Hogwarts Legacy: The Price of Power

Absent Guidance

The morning arrived far swifter than Dracaena expected, and she clambered out of bed with a grumble. Or at least, she tried to, were it not for the sheets that tangled around her feet, sending her to the cool stone floor with a thump.

"Ow," she muttered, picking herself up. With a groan, she went about her morning ablutions and dressed, ambling down the corridor to the boy's dorm and banging on the door.

"Go 'way!" came the muffled response. "Sleeping!"

"It's time for breakfast," she called back.

There was a stumble of movement, and Sebastian appeared, almost grey with exhaustion.

"We've both got a free period this morning," he said, around a yawn. "We'll grab something from the kitchens later."

Dracaena raised a brow. "You sure?"

"Yep," he yawned again, rumpling his already messy hair. "See you... lunch, probably."

Dracaena rolled her eyes and made her way upstairs, electing to sit with a group of sixth years instead of Imelda, who was proudly showing off her signed poster of the Montrose Magpies Quidditch team. She glanced up at the ceiling, showing a slightly cloudy sky, as she ladled porridge into her bowl, wondering if she'd have any post this morning as the owls began to descend. But of course, there was nothing. She'd have to go to the post office in Hogsmeade if she wanted to send Gran a letter, as they had ways of ensuring it would be delivered by muggle post.

She sighed, prodding at her breakfast. This morning's class was her first Magical Theory, and she had no idea what to expect. It had been Professor Fig's class, before he died. She'd wanted to learn under him, not whoever it was that taught them now. But he was gone. At least, perhaps, in some small way, she would feel connected to her old mentor through his subject.

Leaving her breakfast unfinished, Dracaena rose and made her way through the castle to Fig's old classroom. Standing outside, she felt a strange dissonance, as if all she had to do was walk through the door, past the desks, and up the short flight of steps, passing his Dark Detector and into his office, and there he'd be, smirking as he handed her a Polyjuice Potion, or congratulating her on her initiative. Whispering together excitedly about their mission, as if they were both students. Friends. Equals.

As if nothing had changed. As if he hadn't died.

The bell rang, and she shouldered her way inside, hoping, praying that the end of her fifth year had been some kind of mistake, some kind of mind-altering potion or spell, and that it would be Eleazar Fig that greeted her with his traditional soft smile, his warm, gentle burr of a voice welcoming her to his class, the faint, familiar scent of old parchment and mystery clinging to him, as comforting to her as home had ever been.

But it was a tall, thin wizard that looked up from behind the desk, a man somewhere in the middle of his forties, his reddish hair long and pulled back in a ponytail. He smiled, showing slightly gapped teeth, surrounded by classroom items that had never belonged to Fig.

"Ah, an eager student! What a pleasant surprise. I'm Professor Reid. You are?"

She smothered her despair as best she could.

"Dracaena, Professor. Dracaena Hoctina."

"Ah... Miss Hoctina... you wouldn't happen to be the Dracaena Hoctina who was apprenticed to my predecessor?" he asked, kindly.

"I am," she said, dropping her bag on a desk near the front. "I want to take his class."

Professor Reid's smile was understanding. "I shall do my best to honour his memory in my teachings," he said. He looked up as the door opened again, and the rest of the class filtered in. "Good morning! Have a seat, and we shall begin."