.

“What?”

“You haven’t officially withdrawn from the Quidditch team, captain’s words.”

“And?”

“So I wondered,” Regulus continued evenly, “whether you still intend to play.”

“I never said that.”

“No,” Regulus agreed softly, “but you have not said the opposite either. And you are not the type to leave matters ambiguous without reason.”

Emilius snorted. “Or maybe I was simply too lazy”

“Perhaps,” Regulus said. “Or perhaps you were waiting for someone to ask.”

“No.”

Too fast.

Regulus pulled out a chair and sat opposite him, feet planted, posture perfectly straight.

“I heard,” Regulus began, voice smooth, “about the incident the other day. Five students against you.”

Emilius sighed as if the topic tired him. “Honestly. People keep repeating that story like it’s a legend.”

“Stories spread because they impress people,” Regulus said simply. “And in this case, the impression is justified.”

Emilius shrugged. “It was nothing. Anyone can throw a punch.”

“But not everyone wins,” Regulus replied gently.

That earned him a mildly suspicious glance.

Regulus continued with the same calm tone, as if discussing something as ordinary as tea preferences:

“You fight like someone trained. Muggle disciplines, I presume?”

“Boxing,” Emilius said. “Some other Muggle things where you hit people without magic.”

“I see.” Regulus nodded as though filing away the information with genuine interest. “So physical combat is a sport to you.”

“If you want to call it that.”

“Then,” Regulus said, “Quidditch is equally a sport. One you perform exceptionally well in.”

Emilius didn’t respond.

“You do not strike me,” he said, “as someone who abandons something halfway. When you fight, you commit fully. When you choose a path, you follow it through.”

Emilius raised a brow. “Is that your attempt at persuasion?”

Regulus shook his head lightly. “No. It is merely an observation.”

Another silence.

Emilius turned his gaze to the fireplace, jaw tense.

Regulus waited with the patience of someone who had been raised to understand the value of well-timed silence.

Finally, Emilius murmured:

“I’m not quitting.”

Regulus inclined his head, a refined gesture. “Then may I ask what troubles you?”

Emilius didn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicked to Regulus, and that was a mistake. Something about the Black boy’s face, the quiet sternness, the intensity—

…it was too familiar.

Too much like Sirius. And also nothing like Sirius at all.

Annoying.

He looked away.

“Everything’s complicated right now.”

“Then let me ask a simpler question,” he said quietly. “Do you still want to play?”

Emilius hesitated, just long enough for the truth to slip through.

“…Yes.”

Regulus smiled, politely, like a gentleman acknowledging a point won.

“Then that is all that is required.”
“It’s not that simple.”

Regulus rose gracefully, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “I believe it is precisely that simple. You play because you wish to. Nothing else deserves to dictate your choice.”

He paused, then added with utmost courtesy:

“May I inform the captain that you will attend practice after the holiday?”

Emilius didn’t object. That was answer enough.

Regulus bowed his head slightly before leaving

“Very well.”

Emilius stayed where he was, eyes on the fire.

Was it really that easily?

————————

Hogwarts during the winter holidays was quiet in a way that felt almost unnatural.

The stone corridors, usually filled with noise and footsteps, had turned cold and hollow, carrying only the faint echoes of wind slipping through the tall window frames. Most students had gone home, leaving the vast castle nearly deserted.

This year, Slytherin had only two students staying behind: Emilius Ravophine and Severus Snape.

But Emilius had no intention of hiding away in the dungeon-like common room. He never liked that cramped, cold place to begin with. Instead, he pulled on a warm cloak, walked through the long, empty hallways, and headed out to the frost-covered grounds behind the castle.

Outside, snow was beginning to settle across the lawn. The scattered footprints left by students who had departed the day before were already swept smooth by the wind, leaving only untouched, glittering white beneath his boots.

He made his way toward the small hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid was one of the rare few people at Hogwarts he could speak to without feeling exhausted. The giant with a wild beard had never cared about his appearance, nor bothered with rumors about him being “part-Veela” or anything else. To Hagrid, Emilius was simply “the kid who drops by sometimes and makes a damn good cup of tea.”

Well… Emilius did make very good tea.

He knocked twice on the door.

There was some shuffling inside before the door swung open, revealing Hagrid with crumbs in his beard and a steaming mug of something strong in his hand.

“Ah, Emilius! Get in, get in!” Hagrid boomed, pulling him inside. “What’re yeh doin’ wanderin’ around in this cold, eh?”

Emilius shrugged off his cloak and hung it by the door. “Got bored.”

Hagrid laughed, shutting the door behind him and waving toward the table. “Made some ginger biscuits! Try one!”
Emilius glanced at the large wooden table. A plate of gingerbread sat on top, smelling wonderful, looking sturdy enough to break a window.

He sat down, picked one up, waved it teasingly in front of Fang. the enormous boarhound and tossed it away.

Fang bounded after it, chomping enthusiastically with the crunch of someone chewing a rock.

Emilius clicked his tongue. “Amazing.”

“You bake these to scare off burglars, right?”

Hagrid laughed so hard the tea sloshed out of his mug.

“Hey now, don’ be rude! My biscuits are great!”

Emilius raised a brow and took a bite. As expected, nearly weapon-grade… but the flavor was decent enough.
Hagrid poured him a cup of hot tea and sat across from him, gaze warm as always.

“Not goin’ home this year, are yeh?”

Emilius wrapped both hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into fingers chilled by the snow outside.

“I wanted some time to think,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the surface of his tea as though seeing something far beyond it. “It’s been a chaotic year as it is. Staying at Hogwarts might be easier.”

“Aye. Sometimes bein’ on yer own does a person good.”

They sat together as the conversation gradually drifted toward Hagrid’s favorite subject—

the magical creatures of the Forbidden Forest.

“Just last week I found a newborn thestral, tiny little thing, pitch-black coat, legs long as reeds,” Hagrid said excitedly, waving his hands as though describing the most magnificent creature in the world. “I know its mum well enough, but this one can’t be more than a few months old. Weak as anything. I’ve been sneakin’ extra raw meat to it.”

Emilius smiled. “Those thestrals must be pretty fond of you by now, huh?”

“’Course they are!” Hagrid boomed. “If I don’t bring their food on time, they’ll follow me right up to the doorstep!”
He launched into another round of animated stories, about the strange beasts he cared for, about some rare items he’d recently bought off a traveling merchant in Hogsmeade: a massive iron cage of unknown former occupant, an intact aquamarine-colored dragon scale, and a tiny pouch of powdered unicorn horn that he insisted was “an absolute bargain.”

Emilius listened, nodding every now and then, but his thoughts had quietly wandered elsewhere—
to Christmas presents.

For Hayden, he’d bought a Magical Beast Binoculars., a peculiar magical device he’d stumbled upon in a small shop in Hogsmeade. Looking through its lens would reveal any creature in the form of the mythical beast it most resembled. He’d tested it on a stray cat in the courtyard, through the monocular, the cat had appeared as a young cougar. The thought of Hayden sprinting around the castle, pointing the thing at every animal he could find, made Emilius smile.

For Pegasus, he had chosen a Dream-Charm Pendant, a delicate talisman capable of storing dreams and replaying them as illusions in the air. For someone who delighted in dissecting bizarre theories and oddities, Pegasus would absolutely lose his mind over it.

And for Hagrid…

Emilius cast a brief glance at the giant man, who was now enthusiastically describing a rare Toad-Horse he’d spotted on some shady market stall. Getting Hagrid’s present had taken quite some effort: a fossilized dragon egg, rare and beautifully preserved, something his father had brought back from America. Hagrid would probably cry from joy when he saw it.

“—Emilius, yeh alright there?”

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Hagrid, whose face was full of curiosity.

Clearing his throat, he lifted his teacup and took a slow sip, hiding the faint smile at the corner of his lips.

“It’s nothing. Please, go on.”

—————————

By the time Emilius left Hagrid’s hut, night had fully fallen. Snow lay thick across the ground, each step sinking slightly, leaving crisp impressions on the pristine white surface. His breath formed soft clouds in the icy air.

Hogwarts loomed ahead, its tall windows glowing warmly against the dark sky. Emilius pulled his cloak tighter, lazily sliding his hands into its pockets, and strolled up the stone steps.

A subtle movement in the shadows made him pause.
Near the base of a tree by the entrance, a dark figure sat quietly.

Emilius didn’t seem surprised.

“Black, you following me?”

The massive black dog lifted its head. In the moonlight, its eyes glimmered strangely. It stood, shook the snow from its fur, and calmly padded toward him.

Emilius crouched slightly, stroking its head. “Cold?”

The dog shook itself again, giving no sign of discomfort.
“Hungry?”

This time, it wagged its tail lightly.

“Knew it.”

Emilius straightened, glanced around the quiet grounds, and waved at the dog.

“Let’s go.”

The dog fell in step behind him, silent and obedient.
Since their first year, Emilius, Pegasus, and Hayden had long memorized the secret passage to the kitchens. When they reached the portrait adorned with a basket of fresh fruit, Emilius reached out to scratch a pear. It shivered slightly, then burst into a tinkling laugh, transforming into a doorknob.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Warmth and light enveloped him, a stark contrast to the cold, empty corridors outside. A few house-elves were still tidying up after dinner, but upon seeing Emilius, they chattered excitedly and hurried over.

“Master Ravophine! Visiting the kitchens so late, do you wish for something to eat?”

“Good evening. I hope I’m not disturbing you at this hour.”

Emilius spoke politely. To him, the house-elves were not mere servants, they were individuals deserving respect. This was why every house-elf at Hogwarts adored him.

“Oh no, Master Ravophine! Your visit is a delight. How may we assist you?”

Emilius seated himself on one of the tall chairs by the table.

“Hmm, a little snack, please. And some meat for him as well.”

A tiny house-elf with large, bat-like ears scurried off to prepare food, while the others remained gathered around Emilius, their eyes shining with eagerness.

“What would Master Ravophine like? Some honey pastries? Or perhaps a bit of warm pumpkin soup?”

“Surprise me.”

He glanced sideways at the black dog sitting quietly beside his chair.

The elves nodded enthusiastically and rushed into motion. In just a few minutes, a full tray of steaming dishes appeared: a plate of fragrant pastries, a bowl of soup still swirling with heat, and a separate portion of tender meat prepared especially for Black.

Emilius picked up a pastry and took a bite. Exactly as expected, the crust crisp, the filling rich and sweet, the taste of warm honey blooming across his tongue.

He nodded in approval. “As perfect as always.”

The elves practically vibrated with joy, their ears quivering.

He casually tossed a piece of meat to the floor. “Here, Black.”

The dog snapped it up immediately, chewing with obvious satisfaction.

Emilius rested his chin on his hand, watching. He still had no idea why this dog kept following him, but one thing was certain, it was far more intelligent than any ordinary dog.

It felt like it understood every word he said.

Always quietly tracking him with those bright, vigilant eyes, as if studying every expression, every movement.

But whatever. Let it be.

Once he’d eaten his fill, Emilius rose to his feet, stretched, and said to the elves:

“The food was excellent. Thank you.”

“Master Ravophine is too kind!” one elf chirped, bowing deeply. “Please visit us again anytime! We are always happy to serve!”

He stepped out of the kitchen. Only minutes before, he’d been wrapped in warmth, glowing firelight, the smell of pastries, hot tea, yet the moment he entered the corridor, the cold clamped onto him like a fist. Emilius pulled his cloak tighter, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and made his way down the empty hall.

Behind him, from beginning to end, black shadow padded silently after him.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to go?”

Emilius looked down at the large black dog still trailing at his heels.

“I don’t know who you are,” he muttered, “but you’re definitely not a stray.” He crouched and brushed a hand over the thick fur. “Someone takes very good care of you.”

The dog didn’t react, just watched him, quietly, like a living shadow.

He sighed.

In weather like this, leaving it outside would be cruel. And the Slytherin dorms were practically empty anyway, just him and Snape, and Snape hardly ever left whatever corner he’d buried himself in.

“Fine. Come on.” He pushed open the entrance to the Slytherin common room, stepping aside to let the dog pass.

The dog remained still.

“What now? Want to freeze out here?”

The dog stared at him for a moment before finally stepping inside.

The door closed softly behind them.

Inside, the warmth was a stark contrast to the icy corridors outside. A few embers still glowed in the fireplace, casting flickering light across the leather armchairs scattered around the room. In the corner, a lone figure huddled over a thick book, as usual, none other than Severus Snape.

Emilius patted the dog on the head.

“Welcome to Slytherin, Black.”

Snape jerked his head up, eyes widening in alarm at the sight of the enormous black dog standing by Emilius. The book in his hands nearly slipped to the floor.

“Why on earth did you bring that thing in here?” Snape scowled, clutching his robes as if the dog might leap at him. “Hogwarts does not allow animals outside of the approved list.”

Emilius shrugged lazily, strolling toward an armchair, the dog following silently at his heels.

“A dog isn’t a prohibited creature,” he replied casually.

“Cats, yes. Toads, yes. Owls, yes. But dogs? Nobody said a word.”

Snape stared at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“Because who in their right mind would sneak a dog in here?”

Emilius smirked, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Well, apparently someone did.”

Snape’s glare could have melted steel. “Where did this dog even come from? Did you find it lurking somewhere?”

Emilius leaned back in the armchair, perfectly at ease. “The Forbidden Forest.”

Snape nearly leapt from his seat. “The Forbidden Forest?! Are you insane? Do you even know what’s in there?”

“Well, there’s this one.”

Snape ground his teeth. “Don’t tell me you intend to keep it.”

Emilius glanced down at the dog, then shrugged.

“It followed me here. Snow falling this thick at night, leaving it outside would be cruel.”

Snape looked ready to explode. “I can’t believe you. Don’t drag these absurd stunts into the Slytherin common room. I do not want some giant wild animal wandering around in here.”

But Emilius ignored him, lazily gesturing the dog closer.
“Come on, Black.”

To Snape’s horror, the dog obediently padded over and curled up at Emilius’s feet as if it had done this a thousand times before.

“Black, huh?” Snape drawled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “At least the name fits.”

“Why’s that?”

Snape snapped his book shut, eyes glancing over the dog with undisguised disdain. “Because it’s just as troublesome, obnoxious, and foul as the Black I happen to know.”

The dog suddenly bared its teeth, a low growl rumbling in its throat. Its ears perked sharply, eyes glowing gold in the firelight, fixed on Snape as though ready to pounce at any second.

Snape recoiled a step, wand clutched reflexively.
“See?” he hissed, eyes never leaving the dog. “It’s dangerous!”

Emilius smirked, reaching down to pat the dog’s head soothingly.

“It just doesn’t like you.”

“It doesn’t like me?” Snape looked at him as if hearing the most absurd tale imaginable.

The dog growled softly, clearly amused by Snape’s retreat.

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously, then he turned to Emilius with a face that could only be described as pure irritation.

“Best keep it away from me,” he spat bitterly before disappearing down the hallway toward the dormitories.
The door slammed shut behind him.

Emilius glanced at the dog, who now looked thoroughly pleased with itself.

He chuckled, running a hand through the sleek black fur.
“Hate Snape, huh? You definitely look like some idiot I know.”

The dog didn’t respond, only wagged its tail once and curled back up at his feet.

Chapter Text

The fire crackled softly in the Slytherin common room, its warm glow flickering across the stone walls.

In the corner, Sirius Black, currently trapped in the large, pitch-black body of a dog, quietly witnessing something he was absolutely not prepared for.

Emilius Ravophine slept… terribly.
At first, he looked normal enough, lay on his back, one arm tucked lazily behind his head, looking every bit the serene young aristocrat carved from marble.

But ten minutes later, everything began to fall apart.

He rolled over and hooked a leg around his pillow. Then he flipped to the other side and clutched the blanket as if fighting an invisible monster.

Five minutes later, the blanket was on the floor.

Another ten minutes, and somehow he had rotated himself completely, head at the foot of the bed, legs propped on the pillows.

Eventually, he slid halfway off, upper body hanging over the edge, hair spilling toward the floor in complete chaos.

Sirius watched, faintly alarmed.

He wasn’t sure if he should help, or just let gravity finish the job.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

Emilius slept shirtless.

And unfortunately for Sirius’s sanity, he looked unfairly good even while nearly falling off the bed.

Pale, smooth skin; a well-defined chest; a slim waist; toned lines of muscle visible under the flickering firelight.

Sirius knew he shouldn’t be staring.

His eyes refused to cooperate.

What is wrong with me… he groaned internally, covering his face with a paw.

He needed to sleep.

Right now. No more looking.

But just as he began to drift off—

THUD.

Emilius tumbled straight off the bed and landed beside him.

Sirius froze.

The boy didn’t even wake.

He simply lay there, back bare to the warm firelight, completely unbothered.

Sirius swallowed, questioning every decision he’d ever made.

Then Emilius moved.

He draped a leg over Sirius. And held on. Sirius’s brain stopped working.

Not only was Emilius half on top of him, he was clinging to him like a pillow.

Sirius wanted to escape, but he couldn’t exactly bite or scratch him. It wasn’t like the boy was doing it on purpose… right?

As Sirius debated whether to risk wriggling free, the leg resting on him twitched. Emilius stirred, shivering from the cold floor, and slowly opened his eyes.

Sirius went completely still.

In the dim glow, Emilius blinked, unfocused, stare landing on the huge black dog beside him.

He stared. For a long moment.

Then, without a word, he dropped his leg, pushed himself up, climbed back into bed, and wrapped himself in the blanket again.

Sirius lay motionless.

“…”

————-

When Emilius woke, the black dog was gone.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretched lazily, and wandered out into the Slytherin common room. Morning seeped through the green-tinged windows; the fire still crackled quietly, warm and comforting. On the long table in the center, a small mountain of Christmas presents waited.

Two of them were blinding, one violently yellow, the other an eye-searing neon green.

…He didn’t even need to check the tags.

Next to those sat a small parcel wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with Hagrid’s unmistakable handiwork. And finally, the largest gift, wrapped neatly with tasteful ribbon, the one from his parents.

He was just about to examine them when a horrified scream tore through the room.

“RAVOPHINE! WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?!”

Emilius blinked, turning slowly.

Snape stood in the doorway, frozen mid-step, eyes bulging as if Emilius had personally offended the entirety of Hogwarts.

…Right. Snape had stayed over the holidays.

Emilius glanced down. Yes, he was shirtless.

And?

“Merry Christmas, Snape.” He grabbed a present, inspecting it casually. “Do you happen to know where the black dog went?”

Snape looked like his soul had left his body.
“I—NO! Put on a shirt right now!! Are you a pervert?!”

Emilius paused.

Him? A pervert?

He set the gift down and turned, hands settling on his hips.

“Hold on. Who’s the one staring at someone first thing in the morning and shrieking?”

Snape’s eye twitched. Hard.

“YOU ARE HALF-NAKED IN THE COMMON ROOM!”

“I’m wearing trousers,” Emilius said, deadpan. “That’s plenty.”

Snape’s expression suggested he was reconsidering his life choices.

“PUT. A. SHIRT. ON . NOW!”

Emilius sighed, raising his hands in surrender.
“Alright, alright. No need to have a heart attack. I’ll change.”

Snape continued glaring daggers at him as he walked away, clearly traumatized. A few minutes later, now clothed, Emilius returned to the gifts and picked up the first one.

The garish one was from Hayden. Inside was a stack of Muggle novels. Exactly the titles he’d mentioned ages ago. Hayden and his annoyingly sharp memory for gifts.

He set them aside and reached for the second neon package, Pegasus’s, obviously.

Inside was a pocket watch, except the second hand spun like it had gone mad, and the face changed words whenever he touched it.

He tapped it lightly.

New text blinked into existence:

“Something amusing will happen in ten minutes.”

Emilius squinted.

Typical Pegasus

He pocketed the watch and opened the brown-wrapped gift from Hagrid. Inside was a small vial of shimmering powder, smelling faintly of wild herbs.

Hagrid’s note read:

“Moonlit butterfly dust. Rare. Glows a bit at night. Good for potions or luring shy creatures. Don’t get it in your eyes!”

Emilius chuckled softly. Hagrid always had something strange up his sleeve.

Finally, he opened the largest package from his parents. He froze.

A Muggle guitar.

Not decorative, an actual, finely crafted instrument.
He ran a hand along its polished surface; the wood felt smooth, warm, alive. He lifted it gently and plucked a single string. A clear, resonant note filled the room.

“…Perfect.”

—————

Emilius was still half-asleep when he stepped into the Great Hall.

Christmas morning made everything feel warmer than usual. Even though most students had gone home, the tables were still laid out with roasted turkey, pudding, hot chocolate, and more food than anyone staying behind could possibly finish.

He headed toward the Slytherin table, but his eyes drifted, almost on instinct toward Gryffindor.

And that was when he saw Sirius Black.

The boy was in the middle of the Gryffindors who’d stayed over the holidays, talking loudly with a smug grin, one hand waving animatedly, the other wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. Typical.

Then, mid-sentence, Sirius’s gaze slid across the hall. And collided with Emilius.

He froze.

His friends kept laughing, but Sirius went utterly still, eyes wide, mouth hanging open as if he’d forgotten the concept of words entirely.

Then his face went red.

Bright red.

All the way to the tips of his ears.

Like someone had just resurfaced a deeply embarrassing memory he desperately wanted to forget.

What’s wrong with him now? It’s barely morning.

Emilius sat down at the Slytherin table, picked up a cup of hot chocolate, and calmly ignored the fact that Sirius Black appeared to be spontaneously combusting across the hall.

His hand brushed his pocket.

The pocket watch.

“Something amusing will happen in ten minutes.”

He glanced around the Great Hall.

Nothing.

Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaw, those who remained, were quietly enjoying breakfast.

The Slytherin table was nearly empty, save for him and a half-eaten pastry.

Nothing unusual.

“AAAAAAA!!!”

A scream tore through the hall.

Everything went silent.

Emilius blinked and looked up. Sirius Black had leapt out of his seat, knocking over his hot chocolate. He staggered back like he’d been electrocuted, face flaming.
The Gryffindors around him stared in bewilderment.
Sirius grabbed a silver spoon off the table, held it up like a mirror—

And his jaw dropped.

Two enormous white bunny ears were sticking straight up from the top of his head.

The hall held its breath for three seconds.

Then—

SPUUUT—!

A Gryffindor choked and sprayed milk everywhere.

Another started howling with laughter.

Someone else slid off their bench and onto the floor.
A few were pounding the table like they’d lost all control of their limbs.

“WHAT—WHAT THE HELL—?!”

Emilius calmly lowered his gaze and checked the watch.
The message had changed:

“You’re welcome.”

He flicked the watch lightly and chuckled.

Nice one, Pony.

“Black! Black, what is that on your head?!” a Gryffindor gasped between fits of laughter.

“I’m NOT wearing ANYTHING!” Sirius yelled, wildly swiping at the ears. But they didn’t budge.

They stayed upright, stubbornly perky, as if glued to his skull by sheer humiliation.

The laughter around him only grew louder. Sirius swept the hall with a glare, chest heaving, somewhere between mortified and furious.

Who did this?!

Then his eyes landed on Emilius, the picture of innocence at the Slytherin table.

Ra.Vo.Phine.

—————

Sirius chased Emilius out of the Great Hall, stomped after him for a good stretch of hallway, and then grabbed him by the collar, yanking him back.

“Ravophine!”

Only then did Emilius bother to stop and turn around, looking over his shoulder with the laziest expression imaginable.

“Hm?”

Sirius sucked in a long breath and jabbed a finger upward at the two enormous white bunny ears standing proudly on top of his head.

“You had something to do with this didn’t you?!”

Emilius stared at him for a moment. Then he tilted his head, those annoyingly bright green eyes gleaming with mocking.

“Me?” he echoed innocently. “You think I’m that bored?”

“Who else could it possibly be?!”

Emilius didn’t answer. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket watch, Pegasus’s Christmas gift. He flicked his finger lightly across the face of it, and the text shifted instantly:

“Who else could it be?”

Sirius read the sign beneath. A vein popped on his forehead.

“PONY?!”

Emilius shrugged.

“Suit you.”

“My arse!” Sirius snapped.

He ran a hand through his hair on instinct, only to feel the traitorous bunny ears still standing upright, perfectly perky, refusing to budge.

Sirius inhaled sharply, visibly restraining the urge to explode.

“Tell him to take them off.”

Emilius casually flipped the watch open again. New text glowed across the surface:

“Pull the ears three times, say ‘I’m a silly little bunny,’ and they’ll disappear.”

Sirius stared at the sentence.

One second.

Two seconds.

His face darkened like a thundercloud.

“Absolutely not.”

Emilius’s lips curled into the slightest smirk.

“Then enjoy living with them.”

Sirius actually shook with anger, fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. But there was nothing he could do.

Emilius just shrugged, tucked the watch back into his pocket, and walked away without even sparing him another glance.

Sirius felt like his lungs were about to combust. And for some infuriating reason, his heart was pounding like mad watching Emilius leave.

————-

Sirius stormed back into the Gryffindor dormitory, slammed the door shut behind him, and let out a long, exhausted groan.

He turned to the mirror on the wall. The white bunny ears were still there.

Standing tall. Mocking him.

“Merlin…” Sirius muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face before reluctantly reaching up, pulling the ears three times, and mumbling the cursed phrase.

The ears vanished instantly.

He dropped onto his bed, one arm thrown over his face. How in the world had he managed to humiliate himself like that in front of Emilius of all people?

Frustrated, he grabbed the enchanted mirror, tapped it once, and James Potter’s face came into view. James was in pajamas, hair even more of a disaster than usual, yawning like he’d barely escaped death. Behind him, Remus Lupin was quietly eating a bar of chocolate, fully dressed and looking very awake.

“Oh! Merry Christmas, Padfoot!” James mumbled. “You look like someone stepped on your head.”

“Not far from the truth,” Sirius muttered.

Remus raised a brow.

“What happened?”

“I just lived through one of the most humiliating mornings of my life.”

James burst out laughing.

“That’s a first—who on earth could embarrass the great Sirius Black?”

Sirius went quiet for a moment, then muttered under his breath,

“…Ravophine.”

Both James and Remus froze. They stared at him.
“…Sorry, what?” James asked, instantly intrigued.

“I just… accidentally spent the night in his room.”

“YOU SLEPT IN RAVOPHINE’S ROOM?!”

James’s shout was so loud Sirius nearly dropped the mirror.

Remus choked on his chocolate, coughing violently. He set the bar aside, staring at Sirius like he’d just confessed to murder.

James was practically vibrating.

“Wait—wait—hang on—let me get this straight. You, Sirius Black—ladies’ man, untameable troublemaker, heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black—spent the entire night in Emilius Ravophine’s room?”

“I didn’t spend the night in his bed!” Sirius barked. “I slept on the floor, all right?!”

James smirked. “Ahh, so you could’ve slept in his bed, but you chickened out?”

“JAMES!”

Remus rubbed his forehead, still trying to process. “What happened? Why were you even in his room? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other.”

Sirius crossed his arms, face burning.

“I—I was in dog form, he let me in, I fell asleep—OKAY?! What’s the big deal?!”

James collapsed backward onto his bed, laughing so hard he kicked his pillows.

“I can’t believe this!”

Remus leaned forward. “And what did he do this morning? How did he react?”

Sirius instantly shut down.

James sensed drama like a shark senses blood.

“Oh? Don’t tell me he found you out?”

“…Not found out, exactly…” Sirius muttered. “But he saw me with the bunny ears.”

Silence.

Then James exploded into hysterics.

“THANK MERLIN I WASN’T THERE— I WOULD HAVE DIED—ABSOLUTELY DIED—FROM LAUGHING!”

Remus shook his head, but even he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching.

“Hold on. So Emilius saw you. With the bunny ears.”
Sirius buried his face into his pillow and groaned.

“Yes…”

James was crying at this point, wiping tears.

“Merlin help me, I can’t breathe…”

Remus looked at Sirius with genuine pity.

“That hurts.”

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!”

James rolled around, gasping.

“No, I refuse, this is peak comedy! Do you know how Hogwarts would react if they found out Sirius Black was taken down by Emilius Ravophine?”

“IT WAS PONY! PONY DID IT!”

Sirius hurled a pillow at the mirror.

“Say another word and I’m smashing this thing!”

“But Padfoot…” Remus said calmly.

Sirius looked up. Remus’s expression was serious.

“…Do you like Ravophine?”

Sirius froze.

James stopped laughing mid-wheeze, turning toward him.

Sirius pressed his lips together. He could deny it. He could scoff at the question. He could laugh it off. But he didn’t.

“You like him,” James said. “It’s obvious. Honestly, this is the first time I’ve seen you stay interested in someone this long. Even when people threw themselves at you, you never cared.”

Sirius clenched the bedsheets.

“Ravophine… is different.”

Remus nodded. “Then what’s your plan?”

“My what?”

“Your plan.”

Remus crossed his arms. “Ravophine has admirers. Plenty of them. If you keep acting like an idiot, he’ll never take you seriously.”

James added, “Yeah, mess around like usual and he’s already hate your guts.”

Sirius bit the inside of his cheek.

“You need to be serious, Sirius. If you like him, then go after him properly.”

Sirius stared at Remus like Remus had personally betrayed him.

James snorted. “I swear, I never thought I’d live to see Sirius Black cornered like this.”

Sirius dragged a hand through his hair.

“Bloody hell…”

“You’re doomed, Padfoot,” James said cheerfully.

“Absolutely doomed.”

Chapter Text

Emilius lounged on his bed, dangling a leg over the side as he held up his double-side mirror.

The surface rippled, then cleared to reveal Pegasus Grey first, curled up in an armchair with a glittering Christmas tree behind him and the distant sound of children laughing. Hayden appeared next, though only from the eyes up, clearly still hiding under his blanket, half-asleep.

“Hey,” Emilius drawled.

Pegasus squinted at him. “What’s with your face? You look stupid.”

“I’m bored,” Emilius sighed, propping his chin on his hand. “Hogwarts is dead these days.”

“Well, duh,” Hayden mumbled from inside his blanket cocoon. “We left you there so *we* could enjoy the holidays.”

“Thanks, Hayden.”

“You’re welcome.”

Pegasus snickered. “Why don’t you go to Hogsmeade? Maybe you’ll find something fun.”

“Already did,” Emilius groaned. “Everything’s closed.”

“Well, then…”

Three seconds later, both Pegasus and Hayden stared at him like they’d just realized something terrible.

“You’re not planning to sneak out of the castle, are you?”

Emilius didn’t answer. Just shrugged.

“You little—” Hayden started, then gave up. “—actually, never mind. I’m not even surprised.”

Pegasus burst out laughing. “Fine, but do something interesting, okay? Tell us everything later.”

“Sure.”

Emilius cut the connection, then stood and stretched. Cloak, check. Wand, check. Biscuits, check. Perfect.

Time to sneak out.

—————-

Emilius pulled his collar higher and trudged across the wide valley. The wind howled through the bare trees, kicking up thin swirls of snow into the air. Everything was blanketed in white, and his footprints were the only marks on the soft surface.

In the distance, a rocky hill rose like a natural wall. Jagged edges, snow-covered boulders, and spots worn down by time and winter winds.

“Doesn’t look too hard to climb.”

He pressed his gloved hand against the icy stone, the cold seeping straight through the fabric. The surface was slick with frost, but he was strong enough to climb steadily, pulling himself up ledge by ledge.

The wind was fiercer up high, slicing through the air with a cruel chill. But the view was more than worth it.

From the top, he could see all of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade spread before him. The majestic castle with its soaring towers, the tiny village coated in snow, rooftops glittering under the pale winter sun. Beyond them lay sprawling forests, a dark stretch of the Black Lake, and even distant mountain ranges brushing the horizon.

“Beautiful.”

Emilius sat down on a large boulder, hands propping him up as he stared out, eyes half-lidded with boredom.
If he were home right now, he’d be wrapped in blankets, not freezing his limbs off out here.

But… what would he even do back in the dorm? He’d already finished all three books Hayden gave him. Most students were gone until after New Year’s, meaning he still had six whole days before Pony and Hayden returned.

He sighed, gaze drifting lazily downward …and blinked.
Something faint sparkled from beneath the snow. Emilius frowned, leaned forward, and brushed the snow aside.
A weathered stone slab emerged, its surface chipped and worn by nature. Yet strange runes remained etched clearly across it.

“To those who seek what lies beneath…”
He narrowed his eyes, placing his hand on the stone.

Cold. And oddly… it vibrated beneath his touch.
What lies beneath?

Hogwarts certainly had no shortage of mysteries, but a random stone tablet abandoned on a hilltop like this what weirdly exciting.

Emilius stood, scanning the area. Only snow, rocks, and a few dry bushes. No doorway, no passage.

He tapped the slab lightly.

Tok, tok.

The echo was deeper and hollower than expected.
He muttered under his breath, aimed his wand:

“Revelio.”

Nothing.

“Alohomora.”

Still nothing.

Emilius groaned.

“Showing off, huh?”

He crouched again, resting his fingers on the inscription, this time focusing on the word beneath.

Crack.

A faint sound broke the stillness.

He jerked back instantly. The stone trembled. Fine shards of snow slipped into the fresh fractures spreading across it.

Then the ground beneath his feet gave way. He tried to jump back, but too late. The snow collapsed entirely, dragging him down into the darkness below.

But in the same instant, a shadow lunged after him.

“Woof!”

He barely registered a blur of black fur streaking past him at terrifying speed.

“Arresto Momentum!”

A soft glow wrapped around him, slowing his fall until he drifted to the ground with only a light thud. Before he could even process it

WHUMP!

A massive ball of black fur crashed directly onto him.

That one hurt.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me,” Emilius groaned, shoving the thing off.

It rolled aside, now covered in dust and dirt.

Emilius blinked at it, then glared.

“Black!! What the hell are you doing following me?!”
The dog shook itself vigorously, snow and dust flying everywhere. Then it stood up perfectly fine, as if it hadn’t just plummeted several meters.

It looked up at him. Wagged its tail.

Emilius: “…”

Emilius sighed and looked around. The place was larger than he expected. Towering stone walls disappeared into darkness, with only faint beams of light leaking through cracks in the ceiling. The air smelled damp and stale, and the floor was icy cold beneath his palms.

It looked like he had stumbled into somewhere no one had visited in a very, very long time.

In the corner, a chipped, moss-covered stone stele leaned against the wall. Its surface was worn down by age, but a single line was still readable:

“Descend, and seek the echoes of the past.”

Emilius narrowed his eyes. Something about this felt very wrong.

The black dog got up as well, padding after him silently, its steps making almost no sound.

Under the dim light from above, Emilius placed his hand against the stone slab. The rock was freezing, but nothing happened.

He frowned and took a step back, scanning the chamber.

No door.

No passage.

But if the inscription was real, then…

Emilius looked up at the ceiling, then down at his feet.
The ground was uneven and littered with debris, but beneath the cracks, he could make out thin gaps, faint lines like the edges of a hidden hatch.

“Downwards, huh?” he muttered.

The dog sat beside him, its tail sweeping across the dusty floor. It glanced at him, then down at the ground as well.

“…What if there’s a trap?”

The dog looked him dead in the eyes, and casually placed one paw on the floor.

CRACK

The stone gave way. And the entire platform collapsed.
Emilius dropped like a stone, with no time to cast anything.

“BLACK, YOU—SON OF—!!”

The dog fell with him, but unlike the panicking human, it twisted gracefully midair and

WHUMP!

—crashed directly onto Emilius for the second time today.
He hit the ground face-first.

“…I’m going to kill you,” he groaned, shoving the giant furball off him.

The dog rolled once, got up, shook off dust, and looked perfectly pleased with itself. Its tail even wagged.

“You definitely cracked at least three of my ribs,” Emilius muttered, pushing himself upright.

Weak light filtered down from above, illuminating a long, stone corridor stretching endlessly into darkness. Moss crept across the walls, and the damp air carried an earthy, rotting smell.

He shot the dog a look.

“You really love sticking your nose into trouble, huh?”

The dog stared back with the most innocent eyes he’d ever seen.

Emilius snorted softly and brushed the dust off his clothes.

“Whatever. There’s only one way to go now.”
He stepped toward the shadowy corridor, raising his wand.

“Lumos.”

Soft light spread outward, revealing the walls on both sides.

The dog’s ears twitched at the brightness, but it followed quietly. Their shadows stretched long across the stone floor as they ventured deeper into the unknown.

The walls grew wetter and greener, coated with moss and strange vines. The earthy smell thickened, mixed now with another scent, putrid, decaying, unsettling.
Emilius frowned and lifted his wand higher.

The light illuminated something grotesque: the vines weren’t normal. They were thin and sinewy, twisting along the stone like veins. Every so often, one would twitch faintly as if sensing their presence.

“…These aren’t plants.”

The dog froze, growling low, its eyes glowing in the dim light. Emilius felt his skin crawl.

Sssk.

One vine jerked violently, snapping across the wall like a striking snake.

Emilius ducked instinctively, but another vine shot out from the opposite wall, wrapping around his ankle.

“What the—?! Diffindo!”

A sharp arc of magic sliced through the vine. It fell limp onto the ground.

But didn’t die.

The severed piece writhed, then sprouted new tendrils, crawling toward him again. Emilius backed up quickly, gripping his wand tighter.

“You’ve got to be kidding me—!”

GROWL!!

The black dog lunged forward and sank its teeth into the vine.

But the moment its teeth sank in, the vine recoiled violently, as if activating some kind of defense instinct. Within seconds, every vine around them began to writhe. Long tendrils hanging from the ceiling started lowering toward them like hungry, reaching limbs.

Emilius grit his teeth and swung his wand again and again.

“Incendio!”

A burst of fire roared to life, scorching the vines. They shrieked with a revolting skittering sound, twitching madly before retreating back into the darkness. The black dog backed up beside him, growling, ears flat and body tense.

After a moment, the corridor fell silent once more.
Emilius let out a shaky breath and rubbed his ankle, he had nearly been dragged away. He jerked his chin toward the space ahead.

“Still going, Black?”

The dog shook out its fur and stepped forward without hesitation.

Emilius smirked.

“Good. I wasn’t planning on turning back anyway.”

And honestly, stopping now wasn’t an option, not if he ever wanted to find a way out.

He raised his wand again. The light stretched forward, spilling into the dark, and suddenly revealed a massive wall of spiderweb, along with dozens of gleaming eyes opening in unison.

“…Merlin’s bloody beard.”

Before him was an enormous tangle of webbing, thick layers woven together into a suffocating trap. And nestled among the snowy strands—

Dozens of giant spiders opened their eyes.

Black, glassy, predatory eyes glinted back at him from the darkness. Long, spindly legs twitched; sharp limbs dug into the stone walls, anchoring themselves like they were preparing to pounce.

The black dog growled, fur bristling, gaze locked on the nightmarish creatures.

Emilius tightened his grip on his wand.

Aracnids.

They weren’t Acromantulas, slightly smaller, about the size of a grown man, but the markings on their backs were different. Strange. Unrecorded. Wrong.

He’d never seen this species in any book.

But one thing was certain:

They weren’t planning on letting him walk out of here.

SWISH

One of the spiders lunged from above with impossible speed!

“Protego!”

His shield burst outward just in time, deflecting it but three more dropped down immediately afterward.

“Bloody hell!”

Emilius rolled aside, barely avoiding a snapping jaw. He swung his wand sharply.

“Depulso!”

One spider slammed into the stone wall with a sickening squeal.

No time to celebrate.

The dog had already hurled itself into the fray, jaws clamping onto a spider’s abdomen. With a violent shake, it dragged the creature across the floor!

Claws scraped, fangs dug deep. The spider screeched, thrashing wildly, trying to kick the dog off, but the dog refused to let go.

Sssk! Sssk! SSSSK!

Threads of web shot from the spiders’ mouths, wrapping around Emilius’s arms and legs!

He snarled through his teeth, whipping his wand around.

“Incendio!”

Flames erupted again. The webbing ignited instantly, curling and blackening. One unfortunate spider caught fire, writhing and hissing before collapsing.

The rest recoiled, chittering in alarm, skittering backward.

Emilius seized the moment. He grabbed the dog by the scruff and yanked.

“Run!”

Two figures—one tall and frantic, one four-legged and furious—bolted toward the far exit.

But the spiders weren’t done with them.

High-pitched screeches echoed through the chamber, dozens of needle-sharp legs clattering against stone as a swarm of giant spiders surged after them.

Emilius didn’t dare look back.

He focused solely on running, though the horrifying chittering behind him told him everything he needed to know:

The spiders were gaining.

Something huge moved.

THUD!

The ground trembled. Emilius froze. Something had just dropped down right in front of them. And from the darkness, a massive silhouette stepped out.

The Spider Matriarch.

THUD!

A pair of colossal spider legs slammed down in front of Emilius, stabbing deep into the stone floor and leaving cracks that spread like a shattered mirror.

The faint light in the tunnel reflected off its glossy black carapace, a pitch-black surface with no pattern like the smaller spiders.

But the most terrifying part—

Its eyes.

Not eight glassy Acromantula eyes. Only two, enormous and glowing. Twin pupils burned with a deep, ancient red.Something ancient.

Something that didn’t belong to modern Hogwarts.

Emilius couldn’t even react.

WHOOSH!

The massive leg swung toward him with impossible speed!

“Protego Diabolica!”

A wall of magical fire erupted between him and the bladed limb. But in the blink of an eye

CRASH!!

The spider tore through the flame shield, sweeping forward like a giant scythe. Emilius was flung backwards. He crashed into the stone wall, pain exploding through his spine. His wand flew from his grip, skidding several meters away.

Shit.

He tried to push himself up, but another giant leg smashed into the ground beside him, shaking the entire tunnel.

The Matriarch lowered its towering body, its two blazing eyes boring into him. It was studying its prey.

Then. Its massive jaws opened. A voice came out.Not human.

A deep, ancient, terrifying voice:

“Who dares… trespass here?”

Silver webbing shot toward him!

Emilius dodged, but too late

The strand wrapped around his arm and tightened like a steel cable.

“Bloody—!”

He yanked hard, but the thread clung like glue. The more he struggled, the tighter it constricted.

The Matriarch lifted another leg.

THUD!

It slammed down beside his head, barely missing him. Emilius rolled away, scraping against the cold stone floor.
But he wasn’t free yet. The webbing suddenly yanked him backwards, slamming him onto the ground.

Damn it.

This was bad—too bad.

No wand.

One arm bound by webbing. Dozens of spiders closing in.
Emilius sucked in a breath, forcing himself to think.

He won’t die like an idiot here.

He gritted his teeth and shouted,

“Confringo!”

BOOM!!

An explosion erupted in front of him! Fire flared bright, incinerating the smaller spiders rushing at him. The Matriarch screeched, recoiling from the flames, but quickly lunged forward again.

It charged.This time, Emilius couldn’t dodge.

WHAM!

A huge leg slammed down on him, pinning him against the ground!

“Bloody—!”

The pressure crushed down on his ribs, threatening to snap them. From above, the Matriarch lowered its monstrous fangs, each drop of venom hissing as it fell.
Emilius clenched his jaw.

No.

Not like this.

He had to do something, anything.And just as he braced himself—

BLAST!!

A streak of red shot forward, slamming into the Matriarch’s face!

It shrieked, stumbling back. The leg pinning Emilius jerked away, freeing him from the suffocating weight.
In the same instant, a strong hand seized his wrist

“Get up!!”

Sirius Black.

Emilius barely had time to blink before he was yanked upright, crashing into Sirius’s solid chest. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, gripping him like Sirius feared that if he let go, Emilius would vanish back into the darkness.

Emilius could feel Sirius’s heartbeat through his shirt
Fierce. Rapid.

Faster than his own, even though Emilius was the one who nearly got flattened.

A horrific screech echoed through the cavern. The Matriarch’s eyes flared bright red, burning with rage. Its colossal legs slammed into the floor, sending tremors across the tunnel, while the swarm of smaller spiders poured toward them like a living nightmare.

No time to think.

Sirius shoved Emilius behind him and raised his wand.

“Confringo!”

BOOM!

Flames roared. Several spiders were blasted apart, but countless more surged forward, shrieking as they came.

“Run!” Sirius barked, gripping Emilius’s wrist and dragging him backward. “We can’t fight that thing head-on!”

“You think I don’t KNOW that?!” Emilius yelled back, grabbing his fallen wand and aiming at the Matriarch.

But it leaped.

A massive shadow engulfed their vision, jaws wide

“Depulso!”

A blast of force crashed into the beast, but it wasn’t enough to fully stop it.

“Move!” Sirius yanked Emilius aside, both of them tumbling out of the strike zone.

CRASH!

The Matriarch slammed down on the spot they’d just vacated, splitting the stone floor like it was thin ice.
Sirius pushed himself up, turning sharply toward Emilius.

“Are you hurt?!”

“…I’m fine.”

Sirius grabbed Emilius by the collar and shook him.
“Fine, my arse!” he roared, voice cracking with fury and fear. “You pull a stunt like that again and I’ll beat you to it before the spiders do!”

Emilius froze.

He’d never seen Sirius this angry, this shaken. His breath came fast, eyes dark with panic and something sharp, painful, protective, like he’d nearly lost something he couldn’t bear to lose.

The swarm screeched louder, hundreds of legs clattering against the stone, pouring toward them like a tidal wave of nightmares.

“Move!” Sirius grabbed Emilius’s wrist again and sprinted toward the narrow passage ahead.

They ran at full speed. The tight corridor scraped against their arms, stone digging into their sleeves as they shoved themselves through the gap.

The entire tunnel shook as something gigantic slammed into the wall behind them

The Matriarch was coming.

Behind them, the swarm of spiders was still relentlessly chasing, their legs clattering sharply against the narrow walls.

“They’re catching up!” Emilius shot a quick glance over his shoulder, spotting those glowing red eyes right behind them.

“Don’t look back! Move!” Sirius barked, panting hard but still dragging Emilius at full speed.

The ground suddenly sloped downward. Both of them slipped, losing control

“Bloody hell!” Sirius hissed as his whole body pitched forward down a near-vertical tunnel.

Emilius was swept along immediately after. Both of them plummeted through the darkness, spinning wildly, the cold stone walls rushing past them.

Then, suddenly

THUD!!

They were hurled out into a vast chamber, rolling several times before crashing onto the hard floor.

No spiders. No skittering legs chasing them. Only their ragged breathing echoing through the deep, pitch-black space.

Emilius lay sprawled flat on the cold stone, an arm thrown over his forehead. After running for his life, his entire body felt like jelly.

Beside him, Sirius dropped onto the ground with a groan, one hand braced behind him, the other on his knee as he sucked in air.

It had been a long time since he was this exhausted.
For a while, neither of them moved. Only their labored breaths filled the eerie silence.

Then Emilius turned his head toward Sirius, staring.

“…You were the dog.”

Sirius looked back, smirked. “Yup.”

A heavy, suffocating silence.

Emilius’s gaze drifted downward slowly… then he buried his face in his hands.

“… My life is officially over.”

Sirius: “…”

He just lay there radiating pure, pitiful despair.

“Hey, don’t be dramatic.”

“DRAMATIC?!” Emilius shot upright.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW I FEEL RIGHT NOW?! I LET SIRIUS BLOODY BLACK SLEEP IN MY ROOM WITHOUT KNOWING IT!!!”

Sirius burst out laughing. “Didn’t bother me.”

“IT BOTHERS ME, YOU MANIAC!”

Emilius covered his face again. He felt like his soul had been permanently stained.

Sirius kept laughing, though his gaze softened a little at the miserable lump beside him.

“…I’m an Animagus,” Sirius said, patting his shoulder. His tone turned serious. “Turning into a dog is something I trained. Not a curse.”

Emilius peeked through his fingers, eyes dead.

“…And the deer?”

“James.”

“…And the horse?”

“Pegasus.”

Silence.

Emilius: “…”

Sirius: “…”

“A” Emilius opened his mouth like he was about to scream, but ended up letting out a long, defeated sigh.
“…There’s nothing left in this life worth trusting.”

Sirius grinned. “You can trust me.”

“GET LOST.”

Emilius collapsed backward onto the stone floor again, arms spread miserably.

“…I can’t believe it. Pony is my best friend.” He hissed, voice cracking with indignation. “And he hid this from me? While he nags me every day about telling him everything?!”

Sirius snorted.

“Well, it’s not like he told the whole world. Just me, James, Pony, we’re great at keeping secrets.”

“Yeah, sure you are!” Emilius snapped upright. “If this gets out, I’ll die before graduation!”

Sirius leaned back, hands behind his head, unbothered.
“I didn’t say anything. No one else has to know.”

(Not that James and Remus didn’t already know, of course.)

“…You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying what?”

“Watching me get fooled. Must be hilarious.”

Sirius pretended to think. “Yeah, actually. It is.”

“You—!”

Before Emilius could explode, Sirius suddenly reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

…Right. His whole body still throbbed from earlier when he slammed into the wall.

“…Not sure.” He winced as he tried moving, pain flaring in his back. “A—bloody hell!”

Sirius clicked his tongue and shifted closer. “Let me see.”
Emilius instantly scooted away. “No.”

“No what?”

“You are the LAST person I’m undressing for.”

Sirius blinked… then let out a low chuckle, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“I already saw you sleep shirtless. What’s there to hide?”

Emilius’s face darkened.

“I thought you were the chill type about this stuff,” Sirius teased with a wink.

“…Say one more word and I hex you, Black.”

Emilius groaned but reluctantly pulled his shirt over his head, revealing bruises spreading across his back. Sirius stopped for a moment, expression turning serious as he saw the damage.

No more jokes. He took a small jar of ointment from his pocket, twisted the lid off. The faint scent of herbs wafted through the cold air. Merlin knows why Sirius Black randomly carried ointment around.

“I’m not great at this, but let’s try.” He scooped some onto his fingers and gently applied it to the bruises.
The cool sensation spread instantly. Emilius shivered, shoulders tensing.

“Did that hurt?” Sirius asked.

“No, keep going,” Emilius muttered, voice a little rough.
Sirius said nothing, moving with surprising gentleness.
After a moment, he set the jar down and raised his wand, casting a simple pain-relief charm he’d seen Madam Pomfrey use.

A faint glow settled onto Emilius’s back, easing the ache.
“Better?”

Emilius rotated his shoulder carefully. Still sore, but tolerable.

“…Yeah.”

Sirius exhaled with relief, then cast a warming charm around them both, dispelling the biting cold of the deep cavern.

Emilius blinked, glancing sideways at him.

“…Since when are you thoughtful?”

“I just don’t want you freezing to death.”

They continued walking through the narrow, damp tunnel. Though still aching, Emilius tried not to show the fatigue weighing on him. Sirius walked ahead, wandlight glinting off rough stone walls. Only their footsteps echoed through the darkness.

Suddenly, Emilius spoke:
“So why do you always following me?”

Sirius didn’t stop, but his steps faltered slightly.

“Hm?”

“I’m asking, why me?” Emilius shot him a sideways look.

“There are loads of people out there who want your attention more. Why cling to me?”

Sirius was silent for a few seconds. Then he grinned.

“Because I want to.”

“…You’re insane.”

“Just now noticing? Besides, if I didn’t stick to you today, you’d be spider food by now, my dear Ravophine.”

Emilius glared at him but stayed quiet.

The tunnel narrowed, damp air thick with the smell of earth. Somewhere, water dripped steadily in the dark.
After a while, Sirius suddenly spoke again:

“By the way.”

“What?”

“You like dogs, right?”

Emilius did not like that tone. “…Yeah? And?”

Sirius shot him a shit-eating grin.

“Then I’m the perfect choice.”

“…What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sirius shrugged, smug as ever. “Simple. You like dogs. I can turn into one. Boom. Compatibility.”

There was a full second of silence.

Then Emilius exploded.

“Are you insane?! That’s not compatibility, that’s brain damage!”

Sirius, unfazed: “Sounds like denial.”

“Denial my ass! I like actual dogs, Black. Normal ones. The kind that don’t talk, swear, or break into people’s rooms!”

“Technically you let me in. Also, that’s what makes me better,” Sirius said cheerfully. “I come with upgrades.”

“UPGRADES?! I SWEAR TO MERLIN, IF YOU SAY ONE MORE WORD-”

Sirius burst out laughing as Emilius sped up in rage, trying to leave the lunatic behind. But Sirius only seemed more delighted, trailing after him like an unshakeable tail.

Chapter Text

The faint glow from Sirius’s wand threw jagged shadows over the stone walls. The darkness around them was thick, suffocating, and the only sound was their ragged, pathetic breathing.

The “adventure” had felt endless—they had run, fought, fallen, bled, and rolled around on the floor of life and death like some tragic circus act. And now… they were completely fucked.

Emilius collapsed first, slumping against the wall. His legs were gone, he could barely feel them and his body ached from falling off cliffs, getting squashed twice by a massive dog, and then being shoved into battle after battle. The universe had officially given him a solid middle finger.

Sirius watched him for a moment before sitting down beside him, leaning against the same wall.

In the dim glow, Emilius somehow looked… smaller than usual. The faint light caught in his honey-blond hair, casting soft shadows over his face. Strands fell loosely across his forehead, giving him a strangely quiet, tired sort of look.

Sirius sighed, lifting his wand lazily and murmuring a warming charm that wrapped them both in a bubble of reluctant coziness.

“Today sucked.” His voice was low, hoarse.

“Get some rest.”

Emilius didn’t answer. But a minute later, his breathing evened out.

Sirius watched, and maybe, just maybe, he felt a little pang of something he didn’t want to name. Relief? Guilt?

The dangerous combination of both? He didn’t care.

He closed his eyes. For the first time since falling down here, they allowed themselves a moment of nothing.

—————-

Sirius woke first.

The faint light had died completely. The world above might have been day, night, or some cruel purgatory—he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. No sun, no moon, just endless oppressive dark.

“Lumos.”

His wand flared, and his eyes landed on Emilius.
The boy was still asleep. His hair was a messy halo of gold, a few strands sticking to his dust-smudged cheek. For the first time since their fall, his face wasn’t tense or annoyed, just deeply, utterly tired.

Sirius watched him quietly.

Emilius was always sharp-tongued, always posturing like he was unfazed by everything, but he was still just a teenager, thrown into danger no one his age should face, exhausted to the point he could fall asleep without guarding himself.

…Without guarding himself from him.

There was something in his chest, heavy and intrusive, but he ignored it. He was not dealing with feelings tonight.

He shifted, ready to stand, when something tugged at his sleeve. Sirius froze. Emilius, still asleep, had instinctively gripped his sleeve.

And for the first time, Sirius’s heart skipped. The boy’s fingers tightened slightly, unconsciously. Not sharp or sarcastic, not bold or annoying, just… holding onto the only thing that was still solid and warm in this hellish dungeon.

Sirius blinked. Muttered a curse under his breath.
He sat back down, letting Emilius keep hold of him.
Fine. A little longer. He could wait.

————

Emilius stirred. His lashes fluttered. Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The faint wand-light threw shadows across the grey stone ceiling.

He blinked a few times. The world felt like it was made of lead, all of him aching like he’d been run over by a team of Trolls.

“…A—” he groaned, reaching up to rub his eyes, then froze.

His right hand was still clamped on Sirius’s sleeve.
For one horrific, embarrassing second, Emilius went completely rigid.

Shit.

He yanked it back, fast enough he almost scratched himself. Sirius, still leaning against the wall, raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Finally awake, huh?” His voice was hoarse. Tired. Maybe a little amused. Maybe dangerous.

Emilius turned away, sat up, rubbing his temples.

“How long were we out?”

Sirius glanced at the still-glowing wand. Shrugged.
“No idea. Long enough for my body to file a formal complaint.” He stretched. “You okay?”

Emilius tested his limbs. Still sore. Still beat. But not dead. That was a plus.

“I can keep going.” He pushed himself up, brushing dust off his clothes, eyes shifting to the dark tunnel ahead.

“No idea how far we’ve got left.”

“Definitely farther than you’d like,” Sirius replied dryly.

The two of them moved forward in silence, their footsteps echoing off the walls of the dark tunnel. The air was damp and oppressive, the faint light from Sirius’s wand barely reaching a few meters ahead.

“That fight the other day… you weren’t half bad.”

Emilius glanced at him. “Other day?”

“You know… .” Sirius raised an eyebrow. “The one with the five Slytherins. You went full ‘chaos incarnate.’”

Emilius snorted, eyes drifting away. “They deserved it.”

“Fair enough,” Sirius said, chuckling. “But damn, I’ve never seen anyone throw fists like that before.”

Emilius shrugged casually. “Muggle boxing.”

Sirius stopped mid-step, eyes sparkling with interest. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think of Muggles?”

Emilius raised an eyebrow. “Why do you care all of a sudden?”

“I just… find it curious. A Slytherin, taking Muggle boxing lessons.”

“And?”

“And… I thought you’d look down on them. All the Slytherins I’ve met? Total snobs.”

Emilius snorted through his nose. “Being Slytherin doesn’t dictate my hobbies. And you lot… always sticking labels on people like it matters. Gryffindor, Slytherin… it’s just a name. Stop acting like it defines the whole damn person.”

Sirius blinked, a little thrown by the honesty. After a pause, he asked, “…So what do you really think of Muggles?”

“They’re no different from us.”

“They’re better, sometimes,” Emilius said, adjusting his collar. “They make everything with their own hands. No magic.”

Sirius tilted his head, pretending to think. “…Sure,” he murmured.

Suddenly, the tunnel split into three. They stopped. Sirius squinted at the three pitch-black paths ahead. Not a single clue in sight.

“Don’t tell me you have some sixth sense for choosing tunnels, huh?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Emilius frowned, stepping back, eyes scanning the three dark paths.

Nothing obvious. But he didn’t panic. Instead, he inhaled, closed his eyes, and focused on other senses.

The left passage reeked of thick, stagnant earth.

The middle smelled of moss and damp, the floor slightly softer, likely leading deeper underground.

The right… a faint breeze, almost imperceptible, carrying a subtle scent of water. Enough to make him open his eyes.

“This one.” He pointed to the right.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Reason?”

“Didn’t you hear the echoes?”

Sirius frowned, listening. Silence.
“Exactly. The silence is what matters.” Emilius opened his eyes. “The structure of all three tunnels is almost identical, but only this one absorbs sound. The space ahead must be wider. Plus, there’s a tiny airflow, and water… probably a subterranean lake or an exit.”

Sirius stared at him.

Damn.

But don’t get him to admit it.

“Fine. I’ll follow your genius thinking.”

They stepped into the right-hand tunnel, their shadows stretching over the stone floor. Footsteps mingled with the tiny, steady drip of water.

They crossed the last stretch, and suddenly…

The space opened up.

A massive underground lake stretched before them, its surface shimmering like molten silver, reflecting an ethereal blue light onto the vaulted ceiling. Sparks of light drifted in the water like stars fallen into the earth itself. Surreal, magnificent.

Sirius whistled. “Well… I didn’t think I’d see something like this underground.”

Emilius didn’t answer. He knelt, fingertips grazing the water. Ripples spread, scattering the reflections in delicate concentric circles.

“…Not an ordinary lake.”

His eyes scanned the far side. A tiny island rose from the water, stones arranged in a circle, covered in ancient, deeply carved runes.

“Treasure? Or a secret someone hid?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, glancing at Emilius.

Emilius stayed quiet, then slowly stood.

“Both,” he said. “And I’m gonna find out exactly which one.”

Sirius’s eyes lit up. “How do you plan to get there? Swim?”

Emilius glanced at the lake. Crystal-clear water, light dancing beneath its surface… but he wasn’t about to jump in blind.

“No.” He drew his wand. “Carpe Retractum.”

A purple magical rope shot from the wand, wrapping around a large stone on the island. Emilius tugged sharply, launching himself across the water like a gymnast, landing solidly on the island.

Sirius laughed. “Not bad.”

He followed, wand in hand. And, of course, when he neared the shore, he pirouetted midair, landing with all the flair of someone trying too hard.

Emilius: “…Ew.”

He stepped back a few paces, avoiding Sirius’s unnecessary theatrics.

Sirius grinned. “Impressive, right?”

“…Definitely more impressive than you falling on top of me earlier.”

Sirius laughed, but before he could reply, Emilius focused on the rune-covered stones. He ran a hand over the rough surface, eyes scanning each symbol.

“Ancient runes,” he muttered. “Very ancient.”

“Readable?” Sirius stepped closer, eyes following the glowing lines.

“…Maybe.” Emilius traced them with his fingers. “But it’s more than writing. I think it’s… activated.”

Sirius blinked. “Activated?”

Before he could finish…

BANG!

A burst of golden light erupted from the stones, the runes flaring as if awakened.

The ground beneath them trembled, and from the earth, a stone structure began to rise.

In the center of the island, an ancient gate appeared, shrouded in a misty haze.
Emilius and Sirius exchanged a look.

Looks like they’d just unlocked a secret no one had ever discovered.

Sirius gripped his wand, eyes gleaming with excitement… and caution. “Okay, I’m no expert on ancient magic, but this is definitely not your average doorway.”

Emilius, still staring at the glowing runes, murmured, “Of course not. Nothing here is normal.”

“So…” Sirius tilted his head. “You gonna open it?”

Emilius glanced at him. “Do I even have a choice?”

Sirius laughed.

Emilius inhaled, raising his wand, muttering the incantation. The gate’s light intensified, runes vibrating with ancient power…

Then

BOOM

A blast of icy air shot out, sucking them in.
Sirius yelped. “Merlin—!”

Before he could react, they were pulled inside.
A vast chamber opened before them. No lake, no dark tunnel, just a massive stone hall with vaulted ceilings, floating glowing crystals. The air was silent, but heavy, charged with ancient, potent magic.

Treasure lay everywhere.

Gold, silver, gemstones the size of fists. Ancient swords gleaming on stone pedestals, robes embroidered with strange patterns, dusty tomes glowing with mystery…
Sirius nearly lost it.

“MERLIN—”

He lunged forward, laughing like a child in a candy store.

“Look at this! Is that a golden wand?!”

“And that—A crown?? Do I look good in it?!”

He plopped a crown on his head, struck a heroic pose, then tossed it aside for a cooler-looking sword.
Emilius just stood there, shaking his head, but secretly… impressed.

In the center, a chest rested on a stone pedestal, drawing Emilius’s attention.

Unlike the dusty treasures around it, this one was pristine. Carvings glowed faintly, almost waiting for someone to open it.

Something compelled Emilius forward.

“Go ahead,” he muttered to Sirius, eyes fixed on the chest.

He placed a hand on the cold lid

The moment his fingers touched it, a surge of energy shot out. The room trembled.

“Ravophine!” Sirius shouted, spinning around, but it was already too late.

The light from the runes on the chest flared up, shooting straight into Emilius’s hand and then spreading throughout his body.

He froze, eyes wide, every muscle taut as if some invisible force was pulling him apart.

Images flooded his mind.

The instant his fingertip touched the chest, an unseen power surged into him, like something had been waiting for this exact moment to activate.

Everything locked.

His vision darkened, but countless bizarre images poured into his consciousness like an uncontrollable flood.
Hogwarts engulfed in flames, a crimson sky swallowing everything.

Faceless shadows, screams intertwined with clashing metal, a bloody hand gripping a shattered wand.
A collapsing bridge, splintering into pieces, plummeting into an abyss.

Chaos and sound collided: screams, calls for someone, muffled sobs carried away by the wind.

Amid it all, a name echoed, not his name. Not anyone he knew. But something inside him knew it mattered.
His head throbbed.

Pain tore through his brain, like thousands of needles piercing every nerve, dragging him away from reality.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His body was numb, vision twisted, and then, everything went black.

Emilius collapsed onto the cold stone floor, gasping, chest heaving as if ripped from some nightmarish dimension.
Sirius lunged forward.

“EMILIUS!”

He dropped to his knees, rolling Emilius onto his back, hands gripping his shoulders.

Emilis face was pale, breath ragged, eyes wide and vacant, trapped in something Sirius couldn’t see.

“Dammit! Wake up!” Sirius shook him hard, voice a mix of panic and fear.

No response.

Sirius gritted his teeth, drawing his wand, muttering a reviving spell. Pale blue light washed over Emilius, but nothing changed.

He remained motionless, pupils dilated as if staring into something unbearable.

“Goddammit…” Sirius bit his lip, helplessness swelling inside. He had no idea what the hell had just happened.
He’d seen someone look exactly like this before.

Cold. Hollow. Immobile.

Dead.

His hands clutched Emilius’s shoulders, fear clawing at his chest like a living thing.

“Don’t you dare joke like this…” His voice was rough, nearly breaking.

He shook him again, almost rattling Emilius’s entire body.

“Ravophine, wake up! I swear I’ll kill you if you keep this up!”

No. No way. Not like this. Not in front of him.

Sirius leaned close, ear to Emilius’s chest. His heart was still beating. But Emilius was eerily silent.

He looked up, hand trembling as it brushed Emilius’s cheek.

Cold.

Emilius Ravophine couldn’t die. Not like this. Not before he’d told him how he really felt.

A sharp exhale. Emilius jerked violently, inhaling deeply, as if escaping a nightmare.

Before Sirius’s heart could settle, Emilius coughed violently, body trembling like he’d been thrown from another world.

His eyes, wide and empty moments ago, slowly refocused. Sweat poured from him, breath ragged, as if pulled up from the depths of water.

Sirius just stared, chest slowly unclenching, feeling a weight lift that he hadn’t realized was crushing him.

“Ravophine,” he rasped, hands still clamped on his shoulders.

Emilius blinked. He turned toward him, still groggy

Then frowned.

“…You’re sitting on my fucking chest .”

Sirius: “…”

It took him three seconds to realize he was still kneeling, half his body pressed against Emilius, hands clutching his shoulders like he was afraid he’d vanish again.

Emilius squinted.

“…Bloody hell?” His voice was hoarse. “Were you planning to take advantage of me while I was out?”

Sirius: “…”

This shithead.

Just waking up and already pissing him off.

The panic from moments ago evaporated. Sirius gritted his teeth, squeezing Emilius’s shoulders harder.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, Ravophine!” he bellowed. “Do you have any idea I actually thought you were dead just now?!”

Emilius pursed his lips, blinking once. He looked slightly surprised at seeing Sirius actually lose it.

“…Its nothing,” he mumbled. “Just… felt a little weird.”
Sirius frowned, staring him down.

“…Weird how?”

Emilius inhaled sharply, but a headache hit him like a rogue Bludger.

Fuzzy images swarmed his mind, overlapping like shards of broken mirrors, laughter, screams, shadowy figures, something burning, a woman screaming, a giant serpent…

He shivered. Then it was gone.

He blinked, realizing Sirius was still staring at him, gray eyes lingering with a trace of panic that hadn’t entirely faded.

“Ravophine,” Sirius said, voice lower than usual, “…you—”

“Nothing,” Emilius cut him off.

He didn’t understand what had just happened, and he wasn’t about to add to Sirius’s panic. Vague explanations were useless right now.

The headache throbbed, but he ignored it.

“Help me up.”

Sirius paused, then reached out to haul him to his feet.
That’s when Emilius noticed the silver chest before them had swung open, the moment his fingers touched it.
Light from the lake glittered across the carved patterns on its surface.

Inside, there was no gold, no jewels. Only an old, dust-covered journal.

Emilius bent down and picked it up. Dust blurred the cover, but the engraved letters were still clear in the faint blue glow.

“Basil Wyndham.”

One of the greatest seers in history. His prophecies were recorded in countless ancient texts, but this journal had never been mentioned.

Emilius flipped to the first page. Handwriting dense, ink smudged by time, yet still legible.

“I have seen it.

I do not know when, where, or by what means.

But it will come.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Creepy.”

“It’s a prophecy journal. Of course it’s creepy,” Emilius muttered, flipping through more pages, eyes skimming the strange symbols.

The writing became chaotic, sentences fragmented, some pages filled only with crude sketches, circles, gates, a pair of giant, soulless eyes, horrifying in ways hard to describe.

“This… feels like a warning,” Sirius muttered.

Emilius didn’t reply, but thought the same.

The images from before… it felt exactly like this. He unconsciously gripped the book tighter, heartbeat quickening.

What the hell was going on?

He’d never had prophetic abilities, yet right now it felt like he’d glimpsed something from the future.
He closed the journal, eyes flicking over the ancient carvings on the cover before tucking it safely into his robe.

Now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

First, they needed a way out.

He spun, eyes sweeping the treasure-filled room. Gems glittered, gold cups gleamed, ancient swords sparkled, priceless. Yet nothing would help them escape.

“Hey, check this out.”

Sirius’s voice drew Emilius’s attention. He gestured toward a corner of the room. A mirror.

The mirror stretched nearly to the ceiling, silver frame carved with ancient runes, twisting patterns that seemed to move.

The surface didn’t reflect them. Instead, it showed another space. Emilius touched it lightly. Ripples spread from his fingertip, as if he’d just skimmed water. Sirius stood beside him, arms crossed, watching intently.

“You think it leads somewhere?”

“Got another choice?” Emilius replied casually, stepping forward.

No shocks, no flashes of light, nothing unusual. In an instant, he was no longer in the treasure room.
Sirius shrugged and stepped through after him.

They appeared in a long stone tunnel, dim light filtering from the far end. The air was fresher here, carrying the scent of moss and earth.

“…This has to be the way out,” Emilius said, checking his robe. The journal was safe, wand in hand, nothing lost.
Sirius stretched, exhaling. “Finally, I’m sick to death of that hellhole.”

Without hesitation, they moved toward the light.
The further they went, the fresher the air. The damp earth scent mingled with a gentle breeze through the tunnel.

Emilius quickened his pace, eyes glinting with anticipation. After a seemingly endless journey, there were finally signs of the outside world.

Sirius walked beside him, clearly more relaxed now that they’d left the suffocating chamber. He stretched, then glanced at Emilius.

“How’s it feel?”

“Like I just got trampled by a pile of spiders, fell onto solid stone, and then got crushed by some fatass dog,” Emilius replied dryly.

Sirius laughed. “Well, at least you’re still alive. And hey! My ass is NOT fat!”

He stretched out a hand to the natural light as they neared the tunnel’s exit. Sunlight pierced the leafy canopy. Birds chirped, wind rustled the trees.

Emilius paused, inhaling deeply.

Fresh air.

Sirius stretched again, savoring it. “I swear, I’ve never seen trees look this good.” He laughed, pointing at the forest. “I could just roll around and nap right here.”

Emilius glanced at him. “Your choice. I’m going back school.”

“No nap at all?”

“I want one,” Emilius said bluntly. “But I want to go back more.”

Sunlight lit his hair, turning golden strands into molten honey.

Sirius froze for a beat.

He stared at Emilius, heart hammering, a fire he’d been holding back now threatening to burn out of control.
Then he said, teasing:

“You know, Ravophine…”

“Know what?” Emilius didn’t bother looking back, dusting his robe.

“In the sunlight, you look like an angel.”

“…Huh?”

“That hair, those eyes, that whole ‘don’t-care’ attitude.”

Sirius stepped closer, voice low, almost hypnotic. “If I didn’t know you are the real maniac of Hogwarts, I’d swear you fell straight from heaven.”

Emilius side-eyed him, expression blank.

Then he snorted.

“Are you insane? Did you hit your head in the tunnels or something?”

Sirius chuckled, but his eyes never left him.

“Just speaking the truth.”

“Yeah, thanks for wasting your breath being ridiculous.”

Emilius flicked his hair back, unfazed, and continued walking.

Sirius watched, shaking his head with a grin.

No worries. He had plenty of time.

Chapter Text

Meet the Trio

Emilius Ravophine: Emilius stands at 1.80 meters (5’11”) despite being only 15, built like a boxer who eats chaos for breakfast. Golden hair, wild and untamed, walks like he owns gravity itself. Doesn’t care about showing off, but somehow everyone notices him anyway. Lazy, slightly nerdy, occasionally does weird things, but still impossibly cool. Think: jock meets bookworm meets “I just woke up like this.”

In the trio, Emilius is the tallest, strongest, and most masculine: In a normal school setting, he’d be the quintessential “jock”, athletic, ridiculously good-looking, muscular. But he’s also slightly eccentric, loves reading Muggle novels, and when not playing Quidditch, he’d happily laze around all day. He’s basically a nerdy jock.

Pegasus Grey: Tiny but lethal. 1.65m of pure mischief. The mastermind prankster of the group, always scheming. Small frame, big attitude. Serious when it comes to Emilius, basically his personal bodyguard, counselor, and chaos consultant all in one. Can’t play Quidditch because, well, life isn’t fair, but won’t admit it to anyone.

Hayden Alert: The unassuming Hufflepuff. Normal height, normal grades, normal everything… except somehow ends up friends with these lunatics. Constantly questions why he’s even allowed in this trio. Gets dragged into adventures, protected by Emilius, teased by Pegasus, survives mostly by sheer luck and obliviousness.

Dynamic: Alpha energy from Emilius + chaos from Pegasus + accidental heartwarming from Hayden. Together, they are a mix of brawn, brains, mischief, and “please don’t die” vibes.

Sirius always tries to look cool and rebellious, whereas Emilius couldn’t care less about appearances. That natural detachment only makes him more magnetic.

Emilius has minimal facial expressions, often mistaken for coldness: In reality, he’s lazy and does whatever he pleases. But since he rarely shows emotions, people tend to think he’s aloof and mysterious.

Pegasus can’t play Quidditch due to physical illness, but he lies to the Marauders that he’s uninterested. Only Hayden and Emilius know the truth.

Originally, as first-years, James and Sirius were paired up, and Pegasus barely interacted with them despite being in the same dorm. He didn’t like pureblood kids because he thought they were all pretentious. One night, when James and Sirius snuck out with the invisibility cloak, they found Pegasus pranking Filch. Delighted, they became friends instantly.

Pegasus is serious whenever Emilius is involved. Aside from Dracy, he’s the only one who knew Emilius before the kidnapping incident, so he understands how much it affected him and will protect him at all costs.

(James is extremely fond of Pegasus, if Sirius is like a brother, Pegasus might even be “more than that,” but that’s for later 😉)

James felt guilty and wanted Pegasus to forgive him quickly. After the tree incident, James personally apologized to Hayden and Emilius, so he no longer has any bad blood with them. Sirius, meanwhile, didn’t bother, he considered it nothing serious.

Emilius hated Sirius more after the tree incident for endangering Hayden. But after knowing that Sirius and James had jumped in to stop him when he lost control, he forgave him, at least partially.

Hayden always insecure. From childhood, his father—a brilliant Ravenclaw, expected him to excel. But Hayden never stood out academically or otherwise.

He’s a normal Hufflepuff among two exceptional friends: Emilius, a talented and prestigious Slytherin, and Pegasus, a clever, noble-born Gryffindor. Hayden? Nothing special. His academic memory is poor, he still forgets simple spells like Accio in year five. Hayden sometimes wonders why Emilius and Pegasus are friends with him, he feels too ordinary compared to them.

Emilius treats Hayden like a younger brother. Being an only child, Hayden became the little brother he instinctively wants to protect. While Emilius and Pegasus are more mature, Hayden is carefree and naive, unaware of danger, so the other two always have his back.

Chapter Text

After being stuck in that damned vault for a full day and night, the two of them finally staggered back to Hogwarts.

Morning light filtered through the cold stone corridor. Emilius felt like a corpse in motion. All he wanted was a bed. Preferably one he could die on. Sirius, for reasons beyond human comprehension, still had the energy to talk.

At the hallway split, where they would each head off to their common rooms, Sirius suddenly stopped, gave Emilius a long look from head to toe, and grinned.

“That was the best adventure I’ve ever had, Ravophine.”
He winked.

Emilius was too tired to roll his eyes. He just flapped a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, well, I want to sleep until I forget my own name.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and trudged toward the Slytherin dungeons.

“Oi! Make sure you get your back checked in the infirmary!”

Emilius didn’t acknowledge a thing. Sirius stayed there, staring after him until Ravophine disappeared, then finally headed for Gryffindor Tower.

The Slytherin common room opened with a soft hiss. Emilius stepped inside like a dying veteran returning from war.

Snape was alone by the fireplace, hoarding an armchair with a massive book. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps and nearly choked.

“Where have you been? You look like you fell down a chimney.”

“Took a field trip to hell.”

Snape narrowed his eyes. He clearly wanted to ask more, but Emilius had already turned away and headed straight upstairs.

…Shower first. He smelled like something that had been dead twice.

——————-

When he finally woke up, Emilius felt like he had respawned.

His stomach was howling. After more than twenty-four hours in that nightmare vault with a little biscuts, food was now a religious calling. Luckily, he’d slept right through to dinner.

He dragged himself to the Great Hall, collapsed at the nearest table, and started inhaling food.

Roast ribs. Meat pies. Hot soup. Pumpkin juice.

Everything within arm’s reach went straight into the void known as his stomach. Nothing mattered besides refueling.

Only when he was full, properly alive again, did a thought hit him.

…Ah.

Pegasus.

That little shit.

Emilius retreated to an empty corner, scowling as he pulled out the two-way mirror. A few seconds later, Pegasus’s blank, confused face blinked into view.

“Huh?”

Before Pegasus could react, Emilius growled:

“YOU.”

Pegasus jumped, nearly dropping the mirror.

“W-what?! Calm down! I didn’t do anything!”

“STILL PRETENDING TO BE INNOCENT?!” Emilius leaned close to the mirror. “How long have you been hiding this from me, you shithead?!”

“H-hiding what?” Pegasus blinked innocently.

“YOU’RE AN ANIMAGUS!!”

Pegasus froze.

“And the whole Black-is-a-dog thing too. WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!”

Pegasus opened his mouth, but Emilius cut him off, firing words like a storm:

“What kind of best friend keeps a secret this huge? Do you think I’m some random stranger?!”

Pegasus gawked at him, stammering:

“Uh… uh… how did you know Sirius is the black dog? Did he tell you?”

“Bloody hell!! Do you even realize I petted him, ate with him, and EVEN LET HIM INTO MY ROOM?!!”

Pegasus’s eyes went wide, then burst into laughter. Emilius gritted his teeth.

“AND YOU’RE STILL LAUGHING, TRAITOR?!”

“Damn, I wish I was there! Black must have been thrilled!”

Emilius took a deep breath to restrain the urge to smash the mirror, then spat each word:

“One more laugh and I’ll hex your stupid face to bits, Grey.”

Pegasus tried to stifle a laugh, but his eyes betrayed his amusement.

“So… when did you finally realize?”

Emilius closed his eyes, trying to forget the embarrassment of the truth. He sighed, then recounted the reluctant adventure he’d just endured.

Pegasus propped his chin on his hand, listening to Emilius from start to finish, from falling into the tunnel, the spider encounter, to the glowing lake and the ancient journal.

He laughed so hard he nearly hurt his stomach.

“Wait… let me get this straight,” he said, pressing a hand to his forehead to stop himself from laughing. “You let Black into your room, let him follow you to meals, talked to him like a pet… and only realized when he turned back into a human in front of you?”

Emilius clenched the mirror tighter.

“So?”

“So… it’s hilarious! Merlin, if anyone finds out—”

“I’ll be the first to curse you,” Emilius spat, his eyes darkening.

Pegasus snorted, trying to hide his grin. “Alright, alright, I’ll zip it.” But he still looked mischievous. “Anyway… that prophetic journal, have you read it yet?”

Emilius hesitated.

“…Just flipped through it in the cave. Haven’t really looked.”

Pegasus raised an eyebrow.

“Why not? You love all that old writing stuff.”

Emilius was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Haven’t had the time.”

But really, that wasn’t the main reason. Deep down, he knew opening it might show something he didn’t want to see.

“Then we’ll look at it together when we get back to school, alright?”

“Yeah. But hey… you still haven’t answered me about being an Animagus. Why did you hide it?”

Pegasus Grey’s expression darkened, and he sighed.
“Emil, you’re my best friend. Don’t think I don’t trust you. But honestly, this isn’t my story to tell. You just need to know this much.”

“It’s about Remus Lupin, isn’t it?”

Pegasus was silent for a few seconds, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Then he shook his head.

“Damn, you really can’t be kept in the dark about anything, huh?”

“I’ve got eyes and brains. Been noticing something weird between your group for ages.”

Pegasus exhaled, hesitation crossing his face. “Yes, it involves Remus, but… I can’t say more.”

“So I have to ask Lupin myself?”

Pegasus raised his hands. “I’m not saying a word. If you figure it out yourself, fine.”

Emilius glanced at him, then shrugged.

“Fine. I’m not forcing it. But sooner or later, it’ll come out, Grey.”

“We’ll see.”

The call ended, and Pegasus’s reflection faded from the mirror.

Emilius exhaled, shoved the mirror into his pocket, and leaned back against the cold stone wall. He didn’t really care about Remus Lupin. Everyone has secrets. If Pegasus didn’t want to tell, that was fine.

But what made him furious was that his best friend had hidden this from him, making him look foolish in front of Sirius Black. Just thinking about realizing the black dog following him all this time was actually Black made Emilius want to dig a hole and die.

Why had it to be him?!

He slumped forward, groaning in frustration.

“Why the pathetic groaning, Ravophine?”

The familiar voice sounded right behind him, making Emilius jump. He spun around to see Sirius Black leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes glinting with amusement.

“…What are you doing here?” Emilius frowned. “And more importantly, how do you always find me?”

Sirius shrugged, a smug smile on his face.

“I have my ways.”

Emilius squinted. “Ways?”

“Secret.” Sirius winked, looking mysteriously like he was holding some grand secret.

Emilius stared, trying to get a clue, but Sirius just smirked, cocky enough to make him want to punch him.

“…You’ve got way too much free time,” Emilius muttered, turning away. “Spit it out.”

“Back still hurt?”

Emilius was surprised. “...It’s better now.”

“Good.” Sirius nodded. “’Cause if I had to take care of you again, it’d be a nightmare.”

Emilius gave him a side-eye.

“Who asked?”

Sirius’s grin was teasing, almost cheeky.

“Exactly. If I had to rub your back, worry about you, and fuss over you all the time… eventually, you’d have to… take me, too.”

Emilius nearly choked. His face stayed calm, but in his head, he wondered if he’d heard that right.

“…Did those poisonous spiders make you delirious, Black?”

Sirius winked. “No, just telling the truth.”

Emilius closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Normally, he wasn’t easily provoked, but this teasing tone… was infuriating. Even arguing with Dracy one-on-one hadn’t made his skin crawl like this.

“Can you stop?”

“Stop what?”

“That tone.”

Sirius laughed, as if he’d just heard the funniest thing ever.

“What tone? I’m just asking because I care.”

“Forget it.”

“Alright. That prophetic journal, have you read any more of it yet?”

Finally, Sirius looked serious, and Emilius just shook his head.

“Not yet. I was planning to wait until Pony and Hayden get back to school so we can figure it out together.”

“Pony and Hayden? Hey! I’m the one who discovered it with you! Don’t just brush me off like that!”

“Quiet. If I find anything else, I’ll let you know.”
Sirius snorted.

“No way. I want in. Otherwise, I’ll drag James and Remus into it.”

“…Fine, whatever.”

Suddenly, Black stepped closer, pinning him against the wall. Emilius stiffened and instinctively tried to step back, but the cold stone wall was behind him. No escape.

“What do you want now?”

Sirius rested a hand on the wall beside his head, a half-smile on his lips.

“Why so tense?”

Emilius tried to appear calm, though goosebumps prickled all over him.

“I’m not tense.”

“Really?” Sirius tilted his head, eyes teasing. “You seem to enjoy this… closeness.”

Emilius frowned, irritation surging so strongly he could’ve punched him right then.

“Can you stop, Black?”

Sirius chuckled, not moving away.

“Why stop? I’m just talking normally.”

Emilius gritted his teeth. This time, he felt Sirius wasn’t just teasing him as usual.

“I’d rather you bicker with me like normal than feel like this.”

Sirius paused for a second, then laughed.

“Oh? So you remember those times?”

“I remember your face,” Emilius huffed, shoving Sirius’s shoulder to break free, but he didn’t budge.

“What if I told you I enjoy teasing you like this more?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a hint of danger in his gaze.

Emilius truly had no idea what he wanted.

This time, Sirius spoke slower, voice soft, almost like a breeze:

“Your eyes are… really beautiful, Ravophine.”

Emilius blinked, his brain taking half a second to process.
“…What?”

Sirius tilted his head, leaning against the wall right beside Emilius’s shoulder, clearly not planning to move away.

“So cold… looking at you feels like staring at ice.”

He frowned thoughtfully, as if contemplating something.

“But… it’s also beautiful. Like a winter lake.”

Goosebumps erupted across Emilius.

He could handle arrogant brats, provocateurs, even a horde of vicious Slytherins, but Sirius’s words…

Not normal.

“…You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?”

“You keep asking, but I’m completely normal.”

“Then please speak normally to me.”

“What’s normal?”

Emilius ground his teeth. “Normal is not standing this close, not saying nauseating things like this—”

“Oh? You really find it nauseating?”

Sirius suddenly leaned even closer, eyes intent, as if trying to read Emilius’s thoughts.

“You still haven’t answered me last time, why would a perfect face like yours hide itself?”

Discomfort surged in Emilius’s chest, but not in the way he wanted to admit.

“Step back, Black.”

“Answer me first.”

“You’re insane.”

Sirius grinned, but Emilius could see he had no intention of moving.

“What if I said… I’m interested in you, Emilius?”

In a blur of movement, Emilius seized Sirius by the collar, dragging him so close their noses almost touched.

“I’m not someone you mess with for fun, Black.”

His voice cut low, icy and razor-sharp, each word dripping with danger.

“Carefully who you’re daring to provoke.”

Sirius froze. A shiver ran down his spine.

This was the first time he saw him angry like this, not a flare of temper, but precise, dangerous, razor-sharp.
One corner of Sirius’s mouth lifted, but the usual teasing in his eyes dimmed.

Intrigued? Maybe.

But something else, something that made his chest tighten in an instant.

“…Alright.” Sirius raised his hands, gently removing Emilius’s grip from his collar. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Emilius shoved him away.

“Good.”

He said it coldly, then turned and walked off.

Sirius stayed, watching Emilius’s retreating back, lips still curled in a faint, calm smile.

A cold wind swept the corridor, but the chill he just felt wasn’t from the weather.

Dangerous.

For the first time, Sirius felt it clearly from someone his own age, not like the creatures in that tunnel, but another kind of threat. A mystery he couldn’t see through or control.

And Merlin, it drove him mad.

Sirius Black loved danger. And Emilius Ravophine with all his coldness, unpredictability, and sharpness was becoming a target he couldn’t look away from.

“Quite the sight, Black. Never thought I’d see the day you got collar-grabbed like that.”

Sirius spun around, frowning at Snape. The annoyed professor collided immediately with the cocky posture Sirius had been enjoying.

“What are you doing here, Snivellus?” Sirius barked.
Snape shrugged, indifferent, but laced with sarcasm.

“Just passing by. Didn’t expect to witness the humiliating downfall of Sirius Black.”

Sirius snorted, a crooked smile on his face.

“So you have so much free time you spy on others, Snivellus?”

Snape’s black eyes glinted coldly, yet he kept his mocking composure.

“Speaking of following others, you’re the one trailing everyone all the time, Black. Look at you, always acting nonchalant, yet just one person ignores you and you’re like a lost dog.”

Sirius clenched his fists.

Snape noticed and pushed the jab further.

“Funny, isn’t it? Your family doesn’t care, but the one you actually care about… couldn’t care less.”

Sirius’s eyes darkened. “Shut up.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, a faint smile curling his lips.

“Ravophine’s smart enough not to waste time on a lunatic like you, Black.”

His crooked smile vanished completely.

Sirius was used to Snape’s provocations, but this time, every word felt like a knife to the one thing Sirius didn’t want to admit.

He knew Emilius wasn’t like the others. Not a fangirl, not a hater. He couldn’t be swayed, didn’t care about the mask Sirius wore.

And that made him furious, yet maddeningly attracted.
Sirius stepped closer, facing Snape, eyes flashing danger.

“Like sticking your big nose in my business, don’t you, Snivellus?”

His voice lowered, almost a warning.

Snape didn’t flinch. “Just stating the truth.”

Sirius scoffed.

“Then here’s another truth for you.”

He leaned down, whispering mysteriously:

“You’ve always been curious about Remus Lupin, haven’t you? Next full moon, go to the Shrieking Shack, through the secret path by the Whomping Willow.”

Snape paused. His dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, but curiosity shone through.

Sirius smirked.

“Got the guts? Go see. Who knows, you might discover what you’ve always wanted to know.”

A pause stretched between them. Snape snorted, turning away.

Sirius watched, strangely satisfied.

He wanted to see the usual arrogant, haughty Snape face twist with fear. Wanted to teach him a lesson for always acting dangerous, like he knew everything.

And above all, he wanted to vent his own frustration.
Snape had said one thing correctly: Emilius didn’t care about him. And that made Sirius furious.

But if he had to endure this discomfort, Snivellus would suffer a little too.

Chapter Text

The last quiet afternoon in the Slytherin common room before the students returned from the holiday break, by the fireplace, found two figures playing wizard’s chess, an odd sight, no doubt, for anyone else, since Severus Snape and Emilius Ravophine were hardly the sort to be called friends.

Emilius lounged back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, a chocolate in hand, his expression utterly serene, as if he hadn’t just lost five games in a row. That calmness felt completely out of place.

Emilius Ravophine: a brilliant student, one of the best Quidditch players, exceptionally intelligent… and yet, unbelievably terrible at chess.

“Are you even taking this seriously?” Snape finally snapped. “Did you invite me to play just so you could lose like a fool, or are you trying to waste my time?”

Snape couldn’t fathom that someone as outstanding as Ravophine in every other way could play chess so recklessly, as if he were moving pieces at random. At first, Snape had felt a small thrill in winning, but it quickly turned to frustration.

Emilius’ face remained perfectly composed, unfazed.
“I assure you, I am playing very seriously.”

Snape’s throat tightened in irritation. “Seriously? You call that serious? Losing five games in a row so disastrously, don’t you feel any shame?”

“Hey, not everyone’s good at chess, Snape.” “But you are! Someone exceptional in everything else, yet you play worse than a toddler, do you expect me to believe that?”

Emilius raised an eyebrow, still radiating that casual, carefree charm.

“…Wow, I didn’t know you thought so highly of me. I’m touched.”

Snape almost choked on his own words, unsure how to respond. This boy was utterly unpredictable.

Glancing at Emilius, Snape’s irritation mingled with an undeniable acknowledgment: the boy’s perfection was… distracting. From the cascade of golden hair to the cold, luminous eyes that drew you in, there was a disquieting allure, mixed with a vague, envious frustration. Emilius wasn’t just brilliant. He was breathtaking.

And yet, he played chess terribly, with a certain air of absent-minded foolishness.

When Emilius’ piece was finally cornered beyond saving, he merely glanced at it, then popped a chocolate into his mouth.

“That’s it.”

Snape let out a sarcastic sigh, clearly running out of patience. “I don’t understand you at all.”

Emilius yawned.

“I’m terrible, okay? Nothing mysterious there.”

Increasingly frustrated, Snape exhaled sharply and glanced at the clock. The train would be arriving soon.

“Are you planning to meet Lily Evans?”

At the mention of her name, Snape’s demeanor shifted immediately.

“What business of yours?” he snapped.

“I thought you two were close friends?”

Seeing Snape remain silent, Emilius continued.

“I noticed you two arguing before the break… quite loudly, actually.”

Snape whipped around. “You were eavesdropping?”

Emilius, still lazily lounging in his chair, slowly unwrapped another chocolate, dropping it into his mouth as if the conversation were mere background noise for his snack.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he said, chewing. “I was sitting behind the railing, in the bushes.”

Snape froze. A long, silent moment passed.

“…So that chewing sound was you?!”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you just sat there and listened to everything?”

“Well, that’s my favorite spot. The hallway’s quiet, the bushes are big, there’s shade, it’s discreet… then suddenly you two started shouting at each other.”

Snape stared at Emilius like he was facing some incomprehensible creature. Emotions flickered across his face anger, confusion, helplessness, all in rapid succession.

“You… you sat there, eating chocolate in the bushes?!”

Emilius nodded, impeccably proper, as if eating chocolate in bushes were a noble French pastime.

“I even brought a mat,” he added. “But the wind was strong that day, so it blew away. Chocolate didn’t, though. Chocolate’s heavier.”

Snape opened his mouth to say something, but his throat tightened. Not out of anger this time. He genuinely didn’t know how to react to someone like this, Emilius Ravophine, as beautiful as a Greek statue, as brilliant as if Merlin himself had forged his mind, skilled in everything, a master at dueling… and yet, there he was, sitting in a bush, snacking, eavesdropping, enjoying the argument as if it were a play.

“You—”

“Don’t worry, I’m not telling anyone. It’s not my problem. I just… I think Lily Evans deserves a friend who respects her more. Don’t waste someone like that.”

Snape stared at him as if someone had just doused him with a bucket of ice water.

“…Who do you think you are?” he asked, voice sharp, though the slight tremor betrayed him.

“No one,” Emilius shrugged, popping another chocolate into his mouth.

“Just someone eating candy at the wrong time, in the wrong place. But even thinking with my knees, it’s obvious that Lily Evans is worth more than all your arrogant Slytherin you consider friends combined. So, since I still have a shred of decency, I’m giving you advice, Snape.”

Snape turned away, voice low and clipped: “My business is my own.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You should mind your own business with Black instead of poking into mine.”

“Firstly, you and Evans were the ones intruding on my snack spot from the start. Secondly, Black and I… we don’t get along. End of story.”

Snape curled a lip.

“Don’t get along? Yet he follows you everywhere.”

“That’s his problem.”

“Is that so?” Snape’s tone was tinged with sarcasm. “And what about the other night? You two seemed awfully cozy… you even let him press you against the wall.”

The air thickened suddenly, as if someone had cast a Petrificus Totalus in the room. Emilius lifted his head. His eyes, previously distracted as he deliberated between strawberry or mint chocolate, darkened instantly, cold, piercing, like a frozen winter lake.

Snape flinched slightly. Not from fear, but from that instinctive feeling: he’s just stirred something beautiful yet venomous.

“Oh,” Emilius said slowly, his tone unchanged but now unmistakably sharp, “so you’re one to observe from the shadows as well.”

Snape stiffened, a chill running down his spine. The half-joking, half-warning tone made it impossible to read Emilius’ thoughts.

“Just passing by,” Snape said, forcing a neutral tone. “I don’t make a habit of spying from bushes like someone else.”

“I was careless,” Emilius leaned back in his chair, eyes darkening. “Couldn’t guess his intentions. But as you see, Black has been lightly warned already.”

Snape rubbed his chin, voice dry. “An impressive scene. I’ll give you that.”

“But I think,” Snape continued, “if you don’t want him trailing you, you should make your stance clearer. This… half-measure of yours gives the wrong impression.”

“You talk as if it’s my responsibility to manage other people’s expectations.” Emilius yawned, eyes betraying extreme disdain.

“He’s disliked me since third year, you know that. Then he suddenly does all these weird things, no one expects him to take that sort of interest in me.”

And it had all started once Emilius’ true face was revealed. He knew exactly what kind of person Sirius Black was: lecherous, flirtatious, impulsive, arrogant, used to admiration, swarming like flies around honey.

Everyone at Hogwarts knew of his romantic exploits. The teasing, the glances, the flirtations, it was all routine. A game.

Sirius Black never liked Emilius Ravophine… until he saw his real face. The sudden intimacy, the half-jokes, lingering looks, teasing remarks, Emilius finally understood why.

But what irritated Emilius most wasn’t the flirting, it was the awful, infuriating thought that a tiny part of him, just a flicker, had once thought: Huh… maybe Black isn’t completely unbearable.

Just a moment.

And that alone was enough to make Emilius despise himself.

Because in the end… who truly sees him? Not this face, not the glow of grades, skill, or prestige. No one. They loved a perfect façade, a reflection born of beauty and mystery, and would discard it the moment they touched anything raw and real beneath.

Sirius Black was no exception.

————————-

Snow still clung to the train’s rooftops, but inside, warmth grew from woolen coats, murmured conversations, and faint breath fogging the windows.
Hayden had noticed from the moment they boarded: Pegasus’ skin, naturally pale, was even paler today. A scarf wrapped around his neck, yet he occasionally coughed softly, hands unconsciously rubbing the backs of his palms for warmth.

“You catching a cold?”

Pegasus looked up, caught as if sneaking candy.

“A little.” He admitted. “During the holidays, I went out throwing snow with cousins. A little overdoing”

“Oh, impressive. So you slapped yourself with that whole ‘anyone weak is a dog’ line from early winter, huh?”

Pegasus shrugged, eyes half-lidded like a very sleepy cat.

“Yeah. Guess that makes me the dog now.”
Hayden leaned his head against the train window. The afternoon sun lit his face, making him look slightly annoyed, but just slightly. He glanced over at Pegasus, sitting opposite with his legs propped up, lazily spinning his pumpkin juice glass like it was a fancy cocktail.

“And you’re not gonna explain anything else?” Hayden asked, voice stretched in the exact way someone does when trying to process a ridiculous amount of info from a brain that normally doesn’t keep secrets.

“There’s nothing else. Emil fell down a rabbit hole, almost became spider food, nearly fried his brain with some prophetic hallucination, opened a legendary wizard’s journal, and then ran off with Sirius through a portkey. That’s it.”

Hayden blinked.

“Uh… ‘that’s it’? Sounds like you went to buy bread and accidentally wandered into Narnia.”

Pegasus chuckled.

“I told you, it was a weird adventure. Sirius and Emil, two people nobody wants on the same team, fate shoved them into the same cage anyway.”

Hayden clicked his tongue, staring at his glass.

“If I were Emil, I’d just stay in the cave and sleep rather than go with that annoying buttface.”

“That annoying buttface, ironically, is the one who pulled Emilius out of a near-death situation,” Pegasus said, stretching his legs.

“You know, hearing Emilius’ story gave me chills. Pale as a sheet, eyes wide, completely frozen. Without Sirius, he’d probably still be lying there staring at the treasure ceiling.”

“Yeah. But I’m still shocked you hid that you’re an Animagus. ‘Not a big deal’? We’ve been friends for eight years!”

Pegasus grimaced, but smirked. Then, lowering his voice like he remembered a juicy detail:

“By the way… Sirius seems really worried about Emilius.”

Hayden looked up. “You mean… worried how?”

Pegasus nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as he recalled the key detail.

“Emilius said that when he fainted, he woke up to Sirius practically clinging to his shoulders, eyes red, shouting like he losing his mind.”

Hayden’s eyes went wide. “No way.”

“Not joking. Emilius said he woke up pinned down, being shaken like crazy. And the way Sirius looked at him… I’d bet he didn’t even realize he was crying.”

“Oh my god.” Hayden buried his face in his hands, laughing until it hurt.

“I never thought I’d see Sirius Black fall into the cliché of ‘I hate this person but they’re in danger so my heart breaks.’”

Pegasus grinned. “Yeah. And you know how Emilius reacted?”

“How?”

“‘You’re sitting on my fucking chest.’”

A moment of silence.

Then Hayden doubled over laughing, almost spilling his drink. “Legendary! Seriously, legendary! He wakes up mid near-death experience and still manages to throw shade!”

Pegasus shook his head. “I don’t get how they survived without killing each other along the way.”

Hayden chuckled some more, then exhaled, staring lazily out the window. “And if what’s in that journal is true… looks like we’ve got bigger problems than all Potions homework combined.”

Pegasus nodded, expression briefly serious, then softening like clouds drifting by.

“Ponyyyy~ Finally found you!”

The compartment door burst open, and James Potter popped his head in like someone escaping a prison.
Before Pegasus could even turn, he was engulfed in a warm, enthusiastic hug.

“Missed you so much!”

Pegasus didn’t move. Face calm, but goosebumps rising.

“Let go.” His voice flat, cold as ice.

James grinned like summer sunshine. “I’m serious! Without you these past few days, the group was practically flavorless!”

“Well, go find a jar of pickles then.”

Remus followed, shaking his head at that comment.
“He didn’t even go look for Lily Evans. All his energy went into finding you.”

Pegasus raised an eyebrow, holding James’ gaze a beat longer. Something in his eyes softened slightly. He didn’t push away, but didn’t hug back either.

James seized the opportunity, snuggling a little closer, grinning mischievously.

“I know you care about me.”

Finally, James let go, but still leaned close on the seat beside Pegasus. Remus sat opposite, glancing at Hayden, then at Pegasus.

“Talking about Sirius?” Remus asked.

“Yeah, talking about him and Emilius. They’re stuck together like melted taffy.”

Remus muttered, “Terrifying image.”

James propped his chin on his hand, eyes sparkling with gossip anticipation.

“If they actually become a couple, Hogwarts has some serious tea this year.”

“What do you mean ‘if’?” Remus laughed. “Sirius is about to explode any moment now.”

James was still buzzing with excitement.

“I’m telling you, this time Sirius seems serious. I’ve never seen him stick with someone this long since school started.”

Pegasus said nothing, sipping his pumpkin juice. After a moment, he exhaled.

“How attached doesn’t matter. The question is whether he’s serious.”

James looked surprised. “You think Sirius isn’t serious?”

Pegasus glanced at James, then back out the window.

“I know his type. Interest is temporary. Holding on, that’s another matter.”

James waved his hand.

“Hey, hey, give him a chance. This time it’s real feelings!”

“Sirius goes where he wants, leaves when bored. With others, doesn’t care. But Emilius isn’t someone to experiment with emotions.”

Remus nodded, gaze softening.

“You’re worried Ravophine might get hurt.”

“I have reason to be. Emil’s been through a lot this year, and Sirius took a liking to him as soon as his face was revealed? Do you think I’d just believe that’s genuine?”

Remus fell silent. His gaze lingered on Pegasus longer than usual, and even James’ smile faded.

“Yeah… I see your point.”

“But saying that doesn’t change anything. Sirius is the type that pushes harder when blocked.”

“So I don’t block him,” Pegasus replied immediately. “I just observe. And if needed, I’ll protect Emilius.”

“Same here,” Hayden added. “There’s no way Black suddenly snatches Emil from us, dream on.”

Remus laughed.

“Poor Padfoot, first time liking someone for real and getting the full bodyguard combo…”

James ran a hand through his hair.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re about to witness a full-on dramatic love story unfold…”

James was about to tease, like always, but froze when he noticed Pegasus’ hand trembling slightly on his cup, fingers gripping so tightly they were white.

“Hey… you okay?”

Pegasus blinked, pulled his hand away from the cup.

“Yeah. Just a light cold.”

“When did you catch a cold?” James frowned.

Hayden answered. “During the holidays, he got dragged outside by cousins to throw snow nonstop. Probably froze a bit.”

James studied Pegasus for a moment, then silently rummaged in the overhead compartment. He pulled out a familiar red-and-gold striped scarf, a little crumpled from being stuffed in, but still carrying the warmth of dry wood and butterbeer candy.

“Sitting there shivering like a wet chicken. Poor thing.”

James mumbled, then leaned down, almost not giving Pegasus a chance to resist, and draped the scarf around his neck.

Pegasus tried to push it away, but James was faster, tying it neatly like a mother hen fussing over her child.

“There, looks perfect, right?”

“This… is yours.”

“So? I was fine without it. You weren’t.”

Pegasus stayed silent, fingers lightly brushing the edge of the scarf. No further protest.

Across the seat, Hayden squinted, trying to suppress a laugh. Remus just lifted his eyes, glanced at Hayden, then at James, still fussing over the scarf, with a look that basically said, see that?

Hayden raised his brows, replying in equally clear unspoken terms:

Seems like Sirius is not the only idiot here.

——————————

He never forgot the first time he met Emilius .

That summer, Godric’s Valley was bathed in sunlight, with grass reaching almost to knee height. He remembered clearly: the field stretched to the horizon, where the light seemed to dissolve into the air, soft and warm, like a mother’s breath soothing a child to sleep. He was just a four year old, scampering after the neighbor’s cat, when he stumbled into that sea of swaying grass.

And then, amidst the green sprinkled with gold, the boy appeared, as if stepped right out of a fairy tale.

Golden hair like fresh sunlight tumbled over his forehead, and his eyes were the green of meadow grass. He stood in the middle of the field, holding a blade of grass and whistling softly. When he saw him, he tilted his head, curiosity lighting up his gaze.

“You’re lost?” His voice was clear as a bell, and he was almost a head taller. He bent slightly, hands on hips, tapping his shoulder theatrically: “Don’t worry. I’ll take you back.”

He furrowed his brow. “How old are you?”

He blinked. “Four!”

He placed his hands on his hips. “Me too!”

The golden-haired boy froze. He looked him over from head to toe, astonished, as if he had pulled off some spectacular trick. Then he burst out laughing, a crisp, bright sound like droplets of sunlight shattering on the grass.

“Really? Sorry, you are so tiny.”

He introduced himself as Emilius Ravophine, a name he couldn’t remember at the time, so he told him to just call him Emil.

Emil knew everything. He knew where the squirrel holes were, which bugs hurt the most, which plants were edible, which ones would leave a rash. But he never bragged. He just guided him across the fields, explaining things like a patient, cheerful older brother.

When he was scared, Emil held his hand. When he fell, Emil brushed off the dirt, teasing, “you look like a little potato.” When he lost a pretty stone he had just found, Emil searched until late afternoon to return it.

Once, during a heavy rain, they took shelter under an abandoned hut by the stream. Emil wrapped his jacket around both of them and told stories of wizards in a voice he made up himself, absurd tales about a talking cat, a wand growing from a hazelnut shell, and a hill that could… breathe. He understood very little, but just watching him speak made him want to listen forever.

They shared secrets only the two of them knew: a hiding spot beneath a willow tree, a wooden box of multicolored pebbles Emil collected for him every afternoon, and lullabies Emil invented to sing when it rained. Every night before parting to go home, he would hold Emil’s hand and plead,

“Promise you’ll play with me tomorrow too?”

And Emil would always answer, without hesitation:

“Of course. See you tomorrow.”

Later, he would think that if anything could be called destiny, it was that feeling.

Emil always looked at him as if he were the most miraculous thing in the world. Emil never left him out of any game, never laughed at him when he cried after a fall, or when he was scared of the dark. Emil stroked his hair whenever he had nightmares, whispering solemnly,

“I’ll protect you. Forever.”

Once, while lying on the roof gazing at the stars, Emil turned to him with absolute certainty:

“When we grow up, I’ll marry you.”

He didn’t understand exactly what “marry” meant. All he knew was that if it meant being together forever, then he agreed. He nodded hard.

“Yes. Me too.”

And they both laughed into the night sky, as if signing a sacred pact that the universe itself had to witness.

Back then, the world was simple. As long as Emil was there, everything felt complete.

Later, he learned Emil’s father was a renowned wizard, and that their families had known each other long before. From that first meeting in Godric’s Valley, the two quickly became inseparable, as if they were born to find each other.

————————-

Pegasus Grey appeared the summer he turned five.

A boy with flaming red hair, skin pale enough to glow like wax paper, skinny as a stick, and often sickly. But despite his fragile frame, Pegasus was as mischievous as anyone, crawling under tables, climbing trees, swinging on ropes, spying on the kitchen ladies like a tiny secret agent.

He entered Emil’s life like a gust of wind and simply stayed.

The first time he met Pegasus, he didn’t like him. Not for any clear reason, simply because… he existed.

Pegasus naturally stepped into the afternoons that had once belonged solely to the two of them. He climbed the roofs where he and Emil had once counted stars. He trampled the patches of grass that Emil had shown only to him. And then, one day, Emil laughed at Pegasus imitating an owl, a laugh that spread to the corners of his eyes, a sound that once seemed only his.

Every time Emil reached out to hold Pegasus’s hand, he felt a chill inside.

He was angry. Even though Pegasus had done nothing wrong. Even though Emil still played with him, still invited him to pick stones, still told stories on rainy nights. Even though Pegasus was kind, friendly, a boy impossible to dislike. Everything was almost the same, yet not entirely as before.

That night, the three of them lay on a pile of old blankets on the porch. Rain pattered down. Pegasus had fallen asleep at some point, hair matted to his forehead, looking unwell, though now he realized it happened often.

Emil turned to him. “Are you upset?”

He didn’t answer. Emil already knew his mixed feelings over the past few days since Pegasus had appeared.
Then Emil leaned closer.

“Hey, look at me.” He whispered, eyes as clear as ever.

“You’re still my number one. You know that, right?”

He looked at Emil. In the darkness, Emil’s gaze shone, serious as if speaking the most sacred truth in the world. Emil’s hand squeezed his, like the early days in the valley, when it had always been just the two of them.
He believed it. Not because Emil promised, but because throughout his childhood, no one had ever looked at him as Emil did, as if the world revolved only around him.

Tragedy struck like a black storm in the middle of a July afternoon.

Emil disappeared.

One morning, he had just invited him to the edge of the forest to map treasure spots; by noon, he was gone. No one knew where he had gone. No one.

Adults rushed around. Security was tightened. Strange names were whispered in panic: dark wizards, Death Eater sympathizers, child abductors. But none of it reached him.

Because Emil was gone.

He screamed, desperate to find Emil, wanting to go after him. People tried to pull him back, coaxing him gently. But he understood. He understood Emil was in danger. He understood he might be scared, tied up, cold, in pain. And no one let him go.

Three days. Three nights.

He neither ate, nor slept, nor laughed. He just sat on the windowsill, holding Emil’s cat close.

And then Emil was rescued.

But he couldn’t see him.

They said Emil needed time. Needed rest. Needed to avoid… everyone.

He pleaded. He cried. He made a scene. But it was useless.

Only much later, on a gray, cloudy afternoon, was he allowed to visit.

Emil’s parents led him to a special rest area within the Ravophine estate, where Emil was “recovering.” The room was clean, spacious, smelling faintly of herbs. Emil sat there by the window, silent. Pale light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his shoulders.
And he was wearing oversized dark glasses.
Not prescription glasses, Emil had never needed them.

“Emil?” His voice trembled, almost breaking.

Emil turned slightly, hesitated, then forced a faint, fragile smile, like sunlight struggling through rain.

“Sorry… did I make you worry?”

He said nothing. He just ran forward, hugging him tightly, afraid that if he let go, Emil might vanish again.

Emil returned the hug, but lightly, as if his arms no longer had strength. He gently stroked his back, just like always, whenever he wanted to calm him.

Emil said he was fine, but he knew there were wounds no one could see.

And Emil was no longer the bright sun of that summer afternoon.

——————

The memory of that summer, with Emil and the endless grassy fields, remained his last refuge. Even though Emil had changed, even though a quiet distance had grown between them, he still believed that one day, the light in those eyes would return.

But then, he lost his own light.

He was eight that year. He and his mother had returned to visit his maternal village, a tiny settlement tucked deep in the valley, so small it barely appeared on maps, remembered only by elderly witches seeking peace.
Until that day.

The sky unleashed a strange storm, dark as mud, the air tinged with a strange burnt scent mingled with the wind. Screams echoed from afar. His mother grabbed his hand and ran. He didn’t understand, only knew her eyes were wide, lips pressed tight to hold back tears.

“Sweetie listen. Don’t let go of my hand, understand?” That was the last thing she said to him.

Then they came. Black cloaks. White masks. Curses blazing red, tearing through the air like blood.

A flash of green light.

And his mother fell right before his eyes.

Everything after that shattered. He couldn’t remember how he screamed, how he clutched her, or who dragged him away from her cold, broken body. Only one thing remained clear: the smell of smoke, the scent of blood, and a paralyzing helplessness.

They said it was a group of exiled Death Eaters. Random acts. Not aimed at anyone in particular. Simply sowing fear.

But to him, nothing was “random.”

They had killed his mother.

They had destroyed everything.

And that was enough to plant a deep chasm in his heart, a nameless rage, a simmering grudge no one could touch or remove.

From that moment on, anything marked by the Dark Arts, he despised. Dark green like venomous snakes. Symbols of pure-blooded, noble lineage. Whispers of “ancient traditions,” of power and prestige.

All of it made him want to vomit.

Including Slytherin.

No one could soothe him with the argument, “Not all are like that.” No one could tell him not to generalize. To him, there was no distinction. His mother’s blood still stained his memory red; the smell of smoke and ash clung to his nightmares each night.

He began studying the Death Eaters. Memorizing names, recounting events. Flipping through old records, questioning adults, following magical news reports.

And in his young heart, a quiet hatred ignited, directed at everything that represented darkness.

He returned on a rainy early September day, small and lost inside a wide, dark cloak. His face hollowed, eyes sunken, silent as though his very soul had been drained.

And Emil rushed forward to embrace him.

He said nothing. He just held him. Tight. As if afraid he too would vanish like the nightmare that had just passed. He buried his face in his shoulder, whispering soft, fragmented reassurances:

“I’m here now,” “I’m so sorry,”…

He did not cry. Could not cry.

He stood still, letting Emil hold him. His small hands clutched the hem of Emil’s cloak, a last grasp on the one thing the world had not yet taken from him.

————

After things had begun to settle, he started noticing a change. A new name was appearing in Emil’s stories.

Hayden.

At first, it was only in passing, like a minor character not worth paying attention to.

“Oh, Hayden was there too.”

“He gave me this weird looking stone, it looked so funny.”

Then one day, Emil and Pegasus brought Hayden along to meet him.

The sky was crystal clear that day, sunlight glinting off the flagstones of the courtyard. He was sitting on the steps, rereading old books long untouched.

“This is Hayden,” Emil said, pulling Hayden forward. “Our new friend.”

Hayden greeted him, awkwardness written all over his face. His big blue eyes looked at him cautiously.

“Hayden has this really fun game,” Pegasus said excitedly. “You put fake beards on the scarecrows in the garden and rig candy traps, if you grab the candy, your hand gets stuck!”

“You can try it too,” Emil added, holding out a handful of sparkling, color-shifting candies, trick sweets he’d bought from a playful witch’s shop in the village.

He looked between the three of them, then at the candies.

They stood close together, natural, like a group who had been playing together for years. Emil whispered something to Hayden, making him giggle, while Pegasus tried fitting a fake beard to his chin as if performing a demonstration.

“I’m not going,” he said quietly, returning to his book. “I want to finish this today.”

Emil hesitated a moment but didn’t insist.

The three left, their giggles trailing into the garden. He stayed on the steps, head bowed, clutching his book tightly, whether from anger, sadness, or some sharp pang in his chest, he couldn’t tell.

It wasn’t jealousy.

It was fear.

Fear that Emil was slowly stepping out of the world they had built together.

He had once thought that after everything, it would be enough if Emil simply held his hand.

But now… even that hand was being shared with someone else.

And then, Hogwarts. A name all the children’s childhoods had looked to like a fairy-tale kingdom. But when he finally arrived, it brought only a sense of unease.

The Sorting Ceremony.

He had assumed Emil would go to Ravenclaw, or Gryffindor. Even Hufflepuff would have been fine. Emil never cared about “houses,” he had said. He was not ambitious, not competitive, the name “Slytherin” had never attached to him in Dracy’s imagination.

Yet…

The Sorting Hat didn’t even hesitate. The moment it touched Emil’s head, it spoke clearly:

“Slytherin!”

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. Emil turned to him, smiling, the familiar smile. But the smile did nothing to melt the icy chill running down his spine.

Emil stepped down and joined the Slytherin table, the newly donned cloak glinting with the silver serpent emblem.

His chest ached.

Pegasus—Gryffindor.

Hayden—Hufflepuff.

He—Ravenclaw.

And Emil… outside of it all.

———————-

“Dracy!”

He froze. He didn’t want to stop, but his legs betrayed him, as if some part of him could not refuse that voice. Emil’s voice.

He ran forward, breath ragged, hair slightly tousled.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Emil asked, worried. “Did I do something wrong?”

He stayed silent. He was afraid; if he spoke, nothing could be fixed anymore.

“Are you mad at me?”

He turned away, intending to move on, but Emil stepped directly in front of him.

“Dracy, you have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Step aside.” His voice was icy, even startling himself. This was the first time he had ever shown such an attitude to anyone, and it was Emil.

Emil didn’t move. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“Because you went to Slytherin!” he shouted, making a few owls in the high hall flap in alarm.

Emil froze. “So what? Any house—”

“No, Emil. Not all houses are the same. Not to me.” He stared into Emil’s eyes, his own shining with pain he struggled to contain.

“You know how my mother died. You know what I hate, who I hate.”

“Dracy, I’m not—”

“But you’re wearing that cloak!” he nearly screamed, jabbing a finger at the silver serpent badge on Emil’s chest. “Every dark wizard in history came from there. Even if you’re not like them, you’re part of that damned place!”

A cold draft swept through the corridor, tugging at both their robes.

“You really think that?” Emil asked, voice trembling between hurt and disbelief. “Because of a name, because of a house, you’re ready to throw everything away?”

Dracy turned away.

Not because he didn’t want to respond. But because if he looked at Emil for even one more second, he would break.

But Emil didn’t let him escape.

He stepped forward, voice sharpening, raw and wounded.

“What did I do to make you think I’m like them? What did I ever do to deserve this, Dracy?”

Dracy still didn’t turn, though his shoulders twitched.
“Just because I was sorted into Slytherin? That’s enough for you to toss everything between us aside?” Emil’s voice rose, nearly cracking. “Is that all our friendship meant to you?! Just that much?!”

Dracy’s nails dug into his palms until it hurt.
Emil moved closer, eyes blazing with a fury Dracy had never seen in him before.

“Look at me! Look me in the eye and say it again!”

Dracy turned, and at that exact moment, Emil’s hand jerked upward. Not to strike, but as if anger had snapped free without warning, an instinctive, conflicted gesture.

“Emil!!” Hayden’s panicked shout sliced through the air as he rushed in, grabbing Emil’s arm.

Pegasus came barreling in from the adjacent hallway, wedging himself between them.

“Stop it! Both of you, are you out of your minds?!”

Pegasus gasped, gripping Emil’s shoulders. “Fight if you want, but don’t lose your bloody heads!”

Emil staggered back, chest heaving. His face had gone pale, his shoulders shaking.

Both Hayden and Pegasus stared at Dracy, because while Emil trembled with barely contained emotion, Dracy’s expression had become empty. Cold. Disgustingly unaffected.

“We have nothing left to say.”

He turned away.

“Goodbye, Ravophine.”

————————

“Dracy… wake up. We’re here.”

A familiar voice tugged him from sleep. He blinked, disoriented for a moment. The warmth of a dream, or rather, an old memory, clung faintly to him, sweet and painful.

A dream of summers long gone.

Of afternoons full of laughter.

Of the blond boy who once was his whole sky.
A cold gust seeped through the train door. His housemates chattered excitedly, pulling down luggage.

He rubbed his eyes, shrugged on his cloak, and stood.
Outside, night had fallen completely. Snow coated the platform in pale sheets, and the students’ cloaks whipped wildly in the wind. Against the dark sky, Hogwarts loomed like a fortress carved from starlight, windows glowing warm amidst the black.

He stepped off the train with his housemates, nodding absently at their chatter, none of which he bothered to listen to. Not far away, he spotted Pegasus’s bright red hair and Hayden beside him, accompanied by James Potter and Remus Lupin.

No Sirius Black.

And no—

Well. No him.

This was the first year Emilius Ravophine was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Sirius Black was staying too. It couldn’t be coincidence, Black never strayed far from James Potter.

Dracy knew they didn’t get along, Black and his group loathed Slytherin. But ever since the day Ravophine’s “real face” was exposed, and Sirius stepped in to stop a brawl between him and the Slytherins, and since Sirius let the wrong sentence slip during breakfast , the school had exploded with rumors.

Sirius Black likes Emilius Ravophine.

Likes.

One word.

One stupid, wretched word.

Yet it clawed through Dracy’s chest like broken glass.
Once, Dracy had believed he was the center of Emil’s world. Childhood best friend. Soulmate. Everything. Emil once said he would marry him someday, though they’d been children then, barely understanding the words.
And even now, when everything between them had shattered, Dracy still believed… he was the only one capable of hurting Emil that deeply. Being the one Emil hated most—

That, too, was a way to stay rooted in someone’s heart.
Wasn’t it?

But now there was Sirius Black.

That name wrapped itself beside Emilius’s in whispered gossip across the school, mostly from the girls, half admiring, half wistful. Most agreed they’d make a dazzling pair if it ever became true.

Dracy never asked. Never commented. Never reacted.

He just swallowed the tight, choking pressure in his throat and ignored every conversation that dared mention their names together.

Because Dracy knew the truth, he still had feelings for Emilius.

Not the childish kind anymore.

But something heavier. Deeper. More painful.

And far, far too late.

Chapter Text

The Great Hall buzzed with life again, just like it always did on the first night after the holiday break. Snow was still drifting softly outside the tall windows, each white flake settling onto the castle roofs and cloaking everything in silence. But inside, Hogwarts was warm and bright with candlelight and lively chatter.

Pegasus poked miserably at the watery pumpkin soup in front of him. After an entire holiday stuffed full of meat dishes to the point of delirium, the lavish feast laid out tonight only made him queasy. Coupled with the cold that had been tormenting him, he had no appetite at all, he’d only managed a bit of chocolate on the train earlier.

Of course, this pitiful display didn’t escape James. Even while he was laughing uproariously with his bonded-for-life brother Sirius after weeks apart, he still turned to jab lightly at Pegasus.

“Want me to feed you, my dear Pony? You look like you need some motivation to wrestle that soup.”

“No, thanks.”

James pretended not to hear, scooped a massive chunk of stew meat, and plopped it right into Pegasus’ soup. The boy’s face twisted into utter disgust.

“You need to eat, mate. You’re sick, how are you supposed to survive on a few mouthfuls of soup?”

“Just looking at that lump of meat is enough to kill me already.”

Things between the two were normal again by now, so Pegasus didn’t bother protesting when James plopped himself down right beside him at the table.

He glanced over to the Slytherin table but didn’t spot Emilius anywhere.

James Potter turned to say something to Remus Lupin, then suddenly stopped short.

“Well, well. There’s your heartbreaker, Pony.”

And sure enough: Emilius. He shuffled toward the Slytherin table, yawning like he’d just wandered back from another realm. His long golden hair, now past his shoulders, had been haphazardly tied into a messy knot that looked like a bird’s nest, with a wand sticking out of it. His robes were wrinkled, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone.

James stared.

“Rare to see Ravophine looking this wrecked.”

But James had to begrudgingly admit that even wrecked, the damn Ravophine boy still looked absurdly breaktaking. The messier he appeared, the more heads he turned, girls from all four houses were staring blatantly as he walked in.

Emilius, of course, noticed none of this. He let out another dramatic yawn and plopped into an empty seat, right across from Sirius’ little brother. Regulus looked positively delighted and greeted him immediately; Emilius responded with a few sleepy nods, clearly still half-asleep.

Pegasus smirked.

“Yeah, ever since his ‘real face’ got exposed… he’s given up on being decent.”

The more he seemed to sabotage his own charm, the worse it backfired. Emil had somehow become even more devastatingly attractive with that careless, half-feral look.

“Messy or not, people are still dying over him. Right, Padfoot~?”

A grin stretched across James Potter’s face as he poked fun at his best friend, jerking his chin toward the Slytherin table, where Emilius was propping his chin on one hand, poking at his potatoes as if they’d personally betrayed him.

“Not funny, Prongs.”

Sirius snapped irritably, making all three boys stare at him.

“What’s wrong with you now?”

James shoved his face right up to Sirius’, nearly making him choke.

“Bloody hell, Prongs! Your breath reeks of garlic!”

Sirius still hadn’t told anyone about how he’d tried to act smug and flirtatious with Emilius, only to get countered so thoroughly he wished he’d evaporated on the spot. Remus had warned him from the start: if he liked someone, he should court them properly. But after nearly dying on their last adventure, he’d forgotten all that and gone back to teasing the boy instead.

He couldn’t even look at Pegasus’ narrowed, suspicious eyes. Judging by that expression, Ravophine definitely hadn’t told him anything. If he had, Sirius wouldn’t be sitting here alive and intact.

Remus chimed in,

“Why so grumpy, Sirius? How’d your progress over the break go?”

Sirius avoided all their eyes and glanced toward the messy blond head over at the Slytherin table.

Ever since that day, Ravophine hadn’t bothered to look at him. Not exactly avoiding him… just acting like they’d reset to the beginning, when Ravophine treated him like thin air, and Sirius hated him. Only this time, the feeling wasn’t hate anymore.

Just when things had finally become a little less tense between them after that near-death escapade, Sirius himself ruined it.

He muttered,

“…Didn’t go anywhere.”

----------------------

The Room of Requirement appeared in a warm glow: a crackling fireplace, sagging armchairs, and beside them a small tea table already set with a plate of ginger biscuits because someone had said they were craving them. A faint scent of cinnamon drifted in the air, while snow outside still refused to stop falling.

Emilius arrived last, looking as though he still hadn’t fully woken up. His wand had slipped out of the messy bun he’d stuck it into, letting all that tangled hair fall around his shoulders again, and he didn’t bother tying it back or fixing it.

Hayden was nibbling ginger biscuits when Emilius stepped inside, while Pegasus had just swallowed a dose of cold medicine and immediately stuffed a biscuit into his mouth afterwards to chase away the lingering nausea.

Hayden glanced up.

“What knocked you out so hard you almost skipped dinner?”

“Wasn’t planning to. But before you guys came back, I played chess with Snape. Uh… five rounds, then he said my playing was so stupid it insulted him, got offended, so I got bored, closed my eyes for a bit, and, yeah. I passed out.”

One second of silence.

Then the two idiots burst out laughing.

“He thought you were throwing the match on purpose?”

“Yeah. I told him I’m actually bad at it but the bloke didn’t believe me.”

Pegasus wheezed with laughter.

“Gods, seriously, everything you’re good at, yet you play chess like a dying slug in a hat. No wonder Snape didn’t buy it.”

“Normal people think three moves ahead. You mess up on the first. Losing is the only possible outcome, ha!”

Hayden held his stomach, trying to breathe, then glanced up at Emilius’s confused, sleepy face and started laughing again. Emilius’s terrible chess skills were legendary. Hayden didn’t consider himself smart in any way, but even he had never once lost to Emilius.

The boy just… never won. At all. But he still likes playing. Even when the two of them deliberately made blunders to let him catch up, Emilius somehow still managed to lose spectacularly.

Maybe all his intelligence and talent had gone into everything else, leaving exactly one flaw behind as cosmic balance: being unbelievably horrible at chess.

Pegasus laughed so hard a coughing fit hit him, making him choke. Hayden quickly reached over to rub his back. Emilius frowned.

“You’re sick again?”

“Kh—no—just—kh—”

Hayden finished for him.

“He caught a chill. His cousins dragged him out for a snowball fight during the holidays.”

“Honestly. Weak as a kitten and still out in the cold.”

Emilius flicked his wand; the fire roared up twice as bright. He was about to start lecturing when Pegasus, now sitting upright without Hayden’s help, lifted a hand to cut him off.

“Zip it. One more word and I swear I’ll turn into a horse and kick you both out the window. It’s a cold. Not fatal.”

Emilius and Hayden exchanged a look, then shook their heads. They both knew the redhead hated being treated like he was fragile. And it was just a cold, so Emilius let it go.

He walked to a corner of the room, pulling out his Morningstar broom and the broom–care kit. Slytherin’s team was resuming practice the next day, and earlier, as Emilius left the Great Hall, the captain had informed him, in his usual rigid face, that he had better show up on time.

The Morningstar broom had been a gift from his parents when he made the team in third year. It used to be one of the best models available, though newer ones had come out since then. Still, Emilius stayed loyal to his.

“Your broom kit looks ancient. Barely does anything anymore.”

Pegasus inspected it, noting how often Emilius had to maintain the broom with how heavily he trained and played every season.

Emilius began taking out the tools, setting to work.

“Yeah, I planned to replace it, but after… you know… that, my dad cut off my allowance for three months. Three! Can you believe how cruel that is?”

“I thought your parents weren’t mad?”

“They weren’t. But according to my mum, I still have to take responsibility for my actions.”

“Fair. Getting punished through your wallet actually hurts.”

Pegasus clicked his tongue.

“If I’d known earlier, I would’ve sent you a new kit for Christmas.”

“No. That breaks the rules.”

Emilius shot back immediately.

A proper broom-care set wasn’t cheap, but of course, for the prestigious, wealthy Grey family, money was never an issue. Heaven knew how much Pegasus had to restrain himself because both Emilius and Hayden had established a shared rule: for birthdays, Christmas, special occasions, or any random nonsense, no gift could exceed three galleons.

And honestly, both Hayden and Emilius also came from well-off families, Hayden’s father had a high ranking Ministry position, and Emilius… well, everyone knew his father’s name. But the Ravophine household didn’t spoil their kid despite their wealth. Pegasus nearly fainted when he learned Emilius got a relatively modest monthly allowance that he had to budget carefully, and his parents refused to indulge him unless it was truly necessary.

Case in point: the Morningstar broom. When Emilius made the Quidditch team, his father bought him the best model available, one usually only pros used. And yet weeks later Pegasus and Hayden were speechless watching Emilius, owner of the fanciest broom in school, longingly eye the newest Honeydukes candy but refusing to buy it due to overspending his allowance that month.

So really, Emilius was the “poor kid” of the trio.

“And that watch was perfect, by the way. Nothing beats Black’s miserable face with bunny ears on Christmas morning.”

“Oh, wonderful,” a dry voice said. “Glad my humiliation brings you joy.”

The three froze, then whipped their heads around to see Sirius Black. Behind him were James Potter and Remus Lupin. Emilius stiffened, hands halting midair over the broom kit.

Sirius, seeing those death, green eyes aimed at him, lifted both hands innocently.

“Don’t look at me like that, Ravophine. I swear I didn’t say a word. Pony spilled it.”

Emilius turned to the redhead. Pegasus scratched his cheek.

“…We weren’t supposed to talk about it?”

James Potter, beaming, flopped down casually beside Pegasus and looped an arm around him like hugging a plushie.

“Gotta share, Ravophine. Besides, even if you hide it, with Sirius’ talent for disaster, every secret finds daylight anyway.”

“Oi.”

Pegasus, used to James’ clinginess, didn’t react. Remus settled beside them, speaking gently.

“Come on, it’s too late to keep it quiet now. Besides, if we’re dealing with a journal belonging to Basil Wyndham, more eyes on it is actually better.”

Emilius’s expression darkened.

He hesitated for a second, weighing something, then slowly set the broom kit on the table. From inside his robes, he drew out an object wrapped carefully in worn cloth.

Basil Wyndham’s journal.

He opened to the first page. Everyone leaned in.

“I have seen it.

I do not know when, where, or how.

But it will come.”

Silence settled heavily over the room, broken only by the pop of burning wood. Emilius and Sirius weren’t surprised, they had skimmed the thing in that cave. Remus frowned deeper and flipped through more pages. The further he went, the worse the writing became: chaotic, slanted, many parts completely unreadable, like the ramblings of someone sleepwalking. Sentences were incomplete; words lost cohesion. Entire pages were filled with frantic scribbles: circles, gates, pairs of large, hollow eyes staring out as if ready to swallow the viewer whole.

James scratched his chin.

“Yeah… does anyone understand any of this?”

Sirius snatched the journal, inspecting it under the firelight, flipping it back and forth as if waiting for it to magically translate itself.

“Nope. I can’t even tell what language half this is. Professors might be able to decode it, but…”

Hayden leaned his cheek on his palm.

“What if… it’s some kind of cipher?”

“No,” Remus shook his head immediately. “If it were, there would be repeated patterns or some underlying logic. This—” he pointed to an especially messy line, “—even the characters themselves are unstable, like the writer was losing control of his mind.”

Pegasus murmured, sounding sleepy, his cold medicine must’ve kicked in:

“Maybe that old wizard was just going mad…”

To be honest, that possibility may be true.

---------------------------

At last, when the clock gave a sharp little tick at midnight, Pegasus, exhausted from fever and cold medicine, passed out the sofa, mumbling something like, “Prophecy my ass…” before knocking out completely.

The six of them had spent the entire evening poring over the diary without gaining a single useful clue.

Remus carefully closed the worn leather cover and handed it back to Emilius.

“Let’s leave it for now. At least it’s not threatening anyone’s life yet.”

Sirius exhaled in relief.

“Yeah. Old man Wyndham might’ve seen the future, but he sure as hell didn’t write any of it clearly.”

Emilius leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the diary lying motionless on the table. No one, not even Hayden, could guess what was running through his head. James draped an extra cloak over Pegasus, wrapping the redhead up like a cocoon before lifting him in his arms, muttering something about how the idiot somehow got even skinnier over the holidays. Remus stood as well.

“We’ve gotta go. Early class tomorrow.”

Hayden eyed the cocoon in James’s arms.

“Yeah, thanks for hauling him back. Emil, let’s head out before we run into Filch.”

No answer. Hayden turned and gently tapped Emilius on the shoulder. The boy looked up.

“Hm?”

“You coming?”

“Oh. Yeah. You go first, I just… need a minute.”

Hayden hesitated. He’d known Emilius long enough to sense something was weighing heavily on him. But with the three Gryffindors still here, and with the exhaustion of the train ride dragging at his bones, he didn’t press. He turned and left.

One by one, the others slipped out of the room, footsteps fading into the empty corridor.

Two remained.

Emilius didn’t move. His eyes stayed on the diary. He heard the door close. Heard slow, deliberate footsteps approaching.

“Ravophine,” Sirius said softly behind him.

Emilius didn’t turn.

“A few days ago…” Sirius hesitated. “I… I’m sorry.”

A faint crease formed between Emilius’s brows. He remembered that day in the empty corridor, Sirius Black pinning him to the wall, half teasing, half something else, voice sweet but a seriousness burning in his eyes.

Sirius let out a breath , almost a self-mocking huff.

“I shouldn’t have cornered you like that… And I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Another pause.

“But I wasn’t joking, Ravophine. I actually want to pursue you.”

The air seemed to thicken.

Emilius slowly turned to face him.

In the dim, flickering light, he could see it, the sincerity in Sirius’s eyes. Not the loud, effortless charm he showed the world, but something real, stripped raw.

“I know you don’t trust me easily,” Sirius said quietly.

“And I know… I’m far from ideal. But I'm serious about it.”

Silence settled between them. The fireplace crackled somewhere in the distance, flames casting shadows of their figures onto the wall, almost close enough to touch.

Emilius stared at Sirius for a long moment. His unreal, almost sculpted features revealed nothing, only the shifting light across his cheekbones. Then he turned away, eyes falling back to the flames dancing in the hearth. Sirius held his breath, not daring to interrupt.

A moment later, Emilius spoke, voice calm, flat, emotionless.

“Black, you know people gossip that my mother was part Veela, right?”

Sirius frowned, thrown off by the sudden shift. Emilius didn’t look at him, gaze locked on the fire.

“They’re wrong. She was a full-blooded Veela. Which means half that blood runs in me.”

Sirius’s mouth opened slightly, but Emilius turned, eyes sharp, cutting through him like glass.

“So,” he said, each word gliding off a cold blade, “what you think is ‘interest’ in me… is just Veela charm messing with your head.”

Sirius froze.

“That’s part of why I wear enchanted glasses, to dull the effect. I know exactly how this works, Black. Don’t mistake enchantment for real feelings.”

His voice never wavered.

“And trust me, you’ll realise it soon enough.”

“Because you didn’t actually like me to begin with.”

He walked past Sirius without looking back.

------------------

The next morning, Hogwarts lay beneath a pale layer of mist, the air biting cold against exposed skin. Emilius pulled his cloak tight, gripping his broom as he made his way toward the Quidditch pitch. He spoke to no one, expression frozen into something unreadable.

On the field, the Slytherin team was already gathered. Alaster Carlos, their captain, stood in the damp grass, scowl etched into his face as always.

“Get over here!” he barked, voice slicing through the fog.

Once they formed a loose circle, Alaster shoved his wild blond hair back, letting his eyes sweep across the team. His gaze paused briefly on Emilius. Everyone except Regulus looked at the boy with thinly veiled irritation or disdain, but Emilius couldn’t care less. He knew exactly how valuable he was.

“We’re practicing seriously today,” Alaster snapped. “The match against Ravenclaw is set for the weekend. And here’s the latest: they switched players.”

A wave of murmurs spread through the group, predatory excitement flickering in Slytherin eyes.

“That Edmund kid, whatever his name was, broke his arm over the break.” Alaster smirked. “So they’re throwing a newbie into the field.”

“We’re going to exploit that,” he said. “But don’t get sloppy. I want blood. If possible, crush them before they know what’s happening.”

Emilius rolled his eyes at the chorus of eager snickers.

A team full of dirty-play addicts, none of them capable of winning with basic dignity.

Someone asked,

“So who’s the unlucky replacement?”

Alaster paused dramatically, sweeping his gaze across the circle before delivering the line with pure contempt:

“…That scrawny little bookworm, Dracy Gallard.”

Chapter Text

Emilius still remembered the first day he met Dracy.

Back then, he was only four years old, carefree, mischievous, never really thinking about anyone other than himself. Yet somehow, he had taken the initiative to speak to the small platinum haired child lost in the tall grass, and was surprised to find out that the kid was the same age as him.

And then, the tiny, doll-like platinum-haired child trotted after him through the knee high grass. From that moment, for the first time in his life, Emilius Ravophine felt something truly strange, not curiosity, not pity.

He wanted to protect this child. He wanted the child to always be happy, never cry, never get hurt.

Then…

"We have nothing more to say."

"Goodbye, Ravophine."

---------------------

"Dracy Gallard? Oh, that Ravenclaw Prefect? What’s he got to do with quidditch?"

"I don’t get it, that albino kid always looks like the wind’s about to blow him away."

"What are you expecting from those big-headed, near-sighted Ravenclaws? They don’t have any better options anyway. But an albino nerd? Pathetic.

"RAVOPHINE!"

Alaster bellowed.

"Why are you just standing there? Mount your broom or are you planning to stare at the clouds until noon?"

Emilius didn’t answer. He tightened his gloves, then stomped the ground hard. The broom sprang into the air, lifting him skyward, leaving behind a streak of cold wind and glaring eyes.

Why do I even remember that moment?

In the overcast sky, Emilius glided smoothly, eyes squinting against the sharp wind. He needed something to focus on, something to push away the chaos in his head.

After the day Dracy severed ties, Emilius had been furious. Both Hayden and Pegasus had thought he was about to hit Dracy. But how could he, when Dracy had always been a treasure in his heart since childhood?

So, a few days later, after calming down, Emilius still tried to talk, unwilling to accept such a foolish ending. Could their friendship really be less important than which House they were sorted into? Ridiculous.

Emilius was ready to swear that from first year to graduation, he wouldn’t associate with any Slytherin, as long as Dracy was willing to make up with him. Because back then, Dracy Gallard meant more to him than anything, even more than his pride.

The only one he wanted to protect.

Emilius had always thought they would stay like that. But then, lying together on the rooftop, Dracy’s tiny hand lost in his, soft, eyes reflecting the sparkling stars above, he had blurted out a heartfelt promise:

"When we grow up, I’ll marry you."

And Dracy laughed. He laughed. They were far too young to say such things. But Emilius knew, this platinum haired child before him was the only thing he truly wanted, and that would never change.

And what did he get in return?

Dracy ignored everything he said, even acting as if they had never met. When their housemates asked, Dracy concocted a brilliant lie: Emilius Ravophine was some kind of creepy stalker. And so everyone looked at Emilius as if he were some vile, despicable creature.

And that was the end. Just like that.

The one he had loved most, beyond friendship, had been willing to throw everything away, turning on him completely, leaving Emilius unable to trust anything anymore. He didn’t bother making friends with anyone, except Hayden and Pegasus; he no longer wanted to care about anything else.

Until Sirius Black entered his life.

Not that Emilius didn’t know him, Black and Potter had been the famous duo since first year, and Pegasus had gradually grown close to them, until they formed their own group, leading mischief across the school.

Unlike others who kept their distance because of his reputation as a “great wizard’s son,” Black openly provoked him. From their very first encounter on the Quidditch pitch, he didn’t even try to hide his glare of annoyance.

Maybe because Emilius played better. Maybe because he couldn’t stand Gryffindor losing to a “slippery little snake” like him in the opening match. But the real reason was simple: because he was a Slytherin.

Slytherin, dark wizard, evil by nature.

The same old reason.

The more time passed, the more hostile Black became. He constantly called him “that slippery snake who stole Pony.” The thing was, Black didn’t just talk, he acted. Always looking for ways to provoke, mock, and sabotage. Even though Emilius rarely bothered to respond, he clung like Emilius owed him the entire honor of the Black family.

Sometimes Emilius felt like that guy was a piece of half-chewed gum stuck on his shoe; annoying, persistent, the more you try to remove it, the more it stuck.

And now, he had the audacity to say he wanted to pursue him?

Emilius wanted to laugh out loud. Black, what the hell are you thinking? How dare you say that?

The same person who once looked at him with contempt, who had pointed a broom straight at him on the field for a duel, who nearly caused him to crash into a thorny willow, who exposed his secret, now claimed, “I truly want to pursue you.”

Ridiculous.

A shameless bastard.

“Perfect! Sixth goal in a row!”

Someone shouted excitedly as Emilius skillfully dodged a Bludger, then hurled the Quaffle straight into the goalposts again.

“Nice one, Ravophine! Keep up that momentum for the match!”

Alaster Carlos’s voice rang out from somewhere behind him, full of excitement, a stark contrast to the grim attitude from that morning. When Emilius looked up, he saw Regulus flying slightly above, giving him a thumbs-up.

--------------------

The night before.

Sirius tossed and turned, the pale moonlight streaming through the window failing to soothe the tension in his chest. He shifted on the bed, eyes wide in the dark, mind in turmoil. Emilius’s words lingered relentlessly in his thoughts:

“Just because of the charm of Veela blood, nothing more.”

Every time he recalled that line, it felt like a slap across his face. Sirius hated the feeling, a sensation he never thought he’d have to face. He kept asking himself: was Emilius telling the truth? Was everything he had felt just the effect of that perfect, enchanting face?

The feeling gnawed at him like a wolf in his stomach, painful, uncomfortable. Why? Why him? Why Emilius? Someone he had always considered an enemy, someone he had to compete against and confront, and now… someone he couldn’t pull away from.

Sirius remembered the past days. The way they constantly clashed, the biting words he had thrown at Emilius, the dirty tricks he had played to annoy him. He had seen him as a rival, someone to defeat in every game, every contest. And now, the truth was, he no longer felt that way. Instead, he felt desire.

The winter’s chill could not freeze the shame he felt. He felt foolish. Everything he had done before, all the pranks, the taunts, the aggressive moves, even if Emilius hadn’t had a trace of Veela blood as an excuse, Sirius would still have had no chance.

“How could I have been so stupid?” Sirius clenched the pillow tightly.

And now, with Emilius having rejected him, Sirius faced a reality he couldn’t accept. He felt trapped in a loop with no escape. He wanted to move forward, to change everything, but didn’t know how.

Then he recalled that night, the first time he saw Emilius walking through the Forbidden Forest at night. Back then, Emilius’s true face was still hidden behind his enchanted glasses, but Sirius had felt something different, something he never thought he’d feel for someone he considered a rival.

That night, under the moonlight glinting on Emilius’s golden hair, he couldn’t look away. In his eyes, Ravophine was no longer the arrogant, insufferable Slytherin he had hated, always wearing a look of indifference. He only saw a small, lonely boy.

Sirius couldn’t understand why he thought about Ravophine’s safety, why he wanted to make sure nothing happened to him in the dark that night. They were enemies, why should he care for someone like that? Yet the thoughts swirled in his mind, refusing to let go.

Looking back now, Sirius realized his heart had already changed, even before he had recognized it himself.

But now, everything was too late.

Sirius sat up, wildly pulling at his hair and scratching his scalp. But when he glanced over at James’s bed, he froze. Where was he?

Sirius looked around, then stepped off the bed, thinking: James must’ve gotten some wild idea at this hour… but if he did, why didn’t he tell me?

He stopped when he passed Pegasus Grey’s canopy bed. Through the gap, he saw James Potter tangled up on Pegasus’s bed, holding the red-haired boy close, their bodies intertwined like two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces.

“Wow.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d slept together like that. James was clingy and affectionate with close friends; he and James were almost inseparable, whether sleeping together, sitting in each other’s laps, wrapping arms around each other, even playful cheek kisses in front of others, none of it was anything unusual.

Within the group, Pegasus Grey was the smallest, his curly red hair and pale skin highlighting his fragility, yet like a blazing flame, he drew everyone’s attention, especially James Potter’s.

Even though James and Sirius had been close since stepping into Hogwarts, Pegasus held a unique sway over James. Sirius valued Pegasus, there was nothing to criticize there, and Remus agreed. But the truth was, Pegasus was the only one in the group who would openly oppose and restrain James whenever he bullied Snape or teased Slytherins.

And James, though resistant, wouldn’t dare mess with Snape or anyone else when Pegasus was around.

James Potter became a good little dog, obedient, whenever he was with Pegasus.

Anyone in Gryffindor could see how frantic and desperate James had been when Pegasus had stopped hanging out with them. He hadn’t even bothered with Lily; all he did was plead, apologize, abandoning any sense of pride, just to regain his friend’s forgiveness.

And, as expected, Pony couldn’t let go of their past bond. James was ecstatic, clinging to him day and night, trying to “make up for the long, lonely, freezing time” apart.

Sirius watched them and felt it was all so simple.

He remembered Ravophine’s sleeping face when they’d been in the dark tunnel, the unguarded, vulnerable look while he rolled around in the dorm like a child. And now he looked down at James holding Pegasus close to his chest, as if nothing in the world could touch them.

He wished he could hold Emilius like that.

--------------------

“Mr. Black, if you feel too tired in my class, I suggest you return straight to your dorm and take a nap.”

“Oh, dear Minerva, I doubt I’d get a peaceful sleep, alone in the dorm without the melody of your golden voice near my ear.”

After that? Nothing else. Professor McGonagall had promptly kicked him out of class with a detention slip. Perfect, there was nothing left in that boring lesson that he hadn’t already known.

On his way out, Sirius didn’t forget to wink at James and saunter out, leaving behind his friend’s envious expression.

He strolled down the corridor, hands behind his head, half-dazed. He hadn’t slept a wink all night, so he had dared to take a nap during the Head of House’s first lesson. Now that he’d been kicked out, he was wide awake, with no interest in going back to the dorm.

A group of girls ran past, chattering excitedly.

“Hurry up, he’s practicing Quidditch!”

“Today he tied his hair up, looks twice as serious as usual. Oh my God, so handsome!”

“I never thought I’d watch Slytherin practice Quidditch, but… oh. Don’t tell my boyfriend!”

Sirius’s steps automatically turned toward the girls as they passed. But as he neared the Quidditch pitch, he stopped.

He couldn’t let anyone see Sirius Black sneaking to watch Slytherin practice. Plus, his brother Regulus was there. Thinking quickly, Sirius hid behind a tree and transformed into a large black dog. The dog wagged its tail lazily, trotting down to the pitch, choosing a secluded corner to watch.

The sunlight had softened the winter chill somewhat, falling on the players training intensely. And the dog’s eyes followed only one figure slicing through the air, golden hair streaming behind him like a river of light, vibrant and magical.

And the dog unable to look away.

----------------------------

Hayden was wandering along the edge of the lake, excitement written all over his face. In his hands, he clutched the Christmas gift from Emilius: the Magical Beast Binoculars.

At first glance, it looked ordinary: a slightly tarnished brass body, faded swirling patterns. But through them, any animal appeared in the form of the mystical creature closest to it. Since receiving the gift, Hayden had been running all over, scrutinizing every creature he saw.

Owls became griffins, sparrows transformed into phoenixes, even a common rat looked like some kind of dragon, a rotund, scraggly dragon, mind you. The fun part was, the same species could appear as different creatures depending on its color and features. It wasn’t a fixed mapping like “all cats become lions or cheetahs.”

Now, Hayden was kneeling behind a bush near the lake, binoculars pressed to his eyes, intently observing a swimming duck. He giggled.

“It’s a Water Unicorn! Emil, it’s a Water Unicorn!”

“Uh huh.”

Emilius was sitting a short distance away, leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out on the grass, a lollipop held between his teeth. Well, “held” isn’t quite right,he kept it between his teeth, ready to bite through at any moment.

One of them was lost in thought, staring at the sky; the other darted back and forth, running about. Pegasus had been dragged off by James to watch him practice Quidditch, leaving just the two of them. Well, almost, the girls hiding behind a nearby bush were also sneaking peeks at Emilius.

After running around for a while, Hayden finally collapsed beside Emilius, panting, but clearly satisfied with the number of magical creatures he’d discovered.

“Dracy made the Ravenclaw team.”

Suddenly, Emilius dropped that bombshell, leaving Hayden stunned.

“Huh?”

“Quidditch.”

Hayden blinked.

“WHAT?! Really?!”

“Yeah.”

“No way!”

Emilius recounted everything with an unreadable expression, though the lollipop in his mouth had long since been chewed to bits when Dracy’s name came up.

Hayden frowned. He hadn’t expected Dracy, the typical Ravenclaw buried in books, uninterested in physical activities since their shared childhood playtimes, to actually be skilled enough for Quidditch. And looking at his frail, pale frame… could he really manage it?

But Emilius himself was a true bookworm, and no one expected him to be such a proficient Quidditch player until he mounted a broom. Who knows…

“But what do you have to worry about?”

Hayden patted his shoulder. “Even Potter can’t stop you on the field; a newbie like Dracy? Forget it.”

Then he added, grinning, “Honestly, I’m kind of hoping your team crushes theirs.”

Emilius raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that about? Are you really a Hufflepuff?”

Hayden answered honestly.

“Pegasus and I haven’t forgotten how nasty he was back in first year, Emil. Those rumors, luckily it was just first-year drama, didn’t get much attention.”

Emilius pulled the stick from his mouth and stared at the still lake. He held the lollipop stick between two knuckles, spinning it elegantly like a tiny pinwheel.

How could he tell his best friend that the thing weighing on him wasn’t facing a “rival”?

It was that, even though he always claimed to hate Dracy Gallard, he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing him treated unfairly or hurt by anyone in his house.

From the corner of his eye, Emilius noticed a flash of red. Tilting his head, he saw Snape and Lily Evans sitting a short distance away, apparently deep in conversation. They looked close again; the gloom on Snape’s face from the holidays was gone, replaced with what looked almost like a smile toward his friend.

Lily waved at them, and Snape glanced at Emilius with a slightly embarrassed expression. Before he could react, Lily stood, said something to Snape, and walked over to where he and Hayden were sitting.

She stopped in front of Emilius, smiling brightly.

“Thank you.”

Emilius: …?

She leaned down, speaking softly.

“I know you overheard Severus and me arguing, and I also know that because of you, Severus apologized to me, Ravophine.”

Emilius: ?

“Uh, I think you’re mistaken, Evans. I didn’t do anything…”

She shook her head, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“No, after the break, Severus practically changed his attitude. And out of all the people he interacts with, you’re the only one who could influence him like that. Plus, only two people were around during the break.”

Emilius recalled their “not-so-pleasant” conversation a few days ago and was surprised Snape had actually listened and apologized to Lily.

A remarkable step forward. For someone like Snape.

Lily stood and returned to her friends, her fiery hair bouncing with every excited step.

Hayden nudged him. “Wow, leaving you alone over the break turned you into a surprise good person, huh? I thought you didn’t care about things that aren’t your business.”

Emilius shrugged. Normally, he wouldn’t care about others, but seeing those two, Lily and Snape, from rival houses maintaining their friendship made him think of himself and Dracy… if only…

And once again, Emilius laughed quietly at his own foolishness.

Chapter Text

Emilius’s mother, Katya Ravophine, was a Russian Veela, which was why Emilius was fluent in Russian as his second language contrary to what many people assumed when they pictured him as some spoiled, aristocratic French noble.

But he wasn’t a noble at all.

His father came from a pure-blood family, yes, but just an ordinary old wizarding line in Godric’s Hollow. His mother was a Veela, beautiful, yes, refined and regal, with a kind of ethereal elegance. Emilius inherited her looks, but certainly not her elegance.

His hair had always been wild and curly since the day he was born. He had his father’s eyes, a bright, vivid green that shimmered with intelligence, but in Emilius there was something extra: a mischievous, stubborn spark that belonged to no one but him.

His mother liked to describe Russia as “a bizarre little planet of its own,” a place that didn’t fit with the rest of the world. Even Russian wizards didn’t play Quidditch on brooms like normal people, they played on pine trees or something like that.

Emilius figured he’d inherited that strangeness from a motherland he’d never once had the chance to visit, because even as a child he’d always been smart… but odd. Always in his own world.

When he was three, the entire household nearly lost their minds when he suddenly vanished. Turns out, Emilius had squeezed himself into the hollow body of a grandfather clock and sat there, quietly watching his parents run around in panic. And even now, though he was far too big to fit into any clock, he still preferred hiding in places no sane person would consider: strolling through the Forbidden Forest at night, sitting inside bushes eating candy…

Because Veela were an all-female species, those who married humans and had daughters could pass on part of their enchanting allure. But sons were different. Male half-Veela inherited the beauty, yes, but none of the deadly charm.

Emilius knew that. But that didn’t mean his looks didn’t cause him trouble. Or Sirius Black trouble, for that matter.

Thankfully, Hogwarts as a whole was still too shocked by the face he always hid, and even that was enough to make girls lose their minds. They didn’t dare go too far, of course, mostly just sneaking glances, forming secret fanclubs, sending love letters and gifts (all of which Emilius unceremoniously tossed into the common-room fireplace. Rude, yes, but necessary. Hayden and Pegasus had warned him more than once that people might try to slip love potions into them).

The boys weren’t much better. The Slytherins still glared at him as usual, but even they would sneak glances when they thought he wasn’t looking, as if they still couldn’t believe that the quiet, unimpressive boy they’d always scorned somehow had a face carved like a statue. He didn’t bother paying attention to boys from other houses, but according to Pegasus, that cursed fanclub even had a decent number of male members.
Which was why the Slytherin fireplace had to work overtime every single day for him.

Merlin help him. Forget Black, after what happened with Dracy, he didn’t believe in “love” anymore. Emilius believed each person had one true half, and his could only ever have been Dracy. But now… that would never happen.

Everyone else was only interested in his face. So Emilius swore to himself: romance was deleted from his life, permanently.

Luckily, his two best friends didn’t seem to care about dating either. Hayden was still too innocent and childish more passionate about magical creatures than people. Pegasus was… well, busy pranking everyone he could reach. Most notably his poor father, Mr. Grey.

The Three Broomsticks was the same as ever, loud, lively, and always a refuge for students avoiding homework. In their usual corner, the three of them huddled over foaming butterbeers, laughing so hard their voices bounced off the wooden ceiling.

“I told him, ‘Dad, I need to ask you something serious… How do you… uh… deal with girls?’”

Pegasus barely got the words out before the other two burst into choking coughs. Despite being the head of the illustrious Grey family, Pegasus’s father, Arnold Grey, was one of the most cheerful, easygoing men alive. He’d almost been like a friend to them since childhood, even joining them in their mischief sometimes.

Unfortunately, his son had always taken full advantage of that.

This time, Pegasus was retelling how he’d lied to his father about having a girlfriend at school and had gone to him for “advice.”

“And then?”

“He just sat there in silence for five seconds, poured himself more fire whisky, downed it in one gulp, and said, ‘Are you sure you want to talk to me about this? Why don’t you… try reading a book?’”

“I told him I did read, didn’t get any of it, though, so I figured getting advice from an adult was better. I swear he looked ready to drop dead right then.”

Emilius pushed his glasses back up, the new ones he always wore outside school grounds to avoid attracting more attention, because they’d slid down as he laughed too hard.

“Wait… so who did you tell him you were dating?”

Pegasus grinned wickedly.

“I made it up. Said her name was Amelia. Blonde hair, cold and beautiful, a bit distant, smart, played Quidditch, green eyes…”

…
Quidditch-playing. Blonde. Green-eyed. Standoffish.

Amelia. Amelia. Emilius.

“Pff—HAHAHAHA!”

Emilius’s face darkened while Hayden clutched his stomach, laughing himself breathless.

“You little shit.”

Pegasus winked, blowing a kiss.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Hayden was still wheezing when Pegasus continued, face deadpan:

“And then my dad said, ‘If she’s that elegant, you’d better be patient with her. And don’t do anything stupid, don’t push her boundaries, remember to be considerate—’”

Emilius’s expression went pitch-black.

Hayden nearly fell off his chair coughing. He had never imagined a world where “Emilius” and “elegant" were in the same sentence.

“Wait, now your dad thinks you really have a girlfriend?”

Hayden asked, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yeah. He even asked when I planned to bring her home.”

Pegasus flashed his teeth.

“Your ‘girlfriend’ is gonna beat you to death first.”

Emilius cracked his knuckles.

“Oh no, Amelia’s upset,” Pegasus gasped dramatically, clutching his heart. “Our love was only just beginning…”

“Beginning my ass.”

“But honestly," Hayden said, “Amelia’s a pretty name. Sounds gorgeous already.”

“Amelia who?”

All three nearly jumped out of their skins.

James Potter and Sirius Black poked their heads out from under the Invisibility Cloak.

Hayden looked at Emilius. Emilius looked at Hayden. They needed exactly one-hundredth of a second to enter Betrayal Mode.

“Pegasus’s new girlfriend.” they said in perfect unison.

Pegasus: “What?! NO—”

“Pony has a girlfriend?” James blinked. “I thought you swore celibacy for your prank career?”

“Well done, Pony!” Sirius lunged forward, headlocking Pegasus and ruffling his hair. “Who is she? Pretty? Got a picture? How long? Why haven’t we met her?”

Pegasus flailed. “There’s no one! Don’t listen to them—”

“She’s French,” Hayden said calmly. “A Beauxbatons student. Amelia Vallière. Blonde, pretty as a fairy, plays the harp.”

“Engaged to the Grey family since she was ten,” Emilius added. “Very stable relationship. Pony blushes every time he gets a letter.”

James stared at Pegasus, not laughing.

Emilius glanced at Hayden. Hayden nodded, lips twitching.

“Uh… congratulations.” James’s voice wavered.

Pegasus couldn’t even be bothered to respond, but James suddenly stood up, turned around, and walked out of the pub without another word.

Sirius stared after him, then looked back at Pegasus.
“What was that? What’s up with him?”

Pegasus scratched his head
.
“…No idea.”

“Probably salty ‘cause he’s been failing to woo Lily, and now suddenly you show up with a whole betrothal. Jealousy, mate.”

“For the last time, I don’t!”

But both Hayden and Emilius could tell Black and Potter very much preferred believing that “little Pony has a girlfriend” than dealing with Pegasus’s weak attempts at denial.

Then, as if nothing at all was strange about it, Black dragged a chair over and plopped himself down right next to Emilius.

Emilius didn’t spare him a single glance.

Truthfully, ever since that night in the Room of Requirement, he’d gone right back to ignoring him, during classes, in the hallways, even when he could feel Sirius’s burning stare drilling into the back of his skull.

He clung to one desperate belief: if he ignored Sirius Black long enough… the idiot would eventually get bored and leave him alone.

But no.

“How’re you doing, Emilius?”

Sirius pulled a massive chocolate bar from his pocket, clearly bought from Honeydukes, unwrapped it, and bit off a huge chunk, never taking his eyes off him.

“It’s Ravophine. We’re not close.”

“After you let me sleep in your room and almost died with me, that’s a bit cold.”

Emilius finally lifted his head to give him a single, disgusted glance.

“I thought dogs weren’t supposed to eat chocolate?”

“—Pff!” Hayden and Pegasus both burst out laughing.

They needed to know where this train wreck was headed.
Sirius chuckled bitterly.

“I’m trying to have a normal conversation here.”

Emilius lifted his butterbeer, took a slow sip.

“Try it with someone else. I’m not interested in being ‘normal’ with you.”

“Maybe you’d like it if you gave it a chance,” Sirius said, still refusing to back down, voice steady but eyes glinting with mischief.

Emilius set his glass down, turning his head with painful slowness, peering at Sirius through thick lenses as if inspecting whether this boy had any functioning brain cells at all.

“You really enjoy being a clown, don’t you, Black?”

“No. I just enjoy you.”

Splutter.
This time Pegasus actually choked, while Hayden smacked the table, laughing silently.

Hayden wheezed, “He just said it. Out loud.”

Emilius didn’t react. He simply sighed, downed the last of his butterbeer in one go, and stood up.

“Goodbye, Black.”

Both Hayden and Pegasus stood, ready to follow him, but Sirius grabbed Pegasus’s wrist. Pegasus looked down at Sirius’s pitiful puppy-dog eyes, sighed, and motioned for Hayden to go after Emilius while he sat back down.

“Pony…”

“That was pathetic, Padfoot.”

“…I know. But Emilius isn’t like the others…”

Pegasus flicked his ear, hard.
“Yeah, since when have you ever apologized to someone you bullied, let alone tried to court them?”

Sirius yelped, clutching his ear.

“Come on, Pony! You're my best mate. Help me out. Please.”

“What do you expect me to do?!”

“You understand Emilius better than anyone. Give me tips. Strategies. Or at least whisper something nice about me in his ear so he’ll soften up—”

Pegasus’s face reddened.

“Are you crazy? Merlin’s beard! Your whole problem, you and Prongs both, is you never take responsibility for anything you do. Urg—H—“

He’d gotten so worked up he fell into a coughing fit. Sirius panicked and rubbed his back.

“Easy there, easy, big guy, don’t die on me.”

Pegasus grabbed a half-finished glass of water and chugged it to soothe his throat. Then he exhaled.

“…Fine.”

“First of all, quit doing that stupid flirting crap you always pull. It only makes Emil hate you more.”

“I’ll figure out how he really feels, and while I’m doing that, don’t show off. Don’t act like an idiot.”

Sirius threw an arm around him and planted an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

“Love you the most.”

Right then, James walked back into the pub, saw the scene… and quietly walked right back out.

———————-

“Emil! Wait up!”

Hayden caught up to Emilius just as they passed Honeydukes, nearly slipping on the wet cobblestone. Emilius didn’t slow down at all, just kept walking, hands stuffed in his robe pockets, face cold as January air.

“Hey! Stop a second! Don’t be mad !”

“Not mad,” Emilius replied curtly, not turning around. “I just don’t want to waste another word on him.”

Hayden made a face and quickened his pace to keep up, chest heaving.

”Come on, he’s not that bad—”

“Not that bad?”

Emilius stopped short, whipping his head around. His eyes flashed.

“Did you forget who pulled that stunt that almost got you hurt, and smashed my old glasses? And for the past two years, who’s been picking a fight with me every time he sees me?”

Hayden shut up. That expression meant arguing would be suicidal. He softened his tone, tugging gently at Emilius’s sleeve.

“But… y’know… he looked kind of miserable when you walked out.”

Emilius exhaled sharply, eyes rolling like his patience had reached its limit.

“If you say another word about Black, I will bury you in the snow.”

Hayden: :((

He was in the middle of glaring at Hayden when he suddenly bumped into someone.

“Oh—sorry—Evans?”

Lily staggered backward, nearly toppling over with her armful of overflowing bags.

Hayden blurted, “Merlin’s pants—!” and the both of them scrambled to help pick things up. Eggs, flour, butter, chocolate chips…

“Evans, are you opening a bakery or something?”

Lily laughed, cheeks blooming pink.

“No, I just… tomorrow’s Severus’s birthday. I wanted to bake him a cake.”

Then she leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Please keep it a secret, alright?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Hayden mimed zipping his lips.

“But why not just buy one, or ask a house-elf? Looks like a lot of work.”

“A homemade cake means more, doesn’t it?” Emilius answered for her, and Lily smiled, her face flushing nearly the same shade as her hair.

They were already heading back toward the castle, so they carried the bags for her. Hayden lugged the flour, while Emilius held two bags full of ingredients. When they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, Lily beamed.

“Thank you both so much.”

“Hold on.”

Emilius said quietly, reaching into his coat and pulling out a massive chocolate bar wrapped in shiny silver, a pricey one he’d bought earlier from Honeydukes. He pressed it into Lily’s hands.

“For Snape,” he said simply.

Lily blinked. “W—why don’t you give it to him yourself?”

Emilius shrugged.

“He and I aren’t close. And if I gave it to him, he probably wouldn’t take it.”

Lily looked at him for a long moment.

Then she smiled softly

“Well… thank you. Really. Severus will be so happy. You’re a good person, Ravophine.”

Emilius scratched his head, pretending not to care, though Lily’s grin widened at how red his ears had gotten.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

“I just think… everyone deserves a gift on their birthday.”
They left, winter wind threading through their cloaks. Hayden hunched his shoulders, glancing sideways at Emilius.

“You’re really nice to Snape,” Hayden said, not teasing, but genuinely surprised. “Even though he looks at everyone like he’s smelling dragon dung.”

Emilius didn’t answer. He slowed his pace, eyes drifting to the bare winter trees, hands buried deep in his pockets.

“You don’t see it?” he said quietly. “Besides Evans… who’s ever been kind to him?”

Hayden blinked, staring.

Emilius continued, voice steady, as if commenting on the weather:

“People aren’t born bitter. Snape’s not exactly pleasant, but… not everyone gets a good childhood. Or friends like we do.”

“…How do you know?”

“Just pay attention.”

Hayden let out a low whistle.

“Sometimes you’re scary, Emil. Like… you know too much.”

“Yeah.” Emilius smirked faintly. “I scare of myself too.”

Chapter Text

For the next few days, the packed Quidditch practice schedule almost wore Emilius out. The match with Ravenclaw was approaching, and after Professor Slughorn finished praising his “brilliant, outstanding form,” he signed a slip allowing Emilius temporary release from detention.

Every evening, Emilius headed straight to the pitch, and by the time he returned to his dorm he barely had enough energy to shower before collapsing into bed. That night was the same, except he ended up sleeping through dinner and only woke when it was close to midnight.

Starving, he groggily pulled on a random sweater and decided to sneak down to the kitchens for food. He had slept shirtless as usual, but since he always drew his curtains and charmed them for privacy, he wasn’t worried about anyone seeing him. The downside, though, was obvious: no one could wake him up for anything, not even dinner.

He stepped out of the common room and almost bumped into Regulus Black, who was sitting on the sofa with a book in hand. The younger boy was nearly a head shorter, slim but wiry, his grey eyes focused under long dark lashes. He looked perfectly awake and composed, always proper, always polite, a sort of dignified calm that was nothing like his infamous older brother.

“You’re finally up,” Regulus said when he saw the older boy appear.

“I thought you’d died in your sleep.”

“Probably almost did,” Emilius muttered as his stomach growled loudly.

Regulus shut his book and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“Kitchens. I’m starving.”

“Can I come? I’m hungry too.”

Emilius shot him a brief glance, but only nodded.

They walked along the cold stone corridor, weaving through flickering lantern-light. Regulus followed a step behind, watching the silent, quick-footed way Emilius moved. The older boy seemed to know exactly where to duck behind suits of armor or slip past odd protruding walls, like he knew the castle more intimately than seventh years.

When the shadow of Mrs. Norris swept across the corner ahead, Emilius stopped abruptly and pulled Regulus back into a recess behind a tapestry. He didn’t speak, just pressed a finger to his lips. Regulus nodded.

“Have you ever been caught?” he whispered as they descended toward the basement stairs.

“Yeah. A few times,” Emilius said flatly. “But never by Filch. It was always Peeves, the bloody menace. And once… that sliding trap on the West Corridor.”

“You fell for the sliding trap?”

“Yep. Nearly broke my neck. Never forgot it.”

When they reached the kitchens, the house-elves rushed over, excited, then laid out toast, pumpkin soup, and a plate of hot meat pies. Emilius dropped into a chair and immediately started eating .

Regulus sat more properly, though he couldn’t hide his fascination with the massive kitchen. He tore a small piece of bread, then suddenly asked:

“You sneak out like this often?”

“If I can’t sleep, I walk. If I’m hungry, I eat. Why?” Emilius slowed his chewing, giving Regulus a half-lidded look.

“No reason… You just seem very used to it.”

“Yeah, being a good little student gets boring fast.”

The warm kitchen smelled of butter and spices. They sat beside each other at the long table, the only sounds the clink of cutlery and steady chewing.

Regulus ate neatly. Even while sneaking food, he kept his manners. Emilius, meanwhile, was starving enough not to care, devouring everything within reach, cheeks puffed like a squirrel.

Regulus glanced sideways. The scene felt oddly familiar. He thought of his brother, same lazy posture, same way of eating like the world might end tomorrow. Except Emilius was quieter, cleaner, and… not irritating. But that effortless recklessness? That was the same.

“You eat like a cat sniffing at food,” Emilius drawled. “Don’t be shy.”

“You’re the one who skipped dinner. I’m just snacking.”

“You’re too skinny. Try eating more.”

“You exaggerate.”

Regulus watched Emilius finish the last piece of pie.

People in their House always gossiped about the Ravophine family, his father a legendary Auror. A living myth. Regulus had assumed Emilius must be arrogant, cold, overly refined.

But he wasn’t.

Emilius Ravophine wasn’t like anyone in Slytherin.

Regulus had to fight a smile at the sight of those chipmunk cheeks.

Reckless, blunt… and somehow, a little like Sirius.

His brother carried that same wildness, but louder, always demanding attention. Emilius didn’t. His bluntness wasn’t performative; it was simply who he was. Honest. Natural.

Regulus was a little jealous of him.

Not because of Quidditch or magic skills , though those were true strengths, but because Emilius lived the way he wanted. He could stand up and say, “This is wrong.” He defended the weak. He ignored House politics without fear.

In Slytherin, that was rare. And difficult.

Regulus had never hated Emilius. If anything, he admired him. A little because of talent, but mostly because of something he would not say aloud, he wished he had that same courage. To live without fear of disappointing the Black family name.

“What are you staring at?”

“Ah—nothing.”

“Want more?”

Regulus shook his head. “No. I’m full.”

He waited patiently until Emilius wiped his hands. Then he offered a napkin and, after a pause, spoke quietly:

“… My brother must’ve bothered you a lot.”

Emilius looked up, neither smiling nor annoyed.

“Yeah, I’ll admit it. Things right now are even worse than before, back when he used to lurk behind me to hex me.”

Regulus lowered his gaze, hands clasped under the table.

“… I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? I don’t hate you because your brother’s a pain.”

“Still… it feels like a mess I should acknowledge.”

Regulus’s smile was small, embarrassed, but relieved.

“I know he can be too much. Stubborn. When he sets his eyes on someone, he doesn’t back off.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Emilius leaned back. “At first I thought he was just messing around like always, but then…”

He exhaled.

“…turns out he’s serious. And Sirius being serious isn’t any better than him joking.”

Regulus nodded. “Do you hate him?”

Emilius didn’t answer immediately. After a moment:

“I don’t like him. Mostly I’m… annoyed. Especially since I don’t know how to deal with someone like him.”

A quiet pause settled between them. Regulus looked at his empty pumpkin juice glass, then at the older boy he had long respected.

“Are you afraid of being hated?” he asked softly.

“What’s there to fear?” Emilius replied. “I just need to live in a way I’m not ashamed of. What others think is their problem.”

The kitchen was quiet now, save for the crackling fire and a spoon tapping an empty bowl. Regulus hesitated before speaking again:

“A lot of people in Slytherin say you’re not like us.”

“I’ve heard that. Every insult usually starts with that sentence.”

Regulus’s hands tightened slightly. “It’s not an insult. They just… don’t understand you.”

“… I’m a little jealous,” he admitted after a small pause.

“You do things your own way. You don’t need anyone’s approval. I can’t do that. I’m not… allowed to.”

Emilius turned to look at him, seeing, for the first time, something tired in the younger boy’s eyes, a weight behind the calm.

“Since Sirius went to Gryffindor… everything’s gotten harder,” Regulus said quietly. “My parents expect everything from me now. I can’t make mistakes.”

“And yet here you are, sneaking food with someone who’s ‘not a real Slytherin.’”

Regulus didn’t argue. Emilius stirred his spoon lazily through the pudding, then let out a long, deliberate sigh.

“You know what I think?”

“Avada Kedavra doesn’t check your blood status. If it hits, you’re done. Muggle born, half blood, pure blood, dead is dead. Dirt is dirt.”

Regulus glanced at him, half expecting it to be a joke, but Emilius’s face was completely serious. The words sounded a bit… blunt, but painfully true.

“That’s why I think the whole blood purity thing is ridiculous. If someone wants to brag about being pure blood, sure,go ahead. Let’s see if anyone sorts your corpse afterwards.”

Regulus had no idea how to respond, so he stayed silent.

Emilius propped his chin on his palm, tilting his head at him, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Hey. You think Lily Evans is pretty?”

Regulus jerked. “Huh?!”

“Evans. Same year as me. Pretty or not?”

Regulus stared at him like he’d fallen out of the sky.

“…I mean… I guess? She’s smart. And talented.”

Emilius nodded thoughtfully.

“Yep. And you know she’s Muggle born, right?”

Regulus didn’t speak.

“Yet half the pure bloods in this school aren’t even worth a fingernail of hers.”

Emilius stood, stretching lazily.

“If you can’t win, you start smashing things, that’s how I see it.”

“But that’s just your opinion.”

“Yeah. Just my opinion,” Emilius said calmly.

“Everyone’s got their own viewpoint. That’s why the world keeps fighting. I’ve never claimed mine is the truth. It’s just one angle.”

He turned to look at Regulus.

“I’m not living your life, or born into your fancy pure blood family. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m not.”

“But the choice is yours, little Black.”

Regulus sat frozen, mind full of things he’d never allowed himself to think before but that thought was cut short by Emilius’s lazy voice again.

“Let’s go back. If we stay any longer, I won’t even be able to lift a broom tomorrow.”

They crept back into the corridor, making it halfway when—

“Oooh-ho-ho! Someone’s sneaking around at night!”

That shrill, cackling voice made them both stiffen. Peeves.

“Students out of bed! Fetch Filch! Fetch Mrs. Norris! Hahahaaa—!”

“Run,” Emilius said quickly, eyes already scanning for an escape route.

Regulus hesitated. “What about you—”

“I know this castle better than my own house.”

Emilius winked, a mischievous grin flashing across his face.

“Don’t worry.”

He reached out, ruffled Regulus’s hair without warning, startling the boy.

“Be a good boy.”

Regulus barely had time to blink before Emilius sprinted off, luring Peeves in the opposite direction.

Emilius tore down the dark hallway, boots slapping against the cold stone. Behind him, Peeves’s laughter faded, only to be replaced by the familiar thudding footsteps of Filch and the hiss of the old cat.

“Where are they?! Little brats! Mrs. Norris track them!”

Damn it.

Emilius swerved into another corridor, keeping his breathing shallow. And right then, from the intersection ahead, another figure appeared out of nowhere.

“Oi—!”

They collided hard. Emilius instinctively grabbed the stranger, one hand catching their arm, the other bracing on the wall.

The other person staggered but steadied, gripping Emilius’s wrist. Under the dusty moonlight filtering through the window, a pale, familiar face came into view—sharp, cold, blue eyed.

Dracy Gallard.

Their breaths mingled in the dim hallway. On Dracy’s chest, a small badge caught the moonlight, Ravenclaw Prefect.

Of all nights…

Emilius let go and backed up. “…Bloody hell.”

Then he turned and bolted toward the west corridor.

Filch’s footsteps were getting close. Emilius ducked behind a statue, pressing a hand to the wall. His heartbeat thudded in his ears.

This was it. He was done for.

But then—

A voice, familiar down to each clipped syllable, spoke just beyond the stone.

“There’s no one here, sir.”

Emilius froze.

Filch grumbled, “I swear I heard something—”

“Probably the wind. This corridor is noisy.”

“Wind… right. Mrs. Norris, check the area!”

The footsteps faded. Emilius opened his eyes slowly. Dracy still stood there, arms crossed, calm as if nothing happened.

“…Why did you do that?”

Dracy shrugged, a faint, cold smile tugging at his lips.

“If that’s your way of thanking me, it’s… rather rude.”

Emilius’s jaw clenched.

“Rude?” He huffed a humorless laugh.
“I didn’t know I was required to be polite to someone who spent first year calling me a stalker and a creep.”

“I didn’t choose Slytherin, Dracy. The Hat did. And you, you acted like I was filthy.”

Dracy bit his lip, staying silent. Emilius stepped closer. He was taller, broader from Quidditch and boxing, looming over Dracy’s thin, pale frame.

His voice rose.

“Now you suddenly save me? And stand there acting all righteous, lecturing me about gratitude?”

“Gallard, what the hell do you want?”

Emilius hissed.

“Is your conscience acting up? Or do you just pity me?”

Emilius’s chest heaved, eyes burning holes straight through him. Dracy didn’t back down, but he didn’t meet his eyes either. His voice came out soft, too soft.

“…I don’t know. I just… didn’t want you to get caught.”

No excuses. No elaborate reasoning.

Just raw, awkward honesty.

Emilius froze.

The wind pushed moonlight across Dracy’s face, thin, pale, and far more fragile than he remembered.

A moment passed.

Then Emilius turned and walked away.

He didn’t look back.

----------------

The Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw took place on quite possibly the worst day imaginable: sheets of rain, violent winds, lightning cracking across the sky as if the heavens wanted to contribute to the chaos.

Wind howled through the stands, whipping the banners around like they might tear off at any second. On the pitch, players flew through the storm as if they’d all collectively lost their minds, or were simply that desperate to win. Among them, two names stood out clearly: Emilius Ravophine of Slytherin and Dracy Gallard, Ravenclaw’s new Chaser.

Soaked to the bone, rain slapping their faces like a whip, Emilius still moved like a raging storm. He flew as if exhaustion didn’t exist, as if he’d been built solely for the purpose of tearing through the Ravenclaw goalposts.

On the other end, Dracy was equally fierce. Despite being a rookie, Dracy dodged Bludgers cleanly, passed with crisp precision, and even pulled off a few aggressive plays that had the audience leaning forward in shock.

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor stands, where absolutely no one should logically be cheering for Slytherin, two blindingly obvious traitors stood out like sore thumbs.

Hayden and Pegasus.
Emilius’s two best friends, sitting proudly among a sea of red raincoats, waving a giant banner that read:

“EMILIUS, FLY INTO MY HEART ❤️”
“DESTROY THOSE BIRDS!!! 🐍⚡️”

The words were so huge you could probably read them from Hogsmeade.

Every time Emilius got the Quaffle, Pegasus blasted a trumpet like he was trying to summon the dead, while Hayden screamed encouragement that sounded like a mix between a battle cry and a mating call.

Emilius thanked Merlin the rain was heavy. If not, they’d see exactly how red his face had gotten from madness.

And because Ravenclaw had Dracy Gallard this time, those two idiots were cheering even harder, solely so Emilius would “crush that pretentious little shit.”

Although Slytherin had always been the “most hated house” on campus, Emilius Ravophine had somehow increased their crowd support. Even several Gryffindors were cheering this time.

Every time he pulled off a clean maneuver or blocked a counterattack, the stands erupted. Green fireworks burst into heart shapes, floating bubbles shaped like his face drifted upward (someone definitely used a charm), and somewhere in the crowd a voice wailed—

“OH MERLIN, HE’S SO HANDSOME I MIGHT DIE—”

Up in the commentator’s booth, over the roar of wind and rain, Marvin Macmillan’s voice blared through the Sonorus charm:

“Look at him, soaked head to toe, hair plastered down, eyes sharp, this is a Category Twelve Attractive Storm! If anyone deserves to be Quidditch’s national heartthrob, it’s—”

“Macmillan. If you do not return to actual commentary immediately—”

“Yes, professor. Right. Absolutely. Anyway— uh—Ravenclaw launches a counterattack… though honestly no one can counterattack those eyes of Ravophine—”

“MACMILLAN.”

Score: Slytherin 60 – Ravenclaw 40.

Both teams clawed for every point, every opening in the storm. Emilius attacked like the match was a matter of life and death. Dracy countered with equally sharp plays, fingers trembling from the cold but movements precise.

But one thing remained missing.

The Golden Snitch.

The rain was so thick visibility past ten meters was nearly nonexistent. The Seekers from both teams circled the sky like desperate hawks, eyes narrowed against the downpour, looking for even the faintest glimmer of gold.

No luck.

It was as if the Snitch had decided rain was beneath its dignity and gone to sleep somewhere dry.

In the stands, flags were now nothing more than soggy lumps, but the cheering continued, loudest, of course, from the Gryffindor section, where Hayden and Pegasus were still screaming like wild animals.

At one point, Ravenclaw pulled into a tight formation for a counterattack. Dracy swooped in, cutting past a Slytherin Chaser to intercept a pass—

And then—

WHAM!

A Bludger slammed into Dracy from the side. Too close. Too sudden.

Trolus Richard, the massive Slytherin Beater, had intentionally aimed a deflected Bludger toward Dracy. He didn’t even have time to dodge. The impact knocked him sideways, his body slipping off the broom, legs dangling over open air. One more inch and he would’ve dropped from over thirty meters up.

Emilius reacted on instinct.

He dove through the rain, grabbed a fistful of Dracy’s sleeve, and yanked him back upright. The force nearly sent both of them spinning, but Emilius stabilized first, forcing Dracy back onto his broom.

Dracy clung to the handle, chest heaving, utterly shaken.

The stands exploded, half the crowd furious at the foul, the other half roaring in awe at Emilius’s sportsmanship.

Dracy looked up through the storm and met Emilius’s eyes.

Cold. Soaked. Breathless.

Emilius said,

“Now we’re even.”

Chapter Text

It was close to midnight, and the Gryffindor common room had finally begun to quiet down. The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing restless shadows across the scowling face of Sirius Black. Remus was out on prefect patrol, and James… Merlin knows where that idiot had vanished to, he hadn’t even taken the Invisibility Cloak or the Map with him.

James had been acting weird lately, though no one knew why. Sirius would normally be the first to butt in, but right now he had bigger problems.

Across from him, Pegasus Grey sat cross-legged on an armchair, lazily gnawing on a biscuit. Sirius looked like he was wrestling with chronic stomach pain.

“What’s with your face?” Pegasus mumbled, crumbs in his mouth.

Sirius looked up, grim. “…I need to talk. Seriously.”

Pegasus raised a brow. “That’s your serious face? Looks more like constipation.”

“Pony.”

“Alright, alright. Talk.”

Sirius glanced around, then leaned in.

“It’s about Emilius.”

Pegasus let out the most unimpressed sigh.

“You’re trying to cheat again.”

Sirius blinked. “…What?”

“Oh don’t pretend. You like him but won’t bother figuring him out yourself. You keep circling me like I’m the pocket-sized Emilius Ravophine Manual you forgot to buy.”

Sirius let out a weak laugh. “Well, you’re his best friend.”

“Exactly why I’m not making this easy for you.”

He leaned back, arms behind his head. “You think he’s someone anyone can just walk up to? I’m telling you, the guy’s a fortress. With a bloody shark moat.”

“Hah—yeah, and he hates me. Perfect combo.”

Sirius rubbed his hands together, looking genuinely miserable, an expression Pegasus had never once seen on the so-called Prince of Gryffindor.

Love really did humble people.

“And whose fault is that?” Pegasus deadpanned.

Sirius shot him a look. “I’m not like that anymore. I swear.”

“I know,” Pegasus shrugged. “I’ve known you long enough to know there’s a decent human buried… deep, deep down somewhere. But Emilius doesn’t know that. What are you to him? A loudmouth who played pranks on him, mocked him, humiliated him. He remembers everything.”

Sirius groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, I KNOW, stop bringing it up! I already feel like shit!”

Pegasus studied him for a long moment. The teasing faded; something sharper took its place.

“Then let me ask you one thing, Sirius Black,” he said quietly. “If you’re that scared of humiliation, why chase Emilius at all?”

Sirius opened his mouth, but Pegasus cut him off.

“No—listen. You think current situation ’s the worst of it? If you truly like him, if you want his heart, this is nothing. You’re going to get judged, dismissed, treated like trash, exactly the way you treated him.”

“And I’m not going to stop him. Emil has the right.”

Silence settled between them, woven into the hiss of the fire. Sirius stared at his friend. When he finally spoke, it was a whisper.

“So what, you want me to give up?”

“No. I want an answer. Why him, Sirius? You could have anyone in this bloody castle. Half of them practically fall at your feet. So why Emilius? And don’t—” Pegasus pointed a finger, “—don’t you dare say it’s because of his face.”

Sirius shot up from the armchair.

“It’s not!”

It burst out of him before he could think. The light flickering against his eyes made the rawness there unmistakable, confusion, anger, exhaustion.

“Yes, his looks… hit me like a bludger,” he admitted through gritted teeth, “but if it was only that, I wouldn’t be losing my mind like this.”

His voice dropped, stripped bare.

“I don’t like him because he’s pretty. I like him because he’s… not like anyone else. Even before I saw his face. He doesn’t look at me the way everyone else does. He looks at me like… like I’m nothing.”

“And I—hell, I’m used to people paying attention. But to him, I’m just a joke. So I kept… pushing. Poking. Picking fights. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

He looked into the fire, defeated.

“Sometimes I think I’m insane. Who falls for someone who’s spent two years staring at them like they’re a cockroach on the wall?”

His voice softened.

“But that look… that empty, unreadable look, Merlin, it drives me mad. He’s always calm, distant. No joy, no sadness. Like nothing in the world touches him.”

“I picked fights because I wanted a reaction. Anger, annoyance, anything. I wanted to see something real under that ice. I wanted to know who he is when the mask cracks.”

Sirius finally looked up. No bravado, no swagger, just truth.

“That night in that bloody tunnel… seeing him asleep, defenseless… Merlin help me, I just wanted to hold him and never let go.”

“Maybe I’m crazy. But I don’t want anyone else. I want Emilius Ravophine.”

Pegasus stayed silent for a long time.

Long enough Sirius got fidgety, until Pegasus finally breathed out.

“…Figures.”

“…Didn’t expect you to actually tell the truth.”

Sirius glared. “You think I’m joking?”

“No. I just thought you’d dance around it longer.”

Pegasus set the rest of his biscuit down, staring into the fire. The light painted warm gold across his sharp features, turning his pale skin almost as red as his hair.

“Can’t believe I’m about to tutor Sirius Black in romantic pursuits.”

Sirius exhaled in relief.

“So I’m approved now?”

“Yeah, yeah. Officially.”

“Brilliant.”

“I believe you’re serious—” Pegasus paused, “—for once. So I’ll help, where I can. But Sirius… there are things only you can get from him. You want Emil to open up? Then YOU make him trust you. I can’t do that for you.”

“I know. Thanks, Pony.”

Pegasus might not be softhearted, but he wasn’t heartless. After hearing the truth straight from Sirius, he felt a weight lift. He trusted his friend not to hurt Emilius.

Sirius glanced around again.

“…Where the hell did Prongs run off to anyway?”

“Probably sneaking after Lily. Again.”

Pegasus pulled a familiar piece of parchment from his pocket: the Marauder’s Map.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Ink bloomed across the page, reshaping into Hogwarts’ maze of corridors. Tiny moving names flickered to life.

Pegasus squinted toward the east wing. “James is on the fourth floor… yep, with Lily and Remus.”

“No surprise,” Sirius muttered.

But then Pegasus froze.

A new pair of names had appeared.

Sirius leaned in.

Regulus Black and Emilius Ravophine

Standing close together in an empty hallway.

---------------------------

“What the hell is Emil doing with your brother at this hour, Padfoot?!”

“How should I know? I’m not his social calendar!”

They threw on the Invisibility Cloak and sprinted out of the common room. The Map trembled in Pegasus’s hands as they rushed through the cold corridors.

“There,” Sirius whispered, tugging the cloak lower. The names Regulus Black and Emilius Ravophine were approaching a dark corner of the hall. But then—

“Wait,” Pegasus hissed. “Filch is right around that bend, and Peeves is with him.”

As if sensing danger, the two names on the Map suddenly split. Regulus went up the stairs. Emilius—

“Oi, he’s going the other way!” Sirius whispered sharply. “Toward—”

Before he could finish, another name appeared.

Dracy Gallard.

Sirius swore under his breath.

“That’s bad.”

Then, two names collided.

Emilius Ravophine

Dracy Gallard

“Crash,” Pegasus muttered.

They rounded the corner just in time to see Emilius let go of Dracy and duck behind a wall.

All three stood only a few steps apart, Pegasus and Sirius holding their breath under the cloak, Emilius hidden in shadow.

But he didn’t run.

Why wasn’t he running?

His head dipped, his expression unreadable in the dark. Filch’s footsteps approached. Sirius reached out, ready to yank Emilius under the cloak—

When suddenly—

“No one here, Mr. Filch.”

Dracy Gallard.

Emilius’s worst enemy.

Had covered for him.

Pegasus stiffened. Filch muttered something and left.

When the last echo faded, Emilius stepped from the shadows, squaring up to Dracy.

Sirius couldn’t see Emilius’s face, but the edge in his voice was enough to freeze the air.

“…Why did you do that?”

Dracy shrugged. His smile was thin as moonlight.

“If that’s your way of thanking me, it’s… rather rude”

Sirius heard Emilius’s quiet scoff, rare, sharp, venomous.

“Rude? I didn’t know I was required to be polite to someone who spent first year calling me a stalker and a creep.”

Something cracked inside Sirius.

He hadn’t known. Any of it.

“…I didn’t choose Slytherin, Dracy. The Hat did. And you, you acted like I was filthy.”

Sirius’s fists tightened under the Cloak. Every word Emilius spoke tore apart the image Sirius had built around him. The distance, the coldness,everything suddenly had roots.

And Dracy Gallard, the boy Sirius once thought was just a minor irritation, a wound cut deep to the bone.

A cold draft swept through the corridor. All Sirius could see was Emilius stepping forward, taller, solid, his shadow swallowing the smaller, thinner frame of Dracy like he was about to devour him whole.

“Now you suddenly save me? And stand there acting all righteous, lecturing me about gratitude?”

“Gallard, what the hell do you want?”

“Is your conscience acting up? Or do you just pity me?”

Sirius had heard Emilius mock people before, cold, sharp, cutting. But he had never heard him sound like this.

That was the voice of someone holding himself together by force alone.

Sirius felt his own body tense with every word Emilius spat out.

Dracy stood there, pale like a ghost.

“…I don’t know. I just… didn’t want you to get caught.”

Emilius froze. As if that clumsy, honest answer left him momentarily without any weapon to fight back.

Then he turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

Sirius didn’t know how long he stood there. Only when the hem of Emilius’s cloak disappeared did he finally lower his hand, an unfamiliar heaviness dragging in his chest.

By the time they returned to the Gryffindor common room, the fire had nearly gone out. Sirius dropped onto the sofa.

“Those two…”

“…Yeah.”

Pegasus let out a long breath.

“Back when they were still friends…” he paused, voice softening, “Dracy was Emil’s only exception. Emil’s been stubborn and impossible since birth, but with Dracy, he was a different person, bright, cheerful, warm.”

Sirius didn’t respond. His chest tightened painfully. He couldn’t imagine Emilius like that,not the quiet, shut-down version he’d known for two years.bBut a child who could love someone with his whole heart.

“Honestly, Hayden and I thought they’d end up together,” Pegasus murmured. “But then… Emil got sorted into Slytherin. And Dracy… you know the rest.”

“Dracy has his reasons. His mum was murdered by Death Eaters, he nearly died too. He hates dark wizards with every bone he’s got, and that includes half of Slytherin House. But what I can't forgive that, after all those years, he still lumped Emil in with the very people Emil’s father spent his life fighting. Just because the hat put Emil in Slytherin.”

Sirius leaned back, head against the cushion. In his ears, Emilius’s voice echoed, sharp, wounded, mixed with Dracy’s trembling apology.

“If it were you,” Pegasus asked quietly, “could you stand it? If someone who used to mean everything suddenly turned their back on you like that?”

Sirius closed his eyes.

“…No.”

"Emil holds a grudge against Dracy to the bone. But Hayden and I always know, it’s because it hurt too much. And in truth…” Pegasus sighed, “as you just saw, he’s still holding it all in. Emilius never really stopped thinking about Dracy.”

They sat there for a long time. No one spoke. Pegasus eventually drained a vial of potion, looking exhausted, while Sirius drowned in the sickening thought that Emilius’s heart had once belonged to someone else.

The fire crackled weakly in the hearth, the heaviness in the room wrapping around them like a winter blanket.

The portrait hole creaked open.

James Potter bounded in first, waving his arms like he was reenacting some grand adventure. Remus followed, Lily Evans trailing behind with the look of someone who had surrendered to James’s natural disaster of a personality.

“…and I swear to you, Lily, if McGonagall hadn’t doubled back right then, that artificial thunderstorm the Slytherins tried to—”

James froze mid-sentence. His eyes landed on the two dark figures slumped on the sofa.

He looked around.

“…Who died?”

--------------------------------

The rain didn’t stop.

Nearly four hours had passed since the Quidditch match began. No one had expected it to drag out like this. Players were shapes moving through sheets of rain, cheers had thinned to scattered whispers lost in the wind. The match showed no sign of ending, the Snitch had vanished into the storm.

Slytherin 230 – Ravenclaw 190.

The warming charms on the students were wearing off; several were huddled under cloaks and umbrellas. Pegasus Grey, whose throat had just recovered, had completely destroyed it again after shouting for nearly four hours, he now looked one sneeze away from collapsing. James and Hayden had to keep him seated so he wouldn’t fall off the stands from sheer exhaustion.

Many students had already retreated indoors. The ones left were Quidditch fanatics or die-hard Emilius supporters, but even they looked half-drowned, barely more alive than wet sewer rats.

Even Emilius, normally the powerhouse of the Slytherin team, was starting to show the strain. His flight path wavered.

When a female Ravenclaw chaser suddenly fell off her broom mid-air from exhaustion, the match was immediately blown to a halt. Screams erupted across the stands. The professors intervened at once, and within minutes, the entire roster of both teams was transported straight to the Hogwarts infirmary for recovery.

In the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey was furious. She waved her wand sharply as she hissed:

“What on earth were you children thinking?! Playing yourselves into this state?! Are you all trying to freeze to death?!”

Players were sprawled everywhere. Some were wrapped in blankets like silkworm cocoons, others had their faces smeared purple with warming ointment. Almost no one was in any shape to stand.

Regulus Black, the Slytherin Seeker, had taken the worst of it: flying at high altitude through the storm for the entire game with no break had left his lips blue and his body shaking uncontrollably. And the person supporting him all the way to his bed was none other than Emilius Ravophine.

Pegasus and Hayden burst into the infirmary.

“Emil!” Hayden called out, only to freeze when he saw how terrifyingly awful their friend looked up close. Emilius’ eyes were bloodshot, skin deathly pale, lips purple, and his drenched blond hair clung to his clothes. It was a miracle he was still on his feet.

“Merlin, he looks even worse up close.”

Pegasus didn’t look much better himself, voice wrecked from screaming four hours straight. The two immediately hauled Emilius onto an empty bed. Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand to dry his soaked clothes and handed him a bottle of warming potion before hurrying off to treat a few unconscious players.

“You lot! Out! Anyone who isn’t a patient—OUT! They need rest!”

She bellowed at the crowd packed shoulder-to-shoulder inside the room.

Hayden patted Emilius’ shoulder, grinning.

“You’ll win the next match for sure,” he said with absolute confidence. “Today was all on the weather. In storming rain like that, even Merlin wouldn’t have found the Snitch.”

“Agreed,” Pegasus rasped, face flushed with a mild fever but still managing a crooked grin. “But Emil, honestly, you were unbelievable. I’ve never seen anyone keep formation and speed like that in a downpour. The Ravenclaw team was straight-up terrified of you.”

Emilius nodded as if he were still listening, but his vision had gone blurry. His entire body felt heavy as lead.

And even on the brink of passing out, his eyes drifted, unbidden, toward the far corner of the infirmary where a cluster of Ravenclaw players was being treated. Specifically, toward Dracy Gallard.

His platinum hair hung in wet strands over a ghost-pale face, lips drained of all color. From afar he looked like a corpse wrapped in blankets, out cold, barely showing signs of life. He had almost fallen off his broom earlier right before landing. The match had been brutal even for someone as experienced as Emilius, let alone for a rookie like Dracy.

Emilius turned away, then slipped into deep, heavy sleep.

Hayden and Pegasus adjusted the blanket over him, watching him a moment before quietly leaving the infirmary. Out in the corridor, they found Sirius standing there, leaning against the wall, his face tight with worry.

“How’s Emilius?” he asked, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

“He’s asleep,” Pegasus replied, rubbing his eyes. “Completely exhausted. And still pretending to be fine till the last second. Stubborn as always.”

Hayden added, “Madam Pomfrey’s running around like mad in there. Oh, and your brother looked pretty bad too.”

Sirius fell silent, his mouth pressed into a hard line. But Madam Pomfrey had already kicked out every non-patient, players needed absolute rest, and visitors only caused chaos.

But Sirius Black had never been the type to listen.

Borrowing James’ invisibility cloak, he slipped into the infirmary later that night. The room was much quieter now; several players had been discharged, leaving empty beds scattered throughout. Regulus was no longer where he’d been earlier, likely sent back already. That eased Sirius’ mind a little.

He moved silently between the rows of beds, eyes scanning the still forms wrapped in blankets, until his footsteps came to a halt.

At the far end, beneath the dim glow of the lantern on the wall, someone stood beside Emilius’ bed.

Dracy Gallard, his platinum hair almost glowing under the moonlight, stood there quietly, staring at the sleeping boy.

Sirius clenched his fists beneath the cloak

Chapter Text

Good grief.

Emilius felt like a giant troll had smashed a club straight into the back of his skull. The moment he opened his eyes, the blindingly white ceiling of the hospital wing stabbed into his retinas.

Morning?
No. Judging by the sunlight, bloody hell, it was already noon.

He pushed himself upright. His back ached, his shoulders throbbed, and his head pulsed like a war drum. The moment he shifted, he winced. His Quidditch robes were still on him, dry by magic, yes, but stiff, grimy, and reeking of rain, mud, healing ointment, and sweat.

One thought dominated everything else: Shower. Immediately.

Madam Pomfrey swooped in the second he sat up.

“Mr. Ravophine! You stay right where you are while I check you!”

He rolled his eyes and let her wave her wand around his face until she finally exhaled, relieved, almost impressed.

“As expected of you… compared to the others, you’re only exhausted. Half of them are running fevers, coughing their lungs out, or flirting with pneumonia! Honestly, Quidditch that only ends when someone catches the Snitch? Do they think children are machines?!”

He muttered, “Yes, ma’am. Please file a complaint to the Ministry on our behalf.”

At long last, she released him.

The hospital wing was much emptier now, rows of stripped beds and a few students still groaning under blankets. Most had already gone.
Dracy, too. Good.

He clicked his tongue, about to leave, then paused.

“Madam Pomfrey, Regulus was in worse shape than me. He already left?”

“He woke up around midnight,” she said while clearing blankets. “Insisted on going back. Worse off than you, yes—hypothermia, severe fatigue, but he recovered quickly after potions. Stubborn boy.”

Emilius nodded. He didn’t even remember when he’d fallen asleep, only that his two friends had been mumbling nearby.

The smell of rain–mud still clung to his nose. His limbs felt like sandbags. Thinking back on it now… what a nightmare of a match. Merlin above. He’d watched professional Quidditch worldwide, continental cups, the World Cup, players flying like demigods, but none of them had ever dragged on miserably like yesterday.

Nearly four hours.

In a storm.

No breaks.

He glanced around the hospital wing. A few students still lay sprawled like casualties after a war, some wheezing like they were dying. For a moment he felt… pity. Not the sentimental kind, but genuinely, if someone as sturdy as him was that close to keeling over, the fact that these scrawny kids didn’t drop dead mid–air was a miracle.

One Ravenclaw girl had fallen off her broom yesterday. Dracy had looked half-dead. Not that he was going to think about that any further.

His left calf felt tight, his right hand numb, but whatever. He could go back now. He could shower. Half his soul had already revived just imagining it.

What he did not imagine was the girls.

He didn’t know where they’d spawned from, only that the moment he stepped outside the infirmary, he was instantly swallowed whole.

“Emilius! Merlin, it’s Emilius!”

“Are you feeling better? Yesterday you were amazing!!”

“He looks handsome even when he’s exhausted…”

“Like a sculpture…”

Emilius froze. His heartbeat doubled—not from flattery.

From pure, unfiltered discomfort.

He instinctively tried to back away, but behind him was the infirmary and in front of him an army of highly caffeinated fangirls. One shoved a heart-shaped cookie tin at him. Another jammed something into his hand

…a bottle of hair conditioner?

“I made it myself, Emilius! Super hydrating!! Great for damaged hair!!”

Damaged your arse. He almost screamed. He yanked his collar up, as if it could make him invisible. But the more he retreated, the closer they pressed. One giggled:

“Look, he’s flustered. So cute…”

Every nerve in Emilius’s body shrieked. He hated crowds, hated being stared at, hated pink things and heart-shaped cookies. Every time something like this happened, it felt like someone was scraping his brain with a wire brush.

Merlin help me.

He was seconds away from imagining his gravestone reading Emilius Ravophine:died by girl (literally) when

“BOILING WATER COMING THROUGH!!”

“BOILING WATER, MOVE MOVE MOVE!!!”

A shriek echoed from down the corridor like an alarm bell. Students yelped, instinctively jumping back.

Emilius didn’t waste the opportunity. He shot forward like a bullet, slipping through the crowd while every head turned toward the sudden crisis of… boiling water.

“Where?! Where?!”

“Don’t let it touch my hair!!”

“Is anyone burned?!”

No one noticed the recently recovered patient known as Emilius Ravophine bolting from the scene with the speed of a deranged Bludger. Within seconds he’d vanished around the corner, leaving behind bewildered fans and a furious Madam Pomfrey.

“YOU CHILDREN MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MINDS! DO NOT CROWD THE HOSPITAL WING!!”

Hidden in a corner of the corridor, Hayden and Pegasus were doubled over laughing.

“The classic trick. Never fails. Look at him sprint, Merlin’s beard—!”

“We should’ve majored in Theatre & Magic,” Hayden said. “At least then we could save Emil from drowning in other people’s puberty hormones.”

Pegasus snorted, glancing in the direction Emilius fled.

“No deity alive can save that kid. Only us.”

--------------

The dormitory was deserted.

Everyone else had probably gone to lunch already. Emilius exhaled in relief when the stone door shut behind him, sealing him away from the screaming, gifts, and imaginary boiling water disaster.

He wanted to die.

His Quidditch outfit might be dry, but it still smelled of sweat, mud, and something resembling mildew. If he didn’t shower soon, he was convinced his skin would peel off.

Then his gaze stopped at his bed.

On the green sheets was a neatly wrapped gift box, bright red paper, gold ribbon. A small note attached:

“For Slytherin’s best player.
From a (secret) admirer.”

Emilius squinted.

Suspiciously fragrant.

He drew his wand and flicked it. “Revelio.”

Nothing dangerous.

One more “Specialis Revela” just in case.

Still clean.

Frowning, he opened the box.

Inside was a premium broom care kit,the highest-grade he’d ever seen: imported German polish oil, a set of precision bristle-detaching knives, a European League standard tail-combing brush, and even a silk cloth embroidered with the Slytherin emblem in shimmering thread.

He stared for a moment.

Then he calmly put the lid back on.

“…What in Merlin’s name.”

He scratched his head and shoved the box under his bed. Something about it felt… eerie. Sure, he received random gifts often, but a broom care kit? Exactly when he needed one? Only Hayden and Pegasus knew that. One of them probably left it.

With that, he turned toward the bathroom, telling himself:

Shower first.

Deal with the stalker later.

----------------

The rain kept falling.

It had been pouring nonstop throughout the entire weekend, as if even the weather itself refused to let that Quidditch match, one that nearly killed both teams, continue. Because of that, the second half of the showdown between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, originally expected to finish on Sunday afternoon, was postponed indefinitely.

Technically, Quidditch rules didn’t forbid playing in the rain; even snowstorms or hail weren’t considered valid reasons to stop a match. But after nearly half the players were carried straight to the hospital wing,and after Madam Pomfrey’s furious tirade, the school had to postpone it.

The weather, however, refused to cooperate: rain from morning to noon, noon to night, drenching the entire castle in a damp, sluggish, moldy haze that seemed to seep into everyone’s bones.

Emilius didn’t complain.

Practices were canceled, no one forced him to drag a broom into slicing cold rain, and as for classes, thank Merlin, many professors simply excused the team members for a few days, everyone except Professor McGonagall.

He spent every free minute eating, sleeping, soaking in hot water, and sleeping again. Mornings without Quidditch practice meant his facial muscles could finally relax without being slapped raw by the wind. He’d even gained a little weight, and his mind was pleasantly empty for the first time in weeks.

Except for one thing Emilius absolutely could not tolerate: fans.

He had long gotten used to being stared at in the corridors, and he usually ignored them. But after the catastrophe of a match last week, everything became ten times worse.

Fanboys and fangirls multiplied like a flu outbreak. A handful from every House made excuses to stroll past the Slytherin table, giggling among themselves whenever he walked by. A bunch of Hufflepuff fourth years sent handwritten letters every morning. Love notes. Doodles. Strawberry candies. Chocolate biscuits. One girl even mailed him a vial of her own hair.

He’d never liked being watched, and now he couldn’t even eat in peace. Nearly every meal, a few girls tried to sit beside him and strike up conversation; he couldn’t swallow anything. Even the Slytherins had done a complete 180. Those who used to sneer at him now treated him with respect. The ones who had muttered “blood traitor” now approached him sheepishly, offering handshakes and shoulder pats:

“Great job last match, Ravophine!”

Alaster Carlos, the team captain with the permanent debt-collector face, now grinned ear to ear every time he saw Emilius, like some oversized toad. The first time Emilius returned after the match, Alaster nearly crushed him in a chokehold and launched into a monologue about their inevitable victory in the next game.

Insane.

A small figure sat down beside him.

“You feeling better?”

Emilius raised an eyebrow. Regulus Black, uniform neat as ever and still a bit pale, was watching him with genuine concern.

Emilius glared. “Me? You’re the one who nearly fainted, I had to drag you back, remember?”

“Potions work fast. I’m fine now. But you were out cold for half a day.”

“I woke up perfectly fine. Madam Pomfrey said I’m tough. Tiny things like you are the problem.”

“You exaggerate.”

Regulus fell silent.

His eyes lowered, as if debating whether to continue. At last, he murmured:

“…I’m sorry.”

Emilius blinked. “Huh?”

“For not catching the Snitch. The match dragged on because of me.” Regulus didn’t lift his head. “I should’ve done better.”

Emilius stared at him like the boy had said something idiotic.

“What are you even talking about?”

Regulus opened his mouth, but Emilius waved a hand sharply.

“That weather made it hard to keep your eyes open. I was about to fall off my broom, and everyone else looked just as miserable. Nobody’s at fault.”

He reached out and tapped Regulus lightly on the shoulder.

“Thick-skinned as I am, even I nearly blacked out. A scrawny kid like you lasting till the end was impressive.”

Regulus hesitated, guilt still in his eyes. “But—”

“No ‘but’. I said it wasn’t your fault, so it wasn’t.” Emilius sighed. “I know you’ll catch it next match. Maybe you’ll even grab it before I score again.”

Regulus paused, then smiled. Whether because of those words, or because Emilius rarely spoke so seriously, he didn’t know.

“Alright,” Regulus said softly. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s the spirit.”

------------------

“Did either of you give me a broom care kit?”

Emilius planted his hands on his hips, staring suspiciously at the blank faces of Pegasus and Hayden. Both shook their heads.

“Nope.”

Hayden sat up straight, eyes wide. “Someone actually gave you one? The fancy kind with German wood polish, detachable bristle knives, the official European Quidditch comb—?”

“Yep.”

“…Who the hell has that kind of money?”

“No idea.” Emilius shrugged. “It was on my bed. Note said: ‘For Slytherin’s best player.’ No name.”

Hayden whistled. “Smells like a crazed fan to me.”

Pegasus nodded. “Makes sense, though. You flew like a deity last match.”

“You sure it wasn’t you?” Emilius narrowed his eyes at Pegasus.

“I swear on my mother’s head.”

Emilius looked to Hayden. Hayden raised both hands.

“For Merlin’s sake, Emil, that kit costs over thirty Galleons. I have fifteen Sickles and a haircut discount coupon. No, it wasn’t us.”

Pegasus snorted, flopping onto the sofa. “Mysterious, huh. Somewhere out there, someone is writing in their diary: ‘Today I gifted a ridiculously expensive present to Slytherin’s prince…’”

“Shut up,” Emilius muttered, leaning back. “I just want to know who it is so I can return it.”

“Returning it?” Hayden gaped. “That’s a waste. Use it, it’s basically a blessing from above.”

“A very luxurious blessing.”

Emilius didn’t answer. He genuinely had no idea what to make of the gift. He had fully intended to beg his parents for money to refurbish his old broom, especially after last match shredded it, but before he had the chance, the perfect set simply appeared. Neat. Pricey. Professional. Anonymous.

No clues except a neat handwriting: For Slytherin’s best player.

Best player? Maybe. But Emilius knew exactly why that box had been delivered.

Not because of his skill.

Because of his face.

“…Anyway,” he muttered, sitting up. “I’ll have Professor Slughorn check it for enchantments first, just in case.”

Hayden laughed. “Good idea. Imagine if it’s cursed with some love binding spell, use it once and you’re forced to marry some girl.”

Emilius grimaced at the thought.

“Hayden, Pegasus,” he said seriously, “if I ever suddenly fall into some stupid romance, the first thing you two do is slap me. Then drag me to a professor to get the curse removed. Got it?”

“Got it!”

----------------

Emilius leaned back against the wall outside Professor McGonagall’s office, hands shoved into the pockets of his robes, gaze drifting lazily toward the end of the corridor, where the rain kept tapping softly against the stained-glass window.

Fifth year career consultations were an ancient Hogwarts tradition,meaning a form of psychological torture disguised with parchment, endless career lists, and the expectant stares of professors.

Normally, Slytherins were interviewed directly by their Head of House, Professor Slughorn. But this year, luck decided to betray Emilius: Slughorn had accepted an invitation to judge at an international potions symposium in Vienna, conveniently disappearing during career week.

Which meant the entire Slytherin cohort, used to the “honey-bees professor” who smiled, chuckled, and handed out sweets, now had to face Professor McGonagall, whose gaze could pierce through bone.

Emilius didn’t care much about the future. Ministry job? Gringotts? Auror? Just thinking about it made him want to leave and go back to bed.

He wasn’t clueless about the importance of it. But truthfully, he’d never seen himself fitting into any of those paths. Wearing stiff robes and ties all day, knocking sense into people with a wand, or drowning in paperwork for life, every option felt suffocating.

His parents were the “do whatever makes you happy” type, no pressure about legacy or family reputation. But because of that, everything felt loose and directionless. No one expected anything of him. No one pushed him anywhere.

So where was he supposed to go?

Last summer, his cousins from Russia sent a letter suggesting he could come work as a dragon trainer after graduation. Not the Common Welsh Green kind,no, these were Zmey Gorynych, colossal three headed dragons of Slavic origin, best known for guarding treasure and swamps. Apparently the job was “charming”: waking early to feed the dragons, making sure all three heads were accounted for, avoiding accidental immolation, learning lullaby flute techniques, and ending the night sipping vodka on the roof.

Strangely enough, compared to the “respectable” magical jobs in Britain… Emilius found that option not terrible.

The squeal of hinges snapped him out of his thoughts. The office door swung open, and someone stepped out.

Sirius Black.

Both froze for a split second, as if neither expected to run into the other here. Emilius frowned; Sirius went rigid, looking as if he’d just been caught committing a crime.

“…Uh,” Sirius coughed, awkward like he suddenly forgot how human speech worked. “Hi.”

Emilius blinked once, then nodded without expression. “Hi.”

A painfully awkward silence stretched between them, long enough to hear the tick-tock of the wall clock.

Sirius stared at him for a moment, then almost reluctantly asked, “You… doing alright?”

His tone wasn’t the usual Sirius Black arrogance, cocky, loud, self-assured. It was quiet. Almost genuinely concerned.

Emilius raised a brow, unimpressed.

“What?”

“Well, after the match…”

“That match was three days ago, and I’m perfectly fine, thanks,” Emilius answered flatly. He moved to step past Sirius into the office, but suddenly, Sirius grabbed his arm.

Emilius halted, staring down at the hand holding him.

“Wait.” Sirius’ voice was uncertain. None of his old swagger, not even a hint of joking. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just…”

He inhaled, as if gathering courage. “Can we… not be like this anymore?”

“Like what?” Emilius didn’t look at him.

“Tense.”

He didn’t move.

“I’m not tense. You’re just overestimating your importance, Black.”

Sirius let go, but his voice was almost pleading.

“I know I was an ass. A big one. Back then.” He exhaled. “I’m not expecting forgiveness. But at least… I’d like to talk to you properly. Not like I’m trying to get through a wall of ice every time.”

Emilius turned to face him.

His eyes were cold, but something in them shifted, maybe surprise, maybe old anger waking, maybe just… confusion.

“What do you want?”

“I just… want to start over. If you’ll let me.”

For the first time, Emilius didn’t see a proud Black or an obnoxious Gryffindor, just a sixteen-year-old boy trying to fix something he’d once smashed.

“We’ll talk after the career meeting,” Emilius said.

He didn’t wait for a reaction. He knocked and stepped into McGonagall’s office.

The room was quiet, lit by soft daylight filtering through tall windows, casting neat shadows over stacked files. Everything was arranged with precision, strict, orderly, unmistakably McGonagall.

“Good afternoon, Professor.”

“Good afternoon, Ravophine. Please, sit.”

She was wearing her half-moon spectacles, scanning his file quickly. Emilius sat opposite her, hands clasped on his lap, trying not to look impatient.

“I will be handling Slytherin’s career consultations while Professor Slughorn is away for a few days,” she said, closing the folder. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, Professor.”

McGonagall set her glasses down, fingers interlaced. “Well then… have you thought about your plans after graduation?”

A brief pause. Emilius bit the inside of his cheek before admitting, eyes lowered:

“To be honest, Professor… not really.”

She nodded, unsurprised.

“Is it because you don’t know what to choose, or because you don’t particularly want to pursue anything?”

Emilius hesitated, then chose honesty. “Both. I don’t have a clear passion. And I don’t see myself fitting the usual paths, Ministry, Gringotts, or Auror work.”

McGonagall studied him, not sharply, but thoughtfully. “Have you ever considered becoming a professional Quidditch player?”

He blinked. “…Someone mentioned it before, but I never gave it serious thought.”

“I’m not speaking lightly, Ravophine,” she said firmly. “Your flight technique, reflexes, tactical awareness, all exceptional. Not to mention leadership potential. You could go far.”

“I don’t think I’m that remarkable, Professor.”

“You’ve spent years avoiding being remarkable,” she corrected gently. “But your results say otherwise. You’re one of the most talented students I’ve taught, not only in Transfiguration.”

His cheeks warmed, not from pride, but from discomfort. She continued,

“I remember your father. One of the finest wizards of his time. You are not his replica, but the ability you carry is every bit as real.”

Emilius rubbed the back of his neck at that.

“Recently, I received an invitation from relatives in Russia,” he added. “If I don’t have a plan after graduation, they’re willing to help me try working as a Zmey Gorynych trainer.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Zmey Gorynych? The three-headed dragons?”

“Yes, Professor. At a dragon-handling center near the Ural mountains.”

“That is no easy job, Ravophine. Harsh weather, extreme danger.” She paused. “Do you truly think you could adapt to such a life?”

“I’m not sure, Professor,” he admitted. “But at least… it’s different. Worth trying.”

She nodded slightly. “I understand. Still, consider carefully. It requires more than curiosity.”

“I will, Professor.”

She flipped a few more pages, then stopped, looking at him with such seriousness that the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

“There is another path you should consider, Ravophine,” she said slowly.

“Auror.”

Emilius didn’t flinch. “I expected that suggestion.”

“With your skill, it would not be difficult,” she continued, unfazed by his dry tone. “You are among the strongest students I’ve taught. Academically, tactically, magically. Much of it from your father.”

“I don’t want to be an Auror,” he said evenly.

“I don’t want to be a guard dog for the Ministry. Or tied to a system I don’t fully trust.”

McGonagall paused, then gently closed his file, setting aside the formalities.

“Then trust your father.”

Emilius tensed, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Your father was one of the greatest Aurors the Ministry ever had,” she said, not as a professor, but as a witness. “A man of integrity and courage. He never served for the Ministry. He served for those who had no one else to protect them.”

“Times are changing,” McGonagall continued. “Darker. Rumors of Dark activity are growing, and they are no longer rumors.”

Emilius stayed silent, but his gaze wavered.

“You don’t have to believe in the institution,” she said softly. “But if you carry even a piece of his spirit, and I believe you do, then think: is there something worth continuing? In your own way?”

Silence.

“You don’t have to answer now,” she said as she stood. “Just consider it. The world is dimming. And we need wizards who are not only skilled, but principled. Those who can tell true darkness when they see it, and won’t look away.”

Emilius rose as well. He didn’t speak, but he gave a small nod

“Thank you, Professor. I’ll think about it.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

He had just reached the door when McGonagall’s voice called after him.

“Ravophine. You met Mr. Black earlier, I assume?”

He froze. “…Yes, Professor.”

“Professor Slughorn has decided to shorten your remaining detention from two weeks to one. He said your recent performance ‘brought honor to Slytherin,’ therefore you deserve a reduction. And Hagrid reports he no longer has tasks for you.”

She paused.

“So, starting tonight, you’ll be serving the rest of your detention in the Trophy Room.”

Another pause.

“Along with Mr. Black.”

Chapter Text

Cough.

Pegasus looked down at the handkerchief trembling slightly in his palm.

Dark red blotches seeped into the white fabric. He’d coughed up blood again, right after spending four straight hours in the rain cheering at the Quidditch match, then sneaking to Madam Pomfrey the next morning. She had given him a few vials of potion and a pitying look.

“This will help you breathe easier and soothe your throat, Mr. Grey. But your body is far too fragile. I strongly suggest you go to St. Mungo’s—”

“Both you and I know that’d just be a waste of time, Madam Pomfrey.”

Pegasus grinned wide, as if commenting on how lovely the weather was, not on the slow, inevitable decay of his own life.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. Unlike the flustered panic she usually showed whenever a student was ill, she had long since learned that there was nothing more she could do for Pegasus Grey.

It was simply too pitiful.

“Thank you for the potions.”

No one knew. James didn’t know. Sirius didn’t know. Remus… probably suspected, but wasn’t certain. Only Hayden and Emilius knew, and that was the absolute limit Pegasus allowed.

What idiot would willingly let others see how pathetic he was?

Certainly not him.

If they knew he coughed blood every night, sometimes needing a Silencing Charm just so he wouldn’t wake the others,how could anyone treat him normally again?

He hated pity far more than he hated the throat-tearing coughs or the gut-wrenching pain. Hated being treated like some fragile porcelain doll. So Pegasus Grey kept smiling. Louder than everyone else. Brighter. Mischievous, energetic, as if being noisy enough could drown out the sound of his own lungs tearing apart.

The Grey family had spent obscene amounts of money researching cures, but the best they managed was a potion to dull the pain, allowing him to function like a normal child as long as he drank it regularly. That was it. It didn’t strengthen him. Didn’t heal him. It only softened the agony and kept him from collapsing whenever he fell ill.

Inside, his body was still being eaten away bit by bit, each day a quiet step closer to dust.

Every healer who had treated him said Pegasus wouldn’t live past twenty. So why not laugh while he still could?

“Ponyyyyyyy!”

A warm body flung itself onto him from behind. Pegasus staggered, barely keeping his balance, shoving the bloodstained handkerchief back into his robes instantly.

“Prongs, you’re heavy!”

Pegasus peeled James’s arms off his waist and turned around to face the beaming idiot. James was grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling, sign he’d probably just finished causing trouble somewhere.

“So? Another great heroic achievement?”

“I just showed those Slytherins what REAL stink bombs smell like—HA! And with a special ingredient~”

“James, I told you not to bully other- "It’s Avery and Mulciber, Pony! You KNOW how awful those two are. Sirius is off doing career counseling. I got bored, so I tested it on them just a tiniiie bit~”

Pegasus gave him a stern look. James Potter responded with wide puppy eyes behind those ridiculous round glasses. Pegasus finally snorted.

“Tsk. I guess those two deserve it anyway…”

“They’re worse than Snivellus, Pony. I was just returning the favor- Hey, why’s your face so pale?”

James, who had been laughing, froze instantly. He reached out, cupping Pegasus’s cheeks with both hands, eyes widening.

“Pony, your skin is freezing!”

“I just came in from the courtyard.”

“Then why are you dressed so thin?! You’re not even fully recovered, your face is white as paper!!”

James tore off his own scarf and wrapped it tightly around the redhead’s neck before Pegasus could protest. Then he grabbed Pegasus’s dangling hand.

“And no gloves?! Your hands are ice! Pegasus Arnord Grey! Do you know what I’m about to do?! I’ll pick you up, wrap you like a package, tuck you under my arm, and drag you back to the dorm and LOCK YOU INSIDE!”

“Are you my mum now, Potter?”

“I AM your mum, Grey!”

Pegasus watched James huff warm air onto his cold, reddened fingers, a small warmth blooming in his chest. He couldn’t help but laugh, making James glare.

“Funny, is it?”

“Yeah. You panicking is hilarious.”

James pouted, reaching up to pinch his cheek.

“Grey, you’re lucky you’re cute. If not, as your mother, I would’ve put you over my knee right here.”

“Oooh, at least buy me dinner first, Potter.”

Both burst out laughing. Pegasus leaned onto James’s shoulder, still chuckling.

“You know, Prongs… if you showed this caring, responsible side more often, you’d make a much better impression on Lily.”

James froze for a moment, then regained his composure.

“Yeah?”

“Of course. Lily just doesn’t like the arrogant, show-off, prank, obsessed—”

“Pony.”

“—if you stopped pulling stupid stunts and acted sweet like this, trust me, she’d open the door long before you expect—”

James stared quietly at the redhead in his arms. James Potter wasn’t too tall, but the small, delicate boy before him looked like he could fit entirely in his embrace.

Pegasus Grey had skin pale as snow from a sickly childhood spent indoors. Combined with his bright red hair, he practically glowed.

Beautiful. And heartbreakingly fragile.

Among the Marauders, after Sirius, Pegasus was the second most adored, chased after constantly. Unlike Sirius’s sharp, rebellious allure, Pegasus had an elegant, aristocratic charm softened by gentleness.

Sky-blue eyes met warm brown ones, and James felt his heart thump painfully in his chest. After a long moment, he finally spoke, voice awkward.

“Pony.”

“Hm?”

“About that… Lily…”

“Yeah? What about Lily?”

“I and Lily—”

“Pony! There you are! Study group time?”

Hayden approached, arms full of thick Potions textbooks. He and Pegasus had planned to head to the Room of Requirement to revise, and meet Emilius too. O.W.L.s were coming up, and they had to cram as much as possible into Hayden’s head before the boy ascended to heaven prematurely.

“Oh hey, Potter.”

“Hey, Alert.”

James immediately let go of Pegasus, something like disappointment flickering across his face. Hayden squinted.

“Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope. James was just telling me about his ongoing quest to woo Lily. Go on, Prongs, what were you saying?”

“...Nothing. Lily just rejected me again. Uh, have you seen Sirius? He should be done by now.”

Hayden nodded.

“Yeah, I saw him wandering near the stone bats earlier.”

“Thanks. See you guys.”

James turned and walked off. Once he was gone, Hayden scratched his head.

“Does he not like me or something?”

Pegasus patted his shoulder.

“No, he just got rejected by Lily again and he’s sulking. He’ll cheer up once he finds Sirius. Come on, let’s go.”

---------------------

Emilius, what a himbo.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate since this guy’s good at just about everything, except chess.

But when Pegasus Grey and Hayden Alert stepped into the Room of Requirement and saw their golden-haired friend, shirtless, hair tied up, muscles rippling as he did push-ups on the floor, that was the first thing that came to their minds.

And it was kind of funny. Emil was usually lazy to the point of lethargy. If he wasn’t off practicing Quidditch or doing something that required physical training, he’d just lie around reading. So, as best mates, the two immediately sensed something was up.

Emilius had rarely shown much emotion since he was little, apart from his general boredom with life. Whenever something irritated or frustrated him, he would come to the Room of Requirement to release it through action. Sometimes he would box against training dummies, sometimes lift weights, and sometimes, like now, do push-ups.

Unlike ordinary wizards, who might vent with magic, he relied on physical exertion. That’s what made it intimidating.

And as it turned out, Emil had to serve his detention at Trophy Room, and of all people, with Sirius Black.

Hayden and Pegasus looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Having fun, huh?”

Emilius finished his final set and sat up, his face flushed from push-ups or irritation, no one could tell. He also recounted the brief encounter with Black outside the professor’s office, where Black had said he wanted them to “start over.”

“Talk about a narrow alley of fate. Looks like Merlin really likes throwing you two together, Emil,” Pegasus teased.

“Why me? Of all the students in this school, I get stuck with him?!”

“Well, Sirius accidentally pissed off Professor McGonagall in class the other day and got two weeks’ detention. Lucky for you, you only have to deal with him for one week.”

Pegasus glanced down at Emilius’s taut, muscular body as he spoke.

With an arm like that, just a punch, Sirius Black would just be a name on the wind.

“Lucky monkey.”

Today the room had been transformed back into the old space the three of them used before James’s group discovered it, a typical Muggle-style teenage room with a TV, walls covered in posters of movies and bands, board games, a foosball table in the corner, and Emilius’s guitar propped on a chair.

That was why they didn’t want the James gang to see it. It was the three of their private sanctuary.

Hayden waved his wand, making a towel fly over from the corner of the room, and Emilius caught it.

“I’ve never seen you do push-ups this much for anyone. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re showing off for Black.”

Emilius’s sharp, mocking glare burned through the towel.

“Come on, don’t be mad. I get it, Emil. That feeling of knowing he likes you but you’re unsure, and you keep running into each other, it’s gut-wrenching.”

“I don’t have any feelings for Black. There’s no ‘unsure’ here,” Emilius said flatly. “In my eyes, he’s always been a nuisance. Past or present.”

“But you have to acknowledge the significant change in him, Emil. Sirius is genuinely trying,” Pegasus tried to salvage the poor guy’s mood.

“Genuinely trying?” Emilius raised an eyebrow. “You think being nice a few times wipes out the way he treated me before?”

Hayden wisely stayed quiet.

“No. But if you keep digging your heels into the past, you’ll never move forward.”

“Where’d you hear that? Chicken soup for the Soul?” Emilius said, flipping the towel to a clean side and wiping the sweat from his neck.

Pegasus shrugged.

“Well… I know you’re not easily swayed, but you don’t need to act emotionless. You’re not a rock.”

“No. I just choose to treat things fairly,” Emilius replied, his tone calm and measured as if explaining a theorem. “He hated me because I was Slytherin. Hated me for being better at things he thought he had exclusive rights to. Now he suddenly acts like nothing ever happened after my face came out. I can’t swallow that kind of behavior.”

Pegasus let out a small, accepting “huh,” acknowledging that stubbornness was intrinsic to Emilius. And it was true. Some things they could never change about Emilius Ravophine:gifted with exceptional intellect, soaring pride, and a grudgingly stubborn nature

“So what now? A week of detention.”

“Detention or not, I’ll clean the trophies. I’ll be on time, do the job right. As long as Black behaves himself, I will too.”

Pegasus flopped onto the sofa, picking up Emilius’s guitar.

“How’s the practice going?”

“Not much progress, it’s tough,” Emilius spread his hand, the imprints of the strings visible on his fingers. The two others stifled their laughter. The last time they walked in, Emilius had been practicing guitar, and Merlin, they had immediately backed out. The sounds he produced couldn’t really be called music, it was more like a chorus of screaming Mandrakes.

But no one dared say it, not with those huge muscles.

“You know anyone who plays guitar well, Emil?”

“At school? Dunno.”

“Sirius is pretty good; I could have him teach you.”

“Hard pass.”

----------------------

The Gryffindor boys’ dormitory was unusually quiet.

Pegasus Grey pushed the door open, feeling some relief that he was alone. His roommates had probably gone down to the Great Hall for dinner. He changed his robe, took a small vial of medicine from his chest, and drank a sip, the bitter liquid crawling down his throat making him frown. Just as he was about to stand, something fell under Sirius’s bed.

He picked it up. A small piece of paper, folded into thirds. Pegasus thought it was just some scrap. But when he unfolded it, his eyes caught the bold text at the top:

“Purchase invoice from Magical Maintenance & Co. – Includes special protective charm service.”

Below, the description read:

“Deluxe Broom Care & Maintenance Set: includes broom polish, water-repellent wax, dragon-hide cloth, magical stability pouch.”

Recipient: Sirius Orion Black.

At that moment, the door swung open.

Sirius stepped in, unbuttoning his robe, black hair tousled, looking utterly exhausted. He looked up and froze the moment he saw Pegasus holding the paper no one shouldn’t have seen.

A flicker of shock crossed his face.

“Uh… that…” Sirius stammered, something rare. “It’s not what you think.”

Pegasus slowly folded the paper.

“What am I thinking then?”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, face slightly red, unsure whether from embarrassment or awkwardness.

“Just…”

Pegasus smiled triumphantly. “Finally found the culprit who gifted Emil the 30 Galleon broom care set.”

Sirius snatched the paper and shoved it into his robe pocket. “It’s just a gift. His broom was awful.”

“Right, makes sense. Only a Black heir could casually drop 30 Galleons on a gift for someone else like it’s nothing.”

“Look who’s talking, Grey heir.”

Sirius pouted, ears reddened.

Pegasus leaned against the bedpost, eyes narrowing mischievously.

“I guess you overheard our conversation that day?”

Sirius glanced at Pegasus, then turned away as if not caring, but the overdone gesture only made him look guiltier.

“…I knew he wouldn’t accept a gift from me,” Sirius finally said. “Even if it’s from his best friends, he wouldn’t take it. So I had no choice but to stay anonymous.”

Pegasus stayed silent. Watching Sirius Black, proud, reckless, stubborn, now having to find a way to quietly express his feelings to someone who despised him, he felt both amused and… touched.

“Black, you really are a devoted simp,” he sighed.

“Please don’t tell him, I beg you.”

“Alright, alright. Make the most of that detention while cleaning trophies. Who knows, luck might turn your way.”

Sirius snorted. “I’m not expecting much. I’ll be happy if he doesn’t treat me like air.”

“Yeah, don’t expect much. But wash your hands, comb your hair, and don’t be overly ‘Sirius’ in front of Emil if you don’t want a punch.”

Pegasus shivered, remembering that six packs and biceps of the blond.

“I’m serious, don’t provoke him.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

----------------------

Sirius arrived at the trophy room nearly ten minutes early. Something even he found… strange. Detention, not a date. Yet he still made himself look presentable as if heading to a party: uniform neatly pressed, robe without a single wrinkle, hair tidy, the faint scent of soap lingering around his collar. He had even thought about putting on some cologne, but Pegasus had chased him off.

“If you put that stuff on, Emil will throw you off the tower,” Pegasus had said.

Standing in the room, surrounded by trophies sparkling in the dim light, Sirius felt like he was shining just as brightly.

He muttered to himself:

“‘Hi, hello.’ No. Too forced.”

“‘Wow, you’re here to polish the trophies too?’ Yeah, right. Definitely not.”

He exhaled and leaned on the table, forehead nearly hitting the cold wood. Never before had he felt so awkward. He, Sirius Black, who could flirt with three girls in a single evening, now stood fumbling over a boy, someone he had only been picking fight three months ago.

Footsteps echoed from the hallway. Sirius lifted his head, heart pounding. They were coming closer.

He straightened up and smoothed his hair once more.

“Don’t mess this up. Just act normal. Please… just normal.”

The door opened. Sirius turned, nearly forgetting to breathe.

Emilius was the complete opposite of Sirius’s careful grooming. He wore the school white shirt, two top buttons undone, his Slytherin tie lazily hanging around his neck. Beneath, a black thermal layer hugged his body. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing pale, strong wrists. There was something so casually effortless about him that it was impossible to look away.

And that hair, Merlin, that golden hair, tied up at the back of his head in a messy bun that somehow still looked neat and perfect. A wand stuck through the bun like a makeshift hairpin, and a stray lock of hair fell softly against his neck, swaying with each step.

Sirius swallowed hard. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his chest.

“Hey,” Emilius said, his voice flat, his green eyes glancing at Sirius for no more than a second.

But that one second was enough to make Sirius want to spend the entire month polishing trophies.

Chapter Text

Hate was a heavy word. Emilius nearly never used it.

He didn’t hate Sirius Black; he simply didn’t like him.

To Emilius, Sirius was an easy equation.

Quick to bore. Short on patience. Prone to giving up the moment a reward failed to glimmer enticingly in the distance.

Easily stirred by his own emotions, anger most of all. When riled, he lost his grip on language; when wounded, he lashed out. He behaved like a rebel, but the sort that required an audience. Every gesture calculated just enough to look entirely uncalculated. A sort of instinct honed through practise.

He had morals, certainly, but ones loyal only to himself. He didn’t choose what was right, he chose whatever made him feel right. And that was dangerous.

Socially, Sirius belonged to that breed who naturally occupied the centre. He lit up rooms without trying, bending the space around him merely by stepping into it. People like that were often lonely in a very particular way: desperate to be understood, terrified of being truly seen.

He was kind to Emilius. But not out of remorse for past behaviour, rather, out of visual fascination.

People like Sirius were drawn to difference, especially when it happened to be beautiful. And Emilius, much as he hated admitting it, was beautiful, at least by the standards the world had decided upon.

So Emilius had no reason at all to trust him.

As for Dracy? When Emilius was eleven, he might have thought he hated the boy, hated the one who’d turned away from him over something so utterly foolish.
But now he understood that feeling for what it was: resentment.

Emilius didn’t hate Dracy. He couldn’t. There was only resentment.

His first ever friend, the one Emilius had quietly believed to be his “fate”, his soulmate . The first person to see him for who he was, not as the son of a famous Wizard, nor as a child blessed with features inherited from a mother who wasn’t human.

To Dracy, Emilius was simply Emil: the too-tall friend who always be there when he needed help gathering colourful pebbles; the one who held his hand as they clambered from tree to tree; the one who wrapped him up whenever thunder cracked the sky. And to Emilius, Dracy Gallard was the only thing he wished to protect above all else.

For years after being abandoned, Emilius tormented himself with what-ifs. He should have chosen Ravenclaw. Should have been more perceptive, more aware of Dracy’s fear and prejudice towards Slytherin.

Perhaps everything might have been different.

Though Emilius had been Sorted first and could hardly have known where Dracy would go, anywhere would surely have been better than Slytherin. But back then, carefree to the point of foolishness, as only an eleven-year-old could be, he’d simply thought: House doesn’t matter. Even if he landed in Slytherin, he wouldn’t turn into one of those Dark-wizard types. Everyone knew that. The Hat had merely recognised his magical talent and placed him where he might become great.

He had naïvely believed that if Dracy truly understood him, everything would be fine.

But not everyone can rise above their prejudices. And not everyone is mature enough to keep a friendship once it begins to grow complicated.

————-

Emilius had been only six. Far too young to understand why people could treat one another that way, far too young to grasp why his own face could become a reason for someone to wish to possess it. A kidnapping. An act that had come perilously close to being irreversible. His father had found him in time, but that was not enough. The real wound lay somewhere deep within, where no magic could reach.

For weeks afterwards, Emilius wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He refused to look in mirrors. He didn’t want to hear the words beautiful or special. He loathed every strand of blond hair, every feature praised as “unearthly” or “delicate”, every look adults gave him, those admiring yet faintly unsettling glances, as though they were observing a crafted object rather than a child.

That day, Emilius slipped out to the back garden and crawled into the hollow of the old oak tree where he and Dracy always played. Rain came down in sheets, but he didn’t care. He simply sat there, knees pulled tight to his chest, back pressed against the rough bark. Rain and mud seeped into his clothes, cold as stone, but he felt none of it. Everything inside him had gone numb.

Dracy found him at dusk.

“Emil?” Dracy’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Are you all right?”

Emilius looked down at his hands, then murmured, as though confessing an unforgivable sin:

“I’m disgusting. How could anyone… come near me… without feeling sick…”

Dracy froze. He blinked several times, then shook his head fiercely. His small hand closed around Emilius’s, warm and trembling.

“No! Emil, no! It wasn’t your fault! You’re not disgusting! You’re not dirty!”

“It’s this face… that’s why it happened…” Emilius choked.

“If I were uglier… if I didn’t look so much like… like my mother… then none of it would’ve happened…”

Dracy almost burst into tears. He threw his arms around Emilius, hugging him with all the strength a six-year-old could muster. His cheek pressed against Emilius’s shoulder, warm tears falling onto the mud-stained fabric.

“No…” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful person I know. But you’re not beautiful because of your face.

You’re beautiful because you’re Emil. Because you’re you.”

“No matter what happens… I’ll always be here. Emil, you’re the most important person to me.”

Emilius looked at him. In those eyes there was no shadow, only the unclouded tenderness and earnestness of a child who believed the whole world could be healed with a single hug.

For the first time since coming home, Emilius began to cry.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

That sentence carved itself into his heart for years.
Until the one who said it was the first to turn away.

——————

Half an hour had passed since they’d begun.

Aside from a curt “hey”, neither of them had said another word. The only sounds in the room were the soft rasp of cloth against silver trophies and the steady rise and fall of their breathing.

The other boy worked like a machine. Sirius had stolen glances, Merlin knew how many by now, and Emilius still hadn’t lifted his head.

Say something now.

No, not now.

Then when?

At least start with something… anything…

Sirius wanted to speak. There was far too much to say. An apology. A question. Or at the very least, a joke, his usual refuge.

But every word jammed in his throat.

“So…”

Sirius ventured at last, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably.

“Emilius… you and Regulus seem rather close, don’t you?”

The cloth halted for a fraction of a second. Then Emilius replied, mechanical as clockwork:

“Not particularly. He’s a nice kid.”

Sirius nodded, though he knew Emilius couldn’t see it.

“Yeah, he… er, he talks about you sometimes.”

Emilius didn’t answer. He simply moved on to the next trophy. Sirius felt the atmosphere sinking back into suffocating silence, so he plunged on recklessly:

“You know, Emilius, Reg really looks up to you. He’s usually all gloomy and brooding, but the moment your name comes up he brightens right up. My parents don’t much like it, of course, because, well, your family’s sort of the opposite of everything they worship, but Reg—”
Emilius cut across him.

“Why are we talking about your brother, Black? I said we’re not close enough for details. He’s a junior. That’s all.”

“If he’s just some junior you’re not close to, then what were you two sneaking around doing the other night?”

Sirius felt, absurdly, as though he’d just uncovered some grand scandal, but the flicker of triumph died instantly when the blond boy set down the trophy he’d been polishing and turned to face him.

Merlin, he’d just walked himself straight into disaster.

Emilius’s expression didn’t shift, but his eyes… Ravophine looked at him the way one might look at something unpleasant one had stepped on by accident.

“And I fail to see how that has anything to do with you.”

Heat surged to Sirius’s head, and the words flew out before he even realised.

“Regulus’s business does have to do with me! If you two weren’t up to something shady, why be so secretive?”

“What’s wrong with you, Black? Obsessed with your brother or just fond of stalking people?”

“What?! No!”

Emilius dropped the cloth entirely, dusted off his hands, and folded his arms across his chest. His gaze pinned Sirius where he stood.

“Let’s say we were up to something dubious. What exactly would you do about it?”

Sirius froze. He opened his mouth, shut it again, trophy still in hand. It suddenly felt as heavy as lead.

“…I…”

Emilius tilted his head slightly, as though analysing him. Sirius felt every nerve stretched tight, how on earth did this boy manage to look so composed?

“No! I’m not—I mean, that’s not what I meant!” Sirius spluttered. “It’s just… you know… Reg’s my brother, and—”

“And you think that gives you the right to control who he’s close to?”

Sirius’s jaw snapped shut.

“Or perhaps you think I’ve got some ulterior motive with him? Planning to drag him into mischief? Lead him away from the Black family’s sacred ideals?”

“Merlin’s beard, NO!” Sirius roared. “IT’S BECAUSE I LIKE YOU, ALL RIGHT?! IT DRIVES ME MAD THINKING YOU AND REGULUS MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING!”

He slammed the trophy onto the table and stormed towards Emilius, handsome face now ablaze with frustration.

“I’ve said it plainly—why won’t you get it, Emilius?! I. LIKE. YOU!”

Emilius blinked. He looked reluctant. Not the slightest trace of being moved by Sirius’s dramatic declaration.

“You see? This is why we can’t ever have a proper conversation, Black.”

“What?!”

“Regulus would never bother me like this. Even when you shift from hating me to liking me, you’re still a nuisance. Black, how did you even know I was with Regulus in the first place? Were you following us?”

Sirius’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

“I—er—It wasn’t on purpose! I just happened to see—”

“You did it even before I knew you were the big, black dog. You always knew where I was. In the Forbidden Forest, on the way back from Hagrid’s hut, even when I went climbing.”

“Oi! If I hadn’t followed you up that mountain you’d have been dead-meat by now!”

“Sirius Black, if you don’t tell me how you’ve been tracking me, don’t bother saying another word.”

Pressure surged up Sirius’s throat. His palms were slick with sweat despite the cold wind outside. No escape left.

He gritted his teeth, bowing his head. “It’s… the Marauder’s Map.”

“The what?”

Sirius exhaled sharply. “A magical map. I—we made it. It shows every passage in the castle and… everyone’s location. Names, movements. Everything.”

Emilius fell silent. Long enough to frighten him.
“So you used that map,” Emilius said slowly, “to track me?”

“That’s not—!”

“Then what?”

“Because I care about you!” Sirius burst out. He met Emilius’s still, unreadable eyes. “Ever since my feelings for you changed, you’ve been on my mind constantly. I wanted to know where you were, what you were doing, and the map… it made me feel closer to you.”

“I know,” he swallowed hard, his voice small but steady, “I know it sounds twisted, pathetic. I never meant to become that sort of obsessive creep. I just… genuinely like you.”

“We had a horrible start,” he continued. “Because I’m an idiot. Loud, arrogant, convinced the whole world revolves around me. I said horrible things to you… did things you didn’t deserve. I’m sorry. I can’t undo it, but… I’m asking for a chance to start over.”

A quiet fell between them. Emilius didn’t look at him. He stared at the wall ahead, as though reading something invisible written on the stones.

Then at last, Emilius nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “If you want to start over, then start by not bullying people anymore. No picking fights with Slytherins, no tormenting Snape or anyone weaker than you just to feed your ego.”

Sirius felt as if he’d been resurrected. He nodded vigorously.

“Deal! Whatever you say! I swear I won’t lay a finger on Snivellus! Not a hair!”

But then Emilius turned, gaze sharp as a blade.
“And let me be clear: we can start over as friends or something like it, but no matter what you do, nothing more will ever happen between us. I don’t have feelings for you. I won’t. So don’t bother.”

Sirius was quiet for a beat. But instead of looking wounded or offended, he grinned.

“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t have to like me. You can reject me. You can think I’m annoying.”

His grey eyes burned with something stubborn and bright.

“But you won’t make me stop liking you, Emilius.”

Emilius sighed. Talking sense into this boy was like pouring water onto a duck’s back. Fine then, let him be ridiculous. He’d been warned.

Sirius peered at him cautiously.

“So, what was that business with you and Reg, anyway?”

“I was exhausted from Quidditch practice and slept through dinner. Went to the kitchens. He was hungry too, so he asked to come along.”

“That’s it?”

“What, did you want something more dramatic?”

“No, no, that’s fine!”

As they returned to polishing, Emilius suddenly realised something.

“So that means all this time, Pony’s known every single thing, your stalking me, tracking me on that map?”

“Er… yes,” Sirius mumbled. “Sort of. He helped make the map, and he was the one who spotted you and Reg on it.”

The moment he said it, a chill shot down his spine. A murderous pressure rolled off the blond boy, the cleaning cloth crushed to pulp in his hand.

Pony was as good as dead.

Yet at the end of detention, when Sirius was wearily stuffing buckets and rags back into the cupboard, Emilius spoke.

“Hey.”

“What?”

Sirius blinked in surprise at the hesitant look on his face, and then froze at what Emilius said next.

“I never thanked you for that day. You were right; without you I probably wouldn’t be standing here. So… thanks, Black.”

“Sirius!” he corrected instantly, brushing off the look Emilius gave him. Seizing the opportunity, he barrelled on, “And if you really mean it, call me Sirius. New beginnings and all that.”

“…Fine, Sirius.”

“And maybe a kiss of gratitude- All right, all right, no need to roll up your sleeves! Just, remember, names from now on. And don’t pull that grumpy face whenever I call you Emilius, all right?”

“…Whatever.”

Chapter Text

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual that night. A couple of first-years were playing Wizard Chess in the corner, James and Sirius had slipped out to break into Filch’s office and recover a few confiscated treasures for some younger students, and Remus was sitting on the sofa closest to the fire, a book open on his lap. He wasn’t truly reading. A restless sort of tension prickled beneath his skin like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. The full moon was drawing near.

Pegasus lay sprawled sideways across the sofa, head resting on Remus’s thigh, curled in on himself with a pillow clutched to his chest.

“You’re tense, Moony.”

Pegasus said it without looking up, making the scarred boy stiffen before he forced himself to relax again.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“When you’re anxious, your whole body goes stiff as a statue. Hard to sleep on that.”

Remus gave a soft laugh, sliding a hand into the mop of soft, curly red hair.

“Sorry, Pony, it’s just—”

“Full moon’s close. I know.” Pegasus added, “Hard to forget when Prongs has spent the entire day whining about how he ‘can’t wait’ for it so there’ll be something exciting to do.”
At that, Remus’s pale face dimmed slightly. The truth was, ever since the others had begun their Animagus plans, full-moon nights had become less a terror and more something James and Sirius treated like an adventure.

Pegasus, however, was different. He never joked about it. Never treated the idea of transforming and tearing through the Forest with a werewolf as something thrilling. And strangely, Remus found himself grateful for that.

His fingers continued to toy with the fiery curls, and Pegasus, who had always loved having his hair stroked, seemed to be purring like a contented cat.

Adorable .

Pegasus Grey was like the warmth of the hearthfire: bright, comforting, and impossible not to draw close to. He was as handsome as Sirius, as mischievous as James, yet somehow gentler, more perceptive, more grounded. Remus, for all his responsibilities as Prefect, still felt ashamed of the times he turned a blind eye to James and Sirius’s bullying of Snape and the Slytherins.

Pegasus never did.

From the moment the four of them had become a group, Pegasus had stood firmly against bullying. He’d happily join in elaborate pranks, indeed, often leading the charge and dreaming up half their mischief, but never anything meant to humiliate or crush someone simply to feed a grudge. He’d even had blazing rows with James and Sirius over it more times than Remus could count.

Remus could never have been that brave.

Pegasus laughed easily, teased constantly, but he never spoke about himself. Not because he didn’t trust them, Remus didn’t believe that, but more as though… he didn’t want anyone treading into certain corners of his life.

James called it “mysterious charm.” Sirius called it “playing hard to get.” But Remus only felt the distance.

Since first year, Pegasus had always slipped off on his own to “meet a friend.” But whenever they asked who, he never said. It wasn’t until they all saw Pegasus racing down from the Gryffindor stands and throwing his arms around Slytherin’s newest star Chaser that everything finally made sense. Not because Pegasus was embarrassed or felt the need to hide a Slytherin friend, he simply didn’t want anyone whispering or gossiping about Emilius.

Remus reached out to pinch the boy’s cheek, only to flinch the moment his fingers touched skin.

“Pony, you’re freezing.”

“No, you’re just too hot.”

Remus frowned. Yes, a werewolf’s body temperature was always higher than normal, but the redhead truly did look pale. Ever since Christmas he’d been sick on and off.

“Pegasus, have you seen Madam Pomfrey?”

Remus asked seriously. From below, the redhead grumbled, warm breath ghosting across Remus’s thigh.

“Been there. She gave me potions and all. Just a cold.”

“What sort of cold makes you paler by the day?”

“Not a serious one. Don’t you start mothering me, just let me sleep a bit.”

Remus sighed, though his fingers drifted right back into the soft red curls. Pegasus Grey was the most stubborn mule in their group; once he slipped into that sulky tone, everyone knew the argument was over.

“Yes, yes, Your Majesty. Shall your humble servant carry you to bed as well?”

“Don’t wannaa… Like it better like this. You’re warrrmm…”

The muttering grew softer and softer until it faded entirely, replaced by steady, even breathing.

Honestly. Sulking one second, cuddling the next.
With something this adorable, of course Prongs was bound to fall hopelessly.

Remus had noticed James Potter’s feelings long before James himself did. James was the sort who’d deny any inexplicable emotion until it exploded in front of him like a banner hanging off the school gate. But Remus knew.

He’d seen it in every flash of irritation, every grumble when Pegasus spent time with his own circle, defended Emilius… and in the sheer torment James went through when Pegasus stopped talking to him after that disastrous prank.

But it wasn’t until Sirius confessed that he had feelings for Emilius Ravophine, the same person he’d treated as a rival for three straight years, that James was finally forced to confront the truth about his own heart.

And then a few nights ago, when James waited outside the Prefects’ meeting room just to speak to Remus alone, they’d had a long, honest conversation, the first time James Potter openly admitted his feelings for Pegasus Grey. With Sirius too busy chasing Emilius (and pestering the redhead while doing it), Remus had become the only one James could confide in.

“We’re baaack—”

“Shh!”

James, who’d bounced into the room, immediately fell silent when Remus signalled him to hush. Sirius followed behind.

“Awww, look how cosy our Moony and Pony areee.”

Pegasus had been bundled in a blanket and pulled into Remus’s arms, sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Alright, Prongs, don’t look at me like that. Pony’s cold.”

“Now that you say it, he has been oddly cold lately.”

Sirius dropped onto the sofa beside them, reached out, and poked the sleeping boy’s cheek. “Hm. Even now he’s colder than normal. Hey, Moony… you sure Pony isn’t, I dunno… a vampire?”

Remus sighed.

“One magical creature in this group is more than enough, thanks. No need for another. Prongs, come here.”

James looked up as though yanked out of deep thought.
“Huh?”

“Come here,” Remus repeated, gently shifting Pegasus out of his lap. “Carry him to bed. I need to finish this book.”

James hesitated for half a second, then quickly stepped over. His arms slid under the small, sleeping boy, carefully, almost reverently, with a tenderness few ever associated with James Potter. As he turned, the firelight flashed across his glasses, but both Remus and Sirius still caught the expression on his face. A softness almost startling in its clarity.

The dormitory door closed quietly behind him as he carried their peacefully sleeping friend away.

Sirius broke the silence first.

“You think Prongs has been… weird lately?”

“Weird how?”

“…Pony.” Sirius scratched his head. “I feel like he’s… too much whenever Pony’s around.”

Remus leaned back against the sofa, lips twitching.

“And what do you think that means?”

“…No clue.”

Remus rolled his eyes skyward.

“Merlin’s beard, how are you two idiots equally dense when it comes to feelings? The way you act around Emilius is exactly how Prongs acts around Pony. Understand now?”

Sirius froze.

A moment later, a soft, stunned “Oh…” slipped out. He clicked his tongue, flopped his head back against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling like the universe had suddenly updated itself without informing him.

His two best friends. As a couple.

“Yeah… guess that makes sense.” Sirius blinked, then burst into laughter. “So that means we’re about to get another absolutely-unhinged couple in our little club.”

Remus smirked. “Don’t celebrate too soon. Pony seems completely oblivious, and Prongs… well, you know what he’s like.”

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, the idiot chased Lily Evans for years without realising he was in love with his best friend. Thick as a brick.”

A comfortable silence settled. The fire crackled softly, warm light dancing across their relaxed faces.
Then Sirius spoke again.

“You think… Pony would say yes? You know… if Prongs tries?”

“I don’t know. But I do know James won’t give up easily. Same as you.”

“Fair enough.”

“So, how was day two of detention with your crush?”

“Brilliant progress!” Sirius perked up immediately, elbows on his knees. “You won’t believe it. He talked to me!”
Remus put on an exaggerated gasp.

“He can talk?”

“No you moron, you know what I mean, he answered me naturally! Not short, dead-inside replies like usual.” Sirius folded his arms proudly, nodding like he’d just achieved something monumental.

“I asked one question about Muggles, Emil answered with three sentences. And he looked me in the eye. Actually looked! Not the blink-and-miss-it glance he usually does. Just talk to him about muggle stuff and he lights up! Adorable as hell!”

“And we have things in common! Emilius loves Muggle bands: The Beatles, Queen, Elvis! Same as me! We talked for ages.”

Remus chuckled. “At this rate you two might become best friends by next Christmas.”
“Friends? Please.” Sirius waved a hand. “I’m aiming for marriage.”

“You’re insane.”

“Insane with love.” Sirius propped his chin in his hand, face slipping into a dreamy look concerningly quickly.

“Moony, you didn’t see him cleaning today. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, arms all toned, absolutely—”

“Alright, stop, I don’t need details.”

Remus sighed, exasperated, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, Padfoot… you’re properly smitten.”

“And you’re stuck with those friends who are all in love and all completely hopeless.” Sirius flicked Remus’s forehead.

Remus batted his hand away. “Go to bed, you hopeless romantic.”

“Yeah, gotta plan our future wedding.”

“Careful. If Ravophine hears you, you won’t live long enough to see that day.”

——————

The world really has a talent for pulling the strangest tricks.

If someone had gone back three months and told Emilius that he would one day spend a peaceful detention evening with Sirius Black, even managing to hold a normal conversation without trying to rip each other’s throat out, he would’ve assumed that person had lost their mind.

And yet, starting from their second detention, Sirius Black had been… surprisingly tolerable.

Much as Emilius hated to admit it, Black, when he wasn’t treating him like a personal rival, was actually decent to talk to. Especially when the topic drifted toward Muggles, something Sirius clearly knew a lot about, and something Emilius happened to enjoy.

They ended up having perfectly normal conversations about movies and music.

(And Emilius had to use every drop of self-control he had not to get visibly excited every time Queen, The Beatles, or Elvis Presley came up. Merlin, he LOVES them.)

“Here you are, Emilius. Spotless!”

Professor Slughorn placed the broom-maintenance kit onto the desk with a flourish, eyes shining as though he were returning a priceless artifact. “Seems like it was a gift from someone who’s quite the admirer of yours.”

That honey-sweet smile, the one he always reserved for his “promising” students, was aimed straight at Emilius. But Emilius couldn’t bring himself to mirror even a hint of it.

“Thank you, professor.”

“Not at all, my boy,” Slughorn said, voice warm and booming. “You haven’t attended a Slug Club dinner in quite some time now. Of course, of course, I understand, a brilliant student like you must be terribly busy! O.W.L.s are right around the corner. But, Emilius, my dear…”

His tone dropped into something loaded, suggestive.
“You have everything: excellent grades, a striking appearance, and a natural presence that will take you very far. But life isn’t built on academics alone, my boy. There are dinners worth attending, connections worth making… and opportunities. Students like you, if they learn to seize these moments, can walk through any door they want.”

Emilius remained silent, letting the man talk. He’d learned long ago that if he didn’t agree with someone, sometimes the safest thing to do was to say nothing.

Slughorn either didn’t notice or didn’t care about Emilius’ stone-cold expression. He moved to his desk and picked up a photograph, lifting it to eye level with a soft, nostalgic sigh, as though he were holding a treasured.

“Your father, Roderick, was truly one of the most gifted students I ever taught.”

He handed the picture to Emilius.

The photo showed a group of sixteen or seventeen-year-olds raising their glasses, Slughorn standing in the middle, slightly less bald than he was now, and beside him, a boy smiling politely as the professor rested a hand on his shoulder. Even though the picture was black and white, Emilius could easily imagine the dark brown hair, the green eyes.

Because they were the same eyes he saw every morning in the mirror. Aside from that, father and son shared almost nothing else.

Young Roderick was thin, with an unassuming look; the only striking feature on his face was the brightness in his intelligent eyes. He seemed gentle, calm. Unlike Emilius, he hadn’t played Quidditch, according to Slughorn, Roderick had been a prodigy in Wizard’s Chess instead, even winning an international title once. And, like Emilius, he’d been exceptional at dueling.

“…The most gifted wizard of his generation, a legendary Auror,” Slughorn went on, still singing praises. “A pity he wasn’t in my house, really. But in the end, I still have you, Roderick’s son. And Merlin, you’re no different from him! Exceptionally talented, Emilius. I’ve never misjudged a student. I know you’ve been holding yourself back all these years to avoid attention, but the power you possess is extraordinary. Shame I couldn’t speak with you personally during career consultations, but Minerva mentioned you’re still unsure about your direction. My boy, with your talent and your lineage… all you need is for me to open a few doors. The world out there is always ready to welcome another Ravophine, if only you’d step out of that heavy shell of yours.”

Merin beard, this man could talk forever.

Emilius glanced once more at the boy in the photograph before setting it back down.

The name Roderick Ravophine had always gone ahead of him, like a colossal shadow no one expected him to surpass, but never allowed him to forget.

And Emilius didn’t hate his father. He simply wasn’t him.
Everyone wanted him to do something grand, something spectacular, something “worthy of Roderick’s son.” To not “waste his talent,” or whatever nonsense they liked to spout.

No one had ever asked what he actually wanted.

He didn’t quite remember how he managed to escape Slughorn’s office, mostly a blur of polite nodding, but somehow he’d ended up agreeing to attend the Slug Club’s spring party, if only to satisfy the old man enough to let him go.

Back in his dorm, he placed the broom-maintenance kit in a corner.

It had been checked and confirmed curse-free, but the idea of using such an expensive gift from some mysterious admirer made his skin crawl. Better to leave it untouched, for now.

Then Emilius pulled out a neatly wrapped present from beneath his pillow.

A gift from his parents.

Today was his birthday. January 18th.

He peeled off the wrapping paper, and nearly jumped in delight.

A Polaroid camera. A proper Muggle one. A good one.
A soft laugh escaped him.

“Of course. They always get me.”

Emilius loved photographs. Not the magical kind that wriggled and blinked and changed positions, but Muggle photos: still, silent, capturing a moment forever, unchanged no matter how many years passed.

Odd. But most of his interests had always been “odd.”

He slipped the Polaroid into his bag and headed toward Hogsmeade, where his two best friends had gone ahead. In all five years at Hogwarts, no one besides those two, and a Ravenclaw, knew when his birthday was. Every year they met at the Three Broomsticks for gifts, food, and a loud, chaotic celebration.

(It wasn’t exactly different from any other outing, but for Emilius, that was enough.)

He couldn’t begin to imagine what those nosy students who scrutinized him daily would do if they ever learned about his birthday.

And unfortunately… that might not stay hidden for long.

Chapter Text

The stone courtyard stretched out before him, covered in a thin layer of late-winter morning mist. Emilius shoved his hands into the pockets of his cloak and headed toward the wooden bridge leading out of the school. In his head, he was picturing the hidden passage Pegasus had described, just a useless-looking stretch of stone wall that actually concealed an exit only a few people knew about.

After being “interrogated” the day before, the redhead had finally spat out a few of the secret routes the Gryffindors had discovered while making the Map. According to him, there were seven in total that led out of Hogwarts, and the stone wall near this wooden bridge opened to an alley behind Tomes & Scrolls in Hogsmeade.

The courtyard was empty now; most students had gone to lunch or already headed to the village. Emilius turned the corner of the stone corridor.

And froze.

At the end of the hallway, Dracy Gallard was being shoved up against the wall, collar yanked tight, head tilted back. Mulciber stood in front of him, broad body blocking most of the view, while Avery leaned against the opposite wall, pale grey eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“So now I get why that dead fish Ravophine hates you so much. Gallard, that arrogant attitude of yours, acting like Slytherin’s trash, it’s irritating as hell. You think you’re better than us?”

Dracy didn’t answer. His eyes were filled only with plain, sharp contempt. Not a hint of fear. His wand lay a few steps away, with Avery casually grinding his heel onto it.

Avery smirked, voice stretching out as if explaining something to a slow-witted child:

“Look at that… typical Ravenclaw brat. Nose buried in books all day, but the second you actually have to think, your brain turns to sludge.”

He tilted his head, eyeing Dracy up and down:
“What’s wrong? Trying to remember if any of those books had a chapter on how to escape this? If yes, read it out loud for us.”

Mulciber snorted, tightening his grip and slamming Dracy harder into the wall.

“Now that I look carefully… this little albino’s not bad looking.” His voice dropped lower, an ugly grin sliding across his face. “Wonder what you’ll look like when you finally break.”

“Let him go.”

Emilius’ voice cut through the hallway, cold enough to knock the laughter out of both boys.

He stood at the entrance, shadow stretching long across the stone floor, wand already drawn, but it was his eyes that made the air drop a few degrees.

“Well well, look who’s here…” Mulciber drawled, still gripping Dracy. “The great Ravophine. Playing hero today? Must be nice having so much free time.”

Emilius moved forward, eyes locked onto Mulciber.

“Last time. Let him go.”

Dracy stayed silent, blue eyes fixed straight ahead, but his breath faltered slightly when he saw Emilius.
“Still wearing those stupid glasses, Ravophine? What’s the point? Everyone knows that pretty doll face of yours.”

“What I wear is none of your damn business, Avery. Now drop Gallard and get the hell out of my sight.”

Despite their size and their usual swagger, the memory of that humiliating beating from before, along with the murderous look in Emilius’s eyes, was enough to stop the two from acting any bolder. Both of them knew perfectly well they were no match for Emilius Ravophine, not in magic and not in physical strength.

“Huh, suck up to the Gryffindors all you want, and now you think you’re some hero, huh, Ravophine? Everyone in this school knows you hate Gallard’s guts. What’re you poking your nose in for?”

Emilius stopped just a few steps away from Mulciber, gaze unwavering.

“Who I hate is my business. But what I won’t tolerate is bottom-feeders like you laying hands on someone right in front of me.”

Mulciber clenched his jaw, ready to retort, but Avery nudged him with an elbow.

They released Dracy, throwing one last insolent glare his way.

“Watch yourself, Ravophine. This isn’t over…” Mulciber growled before he and Avery backed off into the far end of the corridor and disappeared behind the corner.

Once the two Slytherins were gone, the stone courtyard fell into an oddly heavy silence. Dracy straightened his collar, then bent down to pick up his wand from the floor.
His eyes were cold, devoid of even a shred of gratitude.

“I didn’t need you to interfere.”

Emilius’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but the weight behind each word filled the air between them.
“Right. You never needed me. You looked perfectly capable back there with Mulciber pinning you to the wall.”
For a split second, Dracy froze, just barely, but enough for Emilius to notice. Those eyes were the same as years ago, yet now they looked at him like he was a stranger.

“So why are you still standing here? Isn’t today your big day? Alert and Grey are probably waiting for you in Hogsmeade to celebrate.”

Emilius pressed his lips together, but looking at Dracy now, his robe wrinkled, platinum hair in disarray, the rims of his eyes faintly red despite his attempt to look composed, something inside Emilius tightened painfully.

He had never truly get over Dracy.

“You look… pathetic,” Emilius murmured, losing the sharpness he usually had. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah. I hate you for what you did to me.” Emilius held his gaze, anger and hurt flickering beneath. “But I also…”
He swallowed the rest of the sentence and stepped back, as if afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t. But the moment he turned away, Dracy blurted out:

“Wait!”

He inhaled shakily, shoulders trembling.

“Emi- Emilius… I’m… sorry. I regret .”

Emilius went still.

“What did you just say?”

“Back then… I was just a stupid eleven year old who thought he understood everything, but honestly, I didn’t know anything at all. I thought that… if I cut things off with you first, then I wouldn’t have to…”

Dracy swallowed hard. “…wouldn’t have to face what I was feeling.”

“Five years… was more than enough for me to realize how horribly wrong I was. I missed you. So much. But I… I was too stubborn. Too prideful. Every time I wanted to apologize, I kept telling myself you wouldn’t care anyway, so… I didn’t.”

Dracy was saying he regretted it all, wasn’t this what Emilius had wanted to hear for years?

“…what feeling?”

Dracy no longer met his eyes.

“Dracy Gallard, what feeling did you have for me? After everything, after how important you were to me back then, more than Pegasus, more than Hayden, don’t you understand that?”

“…I think I always wanted something more than friendship.” Dracy’s voice was so soft that if the corridor weren’t so quiet, Emilius might’ve missed it. “But then you were sorted into Slytherin… and I… just couldn’t accept it.”

Emilius studied the boy before him. Dracy had grown: still slender, but taller now. His platinum hair, though tousled, still gleamed; his face no longer had the childlike softness from his memories, instead refined and striking like a sculpture wrought to perfection.

A version of Dracy he’d forced himself to hate.

“Emilius, I know… you won’t believe me right away. But I’m not saying all this to make you forgive me.” Dracy took a breath, fists tightening at his sides. “I just want you to know. That for the past five years, not a day has gone by where I didn’t think of you. And I… wish I’d done things differently.”

Emilius’s heart wavered. For the first time in years, Dracy’s voice held no coldness, no arrogance, only sincerity laid bare. But the past was not something undone with a few words of regret.

“I… need time.”

He turned away, the hem of his black robe brushing against the cold breeze. Dracy’s “I wish I’d done things differently” rang through his mind, stirring memories he had buried deep: their laughter under the autumn trees, the secrets only the two of them shared, that childish promise of marriage… and the cruel betrayal that followed.

Things could have been so different for us.

He told himself he had closed that chapter, but his heart, treacherous as ever, beat wildly out of rhythm.

Neither of them noticed the shadow hidden behind the stone wall, among the thick rows of trees, had heard everything.

————-/—-

“Happy Birthda- You blockheaded idiot!” Pegasus slammed a hand onto the table with a loud thump, causing Hayden’s butterbeer to slosh over the rim.

“Come on! Try smiling! We’re here for your birthday, not sending you off to Azkaban.”

The private room on the second floor of the Three Broomsticks was warm, filled with the sweet scent of butterbeer. Candlelight flickered over the worn wooden walls, and in the middle of the table sat a round chocolate cake, sprinkled with sugar and topped with small candles dancing like they were desperately cheering for the party atmosphere.

“Yeah, made it to sixteen somehow. Amazing.”

Emilius took a long swig of butterbeer. The warm, creamy sweetness slid down his throat, but did nothing to chase away the lingering cold from the stone corridor earlier.
Those words, those eyes, Dracy’s trembling “I regret it”, they all echoed relentlessly. Each word, like a tiny needle, stabbing into his chest.

“Hey, are you listening?” Hayden waved a hand in front of him. “Pony’s asking whether you want to open presents first or eat cake.”

“Uh… whatever’s fine,” Emilius replied vaguely.

He wasn’t ready to tell them. Not yet.

Pegasus sighed dramatically, but still shook Emilius’s brand-new Polaroid camera. “Fine. Today’s your birthday, so I’ll be extra cute or whatever. BUT. I swear, if we don’t get at least one picture with you smiling, I am going to—”

“- public the picture of you passed out in Transfiguration,” Hayden added mischievously.

“Your fanclub would absolutely explode.”

“If I die, I’m dragging both of you down with me. Consider yourselves warned.”

“So are you going to smile or not?”

“…”

Ignoring the murderous glare from his friend, Hayden mysteriously brought his hands forward, two palms cupped together, and held them out to Emilius.

“Thanks, Hayden, but I don’t think I can accept your hands as a birthday present.”

“Oh, shut up, smartass. Just guess.”

Emilius squinted between Hayden’s excited face and Pegasus’s shit-eating grin, an ominous feeling creeping up his spine.

“…I give up. This better not be some stupid prank.”

“Tch, boring. Ta-da!”

Emilius looked down.

Sitting neatly in Hayden’s cupped hands was

A hedgehog.

Emilius: ?

How in Merlin’s name was he supposed to guess THAT?

“Behold, your new best friend, Emil! Go on, pet him!”

Emilius: Pet… WHERE exactly??

Pegasus, absolutely thrilled, gently stroked the tiny hedgehog’s head, the only part not covered in spines, while the little creature stared at Emilius with round, curious eyes. Emilius, meanwhile, examined it like he was trying to determine whether it was a harmless pet… or some elaborate jinx in disguise.

“You’re actually giving this to me?”

“Obviously,” Hayden replied, perfectly casual as if gifting someone a hedgehog for their birthday was the most normal thing in the world. “I visited my cousin Harrow over Christmas. His hedgehog breeding pair had a litter, so I snagged this little guy for you.”

Emilius shot Pegasus a look. “You’re complicit in this?”

“Complicit? I fully endorsed the plan,” Pegasus grinned.

“From now on, you’ll have a little buddy in the dorm. Might help you stop looking like the world owes you money.”

“Bullshit, I’m always cheerful.”

“Cheerful my arse.”

Emilius sighed, turning back to the tiny hedgehog wriggling gently in Hayden’s hands. Its quills were a creamy off-white, and its face and belly were covered in soft, fluffy fur. Its dark bead-like eyes blinked innocently, so adorable that even the tangled mess in Emilius’s chest loosened a little.

Hayden held the creature closer. “Here, try petting him. His belly’s soft.”

After a moment of hesitation, Emilius reached out and lightly scratched the soft little belly. The hedgehog wriggled happily, letting out a small squeaky “hff” as if greeting him.

For the first time that day, Emilius felt his face relax.

“So what’s his name?”

“You pick,” Hayden said with a wink. “He’s yours now.”

“But please don’t name him ‘Spike’ or ‘Pointy.’ That’s just depressing.”

Pegasus had a point. Emilius wasn’t exactly known for creative naming, mostly due to his blunt, no-nonsense personality. As a kid, he’d named his pet fish Stripe 1, Stripe 2, Stripe 3… because they had stripes.

“…Вера.”

Hayden and Pegasus froze.

“…What?”

“Bepa. It’s Russian. It means… ‘faith.’”

Pegasus let out a teasing whistle. “Ooh, poetic. Doesn’t sound like the same guy who named his fish ‘Stripe 1, Stripe 2, Stripe 3.’”

“People mature, you know,” Emilius shot back, but his hand remained gentle as it brushed the tiny hedgehog curled in his palm.

Vera squirmed and nuzzled its little nose into his hand, as if accepting him as its new safe place.

Hayden smiled. “Yeah… Faith. I like it. Maybe he’ll bring you some luck.”

Emilius didn’t respond, eyes lingering on the small creature. Deep down he knew, luck was questionable…
But a little faith?

Maybe he really did need that.

“Thanks, Hayden. It’s… a great gift.”

“No problem. But careful, Emil, when your fanclub see Bepa, they’re gonna lose their minds.”

“Yeah, I can already see it. The ‘Icy Prince of Slytherin’ and his adorable pet.”

“…Bloody hell.”

————————

Later that night, as usual, Emilius headed to the Trophy Room with Sirius to continue their never-ending “cleaning punishment.” The dim yellow lamplight washed over the countless polished trophies and medals, scattering their reflections across the stone walls.

Inside his robe pocket, Bepa wiggled softly, occasionally shifting as if to remind him he was there. Emilius rested a hand on the pocket, feeling the tiny warmth through the fabric. The hedgehog didn’t make a sound, only sniffed quietly and nibbled on the small apple piece he’d smuggled along.

All day, Bepa had been the only thing keeping Emilius’s mind from spiraling back to the morning, and Dracy’s eyes. The little creature’s presence anchored him, kept him steady when his thoughts tried to claw their way out of control. Bepa was calm, sweet, and seemed to devour anything Emilius handed him like a bottomless pit.

Meanwhile Sirius was humming some off-key tune while polishing a plaque, occasionally glancing over, but Emilius didn’t bother to look back.

“Hey, you seem… quieter than usual today,” Sirius said, wiping a golden plate while shooting Emilius a sideways glance. “Did someone piss you off again?”

Emilius kept polishing the trophy in his hands, giving only a vague, noncommittal noise that could’ve meant either yes or no.

Sirius narrowed his eyes and planted his polishing broom against his hip.

“We made good progress yesterday, didn’t we? And now suddenly you’re all distant again. What’s going on?”

Bepa shifted inside Emilius’s robe pocket, sensing the tension. Emilius paused for a moment, fingers brushing the soft quills, before continuing his work.

“It’s nothing,” he said curtly.

“Nothing? You really think I can’t tell?” Sirius frowned, irritation flickering in his eyes, but mostly concern.

“If I did something wrong, say it. Don’t just clam up like that.”

Emilius’s hand tightened slightly over his pocket, the softness of Bepa’s quills helping him steady his breath. He knew Sirius meant well. But right now wasn’t the time.

Sirius was still waiting for an answer when Emilius’s pocket suddenly… wriggled.

“…”

Emilius stiffened, feeling Bepa’s soft quills poking insistently into his side.

“What’s wrong with you? You’re squirming like a caterpillar,” Sirius said suspiciously.

“It’s nothing.” Emilius shifted his weight, trying to settle Bepa, but the hedgehog only squirmed harder, to the point he had no choice but to slip off his outer robe.

And then- flop!

A Polaroid photo tumbled out, sliding across the floor until it landed by Sirius’s foot.

Sirius blinked, bent down, and picked it up. A spark of mischief lit up in his eyes.

“Oh? What do we have here…”

“Give that back!” Emilius reached out, but too late.
The photo showed Emilius holding Bepa in his hands, his usually serious face relaxed, almost smiling. At the corner, in Pegasus’s bubbly handwriting, was written:

“Birthday Boy & New Bestie.”

Sirius froze.

“…It’s your birthday today?”

Emilius looked away. “…Yeah.”

“Merlin—” Sirius made a strangled noise somewhere between a bark and a gasp. “I didn’t even know! Bloody hell, imagine being this stupid on your crush’s birthday-”

Emilius looked up sharply. “What was that?”

“Nothing! I didn’t say anything!” Sirius said far too quickly, but right that moment, Bepa poked his tiny head out from Emilius’s robe, big black eyes blinking at Sirius before letting out a soft hff.

“WOAH!” Sirius practically lit up, crouching down to see better.

“Merlin Beard! Such an adorable little guy! What’s his name?”

“…Bepa. Hayden gave him to me.”

“Can I hold him?”

“…Yeah.”

Sirius lifted Bepa carefully, beaming. “That’s wild, his quills aren’t sharp at all. What does ‘Bepa’ mean?”

“It’s Russian. It means ‘faith.’”

“Faith, huh? That’s… really nice. You speak Russian?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius continued admiring the tiny hedgehog, though there was something thoughtful lingering in his expression.

“Alright… listen.” He gently handed Bepa back, then rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“When we’re done here… come with me to the kitchens. I’m treating you to a late-night birthday snack.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“It is,” Sirius shot back immediately. His grey eyes were steady, warm in a way Emilius wasn’t used to.

“We just started rebuilding this whole friendship thing, right? And friends celebrate each other’s birthdays. That’s how it works.”

Emilius looked at him, really looked, and was about to argue when Sirius continued, voice more serious than usual:

“If I’d known earlier, I’d have gotten you a gift. But since I didn’t- ” he shrugged, a familiar half-smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth “I’ll make up for it with a late-night feast. Simple. No fuss. Come on, Emilius.”

Something in Sirius’s eyes made Emilius pause.

“…Alright.”

“Deal!” Sirius grinned, giving Emilius a solid slap on the shoulder. making Bepa let out an indignant hff! again.

“And this little guy gets to come too. Honorary guest of the evening.”

Chapter Text

Both of them slipped into the pitch dark corridor, keeping close to the walls to avoid lantern light and the sharp clack-clack of Filch’s boots.

“Stay close, Emilius. If I get caught this time, Mirneva’s gonna string me up the Astronomy Tower,” Sirius whispered, a mischievous grin glinting in the darkness.

As if only you know how to navigate this castle, Emilius thought dryly.

Eventually they reached the castle kitchens. Sirius expertly scratched the pear on the fruit painting, making it giggle and swing open the hidden door.

Inside, the house-elves swarmed them instantly. Emilius had always been kind to them, and the elves adored him, one of them practically sprinted to pull out a chair for him.

“We want a huge birthday cake!” Sirius announced proudly.

“No,” Emilius cut in just in time. “I’ve had enough cake today. Something simple.”

The elves gasped and began chattering excitedly.
“Oh! It is young master Ravophine’s birthday?!”

“Happy birthday, Master Ravophine! Happy birthday!”

“Birthday must have cake! A big one! A very special cake for dear Master Ravophine!”

“No!” Emilius raised his voice, and they all froze. “Listen. Thank you, really. But I already ate a lot earlier today. So please just make something small, alright?”

“Yes! Of course, sir!”

Sirius glanced at the elves bustling with joy and let out a whistle.

“Look at you, Mr. Popular~”

“A little kindness goes a long way. You should try it sometime.”

“I am kind.”

“Drop that pompous tone when you talk to house-elves first. Then we’ll discuss kindness.”

“Don’t be so stiff. You sound like Mirneva.”

“Professor McGonagall.”

Emilius turned away, missing how Sirius leaned down to whisper something into a nearby elf’s ear. The elf nodded frantically, eyes sparkling, and vanished on the spot.

When Emilius looked back, Sirius was resting his chin on his hand with a face so innocently suspicious it bordered on insulting.

“…What did you just tell him?”

“Nothing,” Sirius said, his grin sharp and foxlike. “Just asked for a little extra… seasoning.”

Emilius frowned. His instincts screamed that nothing good ever came from Sirius Black’s “seasoning.”

A small cake was carried out soon after, no larger than two cupped hands, frosted with white cream and dotted with bright red raspberries. Sirius even added a single candle on top.

Emilius stared at the scene, suddenly disoriented.

Sirius Black and him, alone together in the kitchens with a circle of enthusiastic house-elves…

And Sirius Black holding a birthday cake for him.

“A month ago this would’ve been the weirdest nightmare of my life,” he muttered. “With an entire audience of house-elves, too.”

Indeed, the elves formed a perfect circle, eyes shining, clapping like they were witnessing a sacred ritual.

Bepa poked his tiny nose out of Emilius’s robe, staring at the cake with great interest. Emilius lifted him onto the table, and Sirius immediately stole a slice of apple and offered it.

“For you, little guy. Enjoy.”

Bepa, who’d been eyeing Sirius suspiciously a moment earlier, brightened and dove into the fruit.

Bribery: successful.

Just then, the elf Peeky returned, struggling under the weight of a guitar.

Emilius froze.

Sirius stood, took the guitar, then turned toward Emilius with a ridiculously elegant bow.

“May the star of tonight, Emilius Ravophine, take his seat, and enjoy a cozy birthday celebration… accompanied by a live performance from the sole artist of the evening: Sirius Black.”

The elves “oooh!” in perfect harmony.

…Of course only you would come up with something like this.

Emilius sat, Bepa still staring wide-eyed. Sirius strummed a few warming chords. Pegasus hadn’t lied, Sirius played well, fingers deft, melody smooth, and soon the familiar birthday tune rolled off his tongue.

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Sirius had a gifted voice

He sang while looking straight at Emilius, that half-mischievous, half-gentle smile tugging on his lips. The song was simple, even cliché, but somehow, through Sirius’s voice, it felt personal. Warm. Like the words were crafted just for him.

Bepa tilted his head, big black eyes following Sirius’s elegant fingers as he played, occasionally letting out a tiny hff as if humming along.

Sirius, from the first note to the last, never once looked away from Emilius. His gaze was intent, burning, as though in this entire kitchen there was no one else but him.

Happy birthday dear Emil

Emilius sat there, every muscle in his body rigid. The whole situation felt… unbearably sentimental. Completely unlike him.

But as he watched Sirius sing, watched the way Sirius looked at him, so openly, so intensely, so sincerely, he found himself sitting still, listening all the way to the end.
A bitter thought flickered through his mind:

In third year, this same boy publicly declared that even breathing the same air as him was annoying.

And now here he was, guitar in hand, singing him a birthday song.

So this is what Sirius Black becomes when he’s pursuing someone?

Then again… how many people had he used this trick on?
Emilius clenched his fists on his lap, eyes fixed on the candle trembling atop the little cake.

He was far too familiar with people’s gazes, whether hateful or admiring, they always circled back to the same thing: his face. Never once had he truly felt he could trust anyone’s heart.

Sirius Black. Dracy Gallard.

Why did they think that after all the ways they’d hurt him, a few apologetic words, a few sweet gestures, could magically reset everything?

Pain didn’t vanish just because the person who caused it said “sorry.” The agony that once tore him apart, no one had carried that weight for him.

An eleven-year-old child abandoned under Dracy’s distant stare.

A thirteen-year-old boy treated like an enemy by Sirius for no justifiable reason, mocked, insulted, humiliated.

Emilius had survived those years alone, swallowing bitterness, building his own cold, indifferent armor.
And now they returned, claiming regret. Wanting to make amends. Wanting to be friends again.

Was he supposed to smile and accept that?

No. One apology could not mend fractures carved deep.
One warm gaze could not erase memories of rejection and contempt.

Why did they think he was so easy to forgive?

He lowered his lashes, hiding the flicker of bitterness.
No matter how sincere Sirius seemed, he was just another person dazzled by the surface.

One day, he’d turn away like all the others.

“…Happy birthday to you~”

The last note rang out, and the house-elves burst into applause. Sirius looked all the more pleased, eyes gleaming, waiting for praise.

“…Thanks. Not bad. Just… a little over the top.”

“Over the top but effective,” Sirius winked, setting the guitar aside and pushing the cake toward him.

“Come on, blow the candle~”

Emilius hesitated, glancing around the kitchen now glowing with warm candlelight, at the eager faces of the elves, and at Sirius, waiting with those bright, hopeful eyes.

Finally, he closed his own eyes, whispered a private wish, and blew out the candle.

A thin wisp of smoke curled upward and faded. Sirius rested his elbow on the table, tilting his head, voice teasing yet gentle:

“So? What’d you wish for? Tell me.”

Emilius picked up the small knife, slicing a piece of cake without looking up.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

Sirius grinned, shrugging theatrically, though curiosity burned brighter in his eyes.

He snatched the slice Emilius had cut, slyly dragging the whole plate toward himself.

“Okay then, I’ll guess… You wished to meet a handsome, charming guy who plays guitar, sings well, and has a perfect personality—”

“I’m holding a knife. Watch it.”

Sirius burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the kitchen. The house-elves giggled with him, setting down a tray of fruit and a jug of pumpkin juice.

One tiny elf even placed a miniature dish in front of Bepa with slices of apple.

The hedgehog happily launched into them, crunching with delighted little huffs.

By the time the cake was reduced to crumbs, the elves bustled around cleaning up, bowing before drifting away. The kitchen quieted, candlelight flickering softly across the walls.

Bepa, full and content, curled up in Emilius’s robe, wriggling like a kitten.

“Pony told me,” Sirius began casually, “that both of you grew up in Godric’s Hollow. But you’re into Muggle stuff?”
Emilius took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Maybe it didn’t hurt to tell him.

“My family moved into the Muggle world when I was seven.”

“Really?” Sirius blinked. “You lived completely among them?”

“Yeah. My father’s reputation made him a target for Voldemort. So by the time I was seven, we went into hiding. Almost no one knew where we lived. To the neighbors… we were just normal Muggles.”

Yes. Because of that horrible incident when he was six.
Afterward, his family disappeared from the magical world, retreating into safety.

Roderick had refused to risk another threat near his family.

“So you’ve basically lived two lives.”

For a moment Sirius grew quiet, thoughtful.

“The Blacks are the same, you know. Just… flipped.”

He huffed a laugh. “They’re so extreme they treat Muggles and anyone on the light side like filth. I grew up suffocating in that world.”

He looked straight at Emilius.

“And you had to hide being a wizard just to live safely.
I was forced to be nothing but a pure-blood wizard. Two opposite directions.”

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

“And yet here we are. Eating cake and drinking pumpkin juice together.”

Emilius glanced at him.

“What exactly are you trying to conclude?”

Sirius grinned.

“That maybe the two of us are both misfits in our own way. You’re good at hiding, I’m good at rebelling. Sounds like we match pretty well, don’t you think?”

He propped an elbow on the table, tilting his head at Emilius, a smile hovering between teasing and sincerity:

“Maybe I should count tonight as a big step forward in our… relationship. Who knows, from ‘friends’ to ‘close friends,’ and then, well… more.”

His eyes slid toward Emilius, the implication painfully obvious.

Emilius immediately set his glass down, voice cutting cold:

“Don’t.”

Sirius raised a brow. “Don’t… what?”

“Don’t flirt with me.” Emilius stared straight into his eyes.

“If you want to be friends, then be friends. But if you’re using this as an excuse to go further, then stop. I don’t play that game.”

Sirius blinked, then laughed:

“Why so harsh? I haven’t even started with the sweet talk yet.”

Emilius lifted an eyelid, sounding as bored as if he were announcing the weather:

“If you insist on flirting, then know this: I’m not interested. I’m here to eat, not to listen to you run your mouth.”

Bepa wriggled inside his pocket and let out a pointed “hiss,” right on cue.

“See?” Emilius glanced down. “Bepa agrees with me.”

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically.

“Merlin, even your pet hates me. Truly brutal.”

“Correct. So give up, Black,” Emilius said flatly. “Friends still have a chance. All that wooing nonsense? Forget it.”

“You make it sound like I’m just an object to you , something you refuse to let anyone have, so you’re chasing after it like a fool”

Sirius opened his mouth as if to argue, then swallowed it down and slumped back in his chair.

“…How can you—” he muttered, too low for Emilius to catch.

“Huh?”

“I said, you’re unbelievably cruel, Emilius. How can you tell someone to shut off their feelings? Liking you isn’t something I can control.”

Sirius fell silent for a moment, then leaned forward again, his gaze steady. This time there was no teasing, no playful glint, only something raw and painfully earnest.

“Listen. I’m not trying to make you some kind of pastime, and I’m not… flirting just for fun. I really do like you. You don’t know this, but last summer, I saw you buying books in the Muggle street, and later when you walked alone in the Forbidden Forest… I started realizing you weren’t anything like what I thought you were. And the more I was around you, the harder it became to pretend I didn’t feel anything.”

“When you went still in that tomb, when I thought something happened to you, I was terrified, Emilius. For the first time in my life, I was scared like that. Scared you’d get hurt right in front of me and I could do nothing about it… scared I’d lose you.”

But faced with Sirius’s bare honesty, Emilius’s expression didn’t shift at all, smooth, refined, and cold as carved marble.

“But I don’t like you. And I won’t. If you want to stay here, then accept that boundary.”

Sirius paused, mouth opening and closing before he forced a crooked smile:

“You’re really brutal, you know that? Never give people even half a shred of hope.”

“Correct.” Emilius set his spoon down with a finality that felt like a seal snapping shut. “Because letting you entertain fantasies would be the real cruelty. One day you’d come back angry that I ever let you misunderstand.”

Candlelight flickered over their faces. Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, the earlier grin fading, leaving behind confusion and a sharp little sting.

“…Then I guess all I can do is settle for being your friend,” he sighed.

“Fine. Friends, then. But whatever you say, my feelings aren’t going anywhere. Emilius, one day you’ll open your heart to me. Sirius Black doesn’t know how to quit.”

Emilius didn’t answer. He just lowered his gaze and slipped the last piece of apple to Bepa, as if the conversation had reached its natural end.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the clink of cutlery. Sirius fiddled with his pumpkin juice, spinning the glass slowly, then suddenly blurted out:

“It’s strange. Regulus… he’s blindly loyal to the whole pure-blood doctrine of the Blacks, idolizes Voldemort even. Yet he admires you, Emilius. Openly. Doesn’t even try to hide it.”

Emilius lifted his gaze. The image of the thin, well-mannered boy, so much like Sirius but softer, floated in his mind.

“…Is that so. He’s a good kid. You should pay more attention to him. Regulus isn’t like you, but it’s obvious he wants to be seen.”

Silence. Then Sirius let out a rough laugh, too dry to be amused.

“Pay attention? You think I don’t want to? But Reg, he’s the one avoiding me. At school he treats me like something contagious. My parents spent years telling him, ‘Sirius is a disgrace. Don’t go near him.’ So he listens. Reg’s always been the perfect Black heir.”

Emilius said quietly:

“Maybe he listens. But admiring me without hiding it means he can think for himself. Maybe you’ve never really tried talking to him.”

Sirius gave a short, bitter bark of laughter.

“Talk? He walks away the moment he sees me. I can’t get a single word out. When I show up, he disappears. What am I supposed to do?”

Emilius held his gaze.

“He’s your brother. He’s younger. Even if he doesn’t show it, he still looks toward you.”

Sirius froze.

“Him avoiding you doesn’t mean he hates you. He’s just carrying the expectations you threw away.”

A beat of silence. Something flickered across Sirius’s face, shock, then something raw. His fingers tightened around the chair as if the words hit deeper than he wanted to admit.

He looked away. Forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Bepa shifted in Emilius’s pocket, letting out a tiny hiss, breaking the tension. Emilius stroked the hedgehog absently.

Hopeless child, he thought.

Sirius Black never faced things properly. Emilius couldn’t tell if he was running from guilt or simply refusing to grow up.

For a moment Sirius looked embarrassed, like someone whose mask had slipped without warning. The playful grin he kept wearing all night suddenly looked flimsy.
He cleared his throat and changed the topic abruptly, Quidditch, James’s pranks, random gossip about Slughorn. Emilius barely answered. The pumpkin juice was finished, and the kitchen was nearly dark, the house-elves long vanished.

When they finally parted ways at the hallway, Sirius managed another smile, too bright, too eager.

“Well… I hope tonight wasn’t awful. Happy birthday again, Emilius.”

Emilius nodded.

“Mm. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

“Sleep well. Dream of me~”

“I’d rather have nightmares.”

—————

When Emilius stepped into the Slytherin common room, it was quiet. Almost everyone had gone to bed. Only two boys were left at the big table by the fireplace.

Regulus Black.

And a blond boy with round glasses and a good-looking face. Emilius had seen him around Regulus a few times, likely his close friend. Rosier, if he remembered correctly. Not that Emilius cared particularly about pure-blood families.

“Good evening, Emilius,” Regulus greeted politely.

“You’re back late from detention?”

Emilius answered lazily,

“Got hungry, so I sneaked into the kitchens. Good students like you , don’t tell the prefects.”

He glanced at the blond boy. Evan Rosier didn’t reply. Just stared at Emilius with an unreadable look.

That stare made something itch under Emilius’s skin.

Regulus smiled.

“Don’t worry. Evan and I won’t say anything. You should sleep soon.”

“Mm.” Emilius nodded. “You two should turn in soon too. Studying too much makes your heads swell.”

With that, he walked toward the dormitory. Regulus went back to his notes.

“You’ll go cross-eyed if you keep staring like that, Evan.”

But Evan Rosier never took his eyes off the door Emilius had disappeared through.

“You seem close with him,” Evan murmured.

“Emilius is exceptionally talented,” Regulus replied. “I admire him a lot.”

“Obviously. He’s got style.”

Regulus frowned slightly.

“…Don’t tell me you’re starting to take an interest in him, Evan?”

Evan didn’t respond.

He simply leaned back, eyes drifting somewhere far away, somewhere Regulus couldn’t follow.

Chapter Text

Emilius found himself standing in a child’s room, yet his feet were glued to the floor, refusing to move.
In front of him, a red-haired woman lunged forward, spreading her arms to shield a baby screaming in its crib. Her voice trembled with desperation:

“No…! Please… spare him… HARRY!”

A flash of green light tore through the air.

He saw nothing more, only a scream abruptly cut off, and the child’s wail echoing violently inside his skull like a hammer strike.

The world spun. Darkness swallowed everything.

A damp, freezing prison emerged around him.

Groans, twisted, warped, echoed along the stone walls. A gaunt man with matted hair and ghost-pale skin sat in a cell, his eyes wild to the point of madness. He laughed.
He laughed and laughed, until blood seeped from the corners of his mouth, yet he still didn’t stop.

Emilius tried to step back, but his legs remained rooted. That deranged gaze locked onto him, trapping him as if the entire world had narrowed to nothing but that man and his endless, broken laughter.

Another flash—

Hogwarts, transformed into a battlefield. Dozens of bodies strewn across the ground. A figure in a black cloak stood amidst the carnage, its chilling laughter dripping with satisfaction. The floor was soaked with blood, bodies lying like discarded dolls on the cold stone.
Emilius wanted to scream, but his throat was frozen. Only ragged breaths escaped.

Why…? Who were these people?

His heart felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing it tight. Terror spread slowly, thick and suffocating, even his breathing felt like chains around his neck.

He didn’t know who any of them were. Didn’t know why he was being dragged into this nightmare.

He only knew one thing, what he saw was horrifying enough to drive someone mad.

And he was powerless.

Helpless.

Forced to watch.

Emilius jolted awake.

He shot upright, hands clutching the bedsheets, breath coming in sharp gasps as if he had been running for miles. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs, cold sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.

The dim light filtering through the window cast a pale glow across his face, drained, trembling, and soaked.

Bepa, curled up beside his pillow, stirred. The small creature lifted its head, blinking sleepily at him, letting out a soft hiss, almost like it was asking what was wrong.
Emilius scooped it up with shaking hands, letting the little creature settle in his lap. He pressed his cheek against its soft fur, inhaling its familiar scent, though his fingers still trembled uncontrollably.

What he saw in the nightmare… was identical to what he experienced when he touched that chest.

Could this be the power Basil Wyndham passed down?
A prophetic ability?

Something close to it?

Even though Pegasus, and even Sirius, had practically given up on deciphering the journal, Emilius had quietly continued studying it. But nothing made sense. The scrawls looked more like frenzied doodles than any known language. Books about Basil Wyndham provided barely any information: they mentioned him as a great Seer with remarkably accurate prophecies, but everything else about his life was obscure.

Emilius suspected the Restricted Section might hold more information. But breaking in wasn’t easy, and the Quidditch season had kept him busy.

He could’ve asked Pegasus. With James Potter’s Invisibility Cloak and that enchanted map, sneaking in would’ve been simple.

But Pegasus would definitely ask why Emilius cared so much about a long-dead wizard’s notebook. To everyone else, Basil Wyndham was irrelevant, a dusty relic.
And Emilius didn’t want to burden his friends before understanding what was happening to himself.

Especially not Pegasus.

Pegasus was getting weaker by the day.

That lingering illness after the holidays never improved. One look at his pale face was enough, time was slipping away from him.

Pegasus always said that after graduation, the three of them would travel the world together.

“I only have one request, Emil, Hayden. Treat me like a normal person. Let me believe we’ll graduate together, travel together, and live a happy life.”

Both Emilius and Hayden knew the truth.

But for Pegasus’s sake, they pretended nothing was wrong. They wanted his remaining days to be filled with as much laughter as possible.

Emilius loved Hayden deeply, like a younger brother who always needed care. Someone precious, someone he would never trade away.

But Pegasus Grey and Dracy Gallard, his first friends, the ones who stayed beside him through the darkest years, were both slipping away.

Dracy through a cruel betrayal.

Pegasus through the slow erosion of time itself.

“Your life is such a tangled mess, Emilius Ravophine.”

——————

The Gryffindor dormitory lay in complete silence, broken only by James’s thunderous snoring and the steady breathing of students deep in sleep. Even Remus wasn’t up late studying tonight.

It was well past midnight, after all.

But one person wasn’t so lucky.

Pegasus braced himself against the sink, breath stuttering, chest tightening painfully with every cough. Blood splattered across the porcelain basin, bright red, still dripping down his chin, hot, metallic, nauseating.
His condition was getting worse. He’d have to write home for a stronger dose of medicine, or soon he wouldn’t be able to hide it—

Creak.

The door opened. Pegasus froze.

He hadn’t even wiped his mouth before Peter Pettigrew stepped in, eyes squinting from sleep. But in a heartbeat, the small eyes widened in horror at the sight before him.

“Pegasus… y-you’re—”

“Shh.” Pegasus raised a hand sharply.

“It’s fine. Just my old illness acting up. I’ll go see Madam Pomfrey in the morning. Don’t yell, if the others wake up they’ll turn the dorm upside down.”

Peter stood trembling like a leaf. He stammered:

“B-but… you’re coughing blood, Pegasus! That’s not—”

Pegasus swallowed the next cough, face pale, lips drained of color, yet he still forced a smile.

“Listen, Peter. Everything is under control. I forgot to take my medicine so it got worse, that’s all. I’ll see Pomfrey first thing in the morning. Nothing to worry about.”

Peter hesitated, fists clenching, then finally nodded.
But the second he turned his back, Pegasus’s expression darkened. He raised his wand and pointed it straight at Peter.

“Obliviate.”

A flash of light.

Peter froze, his gaze going slack, unfocused, empty. He rubbed his eyes, muttering vaguely, then staggered back toward the dorm like he’d only gotten up to use the bathroom.

Pegasus lowered his arm. His wand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

Lately, he’d had to use that spell more than usual.

Another cough tore through him, harsher, deeper, bringing up even more blood. He collapsed forward, gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles went white.

“…No one can know. ”

He forced down an entire vial of bitter medicine, grimacing at the taste burning down his throat. With a flick of his wand, he cleaned the bloodstained sink until it looked untouched, only then allowing himself to return to bed.

But he hadn’t even warmed the sheets when the door opened again, and the curtains around his bed were yanked aside. A tall figure slipped in, collapsing onto the mattress beside him and pressing a cold nose against Pegasus’s back.

“You don’t have your own bed, Padfoot?”

Pegasus didn’t need to look. Of course it was that big black mutt, just back from detention. He was just about to drift off when—

“Pony… why didn’t you tell me yesterday was Emilius’s birthday?”

Oh, Bloody hell.

Pegasus went rigid, eyelid twitching. The bitter taste of medicine still clung to his throat, and now he had to endure the mutt’s midnight whining on top of everything, double the nightmare.

“Bark all you want tomorrow. I’m tired. Spare me the 20 questions ”

Sirius went quiet. Pegasus actually thought he’d finally settled down, when—

“I want a serious relationship.”

“You too, Padfoot? I thought I already told Prongs, you gotta take me out to dinner first.”

“Shut up, Pony,” Sirius pinched his back, but still wouldn’t stop clinging like a starving leech. “I mean with Emilius. He and I went down to the kitchens earlier. I threw him a birthday dinner, we ate together—”

“And you still crawled back here in one piece , meaning things went pretty well.”

“Yeah, that’s a good sign! Emilius actually agreed to have a late-night meal with me, well, not the first time, we ate together before, but back then I was a dog. Anyway, he even said I sing well~ Well… ‘not bad,’ but that’s enough to make me feel all tingly—”

Pegasus pulled the blanket over his head.

“Please, Padfoot, let me rest in peace. Your love life is a problem for tomorrow.”

“—But even when I told him how I really feel, Emilius still wouldn’t give me a chance. He said I only see him as some conquest, Pony, I'm being serious—”

“You dated three girls and hooked up with an Hufflepuff bloke last year. Not even dog would believe a word you say.”

“Emilius isn’t like them! We actually get along, we share interests, we’re both treated like outsiders—”

“Hey. Before the holidays, you still acted like he was a thorn in your side. You literally turned into a dog to stalk him. You seriously think Emil would drop his bad impression of you that fast?”

Sirius choked, speechless.

From the next bed over, Remus grumbled:

“Exactly. Shut up, Padfoot. Your romantic drama’s about to cost all of us a full night of sleep.”

“Shut up. I’m in love.”

“Well isn’t that grand. Let me sleep or I’ll wolf out and bite your head off.”

“Yeah yeah, Your Highness.”

——————-

A few days later.

Emilius stood in the middle of the practice room, arms crossed, looking like he’d exhausted his last ounce of patience.

Meanwhile Hayden was sprawled face-up on a padded mat, sweating buckets, hair sticking up in every direction after taking a full-force Stupefy straight to the chest.

“…I told you already. Your wand needs to move decisively. Not like you’re waving hello to the neighborhood granny.”

Emilius tapped the tip of his wand against his palm, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. They’d repeated this defensive spell drill who knew how many times, yet Hayden’s skill remained deep in the negatives.

As for Pegasus Grey, nowhere to be found. Every time someone mentioned helping Hayden practice charms, that guy would vanish instantly. No wonder: he was probably traumatized from all the times Hayden’s Accio summoned books, cups, and entire shelves straight into his skull, and all the accidental explosions on top of it.

Emilius wasn’t exactly thrilled to be doing this either, but if he left Hayden alone now, the guy was as good as dead.

Hayden sat up, hair sticking into his eyes, grumbling:
“Yeah yeah, decisive. But you gotta at least give me some time. Who’s supposed to react that fast…”

Emilius raised a brow.

“Right. I’m sure Voldemort will kindly give you thirty seconds to warm up before attacking.”

“…Fine, fine, I get it,” Hayden stuck out his tongue and staggered back onto his feet. “But I swear, if I get through O.W.Ls alive, I’ll build a shrine in your honor for the rest of my life.”

“No need,” Emilius replied dryly, lifting his wand.

“Again. Protego.”

Hayden took a deep breath, trying to summon every last drop of concentration. He raised his wand and shouted:

“Protego!”

A thin, flickering sheet of shield light appeared, then died instantly like a burnt-out bulb.

“Hayden, that’s not Protego. That’s a firework.”

Emilius sighed, but still lifted his wand to demonstrate again. At this rate, if he didn’t hover over Hayden constantly, the boy would fail the exam in record time.

He flicked his wrist, conjuring a shining, mirror-like Protego that wrapped around him in a perfect dome. The polished surface reflected Hayden’s wand.

“One more time. Focus.”

Hayden lifted his wand, eyes squeezed shut like he was praying.

“Protego!”

A tiny shield the size of a tea tray popped out.

“Perfect,” Emilius said flatly. “You could probably protect a hedgehog with that.”

But seeing Hayden’s face crumple like he was about to cry, the corner of Emilius’ mouth twitched.

He pulled Bepa out of his coat pocket and handed the little hedgehog to Hayden.

“Alright, that counts as progress. It’s almost lunchtime, let’s stop here.”

Hayden took Bepa, cheeks flushing. The little hedgehog curled up in his hands, sniffed him, then squeaked once.

“See? Even he acknowledges my hard work.” Hayden puffed his chest up like he’d just been awarded the Order of Merlin First Class. But when he turned to Emilius, he noticed the other boy wasn’t reacting.

“Emil?”

“Hey, you hearing me?”

“Emilius.”

“I swear I’ll grab a hair straightener and flatten your hair right now.”

Only then did Emilius lift his head.

“?”

“I called you like five times. Why are you zoning out?”

“…Just thinking about some stuff. And you don’t you dare getting anywhere near me with a straightener.”

He didn’t say what was really on his mind, the bizarre dream, all the random chaos in his life, Dracy…

“Your lip looks really swollen. Should you go to the hospital wing?”

Damn it. And of course Hayden pointing it out made the heat flare painfully along his lower lip again. Earlier that morning, he’d been walking while eating bread when he suddenly seeing something so shocked, jerked and bit himself hard enough to bleed.

“Forget it. Embarrassing enough as is. I’ll check my books later, see if there’s a charm to reduce swelling.”

Hayden watched Emilius gingerly touch his lip and wince like he’d swallowed a pepper whole. Clearly, whatever he’d been thinking about earlier had been serious enough for him to forget the pain entirely.

“What on earth startled the great Emilius Ravophine so badly he bit his own mouth?”

“Charlod Whitestone.”

Hayden nearly choked. Charlod Whiteston, the golden Hufflepuff senior who’d graduated last year. Rumor said he’d gotten a prestigious assistant position with some big-shot Ministry figure straight out of school. Perfect grades, Prefect, Head Boy, basically born to succeed.
Today, by some cosmic misfortune, Emilius had run into him in the corridor, just as Charlod returned to Hogwarts to deliver some Ministry papers to Dumbledore.

Neither of them had anything to do with him; Hayden, even as a fellow Hufflepuff, had never once spoken to the guy. But every time Emilius saw his neat, polished appearance, or heard his name, he felt this unpleasant shiver.

Because Emilius had once caught Sirius Black messing around with him. In the literal sense.

Emilius had been napping peacefully behind a bush in his favorite quiet hallway corner. The weather was perfect, so perfect he’d drifted off without noticing. Until he was awakened by… noises: noises that were absolutely not appropriate for minors or for a school campus at all.

Does this school not have rooms for you people??

Blood rushing to his head, Emilius cast an Invisibility Charm on himself and crouched to sneak out of the bushes. He didn’t want to look like some pervert spying on people, even though they were the ones who interrupted his nap, for Merlin’s sake.

But the moment he slipped out of the bushes, he froze.
Sirius Black, clothes rumpled, was pinning a Hufflepuff boy against the wall.

(Emilius swore he used all his strength not to look down.)

Sirius’ smug, predatory grin was pressed right near the other guy’s face, making it impossible to recognize him at first. But then Sirius opened his mouth, voice dripping arrogance:

“I’m the best opportunity you’ll ever get in your life, Whitestone. You like this, don’t you?”

“The esteemed Head Boy, admired by everyone, letting me do whatever I want to him. Aren’t you ashamed?”

He went on and on with such obscene comments that Emilius felt his scalp go numb. The next thing he remembered, he was sprinting back to the dorms and throwing up in the bathroom.

Naturally, he told his two best friends everything he heard and saw. Hayden could never look at the noble Head Boy the same way again. Pegasus had known Sirius was involved with someone in Hufflepuff, but he didn’t expect it to be the Head Boy, three years above them, someone respected, matures .

Sirius Black, utter menace.

But that physical relationship ended once Charlod left school. As Pegasus had said, Sirius was never serious about anyone. Everything was a game, a thrill, nothing more.

And Emilius had heard Sirius with his own ears,his cocky declaration that he was the greatest thing that could ever happen to someone.

So every time Sirius tried to profess his “genuine feelings,” it only made Emilius feel sick with contempt.

Hayden scratched Bepa behind the ears. The hedgehog squinted contentedly under his touch.

“Well… that explains your traumatic reaction. But Emil, lately you’ve been kinda… distracted.”

Emilius pretended not to understand.

“…How so?”

“You zone out. Like just now. Don’t deny it, Pony said the same.”

Faced with Hayden’s probing stare, Emilius sighed.

“Yeah… There are some things. I’m not hiding it on purpose. I just need time to sort it out first… You remember those flashes I saw when I touched Basil Wyndham’s chest, right?”

Concern flickered across Hayden’s face.

“Yeah. Why?”

“A few days ago, I dreamt about it again. Each time, the dream gets longer. Clearer. But I don’t know who anyone in it is. There was this woman screaming… calling someone named Harry. If these really are some kind of visions, glimpses of the future,then what am I supposed to do with something I can’t make sense of?”

“Emil… that doesn’t sound like a normal dream. If it’s prophecy-related, this is serious…”

Emilius fell silent for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table as if trying to force the blurry images into focus.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. It feels like… I’m watching a tragedy unfold right in front of me, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“Our info on Basil Wyndham is way too vague. I’m thinking of sneaking into the Restricted Section tonight. See if there’s anything besides his recorded prophecies.”

“Then I’m coming with you. And Pony—”

“No.” Emilius cut him off. “I’m going alone. Pony’s not feeling well. And you, just focus on passing O.W.Ls first. If someone gets caught, better it’s only me.”

Hayden frowned, clearly unhappy, but Emilius’ unyielding expression shut him up.

“Fine. But you’re explaining this to Pony yourself. If he finds out he got ditched for your ‘noble reasons,’ he’ll lose his mind.”

Ignoring Hayden’s muttering, the two of them left the Room of Requirement to head for lunch. Bepa stayed nestled in Hayden’s pocket, still attached to his former master’s scent and refusing to leave.

As they strolled down the corridor toward the Great Hall, a soft voice called from behind:

“Emilius.”

Regulus Black, in his immaculate uniform, approached them with Evan Rosier at his side.

“What is it, Bl—Regulus?” Emilius corrected himself mid-word. He was still trying to get used to calling people first name normally.

“After lunch… could you spare a bit of time for me? I wanted to invite you to the dueling club. I’ve been practicing, but I know I still have a lot of flaws. If you could look over my form and give advice, I’d be very grateful.”

Hayden snorted.

“You hear that? School idol. Can’t even go to lunch without fans stopping.”

Regulus ignored him completely, eyes fixed earnestly on Emilius. And not just one pair, Rosier had been staring nonstop too, which made Emilius itch. He had planned to tutor Hayden after lunch—

“No worries, I’ll go drag Pony out,” Hayden cut in. “He can’t hide forever. It’s his turn anyway.”

Regulus immediately asked:

“So you’re free after lunch, then?”

Emilius exhaled.

“Fine. But for Merlin’s sake, don’t talk to me like that. I’m exhausted just listening.”

Regulus froze.

“…What do you mean?”

“That super formal, ceremonial monologue every time you want something. You’re making me age ten years.”

Evan Rosier burst out laughing.

“You heard him, Reg. He doesn’t like your noble speeches.”

Regulus blinked, genuinely confused.

“But… that’s how I was taught to speak to upperclassmen.”

Hayden clapped Emilius on the back.

“Upperclassman, he says. Hear that?”

Emilius groaned. The Black brothers were absolutely exhausting: Sirius was chaotic, and Regulus was overly proper to a painful degree. Suddenly he felt a little guilty for being so blunt. Regulus was a young aristocrat, and compared to the arrogant Slytherins, the kid was practically harmless.

“Yeah, I know. But just speak normally. Don’t make it sound like a royal audience. We’re not strangers, you talking like that makes me feel weirdly distant.”

Regulus pressed his lips together.

“Then… after lunch, you’ll come?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Emilius. Also… what happened to your lip?”

“I fell. Don’t ask.”

Chapter Text

Regulus Black had long realized that his two closest friends were anything but ordinary.

Barty Crouch Jr. was too sensitive. Brilliant and sharp-minded, yes, but beneath that intelligence was a lattice of fractures. Just a single cold remark from his father, the ever-stern Mr. Crouch, was enough to send Barty into days of silent withdrawal, burying himself in books and grades as though failing to prove his worth meant he had no right to exist.

Evan Rosier… was the complete opposite. Emotionless to the point of being unsettling. He could recount a cruel story with the same tone he used to mention having tea, flat, indifferent, completely untouched. Regulus had grown so used to that icy detachment that it had become, in a strange way, a personal trait of Evan’s, like someone having blue eyes or curly hair.

Evan had once said, quite plainly, “Nothing interests me.” As if it were an obvious truth, not a tragedy.

And yet, that night… Regulus witnessed something unexpected.

When Emilius Ravophine walked in, Regulus greeted him . But then, he caught Evan’s gaze. It wasn’t vacant, nor was it the usual cold disinterest. It was… focused. A flicker of genuine curiosity, bright and unmistakable, glinting in those pale blue eyes that had never held a spark of anything.

For the first time, Evan Rosier looked like a normal human being drawn to something.
And that something, no, that someone,was Emilius Ravophine.

Regulus felt a mix of astonishment and confusion, accompanied by an odd sensation, as if he’d just noticed a hairline crack on a stone statue he’d always believed perfectly unbreakable. Though Evan had never paid Emilius much attention before, even shrugging when seeing he admire upper-year students, something had clearly shifted that night.

The peak of it came when Evan asked him to invite Emilius to the Duelling Club to observe their practice. Regulus had long thought of asking Emilius for advice anyway, knowing the older boy was skilled, but he didn’t expect Evan to bring it up first. Still, Evan’s expression revealed nothing of what he truly thought.

Perhaps time would answer it better.

BOOM! CRACK! THUD!

The Duelling Club was filled with explosive noises. With no supervising teacher present, the students were free to unleash every trick they knew, like a sanctioned battlefield.

Emilius stood quietly in a corner, eyes fixed on the two Slytherin boys practicing spells. He rarely came to this place, but his duelling skills were well-known from the mandatory paired matches in class. His father had trained him properly, too, so he always noticed flaws and weaknesses with ease.

Regulus and Evan were practicing not far away. Regulus had stable reflexes, a good sense of timing, and a quick mind, but his wand movements were overly elaborate, theatrical even, which exposed unnecessary gaps. Worse, he was far too defensive, constantly raising shields and missing golden opportunities.

Evan Rosier was… stiff. He moved like a machine with no anticipation, focusing solely on attack. His spells were repetitive and predictable; against an experienced opponent, a single feigned opening could trap him instantly.

But the bigger problem was

“Oh Merlin, look at Ravophine! He’s so handsome!”

“He’s definitely going to be the next Slytherin Prefect!”
“No, no, he gives off lone-wolf vibes. That cold stare, Merlin help me…”

A group of younger students sat nearby, chattering as if they were watching a drama. Every minute or so, a tiny squeal erupted from them.

Emilius’s eyebrow twitched. His temples throbbed.

This was Duelling Club, not a fan meeting. For the love of Merlin, shut up.

When the other two stopped, Emilius approached.

“Regulus…” he began, “I’ll admit you have good reflexes and a sharp mind. You read situations well. But your hand—” He spun his wrist mockingly. “Way too flashy. Anyone could tell what you’re about to do. And if you keep turtling behind shields like that, a winning chance turns into a death sentence. Got it?”

Regulus listened as though absorbing every word.

Emilius then turned to Evan Rosier.

“And you…”

He paused, choosing his words, then opted for honesty.
“You’re as stiff as a log. Honestly, it looks like someone’s operating you. You rush in with the same predictable attacks over and over. Against a seasoned duelist, one fake stumble and you’ll walk right into their trap. By then, good luck reacting in time.”
Evan raised an eyebrow, gave a subtle nod, as if acknowledging “fair point”, but said nothing.

Regulus bowed his head politely.

“I appreciate your feedback.”

Behind them, the fanclub whispered again:

“Ravophine is so strict… so cool though…”

Emilius resisted the urge to magically seal all their mouths.

“Emilius… if possible… I’d like a direct duel with you. I think only then I can-”

But before Regulus could finish, four students strode over, two Ravenclaws, two Gryffindors. Emilius didn’t know them.

“Well, well, Emilius Ravophine actually visits the Duelling Club,” one Gryffindor smirked, eyes gleaming with provocation. “We’ve heard you’re good. Why don’t you show everyone?”

The Ravenclaw chimed in:

“There are four of us. You can bring teammates. But no Slytherins, who knows if your snakes plan to cheat?”
The group burst into mocking laughter.

Regulus and Evan scowled, ready to step forward,
but Emilius only curled his lip, more in mocking than amusement.

“Four of you? That’s it?”

Emilius’s voice was calm, almost bored.

“I don’t need backup. I can handle all of you by myself.”

The room immediately erupted, some students gasped, others cheered under their breath.

Regulus’s eyes widened in excitement. He was finally going to witness his senior duel seriously. Evan remained silent, but his gaze sharpened.

The Ravenclaw–Gryffindor group froze for half a second, then burst into mocking laughter.

“Cocky, aren’t you? Let’s see if your skills match that attitude.”

Emilius rolled his wrist, stretched slightly, then reached up to pull the wand tucked into his messy bun.

“Come. I’ve been itching to move a little anyway.”

Just as all four opponents raised their wands

A loud, barking laugh echoed through the room.

“Ha! Not so fast!”

Every head turned toward the doorway. Sirius Black strolled in as if the entire club existed just to spotlight him, wearing the kind of arrogant grin that begged for attention.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said casually, whistling as he walked straight toward Emilius.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be your teammate.”

The room exploded into screams. Some girls shrieked, a few boys choked on their own breath.

“Merlin! Black and Ravophine on the same side?!”

“They look unreal standing together…”

Sirius, all swagger and charm, stood beside Emilius, who looked like a cold, sculpted statue, an image so striking the entire room couldn’t look away.

Emilius stared at Sirius for a moment, right, they weren’t enemies anymore.

“I don’t need your help.”

“I know you don’t,” Sirius said, shrugging with a bright grin. “But teaming up with me looks a lot cooler, doesn’t it?”

“…Fine.”

The tip of Emilius’s wand lit up.

“But I’m not adjusting my fighting style for you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sirius leaned in suddenly. “Wait, what happened to your lip?”

He was close, too close, and the crowd screamed again. Emilius clenched his jaw.

“I. Fell. Now can we get back to the duel?”

Sirius gave him a long look, clearly unconvinced, but let it drop; the expression on Emilius’s face promised murder if he pushed further.

Besides, Sirius knew from experience that wasn’t a bruise from kissing.

A thick tension settled over the room as the two boys raised their wands in unison.

Everyone held their breath.

The countdown began:

“Three… two… one!”

“Expelliarmus!”

All four opponents fired at once, red bursts of light blazing across the room.

In the same heartbeat, Emilius flicked his wrist,
a bright Protego Maxima flared out like a solid wall.
Sparks burst as the spells collided, shaking the wooden floor.

Sirius didn’t waste the opening. He moved instantly, sending three rapid-fire Stupefy spells back at them like shots from a wand-powered cannon.

The two Gryffindors had to throw themselves to the side, while one Ravenclaw took the spell full-on and crashed to the floor.

“Brilliant,” Sirius laughed, shooting Emilius a wide grin. “Your shield’s perfect! I can blast away without worry.”

“Stop babbling,” Emilius snapped, flicking his wand.

A Rictusempra shot out and struck the tall Ravenclaw cleanly. The boy yelped, collapsing into a helpless fit of hysterical laughter, his wand clattering out of his hand.
Within seconds, four opponents became two.

The spectators on both sides of the hall were so thrilled they leapt to their feet, shouting encouragement.

But the remaining two refused to give up. One Gryffindor gritted his teeth and roared:

“Impedimenta!”

The bolt shot straight toward Sirius.

Sirius twisted aside at the last instant, catching the spell with a tight Protego barrier just wide enough to hold. He rolled aside in one smooth motion and winked at his opponent.

“Stylish enough for you, Emilius?”

Emilius didn’t bother answering. He slashed his wand sharply:

“Expulso!”

The spell blasted the Gryffindor backward several meters, thankfully, the club’s enchanted floor padding absorbed the impact, or he would’ve broken something.
The last boy standing was shaking like a leaf, but still fired back, launching a frantic volley of Petrificus Totalus and Expelliarmus. Sirius laughed like a madman, spinning his wand and knocking the beams upward, the bursts of light exploding overhead like fireworks.

“Yours, Emilius!”

Emilius had already slipped into the blind spot.

A single cold flick of the wrist:

“Stupefy.”

The red flash hit squarely, dropping the final opponent face-first onto the floor, completely unconscious.
In under five minutes, all four Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were sprawled across the dueling mats.
The room erupted like a detonated cauldron.

“Merlin’s beard! That’s the best duel I’ve ever seen!”

“No, THE BEST IN HOGWARTS HISTORY!”

Far behind the roaring crowd, Regulus and Evan Rosier watched quietly. Regulus eventually turned and left.

But Evan didn’t move, his blank face unchanged, his eyes fixed on the tall, golden-haired boy at the center of the chaos.

Sirius straightened, sweat still glistening on his forehead, a triumphant grin spread across his face. He nudged his partner sharply, eyes gleaming.

“See? Told you, we make a damn good team.”

“…You’re too loud,” Emilius replied flatly, slipping his wand back into his messy bun.

Students swarmed the dueling floor like a hive bursting open, surrounding the pair completely.

“Emilius, that was incredible!”

“Sirius Black! That move was insane, brilliant job!!”

Shouts, whistles, cheers, so loud the stone walls seemed to tremble.

A vein pulsed visibly on Emilius’s temple. The only thing stopping him from walking straight out was the fact that he physically couldn’t push past the crowd.

Sirius, meanwhile, looked like a Kneazle tossed into a field of catnip. He thrived in the chaos, grinning ear to ear like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup. His arm even slid around Emilius’s shoulders as he pulled him close, shouting:

“See that? The two of us are unstoppable!”

Emilius clenched his teeth, eyes rolling toward the ceiling as he muttered every calming charm he knew under his breath.

Just as he was about to snap and yell at everyone to clear out, a calm, steady voice cut through the noise:

“An excellent duel, truly.”

Both Sirius and Emilius froze.

The room fell silent as the crowd instinctively parted ways.

A young man stepped forward, his presence carrying a composed authority. He wore a well-fitted Ministry robe, professional tailoring, polished fabric, a badge gleaming on his shoulder. His chestnut hair was neatly combed back; straight nose, deep eyes; a face striking enough to look sculpted.

Charlod Whitestone.

“Whitestone’s back at Hogwarts!” someone whispered.

“The former Head Boy of Hufflepuff!”

Emilius froze. His stomach twisted violently. His eyes flickered for a split second before he abruptly looked away, as though staying one second longer might make him throw up on the spot.

Sirius, meanwhile, heard nothing but a ringing in his ears. He stood rooted to the floor, the smug grin wiped clean off his face. He couldn’t believe Charlod Whitestone was here.

“It truly was an impressive match. Sirius, you haven’t changed at all, you still know how to make people gasp in admiration.”

Sirius didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His body locked up, and the faint smile on Charlod’s lips, paired with that piercing gaze, felt like a deliberate reminder of everything that had once been between them.

Then Charlod’s eyes shifted to Emilius.

“And you… you truly live up to being the son of the legendary Auror Ravophine. A shame I never knew about you during my Hogwarts years. Had I known, I would’ve witnessed this talent much earlier.”

Charlod Whitestone’s face had remained perfectly unchanged from the moment he walked in.

Because Emilius was wearing his glasses, anyone who had never seen his real face would be affected by the charm that blurred people’s perception.

Thank Merlin for that.

Emilius replied coolly:

“You flatter me.”

The swelling on his lip throbbed again. The disgusting memory from last year surfaced sharply, and seeing Charlod’s eyes still glued to Sirius only made Emilius’s stomach churn harder. Suddenly, he could barely breathe in the suffocating crowd.

He needed to get out.

Right now.

Without waiting another second, Emilius pushed through the circle of students, shoving past them as he made for the exit with quick strides.

“What’s wrong with him…?” some students whispered, but before anyone could process it, Sirius snapped out of his shock and called out in panic:

“Emilius! Wait!”

Ignoring the fact that Charlod Whitestone was still standing there, Sirius squeezed through the crowd and ran after him. Emilius hated crowd, Sirius should’ve realized sooner. Idiot.

It took all his effort to finally catch up, Emilius walked fast, damn those long legs. Sirius grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop. With everyone else still back in the Dueling Club, the hallway was now just the two of them.

“What’s wrong? Why are you in such a hurry? Are you feeling sick?”

Sirius stepped closer, but Emilius immediately jerked his arm free. Sirius didn’t back off.

“Did I make you uncomfortable? If I did, then I’m really sorry. When people cheer for me, I tend to get… a bit carried away. Honestly, I love the attention, you already know that.”

Sirius stopped short when he saw Emilius’s face.

Not the usual cold expression, but pale. Lips pressed tight.

“... Hey, you really don’t look well. Your handsome face is totally ruined.”

He tried to joke, though worry seeped into every word.

His fingers hovered uncertainly, reaching forward to brush away the damp strands of hair sticking to Emilius’s forehead.

“Or is it your bruised lip? Does it still hurt? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

Emilius dodged the hand reaching toward him.

“I’m just a bit dizzy. Too many people in there, they used up all the air.”

He pretended to rub his temple. Sirius bit his lip. He recognized that evasive tone all too well, but didn’t dare push further.

“Then let’s get out of here. We can go outside, get some fresh air?”
Those grey eyes looked at Emilius, no teasing this time, no bravado, only genuine concern.

“Sirius, Mr. Ravophine.”

They both turned back. Charlod Whitestone had walked over. His gaze paused on Emilius, brows drawing slightly together as if noticing something off.

“Are you unwell?” Charlod asked gently. “That duel must have drained you. If you need, I can-”

“I’m fine,” Emilius cut in quickly, borderline rude. He didn’t want to be around either of them another second.

“I just need some rest. My apologies for leaving early, Mr. Whitestone.”

Before Sirius could say anything, Emilius was already gone, his tall figure disappearing at the far end of the corridor.

Charlod watched him go but said nothing more about him. Instead, he turned back, eyes lighting with an emotion he didn’t bother to hide as he looked straight at Sirius.

“Sirius,” Charlod said softly, “could you spare me a moment?”

The air thickened instantly. Sirius clenched his jaw, every instinct telling him to follow Emilius, but the weight of Charlod’s stare glued his feet to the stone floor.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Charlod tilted his head, his lips curling into that familiar smile.

“You never replied to my Christmas letter. It stung a little.”

Sirius inhaled sharply. The only thing he cared about now was whether Emilius was okay, not this.

“There was never anything serious between us, Charlod. I thought I made that clear.”

“Is that so?” Charlod raised a brow and took a step forward, close enough that the scent of polished oak from his robes brushed past Sirius’s nose.

“I don’t think so. What we had wasn’t just a fleeting amusement. At least, not for me.”

Sirius let out a hollow laugh, brittle with irritation.

“Then you misunderstood. To me, that’s all it was. And I don’t care to revisit it.”

Silence settled, heavy and suffocating. Charlod looked at him, eyes dark, wounded yet stubbornly refusing to let go.

“So… someone else has taken my place, is that it? A new diversion, like the way you flit around, never truly tying yourself to anyone?”

Sirius’s grip tightened around his wand. For the first time since the conversation began, he met Charlod’s gaze head-on.

“No. Not this time. He’s not a diversion. He matters to me.”

“The one who just walked away, isn’t he?”

Sirius didn’t answer. His heart hammered painfully, a storm of emotion swirling in his chest. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t deflect.

His silence was answer enough.

Charlod’s eyes drifted toward the dark corridor where Emilius had vanished. Something flickered there, jealousy, maybe regret, but he forced it into a soft, almost tender smile.

“How strange, Sirius… You, who never let anyone hold you down. You, who toyed with people and left before dawn. I used to think no one but James Potter could ever mean more to you.”

His voice lowered, almost a whisper, sharp as a knife:

“So why him? It’s obvious he doesn’t care for you, not the way you care for him. Calm, indifferent, like you’re just another admirer clawing for a place in his world. Isn’t it ironic?”

“Sirius Black, the boy who makes others fall with a single glance, now head over heels for someone who won’t even look his way.”

Sirius’s grey eyes flared like fire, his voice echoing down the empty hallway:

“Cut the crap, Charlod! You don’t know anything!”

He dragged in a breath, chest rising and falling.

“I don’t need you to analyze my past like you know me better than I know myself. If you want to talk about flings, fine. Yes, that’s who I was. But Emilius isn’t part of that. He never was. He never will be.”

“He doesn’t need to care about me. He doesn’t owe me anything. But I know this, I've never been this serious about anyone.”

“Our beginning was a disaster, but now he actually lets me near him. He considers me a friend. And that’s already more than I ever deserved.”

He stepped forward, meeting Charlod’s eyes with unwavering certainty.

“No one has ever made me feel more like myself than he does. With him, I actually feel… alive. If that makes me look like a fool, then fine, I’ll gladly be a fool.”

“Because I love Emilius Ravophine.”

Chapter Text

Pegasus Grey was on the verge of losing his mind.

It was the full moon tonight, and since morning he had been running back and forth to help Remus slip toward the Shrieking Shack without being seen, while James and Sirius came up with all kinds of “sudden illnesses” to fool the other students, and Lily covered their Prefect duties.
Pegasus suspected Lily had figured everything out long ago. But that didn’t worry him, Lily Evans was the best person he knew. Even if she found out his own secret, it wouldn’t be a big deal.

But right after lunch, just when he planned to bring food to Remus, Hayden grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off for tutoring. Pegasus had no choice but to hand the task to James. Emilius had trained Hayden the whole morning already, so he couldn’t avoid practice forever. At least Hayden had gotten better. Pegasus no longer had to dodge flying books, cups zooming past like target practice, or sudden explosions.

Still.

“Kh–khc!”

Pegasus doubled over with another coughing fit, quickly pulling out the medicine his family’s owl had delivered that morning. He swallowed it, and Hayden rushed over.

“Pony! Hey—Pony! Are you okay?!”

“I’m… fine. The medicine will kick in soon.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. The new dose was strong; he felt the difference right away.

They’d been practicing nonstop for an hour. Pegasus only had to hold up a shield while Hayden practiced attack spells, but with his wrecked health, even that drained him far faster than normal.

Damn it. And he still had Remus to deal with tonight.

“Sit down. That’s enough for today.” Hayden supported him to a chair, guilt all over his face.

“Sorry, because I’m so slow… I keep causing trouble for you guys.”

Pegasus reached out and pinched his arm.

“Stop talking nonsense. Friends help each other. Unless you want to train for three more hours?”

And then I’ll end up in Azkaban for killing the Grey family’s precious heir, Hayden thought sadly.

“You really did improve today, Hayden. I’m not promising top marks, but you’ll pass.”

Hayden brightened instantly.

“For real? Passing is all I want! It’s not like I’m trying to be an Auror.”

The redhead smacked his shoulder.

“I’m serious. You’re in the safe zone now. Just don’t panic during the exam. Bepa, come here.”

Bepa finished half an apple on the table and obediently padded over. Pegasus picked the creature up with a smile.

“Way better staying with us than your grumpy father, right sweetheart?”

“No doubt”

He sat beside Pegasus, eyes fixed on him as if afraid Pegasus would vanish the moment he looked away.

“Don’t look at me like I’m about to drop dead,” Pegasus complained. “The new medicine is strong. I’m fine.”

“Yeah right,” Hayden muttered. Then he lowered his eyes, fingers twisting his sleeve. “I just… worry. You help everyone so much, while you…”

Pegasus cut him off.

“While I am weak, broken, living off potions. That what you were trying to say?”

Hayden went pale.

“No! That’s not—don’t say it like that!”

“It’s just the truth.” Pegasus grinned, as if they were talking about something trivial.

“It’s fine. I’ve lived like this forever. I get used to it.”

A heavy silence fell. Hayden tried to speak but couldn’t.
Pegasus gave his shoulder a pat.

“Come on. If I leave you to practice alone and you fail your O.W.Ls, that’ll be worse.”

Hayden forced a crooked smile and nodded. Then he pulled a familiar Polaroid camera from his bag.

“By the way, can you return this to Emil for me later? I have to meet Professor Sprout after this.”

“What did you borrow his camera for?”

“For my notes!” Hayden proudly held up a thick notebook filled with photos of magical creatures.

“Emil had Hagrid take me to see the Mooncalves, look, they’re adorable.” He pointed at a picture of several Mooncalves with huge round eyes.

Those big, bulging eyes always made Pegasus uneasy, but with Hayden practically glowing beside him, he just nodded along.

If only Hayden put this much effort into actual schoolwork.

“That’s not all! I even found some Bowtruckles, look, this one’s got three leaves sticking up. Cool, right?” Hayden pointed excitedly at a picture of a tiny twig-creature with beady little eyes.

Pegasus recoiled immediately. “Nope. Keep that thing away from me. I’m allergic.”

“Allergic? They’re adorable!” Hayden looked genuinely offended.

Pegasus shuddered at the memory of one crawling into his sleeve as a kid and pinching him until he screamed. One experience was more than enough to traumatize him.

“Come on,” Hayden said, closing the notebook, still not giving up. “They’re harmless. Compared to humans, most magical creatures are way gentler. Right, Bepa?

The hedgehog squeaked in agreement.

Pegasus propped his chin on his hand, watching Hayden flip through his thick notebook with that same unchanging excitement. Hayden could go on forever about Mooncalves, Bowtruckles, or anything covered in fur or scales, eyes shining like nothing in the world mattered more.

With someone who loved magical creatures that much… would he be afraid of werewolves?

Pegasus asked casually:

“Hey, Hayden. What do you think about werewolves?”

Hayden looked up.

“Werewolves? I think they’re just… misunderstood. It’s not like they choose the curse. People are scared of them, but honestly? If they had a choice, I think most of them would rather live quietly like everyone else.”

“…I see.”

Pegasus turned away, hiding a sigh.

Yeah. Maybe Remus really was lucky, lucky to have friends who still saw him as human, not a monster.

Pegasus didn’t say more. He let Bepa crawl onto his shoulder and pulled out the Playboy magazine his cousin Helen had mailed him earlier that morning. This one would stay in the Room of Requirement, there was no way he’d let James or Sirius lay a single finger on his precious stash.

“Looks like Emil’s gotten a lot better at dealing with people lately,” Pegasus said while flipping pages. “Back then if anyone asked him for anything, he’d glare at them and disappear.”

Hayden quickly rescued Bepa from Pegasus’s shoulder. “Kids shouldn’t be looking at that.”

Bepa squeaked indignantly.

“Anyway, Regulus Black isn’t some random kid. In Slytherin he’s probably the closest thing Emil has to someone he actually trusts. Well… maybe Snape too.”

“He’s a good kid. And from what I can tell, he genuinely admires Emil, not like those clingy, brown-nosing idiots. Regulus is also the reason Emil got to stay on the Quidditch team”

“Yeah, and he looks a lot like Sirius. Not identical, but similar enough. Earlier when he talked to Emil, I kept imagining Sirius trying to act all proper.”

“Gross.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

——————————-

Leaving the Room of Requirement, Pegasus felt another twist of pain in his stomach and hurriedly swallowed another dose of medicine.

Great. At this rate, he wasn’t even sure he’d have the strength to transform tonight.

The Polaroid camera in his pocket felt heavy. He stopped by the Dueling Club, but they said Emilius had left a while ago. Everyone there was still buzzing about an “insane, mind-blowing” match between Emilius and Sirius Black.

Huh?

“Emilius fought Sirius Black?”

“No, Ravophine and Black teamed up against four others. Best match I’ve ever seen!”

That was new.

Pegasus assumed Emilius had returned to the dorms, and since he was exhausted, he figured he’d return the camera later. He needed sleep before the full moon.
But as he walked down another corridor, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“…For the last time, Macmillan, I’m not interested in going anywhere with you.”

“Come on, Emilius. I know you haven’t got a date for the Slug Club Spring Gala yet. Just give me a chance.”

Pegasus didn’t need to see his friend’s face to imagine the exact expression Emilius was making right now, pure annoyance carved into every line.

Because standing in front of him was Marvin Macmillan, one of Emilius’s most hopeless admirers.

Marvin was well-known around Hogwarts. His family was tied to a famous broom company, he was loaded, and Slughorn adored him enough to sweep him into the Slug Club in fourth year. Tall, handsome, Quidditch commentator, girls followed him everywhere. But unlike Sirius, Marvin wasn’t a flirt or a walking disaster. For a Hufflepuff, he was decent, polite, and never used his family’s influence to push people around.

But after Emilius revealed his face, Marvin had gone full fanboy, he even made a few embarrassing comments during the last match and nearly got kicked out by the professor.

“You’re being really difficult, Emilius,” Marvin said, still trying. “It’s just one night. Go with me, I promise you’ll have a good time.”

“Are you deaf?” Emilius snapped, eyes sharp with irritation. “I’m not interested.”

Marvin flinched, but kept trying:

“So… you’re going alone then? The Spring Gala’s dull by yourself. I just want you to have a proper companion.”

Pegasus hid behind a pillar, mentally counting down.

Three… two… one

As expected, Emilius whirled around, his icy stare sweeping over Marvin, freezing the poor Hufflepuff in place.

“Let me make this clear. I don’t need anyone to go with. Least of all a clingy nuisance like you. Move. I’m busy.”

He strode off, robes flicking behind him. Marvin remained planted on the spot, sighing weakly at the empty hallway.

Pegasus snorted. The guy had guts—just not the useful kind. Dragging Emilius Ravophine to a party sounded harder than escorting a Hungarian Horntail.

He jogged after Emilius. Passing Marvin, he tossed:

“Macmillan, respect for the persistence. But next time bring a Shield Charm, if Emil swings at you, you’re doomed.”

Marvin’s ears went even redder.

Pegasus caught up to Emilius near the spiral staircase and pulled the Polaroid from his pocket.

“Hey. Your camera. Hayden told me to return it.”

Emilius took it without slowing.

“You really roasted Macmillan.”

“He’s been sticking to me since Slughorn announced that damn Gala. Anyway, where were you this morning? You vanished.”

Pegasus paused half a heartbeat, then blurted the first excuse he could shape:

“Uh… took Remus to the hospital wing. He wasn’t feeling great. He gets sick a lot.”

Emilius ran a finger along the edge of the camera. A faint smirk curved his lips before he casually dropped:

“Right. It’s full moon tonight.”

Pegasus froze.

“…What do you know, Emil?”

“Remus Lupin’s a werewolf.”

Pegasus stared at him like he’d been slapped.

“You—since when did you know that?”

Emilius’s tone remained flat, almost bored.

“Not long. I was reading A Dictionary of Dark Creatures and the symptoms matched perfectly. We studied it back in third year, but I didn’t connect it then. And he disappears every month. Add it up, and the answer’s obvious.”

Pegasus let out a breath.

“…Yeah. He’s a werewolf. That’s why we, you know, James, Sirius, and I, trained as Animagi. So he wouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

Emilius gave him a sideways glance. His eyes were still cool, but his voice softened just slightly:

“No one chooses something like that. I’m not telling anyone. And I’m not treating him differently. His secret’s safe.”

Pegasus let out a long breath. He knew Emilius wasn’t the gossiping type, if he said he’d keep quiet, he would. Relief washed over him, lifting a weight that had been crushing him for years.

After a moment, Emilius asked:

“So you’re transforming again tonight? Running wild with those two idiots?”

Pegasus grimaced.

“…You make us sound like someone’s loose pets.”

“How is it any different?”

“It was hell learning it, okay? We started back in second year, and barely pulled it off earlier this year. Total nightmare. If you tried it, you’d master it in half the time, your stupid genius brain would blitz through it.”

Emilius shook his head.

“No interest. I’ve got too much to deal with. I’m focusing on Occlumency.”

“Fair enough. That’s important.”

Then Emilius asked,

“But is there a way to know what you’d turn into beforehand?”

“Sure. Easiest way is to cast a Patronus. Most people’s Patronus animal matches their Animagus form. Cases where they’re different are super rare.”

Emilius nodded thoughtfully, eyes lighting briefly with curiosity.

“This summer, maybe we could try to learn Patronus Charm.”

“You haven’t learned it yet?”

“No.” He shrugged. “Just felt like it now. So, what do you think my Patronus would be?”

Pegasus grinned wickedly.

“Probably a hedgehog. Spiky, cranky, just like you.”

He got a kick to the butt for that.

———————-

In the dead of night, when all of Hogwarts lay silent and the moonlight spilled through the tall windows onto cold stone floors, Emilius slipped out of bed, wrapped in a layer of Disillusionment charms.

The corridors stretched long and hollow, portraits dozing in their frames, though every now and then a figure stirred, blinking at nothing but empty air. Emilius was far too practiced for anyone to spot him now.

Peeves drifted across a distant hall, crooning some warped melody. Emilius pressed himself against the wall, waiting in utter stillness until the poltergeist vanished. Then came Filch, shuffling along with his battered oil lamp, Mrs. Norris prowling at his heels, her sharp eyes cutting through the dark like twin blades.

Emilius held his breath.

One step. Two.

He slipped behind a pillar, letting the lamplight sweep past before gliding onward. Within minutes, the tall, iron-bound doors of the library loomed ahead, locked tight.

A short incantation.

The latch clicked open.

At night, the library was a different world. The smell of old parchment and settled dust thickened the air.

Towering shelves dissolved into shadow, with only pale moonlight dripping through the windows to trace faint patterns on the floor. The Restricted Section was sealed with a thin chain that fell away the moment he whispered a more advanced unlocking charm.

Emilius stepped through, fingers brushing across ancient spines. Old leather creaked. Wooden covers groaned softly. Some books whimpered as he touched them.
In the faint silver glow, he scanned the shelves. Every title heavy with taboo: The Eastern Arts of Ancient Darkness, Lost Creatures of the Shadow Realm, Experiments on the Soul and Their Consequences…
Enough to make an ordinary student flee in terror.

His hand stopped on a book bound in dull silver-gray leather, no ornamentation, only four stark words:

Those Sorcerers the World Forgot

He pulled it down, flipping quickly through the brittle table of contents. The ink trembled as if fading from existence, but his eyes tracked each line until they halted on the name he had been searching for:

Basil Wyndham

An entire section was dedicated to the man. The opening lines read:

"A prophet cast aside, a bearer of warnings too great for the world to hear…"

Emilius’s heart stuttered.

This was it.

This was the lead he’d been looking for.
Without hesitation, he closed the book and slipped it into his enchanted satchel. His gaze swept the shelves once more, plucking out several other promising volumes, instinct whispering they would matter.

And then

“Who’s there?!”

Filch’s voice split the silence, followed by hurried footsteps and the low growl of Mrs. Norris. Emilius reacted instantly, he extinguished his Lumos, flattened himself between two towering shelves, and glided away like a shadow peeling off the wall.

Filch barreled in. His lamp flared. Mrs. Norris’s eyes gleamed like coals.

But they found nothing, only mute, dusty books and the still air of an undisturbed library.

Emilius was already gone.

He slipped back into the corridor, where moonlight from the tall windows washed the stone floor in a cold, silver streak.

A long, echoing howl rose from the Forbidden Forest, pulling his gaze toward the dark treeline. For a fleeting second, Emilius imagined James, Sirius, and Pegasus in their Animagus forms, darting wildly between the shadows, keeping Remus company as he wrestled against the beast inside him.

Then something moved at the edge of his vision.

A dark figure was hurrying across the grounds, slipping through patches of moonlight, heading straight toward the Whomping Willow.

Emilius froze. Pegasus had told him about the secret passage beneath the Willow leading to the Shrieking Shack. There was no way someone just happened to go there, especially on a night like this.

A prickling sense of dread tightened in his chest.

Without thinking twice, Emilius followed the shadow. The bright moon washed over the grounds, revealing more and more of the figure: a thin body, shoulders hunched, lank hair hanging to the shoulders, slick and oily.

Snape.

With his long stride, Emilius caught up quickly. Snape heard the footsteps and whipped around, but he couldn’t see anything, Emilius was still under the Disillusionment Charm.

“Who’s there?!”

Emilius knew he couldn’t hide any longer. He snapped his fingers, dispelling the charm. His form shimmered back into sight right before Snape’s eyes.

Snape jolted, then scowled.

“Ravophine? Why are you following me?”

“I went out for a snack and saw you skulking around, so I wanted to see what you were up to,” Emilius replied evenly, hands tucked into his cloak pockets. “Didn’t know Severus Snape was the rule-breaking type.”

Snape stiffened, then muttered under his breath,

“Black. He told me… if I wanted to know the real truth about Lupin, I should use the passage beneath the Whomping Willow.”

Emilius stared. His heart skipped, and a dozen scenarios crashed through his mind.

Sirius Black has lost his mind?!

Was he planning to let Snape see Remus transform? Or have Snape torn apart by a werewolf?

Either way, it was the stupidest, most reckless stunt imaginable.

“Snape,” Emilius said sharply, stepping forward, “don’t go. Trust me, Black just wants to play some idiotic trick and lure you in.”

“You think I’m going to listen to you?” Snape narrowed his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line. “Black wants to bait me? Fine. But I won’t let him have the last laugh. I’ll find out the truth myself.”

“Snape. Believe me. You do not want to see what’s down there.”

But Snape had already run out of patience.

“No! Go back, Ravophine!” he snapped, eyes dark with fury. “This is my business. I’ll uncover their filthy secrets and expose all of them. This is my only chance, I won’t waste it!”

He spun on his heel and strode toward the Willow.

“Snape! Wait—”

A split second of hesitation, and Emilius lunged forward, grabbing Snape’s thin shoulder.

The moment his fingertips touched the rough fabric, something violent surged through his skull, an electric shock tearing across his mind.

Images crashed together, warped and jagged like a twisted nightmare

Snape dangling upside down in midair, James Potter’s and Sirius Black’s mocking laughter echoing around him.
Snape’s face, furious, humiliated, as the word “Mudblood” burst from his mouth, severing the last fragile thread between him and his childhood friend.

The scene shifted, darker.

An older Snape, hollow-eyed, kneeling on the floor, hands clutching the limp body of a red-haired woman.
A strangled cry ripped from his lungs, raw with grief:

“Lily!!!”

Then everything collapsed.

A thick, suffocating black swallowed it all.

Emilius jerked violently, eyes wide with shock, something warm and wet sliding from the corner of his eye. His ears rang, drowning out the world, except for Snape’s frantic voice:

“RAVOPHINE?! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?! Ravophine!!”

The world went dark.