Magic Theory

The Raven like the Writing Desk

Matthew sat in a classroom full of confused students. People were looking around, some were chatting, and a few had gotten up and walked out. He did not blame them. It was April, and the air outside was finally warming up.
While his classmates were curious or just completely disinterested, Matthew was feeling a rising panic. They were a half hour into their scheduled class time, but Azalea had yet to show up. He tried to talk to Austin, but he kept looking at her door. "So, Lark and I were talking, and, I don't know man. Maybe you could talk to Steph sometime. See what Lark is really thinking about me." Matthew nodded absently. "Great, thanks man."
Someone knocked on the door. The room went silent as the class stared at the door. A few moments later, there was another knock. Everybody continued to stare. Finally, the door opened. Professor Delarca walked in and looked around at the class. "Where is Professor Cavaille?" he was met with blank stares and a few shrugs. He sighed. "Of course. Come on. I can't leave you all unattended." Professor Delarca had the students gather their things and follow him to his classroom.
As they walked passed the entrance hall, Matthew was distracted. He was sure he had heard a knock on the large doors. He grabbed Austin's wrist and they fell behind the group. "What-?" Austin started.
"I thought I heard something," Matthew responded. He was right. Again, he heard a muffled knock on the thick door. More of the group stopped. The class started to look at each other. Professor Delarca, noticing the class had not continued following him, walked back to the entrance hall saying, "What is going on?"
The knocking was now constant, impatient. Professor Delarca raised an eyebrow and walked towards the door. As he was about to reach it, however, it burst open. He jumped back, quite shocked at the sudden noise of the heavy doors banging against the walls.
Two men walked into the hall, both dressed in black and looking smug. "Excuse me," the Professor exclaimed. The men paused and regarded him as if he was merely a bug standing in front of them.
"You a teacher here, yeah?" The taller of the pair said. His partner shot a gnarly smile at the group of students watching, many of whom cowered under his stare.
"I am Professor Luiz Delarca, and who might you be?" Although he appeared calm, Matthew noticed Professor Delarca slip his hand into the side of his robes and extract his wand.
"We're here to talk to one of your little friends. She's got a bounty on her head."
"I'm sure I don't know who you're talking about."
Professors and students began to trickle out of the hall to investigate the noise. People started whispering. A few students had run off to grab their friends. Ilvermorny seldom got visitors.
"I'm sure you do," the taller man said, "and you don't want to lie to us."
"What's going on?" A girl said beside Matthew. It was Stephanie, looking confused and worried. Courtney came up behind her.
"I think they're here for Professor Cavaille," Matthew tried to say as quietly as possible. Obviously there was a reason Professor Delarca would not admit she was ever there.
Professor Ginreedy appeared and made his way beside Professor Delarca. "Gentleman, we're going to have to ask you politely to leave. You've disrupted our classes as it is."
"We don't want ta be in your filthy school anymore than you want us here. Just give us the traitor and we'll go."
"Filthy," Matthew scoffed without thinking. The man insulting Ilvermorny was greasy. His partner, meanwhile, looked as if he had not bathed in weeks, nor brushed his teeth.
"Aye, lad's got it. Stench of mud bloods everywhere. Maybe he'd like to join us, eh?" Said the shorter man. He laughed and elbowed his companion. "The Dark Lord would probably be pleased to have some young ones in America."
"We're not here to recruit," the tall man sneered. "Yet." His slippery gaze shifted from Matthew and onto Courtney and Stephanie. Matthew felt Stephanie move beside him, uncomfortable under the man's stare. Matthew gently put his hand on the small of her back. "Looks like this one's a mudblood lover though."
"Excuse me." The students turned to see their Headmistress descending the stairs into the Entrance Hall. Today, she had traded in her usual gray bob for golden waves. She planned to lure the men into a false sense of security. "My students are not your subjects for recruitment." Her robes swept behind her as she walked through the path the crowd made for her. She gripped her wand in both hands in front of her, her muscles flexing. "Would you mind identifying yourselves? It will make this much easier."
"You'll excuse us, ma'am? In our mission, we forgot our manners. My name is Lestrange," the taller of the pair said.
"I'm Rowle," sneered the other. "Now, ma'am, would you tell us what we need to know? You know where she is."
"You can address me as Professor Mekalda," the Headmistress said in a warning tone. Matthew did not know her voice could get any deeper. "Who is it you are looking for?"
"Don't toy with us, lady," Rowle growled. "We know she works here. Hand us the mud blood Cavaille and we'll get out of your hair."
"You have crossed very far over the thin line of patience I already had for you. Remember, you are not in your jurisdiction. This is my school, and you will respect me, my employees, and my students." The man tried not to quail under the Headmistress's gaze, but not even a Death Eater could brave such a thing. "For your information, Azalea Cavaille resigned over twelve hours ago, and I have not seen or heard from her since. I do not know where she went, nor what her intentions are."
"I'm sorry if my colleague here offended you," the Lestrange man said. "We did not mean any harm. We are simply trying to execute this warrant we have for Miss Cavaille's arrest."
Professor Mekalda's muscles rippled as she let out a deep breath and ground her jaw. "May I see this warrant?" The man produced a paper from his robes and handed it to her. Her cheeks shone gold as her eyes traced the paper. "Well," she finally sighed, "I can assure you, as it's obviously a matter of international security, if I see any sign of Azalea Cavaille, I will report it to the Congress and they will reach out to you. I will inform all other occupants of Ilvermorny to do the same. Now, as you have already interrupted enough of my students' education as it is, I implore you, gentleman, to leave the grounds of Ilvermorny. And tell your Dark Lord that if he sends anymore of you here, he will have an international war to fight on top of the civil war he has already started."
Rowle marched towards her, unable to contain himself, his face contorted. He drew his wand. "You dare speak about the Lord that way, you filthy blood traitor whore? You—"
Professor Mekalda's hand shot up and wrapped around his neck. "You don't know who I am, do you? I am Aldenzia Mekalda. Beater for the American National Quidditch team from 1980 until 1986. I can crush you, and I would not even need a spell to do so." The other man had extracted his wand now. Professor Mekalda pushed Rowle away, cause him to fall back onto his backside. The Headmistress pointed her wand at Lestrange. The students would have cheered if they were not watching with bated breath. Professors Delarca and Ginreedy had their wands pulled as well, and stood defensively in front of their students.
Realizing they were outnumbered, the tall man pulled his cohort up, and raised up both hands in defense. "I apologize for the trouble we've caused," he said smarmily. Matthew could hear sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "We'll go now." With that he turned and walked out. After a moment of glaring, his partner followed him out of the castle.
The Headmistress shut the doors and cast a spell over them. She quickly walked back to Ginreedy and Delarca. "Classes are cancelled for the rest of today. I want everyone in the Dining Hall in 30 minutes. There are–" As there was a collective gasp from the crowd, Professor Mekalda turned to face the glowing, silver crow that materialised behind her. She knelt down and the bird flew into her open palm.
It opened its beak and everyone heard Azalea's voice. "This is not the end. Strengthen your protections. Do not let the others in." The light faded and the bird disappeared. Professor Mekalda made a fist and, after a moment, turned to her employees again.
"Get everyone to the Dining Hall, and strengthen the protective enchantments around the entrances. You have thirty minutes. Go." She tore through the crowd and back up the stairs.
"You heard the Headmistress. All of you, go to the Dining Hall. Any representatives here?" A few students pushed their way forward. "Alright, two of you will make sure everyone here gets to the Dining Hall. You're responsible for them. The rest will make sure to alert the other classes as to what they need to do. Then make your way to the Dining hall."
Instantly, they were being shuffled towards the Dining Hall. Matthew grabbed onto the back of Stephanie's robes and reached out for Courtney's hand. "What did we miss?" Stephanie whispered. Austin was already in the process of filling Courtney in.
"Azalea didn't show up to class so Professor Delarca was bringing us to his classroom but then they broke in. Are you okay?"
Stephanie felt taken aback. "Yes. Why?"
"I just didn't like the way they looked at you. They were... They're disgusting."
"What do you think they meant by mudblood? Why did they call you a mudblood lover?" Stephanie looked at Matthew as he pushed his glasses up.
"I don't know," he lied as they walked into the Dining Hall. He went to turn to Courtney only to find that she and Austin had been separated from them. Stephanie grabbed Matthew's hand and they walked to the Thunderbird table.
It took a while, but soon the stream of students filing in thinned out. Then the teachers joined them. Finally, Professor Mekalda made her way in and took her place at the center of the room.
"It looks like everyone is here. Many of you may be wondering why. Not many of you keep up with international politics. Well, I suggest you start paying attention. Europe, specifically the U.K., is in distress.
"Many of you have heard of Gellert Grindlewald and the havoc he reaped upon our world. There is another who seeks to do so. Up until now, he and his followers have concentrated solely upon England. One of our faculty was taught, grew up in, and made a life in England. She is now a target. There is a warrant for her arrest from the British Ministry of Magic. To keep you all safe, she has resigned and fled. None of you are to go looking for, or try to contact Azalea Cavaille," she said sternly. A hand shot up at the Horned Serpent table. Professor Mekalda turned towards the person. "Yes?"
"What do they want with Professor Cavaille?" The student asked. A whisper of agreement spread through the crowd.
Professor Mekalda took a deep breath. Her nostrils flared. "In England, the focus right now is on blood status. NoMaj-borns versus what they call 'Purebloods.' You can probably guess what a Pureblood is. They have no NoMajs in their ancestry, at least none that they know of or will admit to. They consider themselves to only have magical genetics, and therefore better than anyone with a NoMaj in their family. Many, but not all, are in league with a group called the Death Eaters. They are led by a man whose name will not be spoken, as there are enchantments on it. Saying his name at this time lowers all protections put in place and summons his followers. Now, many of you here have NoMaj ancestry, especially if you do not have Native blood. Not many witches and wizards came over from Europe. If the war were to come here, many of us would be in danger. That is why we will not let that happen."
Another hand shot up. It was Courtney. She was sitting next to Lark and Austin. "What's a mudblood?" She asked.
The headmistress clenched her jaw. "It's an insult. It's a foul name that I never want to hear any of you say. Any whisper of the word will send you straight to detention." She gripped her wand and tried to calm herself. "It means dirty blood. That's what they call anyone of NoMaj descent. They do not consider us as equals. A mudblood is equivalent to being nothing but a cockroach."
Stephanie's shoulders slacked beside Matthew. She had much more recent NoMaj ties. Now she understood what they meant, and why they were staring at her. Matthew reached out and gently rubbed her back. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered.
"That's easy for you to say. Your parents, grandparents, maybe even your great-grandparents are fully magic, aren't they?" She looked at him as she began to nervously wrap her hair around her finger. Matthew licked his lips, but did not respond. Stephanie fixed her bangs and sighed. She was not the only one feeling worried by this. Many students were needing to be consoled by their classmates.
"I know that this is scary, but we cannot show them we are afraid. You are protected here. You are safe. We will do everything in our power to keep things that way. Now, I want you all to go back to your dorms. Classes are cancelled for the rest of the day. The faculty and I have things that need to be discussed. All students are dismissed."
The rest of the day consisted of students of longer magical histories try to comfort those who did not. As the days passed, things began to return to a more cautious normal. When spring break came around, many of the students elected to stay at Ilvermorny. They felt safer there. By the time the holiday ended, the school had managed to hire a substitute to take Azalea's place. Professor Jackson was not as experienced as Azalea was with defensive magic, but he had theoretical knowledge. The class became more about text books and essays rather than practice. With exams approaching, even Matthew felt as though he needed a break.
He was walking back to his dorm one evening after a long study session with Stephanie, Courtney, and Austin. As he made his way down the long hall, he heard hushed voices. Matthew paused. A girl was crying. "I don't want you to go."
"I know, but I'll come back," a boy murmured soothingly. Matthew saw their silhouettes. A smaller figure with its back against the wall, and a taller figure leaning close in front of it.
"You don't know that!"
"Maybe I don't, but she does."
"She told you not to go either! How do you know she hasn't seen another possibility? One where you... don't– don't come–" Her voice broke.
"Hey, baby, come here." In the dim light, the two figures melted together in a hug. "It's going to be okay. I'll be back within a week. I'll write you an owl. I'll meet you at the bus depot."
"You don't have to do this. This isn't our fight."
"I want to keep it that way. I don't want you to be scared anymore. I know you said you're okay but I can tell you aren't."
Matthew started to walk forward again. When they heard his footsteps, the couple turned to see who he was. He looked up, pretending he had not heard anything. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"No," Gen said. She quickly wiped her cheeks in an attempt to compose herself, but her normally perfect eyeliner was smudged. "No, we were just saying goodnight. I'll see you in the morning?" She looked back at Jason who nodded. She rose up on her toes and kissed him. Matthew turned away blushing. As Gen passed Matthew she put her hand in his shoulder and said, "Goodnight."
"Night, Gen." The two boys watched her walk away. When Matthew turned back to Jason, the older boy rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a sigh. "Everything good?" Matthew asked.
"With me and Gen?" Jason asked as he pivoted and started heading to the Common Room. "Yeah. Just me... not really."
"What's going on?" Jason tapped on the wall and they made their way to a secluded section of the Common Room.
"I'm leaving. I'm a seventh year. As long as I've finished my exams, and I have, I'm free to go."
Matthew, taken aback, asked, "When are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow night. I'm... I'm going to Scotland, to a town called Hogsmeade. I'm going to get a room there. It's right next to Hogwarts. Azalea said that's where the battle that ends it all is."
"Why are you going? Why there?"
"I'm going to fight," Jason said leaning back and folding his arms.
"Jason, you're 18. You could be killed." Matthew felt panic for his friend rising in his throat.
"And if things go wrong and the Death Eaters win? So could everyone else here. They're already coming to America. I want to fight that." He had already made up his mind. Matthew knew there was nothing he could do to change it.
"Well... Good luck, Jason. Get home safely."
Jason nodded and smiled grimly. "I'll do my best. Night, Matthew." Without another word he got up and went to his dorm. Matthew sat for a moment, feeling the hollowness in his chest. He forced himself to stand and go to his own room.
He did not sleep well. In the morning, Matthew saw that Jason was not eating at the Horned Serpent table, but rather, was at the Pukwudgie table with Gen. They sat close together, foregoing touching their breakfast. Matthew looked away and tried to start eating.
"Good morning," Stephanie said as she scooted next to Matthew. He mumbled back. "Are you okay?" She observed him with genuine concern. "You look ill."
"I'm fine," he replied, "I just didn't sleep well."
"Oh, I'm sorry." She pulled a quiche closer to her. "Um, hey, I get if you don't want to, but do you think you can help me with charms after dinner? I'm really nervous for my exam and it's sort of like your forte."
Matthew turned to see her twisting her hair as she did whenever she was nervous. "Yeah, of course. I don't mind."
"Thank you," she uttered quietly as she started on her breakfast. Courtney joined them and started telling some long story which made it easy for Matthew to hold his tongue about what was on his mind. This did not go unnoticed by Stephanie. She said nothing.
Matthew stepped forward into the night. It was calm; a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. In the dark, he could make out a figure in front of him. As he stepped closer, Matthew found himself growing more at ease. Whoever they were, he had the urge that he could trust them.
The figure was shorter than he was by a couple of inches, and he could tell it was female. The wind pushed at her orange hair and robes. She stood at the edge of a forest and faced a black lake which Matthew only knew was there from the moon's reflection. Everything around them was silent. He stopped beside her.
The girl opened her eyes and looked at him in surprise. "Wha-... what are you doing here, Matthew?" Her voice was familiar, and she had a distinct English accent. He knew someone from England...
"You know me?" He asked her.
"Of course." In the light of the moon and an amber glow from a fire in the distance behind him, he watched her brow furrow. Matthew decided she must be around his age. Maybe thirteen or fourteen. She was wearing what looked like a school uniform, but not Ilvermorny's. Her robes were black with a red and gold crest emblazoned over her heart. She wore a matching red and gold tie around her neck, and a pair of square glasses with thick black frames, a lot like Matthew's, on her face. "You know me," she said. He knew he did. He just did not know how. Not until he looked in her hand and noticed her wand.
"Professor?" Azalea's lips curved as she took in his expression. "You look... different. Younger." He looked her up and down again. She was wearing a pair of chucks, which explained why she was shorter than him. She always wore heels while she worked. Her shape was different; her weight was not distributed the same as he how he knew her.
"What, like ten?" She asked. Again, her accent was strong. At school, Azalea sounded different when compared to others but she still sounded vaguely American. Here, she sounded as if she had been raised in London. Like a character from a movie Courtney had made him watch over the summer.
"No. You look thirteen. You look my age."
She frowned at him and said, "I am thirteen." Azalea looked confused for a moment before looking passed Matthew and then behind her, into the forest. "You shouldn't be here. You should go."
"What? No." He did not know why, but he had the strong feeling that he had to stay with her. Matthew had to protect her. She was vulnerable like this.
Azalea bit her lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Well, come on then." She grabbed his hand and began to walk in the direction behind him.
"Where are we?" He asked her. She began to swing their hands as she laced her fingers through his.
"This is your dream. How should I know?" She turned to look at him. He looked up as they approached the structure of a crumbling castle. Fires burned inside which explained the warm glow splitting the darkness.
"So I'm dreaming; I'm asleep," he said, unsure. The ground beneath him felt too real, the breeze felt too real, Azalea's hand in his felt too real.
"How should I know?" She repeated. "If you're dreaming, then it's your job to know."
"You're being kind of annoying," he said. Why would she not give him a straight answer?
She shrugged. "When I was little," she told him, "I could see the future. Not very far, but I could see things. I don't remember that though. I only know because my mum likes to tell stories about how I would babble about something like burnt spaghetti and then my brother would distract her while she was making dinner, and wouldn't you know, she burnt the spaghetti. Or one time I told her that her mother was coming over and about an hour later my grandmother showed up to surprise my mum. My first memory of magic is a little more dramatic.
"When I was four, we were driving. I was raised by muggles, well NoMajs, you know. Do you know what a car is?" He nodded. "Well, we were going for a drive. I don't remember where we were going. Anyway, I had dropped my favorite toy, Daleina, and had somehow managed to undo my seatbelt despite the fact that it was supposed to be child proof. We were stopped so I thought I would be fine. Wouldn't you know, of course, that right then another car hits us. I flew forward, passed both of my parents. I broke through the windshield. It all happened very fast. But I can remember my mum coming screaming out of the car and I just looked at her. Eye to eye. I was floating about 5 feet off the ground, clutching Daleina. I only had a few scratches from the glass, and even after a few minutes, I had healed them. That's how I figured out I was a witch." She continued to swing their hands as they stepped into the rubble of what used to be an entrance hall.
Fires were burning on either side of them. Now that he could properly see her, he realized he really was holding the hand of a thirteen year old Azalea Cavaille. Her eyes were a dead giveaway, behind the glare on her thick glasses. Like the Frog Pond, only now the fire-light exposed flecks of gold buried in them, too. Your hands are sweaty," she noted.
"Sorry," he murmured, slipping his hand from her's and wiping it on his cloak.
Azalea grabbed it back saying, "I don't mind." She started to lead him onward, further into the castle. Staircases above them made loud groans as they moved. Matthew watched in awe. Most of them were damaged. Large chunks of the walls were missing. Windows were shattered. Azalea and Matthew were walking on the rubble, broken glass, and what he was sure was blood smeared on the floor.
"Where are we going?"
"To spy on someone." She turned to smile at him. He felt a pang in his stomach and reached for her.
"You're bleeding," he said. Matthew touched the corner of her mouth where blood had begun to drip.
Azalea reached up and wiped her mouth on her wrist. "It's not that bad. I'm fine." Matthew didn't mention it again despite the steady trickle of blood running down to her chin. She led him to a set of spiral stairs and into a tower. There was an open door from which silver light spilled. They stepped inside. A boy with long dark hair and circular glasses sat on the floor of what looked like an office. He must have been about Jason's age. Matthew could not see his eyes. The air around them felt heavy. The boy stood.
Azalea ran her thumb over Matthew's knuckles. "You really should leave now," she told him. She loosened her grip on Matthew's hand.
"I don't want to leave you," he affirmed, not letting her go. She looked back at the boy and they followed him out of the room. They followed him back the way they came. He was leaving the castle. Matthew felt that this was very wrong. The castle, despite its damaged status, felt like the safest place to be. As they neared the exit, the boy stopped and looked around before he began to talk to himself.
"Like I said, I've always been able to see the future," Azalea whispered to Matthew. "When I was young, my sight wasn't very far. I could see a few hours in advance, maybe a day. As I got older, I could see farther. I saw this happening. I know what has to happen. It's not easy to talk to someone you know is supposed to die." Matthew looked at his companion in shock. She was staring sadly at the boy. "It's not easy knowing information you're not supposed to know. I knew from a very young age that I was adopted, but I couldn't say anything until I was 12 and it was confirmed to me. I didn't want to upset my parents. They deserved the opportunity to come clean to me. Who was I to take that from them? Who was I to take this boy's life before it had to end?"
Matthew said nothing and they started to walk with the boy again. They made their way back into the entrance hall and something seemed to catch both the boy and Azalea's eye. Azalea slipped her hand from Matthew's and caught up with the boy. "Talk to her. Merlin's beard, don't leave her like that. You can't just leave her like this! Potter!" Azalea's voice climbed until she was screaming at the boy. "You can't leave her without a goodbye! Kiss her! Something!" But the boy could not hear her. He just kept walking towards the forest. Azalea stopped at the large door and watched the boy disappear in the darkness. "Harry!" She screamed. Matthew looked at her as he came to her side. Tears and blood mingled and trickled down her face. She had a new gash on her forehead that Matthew knew had not been there a moment before.
"Professor, you're really bleeding now." He tried to wipe her face but she swatted him away.
"How? How could he just leave her without a goodbye? No one will know. Not until-"
"Who?" Matthew asked.
"Her," she gestured, but they were alone. Matthew stared back at her. "You can't see her?"
"There's no one there."
"Oh. Oh." Azalea looked away and wiped her cheek. "You don't belong here," she whispered. Matthew took a step towards her. She tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I'm exhausted." They stood there for a moment before Azalea moved away. She took Matthew's hand again and led him into the cavernous room off to the side. It was filled with people. Some of them looked to be Matthew's age, others to be much older. Many of them were crying, or just laying down.
"This is Hogwarts, isn't it? That was Harry Potter." This room didn't have a ceiling. It was not unlike the Dining Hall at Ilvermorny except it had no ceiling.
"It's just a charm," Azalea told him. "It's there. Or at least, it was. After all that's happened tonight, it's hard to tell. If this is Hogwarts, this would be the Great Hall." The sky above them was full of stars. They seemed to rage. Matthew stopped looking at the ceiling. When he looked at it, he felt like he would be crushed by the weight of pain this room held. Azalea lowered herself to the ground and Matthew sat beside her. His hands were starting to shake. Something felt very wrong. He did not belong here.
"I should go now," he said.
"No, wait, please," Azalea begged. She wrapped an arm around his. "Just... just stay for a little while longer. Just hold my hand." She put her forehead on his shoulder. He heard the need in her voice; she was desperate. Matthew nodded.
Azalea laid down and looked up at the stars. Matthew did not follow her lead. Instead, he held her hand and looked at the jewels littering the ground. He moved his thumb over her hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Azalea sighed deeply. "Is this," Matthew queried, "going to come to America? Is You-Know-Who going to win?" He got no reply. "Professor?" He turned to look at her. "Azalea!"
Azalea's eyes were closed. Her face had gone from her usual pale to stark white. Her chest was not moving up and down. The blood that was dripping down her face was becoming dark and congealed. Matthew let go of her hand and slipped his arm under her shoulders. Nobody else even glanced their way. Nobody seemed to notice or care. "Azalea, please," he begged as he lifted her up. Her jaw dropped open and to Matthew's horror, a thick, ink-like substance began to pour from her mouth. Clots of it dripped down her chin and neck or fell straight into her lap. "Professor!"
Her eyes shot open, but her eyeballs had been replaced with the same substance from her mouth. It splattered onto her glasses and started to pour down her cheeks like tears. Matthew grabbed the glasses and threw them as hard as he could. She made a rasping noise, like she was trying to breathe but her throat was full.
Suddenly, like a drum, a loud bang rippled throughout the room. Azalea screamed for Harry once more, but it did not sound like her voice this time. Matthew was knocked backwards. He hit his head on the ground.
Matthew grabbed his wand and jumped up as he caught his breath. He was not in the Great Hall anymore. Azalea was nowhere to be seen. Matthew was at Ilvermorny. He was in one of the study rooms in the library, and he was drenched in sweat. Matthew hurriedly packed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. He threw open the door only to come face to face with Stephanie. She was just getting ready to knock on the door. Before she could say anything, Matthew grabbed her by the wrist and began to run to the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom.
Since Azalea was gone, they had been using a different, normally vacant classroom for lessons. Professor Jackson had wanted a classroom near the entrance since he was staying in the nearby town. They did not have to worry about disturbing anyone. When they reached the room, they found the door was locked. Stephanie, breathless, asked, "Will you tell me what's going on?"
Matthew ignored her and started trying to do a charm to unlock the door. They heard a click and he pushed the door open. Running behind the desk, Matthew pulled aside the tapestry. The door behind it was locked and no matter what charms he tried, it would not budge.
"She probably left some security measures on it," Stephanie said. "Try a password, something that's important to her."
"Harry," he blurted, remembering the last thing she screamed. "Potter, Albus, Hogwarts, Gryffindor, Daleina, goodbye!" They heard a click and the door swung open.
"Goodbye?" Stephanie mused as they rushed into her living space. "Why goodbye?"
"Because she left without saying it. She felt guilty. This is her telling us goodbye." Matthew knew it. Azalea was not mad at Harry because he kept walking to the forest, to his death, with no goodbye. She was mad because that's exactly what she had done.
The room was exactly as it had always been. Besides a layer of dust, everything was the same. Moonlight streamed in through the window. Matthew pointed his wand at the bookshelf and muttered, "Alohamora." A section of the bookshelf opened and they walked into her room. Stephanie cleared her throat as the floor was covered in dirty clothes. Matthew did not care about the bras on the floor. He looked up at the ceiling. It looked like the outside sky. The moon was sparsely covered by clouds. Though this sky did not seem as violent as the one in his dream, Matthew's breath quickened. He fell onto the bed and watched the clouds move across the sky. "Matthew?" Stephanie sat beside him and put her hand on his arm. He sat up, ruffling his hair. "Tell me what's happening."
He looked at her and nodded. Matthew told her what he had seen. He had not even known he was asleep and he was still unconvinced that he was. They did not discuss Azalea's fate. Stephanie did not tell him it was all in his head. Stephanie put her arm around Matthew's shoulders and he leaned into her. Together, they sat in silence on the edge of their professor's bed. Before they left an hour later, they agreed not to tell anyone about what Matthew saw. Matthew walked Stephanie to her house. When they got there, Stephanie squeezed his arm. "I'm sure she's going to be fine." Matthew nodded. There was nothing they could do.
They rode out the rest of the school year without a word of Azalea. Matthew scoured The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler whenever he got his hands on one, but he never saw her mentioned in either. Not even when The Quibbler printed only a memorial with the names of every person who perished while fighting against Voldemort. Azalea had not returned by the end of June. Matthew and Stephanie swore to write the other if Azalea contacted either one of them. They acted normally, if not a little distracted, on the bus with Austin, Lark, and Courtney. They played exploding snap until they reached the depot, where they said their goodbyes.
"Hey," Courtney said before they parted ways. You should come by sometime this summer. Just send an owl if you want to."
Matthew nodded. "You can do the same. My parents would love to have you." They smiled at each other for a moment before Courtney threw her arms around Matthew's middle. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Stay safe," he said.
"You, too. I'll see you." She waved goodbye and walked away to hug her step-mother.
"Don't forget to write," Stephanie said behind him. He turned to look at her.
"Wouldn't dream of it." She nodded and smiled before going to meet her parents. "Have a great summer, Steph," Matthew said and made his way back to his own family.