85 85: It is done!
Theo returned two weeks before the end of term and after a devastating loss from the Slytherins against Gryffindor. The sky lightened suddenly to a dazzling, opaline white and the muddy grounds were revealed one morning covered in glittering frost. Inside the castle, there was a buzz of Christmas in the air. Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, had already decorated his classroom with shimmering lights that turned out to be real fluttering fairies. The students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays.
Alaric had his last check-up on his hand on the morning of the day of the game against Ravenclaw.
Quidditch, after what Blaise had said, felt more serious than ever. Resigned to the fact that if they lost, Slytherin wouldn't have a chance to win the Cup, Alaric had spent the last few days between applying the finishing touches to the Gremlin's Map and polishing his flying and air tricks. His broom, the modified Fire Bolt, had accumulated some dust, but he managed to shake it off in the first five minutes by pulling a Wronski Feint with only one hand.
He strode briskly through the corridors of Hogwarts, his mind fixed on the upcoming Quidditch match. The Ravenclaw versus Slytherin game was the talk of the school, and Alaric, though he wouldn't admit it, was itching to get back into the field, especially now that Theodore was back.
Reaching the Hospital Wing, he pushed open the door, the bandage off his healed hand begging to be removed. Madam Pomfrey, bustling around one of the beds, looked up at his entrance.
"Ah, Alaric," she greeted him warmly, setting down a potion she was preparing. "Here for your check-up?"
"Actually, Madam Pomfrey," Alaric replied, holding up the bandaged hand. "I think it's time,"
Madam Pomfrey's keen eyes observed his hand, tracing her fingers along the bandages, nodding in approval at the visible signs of healing. "Impressive recovery. Let's have a look, shall we?"
Lysandra wasn't there. Alaric wasn't sure but guessed she was lazing around as a cat in a quiet corner somewhere in the castle. He'd caught her a few times.
Alaric sat on the bed and watched as the matron unwrapped the bandage. The skin underneath was smooth but not unblemished: a large burn scar, tracing from his pinky to his wrist. The rest of the hand was free from any signs of the previous burn.
"Well, you've healed up mostly well. Scarring was inevitable, but it's not permanent" Madam Pomfrey said, her tone a mix of pride and caution. "But I'm afraid I can't clear you for today's match,"
"What?" Alaric's heart sank, his disappointment palpable. "But I have to play this match. If we lose, we're out of the cup,"
"I understand your eagerness, Alaric," she said, sympathetic to his plight. "But as per my judgment and Professor Dumbledore's orders, I cannot allow you to risk aggravating the injury. A further strain could undo the healing process on the sensitive skin, and we can't risk that,"
Alaric's frustration bubbled within him, evident in the crease of his brow and the clenching of his fists. "I feel fine, Madam Pomfrey! It's healed, look!" He twisted his hand and fingers around.
"I have no doubt, dear," she replied, reassuringly touching his shoulder. "But rules are rules. Your health is more important than a single Quidditch match,"
The disappointment hung heavy in the air, and Alaric knew arguing further would be futile. He reluctantly accepted the decision, though the gnawing feeling of missing the match lingered within him.
"I'll make sure to have you ready for the next term," Madam Pomfrey promised with a smile. "Rest up, follow my instructions, and I'll have you back on your broom in no time,"
"Fine," Alaric grumbled.
With a resigned nod, he left the Hospital Wing, thoughts swirling with frustration and a strong desire to ignore her orders. He didn't doubt he still shouldn't overexert his hand. He trusted Pomfrey. But what did his uncle have to do with it?
Albus had barely spoken a word to him and his sister this year, but anytime anything happened with them, he always had something to say. If he wanted to ignore them, headmaster or not, why couldn't he keep his old beard out of their business?
Annoyance oozing out of him, he marched for his common room. No one dared to approach him — not even Cedric, who wanted to wish him good luck — scared witless of the scowl on the blonde's face.
He made his way to the dungeons, not bothering to lift his eyes from his path.
When the silver snake unfurled in the wall and revealed the entrance, Alaric pushed it, rushed down the carpeted stairs and looked around, looking for someone. Theodore and Blaise were sitting near the large vertical windows with a view to the depths of the Black Lake, sporting their match robes.
"Hey, Al!" Theo greeted him with a smile. "What did Pomfrey—" He grimaced when he saw his friend's unbandaged hand.
"I can't play today," Alaric said in a blank voice.
"Shit," Blaise furrowed his brows in thought. "Well, we planned for this. I'll talk to Carrow, can you—?"
"Malfoy? That's where I was going in the first place," Alaric cut him off, already walking away.
"What's he so pissed about?" Theo arched an eyebrow, fastening the last leather strap of his boots. "He never took Quidditch this seriously,"
Blaise watched as Alaric disappeared up the stairs to the boys' dormitory, before sighing and rubbing the back of his head.
"Who knows,"
__________
Alaric sighed after having spoken with Draco. The distant echoes of cheers from the Quidditch match seeped through the castle walls, denying him the luxury of forgetting the game he was missing. Resigned to this fact, he made his way to the workshop, his mind shifting gears from the match to the magical map he wanted to finish today.
With two quick taps on the silver handle, the thick oak door unlocked, and a large orange 'G' faded in and out of existence as fast as one could blink.
"They do have a knack for this type of stuff," Alaric muttered to himself with a chuckle. The initial stood for 'Gremlins', of course, and after the twins and he decided on the name, Fred and George had tried to come up with a signature for the group.
He settled into a chair by his workstation, surrounded by scrolls, textbooks, and boxes upon boxes of joke items. With a swish of his wand, Alaric unrolled the clean, white parchment he placed on the table and scanned it for any mistake he might've missed.
Compared to the Marauder's Map, he'd made the effort of labelling every place in the castle. The school itself was too big to be mapped in a parchment of such size, so, after a simple spell, whoever was using it, by naming the location they wished to spy on, would see the map showing them said location. And after the Homonculus Charm, Alaric would make it work the same way with names.
Before he could continue, he felt something stirring in his shirt pocket.
"Not now, Beatrice," Alaric said when he saw the orange, feathery head peek to say hello.
The bird, chirping angrily, flew out of the pocket anyways, before nestling herself on top of the stack of books.
"There's no need to throw a tantrum, you know?" Alaric said, tired from remembering the work this bird had been giving him these past few days. He wondered if this was how it felt to be a father. "I'll take you outside after I'm finished with this, alright?"
Beatrice ignored him, turning her head away.
"Don't give me that attitude, little miss!" Alaric pointed his finger at her, but still, she ignored him. Seeing as they weren't going anywhere, he groaned. "Whatever,"
After a while, his wand began to dance across the parchment, a precise and long incantation accompanying the delicate wand movements. Alaric focused the spell on the bigger places first, making the black ink glow, gradually revealing the names of the few who weren't in the stadium watching the match. Each flick and twist of his enchanted more and more of the map, and eventually, he reached the stadium, where the names were so concentrated he could only see black.
As he worked, the cheers from the Quidditch match grew louder and louder. He felt the urge to take a peek from the circular window of the workshop, but he couldn't stop the spell midway without the risk of ruining the month's hard work he placed on the map. Still, with the boisterous roar of the Slytherins and the occasional cheer from Ravenclaw, Alaric could paint a very vivid picture of the unfolding match.
His concentration wavered for a moment, his wand hand hesitating mid-gesture. He stopped his eyes on the headmaster's office and watched, silently, as the name of his uncle seemed to walk back and forth near his desk. He did that a lot. Alaric wondered what he was thinking. Probably something along the lines of death-defying Dark Lords and Sherbert Lemons.
Unfortunately, he couldn't dwell on the fact that he missed talking to his uncle much longer, as his wand began to tremble, urging him to focus on his task.
With another sigh, he delved back into the magic, and just like that, a few hours passed.
__________
It was late in the evening when Alaric was finally done.
Only silence remained outside, but at that moment, he couldn't be bothered to leave the room and find out the result of the game. Why? Because floating in front of him was the finished enchanted map that took him so long to make.
"You see this, Beatrice?" He said to the drowsy bird that had forgiven him after some ice cream. "This is a masterpiece. A work of art. A jewel of a crown. A... a Chef-d'oeuvre!"
Beatrice tilted her head, confused about the delirium Alaric was going through.
"The Marauders... they either lacked the talent or the vision," Alaric mumbled as he placed her on the table and showed her the map. "Only when I was mapping out the castle did I realize its true potential. First, I've added extra protective enchantments to prevent unauthorized access or detection of the map's secrets by those not intended to use it. Second, I've added tracking capabilities for specific individuals or items, with optional notification alerts for significant movements or events. Lastly, a feature that enables me to view recent past movements or events. Amazing, right?"
Momentarily forgetting he was speaking to a little girl trapped in a bird's body, Alaric continued on and on with his ramblings about just how awesome the map he made was.
He surveyed the small creature now sitting before him, its tiny and colourful feathers resembling those of the Quidditch robes he had just missed wearing. It snapped him back to reality, making him slump on the chair and thank no one for the fact that he was practically alone. Beatrice wouldn't remember this when she was older, would she?
At least, the map was finished. A triumph in an otherwise disappointing day.
With a sense of accomplishment, Alaric carefully gathered his materials, stowing away the parchment to later show the twins, and gently placed Beatrice back in his pocket. The cheers might have faded, but the quiet pride in a job well done lingered within him. All that was left was to hope Malfoy had done as Alaric had told him, and maybe, just maybe, the day would be considered a success.
**********
I haven't been a moody teenager for a couple of years now (xD), so I can only hope I've expressed correctly what Alaric has been going through the last few chapters.
Also, some of you might be thinking: "Well, the Gremlins thing is only a side-plot". While that may be true for now, it'll be quite important in the future, and I'm sure some of you can guess why.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter! And don't forget to leave comments and reviews!
