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"Thomas." Silas greeted his fellow Slytherin by surname.
"Abbott." The now identified Thomas replied in kind.
"We don't have time for your stupidity right now." Aidan was quick to speak, not caring about decorum. "So take your goons and get lost, Albert."
"Oh, you wound me, Lord Haimadros. Truly, I'm hurt." The irreverent Slytherin said, his goons grinning in amusement. "I just approached to let you know that I know who you are, Low-key Prince of theCrows."
With those ominous words, Albert Thomas —bully extraordinaire— left the scene. It left a bitter taste in their mouths, especially for Aidan, since he realised that whatever plans he had made were based on naivete. It made sense. He wanted to reveal his existence on his own terms, but he went around telling people his surname had changed. He had even had the confidence to reveal it in the Prefect carriage, which had at least four descendants of pureblood families.
"I'm so stupid." Aidan thought out loud.
"Yes, you are." Silas replied. "Honestly, for how smart you are, you are seriously naive and stupid."
"Or maybe you are overconfident." He continued berating Aidan, then offered his friend a warm smile. "Good thing I'm your friend —otherwise your own stupidity would've ruined you by now."
*
Aidan rubbed his temples and exhaled. "Alright. Here's the short version."
He looked between the two. "I got a letter on my birthday —one that was left with me when I was left at the orphanage. Turns out I'm the heir to an ancient House from Greek origin. I claimed the inheritance, put on the Ring of Lordship, and… well, my magic didn't exactly take it calmly."
Alva raised an eyebrow, but Aidan continued before she could interrupt.
"It mutated. Changed me." He said while pointing at his red eye. "It even broke the bond with my old wand. Then there was a puzzle in my Ancestral Vault —Greek runes, emotional legacy, all that. It led me to out Ancestral Home, Crimsonveil Manor."
"There I found Morgott." He added, almost as an afterthought. "You already know him. He was waiting for me at the manor. I woke him."
He leaned back on his hands, expression unreadable. "That's the gist of it. I left a few things out, but… that's the foundation."
"You've had an... eventful holiday." Silas commented with an awkward expression on his face.
Alva, on the other hand, decided her curiosity wanted more.
"And what about the spell you used against that creature?" She asked, not caring if he had intentionally omitted it or not.
"You know I will drown you in questions as vengeance, right?" Aidan asked in an attempt she was sure she wanted to know more. He had no qualms with telling Silas, but she was a different story.
"I'm ready for the consequences of my actions." Alva replied pragmatically.
Aidan groaned. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."
He glanced around the courtyard before lowering his voice. "It was blood magic."
Silas blinked. "What do you mean by blood magic?"
"Exactly what I said. It's not the kind of thing you learn in class or find in a library. It's tied to the Haimadros line —to me." His tone wasn't boastful nor resigned, just factual. "The spell I used conjured blood chains, stronger than any Incarcerous."
Alva leaned back slightly, processing the revelation. Aidan was done playing fair with her, so he focused on her emotions for a moment and was extremely surprised by what he found —familiarity. "So that's what is was..."
"Yes. Not exactly subtle by the way." Aidan said dryly. "Trust me, I'm still working out what's safe and what isn't."
"So." Silas began slowly. "You've inherited a lost magical legacy, a loyal shadow-beast, and powers you barely understand."
Aidan gave him a flat look. "Yes. And I still have to revise for Charms."
"And now it's Alva's turn." He added, irritation threading his voice as he looked at her. While he trusted her to some extent, being this vulnerable without knowing much about her made him angry.
Alva took a slow breath, steadying the nerves twisting in her stomach. She had promised, and Aidan had kept his word —it was her turn now. But laying herself bare wasn't easy. Her past was tangled in expectations, silence, and choices she still questioned. The urge to deflect pulled at her thoughts incessantly, but so did the need to be seen —truly seen— by people she was beginning to trust. She clenched her hands, forcing her walls down one brick at a time. No more hiding. If they were to be allies, they deserved to know who she really was.
"Let's start by my surname..."
*
Aidan and Silas were shocked by Alva's story. Not because it was deeply traumatising or emotionally rich, but because of how similar and dissimilar it was to Aidan's. Where he had been left in an orphanage, she had been raised by her biological parents. While he had only discovered his magical heritage at seventeen, she had been taught about it her entire life.
They were polar opposites, sitting on the same side of a coin.
Alva Íkornsdóttir came from one of the oldest known magical families in Sweden, renowned for their mastery of whisper magic —a branch unique to House Íkorn, focused on magical communication, illusion-weaving, and message-binding. In many ways, they were remarkably similar to House Haimadros —though the trio had no idea just how deep those similarities ran.
Apparently, her family's magic was part of the reason she had never fit in at Durmstrang. Had their magic been revealed, she was certain the school's obsession with the Dark Arts would have tainted their legacy. That, of course, mixed poorly with the fact that it was a male-dominated institution —and Alva was a very beautiful girl.
Or so she had told them. Aidan wanted to trust her wholeheartedly —he truly did. But something in him whispered that there was more she wasn't saying. So, once more, he focused on her emotions, trying to delve deeper than before —searching for something she felt without even realising it.
And he found it. A small, barely-there thread of something he couldn't quite explain. Regret. As if she wanted to tell them more, but felt she couldn't.
Aidan wasn't one to press. He didn't enjoy digging through old wounds. But he made a decision in that moment.
Somehow, he would uncover whatever it was Alva Íkornsdóttir was keeping to herself.And maybe, just maybe, he would share what he had kept buried too.