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kingofsummer93 · 11 months

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Ex Luna Scientia

Summary:

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the Minister for Magic, is as loved by his peers as he is hated by his family. But behind the charm and irreverence hides a secret, as dark and menacing as the scar on his face.

Elain Archeron, middle sister in a trio of muggle-born witches, has only one wish: for someone to truly see her. Because when she sleeps at night, she can see it all.

Or- an Elucien at Hogwarts AU.

Chapter 20: The Final Trial

Ao3 Masterlist

Ex Luna Scientia : from the moon, knowledge

Elain had never seen the Hogwarts castle as empty as it was in the weeks following the Headmaster’s escape.

As soon as the news of Koschei’s death had been printed in the Daily Prophet (stating both the Ministry’s version of events, and the school’s), there had been a mass exodus at Hogwarts as worried parents pulled their children out of school early. The Slytherin table in the Great Hall was now mostly empty at meal times, with the exception of some seventh years, and, of course, the Slytherin Tri-Trials Champion. Half the Ravenclaws and some Hufflepuffs had left, while the Gryffindor table was mostly intact.

In a covert, whispered conversation, Elain and her sisters had agreed that what their father didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. And seeing as he didn’t exactly have access to news of the magical world other than through them, it was unlikely that he would somehow hear the rumors and demand that they come home at once.

In light of the situation, and given that only about half the students were left at the school, the end of year exams had officially been canceled for all students. Professor Amren had refused to dismiss all students early- in a show of solidarity to Helion, or in a refusal to let the Ministry take control of the school, Elain wasn’t sure, but she didn’t mind. Given that most students left were largely Helion supporters (and by extension, ministry critics) and that nobody had to be stuck indoors to study for tests, the atmosphere at school was almost cheerful.

That is, if it weren’t for the giants, stationed on permanent patrol of the school grounds.

The larger, fiercer ones had been assigned to guard the front gates leading towards Hogsmeade, as well as the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Meanwhile some of the younger, less menacing giants had been stationed near the castle and grounds.

A young giant named Grawp had soon become a favorite amongst the students, given his propensity for sitting near the edge of the lake and dangling his feet in the water. His frame, though he was half the size of the adult giants, was still large enough that he created a large patch of shade near the water’s edge, where students liked to lounge.

Immediately following Professor Spell-Cleaver’s almost arrest, Professor Amren and the other staff had locked down the castle in solidarity to their wronged Headmaster. Students who were called home by outraged parents were allowed to leave- but nobody was allowed in. Though the Ministry had placed Aurors at the school gates, and had officially claimed the school to be under their control, they couldn’t very well do anything from outside the school grounds.

Elain had wondered on more than one occasion if that was partly why Amren hadn’t decided to send everyone home at once. Perhaps she thought the presence of students inside the school would prevent the Aurors outside the gates from engaging in outright combat with the giants in order to push their way into the school.

So far it had worked, though Elain didn’t like to think of what would happen once the rest of the students had gone home and the school stood empty. What would Hogwarts look like next year, under ministry control? More importantly, would muggle-borns even be allowed to attend, under the new regime? For some reason she had a bad feeling she knew the answer to that.

On the morning of her penultimate day at Hogwarts, Elain dropped into a seat next to Lucien at breakfast and loosed a heavy sigh.

“I can’t believe we still actually have to compete,” she grumbled.

“I can’t believe they’re letting us compete,” he murmured back, pressing a reassuring hand to her knee.

Since there were so few students left at school, Professor Tarquin had vanished two of the House tables, and the students now sat where they liked, houses mingling together. It added to the air of camaraderie, though the essential wrongness of it was a constant reminder that things weren’t as they should be.

A shadow passed over the Great Hall as a large figure moving outside passed by the windows, casting them in shadow. The other reminder that things weren’t normal.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Lucien continued in a low voice. There were deep bags under his eyes, even though the full moon was weeks away. The fact that the Minister’s own son had allegedly “helped” the Hogwarts staff to concoct a story regarding Koschei’s death was a constant source of gossip in the papers these days, and the strain was wearing on him. Not for himself she knew, but for how it might be affecting his mother. “The school is under siege, and they’re letting us finish this tournament? It’s a joke.”

They’d discussed it countless times before, in whispered conversations with their friends, out of earshot of the staff who now permanently patrolled the hallways at all hours. Why allow them to continue with this tournament, when it was for all intents and purposes meant to be a fun, morale-boosting event?

“Maybe it’s their way of trying to get in the students’ good graces?” Feyre suggested, gloomily stirring her scrambled eggs around her plate. Mor’s father was a die-hard traditionalist and ministry supporter, and her best friend had been on the first train out of Hogsmeade, though reluctantly so.

“It’s going to take more than a scavenger hunt and two-thousand galleons prize money,” Elain said darkly.

Nesta appeared at her side like a storm, dropping onto the bench and exuding violence. “I cannot believe this is my last day at Hogwarts and I have to spend it on this charade.”

Elain peered curiously at Cassian, settling into a seat on Nesta’s other side- closer than should have been acceptable for an acquaintance. Nobody said anything, though Lucien smirked slightly as he glanced down the table at them.

“What would you rather spend the day doing?” he asked innocently.

Elain snorted into her pumpkin juice, but Nesta was unfazed.

“Making memories,” she said simply.

Feyre gagged loudly while the rest of them erupted in laughter. Elain busied herself with buttering a piece of toast, suddenly hyper-aware of Lucien’s hand casually resting on her knee.

They had gone as far as some under-the-shirt petting during a particularly heated makeout session, but no further. The feel of his sculpted abdomen and chest had nearly melted her brains out of her head, and since then Elain hadn’t been able to stop picturing herself ripping his shirt off- and maybe making a few memories of their own. Especially if she wouldn’t be allowed back at Hogwarts next year. At least she would have this, one last bright memory amongst the darkness.

The problem, though, was where. The hallway where the Room of Requirements was located was now constantly monitored. Lucien had explained that there was rumoured to be a secret passageway that led to the Hog’s Head, though he and his friends had never been able to find it. This also meant that she hadn’t been able to go back to the room to look at the stolen prophecy more closely- not that she was particularly inclined to do so, given Helion’s parting warning.

“What about the prize money, though?” Feyre asked. “Who cares why they’re letting you compete- you could still go home with all that cash.”

Her eyes glazed over for a second, and Elain knew what her sister was picturing- not clothing or luxuries, or fancy modern technology, but basic things they had gone without for a long time. Two thousand galleons translated to a large sum in muggle currency. It would be enough for a few months’ rent on a bigger apartment, perhaps one with AC. Maybe they could even get a new car.

“It would be poetic justice for the prize money to go to a muggle-born family,” said a voice out of nowhere. Elain nearly spilled her pumpkin juice as Nearly-Headless Nick appeared at the center of the table, his head hovering over a bowl of fruit. “You should try to win, girls.”

“Excuse me!” Lucien exclaimed, though without much gusto.

The Gryffindor ghost haughtily adjusted the ruffle that kept his head upright, and huffed. “We already lost the Quidditch cup, what’s one more loss to the noble House of Gryffindor?”

Elain snickered, but before she could hear Lucien’s retort she felt someone tap her on the shoulder.

“Elain?”

It was Azriel, smiling shyly. He was one of the few Slytherins to have stayed behind, along with Rhysand. From what Elain knew his family was as ancient and despicable as the Vanserras, and his decision to stay at Hogwarts would not have been taken lightly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Lucien had gone preternaturally still beside her- the only indication that he had heard. He wisely kept taunting Nick and didn’t react when she slid from the bench and followed Azriel into the Entrance Hall.

The front doors were thrown open to let in the late spring breeze- though the shape of the giant parked at the bottom of the front steps cast the Entrance Hall in shadow.

Azriel glanced at the giant uneasily. “That will never not be strange.”

Elain shrugged. “I like Grawp. He gave me some flowers the other day. Although, it looked more like a small bush.”

Azriel laughed quietly and brushed the floppy hair out of his eyes. “I wanted to give you something. It’s not a whole flower bush, but…”

He reached into his pocket and took out a small vial filled with golden liquid. The substance inside seemed to glitter and swirl, reflecting the rays of sunshine streaming in through the open door. The vial was three-quarters full, and Azriel blushed slightly as he saw Elain notice.

“Your liquid luck?”

“I wanted you to have it. For the tournament. Not that I think you need it,” he added quickly, blushing even deeper. “Just in case it’s rigged, or something. It should be you.”

Elain’s stomach plummeted. “You think it might be rigged? Even though there’s no ministry judges coming for the third task?”

The deputy headmistress had not budged on this- the third trial would be judged by Hogwarts staff only, or not at all. Elain couldn’t blame her for not wanting to let any ministry employees inside the castle. Even an ally like Eris would raise too many eyebrows.

Azriel shrugged, his hazel eyes going slightly icy. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. It should be you,” he said again, pressing the vial into her palm. “Imagine how much it’ll piss them off.”

“Don’t let Rhysand hear that you’re supporting the enemy,” Elain joked, unnerved by the quiet wrath in Azriel’s eyes. She wondered suddenly if he and Lucien didn’t have more in common than they thought, in regards to how they felt about their families.

“We all have a common enemy now. If we let them divide us further it’ll only be easier for them to swoop in and tear life as we know it apart.”

Elain wrapped her fingers around the vial of Felix Felicis, chilled by his words, and what they entailed. The potion was warm in her fingers, glowing bright like a ray of hope.

---

A scavenger hunt. It had seemed too easy when Amren had announced it a week earlier- childish, even, compared to the first two Trials.

The rules were simple- each champion would have to solve a series of riddles that would eventually lead them to a certain artifact, hidden somewhere in the castle. The first to find this object, and bring it back to the Entrance Hall, would win the Trial. Points would be tallied at the end, and whoever ended up with the most points would win the prize money- and the title of champion.

Not that anyone left at Hogwarts actually cared about that title anymore. The only good thing that could possibly still come from this farce was for Elain or Nesta to win that prize money- something Lucien had sworn to them he’d do everything he could to make happen, even if he had to sabotage Rhysand himself.

However, as Tarquin blew his whistle and the four champions opened the slip of paper on which their first clues were written, he realized maybe he wouldn’t have to do any sabotage after all.

Your second clue lies amongst those whose voices cannot be heard on land.

Lucien blinked, and reread the clue a second time. And then a third.

those whose voices cannot be heard on land…

Could that mean…

He looked up at the open doorway to the Entrance Hall and towards the dark surface of the lake on the grounds, glittering as it reflected the sunlight. There were legends that merpeople (and other, even more menacing beings) lived in the lake, but Lucien had never seen one, nor did he know anyone who had.

There was a cheer from the assembled students in the Entrance Hall as Elain rushed by him and towards the marble stairs. She shot him a grin and a thumbs up as she passed. The smile on her face was almost silly with excitement, her steps radiating confidence as she broke into a jog up the stairs.

Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. No lake for her, then. Nesta and Rhysand both set off soon after- Rhysand disappearing into the dungeons, and Nesta following Elain up the marble staircase.

Lucien looked back at his clue, aware of the many eyes trained on him, waiting for him to do something.

“Sometime today, Vanserra!” Vassa taunted from the edge of the crowd.

There was a ripple of laughter around the hall. Lucien flipped her the finger, and then hurried through the front doors before a teacher could tell him off.

The lake seemed to get bigger as he approached it, and infinitely more menacing than it had ever appeared. Walking into the Forbidden Forest, where he’d gone so many times before, was one thing, but this was something else entirely. There were things down there- not to mention the giant squid. For a moment he considered simply wandering around the grounds until somebody won, but there was always the risk that the prize money would go to Rhysand. He had to at least try, so he could give Elain the money if he won.

He halted at the edge of the water. It looked darker from this close up, no longer a glittering reflection of the summer sky but a dark, cold abyss.

“Right,” he said, to no one in particular.

Grawp the giant peered at him curiously from the other side of the lake, where he was sitting with his legs kicking in the water. Lucien snickered at the sight. Grawp was the size of a three-story building but most of the time he was as menacing as a dog.

“Grawp!” he called out.

The giant titled his boulder-sized head at him. Lucien beckoned, and Grawp flashed him a crooked, toothy grin. He stood, wading knee-deep in the lake towards Lucien. His steps sent waves of icy water flooding over the banks, soaking his shoes. The prospect of going into the lake suddenly seemed even less enticing.

When he was a few steps away the giant halted, bending down so he could peer at Lucien.

“Have you ever seen any Merpeople in the lake?” Lucien asked.

The giant blinked at him, his expression good-natured but uncomprehending.

“Umm…” Lucien was suddenly aware of the students gathered around the lake, and sitting in clumps throughout the grounds. He wasn’t sure what the other students had been told about the Trial, but it seemed they had been instructed to spread out throughout the grounds in order to catch a glimpse of the champions.

“Merpeople,” he said again, gesturing to the middle of the lake. He mimed wielding a trident, and then pretended to snarl and flash pointed claws, all the while feeling supremely idiotic.

Grawp’s beady eyes widened in fear, and he hurriedly backed away from Lucien, pointing with a tree-sized arm towards the very center of the lake.

“Bad,” the giant rumbled. “Bad.”

Lucien took that as answer enough. A swim with Merpeople it was, then. He shucked his shoes and robes, rolling up the hem of the pants he wore underneath. A twirl of his wand around his head later, he was surrounded by a halo of cool, crisp oxygen. He had never tested this charm underwater, but he supposed he was about to find out the hard way if he had mastered it enough.

He waded into the lake, Grawp still peering at him closely. The lake was icy despite the heat of the day, and by the time the water reached his shoulders he was shivering. Maybe his biggest problem here wouldn’t be the Merpeople or lack of oxygen, but the frigid temperature of the water.

With one last deep breath he filled his lungs with oxygen, and then dove below the surface.

The water was murky, and even this close to the surface he could barely see a few feet in front of him. He took a tentative breath, and to his relief his lungs filled with crisp air. At least that much had worked.

“Lumos!”

The tip of his wand lit with a thin, golden beam of light that only served to make the water look even more green and murky. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be any sign of movement, squid or merpeople alike. Lucien stuck his wand between his teeth and dove deeper into the water.

The lake seemed to go on forever. As he dove deeper and deeper into the murky depths the weak light filtering in from the surface faded to a faint greenish glow, and then disappeared altogether. The light from his wand illuminated reeds filled with fish- and possibly other things he didn’t care to look at too closely.

Deeper and deeper into the water he went, until he started to worry about his bubble of oxygen. Surely it would hold up as long as he willed it to?

Eventually shapes started to take form in the distance. Blocky, harsh slabs jutting out of the bottom of the lake, like some kind of underground burial ground. As he got closer he realized they weren’t tombs, but crude stone dwellings. The houses were almost entirely covered in algae, and from the windows… Lucien shuddered as he spotted the eyes peering out at him, countless faces contorted in feral grins. He was starting to think that this might have been a very, very bad mistake.

He had just made up his mind to turn around after spotting what was definitely a trident leaning against the side of a house nearby, when he spotted what appeared to be the town square. Or, what would have been a town square had this been a human dwelling. There was a circular open space, with a raised platform in the center. And on that platform stood the ugliest, strangest looking being Lucien had ever seen.

There was a painting of a mermaid in the Prefects bathroom, the occupant of which often flirted with him when he went to take baths. She had the torso of a woman, with long, glistening blond hair that she draped precariously over luscious breasts, and a glittering, scaled tail that she flipped flirtatiously from the rock on which she perched.

What stood in front of Lucien, beckoning him forward with a finger, could not be more different from the pretty mermaid in that painting. Its skin was a sickly shade of greenish-gray, with green hair that looked disgustingly similar to the vegetation that clung to the sides of the buildings around the square. Its teeth were pointy and sharp, and the finger that beckoned to him was tipped in a long black claw. Lucien almost turned around and bolted, but then he spotted the capsule in the merperson’s hand. The figures peering at him hadn’t made a move towards him, and neither had the one standing in the square. They beckoned to Lucien again, and he swam closer, wishing he had thought of a spell to somehow give himself webbed hands and feet so he could move faster through the water.

The merperson dipped his chin and inch, his eyes never leaving Lucien’s, and extended the capsule. It was made of smooth, polished rock, with a groove in the center where Lucien guessed it must open.

Lucien grinned back. “Thank you!” His voice came out sounding like a garbled jumble of words, but the merperson inclined his chin an inch again.

Lucien took that as his cue to leave. He flipped around and pushed off the slimy bottom of the lake, aiming for the surface.

Screw his father and the ministry. It didn’t matter why they were letting the school host this tournament- this was fun. And if the school wouldn’t reopen next year, or at the very least not as the school he had known for six years….he wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t think about his father’s werewolf registry, and whether Lucien would be put on it, or if he’d be allowed to come back for his seventh year. He’d think about that later- for now he’d just have this last bit of fun. And if he could win and give the Archerons the prize money, then even better.

Swimming back to the surface proved to be more difficult than swimming down had been, with long weeds constantly tangling around him and Grindylows shaking their fists at him from every angle. He was so focused on getting back to the surface that he didn’t notice the dark, massive presence looming towards him until it was directly above him, blocking his path to the surface.

Lucien twisted around, adrenaline propelling him back down the way he came. His mind suddenly filled with images of the giant squid, opening it’s gaping maw-

Something wrapped around his middle, and he thrashed, though whatever was holding him only held him harder. He still held his lit wand between his teeth, but his arms were pinned to his sides uselessly by his captor. Surely it was the squid’s tentacles- perhaps it would suffocate him before devouring him…

He managed to wriggle an arm free, and whipped his wand towards the vice holding him. “RELASHIO!”

His voice was garbled again, a trail of bubbles escaping his halo of oxygen. Red sparks went shooting out of his wand, followed by what seemed to be a jet of scalding water. There was a horrible noise from somewhere behind and above him, like an angry, surprised exclamation of pain. Whatever was holding him didn’t release him, however, and Lucien realized with horror that he was being heaved towards the surface.

Where were the teachers? Surely they should be watching, making sure that he didn’t drown or get eaten down here…

His bubble-head charm vanished as he broke the surface, and he gasped in a breath of warm air. He was still thrashing against his captor, and had just lifted his wand for a second attack when a familiar voice made him pause.

“Bad!”

Lucien glanced down, and immediately stopped fighting. It wasn’t tentacles wrapped around his middle, but wide, tree-branch sized fingers. He twisted around and was met by Grawp’s rough, boulder-shaped face twisted into a worried frown.

“Bad,” the giant repeated, glancing towards the middle of the lake. “Grawp no like.” Grawp seemed to shudder then, the motion making Lucien sway in midair.

“Yeah, Lucien no like, either,” he agreed. “Hey, Grawp, can you put me down now?”

Grawp wadded through the water and slowly deposited Lucien on the edge of the lake. “Grawpy keep student safe,” the giant said solemnly, and then slumped back on the ground, sending a wave of icy water crashing over the shore.

“Yeah, good job, mate.”

Lucien could have done without the impromptu rescue, but the giant grinned and leaned back on his hands, apparently satisfied with his efforts.

“Tik tok, Lucien!” someone yelled from the other side of the lake. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had given in to the competitive atmosphere.

He took the stone capsule out of his pocket, and pried the two halves apart. A slip of parchment lay inside, and Lucien dropped the empty capsule to the ground and quickly read his second clue.

Though we are made to fly, here is where we rest.

“What?”

A few students snickered nearby. Grawp angled his head at him in confusion.

Though we are made to fly…

Lucien quickly ran through a list of things that were made to fly. Birds, ghosts, hippogriffs…he looked towards the groundskeeper’s cottage, and the pen at the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the Hippogriffs were kept. Surely his second clue wouldn’t be hidden amongst a bunch of Hippogriffs? He’d had his fill of magical creatures for the day, and would have much preferred to run around the castle.

Though we are made to fly…

The realization hit him like a brick. “See you, Grawp!” he called over his shoulder, and then he broke into a sprint in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

He might actually be able to win this whole thing. How he’d love to see the sneer on his father’s face when he found out. Although, considering he was letting the school finish the tournament, Lucien doubted his father cared at all. Perhaps it was his way of lulling them into a sense of security.

The Quidditch pitch was deserted as he approached it. He slowed to a jog, and then yanked open the door to the shed where the brooms and Quidditch equipment were kept. It was unusually dark inside, as if the bright sunshine from outside had been blocked by curtains- though no curtains hung from the windows. Maybe it was part of the challenge, and another capsule lay hidden somewhere in the dark.

“Lumos!”

A beam of light illuminated the inside of the shed, as familiar to Lucien as his dormitory. Trunks of Quidditch robes and equipment, and rows and rows of brooms of various ages and quality lined up against the wall. His own Nimbus three-thousand and four hung from a rack on a nearby wall, along with the rest of the Gryffindor team’s brooms.

Lucien went still as he sensed a presence behind him, though whoever (or whatever) it was hadn’t made a sound. And then he saw the shadow, stretching along the dusty floor next to his own. His hand tightened on his wand but before he could so much as react he felt the tip of a wand press to the back of his neck.

“Very good, Vanserra,” a deep, leering voice drawled. The voice was familiar enough that the hair rose on the back of his neck. “That took you no time at all.”

Footsteps sounded as the person behind him walked around to face him. Lucien saw the wand first, trained on his face. And then a grin, feral and devoid of humor or good-will. His stomach plummeted as he took in the familiar face, lit by the glow of his wand.

“Tell me where the prophecy is,” Professor Hybern whispered urgently. “And we can pretend this little encounter never happened.”

Lucien’s mind was blank with shock. His mouth opened and closed in surprise, and for a moment he couldn’t think of what to say.

“What.” Somehow it came out sounding more like a statement than a question.

“Yes, yes,” Hybern said, waving his wand around impatiently, “shock and surprise, all of that. You can agonize about it later. Now tell me where the prophecy is, before I make you.”

“The…how do you know about that?” Lucien took an involuntary step backwards, but Hybern followed him. Turning on his heel and running would be foolish, but surely Hybern wouldn’t actually attack him? He was a teacher at the school, he was…

He was somehow in his father’s employ, in one way or another. The realization sent a chill down his spine that had nothing to do with his clothes still drenched in lake water.

Professor Hybern smiled again, as if he had read the realization on his face. He took a slow step closer, like a hyena closing in on its prey.

“I’m going to ask you one more time, and then things will get ugly.”

Lucien clamped his mouth shut. Whatever that prophecy showed, it was important enough that his father was desperate to get it. Desperate enough to have his mole inside Hogwarts reveal himself.

Hybern sighed. “Very well. I’d prefer the Cruciatus curse, but I wouldn’t want your screams to attract half the school here. The Imperius curse was always more Koschei’s style, you see- at least, until he went soft in his old age-”

Lucien didn’t care to hear the rest. He lunged, throwing his wand out at the same time. “Expelliarmus!”

“Imperio!”

The teacher’s spell missed him by a hair’s breadth, while his own hit a nearby trunk full of robes, sending a cloud of splinters and fabric exploding around them. Lucien used the momentary distraction to extinguish his wand, sending the shed once more into whatever unnatural darkness Hybern had cast. He blindly dove behind a chest full of Bludgers just as another spell zoomed so close to his head that it singed the top of his ear.

Hybern was blocking his path to the door, but if he could just distract him enough, he could outrun him, or even physically disable him. The potions master was hardly fit, Lucien could easily take him out.

There was a low chuckle uncomfortably close to the chest where he crouched. “Oh, ickle Lucien. Your father will laugh when he hears how you cowered from me. He’s always been so disappointed in you, but to hide like this- what a disappointment to the House of Gryffindor.”

Let him talk. Let him talk, do not react.

Lucien felt around the trunk as quietly as he could, blindly feeling for the lid and praying that the hinges wouldn’t squeak. Hybern wanted to rile him up by bringing up his father, but he wouldn’t let him.

“Did you know, he once told me that he only considered himself to have six legitimate sons-”

Lucien jumped to his feet, letting the trunk snap shut as he threw a Bludger as hard as he could at the mass of shadows in front of him. There was a grunt of pain, and a loud thud, but Lucien didn’t stick around to see what kind of damage he had inflicted. He turned and ran towards the door- but Hybern was faster.

“Legilimens!”

This time the spell found its mark. Lucien fell to his knees from the force of it, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. It felt like something sharp and dark was worming its way into his mind, talons poking in the recesses of his memories. Images flashed in front of him, as clearly as if they were photographs. He and Elain walking through the Hall of Prophecy, in disguise. He and Elain in the greenhouses, her hand timidly snaking beneath his t-shirt. Lucien growled, realizing what Hybern was doing even as he was powerless to stop it. He tried to shut down his mind, to fight against that force poking around his mind, but there was no stopping it.

Elain, cheeks pink as he scooted closer next to her in Divination class.

Elain, face ashen as she read Briallyn Scooter’s article.

Elain, tilting her face up to him in the Room of Requirements, after their Patronus lesson.

Lucien’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t move, couldn’t stop Hybern from seeing what he wanted to see.

Elain, sweaty and exhausted looking, slipping a shimmering crystal ball into a chest full of moldy robes inside the Room of Requirements.

The dark presence left his mind as swiftly as it had entered, but before Lucien could regain control of himself something hit him on the side of the head.

And then there was nothing but sweet, blessed darkness.

---

Elain had never felt so utterly confident. She felt almost drunk with it- powerful, in an unstoppable way. There was nothing she couldn’t do. This tournament was a cakewalk. She wasn’t sure why she’d ever been afraid of it at all. She could win this thing in her sleep.

There was a small, rational part of her brain that was aware it was the Felix Felicis talking, but she didn’t mind. Nor did she mind that using liquid luck in official competitions was illegal.

It should also have been illegal to unjustly accuse a man of murder and force him to flee from his school, but that hadn’t stopped the Minister for Magic. Let this be her private way of rebelling, however small and insignificant her rebellion was.

It felt good. Elain had never considered herself to be timid or unsure of herself, but she’d never had the kind of unfaltering confidence that her sisters possessed. Nesta, in her calculating, cool way, and Feyre in her slightly brash, audacious way. But with Felix guiding her movements, she could do anything. Her clues were easily solved, the obstacles blocking her path too easily breached. Her second clue had been blocked by a Boggart, and she had merely scoffed and dismissed it with a flick of her wand.

She had almost laughed out loud when she had reached her last clue.

A stone to help if all else fails.

A bezoar. The answer had appeared in her mind, as if she’d simply conjured it by will alone. The fact that she was terrible at potions heightened her sense of hilarity. Azriel would laugh when she told him. Azriel. He was sweet, if a bit odd- she should really tell Lucien to be kinder to him.

She was walking (not even running- that’s how confident she felt that the other champions weren’t even close to finishing) towards the potions dungeon when something made her stop in her tracks. Unbidden, the room of lost objects in the Room of Requirements flashed through her mind. She felt an inexplicable, urgent need to go there. Now.

She hesitated, fighting with her warring instincts, but only for a moment. Felix knew best. She’d been lucky so far, who was she to argue with it now? With that she spun on her heel and hurried back out of the dungeons, and back up the marble staircase. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Professor Alis give her a strange look, but she ignored her. It would all make sense in the end. Clearly she had missed something, or perhaps she’d misinterpreted the last clue. Either way, she had to get to that room, and quickly.

It dimly occurred to her that the room might be guarded even now. But surely the Professors wouldn’t block access during the tournament? She’d figure that out when she got there.

Sir Cadogan was oddly quiet when she approached the stretch of wall he faced, his usual barbs or taunts replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. Even his trolls were silent, standing still in their tutus and watching her approach warily.

“Oy,” the knight finally said as she faced the blank wall. “On guard, there.” There was a strange edge to his tone, but Elain dismissed it.

“Yes, yes,” she said impatiently.

The hall was dark, even though the sun shone brightly just outside the windows. That struck as odd, also, but she shrugged it off. Perhaps the Felix Felicis was clouding her vision.

She walked back and forth in front of the stone wall, picturing that room that Lucien had shown her. After her third pass a door appeared, and she walked through it.

It was just as she remembered it. A cavernous room, filled floor to ceiling with detritus of decades (or likely, centuries) past. Magical and muggle artifacts alike, mixed with furniture and all kinds of bits and bobs.

Right. Why had she come here? She couldn’t remember, other than she had felt a nagging urge to be here at this precise moment. No matter. She’d simply look around until she figured it out. All in good time.

She sighed and grinned, her posture loose and easy as she ambled slowly through the stacks of lost objects. There was something melancholy about all these lost possessions. Everything here had meant something to someone, once. It was like a graveyard of memories.

Once again something made her pause. There was a whispering, something nagging at her, other than the Felix. The Felix had urged her to come here, but hadn’t told her why.

Come see....

Look....

The whispers made the hair on the back of her neck rise, and she shivered, feeling suddenly much more sober. Maybe the liquid luck was wearing off. She’d only taken half of what was left- she felt bad taking all of it for this, even though Azriel had given it to her.

See…

Elain had turned and started walking before she even processed what she was doing. Her feet moved of their own accord, and then she was standing in front of a familiar trunk. She knew what she would find inside before she even opened it- and dimly, she recognized that she shouldn’t be doing this. Professor Spell-Cleaver had specifically asked for it to remain hidden, and she hadn’t dared to go against his wishes. And yet, her luck hadn’t led her astray yet.

She pushed aside the smelly robes trimmed in moldy lace, and there it was. Shining as if lit with an inner light, the vapor inside swirling around and around.

See, it urged her. Look.

Her hands had wrapped around the prophecy before she could talk herself out of it. It felt warm, alive in her fingers.

“Well done, Ms Archeron.”

Elain nearly sent the prophecy smashing to the ground in shock. She whirled, clutching the orb to her chest.

There was a brief, idiotic moment in which she felt relieved at the sight of the familiar, if not exactly friendly, face. And then she noticed the wand pointed directly at her head- along with the sinister smile on her teacher’s face.

“Professor Hybern?” Her voice came out high and squeaky.

“You can imagine my dismay when I came in here and saw all this junk. But then in you walked. And I didn’t even have to ask.”

Elain had no idea what he was talking about, her focus solely on the wand he kept trained to the middle of her forehead.

“What…what do you mean? Is this part of the Trial?”

Professor Hybern let out a bark of laughter. “You always were a sweet girl. More so than that disgusting brute you chose to date.”

Elain felt her hackles rise. “What did you just say?”

“He didn’t talk easily,” the teacher continued, ignoring her. “He put up quite a fight, actually. But you shouldn’t blame him, dear. It wasn’t his fault.”

Her heart rate sped up as dread and adrenaline gripped her like a vice. Whatever confidence she’d had from the Felix Felicis was gone- or nearly. Lucien. Her mind was struggling to keep up with what Hybern was telling her. He had somehow gotten to Lucien, and forced him to reveal the location of the prophecy.

“What did you do to him?” she blurted.

He was ok. He had to be. She would know- she told herself that somehow she would know if he wasn’t.

Hybern laughed. “Oh, he’ll be alright. Unfortunately.”

Elain’s shoulders sagged in relief, but then Hybern was advancing on her. She tried to back away from him, but the back of her knees hit the trunk behind her. Her luck had finally run out, it seemed. She was trapped here.

“Now hand me that prophecy, unless you want things to get ugly.”

“Why do you want it so badly?” She was stalling, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t very well fight him, and there was nowhere for her to run but deeper into the stacks of lost objects.

“Let me worry about that. Give it to me before I make you.”

“It’s mine.” She clutched the prophecy tighter to her chest, edging around the trunk and backing away from the teacher still slowly inching his way towards her. Any second now he was going to lunge at her (or worse) and there’d be nothing she could do to stop it. “I made this prophecy in the first place. It doesn’t belong to you.”

Hybern let out a frustrated growl. Elain wondered if he was reluctant to attack her because she was a girl, or because he was afraid of accidentally smashing the prophecy.

“It belongs to the person about whom the prophecy is about,” he spat.

Elain froze. “What does that mean?” Hybern winced, as if realizing what he had just unwittingly revealed. “The prophecy is about the Minister? Is that why he stole it?”

“Enough of this. I didn’t want to have to hurt you, girl, but I will if I have to.”

Elain turned on her heel and ran just as the professor was raising his wand. The room was a labyrinth of twisted passageways through mountains of junk, and she took turns at random as Hybern thundered after her. It seemed to go on forever as Elain zigzagged deeper into the room. Hybern’s frustrated shouts echoed behind her, wood splintering as curses hit piles of broken furniture.

“Accio Prophecy!”

The orb slipped out of her fingers, and Elain lunged, grappling madly for it. Another curse went flying besides her and hit a stack of thick leather bound books. Elain ducked to avoid the exploding tomes, losing her grasp on the orb. It fell to the floor and shattered, and before she could react dense mist was swirling in front of her, whispering to her.

And then her vision went dark entirely.

She recognized the man immediately, though the look of terror in his water blue eyes was in direct contrast to his usual jovial, if slightly haughty demeanor.

“What will you do with us?” The muggle Prime Minister’s voice quivered as he cowered from the advancing figures in front of him.

A dry laugh, if such a mirthless sound could be considered laughter. “For starters, I’m going to let my dogs here have a bite of you. They’re very hungry, you see, and they’ve developed a taste for muggle flesh.”

The muggle blanched as the two men flanking the Minister for Magic bared their canines.

“And then,” Beron continued, “the wizarding world will hide no longer.”

Elain gasped in a breath as the vision faded and the room came back into focus. Her heart was pounding so fast that she tasted bile. Beron hadn’t simply been building an army as some sick experiment, after all.

She jumped to her feet and whirled before she remembered where she was, and who had been chasing her.

Hybern stood behind her, his face contorted with fury. “You stupid girl. You’ve left me no choice but to kill you.”

“Why?” she blurted. “Why would he do this?”

Hybern’s laugh was low and wicked. “We’ve hidden in the shadows for too long. It’s high time for muggles to serve us, as they should have been doing all along.”

His wand was rising again. He was going to kill her and dump her body somewhere in this graveyard of detritus where nobody would ever find it. Or perhaps they’d come up with a tragic story of how she died in a freak accident during the tournament. Either way, she wasn’t walking away, and there would be nobody to sound the alarm about the Minister’s sinister plans.

“I really am very sorry about this, you know,” Hybern said, almost conversationally. “I wasn’t planning on having to kill you at all.”

“Then don’t,” Elain squeaked. To her horror her throat was closing up in a sob. She didn’t want to die like this, cowering and sobbing, but she couldn’t help it. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Hybern laughed again. Elain used the split second of distraction to scan the path behind him for anything she could use to her advantage. She couldn’t duel him, but perhaps if she could cause a big enough explosion, as he had done with the books, she could-

Her breath caught in her chest. Hybern mistook it for a gasp of fear, and didn’t turn around to see what she had seen. A shadow, growing longer as whoever it was approached on silent feet.

“But you would, wouldn’t you? And then the whole plan would be ruined.”

“People won’t stand for this,” Elain retorted. “The Minister can’t actually think this will work.”

“Bah!” Hybern waved a hand dismissively. “Some will be opposed at first, of course. There’s always two sides to any revolution. But by then the damage will be done.”

“No, it won’t.” Elain would have recognized that deep voice anywhere, and she could have wept with relief as Lucien crept up behind Hybern.

The professor whirled, but Lucien’s wand was already trained on him.

“Expelliarmus!”

Hybern’s wand went flying before he could block the spell, and a split second later the teacher was lunging for Lucien.

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Professor Hybern froze mid-step and hit the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood oozed from his face and what was surely a broken nose, but Elain didn’t bother feeling bad before taking Lucien’s outstretched hand and running for the door.

“Your father!” she gasped as soon as the door snapped shut behind them. “He’s going to kill the muggle Prime Minister.”

Lucien blanched. “I figured that’s what he meant.”

“Today,” Elain continued. “He’s doing it today.” She couldn’t explain where the certainty came from, but she knew it was true down in her bones. Perhaps it was Felix, guiding her with one last bit of luck.

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t question her. “Maybe that’s why he was so keen on Hogwarts hosting the tournament this year. It kept people distracted from what he was up to. I bet he thinks the Headmaster is hiding somewhere near the school to keep an eye on the tournament, and won’t get in his way.”

“We need to find Professor Spell-Cleaver. He has people working with him within the ministry- they can put a stop to this before it goes too far.”

“Go to the owlery, send Andras. Write down everything you know. I‘ll go find professor Amren.”

Elain turned on her heel, but Lucien clamped a hand on her upper arm and dragged her in for a fierce kiss.

“Ugh!” Sir Cadogan exclaimed. “Children, please!”

Elain smiled against his lips, despite it all.

“He won’t get away with this,” Lucien whispered, pressing his forehead to hers for a heartbeat. “And when it’s all over, I’ll make sure everyone knows that it was you who saved the day.”

Elain giggled. “And I’ll deny it.”

“I know. It’s part of what I love about you.” And with that he turned and ran down the hall.

Elain hesitated for a beat, his words echoing around her brain.

“I daresay that boy’s just declared he loves you!” Sir Cadogan quipped from behind her.

Elain felt her face grow hot- and then she remembered where she was. Right. She’d analyze that later.

She broke into a run, and didn't stop until she reached the owlery. The mingled scents of animal droppings and hay hit her like a brick wall as she stepped into the circular room. Owls of all colors and description dozed around the room, but she found Lucien’s snowy owl immediately where he perched next to two barn owls. The owl opened a bleary eye as she approached him, clicking his beak in irritation.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have a job for you. It’s important.”

The bird sat up straighter at that, ruffling his feathers and blinking at her with his mismatched eyes. Elain found some stray parchment and quickly scratched out a letter to Professor Spell-Cleaver, telling him what she had seen and what Professor Hybern had tried to do. When she was done she rolled it into a tight scroll and closed with a piece of string.

“Find Professor Spell-Cleaver,” Elain told the snowy owl. “As fast as you can, Andras.”

The owl clicked his beak importantly and held out a leg for her to attach the note. Before she could do so, however, there was a flurry of movement around her as owls fluttered their wings and woke from their slumber. Andras’ eyes went slightly wide and he seemed to go very still.

Elain whirled, heart pounding, and gasped at the sight of a magnificent phoenix sitting on the ledge of one of the many windows cut into the circular tower. She had never seen Professor Spell-Cleaver’s phoenix, but they were such rare animals that she had little doubt to whom this one belonged to. The bird looked at her for a beat, and there was such intelligence in its eyes that Elain felt like the bird could somehow read her mind.

And then he stretched out his brilliant ruby and gold wings, swooped through the air, and snatched the scroll of parchment from her fingers. Another flap of his ruby wings and the phoenix had flown out of the owlery and disappeared into the late afternoon sunshine.

---

He should have listened to his wife all those times she had urged him to retire.

The Prime Minister couldn’t stop thinking about it as the door to the safe room slammed shut, and the lock clicked into place. If he had only listened to her he could be with her in their country house at this very moment, far away from whatever disaster was currently taking place in the streets of London. And more importantly, it would be someone else’s responsibility to clean up the mess afterwards.

Drugs. That had been the last report he’d been given before getting sequestered to safety. A coup, led by a rogue militia in some type of drug-induced hysteria.

It was, of course, all wrong, but he couldn’t exactly explain to anyone how he knew this. Tear gas and barricades would do nothing against this particular enemy. And neither, he thought uncomfortably as he looked at the solid iron door to the safe room, would locks.

It was them. The others, as he referred to them in the privacy of his own mind. The minister had known something was wrong when that Headmaster had kept showing up to placate him about the odd goings-on in London during the past few months. Attacks, disappearances, not to mention that unnatural fog. He might be getting on in age, and his health might not be what it used to be, but his mind still worked fine, thank you very much.

And now this. He’d have a word with that other Minister once this was all over. He’d warn him to keep his people under control, or else-

A loud pop echoed through the room, and the minister gasped in fright and fell off his chair as three figures appeared in front of him. He recognized the man in the center of the trio immediately, though he had met him only once. The minister would never forget that day, nor would he ever forget the face of the man who had shattered everything he had ever known about the world he lived in. The Minister for magic was a short, stocky man, with cold eyes and a smile that was a little too asp-like for comfort. Flanking him were two men he had never seen before, but their appearance sent a chill down his spine. They looked at him with savage, leering expressions, and their eyes appeared to be slightly glazed.

“You!” The minister hauled himself to standing with as much dignity as he could muster, suddenly enraged. How dare he just show up like this! He was so enraged he didn’t even bother to wonder at the fact that the man had just appeared out of nowhere. The Headmaster at least always sent a letter first, though seeing him walk out of bright-green flames in his fireplace was no less disconcerting.

“I know your people are behind this,” he continued. “I don’t know what they think they’re doing, but you need to go out there and put a stop to this madness.”

“Minister,” the wizard said, “How good to see you.”

The muggle spluttered in indignation. “In case you haven’t noticed, a band of degenerates are attempting a coup against my government, and I know for a fact that they are your people.”

Minister Vanserra waved a hand in apparent boredom. The muggle froze at the sight of the wand held casually between his fingers. At least the other one had the decency of not waving that thing around in his presence.

“Mine they are, though people is not exactly the term I’d use for them.”

“What does that-”

“Let me spell it out for you, Minister. You have two choices. You can yield your government to me now, and we can continue to work together peacefully as we’ve always done. Except, from now on, I’m relieving you from the heavy burden of carrying this secret all by yourself.”

“You… what does that-”

“Or,” the wizard interrupted, “you can resist, in which case I’ll be forced to kill you. I’d rather not go to the trouble of appointing a replacement who suits my needs, so I really would much prefer the first option.”

The muggle clasped his hands behind his back to hide their trembling, though he knew the wizard would see through his false bravado. His words weren’t making sense, and yet he had a vague, and horrible idea that he knew precisely what was going on here.

He glanced behind him at the locked door, and at the cameras mounted into the ceiling. Perhaps he just had to keep him talking long enough. Pretend to yield, until the threat could be neutralized.

But by whom? It would take hours to assemble the military might necessary to take on even a few wizards.

“And before you take too long to decide,” the wizard drawled, “please know that the degenerates, as you called them, are actually a host of highly trained werewolves and vampires. They’re under orders to stay relatively civil for now, but that can change very quickly.”

Terror shot through his veins, rendering him momentarily mute. “What do you plan on doing to us?”

The wizard smiled, though there was nothing but cold menace in the gesture.

“For starters, I’m going to let my dogs here have a bite of you. They’re very hungry, you see, and they’ve developed a taste for muggle flesh.”

The muggle blanched as the two men flanking the Minister for Magic bared their canines.

“And then,” Beron continued, “the wizarding world will hide no longer.”

The muggle fell to his knees. “Please- please, you said you didn’t want to kill me. I’ll work with you, I’ll do anything-“

“You will do no such thing.”

He was so blinded by terror that at first he couldn’t tell where the deep voice had come from. And then another man (another wizard) stepped out of the shadows.

It was the oddest sight the minister had ever seen, and that was saying something, all things considered. The Headmaster wore robes of deepest blue, edged in golden sunbursts. He looked a little unkempt, at least more so than usual, and on his shoulder sat the most magnificent bird he’d ever seen. Its plumage was a mixture of fire red and vivid gold, with tail feathers that dropped all the way to the floor. Like some kind odd peacock.

The door slammed open, and the minister scrambled to his feet and backed away towards the wall as wizards flooded the small space. Their wands were all raised- but not towards him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minister Vanserra spat.

The floor seemed to tremble as the Headmaster stepped forward, and the minister noted with some satisfaction that Vanserra seemed to recoil slightly.

“Please know that it brings me great joy to say this. Beron Vanserra, you are under arrest for the following crimes: the attempted violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, the unauthorized and unregulated use of the Imperius charm, and the unjust detainment of the following individuals. Bartemius Koschei, Silas Crump, Chiara Lobosa, Scarlet Sparks…

The Minister for Magic continued to rage as the list of names went on and on. Wizards surrounded him on all sides, wands raised.

“He is a WANTED FUGITIVE!” the minister bellowed, gesturing towards the Headmaster. “Arrest him!”

“That’s not going to happen,” Helion said smoothly. “It’s over, Beron. We have the evidence we need to let you rot in Azkaban forever.”

The Prime Minister did not have any idea what Azkaban meant, but from the look on the Minister for Magic’s face he didn’t think he wanted to find out, either. A kind-looking wizard was guiding him towards a chair, and he was suddenly so exhausted that he didn’t protest. He wasn’t sure how his legs were still functioning properly.

“It’s all right, Sir,” the man was saying. “Our team of Obliviators are already hard at work to contain the situation. The injured are being dealt with as we speak.”

“Quite right.”

The Minister didn’t have the energy to tell the man he had no idea what he was talking about. He sighed heavily as he considered the shitstorm he would be facing with the media. “I need to telephone my wife.”

The wizard brightened. “I know what that is! It’s like the visitors’ entrance to the Ministry for Magic!”

“The…” The minister racked a hand over his face. “Sure. If you say so.”

---

Lucien had barely slept. He and Elain had spent the entire evening and part of the night in the Headmaster’s office, going over the events of the night before over and over again. First to Professor Amren, then to various ministry members, then to Professor Spell-Cleaver. The Headmaster had reappeared around midnight, and though he looked nothing short of murderous he had simply sat down at his desk as if he had never left.

And then, finally, they had recounted the story to his mother. Lucien was so wrung out by then that he had almost wept as she had appeared in the Headmaster’s hearth alongside Eris. Whatever adrenaline had kept him functioning finally gave out, and he let his mother cradle him like a child as the full implication of what had happened hit him like a brick.

His father had been arrested. Arrested, and taken to Azkaban, where he would await a trial that most likely would not end up being kind to him.

“It’s over,” his mother had whispered, as she held him in a vice grip. He wasn’t sure if it was more to reassure him, or her.

It wasn’t over, of course. There would be a trial, which would most likely get dragged out into a long and very public spectacle. The newspapers would have a field day with it, and it would be while yet before his family could get any sort of peace.

In the end Madam Madja had clucked her way into the Headmaster’s office and demanded he and Elain be allowed to get some rest. She had practically forced a sleeping tonic down their throats, and though sleep had claimed him the second his head hit the pillow, nightmares had plagued him the whole night.

As soon as dawn broke he gave up trying to sleep and silently crept out of the dormitory. The castle was still slumbering, unsurprising given the early hour, but it almost felt as if all its inhabitants had breathed a sigh of relief, and could finally sleep easily. Lucien wondered how long it would take for him to sleep without his treacherous mind immediately conjuring up the image of Professor Hybern threatening Elain. Or of those cells in Azkaban, filled with people who weren’t so different from him. He needed to finish packing, but there was one last question he needed answered that he hadn’t dared ask last night in front of everyone.

The stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office looked at him coolly as he approached.

“Cockroach clusters.”

The gargoyle blinked at him insolently, but didn’t move. Shit. Of course he would have changed the password, after everything. Lucien sighed and turned to leave. He was halfway down the hallway when a pointed cough behind him made him turn around again. The gargoyle had moved, though it looked offended to have been asked to do so.

“Thank you!” Lucien hurried past it and up the spiral stairs. The double doors to Helion’s office were ajar, but he knocked before poking his head in.

“Mr Vanserra. Come in.”

The Headmaster had his back to him as he stood at the window, looking out at the rising sun. When he turned there was a warm smile on his face, and though Lucien doubted the Headmaster had slept at all, he looked as upbeat as ever.

“There’s nothing like a sunrise over the lake, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucien glanced out the window, to the candy-colored sky reflected in the mirror-still lake. There was a lone figure sitting on the banks, also looking in the direction of the sunrise.

“I’m not usually awake to see it,” he replied truthfully.

Helion chuckled, and turned towards the window again. They watched as Grawp stretched his arms wide, and then curled up on his side underneath a large oak.

“Where will they go?” Lucien asked curiously.

“They are on their way back to their home in the mountains. With the eternal gratitude and friendship of the wizarding community, something they haven’t had in centuries. And as for Grawp,” the Headmaster shook his head fondly, “he has requested to remain at Hogwarts. Our groundskeeper is training him as an apprentice.”

It was Lucien’s turn to laugh. “He might be a match for the Blast-Ended Skrewts.”

“Indeed.”

Lucien glanced at the lake again, and shivered as he remembered the grey faces of the merpeople, peering at him curiously from their windows. There was another sight that he wouldn’t soon forget.

Bad, Grawp had warned him.

“Are the merpeople evil?” he blurted. “I never knew there were so many of them.”

Helion blinked in apparent surprise, and Lucien immediately felt idiotic. “Not more or less evil than anything residing within the Forbidden Forest.” The Headmaster gave him a long, steely look, as if reminding him that he was well aware of much time Lucien had spent in that very forest.

Lucien coughed awkwardly. “Right. Like the giants.”

“Giants, Acromantulas, Centaurs. They all look out for themselves, in the end. We are all only as evil as our intentions.”

The silence that fell was heavy, as if a shadow had fallen over them- a shadow shaped like the man whose name he bore, and whose intentions had never been anything but evil.

Helion sighed heavily. “Cup of tea?” He waved a hand lazily and a tea set appeared on his desk.

Lucien sat in one of the chairs facing the desk, steeling his nerves for the question he truly wanted to ask.

Helion leaned back in his chair, cradling his cup of tea. “It’s going to take a while before life starts feeling normal again. But it will, eventually.”

To his horror Lucien felt his throat start to close up. What was wrong with him? He gulped some tea and coughed as the hot liquid burned down his throat.

“It’s just- how could he think this could work? Why would he even want it to?”

The Headmaster shrugged. “Power is a heady thing. Some people can never get enough. We might never know the full reason behind his motivations.” He seemed to hesitate a beat, and then leaned forward, his gaze serious. “There are some who would think it insensitive of me to tell you this, but you’re an adult, and you deserve the truth.”

Lucien’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t sure how many more secrets or revelations he could handle today. “What?”

“Your father will be found guilty, there’s no question about it. And when that happens, it will be up to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement to decide his fate.”

“Ok…”

The Headmaster hesitated another beat. “The new Head of Magical Law Enforcement is…how do I say this? Quite ruthlessly without mercy when it comes to the former Minister. Particularly in light of his treatment of Mr Koschei.”

“Good. He doesn’t deserve any mercy.”

“Lucien.” Helion sighed heavily again. “What I’m trying to tell you is that there’s a possibility Beron will be sentenced to the Dementor’s Kiss.”

Somehow that hadn’t even occurred to Lucien. “Oh.”

It was so silent in the office that it seemed even the paintings of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses were holding their breath. Lucien loosed a heavy breath. “Perhaps that might be better for my mother. Knowing he’s truly gone.”

A strange look passed over Helion’s face. “Easier for her, but not for you?”

Lucien snorted. “My father hasn’t been in my life for a long time. It makes no difference to me whether he’s rotting in a cell or dead in the ground.”

Harsh words, perhaps, but no harsher than the treatment he’d received (the treatment they’d all received) at the hands of that man. And perhaps he didn’t truly mean it yet, but eventually, once the dust settled, he would.

“You’re nothing like him, you know. You could never have been. There’s nothing of him in you.”

Lucien blinked. It was an oddly familiar thing to say, even for Helion, and he felt himself flush with embarrassment.

“I knew your mother at school, you know,” Helion continued, seemingly undeterred by Lucien’s embarrassment.

That was news to Lucien. Helion seemed so ageless that he could have declared he was anywhere between thirty-five and a hundred years old and Lucien wouldn’t have questioned him. “I didn’t know that.”

“She was…very special to me.”

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in, and when it did Lucien’s mouth dropped open in shock. He slumped a little in his chair, as if it would help the floor open up and swallow him whole. “You dated my mother?” he blurted.

The Headmaster chuckled softly. “Your mother was my first love. My only love, perhaps.”

He wasn’t sure why Helion was choosing this moment to tell him this, but he suddenly couldn’t meet his gaze. “Why are you telling me this?”

He was silent for so long that Lucien was forced to look up and meet his gaze. “Because I made the mistake of letting her go. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

Lucien flushed hotly, fiddling with his tea cup. “I don’t plan to.”

“Good.” The Headmaster leaned back, still peering at him intently.

Another long moment passed. Lucien cleared his throat, still unnerved by the odd turn their conversation had taken. “Sir. There’s something I’ve been wondering about.”

“And here I thought you’d simply come here to entertain an old man.”

Lucien huffed a nervous laugh. “Sir. What’s going to happen to them?”

The humor twinkling in Helion’s eyes disappeared. Lucien knew that he was well aware exactly who he was talking about without him having to specify it.

“Many of them have fled,” he started. “Either they developed a liking for violence, or were inclined that way to begin with. You’re not going to like hearing this, but many of them served your father of their own free will.”

“Even though he forced them to report their every move and then arrested them as if they had no rights at all?”

Helion shrugged. “Like I said, I believe a lot of them had developed an inherent love for violence, and it seemed a natural alliance to make. Perhaps they even preferred it to the alternatives- secrecy, or a lifetime of prejudice and struggle.”

“And the others?”

A long pause. “A lot of them carry scars from what they were forced to do that will take a long time to fade. But they will be given the help they need, and will be rehabilitated into wizarding society as full citizens. As they should have been in the first place.”

Lucien’s throat closed up again. He needed to get out of here before he started weeping like a child in front of the headmaster.

“Today’s the first day of a new age,” Helion continued fiercely. “A new regime. Where there is no stigma for being different from others.”

“It won’t be so easy,” Lucien choked out.

“No,” Helion agreed. “But it will be worth it.”

There was something else he needed to ask, but Lucien couldn’t quite find the words.

“Your secret is safe,” Helion said gently, guessing exactly what Lucien couldn’t voice. “For as long as you wish it to remain as such. There is no pressure to reveal it to anyone if you don’t wish to.”

Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I…I’m not ready for people to know. Not yet.” Perhaps one day, when the taint of what his father had done had faded.

“And, Sir…” Lucien shuffled awkwardly in his chair. “My friends…I know they broke the law, but they meant no harm by it. They only wanted to help me-“

Helion lifted a palm to silence him. “Lucien. I hope you’re not under the impression that I wish to report my students to the authorities for displaying an impressive amount of magical ability?”

“I-” Lucien didn’t quite know what to say. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Helion chuckled. “I’m not going to stop you, but do be careful, will you?”

“Yes, Sir,” Lucien said quickly. He got to his feet before Helion could change his mind.

“If there is anything you or your family needs,” Helion said gently. “Please let me know. I’m at your service.”

Lucien had to look away again. “Thank you sir. I, uh…I should go finish packing.”

“Of course. Enjoy your summer.” It seemed an odd thing to say, given what they both knew was likely to happen shortly, but Lucien appreciated the sentiment all the same.

“Thanks, Professor.”

He was almost to the door when he paused and turned around again.

“Yes?” the Headmaster asked.

“It’s just, I keep thinking of something my father said, the night you…the night Koschei died.”

Helion frowned. “Go on.”

“He said…he said something about wanting me to remember my father this way. Why would he say that? Why would he want me to remember him like that?”

That same strange look passed over Helion’s features, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Beron was a hateful man. Perhaps he only meant to rattle you.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

Helion’s words went around and around his mind as he slowly made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the figure trying to get his attention until they were directly in front of him, blocking his path.

“Lucien! Hey.”

“Rhysand.” Lucien felt a trickle of dislike at the sight of the Slytherin, as he always did.

Rhys ran a hand through his immaculate black hair, looking uncharacteristically awkward.

“I heard what happened.”

Lucien gritted his teeth. “I’m assuming there’s not a single person in the entire wizarding community who hasn’t heard by now.”

Rhys winced, but rallied. “I wanted to give you this.” He reached into his pocket and held out a heavy velvet pouch.

Lucien blinked at him. “What’s that?”

“The winnings from the Tri-Trials Tournament.”

“Oh. Congrats.” Lucien had completely forgotten about the Tournament, and found he couldn’t bring himself to care that Rhysand had won.

Rhys shrugged. “I won by default, nobody else finished the last Trial…” To his credit he managed to look slightly sheepish. “You should have this.”

“Why? Because my father was arrested?” His tone was uncharitable, perhaps, but it felt good to vent for a second.

“No. Because you would probably have won, if you hadn’t…” he trailed off uncomfortably.

Lucien remembered that Hybern had been Rhysand’s Head of House. Rhys may be a prick, but he wasn’t a sociopath.

“Anyway,” Rhysand continued, thrusting the sack of coins at him, “do what you want with it. I just wanted the title, really.” His smug grin lacked some of his usual bravado, but Lucien smirked back nonetheless.

Elain was waiting for him by the doors to the Great Hall, and Lucien almost sagged in relief as he saw her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the marble staircase wordlessly.

“Where are you taking me?”

She threw him a little grin over her shoulder, and something about the gleam in her eyes made his blood heat a few degrees. They were silent until they reached Sir Cadogan’s corridor. The knight was busy leading his trolls in a sequence of pliés and barely glanced at them as Elain walked back and forth across the empty stretch of wall. A door appeared, and she tugged him inside.

Lucien had to glance back at the door to make sure they were actually inside the Room of Requirements. Where there should have been a floor there now stretched a vividly green lawn, rippling with a phantom wind and dotted with patches of wildflowers. The ceiling mimicked the sky outside- less believably than the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, but still giving the impression of basking in the early morning sunshine. A checked picnic blanket had been laid out, with a variety of breakfast dishes and a pot of tea.

Lucien laughed. “A picnic in a garden.”

Elain smiled shyly. “You really can ask this room anything you want.”

“We could have gone outside, you know, if you wanted a picnic.”

Her cheeks turned deliciously pink. “I wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Lucien pulled her in close, pressing his nose to her sweet-smelling curls. Her body relaxed against him, and she was so soft and warm that he could have happily stood there until the start of next term.

“It’s just…” Her voice was muffled from where her face was pressed against his chest. “Everyone will be looking at us weird and asking questions, and I just-“

He squeezed her tighter. “I know.” He felt such a rush of affection for her then that it knocked the breath clean from his lungs. “Archie?”

She looked up at him, brown eyes warm and trusting. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps he’d simply gotten lucky.

“I love you.”

Her eyes widened, and then her face split into a grin so wide it looked like it hurt. “I love you too, Lucien.”

His throat was tight again. What was wrong with him today?

“Really?”

Elain laughed. “Yes, silly.”

He kissed her then, sweetly, slowly, and she melted further into him. Lucien would have happily stood there kissing her until it was time to leave for the Hogwarts Express, but Elain tugged him down to the blanket.

She broke the kiss, eyes searching, and bit her lip shyly.

“Yes?” he teased, nudging her hair with his nose.

Elain swallowed thickly. She took in a shaky breath, and then shifted until she was straddling his lap.

“Oh.”

He pressed a kiss to her neck, and then another, until she pushed at his chest to make him look at her.

“I don’t want yesterday to be what we think of when we remember our last day.”

“We’re coming back next year, you know,” he teased, if only to calm his racing pulse.

She fixed him with such a dry look that he nearly whined. “You know what I mean.”

He laughed and pressed his mouth against her ear. “And what would you like to remember instead?”

Her fingers tightened on the hem of his shirt for a beat, and then slipped underneath tentatively.

“If you want to see me without my shirt on you’re going to have to ask.”

She shivered, and Lucien had to shift to avoid her noticing the evidence of the effect she was having on him. Elain chose that moment to look down, and her delicate blush deepened.

“I could just take it off myself.”

Lucien groaned. Merlin she would kill him. He lay back on the grass, admiring the view of Elain straddling him.

“Do your worst, Archie.”

It was only later, once the Hogwarts Express was nearing King’s Cross Station, that Lucien remembered the sack of coins in his trunk. He fished it out and dumped it into Elain’s lap.

She lifted her head blearily from where she’d been dozing against the window. “What’s that?”

“Your payment.”

She blinked at him for a beat, and then threw her head back and laughed. Lucien let the sound wrap around him, like a cloak of sunshine he could take out and wrap around himself in the dark days ahead.

Vassa kicked him in the shin and rolled her eyes. “Pig.”

“What? I meant for doing so great during the Tournament. It's not my fault you all have dirty minds.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Elain fell silent, looking at the bag of money with a mixture of emotions on her face.

“Good things can still come from it, you know,” Lucien said gently. “If they don’t, then the dark side wins.”

“That sounds like something Helion would say,” Jurian drawled from where he sat curled like a cat in Vassa’s lap.

Something about made Lucien pause. It hit him slowly at first, and then all at once, like an avalanche.

You’re nothing like him, you know. You could never have been.

There’s nothing of him in you.

I want you to remember your father this way.

Your mother was…very special to me.

“Oh, Merlin’s saggy tits!”

---

A few years in the not-so-distant future

Lucien was late again.

They’d both been working long hours lately, and it wasn’t unusual for him to go on top-secret missions for his work as an Auror, but Elain had known him long enough to tell when he was lying.

She tried not to overthink it, but she couldn’t help the worry that gnawed away at her nerves. There was something he wasn’t telling her, and it had nothing to do with work.

She paced back and forth in their flat overlooking Diagon Alley, trying and failing not to glance at the door every minute. He was just late. No matter that it was Winter Solstice- their anniversary. He couldn’t help when work called him away.

Still, he could have sent a note.

She was uncorking a bottle of wine (and fuming slightly) when she heard a loud pop! and Lucien Apparated directly into their kitchen.

His expression was sheepish, though his eyes shone with repressed excitement. “Hi love. Sorry I’m late!”

“That’s ok.” Elain tried to sound nonchalant but she knew Lucien could read her as well she could read him.

He crossed the room in three long strides and folded her into his arms. Elain couldn’t help but let him embrace her, even with her lingering annoyance. His nose was cold where he pressed it against her neck, and he smelled like the winter air outside.

“It’s not,” he murmured. “We’ve both been so busy and I know you wanted tonight to be special.”

Elain felt rotten. “It’s fine. You’re here now. I know work has been tough lately...”

Lucien pulled back and gave her another sheepish grin. “I have a confession to make. I haven’t just been busy with work.”

Her stomach dropped. She’d been right. She had known something was wrong but she’d still hoped she had been imagining it.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been working on a secret project. It was meant to be for your birthday- clearly it took me a lot longer than I thought it would…”

“A present?” she asked stupidly.

“Of sorts,” Lucien said cryptically. “More like…setting right a wrong. Vassa’s been helping me, and so has my father. That man truly had contacts everywhere.” He shook his head and chuckled lightly.

Elain smiled at his easy use of the term father, even though she had no idea what he was going on about. It had taken a long time after Beron’s execution for his shadow to finally lift from Lucien’s family, and longer still for him to accept the fact that his former Headmaster was his father.

“Lucien, what in the world are you talking about?”

He chuckled. “Come outside.”

Elain grabbed a blanket from the back of their couch and wrapped it around herself before following him onto their balcony. It overlooked a busy section of Diagon Alley, though the trellises she had put up provided some privacy from the street below. Their flat wasn’t large, but it was cozy. They had chosen it for its location directly above a vacant commercial space, which now housed Elain’s apothecary shop. It wasn’t ideal, but it was convenient for now.

It was a clear night, but the air outside was frigid. Elain’s teeth immediately started chattering. “What are we-”

Her words died in her throat as she spotted what Lucien had wanted to show her. She didn’t believe it at first. A tawny barn owl with large green eyes- and a slightly crooked left leg.

“Crookshanks?!”

The owl squawked in delight and swooped from his perch on top of her trellis to land on her arm. Her throat tightened as her vision became blurry with tears.

“How…where…”

“It took me forever to find him,” Lucien said sheepishly. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise, but I underestimated how hard it would be. Thank god for Vassa, like I said. She made most of the telephone calls- I’ll never get the hang of using one of those…”

Elain laughed through her tears. “I thought…” She shook her head. “Nevermind. I can’t believe you’ve been sneaking around this whole time looking for him.”

She noticed a small velvet pouch tied to his leg, and raised an eyebrow.

Lucien grinned. “Wonder what that could be.”

Elain opened the pouch, and gasped so loud that Crookshanks flew away with an affronted squawk.

Inside the pouch was a ring. It was a simple solitaire, with a thin gold band and the most stunning gem Elain had ever seen. It looked like a diamond at first, but when the silvery moonlight hit it something inside it seemed to glow in shades of yellow and red, as if it held a secret inner fire. Elain cradled it in her palm as Lucien shuffled in front of her, radiating with barely restrained excitement.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice small and breathless.

Lucien gently took the ring from her, and dropped down to one knee.

“Archie. You’re the love of my life. I’ve loved you since you were a snot-faced kid-“ Elain scoffed, and Lucien’s grin widened. “And I’ll continue to love you every day of my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I’m grateful every single day. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

Elain took him in, from that fiery, mismatched gaze to the hopeful tilt of his grin. He looked so boyishly handsome, his nose tinged pink with cold, eyes shining with mischief. She knew every inch of that face as well as her own. He was hers, as surely as she’d ever been his.

“Yes! Yes, Lucien, of course I’ll marry you!”

He slipped the ring on her finger, and then hauled her into his arms. Elain laughed against his lips as he twirled her, his lips pressed to hers in a kiss.

“I have something for you too,” she murmured against his lips, remembering the small parcel waiting on their kitchen table. “Wait here.”

Her heart pounded as she went inside to retrieve the parcel. She hadn’t told him anything about it yet, though Azriel and his team of potioneers had been working on it for years.

Lucien unwrapped the package and looked at the stoppered bottle labeled Wolfsbane curiously. “What is this?”

“It hasn’t officially been approved by St Mungo’s yet, but Azriel says it’s just a formality at this point. It’s gone through testing and it’s perfectly safe-”

“Ok…” Lucien said slowly, turning the bottle sideways to peer at the contents. “But what is it?”

“Sorry,” Elain said sheepishly. “It’s a potion to tamper the effects of lycanthropy. I was so excited when Azriel reached out. It’s not public knowledge yet, not until he gets final approval from the Ministry and St Mungo’s, but-“

Lucien lifted a hand. “What did you say?”

Elain took his hands gently, forcing herself to calm down though she couldn’t tamper the giddy smile on her face. This would change their life- and a lot of other people’s.

“You take a full dose of it every day the week leading up to the full moon, and you’ll transform into a simple, harmless wolf. You can just curl up in bed next to me and keep me warm!”

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. And then closed. And then opened, and closed again.

Elain laughed. “I’m going to make it available at my shop. Azriel said he would brew a supply for me specially, until I get the hang of it. It sounded terribly complicated, and you know how shit I am at potions…” She was rambling, but the look on Lucien’s face was making her nervous. “Say something.”

Lucien was silent for another moment, and then he threw his head back and laughed. Howled, really, until tears streamed down his face.

“I can’t believe Ass-riel is going to win a fucking Order of Merlin for inventing a lycanthropy potion.”

“Lucien! Don’t call him that!”

But he was laughing again, and Elain couldn’t help but join in. She tilted her head back and breathed in the night air, tinged with the sweet scent of honeysuckle growing on her trellises. The moon was glowing overhead, a merry crescent shining silvery-bright. It had been a source of comfort for her as a child, and then had become a thing she’d grown to hate. And then she thought of all the things that had to happen to lead to this moment- the good, the bad, and the truly terrible.

Elain had never believed in any sort of god, and so it was the moon she looked to when she sent up a silent prayer of thanks- for all she had survived, and all it had taught her.

And she could have sworn the moon twinkled in answer.

a/n: I can't believe it's over! A million smooches to everyone who read, reblogged, and commented. Truly your support made writing this story that much more fun.

This was initially meant to be a silly little Elucien at Hogwarts love story, and it somehow turned into a much longer and MUCH more plot-heavy fic than I had originally planned. I had so much fun weaving together bits of lore from both the HP world and ACOTAR. Honestly when I first started this it was just me indulging in two of my favorites universes, and I wasn't sure if there would be much interest, so THANK YOU THANK YOU for going on this journey with me 💕

Taglist: @labellefleur-sauvage @headcanonheadcase @separatist-apologist @velidewrites @c-e-d-dreamer @queercontrarian @hallway5 @areyoudreaminof @tuzna-pesma-snova @corcracrow @vulpes-fennec @octobers-veryown @autumndreaming7 @sunshinebingo @asnowfern

#IT'S OVER😭#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #Ass-riel redemption? who would have thought

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