The Mentor (Eng)

Chapter IV: Fire

The carriage rose majestically, slowly ascending until it merged into the blanket of clouds. Loraine, with a mixture of awe and fear, dug her nails involuntarily into the seat upholstery. Her stomach contracted in a nervous dance as the height enveloped them. George, who had taken the seat opposite them, sensed her growing unease and, in an attempt to distract her, broke the silence.

—For a moment, I thought I would not be in time, —he began, in a cheerful voice, and turned his attention to Eleazar, piqued with curiosity—. Who is your young companion?

Loraine, somewhat calmer, placed her hands demurely in her lap and glanced at her mentor.

—She's just arrived —Fig replied serenely.

George arched his eyebrows, clearly surprised.

—Now? —he asked.

—Yes, sir —Loraine confirmed, nervously.

The thought of it sent a whirlwind of emotions through her; every time it crossed her mind, an emptiness settled in her stomach, a feeling that could well be the result of nerves or perhaps the consequence of having skipped breakfast that morning. Determined to exude confidence, Loraine took a deep breath of air, trying to quell the anxiety that threatened to boil over. The carriage, which had once seemed like a spacious capsule of adventure, now felt like a cramped, suffocating wooden prison.

—How extraordinary! —exclaimed George, with astonishment and recognition, knowing that seventh year was the last year at Hogwarts.

—And so it is —Eleazar pointed out—. None of the faculty had ever seen anyone enter Hogwarts this late....

Loraine scanned the room with an uneasy glance, meeting her mentor's eyes. 'Thank you very much, professor. Now I feel an even heavier burden on my shoulders,' she thought with a mixture of sarcasm and nervousness. Eleazar, sensing the tension in his pupil, continued in a softer tone.

—So the headmaster has asked me to help the new intake catch up before the start of term.

George, with a look that denoted both curiosity and benevolence, returned his eyes to the young woman. His eyes, small but intensely expressive behind the thick lenses, sparkled with an infectious enthusiasm. It was as if he had before him an extraordinary specimen, worthy of the deepest admiration and study.

—Well, you couldn't be in better hands. Professor Fig is not only an exceptional educator; he is also a magician of extraordinary intuition and talent —he proclaimed with a conviction that echoed in every word.

Eleazar, however, played down the praise with a humble wave of his hand.

—Mr. Osric has a natural penchant for flattery, —Eleazar commented, turning to Loraine with a sly smile—. One of the reasons he has risen to such heights within the Ministry.

With an infectious laugh, George broke the silence, and Fig soon joined in the merriment. Loraine, watched the scene with a smile. The conversation soon took a nostalgic turn, and the two began to reminisce about times gone by, times that had vanished with Miriam's departure. It was the first time Loraine had heard of her mentor's late wife.

Though she seemed absorbed in the scenery beyond the window, her weary gaze hid a keen attention to every word George and Eleazar exchanged. Fig had lost his wife three years earlier. The details of her death went unsaid, but the change in her mentor's tone did not go unnoticed.

In a gesture that seemed to contain more than just documents, George solemnly opened the briefcase that always accompanied him. From inside, he pulled out a page from The Prophet newspaper.