The mirror was tall, framed in gold with fine details. At the top, an inscription read: "Oesed lenoz aro cut edon isara cut se onotse".
Extimum stepped closer after observing it for a moment and looked at himself in it.
There he was, dressed only in a tattered black robe that left his face, hands, and feet uncovered. He was barefoot and, although he had washed, the journey, the crossing of the fire, and the fight had dirtied him once again.
His hair was the only thing that seemed intact. He was surprised it hadn't burned away or been singed after all his "adventures" through the flames. In fact, now that he brought out his tails, he confirmed they were also unharmed; it seemed the natural resistance of his hair and fur was greater than that of his flesh. He didn't check his fox ears since they weren't out at the moment.
When he finished examining himself, he fixed his gaze on what the mirror had to show him.
The scene shifted, and several images began to unfold. First, he saw things he had already expected, then details he had overlooked but now seemed important… and finally, something that left him perplexed.
'What? That makes no sense…'
At first, the mirror showed him in two scenarios that seemed to lead to the same thing: love. Extimum was aware of his inner longing for it, even if his thoughts and feelings on the matter were complicated. Still, like everyone, he also yearned for that affection.
In the first scenario, he was with his family at the mansion, in a warm and homely atmosphere. Sharing and laughing together—the expectation of an ideal family.
In the second, he appeared older, sitting in an armchair in the same mansion. A woman entered through the door; at first her face was blurry, indistinguishable, but little by little, as he tried to make sense of it, it took on Hermione's features. She approached and sat on his lap, hugging him.
Everything seemed normal… until, without realizing it, more figures appeared at his side. Their faces remained blurred, but their closeness was clearly intimate.
That confused him. Did he want more than one partner?
He had never considered that possibility.
For one, he hadn't spent much time in his short life thinking about romantic love, let alone more than one. He didn't understand how such a desire could be in his heart without him knowing. Was it a hint from the mirror? Or was it simply showing options because he hadn't chosen anyone yet?
How could he not know of such a desire if he had it? Wouldn't he at least acknowledge it now?
And it wasn't just a few—did the number mean something? Or was it merely to drive the point home?
He felt that this mirror, which should have served to unveil the secrets of his heart, was instead causing him more doubts due to its ambiguity.
The following visions were easier for him to accept: power, knowledge, and the ability to make any ambition come true. Opening a new path for the wizarding world.
This was easy for him to recognize. He was thrilled by knowledge and magical discovery, and ever since he had heard the ancient history, he had even wished to revive its glory.
But the calm broke when the scene turned dark, almost apocalyptic. He saw himself killing his own parents. Although he felt animosity toward them, he would never kill them. Then, in another scene, he razed everything: treasures, riches, women… even the destruction of the Muggle world.
'Is this thing broken or what?'
Extimum couldn't make sense of these images that were supposed to be projections of his desires.
He didn't hate Muggles or the magical world enough to destroy them, much less betray his friends for power. Dominion was attractive to him, yes, but not in such a brutal manner.
The strangest thing was the sheer number of things the mirror showed him. It was supposed to reflect the deepest desires, and normally a person had one or two clear ones.
'Why does it seem like there are only more questions and problems everywhere? Can't it be simpler?' Extimum brought one hand to the bridge of his nose and frowned.
'Too much trouble… I'd better go.'
He turned to Harry, unconscious on the floor, lifted him with two tails, and placed him in a comfortable position. Seeing no sign of Dumbledore, he put the Philosopher's Stone into Harry's pocket and started to leave.
Halfway, he snapped his fingers: Harry began to float by means of a spell on his clothes, and Extimum retracted his tails.
That was when an old man appeared before him, moving with surprising speed for his age. He wore a red robe, a pointed hat, long silver hair and beard, light skin, and blue eyes that radiated wisdom: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts, better known simply as: Dumbledore.
Dumbledore: "Ah, Extimum, my boy, what an interesting moment for us to meet. However, given the intricacies of this situation, I feel obliged to ask, what has happened here?" Dumbledore began speaking in a familiar manner, like old acquaintances, fully adopting his grandfatherly role.
Extimum: "Yes, it is indeed quite a particular moment, and although explaining it would be simple, given the complexity of the matter, it would be easier if you saw it yourself with magic."
Dumbledore: "I would prefer to hear it from you rather than resort to magic, but since you insist and it seems the greatest danger has passed, I will take your word and relive the moment."
Dumbledore walked a bit further, returning to the scene where Quirrell's ashes lay.
Dumbledore: "Appare Vestigium."
A golden mist covered the place, forming images that displayed the events from when Harry was dragged in front of the mirror. Extimum watched, fascinated—it was the first time he had seen magic related to time.
He had never had the opportunity to study or witness time-related magic until now.
He had heard of it in some stories and found a few references in books, but this was the first time he had seen it in action. He congratulated himself inwardly for suggesting it, allowing him to witness such a spectacle.
Dumbledore: "It is wonderful what we can do with magic."
Extimum: "It is, without a doubt."
Dumbledore: "Well, now that we have clarified the events in great detail, we can take Harry to the infirmary. Although he suffers from no serious symptoms, it would be good for both him and you to have a check-up."
By then, he had already cast several silent spells to check the condition of both Harry and Extimum. After all, as Headmaster, he still had responsibilities regarding student safety.
He felt relieved to confirm that both were fine. Simply exhausted, with minor injuries here and there. The most affected seemed to be Harry Potter, with a slight affliction to his soul, but nothing that wouldn't recover naturally with some rest in the infirmary and medicine.
As they headed toward the exit, Dumbledore took the Philosopher's Stone from Harry's pocket.
Dumbledore: "On some occasions… especially in those… where danger abounds as it did today… it is inevitable that things happen beyond our control and that things are lost. We can only suppose that a certain fraction of the Stone has been lost and hope it ends up in good hands."
Naturally, Dumbledore, as one of the Stone's guardians, noticed the subtle cut on one of its corners, but he decided not to press the matter, trusting it would be used wisely, and let that intention be subtly perceived so Extimum would take it into account.
Extimum was naturally pleased with that arrangement; although he supposed Dumbledore wanted to show goodwill and earn his trust, he had no reason to refuse.
As they continued toward the infirmary, Extimum remembered a question he had wanted to ask Dumbledore if he ever had the chance to meet him. With the agitation of the earlier events and the passing of time, he had almost dismissed it.
Extimum: "Professor Dumbledore, I have a particular question I was wondering if you could answer."
Dumbledore: "As long as it is within my power and does not touch upon matters too delicate, I would be delighted to help you."
Extimum: "Alright, I'm sure it won't be too difficult. It's about a woman, Lauren Enoch, my mother's sister. You must have known her, yet her existence almost seems erased and there don't seem to be many willing to discuss it. Can you tell me about her?"
Dumbledore: "Erased existence? Hmm, I hadn't seen it that way, though it is true that in recent times, no one seems to mention her anymore. Her death was rather unfortunate and mysterious. That said, I can tell you what I know about her.
Lauren was a brilliant and beautiful young woman. She had a kind personality and a pure heart—it was truly commendable. Even if your mother Ava dyed her hair to look the same, you could still tell them apart by the great difference in their characters. She was that special a person.
She was quite skilled in astrology and had made important contributions to the magical community.
From what I understand, she had a very good relationship with her husband and her sister.
Both sisters came from Canada to the United Kingdom at a very young age because they were betrothed to Callum Enoch through a magical contract. The contract was arranged between two branches of your family, and their relationship with him, from their early years at Hogwarts, was always good.
There was speculation about her death, but it was believed to be due to an expedition. At that time, some ancient ruins were discovered, and the Enoch family led the exploration of those ruins along with several others.
Some believe they might have found something there that changed them, or perhaps she was the victim of a powerful curse or ancient poison, although the time of her death was a few months later. It was the only noteworthy event.
On the other hand, many others have gone to those ruins and found no such danger, so it remains speculation. The real cause of her death was never known because your family refused to show her body to the authorities, so only the statement given by your father, Callum, was made public.
That's all I know; I hope it is of help to you."
Extimum: "Well, that was quite enlightening regarding certain matters, thank you."
It notably expanded the information he had compared to what Ollivander had told him and what others were willing to share.
The Hogwarts infirmary occupied a large, elongated hall on the first floor. Tall windows on both sides let in abundant natural light during the day, illuminating rows of neatly aligned beds. Each bed had its own nightstand and was separated from the others by curtains or screens to ensure the patients' privacy. In various corners, several cabinets stored medicines and materials needed for care.
Upon entering, they saw Ron and Hermione sitting, each on a different bed. They had already been treated some time ago; since their injuries were minor, they could leave, but they had stayed to wait for news from Dumbledore.
When they saw them, Hermione and Ron jumped to their feet and ran toward them, their concern evident. They saw Harry unconscious and Extimum wearing only a tattered robe with his bag hanging at his waist.
Extimum hadn't had the chance to change. He had left his bag at the entrance to the black fire corridor, and before retrieving it, he had run into Dumbledore. He wasn't in a hurry: although the robe was uncomfortable and crude, he preferred to wait until he was in the infirmary. Besides, at that hour, there was no risk of other students seeing him.
Ron: "Harry! Extimum!"
Hermione: "Professor Dumbledore, Extimum, are you alright? What happened to Harry? And Professor Quirrell?"
Ron stepped forward, showing his worry. Hermione, for her part, asked the most urgent questions that came to mind.
Dumbledore: "Miss Granger, you can rest assured; we are all fine. Harry here is only unconscious, but there is nothing to be concerned about. As for Extimum, despite his appearance, he has no serious injuries. In any case, they will both be examined by Madam Pomfrey for extra safety."
With his usual calm, Dumbledore managed to make everyone relax. Although he had already checked the condition of both, healing magic was not his specialty, so he left the final word to the mediwitch.
As soon as he finished speaking, Madam Pomfrey, who had been waiting nearby, didn't waste any time.
Pomfrey: "Put the unconscious boy in that bed over there, and you, wait for me in this other room so I can examine you."
She arranged the beds, indicating where to place Harry, and drew the curtains around the area meant for Extimum, knowing he would need to change; it wasn't hard to notice he wore nothing beneath the robe.
Madam Poppy Pomfrey was a woman of a certain age, with brown hair streaked with gray tied in a bun, blue eyes, and fair skin. She wore the traditional nurse's uniform and proudly bore on her chest the medal that certified her as a mediwitch. Her presence combined the kindness of someone who cares with the firmness and seriousness of someone who takes their profession very seriously.
Extimum levitated Harry onto the indicated bed and entered the curtained-off space himself.
Dumbledore: "Well, since everyone is fine, I will take my leave for now to attend to some matters. I will visit you another time."
Hermione and Ron looked as if they wanted to ask more questions, but Madam Pomfrey didn't give them the chance.
Pomfrey: "And you two. Dumbledore and the two patients are now back, and they are under my care. You have already been treated, and I can't have you lingering while I work. So either you sit on the benches without getting in the way, or you return to your dormitory."
With no other choice, Hermione and Ron sat on the waiting benches.
In his small cubicle, Extimum removed the tattered robe and took a spare uniform from his bag. He put it on after quickly checking his physical condition.
'Maybe I should make some time to learn healing magic. Knowing a few inspection spells or ways to treat certain injuries could be more useful than relying solely on potions. The inspection spell I used before was very superficial.'
His regeneration was strong but had limits: it worked well for external wounds but not so much for internal damage, and it didn't help with the loss of limbs. He had never tested his limits to an extreme—he wasn't a masochist, nor was he crazy enough to stab himself just to measure his regeneration—but training with swords and experimenting at home with magic and potions wasn't free of accidents. He knew how far he could push himself, and that was why he dared to charge through the flames: burns to skin and flesh could heal with time… if he could endure the pain.
When he finished dressing, he heard Pomfrey's voice from behind the curtain.
Pomfrey: "Mr. Enoch, may I come in now?"
Extimum: "Go ahead."
Madam Pomfrey entered, drew her wand, and cast several diagnostic spells on Extimum. It was fortunate that, in the wizarding world, they didn't perform blood tests, whether due to the symbolic value of a wizard's blood or simply because other methods were more effective.
A medical examination usually consisted of a series of spells that revealed the condition of different parts of the body. They required solid knowledge of the patient's physiology to know where to cast them and how to interpret the results. They were fairly technical spells.
Extimum already had a rough idea of his condition thanks to his intuition and a basic inspection spell, but it was always better to have an expert's opinion. In truth, what worried him most was his head: he still felt occasional dizziness and nausea after Voldemort's attack.
Pomfrey: "Alright, you don't have any wounds that require immediate attention, only some minor abrasions. On the other hand, you seem dizzy, am I correct? I will give you an elixir that will quickly heal your wounds, and as for your dizziness, it doesn't appear to be from natural causes. I will give you a medicine to help dissipate it, so it would be best for you to spend the night here so I can observe you in case anything happens."
Extimum: "Thank you."
He thanked her sincerely without argument. He was tired. He placed his bag on the nightstand and sat on the bed.
Pomfrey didn't linger any longer and left to fetch the medicine.
Pomfrey: "You may speak with the patient now, but only for an hour; afterward, you must leave. He needs rest, and so do you."
Madam Pomfrey said this as she passed by Hermione and Ron. Since she had already confirmed nothing was seriously wrong, she allowed them to approach.
Hermione and Ron stood immediately, running to Extimum. They wanted to know what had happened.
Ron: "Mate, are you alright?"
Extimum: "Yes, I'm just a bit dizzy, but it's nothing to worry about."
Hermione: "Hmph, it's good that you're fine, but that doesn't excuse you for leaving without telling us."
Ron: "Yeah, you could've left us a note or something."
Extimum: "Oh, but I left you my illusion to accompany you the whole way—wasn't that already a sign of my presence?"
Ron: "Ugh, not exactly… but changing the subject, what happened back there?" Ron felt a bit annoyed remembering the impression he got while passing through the illusion.
Hermione also listened attentively, waiting for him to recount the events.
Extimum: "Well, after I came back, I had to resort to 'special' methods to get through the fire. It wasn't something I could have taken you through, and I wasn't completely sure it would work, so I didn't mention it. After I managed to cross…"
He recounted in detail everything that had happened, omitting, of course, obtaining a piece of the Philosopher's Stone and what he had seen in the mirror.
Hermione: "That was really dangerous. It's lucky no one was seriously hurt."
Ron: "And you say Harry was attacked by You-Know-Who's soul? Will he really be alright?"
Extimum: "He should be. Dumbledore already checked him. Voldemort couldn't do much—he was weak and had to flee."
At that moment, Pomfrey returned, preparing medicines and applying them where needed. Luckily, none of the wounds were below the waist.
They talked a little more, and finally, Madam Pomfrey made them leave so Extimum could sleep.
He was left in darkness within the space enclosed by the curtains. There was a candle on the nightstand, but he didn't bother lighting it.
His mind wandered a bit as he tried to fall asleep. The images from the mirror still played through his thoughts. They didn't particularly disturb him—even if the mirror depicted something real, what happened would still depend entirely on him—but the thought of why such images could represent his desires still left him puzzled.
With those thoughts, he finally drifted off to sleep.
.
The next day, Extimum woke feeling renewed.
The medicine had taken effect: his wounds were healed, and the dizziness had disappeared thanks to the rest.
He put on his uniform and got ready to leave. In moments like this, he was grateful he had learned the "quick bath" spell—it avoided the discomfort of not being able to wash if there wasn't a bath nearby. Still, he preferred a normal bath.
Looking at the bed next to his, he saw Harry was still asleep. He assumed he would remain unconscious for a while longer.
Not wanting to stay there, he headed to the Ravenclaw common room.
It was around 8 a.m. He hadn't gotten up as early as usual, so he only went to collect a few things he had left in his room before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.
As he entered the common room, he noticed that all the students were glancing at him sideways. It had been a while since he had received that kind of attention; only at the start of the school year, when his appearance had sparked curiosity, had he felt something similar.
'Rumors really do fly fast at Hogwarts…'
He ignored the looks and made his way toward his room, only to be stopped by Steve.
Steve: "Hey, you can't just ignore us. The whole school already knows you ended up in the infirmary and were involved in something dangerous—you have to tell me the details."
Indeed, news of his stay in the infirmary alongside Harry had spread quickly. Some students who found out had taken it upon themselves to spread the word, and others, more curious, went looking for details. By morning, several rumors and theories were already circulating.
Extimum: "It's nothing special. I just embarked on a deadly magical game in which I fought monsters, plants, statues of magical knights, crossed a path of fire, and finally killed a professor."
Steve: "Tch… if you didn't want to tell me, you could've just said so. Don't make up nonsense."
Extimum: "… Fine, you're right. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I went to the third-floor forbidden area and fell into some traps. They weren't too dangerous, so in the end, we escaped with some injuries." Since they didn't want the truth, Extimum settled for giving them another version.
In any case, sooner or later they would find out that he had told the truth—it wasn't something that could be easily hidden even if one tried. Although, the way things worked, it was likely that truth would be somewhat altered in the public version.
Mitchell: "What? You went to the third floor even though it was forbidden? And here I thought you were someone who followed the rules."
Extimum: "What exactly made you think that?" Extimum felt a bit puzzled. While he did well in his studies and regularly researched other subjects, he didn't think he gave the impression of being someone who followed the rules.
Mitchell: "Eh… well… you're always studying?"
Extimum: "And?"
Mitchell: "Forget it."
Steve: "Alright, come on, tell me more. I'm sure the whole school wants to know what happened."
Extimum improvised a false story for Steve, and when he left, he told the real version—with some parts omitted—to Trudor, Mitchell, and Padma.
…
The following days, he continued attending classes as usual.
It wasn't until three days after the incident that Harry woke up. He was glad everything had turned out well, thanked Extimum for his help, and asked what had happened after he lost consciousness. Dumbledore appeared then and answered his questions.
As Extimum remembered, Dumbledore had decided together with Nicolas Flamel to destroy the Philosopher's Stone.
As for the one he had kept? He stored it carefully in a box now inside his bag; it was still too soon to study and experiment with it.
Aside from that, he dedicated himself to finishing his project, and a week later, his prototype was finally ready.
That day was today.
He had tested some functions separately while building it, but now it was time to check everything together. He hadn't invited anyone to the debut—there was a risk of explosion, and besides, it would be embarrassing to gather a crowd only for it to fail.
He went to an abandoned classroom, closed the door, and took his prototype out of the bag. It was rustic, but the basic functions were operational.
The current design was a medium-sized book. Each page allowed configuration of different remodeling areas:
- First page: redesign the structure of the room.
- Second page: transfigure materials, limited to stone, wood, and glass.
- Third page: customize design and art. This part had been quite difficult because he had to find a method to infuse thoughts into the book.
- Fourth page: apply basic enchantments to improve the home.
- Fifth page: additional functions for before, during, or after the process.
It was a very complete prototype. With just those five pages, one could easily redesign a room.
But it was lacking in Extimum's vision. His idea was bigger—it had to be able to remodel an entire home.
In theory, it could reshape walls and pillars, change materials, apply a mentalized design, and add basic enchantments. But it couldn't modify an entire house without considering structural aspects such as plumbing, electrical wiring, and so on.
Moreover, the list of materials was far too limited—no matter if he had the material at hand, he couldn't use it—and the enchantments didn't include advanced spells like expansion, durability, repair, anti-apparition, or anti-Muggle charms, only basic ones such as anti-dust.
He also felt there were many inefficiencies and redundancies in the process, even if it worked.But this was just him being too demanding and aiming too high.
His prototype alone, if it worked, could already magically remodel entire rooms far more efficiently than casting multiple spells—it only required having the book and being a wizard.
Looking at the classroom he was in, Extimum looked at the book and poured his magic into it.
The book's cover changed color to reflect the scanned room; it shifted from white to brown. Upon opening it, the first page displayed an architectural plan of the place.
Extimum: "Structure test… correct." He modified a wall to have an opening, and it worked.
Extimum: "Transformation test… correct." He filled the opening in the wall with glass.
Extimum: "Design test… correct." He thought of a design and sent it to the book. The glass acquired a refined carving suitable for a window.
Extimum: "Enchantment test… awaiting verification." He waved his wand, and the surrounding dust flew toward the window. However, it seemed to slide off upon contact, causing it to pile on the floor.
Extimum: "Correct. And extra functions… correct. Excellent." He tested removing the dust pile.
It was easy for a wizard to clean, but he had included that option as a test for other future functions.
Extimum: "Now I just need to figure out how to improve it and add more options—redesigning its function will be for when I know how to do it."
His vision for the idea was much more futuristic and comfortable, but for now, he didn't know how to achieve it. On the other hand, the book had another use Extimum had overlooked.
Given its functions, it was easy to scan a small plot of land and build a house from scratch just by having the materials—or by making the house from dirt or wood from nearby trees. Such a use was implicit in its capabilities, but since Extimum had conceived it for remodeling and improving, he hadn't thought that the word remodel could have more than one application in the runes and could remodel a place even if it had no previous structure.
.
The following days passed in relative calm. Extimum dedicated himself to improving his prototype and spending time with his friends. The end of the school year was approaching, and soon it would be time to go home.
The days went by, and at some point, it was the last day of classes at Hogwarts. Everyone gathered in the Great Hall for the farewell feast and the announcement of the House Cup winners.
Extimum sat at the Ravenclaw table alongside his friends.
** Tin Tin **
Dumbledore: "How time flies… another year has passed, and I believe now is the time to award the House Cup. The points stand as follows: in fourth place, Gryffindor with 312 points; in third, Hufflepuff with 352 points; in second, Slytherin with 472 points; and in first place with 495 points… the house of Ravenclaw."
** Hurrah **
Trudor: "We won!"
Padma: "Well, Extimum earned quite a lot of points for the house this year."
Mitchell: "That's true, although Slytherin had Snape's help, but with Extimum here they can't beat real talent."
Extimum: "Well, it's true I earned quite a few points, but it was thanks to everyone. I couldn't have won that many points on my own—though you can't say the same for Gryffindor, where a few managed to bring them to last place, for now…" He muttered the last part.
Steve: "Hehehe, it's true, being in the same house as Extimum comes with great benefits." He said while rubbing his hands.
** Pah **
Mitchell: "Don't do that, you sound and look creepy." Mitchell smacked Steve on the back.
Steve: "Ah! Damn it, you did that on purpose—why'd you hit me so hard?"
Mitchell: "Well, because I felt like it, of course."
Steve: "You… just wait until we're out of the Great Hall."
Dumbledore: "Well, Ravenclaw really worked hard this year—well done. However, we must take into account the recent events, and I have several additional points to award."
Extimum: 'Come on, I don't think you can actually overtake Ravenclaw… can you?'
Dumbledore: "To Hermione Granger, for her great display of intelligence and ingenuity: 50 points.
To Ronald Weasley, for the best game of wizard chess seen at Hogwarts in many years: 50 points.
To Harry Potter, for his sound judgment and astonishing bravery: 60 points.
It takes courage to stand up to our enemies, but even more to stand up to our friends—10 points to Neville Longbottom.
Finally, I would like to award 50 points to Extimum Enoch, for a great display of skill and boldness in the face of danger, and above all, for his remarkable perception that allowed him to see beyond common sense.
This leaves this year's new standings as follows: in first place, Ravenclaw with 545 points; in second, Gryffindor with 482; in third, Slytherin with 472; and in fourth, Hufflepuff with 352. Therefore, the House Cup for this year… goes to Ravenclaw!"
Extimum: 'Great, I suppose this time I really did beat Gryffindor.'
There wasn't much celebration since the winner didn't change, but the Gryffindors were clearly more than happy to beat Slytherin, and as for Hufflepuff, by this point they didn't have much interest in competing—not that there weren't some brilliant individuals there as well.
It was simply that Gryffindor and Slytherin always gained a huge lead with their relentless rivalry, and Ravenclaw always had those ingenious students who secured nearly all the class points, making it difficult for them to be overtaken without someone outstanding enough to outshine the other houses.
…
Extimum packed all his things into his expandable bag and joined the crowd leaving the castle for the train station.
On the way, he felt someone wrap their arms around his neck.
???: "You're so cold—you didn't even come to say goodbye to me."
Extimum: "I still could've done it on the train. Besides, Tonks, you're still not very good at changing your voice. I can tell it's you just from the way you talk."
Tonks: "You're no fun. On another note, this might be one of the last times we see each other. I've decided to join the Auror Academy, so… if you misbehave, I'll have to arrest you." Tonks spoke in a playful tone, trying to tease Extimum.
Extimum: "Hmm, a tempting idea. I've yet to meet an Auror who dared arrest someone from my family. On the other hand, it would be a good opportunity to practice the latest course I learned about tying knots—with an Auror, no less. Can you imagine having young Auror Tonks tied up in the basement of my mansion?"
Extimum wouldn't let himself be intimidated by Tonks' wordplay, so he replied naturally, making his words sound as if he truly were considering it.
Tonks: "Hii, what kind of things are you learning? And… knots? Are you reading weird stuff? I didn't know you had such peculiar tastes." Tonks jumped back, shivering.
The seriousness and neutrality with which Extimum had said it almost convinced her he was being serious.
Extimum: "Oh, what a shame—it would've been fun to show you." His voice carried apparent disappointment, but then his tone shifted. "I suppose I'll just have to wait for you to come arrest me… or should I send a letter to the Auror Department requesting an escort for my safety and say I'd prefer someone close to my age—or, I don't know, maybe someone I know?"
Tonks: "Alright, alright, you win. I won't bother you anymore. Hmph… but you're not actually going to send that letter, right?" She asked cautiously.
Extimum: "… Unless you want me to?" He gave her a blank look—he had only said the first thing that came to mind, but she seemed rather cautious and convinced he might do it.
Tonks: "No, of course not. Well, I think I saw one of my friends—bye."
Tonks quickly escaped, not wanting to stay and be teased any longer.
Extimum: "Heh, that's what you get for trying to mess with me—maybe I really will do it if I want to say hello later."
Tonks heard his comment and hurried off even faster.
Though he'd said it as a joke, in fact, his family's political power would allow him to make such a request—asking for an Auror for his protection, especially a rookie, in peacetime wouldn't be a problem for the Ministry.
If Tonks did pass the exams and became an Auror, being sent to protect him would be entirely plausible. Still, he had no actual intention of doing it.
After the encounter with Tonks, he greeted other acquaintances on his way to the station and finally boarded the train bound for London.