Song- California Dreamin: The Mamas & The Papas
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Professor Rookwood; a stern man, a kind man, a smart man, a familiar man. The way he twirled his wand to transfigure the small objects before us into something entirely new was something I had seen before, something I found myself doubting and questioning. How my wild mind liked to trick me with dreams of twists of blue and silver, how it liked to sneak up on me with images of four noble wizards standing before a crippled town. But it wasn't a trick, it wasn't a mind game.
I recognise you all, I know you, I know what I saw.
The other students rushed to file out as the time ticked just a second past what it should've, the Transfigurafion classroom becoming stale with the emptiness. Only I remained, brimming with an eagerness and a newfound confidence to put my suspicions at ease. Magic was power, and power was strength.
"Miss Morganach, is there something I can help you with?" Professor Rookwood's voice was low in a grumble as he pottered about his classroom to gather the various pots, quills and marbles that we had managed to configure into a diverse variety of materials. I saw a flicker of occasional concern in the professor's face, seemingly only burdening him where I was concerned.
"Professor, I would like to explain something," I began, searching desperately for the words to divulge into my perspective on what I knew they had done for Feldcroft. I remained seated, fixed to my desk, the ability to move being held hostage by the intense urge to make sense of what I had seen.
Professor Rookwood raised his eyebrows, gently nodding his head momentarily as that same sense of confusion about me crept into his mind. Seeing these professors was like looking at a photograph of something that vaguely fits in; you don't know if you're remembering the event or remembering the last time you thought about it. Memories can change, after all, you're truly only remembering the last time you remembered it.
"When I was a child, there was a, well, something I'm not entirely sure even happened," the audible gulp in the professor's throat almost blurted I know what you're talking about before he even said a word. There was a cloud over his mind, one that was almost scared of my question.
"I-I saw these beautiful swirls of magic in my village one day, and there were these people who created it. It was magnificent. It cured our drought, it saved a lot of people. Is such magic possible to create?"
Professor Rookwood's eyes lit, memories of blue in his pupils as he thought back to the memory I reminded him of. He scrunched a few lips of paper in his palms, huffing almost reminiscent air out of his lungs.
"Yes, it is possible. It's a complicated, confusing, rare,
kind of magic, one that should be wielded with great care and intent," The professor spoke as though this was something I was capable of, and his words resonated with all the times I had seen differently, felt strangely, even heard echoing whispers of magic around me. I had spent too long at Hogwarts, months wasted simply allowing the ordinary to become my reality when I was the black sheep amongst the white.
"Miss Morganach, I understand that Headmistress Fitzgerald has requested your presence in her office later this afternoon. I strongly suggest that you keep your questions for then." Professor Rookwood's usher to the door was one of urgency, as if he couldn't quite make sense of his actions and had to do the only thing he knew how, simply ignore the problem. As I exited the classroom, I could feel the burn to understand more, to be the master of my own magic and mind. Nobody could take away what was rightfully my knowledge and bury it as just a forgotten memory.
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The Keepers' Evil
Fanfiction"That's where Sebastian's guilt met my guilt and, oh, what a dangerous form of amortentia it was." Ranrok was killed, Rookwood was dead, and the repository was opened. Madeleine had done her part, she had done everything asked of her. But whilst Mad...
