The Theory of Magic (Book 1)

14 // Flying Contraptions & Stumpy Wands

Halloween dawned just as any day at Hogwarts did, and it continued in the same bustling fashion. Students daydreamed in class, excited for the evening's spectacle and the delicious feast being prepared in the kitchens. Fi grumbled her way through lessons, thinking of the treats she'd miss that evening, but when she let her final batch of Ravenclaw third years go, she nonetheless went into her office and locked the door behind her.

"Are you ready to go, Ever?" Fi sighed, shuffling over to her trunk to retrieve a satchel.

"Eh?"

"I said are you ready to go?"

"Go?" Ever mumbled too quiet for Fi to hear. "Is it that time of year already?"

"Yup. We need to hurry if I want to have any time to sleep." Fi tossed a collection of items into the satchel's open brim, then slung the strap over her head. She turned, and Puck flared his wings, waiting for invitation. "No, not this time. Stay here out of the cold, you silly creature."

Puck was not at all pleased with this turn of events and made his protests loudly known. Fi tried assuaging him with a fresh cup of flies, but the bird turned his beak up and refused the treat. She set the revolting cup aside with a word of reprimand for the finicky Augurey, then slung the satchel around her neck and gathered up Ever. The skull grumbled about being shoved into a witch's armpit as Fi tucked her close and tried to cover most of the white bone with her sleeve.

"It's better than a box, isn't it?"

"Marginally."

Fi placed a Sickle in her palm and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder with the other. Trailing glittery soot, she let part of the handful hit the banking flames of her hearth, watched the flames bubble up green and brilliant, and said, "Staff room."

She didn't pause to take in the requested room once she arrived: instead, Fi took one step forward, dropped the rest of the powder in the grate behind her, and said, "Hog's Head" as she stepped back. The boisterous noise of the pub rushed over her when the Floo stopped spinning, but Fi only flipped her Sickle onto the grubby mantel, blinked, and Apparated away.

"Oh, bugger."

The rapid succession of transportation caught up with her once the ground solidified under her feet and Fi stumbled, jostling Ever. She lowered herself to her knees, the damp press of frosted heather frigid under her palms, and fought to keep lunch firmly lodged in her middle.

"You should know better," Ever snapped. "You've always had a weak stomach, Delphinia."

"Do be quiet, Ever," Fi muttered, voice warbling. She managed to find her equilibrium and to force herself upright, wincing in the sudden burst of a Highland gale. Around her the mountains rose and fell, steely crags of white and gray with cotton clouds caught between their teeth. Fi's teaching robes came with warming Charms stitched into the lining, but the light Charms did nothing against the autumn breeze. Little of the sun could be seen despite the hour still being early, and the long, blurred shadows seemed sinister in the fat mounds of clover. The charred wreckage of old cottages poked through the foliage like twisted, blackened bones.

Fi moved her hand on instinct and her Will responded, changing the intent of her magic, silently diverting the chillier winds from colliding with her person. She sighed, and was surprised by the relief she felt in being able to cast without reserve. Fi found it rather more exhausting than she'd expected to pretend at Hogwarts, to carry that wand like a stick of Muggle dynamite and to tamp down the more innate urges to do simple spells that would befuddle traditional witches and wizards.

As Ever always said after a trying day, "The old ways are best."

Fi tucked her braid into the folds of her cloak lest it come apart in the whipping wind and stepped off the rock she'd appeared on. Brittle frost crunched under the heel of her boots. Fi set off at a brisk pace, robes flapping around her slight frame, the satchel bouncing against her thigh. A few too many weeks spent idle behind a desk had her out of breath before Fi had climbed the first set of foothills. She turned once to survey the crumbled remains of the village below and released a single, tired sigh.