Unspeakables; Rule One

Chapter Six: Even Dragons Have Their Endings

Notes:

*SPOILERS for Hogwart's Legacy are included in this chapter, please read at your own discretion.*

Everything was fast and yet so painfully slow, which meant 1892 sucked so far. A month of staying at the Leaky Cauldron had flown by, and word had gotten out very quickly among its patrons that an Auclair was living above the pub. Every morning, she would wake up, meet with Professor Fig, and practice spells she had already mastered as a child. He would also have Celeste brush up on her Magical Theory, as this was the class he taught at Hogwarts. It felt silly when they would go over the incantations and wand patterns, but it was necessary if she was to keep up with the charade.

Fig threw comments here and there about how quickly Celeste picked up the spells, but he never asked anything that would've forced her to lie to him. It was like he understood there was something deeper hanging in the balance. He didn't know how she received her wand already, but he did know that the Auclairs were rich, and it only made sense that a child of the family would have a wand that finished with an amethyst wrapped in a gold cord. It was easier for him and Celeste to pretend everything was on the Auclairs.

In this timeline, the entire Auclair family moved around a lot as they continued to grow their fortune.

Celeste read about her current relatives in the Prophète Quotidien. The Auclairs were known for throwing elaborate parties full of guests and entertainment. Then, they would uproot themselves and move somewhere else for a while before returning to their French home. Mireille Auclair, the woman who would eventually join the Fawley family, was a mere young lady at 17- currently studying at Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Wizarding Europe was fascinated with the Auclairs. Everyone had a vague idea about their various business dealings, but no one actually knew what they did.

Due to this, every journalist and writer for the Daily Prophet would scope out the Leaky Cauldron in hopes of finding Celeste to receive a quote.

"Now the Ministry says you are an Auclair, but who are your parents?"

"Were you a squib? Is that why your family has kept you hidden?"

It was always at the end of the day after she spent her time with Fig and after she ate, that the journalists would flock around her. Celeste would sit there in the Leaky Cauldron, silent and wondering, with her glass of whiskey. It wouldn't take long before the Auclairs found out she was here, and they would think she was just using their name. They would be curious, and she only hoped the Ministry would be as good at stopping the French reporters as they were their own. It was fascinating how every article the wizards and witches expected to read about Celeste never came out. She knew that was usual. If an Unspeakable were caught with photos and stories written about them, the Department of Mysteries would wipe them clean to avoid any timeline discrepancies.

Most importantly, she spent every night alone in bed, the stone of ancient magic pressed to her heart, as she practiced traveling the raw energy through her palms, mimicking its power and beauty.

She set out to not think of Teddy during the day, but she usually failed that task at night.

Finally, the day came, almost a month after her arrival, when Celeste received her letter from Hogwarts.

She read it twice before giving Professor Fig a big, bright, cheesy smile. It was genuine; she had been so bored this month, and she couldn't stop the excitement bubbling inside of her.

Professor Fig grinned with pride. He was a kind wizard, so incredibly kind and guiding that he made her miss her father.

And here she was in the early hours of the morning, her least favorite hours, standing in front of the carriage that was to take her to Hogwarts. She could hear rats scuttling along the sleeping streets and smell the scent of fresh bread baked by an early riser. The professor had just finished securing her last trunk of belongings before making his way toward her. "Ah! It appears we are almost ready to depart."