Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands, The United Kingdom.
Hallowe'en was long gone. Snowflakes drifted gently down from the skies above Hogwarts Castle. December had arrived, and so had the second Sunday of Advent. The Christmas spirit was here. Fredrik and Justin sat in the library, finishing their Herbology homework. Another easy one, in Fredrik's opinion. The plants Professor Sprout had covered were all distinct and oddly charming in their own way, which made it simple to identify the strange fungi and roots used in magical remedies.
''Do you think your parents are going to be okay with it?'' Fredrik asked.
Justin looked up from his parchment, puzzled. ''With what?''
''Staying here,'' Fredrik clarified. ''For Christmas.''
Justin shrugged. ''I don't know. I mean, they said yes. My mum wrote that she was happy that I like the school.''
''That's good, isn't it?''
''Yeah, I think so,'' Justin sighed. ''I don't know, I can tell that they didn't like it.''
Fredrik nodded, then lowered his head over the parchment again. ''You could always talk to Professor Sprout. Say you changed your mind.''
''Nah,'' Justin said, sounding determined. ''I know my parents. They'll come around. I like it here, and I know staying will prove it to them.''
''Couldn't you just… I mean, tell them that you like the school?''
Justin actually laughed at that, loudly enough that a nearby group of third-year Ravenclaws hissed at him in disapproval.
''Sorry,'' he whispered to the third-years, but it didn't sound like he was sorry at all.
Justin turned back to Fredrik. ''Not my dad. He always values action over words.''
''Actions over words?'' echoed Fredrik
''Yeah.''
Fredrik frowned. ''Why?''
Justin gave a little shrug. ''He's a businessman. You know.''
Fredrik hummed, but he didn't really understand it at all. Did his father not trust Justin to tell the truth? Or did he simply not care? He considered asking, but something in Justin's tone made it sound like that was just how things were. Fredrik didn't want to sound stupid. They worked in silence for a while, heads bowed over parchment and ink.
''How did your parents react?'' asked Justin suddenly.
Fredrik's quill froze at the parchment. He lifted his head. ''Sorry?''
''Your parents,'' Justin repeated. ''How did they react when they found out you could do magic?''
Fredrik stared at him. Blinking. Then, slowly, he smiled.
''My dad's happy,'' he answered.
Shards. Blood. Gurgling. ''Patrik! Patrik! Please!''
''My mother's ecstatic, really,'' he continued, voice lighter.
SWISH! ''Mamma!'' BOOM!
''Lucky you,'' Justin said, with a small hint of jealousy.
''Yeah,'' Fredrik replied, still smiling. ''Lucky me,''
They finished not long after and began packing up to leave the library. As they stepped into the corridor, Fredrik caught Madam Pince glaring at him. He winced. Another person he'd have to talk to, eventually. He still hadn't worked up the courage to knock on the half-giant's hut either. And unlike Hagrid, the librarian made no effort to hide her dislike; she watched him like a hawk every time he stepped foot inside the library since the outburst. After Christmas, he told himself.
''So,'' Justin said as they walked through one of Hogwarts' many long corridors, ''what are you doing for Christmas?''
Fredrik thought for a moment. ''I don't actually know,'' he admitted. ''Probably the same as always. Sitting in front of the telly, opening presents.''
He'd gotten a letter from his uncle a few days ago – and with it – bad news. David's family would be travelling for the holidays. Which meant it would just be Fredrik and Anders this year. He was disappointed, but hopefully, he'd at least see David before they left.
''Watch out, Goyle! It's Dumbledore's prodigy!'' a mocking voice rang out.
Fredrik stiffened. He turned toward the sound. Draco Malfoy was striding toward them with his usual pair of sniggering shadows flanking him.
''Leave us alone, Malfoy,'' said Justin.
Malfoy stopped in front of them, frowning slightly as he gave Justin a once-over. ''Who are you again?'' he sneered. The boys at his sides broke into open laughter.
''What do you want?'' Fredrik asked coldly.
Draco smiled innocently. Though Fredrik knew better. It was an innocence wrapped in some smug superiority. ''Coming from the library, were you? I imagine you need all the help you can get. Unlike you, some of us can actually do magic.''
''I can do magic,'' Fredrik snapped. He could, well, the Levitation Charm at least. And Lumos… once. But that didn't matter, the word had spread, apparently. About a muggle student who the Ministry had gotten wrong, who couldn't do any magic. Even though he had, and even though he had shown to his Ravenclaw housemates the Levitation Charm. He didn't even know who started it. Maybe Draco Malfoy was the one? Did it even matter? Soon enough, Fredrik would shut them all up.
Malfoy gasped dramatically. ''No! Please, Master Mudblood! Don't hurt me! Invisible sparkles – what will I be able to do?''
Crabbe and Goyle burst into louder laughter. Fredrik narrowed his eyes.
''Oh, don't be like that, Falkman,'' Malfoy smirked. ''Some wizards are just better than others.''
''On that, we can agree,'' said Fredrik coolly.
Malfoy's smirk faltered. He looked him up and down with disgust. ''Why Hogwarts still lets people like you two inside this school is beyond me. Especially you, Falkman. You couldn't even steal our magic successfully. No matter, my father will see to it.''
With that, the trio walked off. All the while their burning laughter stung like a papercut from behind him.
''Bunch of twats,'' Justin murmured. ''Just ignore them.''
Fredrik gave a small smile and nodded, pretending it didn't rattle him. But it did. Malfoy got under his skin in a way nothing else had before. This was the first time Fredrik had been on the receiving end of real bullying. He wasn't prepared for it, he'd never had to be. And 'just ignoring it' wasn't working.
He found out from Goldstein – as well as the unbearably boring history lessons from Professor Binns – what the root of it all was. It was our origin. The 'blood', as they liked to call it. 'Pureblood', 'halfblood', 'commonblood'. A lot of blood. ''An ancient belief,'' said Professor Binns. Fredrik called it ugly and all too familiar.
It was another crack in the shiny image he'd had of this new world. Another thing no one in this world had warned him about. Not even a mention of it from Flitwick to him or his uncle when he came with the acceptance letter.
He knew what it was, of course. He had seen it before in the 'Muggle' world and heard about it in school and the news. In the new world, it was the blood, in the old one, the colour of the skin.
It only reaffirmed Fredrik's newfound belief that perhaps magical people and normal people were not so different after all.
It was a shattering realisation. One that made him feel not just dumb but angry. Why did he grow up believing in fairy tales? That the people in the new world would be any different?
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A week passed. Then another. Snow crunched under Fredrik's boots as he walked across the platform at Hogsmeade Station and climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express. He hadn't packed much – since he'd be back at the castle soon enough.
This time, he'd learnt from the stress of arriving five minutes before departure. Now, he was one of the first students on the train. It wouldn't move for another forty minutes, but he didn't mind. In his bag, along with a few books, was the a christmas present Justin gave him. Fredrik himself had given Justin a wrapped-up box of Chocolate Frogs, his best guess at a good gift, since his friend had liked them so much on the ride to Hogwarts.
As time passed, he caught the occasional glance from students peering into compartments. None of his Ravenclaw housemates showed up, but he barely noticed. His eyes were most of the time set on the book in his lap. He didn't notice when the train left the station.
He did notice the compartment door opening, though.
A very familiar person peered in, yet unfamiliar at the same time.
''Sorry,'' said the frizzy-haired girl. ''Everywhere else is full. Do you mind if I sit here?''
Fredrik looked up. Hermione Granger. The know-it-all. But there was something different about her now. She looked shy. A trait he'd never associated with her before. When waiting outside with the Ravenclaws for the Transfiguration classroom door to open up or even inside the class, she wouldn't shut up talking to the Potter or Weasley.
He shrugged. ''Sure,''
Granger looked relieved and sat across from him. For a while, there was silence, comfortable for Fredrik. Until he could see her shifting in her seat out of the corner of his eye,
''So, uhm, how are you doing?'' he asked slowly. ''Since…''
Thankfully, he didn't have to finish the question. ''I'm good,'' she said quickly. ''I mean, I'm better.''
Fredrik nodded. ''Heard you tried to take down the troll.''
Her brow furrowed, then cleared. ''Right! I… I was lucky Harry and Ron were there. Honestly, I'd be dead otherwise. They saved me.''
He nodded again, thoughtful. Then kept reading. He'd heard the story, everyone in Hogwarts had. He was surprised, though, to learn Ron Weasley had been one of the two to help her. They clashed constantly in class. Good of him.
Brave too, he was. He and Harry Potter both. Two first-years against a full-grown troll? Fredrik wasn't sure he'd have done the same. Given how much more aggressive British trolls seemed. They clearly hadn't taken Professor Quirrell's advice about recognising when to run. He wondered what the Defence professor had thought of their bravery.
After a while, Granger started rifling through her bag loudly. Fredrik looked up and saw her pull out two presents and a very familiar book.
''Here,'' she blurted out, ''Happy Christmas.''
''Oh,'' he blinked. He hadn't expected anything from anyone other than Justin, especially from her. They'd barely spoken since Hallowe'en. She'd avoided him in the corridors ever since.
''I didn't get you anything,'' he admitted, feeling a bit uncertain.
''That's alright,'' said Granger, before grimacing. ''The other one is from Ron – the poorly wrapped one.''
Fredrik took Weasley's present and inspected it with a frown until realisation dawned on him. ''The cards.''
Granger frowned.
''He wanted a card I had,'' Fredrik explained. ''From the chocolate frogs. On the way to Hogwarts, back in September. I offered it to him, but he insisted we trade. Said I'd get it by Christmas.''
''Oh, I see,'' she said, smiling faintly.
He tucked the gifts and the book into his bag. ''Did you like the book?''
Granger smiled sheepishly. ''I did. Thanks for letting me borrow it.''
Fredrik nodded slowly. Then, after a pause, he asked the same question he had once asked David back in primary school. ''Tell me what you thought about it.''
With David, Fredrik had always been the one to initiate most of the conversation, at least until his friend grew comfortable. But this time, it was different. Hermione Granger lit up in a way he rarely saw in anyone. She spoke so passionately, analysing characters with such intensity that it left Fredrik feeling stunned. It was a children's book. But Christ, she made it sound like it was Shakespeare.
By the time the kind trolley lady opened the compartment door and asked if they wanted anything, a peaceful silence had already settled between them. They read quietly, occasionally politely chatting about school. Fredrik bought a Chocolate Frog. Granger picked a pumpkin pastry. He decided that if the card inside was one he hadn't already been given by the card collector or Justin, he'd take it as a sign to start collecting himself, just like Ron Weasley.
Unfortunately, it was one he already had.
''Who did you get?'' Granger asked, peeking over curiously.
''Dumbledore,'' he answered, offering the card.
She took it, and Fredrik returned to his book. But moments later, Granger let out a sudden, delighted yelp.
''There it is!'' She was staring at the card.
Fredrik glanced up, startled. ''There's what?''
She blinked at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere. ''It's nothing,'' she said with a startled smile. ''just something that I had been working on.''
Fredrik stared at her for a moment, then nodded and went back to reading. He supposed he could relate to that somewhat, finding an answer you had spent some time looking for.
''Do you know anything about Nicolas Flamel?''
When Fredrik looked up again. She was watching him closely.
''Not much,'' he said. ''I know he's an alchemist.''
Granger's eyes widened. ''How do you know that? Did you read it somewhere? Which book?''
He pointed to the Chocolate Frog card in her hand. ''That. Justin got one in September. It says Flamel was Dumbledore's partner or something.''
''Oh,'' she said. She looked clearly disappointed. It made Fredrik frown. Did he say something stupid?
''Are you doing homework on alchemy? I thought that was an elective for sixth years.''
''No, erm, just something I was interested in, is all,'' said Granger quickly, her tone casual.
Fredrik gave a thoughtful hum and returned to his book. She really was a boffin, wasn't she? All she needed was a pair of glasses and she'd have the full package. She was good at magic, though. Spells came easy to her, while Fredrik still struggled. Sure, he didn't have the same problems with magic anymore. Spells came to him now, but all except the Levitation Charm were still weak and fleeting.
A thought struck him then. So far, he had spent most of his free time exploring or trying to fit in with the Ravenclaws, just like Justin with the Hufflepuffs, just like primary school. But this wasn't primary school. Maybe that wasn't enough. Maybe he needed to work, really work. Not just finish homework and shove the book aside. Not just practice spells until they sort of worked. Maybe he needed to be more like Granger with Nicolas Flamel. To read beyond the first year and push himself harder.
Fredrik's eyes narrowed. After Christmas.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Back home in Norwich, things were quiet. Fredrik sat on a snowy hill just beside his old primary school. His butt was starting to go numb. Snowflakes drifted slowly from the darkening sky, and the shouts of children playing around the hill were muffled by the heavy snow.
It was his first day back, and he really should be at home. But being there irritated him in a way he couldn't quite explain. Ever since picking him up at King's Cross, Uncle Anders hadn't once asked about Hogwarts. Not once. It was as if the place didn't exist. Or worse – like the very word had become some curse. Fredrik had tried. He'd brought it up, eager to share what he'd learnt. What he could do. But all he got in return were grunts, hums, shrugs, and a frozen expression.
Back in the Summer, Fredrik knew in every bone in his body that he had to attend Hogwarts. It was the opportunity. The golden ticket. The chance to control this gift. To prove it meant something… that his parents… hadn't died for nothing.
He also knew that uncle Anders didn't like that he was attending Hogwarts, he tried to hide it but did so unbelievably badly. It was the frozen face, the hums and the grunts. Fredrik sighed. He only wished his uncle would someday tell him why. The poorly hidden disapproval was starting to wear him down.
You know why. A sudden thought came. Unwanted. Unbidden. But still there all the same. A lump formed in his stomach. It was a reason he prayed he would never say out loud.
He shook his head, picked up a freshly made snowball, and hurled it across the hill. Uncle Anders didn't think that. He was overreacting. And if it were true, he had seven years to prove otherwise.
He could finally cast a spell. The Levitation Charm was natural to him now, but it had come at a cost. Hours and hours of practice, practice that he was certain no other student at Hogwarts had to do for the spell.
Why was it so hard for him? He didn't hesitate anymore, did he? Goldstein had mastered the Levitation Charm in two weeks, while for Fredrik it had taken almost two months. For Granger, had it even taken a day?
The Lumos had worked once. In Hallowe'en, with Flitwick's lesson still fresh in his mind. But when he'd tried it again a week later, all he got was a flicker. He feared another two months of relentless practice just to properly cast that one, and then it was the Transfiguration spells – more practice. Was he cursed to forever be behind even Neville Longbottom as the last man in their year to finish a practical spell assignment?
''Ello' mate!'' A cheer came from behind.
Fredrik froze. the voice was familiar, could it be? He turned around.
''Dave!'' he gasped, shooting to his feet.
They embraced. He had grown, David. Or maybe it was the haircut, his usual messy curls were now cut short.
''Fuck, Freddie, what are they doing to you at that fancy school?'' David grinned as they pulled apart. ''You look absolutely knackered.''
Fredrik blinked, then laughed. A swear, from David. That was new. ''A lot of studying. What about you? How's secondary school?''
''Rubbish. Better than primary, though,'' David shrugged.
A beat of quiet passed between them as they stood side by side.
''Aaron's replaced you at right mid.''
Fredrik scoffed. ''As if.''
''Nah, mate. I'm serious. Fucking speedy, he is too. Scored a blinder months back. Gaffer's already forgotten you existed.''
David gave him a nudge. Fredrik smirked but felt a small twinge of jealousy. He'd missed this, though. Missed him.
''So,'' David said, ''what's up?''
''What do you mean?''
David rolled his eyes. ''Why are we out here freezing instead of at your place?''
Fredrik shrugged. ''Dunno. Uncle's being pissy.''
''Oh.'' David paused. ''Wanna get out of here? My folks aren't home.''
Fredrik turned to him, tempted. ''Where are they?''
''Nan's,'' David answered. ''They think I'm at yours, you know. Dad dropped me off, and your uncle told me you were up here.''
Fredrik didn't need convincing. He nodded. They started walking away from the hill, toward David's house. The path wasn't long, but it felt even shorter with the stream of catching up that flowed between them.
David had changed. It wasn't just the height. He was more open now, more at ease with himself. And he swore – a lot. He found himself mesmerised by it. Six months, and he was a completely different person. Fredrik didn't mind the change, though. He was fun – funnier.
As they walked, Fredrik found out the reason for this massive change. It was the new school. Still in Norwich, but this time, his parents had chosen one in South Norwich instead of North, where they lived. With Fredrik off to Hogwarts and all their old classmates heading to schools in the North, it had been a fresh start. David had friends now.
Fredrik moved carefully when David asked about his own school. After accepting the Hogwarts offer, the Ministry of Magic had sent both him and Uncle Anders a letter explaining the cover story. Elderglen School, a fictional boarding school a few miles west of Perth. He didn't know the details, but apparently, Whitehall worked with the Magic Ministry on such things.
He wanted to tell David. Badly. Lying to him felt like betrayal. But telling the truth was a literal crime. One that would end with David's memory being wiped and Fredrik expelled or even worse. Funny, how that worked. Telling the truth was illegal. Growing up, Fredrik had always been taught that kind of thing only happened in countries behind the Iron Curtain.
David hadn't questioned it either. Had just nodded and said something like, ''posh Scottish place, huh?'' It made him feel even worse.
It also made him angry. He needed to talk to someone about all this. But Anders was a brick wall, and he couldn't risk David.
Still, it was a welcome distraction. A distraction that would only last one evening. They spent the rest of it just catching up – and for a little while – Fredrik forgot. Forgot the spells, the struggles, and the doubts. He laughed. Really laughed, for the first time in months. But David left the next morning. One night, and then he was gone again. And Fredrik was alone. No one to talk to. No distractions.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺🌍༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Christmas morning was not too different from the morning he awoke to go to Diagon Alley.
Garfield demanding that he wake up before tempting him to go back to bed. A warm shower, longer this time, forty minutes. Then, with an excited smile, he made his way downstairs.
''Happy Christmas, Freddie,'' said Anders from the sofa. He was watching the telly, a smile on his face and a cup of coffee in his hands.
''Happy Christmas,'' Fredrik replied.
Under the Christmas tree lay presents. With a wink from his uncle, Fredrik dove right in to start tearing them apart.
From Weasley, there was no surprise – three Alberic Grunnions cards and one Cliodna card, with a note that wished a happy christmas.
From Granger – he got a book titled Hogwarts: A History.
From Justin – a pack of chocolate frogs.
From his Uncle – a sketchbook. And not just any sketchbook, the high-quality one, along with a full set of new pencils.
''No way!'' He had actually gotten what he wished for. Anders usually said it was too expensive. ''Thank you!'' he beamed.
Anders chuckled. ''You deserve it, son. You've got a gift there, with drawing. Miss Brown wouldn't shut up about it. You keep it up, and you might end up in a top art school someday.''
His face fell. The words were warm, as was the tone. So why did it not make him feel happy or proud as it had before, but irritated?
''What else did you get? From David, I suppose?''
''Haven't opened his yet. The rest are from mates at Hogwarts.''
It was as if the word itself was You-Know-Who. The moment he said it, his uncle's face froze. He hummed and shifted his gaze toward the telly.
Fredrik said nothing, neither did his uncle. But both spent the rest of the day separated. His uncle had come up to his room to watch him draw once, a regretful expression on his face, only for the expression to freeze and him to make his way down the stairs again.
The dinner had been quiet. Anders tried to talk to him multiple times, but this time, it was Fredrik that didn't feel like talking. He felt too angry to talk. It made his uncle sad. After the dinner, Fredrik locked himself up in his room again.
The pencils were amazing, though. Smooth, detailed, and sharp. Easily the best set he'd ever owned. He wondered if he could bring them back with him to school. There were so many scenes at Hogwarts he wanted to capture. By the time the sun dipped low behind the horizon, Fredrik had drawn one of his best portraits yet, a portrait of his wand. He decided only then that he would bring it. He brought comics and Muggle books, after all. Why not this?
Now, he lay on the bed, watching the roof. His mind kept drifting, but eventually, only landed at one thought.
He should've stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas.