Narcissa: "Well?"
Draco: "Er... well... We... We were accidentally transported, and... we didn't mean for it to happen. It just... did."
Draco broke into a light sweat beneath his mother's gaze as he gave a superficial account of what had happened, cleverly omitting certain details, such as their encounter with the Muggles or the existence of the firearm.
Narcissa: "You touched your father's artefacts?"
Draco: "Yes... I wanted to show them to Extimum."
Narcissa's eyes settled on Extimum, who appeared far calmer than before. In fact, he had even found the time to cast a quick-cleaning charm on himself after returning.
Ignoring the subtle look Draco's mother directed at him, Extimum glanced around before finally spotting Bloom flying into the library, instantly putting his mind at ease.
He had been worried that the Portkey might have sent her somewhere else or that something had happened to her, but seeing her completely unharmed made those concerns vanish.
With that worry gone, he turned back to meet Narcissa's blue eyes and smiled.
His unexpected smile caught everyone in the room—including Narcissa—off guard, though he quickly returned to his usual expression.
"I apologise for the inconvenience, Mrs Malfoy. The situation proved rather more complicated than any of us had anticipated. Even so, I am relieved that everything ended safely. I regret that I cannot remain any longer, but after today's events it has grown rather late, and I am expected home. I shall not impose upon your hospitality any further. Thank you for your hospitality. I shall take my leave now."
With those words, Extimum quickly walked over to Bloom, who immediately perched herself on his shoulder. After giving a slight bow in farewell, he turned and left.
He had no desire to become entangled in Draco's predicament any further, so leaving seemed the wisest course of action.
Narcissa blinked. Seeing the normally stone-faced boy suddenly smile had genuinely surprised her, but his words soon drew her back to herself.
Casting Draco a narrowed look that clearly promised this matter was far from over, she rose from the sofa and followed Extimum.
"You are far too modest. It was no trouble at all—quite the opposite. You are always welcome here. My husband would have liked to see you as well, though it seems it's grown late for him too. Allow me to see you to the door instead."
Draco, meanwhile, shot Extimum a betrayed look for abandoning him to face this alone, though in the end he could only sigh.
.
Time flew by once again, and before long the holidays had all but come to an end.
They had been rather enjoyable—at least, Extimum had certainly enjoyed them. Of course, he had also received several letters from Draco complaining about the incident, but there was nothing he could do about that. After all, Draco had been the one who decided to let him handle his father's artefacts, so in a way, it was only fair that he bore the consequences himself.
Extimum had already done more than enough by making sure they both returned home safely from that little adventure.
During this time, with his mother now living permanently at the manor, he had felt somewhat restrained whenever he wanted to do certain things. Fortunately, the manor was spacious, and she rarely came to see him, allowing him to carry on with his work in relative peace.
He had made some progress on his personal projects, only to find himself stuck once again.
As for the Greengrass blood curse, he had gained a much better understanding of it, but there remained a significant gap in his knowledge that prevented him from developing a cure. He had come to the conclusion that he would need to speak with an expert on the subject, or else his research would remain stalled for a very long time.
His upcoming business ventures had also advanced considerably, only for him to encounter a similar obstacle. Not everything could be easy, after all. Even with magic, knowledge and experience remained indispensable.
Even so, he had already decided what his next product would be—perhaps even the crown jewel of his growing brand.
Mobile phones.
At this point in time, a few prototypes already existed in the non-magical world, but they were still far too primitive, little more than bulky telephones that happened to be portable.
They were nothing compared to what they would eventually become.
More importantly, his goal was not merely to imitate them, but to go beyond them.
A true technological revolution for the wizarding world.
There was no reason for wizarding society to remain so far behind when it possessed so many advantages. He had no desire to change everything, of course. He genuinely liked the world he lived in. As quaint, old-fashioned, and fantastical as it was, it possessed a charm all its own.
However, encountering that firearm inside the cave had set off several alarm bells in his mind.
It had forced him to seriously consider something he had never examined in depth before: the genuine threat posed by humanity—the Muggles, the non-magical world.
Perhaps not now. Even with all their technological advances, they were still years away from surpassing wizards.
But Extimum carried memories from a parallel future.
He knew that, within a few decades, that balance could change.
And if wizardkind and its civilisation failed to progress, the collapse of the Statute of Secrecy would be the least of their concerns.
It could mean war between two civilisations.
Magic was versatile and astonishingly powerful, but wizards had limits.
Limits that no one had surpassed in centuries.
It was that thought which finally led him to consider the future of his world and its civilisation—something that perhaps was never his responsibility to decide, but would undoubtedly affect him all the same.
Of course, after spending some time worrying and imagining countless bleak futures inspired by history and fantasy alike, he eventually relaxed.
It was still early.
There was more than enough time, and the wizarding world was hardly lacking in talent or potential.
So, he decided to begin with something modest, which brought him back to mobile phones.
No... magical phones.
No, wait... that wasn't right either.
Technically, they wouldn't be phones...
He still needed to think of a proper name.
Though, back in reality, he lacked what was necessary to build them—not only because the task itself was difficult, but because, being magical devices designed to suit the needs of wizards, they would have to function differently and perform tasks that ordinary telephones never could.
On top of that, he had no wish to ruin the wizarding world's unique charm. There were still countless things he needed to consider before venturing into that field.
Perhaps many years from now, it wouldn't be such a bad thing if wizarding society evolved into a technologically advanced magical civilisation.
For now, however, balance was preferable, especially considering how deeply rooted conservative beliefs remained within the magical world.
Anyone willing to look into the matter would discover that, more often than not, it wasn't that there had been no progress.
Rather, wizards simply didn't want change.
The reason?
Fear, perhaps?
Convenience?
Rejection?
In truth, it was a far more complex and delicate issue than it first appeared, with countless motives and interests intertwined.
Still, what others couldn't accomplish didn't mean he couldn't.
He had the capital to try.
Influence.
Perhaps not entirely yet, but once he came of age and assumed leadership of his House, he would have a voice among the other branches of the family. And if he could persuade them, he could persuade the wizarding world.
Well... enough indulging in fantasies.
He learned that the Weasley family had won the Daily Prophet's annual Grand Prize Galleon Draw.
He had briefly been tempted to write them a mild reprimand when the very first thing they announced in the newspaper was that they intended to spend the money on a family holiday, which, given their current financial situation, struck him as a rather questionable decision.
In the end, however, he refrained.
Even as a friend of the family, it would have been inappropriate. They had every right to spend their winnings however they wished, and a family holiday was hardly a bad thing.
Even so, unwilling to leave the matter entirely alone, he sent them a letter congratulating them and offering a few suggestions on how they might use whatever money remained afterwards.
Ahem. If, for some inexplicable reason, his home renovation company happened to appear among those suggestions, it was merely a complete and utter coincidence.
That said, it did have excellent prospects.
Likewise, he hadn't forgotten Harry's birthday. He sent him several books that he knew would prove useful.
When he did, he briefly wondered whether giving someone books as a birthday present made him a rather boring person...
But after considering the era, he dismissed the thought.
In that same letter, he had also asked Harry, out of curiosity, how things were going at home.
In a sense, the Dursleys had become his guinea pigs for practising Legilimency, so there was always the possibility that something might eventually go wrong.
As it turned out, Harry wrote back saying that, over time, they had gradually begun to revert to some of their old habits toward him.
Even so, they no longer bullied him or prevented him from doing his magical homework, so long as he stayed in his bedroom, and for that, he was genuinely grateful.
The previous year, completing the summer assignments set by the professors had been difficult.
This time, however, it hadn't been a problem at all.
He had also exchanged letters with everyone else, especially Luna and Hermione.
He had even visited Hermione again a few days earlier, mainly to thank her parents for the kindness they had shown him before.
Stepping out of his room and descending the staircase, Extimum entered the dining hall and took his seat, waiting for breakfast to be served.
Bloom settled onto the miniature table Bob had prepared especially for her, eagerly awaiting the delicious dishes the manor's house-elves always prepared.
Her excitement, however, diminished considerably when the door opened once more, admitting a tall, graceful woman whose every movement carried noble elegance, her beautiful dark green hair standing out above all else.
She took her seat at the table, and at that very moment, a procession of house-elves emerged from the kitchen, carrying an array of dishes that quickly filled the section of the table where they sat.
Completely indifferent to his mother's presence, Extimum calmly began serving himself breakfast.
The food at the manor was always excellent—not the slightest bit inferior to Hogwarts'. In fact, with the manor's resources concentrated in one place, it was arguably even better.
Twice a week, he was allowed to choose the menu himself. On every other day, the cooks were free to exercise their creativity.
As he ate, Bob approached the table and placed two newspapers down—one beside him and the other beside his mother.
It was part of the usual morning routine, so he paid it little attention.
Even so, out of habit, he glanced at the front page.
That single glance was enough to make the spoon halfway to his mouth stop abruptly.
BLACK STILL AT LARGE
"..."
Ava: "Is something the matter?"
Setting her cutlery neatly upon her plate, she spoke in her characteristically neutral voice.
Tearing his eyes away from the newspaper, Extimum slowly lowered the spoon still carrying a mouthful of food.
Extimum: "Nothing important. I was merely surprised by the headline."
Giving him a searching look, Ava lowered her own gaze to the newspaper beside her.
Ava: "Sirius Black... Yes, there were reports about him several days ago. I thought they would have captured him by now, given how much time has passed, but it seems the Ministry remains just as incompetent as ever. Tsk. They'll make quite the spectacle over this."
The irritation in her voice was unmistakable, though she quickly dismissed it and returned to her breakfast.
'So, it's beginning already.'
Without looking at him, she continued,
"You needn't concern yourself too much with this matter, whatever your interest in it may be. Even if Black truly has gone mad, he wouldn't dare lay a finger on our family..."
The remainder of breakfast passed in silence. Once they had finished, each went their separate ways. In Extimum's case, he returned to his room.
"Are you worried about Black's escape?" Bloom asked curiously as soon as they entered.
Extimum: "Not exactly... I have nothing to do with him, so he isn't important. It's what his escape implies."
Bloom: "And what would that be?"
Extimum: "Trouble... and a little terror, I suppose."
Bloom: "Huh? What do you mean by that?"
Extimum: "Exactly what I said."
Bloom: "Tch, you're being cryptic and mysterious with me again..."
Extimum: "Where would the fun be if we knew everything? Hmm... forget I said that. I suppose that's rather hypocritical coming from me. In any case, let's just say it's better if you don't know for now."
"So you don't trust me... Hmph."
Bloom gave him an offended look and let out a huff.
Extimum: "It isn't a matter of trust. You'll understand in a few days...
By the way, with everything else on my mind, I completely forgot to ask. Have they released the prisoner yet?"
Bloom: "Ah, that young man? Yes. Bob let him go some time ago. There was quite a commotion in the village. The mayor even came to the manor in the middle of the night the other day to meet with your mother, so they released him."
Extimum: "I see."
.-.
"How is my son, Doctor?"
A worried woman's voice echoed through a hospital room.
"Sigh. For the moment, he's still the same, Mrs Jones. Physically, he's in perfect health. Mentally, however..." The doctor paused before continuing. "I'll be honest with you. Over the past few days he hasn't shown much improvement despite the treatment, and it's difficult to determine the best course of action when we don't know what caused his condition in the first place. Still, it's far too early to draw conclusions. We should wait at least another two months before making any firm assessment. In the meantime, I hope you'll stay strong and have faith in your son's recovery."
"Yes... thank you, Doctor. I'm sorry to trouble you. I'll come back in a few days."
Tears streamed down the woman's face as she apologised and quietly stepped out of the room.
Her son had been missing for nearly two weeks.
During that time, she had been frantic with worry, asking every neighbour and acquaintance she could think of for information. She had even gone to the sheriff in her efforts to find him.
After days of searching, the only thing she had managed to uncover was that some of his friends had dared him to vandalise NorthHollow Manor and that he had last been seen camping nearby.
After that, he had simply vanished.
She had organised search parties, combing the nearby woods and every place he might have wandered off to or become lost in, but they had found nothing.
It wasn't until she managed to speak with the mayor and told him everything she knew that the situation finally changed. Although the mayor had looked rather pale as he listened to her account that day, he nevertheless promised he would have an answer for her within the next few days.
She had assumed it was little more than a polite excuse to get rid of her.
Yet, just as he had promised, only a few days later the mayor arrived with the news that her son had been found and was in hospital.
Relief...
And dread.
The moment her mind fully processed his words, she rushed to the hospital without sparing another thought.
Whether it was because the news had already spread throughout the town, because of the desperation written across her face, because of the mayor's intervention—or perhaps all three—she never even had to ask at reception.
She was taken straight to her son.
The moment she stepped into the room and saw him at last, an immense weight lifted from her chest.
Only for another to settle there almost immediately.
Something was different.
His eyes looked empty.
Even when she spoke to him and held his hand, he never truly looked at her. His gaze remained fixed on something unseen, as though he were lost somewhere far away.
His once rebellious and defiant attitude had vanished completely, replaced by an unsettling apathy and absent-mindedness.
Had that been all, perhaps it would not have been so terrible.
But he also suffered from panic attacks.
Whenever he found himself somewhere too dark—such as entering the bathroom before switching on the light—or whenever he noticed a shadow touching his body, he reacted with overwhelming fear and panic, sometimes screaming or fleeing towards the nearest source of light.
If he remained in darkness for too long, his condition deteriorated even further.
That was why the doctors had recommended keeping him in hospital for the time being.
His attacks could strike without warning.
She had tried to help him through them herself, but to no avail.
Whenever one began, it was as though he could no longer see her.
There was only...
...the darkness.
With her head lowered, she wandered absent-mindedly through the hospital corridors.
The thought of returning alone to her empty home did nothing to ease the ache in her heart.
"Elizabeth."
A voice called out from behind her, bringing her to a halt.
She turned around.
"Sheriff Brown..."
A faint spark returned to the woman's eyes when she saw him, only to fade again the moment her thoughts drifted back to her son.
The man stood a short distance away. Seeing how exhausted and worn she looked, he quietly closed the distance between them and pulled her into an embrace.
"I want to apologise. I couldn't find your son sooner. If I'd been faster... perhaps he wouldn't have ended up like this."
"Sniff... It's all right. I know you did everything you could..."
Elizabeth didn't pull away from the embrace. On the contrary, she leaned into it, though the weight in her heart prevented her from finding any comfort.
"I know this isn't the best time, and it's rather late for this, but..."
Elizabeth lifted her head from the man's chest and looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.
"I can't bear to see you carry on like this any longer. I don't want to.
There have been so many things on my mind—things that still weigh heavily on my heart—but, Elizabeth... your letters, your feelings... they helped me through one of the darkest periods of my life.
Before, I didn't want to answer you because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to return your feelings the way you deserved.
But after everything that's happened, I've realised I can't leave things as they are.
I can't keep putting this off.
I want to be with you."
The man's eyes never left Elizabeth's.
As she gazed back at him, listening to every word, he could feel his face beginning to grow warm.
Even so, he held her gaze.
"I... love you."
"Oh, Thomas..."
Neither of them could resist the moment.
Paying no heed to where they were or to the curious glances they drew, they slowly leaned closer and closer until their lips finally met in a gentle yet lingering kiss.
.
[Well... I wanted to give that little mini-series a proper ending, but I feel like I got a bit too carried away with the telenovela spirit. (:v) I hope you enjoyed it.]
.-.
** Chuff... Chuff... **
Steam billowed from the locomotive, rising into the sky to merge with the thick clouds that already concealed the sun.
What remained of the morning promised a cold afternoon, and quite possibly a rainy one as well.
Boarding the train, Extimum and Bloom searched for an empty compartment—or at least one occupied by someone they knew.
They passed several before finally opening a door and finding a few familiar faces.
Ron: "Oi! Extimum! Long time no see! Come on, get in and have a seat."
Harry: "Hi, Extimum."
Hermione: "Hello."
Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all seated inside the compartment.
Extimum: "I'm surprised you all managed to get here before I did."
Ron: "Isn't that the truth? I was just thinking the same thing. You're usually the first one here, but today you were a bit late."
Extimum: "I wouldn't call it late... but never mind. How have you all been?"
As he spoke, he closed the door behind him and took the seat beside Hermione.
Harry: "I've been all right..."
Ron: "Harry blew up his aunt!"
Harry: "Ron!"
Ron: "What? You were going to tell him anyway."
Harry: "Yes, but not like that. You make it sound awful..."
Hermione: "There's really no way to make it sound any better..."
Ron: "Either way, by now there aren't many people who haven't heard about it. You know how quickly gossip spreads."
Extimum: "I did hear something about it, actually, but I don't know the details."
Harry: "Sigh. Things have been better at home since what you did last time, but my Uncle Vernon's sister came to visit, and... well, she's always treated me terribly. She said some awful things, and I just couldn't keep it under control. The magic acted on its own, and she began to swell up, floating like a balloon before drifting away."
The discomfort in his voice was unmistakable, though he didn't sound particularly remorseful.
Hermione: "Wait... what did Extimum do at your house?"
The new information immediately piqued Hermione's curiosity.
Harry's eyes widened for a brief moment as he realised he had let too much slip.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. He just came to visit me once and had a talk with my aunt and uncle. After that, they started treating me a little better.
Only a little."
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
She knew Harry well enough to tell he was hiding something.
Extimum: "Ahem. I see. Then she must have said something truly dreadful if it caused your magic to lose control.
She got what she deserved."
Ron: "I agree."
Hermione: "Extimum, you shouldn't encourage that sort of behaviour. Even if she was horrible to Harry, that doesn't change the fact that she could have been seriously hurt—or worse, Harry could have ended up in Azkaban."
Extimum: "Then it's fortunate that neither of those things happened."
Hermione: "You...!"
Extimum: "All right, let's not dwell on that. Letters can only say so much. Why don't you tell me what you all did over the holidays instead?"
"By the way... who's he?"
Although he already knew the answer, he still asked upon noticing the figure of a man wrapped in a heavy coat, asleep in the corner of the compartment.
Ron: "He's a professor. Must be the new one."
...
The conversation drifted naturally from one topic to another, and before long they had caught one another up on everything that had happened during the summer.
As time passed, rain began to fall outside, droplets streaking across the train windows.
Harry's smile gradually faded.
He began telling them about Sirius Black—the infamous murderer who had escaped from Azkaban, the most secure prison in the wizarding world.
More importantly, he feared Black might now have a reason to come after him.
None of it truly reached Extimum's ears.
At some point, he simply stopped listening.
Every hair on his body had stood on end.
His instincts were practically screaming that something dangerous was approaching.
While Harry continued speaking, the air gradually grew colder.
At first, it was barely noticeable.
But with each passing second, the temperature dropped more sharply.
** Screeeeeeeech! **
Without warning, the train ground to an abrupt halt, jolting everyone in their seats.
Ron: "What's going on? Why are we stopping?"
Hermione: "We haven't reached Hogwarts yet."
Harry: "Do you think something's wrong with the train?"
Ron: "I hope not."
Extimum stepped into the corridor and peered outside the compartment, where he saw numerous passengers leaning out of their doors in confusion.
Harry moved beside him to look as well, but before he had the chance, the train lurched violently once more, throwing him back into his seat.
Extimum's wand appeared in his hand as he locked the compartment door, prompting both Ron and Hermione to raise their eyebrows.
If he was being honest with himself, he wasn't entirely prepared for this.
He had tried to learn the Patronus Charm.
He had failed.
Setting that disappointment aside, he had searched for alternative methods, but... let us simply say that his library was not exactly stocked with the sort of knowledge he required.
At least, not at his current level.
The Patronus Charm was far from simple to begin with. It was considered advanced magic and notoriously difficult to master.
Although there was no guarantee the Dementors would attack him, that hardly meant they wouldn't.
After all, they were uncontrollable creatures by their very nature. The Ministry merely directed them because of an agreement between the two parties and because, should the need arise, it had the means to restrain them.
That was why, when he had first seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione inside this compartment, he had briefly debated whether or not to join them.
The problem was that he had no idea what the situation was like in the other compartments.
And while this one might also be dangerous...
It was simultaneously the safest place on the train.
For one reason alone.
The professor sleeping inside it was capable of casting a corporeal Patronus.
As that thought crossed his mind, Extimum's gaze immediately shifted towards Remus Lupin.
Hermione: "What's wrong, Extimum? Did you see something?"
Before he could answer, every light aboard the train suddenly went out.
The train shuddered violently once again.
At the same time, the temperature plunged even further.
Even Extimum felt the cold—a sensation he had almost forgotten.
Everyone's breathing seemed to slow instinctively, and every exhale became visible in the frigid air.
Without another moment's hesitation, Extimum strode over to the sleeping man, pulled away his coat, and shook him firmly.
"Professor Lupin, wake up!"
His voice rang out loudly against the deathly silence that had suddenly settled over the train.
** Click. **
At that very instant, a distinct sound came from behind him as the drowsy Professor Lupin slowly opened his eyes in confusion.
** Hoooooo... **
A freezing breath brushed against Extimum's back.
Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, and Ron's rat both let out frightened squeals, one darting away while the other instinctively crouched into a defensive posture.
An icy, despairing feeling flooded the compartment.
** Hoooooo... **
Extimum turned.
Before him stood a creature torn straight from a nightmare.
Like a wraith... or the Grim Reaper itself.
It was cloaked in tattered, spectral robes so dark that not a single feature beneath the hood could be seen. Thin, skeletal hands gripped either side of the doorway as it remained perfectly still.
The creature had no visible eyes.
No visible mouth.
Yet he could feel it staring directly at him.
A pitch-black cloud—visible only to his eyes—shrouded the Dementor.
His emotions wavered.
From inside his coat pocket, he felt Bloom clutch tightly at the fabric, trembling with fear.
The creature's attention then shifted away from him and settled upon Harry as it glided a little farther into the compartment.
At the same time, the dark cloud surrounding the Dementor suddenly stirred, as though drawn by something. Before Extimum had the chance to react, it rushed straight towards him.
It merged with his face.
Pouring through every opening—his eyes, his nose, his mouth—it disappeared into him.
"Expecto Patronum!"
The dark creature seemed to sense something.
It started to turn back towards Extimum—
—but before it could, a voice rang out and a brilliant silver light shot across the compartment, slamming into the Dementor and hurling it back through the doorway.
** Gasp! ** ** Heavy breathing. **
Only then did everyone's rigid breathing finally loosen enough to return to normal.
"My apologies. I was a bit slow—I had only just woken up.
Is everyone all right?"
Harry: "Y-yes..."
Ron: "That was terrifying..."
Hermione: "For once, I agree with you, Ron."
Only Extimum remained silent.
He quietly stepped aside before lowering himself into a seat.
Cold sweat had formed across his forehead, and there was an emptiness in his eyes.
Harry: "What was that thing?"
Remus: "Dementors. The guards of Azkaban. They were most likely searching for Sirius Black."
At that moment, the lights flickered before illuminating the compartment once more.
The Dementor had retreated after being struck.
Remus: "I imagine that was quite an introduction for the lot of you. Here."
He handed Ron a large bar of chocolate.
"It's chocolate. It'll help you feel better. I need a word with the driver"
Offering them an encouraging smile, Remus left the compartment.
Everyone's breathing was still somewhat uneven, but gradually settled as Ron broke the chocolate into pieces and passed them around.
Extimum accepted his portion almost mechanically.
A bead of cold sweat slid down the side of his face.
At that moment, Bloom gave off a faint glow before emerging from his pocket to look at him.
The others had yet to notice anything unusual.
But because of the bond they shared, she could feel an immense disturbance within him.
Bloom: 'Extimum... are you all right?'
Extimum: '...'
There was no answer.
Only silence.
Bloom: 'Extimum? Why aren't you answering me?'
Bloom flew up until she was directly in front of his face and looked him in the eyes.
But his gaze didn't seem focused on her at all.
Her actions drew the others' attention, and it wasn't until someone suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder that Extimum's eyes finally moved.
Hermione: "Extimum, are you all right?"
The touch, together with her voice, brought him back to reality.
Turning to look at her, he swallowed, moistening his dry throat.
Extimum: "Yes... I'm fine."
His eyes still looked somewhat vacant, but his usual neutral tone betrayed nothing.
Ron and Harry relaxed at his answer.
Bloom and Hermione, however, continued watching him with lingering concern.
** Chuff... **
The train gave a slight jolt before beginning to move once more.
Extimum: 'Sorry for worrying you, Bloom. I'm all right.'
Bloom: 'I don't think you are.'
Extimum offered no reply.
Instead, he tried to focus on what everyone else was saying as they talked about the terrifying encounter.
Eventually, after venting their fears, the conversation drifted back to lighter subjects in an effort to ease the atmosphere.
Even so, Extimum remained silent for most of the journey.
That, in itself, wasn't particularly unusual.
What was unusual was that he never even reached for one of his books.
Instead, he simply stared into space or looked at one of his friends whenever they spoke to him.
That dark cloud he had absorbed...
It had been the Dementor's negative emotions.
Dementors fed upon the happiness of others.
He, however, had absorbed every ounce of the Dementor's negative emotions instead.
Ordinarily, something like that would not have affected him very much.
But the Dementor's very nature had shaken both his emotions and the fragile control he maintained over his empathy, causing him to truly absorb that entire mass of darkness.
Even for him, such profound darkness was beyond anything he had ever experienced.
An overwhelming sorrow lay at its core.
Mixed with it were envy and an insatiable hunger for the happiness of others.
Then came despair.
Destruction.
Resentment.
Emptiness.
Oblivion.
All of those emotions—
Compressed to an unimaginable degree—
Had poured into him.
They were so deep that they had very nearly consumed him.
Yet, in the end, he managed to digest them.
His previous experiences had played no small part in that.
They were emotions so dark and so densely compressed that no human being should ever have to experience them.
They assaulted his mental defences from within.
Even after recovering, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened.
Most of all, because he could have sworn the Dementor had felt it when he absorbed its emotions.
That had never happened before.
A dark curiosity lingered in the back of his mind, wondering what it might mean... or whether there would be any consequences.
Lupin's swift intervention had prevented him from finding out.
Harry: "Come on, Extimum. It's time to get off."
Extimum: "Ah... right."
...
The rainy weather persisted, though once they boarded the carriages they escaped most of the downpour. The same could not be said for the first-years travelling across the lake in the boats.
It was tradition, after all.
With a bit of luck—and perhaps a little magic—it probably wouldn't be much of a problem.
By the time they reached the castle, Extimum finally managed to put aside both his thoughts and the lingering unease he had been feeling, though doing so brought a frown to his otherwise expressionless face.
That Dementor had affected him far more than he had expected.
And it hadn't even been because of the creature's own actions.
It had been because of himself.
He decided he would have to pay closer attention to his empathic ability. He had no intention of allowing something like that to happen again.
Before long, he found himself entering the Great Hall, bidding Harry and the others goodbye before taking his seat at the Ravenclaw table.
It didn't take long for the table to fill with students, and he soon felt someone sit down beside him.
Extimum: "Aren't you going to sit with the students in your year?"
Luna: "I like it better here."
Extimum: "Do you? And why's that? What's here?"
Luna: "I feel comfortable here, and... you're-"
Mitchell: "Extimum! It's been so long! I missed you!"
Mitchell suddenly appeared behind Extimum, exclaiming excitedly as he threw his arms around him in a bear hug.
Extimum: "Let go."
Needless to say, the enthusiasm wasn't entirely reciprocated.
"Oi, oi, what are you doing, Mitchell? How dare you defile Extimum?" Steve exclaimed in alarm as he noticed the dangerous look in Extimum's eyes while taking the seat opposite him.
"I wouldn't go that far. Defile sounds a bit... wrong. Though I'm not surprised, coming from you, Steve. It seems the holidays haven't changed you one bit," Padma remarked as she sat down beside him, the disdain in her voice unmistakable.
"Yeah, the only thing that's changed is his belly. He's put on so much weight I doubt a broomstick could get him off the ground now." Trudor took the seat on Steve's other side and lightly poked his stomach through his robes.
Steve: "Tsk. How dare you say that? All right, I've put on a bit of weight, but it's not that bad. Besides, I've already told you there's a reason for it. It isn't because I want to."
Padma: "Yes, yes, we've all heard your story about how it's supposedly for the sake of your Herculean physique, but I don't see any sign of that happening."
Steve: "Tsk, tsk. Such little faith. You need patience if you want to succeed in life. It's still early. The world must learn to endure—and appreciate me—in all my forms, especially while it's still early. Just wait until we reach fifth year and Hehehehe."
Trudor: "Quiet. Don't laugh like that. It's unsettling."
"** Mmph! Mmph! **"
Mitchell writhed about in his seat, trying to attract everyone's attention and call for help. His mouth had been stuffed with a cloth, and his arms and legs were bound with ropes.
Even so, everyone tacitly ignored him and continued their conversation as though nothing had happened.
Steve: "By the way, Extimum, how was it? I heard one of the Dementors entered the compartment you were in."
Extimum: "Well, I can't say it was a pleasant experience, but nothing serious happened. The new professor was with us and drove it away before it could do anything."
Padma: "A new professor? Who? What subject will he be teaching?"
Extimum: "His name is-"
Steve: "Oi, oi, you can't do that. Even if it's you, Extimum. That's my job, remember? It's my passion."
Extimum: "Very well..."
Padma shot Steve an irritated look but waited patiently for him to continue.
Steve: "Ahem. Name: Remus John Lupin. Half-blood. Former Hogwarts student from Gryffindor House. Currently unmarried, and-"
Padma: "Skip the useless information and tell us what actually matters."
Steve: "All right... He'll be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. I still think I preferred the shy Padma we met at the beginning. She didn't interrupt me..."
Padma: "I heard that."
Luna: "Hehehe."
Trudor smiled but didn't comment on Padma's attitude.
"So, getting back to what we were talking about... nothing happened with the Dementor?"
Extimum: "No."
Mitchell: "** Mmmph! Mmmph! **"
Steve: "That's good. Besides searching the whole train, I heard they also entered two other compartments, and not everyone handled it so well. Some of the first-years fainted from fright, even though the Dementors didn't actually do anything to them. I also heard one nearly attacked a newly transferred student with long hair."
Trudor: "Honestly, I don't know how the Ministry allowed those things anywhere near the train. They must be mad. No, Minister Fudge must be. I'm certain this is going to cause a scandal. We're talking about Dementors, the guards of Azkaban—cruel creatures that show neither mercy nor distinction—being allowed anywhere near us, children and teenagers..."
Padma: "Shhh, Trudor, lower your voice. You can't just speak about the Minister like that."
Trudor: "Bah, let him hear me. What's that puppet going to do?"
Padma was about to continue when, at that moment, the Great Hall's main doors opened and several professors entered.
They walked past them, continuing on to join the others already seated at the staff table.
As one of them passed, a flick of a wand made the ropes binding Mitchell vanish, along with the cloth stuffed over his mouth.
Mitchell: "Finally! I'm free! Thank you, Professor."
Mitchell spoke with tears almost welling in his eyes as he looked at Professor McGonagall, who merely cast the group a stern glance before giving the overly dramatic Mitchell a wordless look.
The conversation came to an end not long afterward as Dumbledore stepped up to the podium and began the Sorting ceremony, followed by his customary speech welcoming everyone to the new school year.
He emphasized the danger posed by the Dementors, introduced the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin, and announced the retirement of Professor Kettleburn, the former Care of Magical Creatures teacher, along with his replacement, Rubeus Hagrid.
After that, of course, it was finally time to enjoy the feast.
.
** knock knock **
"Come in."
Opening the door, Extimum entered Professor McGonagall's office.
Inside, she was already waiting for him, seated behind her desk, while Hermione stood in front of it.
Extimum: "Professor McGonagall, Hermione. It seems I'm the last to arrive. I hope I haven't kept you waiting."
McGonagall: "Not at all, Mr Enoch, there's no need to worry. Miss Granger arrived only a short while before you."
Extimum: "That's a relief, then. That said, may I ask why you've called us here?"
McGonagall: "I'm just getting to that."
Opening one of the drawers in her desk, the professor took out a small box before rising to her feet.
"I assume you both know that last year you chose to take every available elective. That is not, in itself, a problem. However, under normal circumstances, it would be impossible, as some of those subjects are scheduled at the same time.
"Hogwarts has a long history and has always been committed to providing its students with the best education possible. As such, while uncommon, situations like yours have arisen before. And for cases such as these, we have a solution."
By the time she finished speaking, Professor McGonagall had stepped in front of them. She slid the lid off the box, revealing its contents.
Inside rested a necklace bearing a very distinctive hourglass.
Hermione: "What is that, Professor McGonagall?"
McGonagall: "This is a Time-Turner. A very special magical artefact known to very few people. Its use is quite simple. Hold it properly while wearing it, then turn the hourglass. Each full turn sends the user one hour back in time."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock and astonishment at McGonagall's words, while Extimum remained perfectly composed, studying the necklace with unmistakable interest.
"Considering everything I've just explained, I believe you already have an idea of where I'm going with this. You are being entrusted with a great responsibility—not only in recognition of your excellent academic performance, but also because of the trust and confidence the school is placing in you by giving you this.
"With it, you'll be able to attend all of your scheduled classes."
Extimum: "But there's only one?"
McGonagall: "Yes. At first, we considered requesting two for your convenience, but after some discussion, only one was requested from the Ministry. The Headmaster and I agreed that, since the two of you are friends, in the same year, and attending the same classes, there would be no need for a second one. Besides, given how special an artefact it is, it will be easier to safeguard if both of you share the responsibility."
There was another reason as well, one McGonagall chose not to mention. By entrusting them with only a single Time-Turner, she hoped they would keep one another from using it carelessly.
"But... Professor, is it really all right for us to have something this valuable?"
Hermione asked, uncertainty and concern evident in her voice. After all, this was an object that allowed its user to travel through time.
It was unbelievable. Though she had once researched the subject out of sheer curiosity, she had learned that it was an exceptionally rare branch of magic, one heavily regulated by the Ministry.
And now they were placing such a magical artefact in her hands and expecting her to use it.
McGonagall: "I understand your concern, but there is no problem with it. You need only take good care of it and use it responsibly. I must also remind you of the agreement you made previously. You are expected to maintain at least an acceptable standard in every subject you've enrolled in.
"And more importantly, you must promise never to tell anyone that you possess this or that you're using it. No one besides the two of you—and, naturally, the Headmaster and a handful of professors—is to know about it."
Extimum: "We understand, Professor. You needn't worry. We won't disappoint the expectations the school has placed in us."
Hermione: "Yes, we promise. We'll use it responsibly."
McGonagall nodded, smiling faintly at their resolve.
"In that case, you may take it. Keep it somewhere safe. You may try it at your own discretion before classes begin tomorrow, so that you can become familiar with how it works."
Extimum wasted no time, taking the necklace from the box. Though he appeared perfectly calm on the surface, inwardly he was thrilled.
Soon afterward, both he and Hermione left Professor McGonagall's office.
Hermione seemed deep in thought, while Extimum examined the necklace carefully before tucking it away.
Extimum: "Is there something you want to say?"
Hermione: "Yes. We need to plan how we're going to use it. Since our timetables are identical, it'll be simple enough. We just have to meet after the classes that overlap. We still need to decide which class we'll attend first and which one we'll return to using the Time-Turner. Also, for safety's sake, I think we should take turns looking after it. You can carry it one week and I can carry it the next. As so—W-what are you doing?"
Extimum slipped his hand into Hermione's, gently taking hold of it and drawing her a little closer.
Extimum: "Let's try it."
Hermione: "What? Right now?"
Extimum: "Of course. McGonagall herself said we should become familiar with how it works. Besides, paradoxical as it sounds, we don't actually have much time. Classes start tomorrow morning, and we have lessons first thing. If we leave it until the last minute, we risk things not going as planned."
Hermione: "I don't think—"
She couldn't finish speaking, because Extimum swiftly pulled her behind a nearby wall. He slipped the necklace around his neck, then looped the chain around Hermione as well.
Holding the hourglass by both ends, he gave it a single turn before stopping and looking at Hermione, who was watching the little hourglass with a mixture of anticipation and caution.
Their eyes met, filled with excitement and a hint of nervousness, as Extimum released the hourglass and let it spin.
The very next second, both of them felt their surroundings blur slightly, and a faint wave of dizziness washed over them as they looked down at their feet.
Hermione: "Did it work?"
Extimum: "Let's find out."
Unwinding the chain from around Hermione's neck, he concealed the Time-Turner beneath his robes. Still holding her hand, he hurried back towards the Great Hall.
Silently, he enveloped them both in an illusion that rendered them invisible to everyone around them.
They stopped on a staircase overlooking the long line of students entering the Great Hall through the main doors.
"Incredible! There we are." Hermione pointed towards a group where she could see herself walking alongside Ron, Harry, and Extimum.
Extimum: "Truly fascinating."
Excitement shone in his eyes as he watched time travel become reality before him.
Hermione: "But it's dangerous too... Can you imagine what someone with bad intentions could do with something like this?"
Setting aside some of her own exhilaration, she once again considered what had just been entrusted to them.
Extimum: "Fortunately, we don't have bad intentions, do we? Well, now we have an extra hour. What would you like to do?"
Hermione: "Er, I don't know. Yawn. I was actually planning to go to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow to collect our timetables. But I suppose we technically do have an extra hour..."
Extimum: "Would you like to go flying outside the castle?"
Hermione: "With the Dementors out there?"
Extimum: "Oh... on second thought, perhaps that's not such a good idea. In that case... let's take a walk around the castle. There are still a few interesting places I haven't shown you."
Hermione: "All right. It's not as though I have anything else to do now."
.
Morning came, followed by breakfast, and finally the morning lessons began.
The night had been peaceful, and Extimum awoke full of energy, resuming his daily routine. He felt he had slept far better than he had over the past few days.
Then again, considering everything, he spent far more of the year at Hogwarts than he did in his own home, so perhaps it wasn't surprising that he felt more at ease here.
Making his way through the corridors, he quickly lost Mitchell and the others. After one final turn, he arrived before an unremarkable-looking door.
Casting one last discreet glance around to make sure no one had followed him, he turned the handle and stepped inside.
Hermione: "You're here."
Extimum: "I am."
Hermione: "No one followed you, did they?"
Extimum: "Of course not. Now then, shall we begin?"
Hermione: "All right. We're right on time, anyway."
Extimum: "Not that time matters all that much to us anymore, does it?"
Hermione: "It does. Each turn sends us back exactly one hour. If we waste too much time and miss the right moment, we'll end up travelling back farther than we intended."
Extimum: "Ah, that won't be a problem anymore. I've already got a feel for the exact amount of rotation."
Hermione: "Already? But we've only used it once. How could you possibly... You!"
A stern, exasperated look settled on her face.
Extimum: "Come now, don't look at me like that. I only ran a few small tests after we parted last night to better understand how it works. It's not as though I did anything particularly reckless. I didn't even leave my room."
Hermione: "Grr... Even so, you shouldn't be using it so irresponsibly."
Extimum: "All right. Thanks to those tests, though, I now have a much finer sense of the precise amount needed. Now then, how was Arithmancy?"
Hermione: "Honestly, the first lesson was a little dull. It wasn't all that different from an ordinary maths class. But towards the end, Professor Septima explained a few fascinating things about numbers, so there's definitely more to look forward to."
Extimum: "Hmm. Then I'll look forward to it."
Hermione: "And what about you? How was Muggle Studies?"
Extimum: "Well... it wasn't exactly out of this world."
Hermione: "...Pffft. Hahaha—coughcough—Ahem. It really shouldn't be funny, but for some reason, when you say it like that..."
Extimum: "In any case, the professor seemed quite enthusiastic about the subject, and some of the things he shared were rather enlightening."
Hermione: "Good. I want to know exactly what view of the non-magical world is being taught to everyone else as well. Hurry up and activate it."
Extimum nodded as he pulled the necklace out from beneath his shirt and stepped closer to Hermione so that the chain would encircle her as well.
Then, with a focused gaze and precise control, he turned the tiny hourglass two full rotations and a few millimetres more.
A wave of instability enveloped them both, and the world around them gently blurred.
When everything settled, Extimum promptly took out his pocket watch, checked the time, and slipped it back into his pocket.
Extimum: "We've arrived at exactly the right time. We have ten minutes to reach our classes."
Hermione: "Perfect. Then I'll see you later for Divination."
With an excited smile, Hermione bid him farewell and left the broom cupboard.
Extimum did not linger either. He followed her out before heading off in a different direction towards his own lesson.
There was a reason they were attending their classes in alternating order.
It was, of course, an experiment.
A suggestion made by Extimum, one that Hermione had readily agreed to.
The results so far were proving somewhat confusing, though at the same time surprisingly straightforward.
You see, travelling through time is one thing.
Travelling through time with someone else, to different points in time, while both of you know that you are not the same versions of yourselves—and yet, at the same time, you are—is something else entirely.
Confusing?
Well, that was exactly how Extimum felt as he stepped into the Arithmancy classroom and saw Hermione already seated at her desk, several books lying open before her as she waited for the professor to arrive.
There was nothing unusual about the scene itself.
Except for the fact that, at that very moment, both he and Hermione were living paradoxes.
Taking the seat beside her, he laid out his own books and waited patiently.
The Hermione sitting beside him was, technically, the Hermione from the past.
Yet she was also the Hermione of his present.
Both of them knew they belonged to different points in time.
He could see her here before him, while at the same time he remembered being with her only an hour earlier—at this very hour—attending Muggle Studies.
It did not seem like much on the surface, but merely understanding the situation was strangely captivating.
Whatever she was doing in Muggle Studies, he already knew.
Likewise, whatever he was about to do from this moment onward, the other Hermione already knew as well.
Better yet, everything happening here, as well as everything happening there, should already be known to both his other self and Hermione's other self, who were, at this very moment, attending Divination—though neither version of them had yet become aware of it.
Fascinating.
That said, the idea itself proved more fascinating than the reality.
After all, just as he now noticed Hermione beside him studying him rather intently, he had also realised that there was nothing at all unusual about either of their counterparts from another point in time.
Of course, there was no particular reason there should have been.
But you never know, do you?
"Good morning, class. Please settle down. We shall begin immediately."
Setting a case upon her desk, Professor Sinistra, who had just entered the classroom, took her place at the front and surveyed the students.
Sinistra: "First of all, as I imagine this is the first time many of you have heard of this subject, I'll begin with a brief introduction.
"To put it simply, Arithmancy is the magical discipline devoted to the study of the magical properties of numbers.
"That probably won't mean very much to most of you just yet, but you should understand that, while many witches and wizards dismiss this branch of magic as dull, overly complicated, or unnecessary...
Arithmancy lies at the very heart of almost every magical process and phenomenon. It is difficult—if not nearly impossible—to escape the influence and presence of numbers in everything around us.
Numbers are everywhere.
They exist in language, in everyday life, in the hour you wake up, the number of buttons on your shirt, and even the day of your death.
There is nothing within the material world—or at least, nothing that can be understood—that is beyond their reach.
And that is precisely why Arithmancy is so important.
A skilled Arithmancer understands numbers and uses them to their advantage, perceiving the delicate threads of chance.
With a proper understanding of Arithmancy, you can make the difficult potion you're brewing easier to prepare, even increase its potency. It can also reveal how a clever and carefully calculated application of numbers can strengthen your spells. For those who truly master it, even the date and time of their own death are no dark or unknowable mystery."
** applause **
"Arithmancy has thousands of applications across every branch of magic, offers countless benefits, and—with very few exceptions—has no drawbacks whatsoever. Though, of course, we must begin with the fundamentals.
Now then... everyone, please take out your Numerology and Grammatica."
Excitement bubbled through the classroom. Even Extimum, despite already possessing a basic understanding of the subject, was no exception, finding himself slightly captivated by the extraordinary picture Professor Sinistra had painted.
For both him and the rest of the class, however, that excitement died rather quickly.
The blackboard soon filled with numbers, and what had started as an intriguing introduction gradually transformed into mathematical operations that seemed to grow more difficult with every page they turned.
This subject was far more than simple mathematics.
Beneath its seemingly straightforward explanations lay concepts that appeared to weave together physics, geometry, trigonometry, and, of course, magic.
And this was only the beginning.
...
By the time Arithmancy finally came to an end, Extimum felt his brain throbbing slightly from the sheer amount of information and exercises Professor Sinistra had poured into them over the course of just two hours.
Judging by the exhausted expressions on the other students leaving the classroom alongside him, it was obvious he wasn't the only one feeling that way.
'It seems either Professor Sinistra has a very unusual way of teaching, or they've changed the curriculum for this subject this year... or sometime during the last two years.'
Arithmancy was one of the subjects he had previously studied while reviewing Hogwarts' curriculum for the first three years, yet what he had learned bore almost no resemblance to what he had seen today.
The material he had studied had focused far more on its practical applications, the role it played across numerous magical disciplines, and a theoretical foundation that he had once considered quite solid.
Professor Sinistra had dismantled nearly all of it in the space of two short hours.
'I suppose I'll have to take this subject a little more seriously.'
Gently massaging his forehead, he spotted Hermione leaving the classroom before making her way briskly towards their meeting place.
He followed behind at a measured distance, unhurried, while trying to stop thinking about numbers.
As he neared the designated corridor, he concealed himself beneath an illusion and waited.
Not long afterward, he watched himself arrive outside the broom cupboard. After glancing around a few times, his other self stepped inside.
'It's rather strange seeing myself like that. I wonder what would happen if I met my past self? Tsk. Better not. At least not for now. If those theories are true, that could become rather troublesome.'
Checking his pocket watch, he waited a few more seconds before approaching the room himself.
He stepped inside to find it empty.
'Now all that's left is to wait for Hermione.'