"You went to Hufflepuff?"
"You actually went to Hufflepuff?"
"How could you go to Hufflepuff?!"
The witch's moon-white robe shimmered coldly in the firelight as she glared at Adam, her eyes swirling with a storm of emotions.
Her chest heaved with sharp, angry breaths, her shoulders trembling faintly beneath the robe. Her fingers dug into her palms, turning them an unnatural shade of white.
Her usually sleek silver hair was slightly disheveled, strands falling across her forehead. Her elegant face was as cold as frost, her lips pressed into a tight line, and her brow furrowed with icy fury that refused to thaw.
Adam shrank back behind Ariana, clutching her sleeve tightly. He peeked out cautiously from behind her shoulder, his voice trembling.
"Lady Ravenclaw, I swear I didn't know! If you'd told me earlier… I'd be standing here with a blue-and-bronze scarf on, I promise!"
The witch before him was none other than Rowena Ravenclaw herself—the legendary founder of Ravenclaw House, one of the four creators of Hogwarts, and a towering figure in medieval wizarding history who left an indelible mark on the ages.
This great pioneer of magic had guided generations of witches and wizards toward the pursuit of knowledge and truth, embedding her passion for wisdom into the very soul of Ravenclaw House.
Now, her anger twisted into a bitter smile, her lips curling into a strained arc as her words hissed through clenched teeth.
"You called me 'Teacher' before, and now it's 'Lady Ravenclaw'?"
"Sorry, Teacher Rowena, I… I'm just a bit scared," Adam stammered.
He cowered behind Ariana, gripping her arm tightly and raising it like a shield, his voice small and nervous.
Rowena's lips twisted into a pale, taut line. She sank into a chair, head bowed, silent for a long moment as her hair veiled her eyes.
Adam squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable. Seconds ticked by, but no hand reached for his face.
He cautiously peeked out, stealing a glance at the moon-white figure, then ducked back behind Ariana, only his eyes visible as he watched her nervously.
He repeated the motion—head out, head back, out again, back again—his fluffy hair bobbing like a nervous animal.
The figure in the white robe remained still, slumped in the chair as if her spirit had left her, oblivious to the world around her.
Adam crept closer, his voice soft. "Teacher Rowena…"
She turned her face away, staring blankly at the other side of the room.
Adam shuffled to her new line of sight, flashing his most pitiful puppy-dog eyes.
"Teacher Rowena, I know I ended up in Hufflepuff, but it's definitely the Hat's fault. I'm still your little apprentice!"
His words finally cracked her icy facade. She turned slightly, her gaze piercing him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.
"Come here," she said, her voice barely squeezing through her lips.
Adam inched forward, trembling, and closed his eyes, bracing himself.
One breath, two breaths, three…
Just as he peeked one eye open, her hands shot toward his face.
"You don't call me Teacher, and you blame me for not getting that blue-and-bronze scarf? If you cause trouble out there, don't you dare say you're my apprentice!"
She pinched his cheeks until tears welled in his eyes, then let go with a huff, her eyes still smoldering with lingering anger.
Adam rubbed his stinging face, looking up at her with a pitiful, teary expression, only to receive a cold eye-roll in return.
Rowena stood and paced, grabbing a yellowed parchment from the table and slapping it down in front of him.
"No, I'm still furious!"
She glared at Adam as he clutched the parchment, then waved her hand sharply.
"Out!"
…
In an instant, a small black figure shot out of the cottage's chimney, accompanied by a shriek that echoed through the air. The figure traced a wobbly arc before landing with a thud at the base of a snowy mountain, startling a flock of birds into flight.
The commotion caught the attention of a red-haired young man fishing by a nearby lake. He turned, spotted the crumpled figure, and wandered over, curiously poking at it with a stick.
"Stop that!" Adam snapped, swatting the stick away.
"Pfft, haha!" The man burst into laughter. "I haven't seen Rowena this mad in ages. Last time was when Helena broke that crystal ball she treasured."
Godric Gryffindor grinned, pulling Adam to his feet as the boy lay stubbornly on the ground.
"Don't worry, she's not watching you now. I don't sense any magical surveillance."
Adam stood, brushing dirt and grass off himself, and shuffled to the lake to splash cold water on his red, swollen cheeks.
"How'd you manage to get her that angry?" Godric asked, his curiosity relentless as he peppered Adam with the question until the boy, with a sulky expression, recounted what had happened.
Meeting Adam's resentful glare, Godric's face cycled through emotions like a slideshow. He trembled with suppressed laughter, then erupted into a full-blown cackle, collapsing to the ground and pounding the dirt in glee.
It took him a while to stand, still grinning ear to ear.
"Alright… but you really never guessed who she was?"
Adam grabbed the fishing rod and flung it toward the lake, muttering, "I guessed a lot of things—maybe the Lady of the Lake, or some goddess from mythology. But clearly, I missed every single right answer."
Godric clapped him on the shoulder, tearing open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and offering it with a comforting smile.
"Our time was over a thousand years ago. What's written in books is just what later generations guessed about us."
"People see what they want to see. Take Salazar, for example—who'd guess the Slytherin who led others to glory was once a shy, quiet kid?"
Adam turned to him, puzzled. "But I heard you all had a huge fight at Hogwarts, and Salazar left in a rage. Was that all made up too?"
Godric's expression dimmed, his gaze drifting over Adam's shoulder to the shimmering lake. "It was just a difference of ideals. We were always friends."
"He had plenty of chances to shape Hogwarts his way, but in the end, he respected the three of us and our decisions."
Adam nodded, yanking the fishing rod back. The line felt light, and the hook came up empty.
"Come on," Godric said with a grin, pushing the bag of beans closer. "Helga—Hufflepuff's founder—always said the best cure for a bad day is good food."
Adam glanced at the beans, scoffed, and turned away with a smirk.
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Godric asked, half-laughing, half-annoyed.
Adam plucked a bean from the bag and tossed it into the lake. A foul stench rippled across the water, followed by a few stunned fish floating to the surface. The smell—a mix of rotten berries and spoiled meat—was unmistakably dragon dung.
"What's with that look, kid?"
"Don't run! Get back here!"
The birds that had just settled in the trees took flight again as two figures—one big, one small—darted through the snowy forest.
…
"Good morning, Adam. I think your first class today is Potions."