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blue-bujo · 6 days

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Hogwarts Legacy: Hiding in Herbology

Summary: Elizabeth Shallowbrook, now in her seventh year at Hogwarts, is taking refuge in the greenhouse basement after receiving a letter from her mother when her sulking is interrupted by the potions professor, coming to gather ingredients from storage.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Family drama, old injuries, scars, physical contact between teacher and student (platonic)

Author’s note: This is a follow up to my first HL fic, Care of a Magical Creature, but can be read separately. MC is a Ravenclaw.

Elizabeth Shallowbrook, now in her seventh year at Hogwarts and finally caught up in her studies, was hiding in the Herbology Basement, sitting in the water-filtered light of the submerged tank of tree roots. It was dim, and quiet, and one of her favorite places in the castle because it was almost always empty. Professor Garlick mainly used it for storage, and had recommended it as a good place to be alone during an extra assignment the previous year. The herbology professor also, very sweetly, tried to discourage other students from using the space when she knew Elizabeth was down there, for which the Ravenclaw was immensely thankful. She quickly began frequenting it when her schoolmates started hailing her as the Hero of Hogwarts. It was easier to be normal when she was alone.

The school year had only just started, but she had already spent a fair amount of time in the dimly-lit basement. She needed the distance, after an uncomfortable summer in her mother’s house in London. Mrs. Shallowbrook had never been very maternal, or taken much interest in her only child, but for whatever reason, she’d been intent on transforming her into a proper Victorian lady during the span of the break. Elizabeth had never hated being the center of her mother’s attention before, but she’d learned to after being stuffed into stays and paraded through society for two months.

The more she’d thought about it, the more she was certain that there’d been an ulterior motive. September hadn’t been able to come fast enough. But the Ravenclaw tried to please her mother, and wrote her regularly when the term started and she’d been able to escape. She’d even adopted an owl, a funny barred owl that she’d named Hermod, after the swift messenger god in Norse mythology. The large bird zipped back and forth between Hogwarts and London for the first three weeks of term, until one day he returned from a delivery with empty talons, and then a second time.

It was now a few days past Hallowe’en, and Elizabeth was sheltering in her spot. Hermod had finally returned with a letter, and she was trying to discern her feelings on it. It was dark outside, nearly time for curfew, but she wasn’t ready to face humanity yet. As usual, her mother’s words had cut her deeply with their carelessness.

The young witch was of-age now; she was frustrated with herself for caring. She knew better than that, especially after being raised in that environment. She knew her mother was a cold, jaded woman. She shouldn’t have been surprised.

Elizabeth was deep in her thoughts, so she didn’t notice at first that someone was approaching. It wasn’t until she heard a heavy step on the stairs leading down to her from the greenhouses that she realized. It didn’t advance for a few seconds, but when it did, it came unevenly. A moment later, a familiar pair of braced boots limped into view, and the girl sat up straight.

She was comfortable with Professor Sharp – he’d been there for her after the goblin rebellion, his similar history making him the only one who’d been able to truly understand – but she didn’t want him to see her like this, moping over a sheet of parchment. It was embarrassing how many times he’d seen her upset. He’d told her that she could come to him, and welcomed her whenever she did. They’d shared meals for two months of an unofficial detention when she’d been tutoring a first-year for him. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her company, though he pretended to merely tolerate it.

So why was she so uncomfortable with the idea of being seen by him now?

Because he doesn’t need to be burdened with this, said the harsh voice in the back of her mind. He has enough of his own problems without adding your petty little ones.

“Ah, Miss Shallowbrook! Forgive me, I didn’t mean to intrude,” called the professor, pulling her from her thoughts as he rounded the bottom of the staircase and she came into his view.

“Hello, sir,” she replied. She willed a smile onto her face as she rose. Better not to let him see the hurt that her mother’s letter had caused. “It’s odd to see you out of the dungeons.”

Elizabeth assumed, as did most of the students, that the potions master rarely ventured out of his classroom because of the hundreds of stairs one had to climb to navigate the castle, and the difficulty that his injury added to the task. Indeed, tonight he was hiding a cane behind his leg as he stood on the landing regarding her.

He only scanned her for a moment before he sighed and limped closer. She could see just how heavily he was favoring his left leg tonight; it didn’t seem like he could straighten it, and he only hobbled a few steps before he decided to stop hiding the cane in favor of leaning heavily upon it.

“Professor Garlick and I have an arrangement,” he explained as he squeezed past and sank gratefully onto the bench. “She lets me use any excess materials that she and her classes harvest to restock my stores. Normally she brings it, but she had an engagement tonight and I found a majority of my stock is low, so I told her not to trouble herself and that I would pick it up. However, I find myself wishing now that I had waited before making that commitment.”

The girl watched as he carefully stretched out his leg – it still wasn’t straightening – and pressed his knuckles into it. He was in pain, more than usual.

“Why do you wish you’d waited?” she asked.

“Hmph. One of my third-years has recently learned the Tripping Jinx, and was practicing it during class this afternoon. Suffice it to say that Ravenclaw lost a good amount of house points today. You have your housemates to blame for that; they can be a devious bunch. But by the time that class had started, I had already told Professor Garlick that I’d pick up the ingredients.”

By Merlin, the man was proud. He was hurt, even more so than he normally was, but he wouldn’t ask for help when he’d already said that he would be okay doing something. Elizabeth was beginning to forget her mother’s letter; she was falling back into her old pattern of putting others’ needs at a higher value than her own.

“You could have asked me. I would’ve brought them for you. I’m down here all the time.”

“I didn’t know this was one of your haunts. Besides, I am perfectly capable of managing. I just need a moment.”

They both fell silent. The Ravenclaw glanced furtively at her letter, on the same bench as her professor, and prayed that he wouldn’t notice it. He was occupied for now, but he was as sharp as his name; she had to distract him, do something.

The discomfort on his face gave her an idea. She unslung her bag from her shoulder and plopped it onto the bench, on top of her letter, before she threw back the flap and had a rummage through her things. Once she found a vial of Wigginweld potion, she fished it out and held it out for him.

Professor Sharp scowled at her. “Miss Shallowbrook, I appreciate the gesture, but I’ll be fine in a moment.”

“You aren’t fine now,” she argued. “I’ve never seen you use your cane before, and I can see how pained your movements are. You’ve told me before that my potions are textbook quality, so please, take it.”

“Very well.”

Begrudgingly, the potions master took the offered vial. He held it up to the light to check its consistency, like at the end of a class when assignments were turned in, before popped off the stopper and gulped it back in one swallow. The furrow between his brows became less severe as the Wigginweld took effect. Then he gave his student an approving, almost proud gaze as she closed her bag and scooped it up, trying to sneakily retrieve her letter in the same movement.

“Top marks, Miss Shallowbrook. I’d be hard-pressed to make a better batch myself.”

“Thank you, Professor,” smiled Elizabeth. “I’ve had a lot of practice with this particular potion.”

It was meant as a joke, a reference to her fifth- and sixth-years spent running all over the valley fighting Ashwinders, poachers, and loyalists, but Sharp didn’t find it amusing. It only seemed to make him more vigilant.

“I wish you hadn’t had to make so many batches, but I am glad that your adventures gave you the opportunity to practice. And speaking of your adventures, you’re out dangerously close to your curfew tonight. I hope I’m not going to have to start giving you tutoring assignments again to keep you where you’re supposed to be?”

Elizabeth felt her heart rate quicken anxiously under his questioning. She didn’t want to disappoint her favorite professor. Gripping her bag tighter, she shook her head. “I’ll have time to get back to the common room if I hurry. I’ll get going.”

It was the man’s turn to shake his head. “No, stay a moment. I… may need some help with collecting everything that Professor Garlick left me, and I can see you’re upset.”

“Okay.”

“I can also see the parchment you’re trying to hid, you know. You’ll have to be sneakier than that if you want to fool an auror.”

“Merlin’s beard,” the young woman groaned. “I thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“Most people wouldn’t have,” he conceded, “and distracting me with the potion was a nice touch. Please sit.”

Elizabeth dropped her bag on the ground and sat down next to her professor. She kept hold of the letter, feeling embarrassed. She knew by now that Professor Sharp was far from a threat, and she did trust him with her life. She didn’t want to admit it, but she almost saw him as a parent, ever since she had broken down in his office last year. He had definitely become a mentor to her after she’d lost Professor Fig. But she was emotional after reading her mother’s words, and not in the mood to share. The man sitting quietly beside her was in pain, and didn’t need her problems.

He seemed content to sit, which only made Elizabeth more uncomfortable. She hated when people waited for her to speak; it was a trick that a lot of the faculty used to force engagement in their classes.

“Don’t you professors know how much we hate it when you wait silently for an answer?” she demanded, irritated.

Sharp’s low chuckle only irritated her further. “We do. Students would rather speak publicly than endure an awkward silence, which is why it’s so effective. Although you tend to be more immune to it than your classmates. Why is tonight an exception?”

He’d asked. Now she had to tell him. Waving the parchment, she grumbled, “My mother wrote me. Finally.”

“Ah.” The potions master nodded. “And you didn’t like the contents of her letter.”

“No, I did not,” scoffed the Ravenclaw. “My mother has a way of choosing exactly the right words to aggravate me, and make it my fault that I’m aggravated. She never has any guilt in the matter.”

“Families can have a way of allowing gnomes in the garden,” the man said evenly. “Those little niggling issues multiply until you have an infestation. Even my own mother had her moments, rest her soul, and she had the patience of a saint to put up with my father and I both being aurors. I would hope yours doesn’t mean to antagonize you intentionally.”

Darkly, Elizabeth replied, “You don’t know Emelia Shallowbrook. My mother could make a frost salamander seem warm.”

The witch stood abruptly and started pacing, being far too riled to sit any longer. The letter was stuffed unceremoniously into her robe pocket.

“I really tried to be a good daughter this summer. I was introduced to society, and she showed me off all season, trying to marry me off to a respectable muggle, and I endured it. But then she cut me off last month, stopped sending me letters completely.”

“But you received a letter today?” prompted her teacher.

“Yes. Telling me that she’s being courted again.”

“Courted?”

Elizabeth could feel the unasked question hanging heavy in the air around them. She hadn’t told anybody but Natty, Sebastian, and Ominis about her father, John Shallowbrook. But Professor Sharp needed to be told so that he had the context for this conversation, and he’d revealed a detail of his personal life, that his own mother had passed. It was only fair.

“My father was drowned when I was eight, before my magic emerged,” she sighed. “He ran a shipping company on the Thames, and there was an accident in the fog one night when two of the barges collided. Mother loved him, and married well below her station to be with him, and I think she’s always regretted it. She was never warm or maternal, only jaded and distant, and it got a lot worse after the accident. I was always closer to Father; he was where I could go to feel loved.

“I thought maybe, when she finally took an interest in me this summer, that she had finally found her heart again. But now I know that she was just trying to make me into a proper lady to keep me from scaring off her suiter.”

Suddenly, she was so tired, and overwhelmed. There was a reason she tried not to think about her family. She sat back down next to Professor Sharp, flopping herself onto the stone bench with a huff. He raised an eyebrow at her – whether questioning her behavior or her willingness to keep talking, she wasn’t sure. Or maybe she hadn’t left enough space between the two of them; she couldn’t read him or his silence. Elizabeth was determined, however, not to be the first to speak this time.

Eventually she heard her teacher release a neutral “hmm,” as he so often did. She turned her head to regard him, and he held out a hand.

“May I see this letter? That I may better understand?”

“I… well, I supposed there’s nothing private in it. Okay.”

The Ravenclaw pulled her now-crumpled note out of her pocket and handed it to Professor Sharp. It felt incredibly vulnerable, letting him read it, and she found herself clasping her hands as he took it. Thankfully, nothing ever escaped his notice, and he saw the nervous gesture.

“If you need something to do while I read this, you can start gathering the ingredients that Professor Garlick has left me. She typically boxes them and stores them on the shelf opposite us. I won’t be long.”

While Sharp read, Elizabeth carefully lowered the boxes he’d described from an overhead shelf and set them, six in all, in two neat stacks on the floor. She didn’t use magic, but did the task the muggle way, to make it last longer, and to try to distract herself from the disappointed tutting sounds that her mother’s letter was causing to issue from the ex-auror.

As she was dusting her hands off from handling the last box, her professor evidently finished reading. He stood up carefully, leaning heavily on the cane, before hobbling to her, her letter in his outstretched hand. She took it back silently.

“You underplayed your mother’s venom, Miss Shallowbrook. That felt intentionally divisive.”

“Glad to know I’m not overreacting, then,” Elizabeth said sarcastically. “So you saw that she was asking me to stop owling her until her beau could get used to the idea of me being an ungodly witch?”

He nodded. “He sounds pretentiously religious. I apologize that you have to endure that from your own mother.”

“It’s all right,” she mumbled. “At least I’m not in that house anymore.”

“True. Have you considered speaking to Mr Gaunt about this?”

“Why does everybody ask me if I talk to Ominis about things? I have other friends, too!”

Elizabeth usually tried to remain neutral about the Slytherin, but she knew that her tone betrayed her tonight. She and Ominis were more than close friends, but they both wanted their privacy, for multiple reasons. It was probably noticeable that they had started sharing an interest in each other. Not courting of course, not yet, but…

Professor Sharp was looking down at her, giving her a disbelieving expression, one eyebrow arched.

“Miss Shallowbrook. As the bearer of a facial scar over your eye, as I am, you of all people should know that it does not render one blind. Anybody with any sense can see that you favor each other. I’ve had my suspicions since your first year.” He paused, took a step back, and pulled the handle from his cane to remove his wand before reassembling the walking stick. “Come, we’ll take these back to my office now. Walk with me.”

He cast Wingardium Leviosa on one of the two stacks of boxes before mounting the stairs to exit the Herbology Basement. The Ravenclaw followed suit, focusing intently on her slow ascent behind him and not dropping the other stack of ingredients.

As he climbed, the ex-auror continued their conversation. “I brought up Mr Gaunt because he has experience with venomous parents. The House of Guant is widely regarded as one of the crueler pureblood families, as I’m sure you already know.”

“And is that the only reason that you brought him up?” challenged Elizabeth. She would have pushed further, but between climbing the stairs, levitating the boxes, and trying to start an argument, she very nearly lost control of her spell. The boxes rattled precariously.

Sharp, now at the top of the stairs, watched as she struggled. “Focus. Practice keeping the largest part of your concentration on your spellcasting, and let the smaller part of your brain handle conversation.

“And to answer your question, the pair of you seem good for each other. Mr Gaunt fairs much better in my class with you working beside him, and you seem as though you feel safer. If throwing the two of you into each other’s paths benefits you, then far be it from me not to do so.” His face wasn’t visible as he was walking in front, but the smirk was evident in his voice.

“Professor Sharp, are you admitting that you play matchmaker with your students?” teased the witch.

“I said nothing of the sort,” he puffed, now tackling the second flight of stairs, which led into the Central Hall. “At least, not directly. Keeping up with a few hundred students’ crushes would be an exhausting waste of resources. I leave that up to Garlick and Ronen.”

He fell silent as he climbed the rest of the steps, except for one or two pained grunts towards the top. Once he reached the landing, he looked at her, and the Ravenclaw was surprised by the softness in his dark eyes.

“However, for certain students – which may or may not be favorites – I take notice of what makes them happy, and might push them in that direction from time to time.”

Elizabeth felt herself grinning, powerless to stop. “I’m one of your favorite students?”

“I never said anything of that sort directly, either. Now, do keep up,” he ordered ironically. They both knew that she was holding back to match his pace, even concentrating this long on maintaining Wingardium Leviosa.

They slowly crossed the Central Hall together, levitating their boxes of ingredients before them. Sharp grumbled about the wretched, unnecessary split-level design of the hall and the two extra staircases that it forced him to traverse, while Elizabeth pondered their interaction. Her mother’s letter was still burning a hole in her pocket, but she was hardly upset about it. Instead, she felt similar to how she’d felt after her breakdown in the Potions classroom last year. Her emotions left her exhausted, almost numb, but she was safe and protected while she recovered from them. Professor Sharp makes me feel like Father used to, she realized. Valued and cared for. He gets me.

“I supposed I can talk to Ominis about all of this,” she admitted as they reached the classroom. “It couldn’t hurt.”

“Asking for help never does,” the man agreed sagely.

He opened the door for her and extended his spell to take her boxes from her, before wordlessly sending all six of them into his office to put themselves away. The Ravenclaw looked at him, trying to be cross.

“You didn’t need help,” she challenged.

“No,” he replied, “but you did.”

Elizabeth rubbed the back of her arm. She didn’t like how easily he’d read her; it was embarrassing.

“Don’t feel bad. I only wanted to help you if I could. You’d best get to bed now, as it’s past curfew. If you take the Floo back to your common room, you should be able to avoid the prefects.”

Sharp summoned a small container of Floo powder and pressed it into her hand. Elizabeth grabbed his fingers before he could let go and gave them a squeeze.

“Thank you for always being here for me,” she murmured.

After a moment, he awkwardly squeezed back. “You’re most welcome. Now, run along, Miss Shallowbrook. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

She slipped away to the Floo grate, avoiding the portrait of Lethia Burbley and holding a finger over her mouth to shush Ignatia Wildsmith. The letter stayed tucked in the pocket of her robes, even after she changed into her nightdress and chatted with Samantha Dale about their arithmancy homework. Professor Sharp, by accepting her emotion and showing her that it could be reframed, had helped calm her. Her mother was all the way in London, while her friends were here at Hogwarts. She could seek their company instead of having hers spurned by Mrs Shallowbrook, starting in the morning. Before she went to bed, she sent Hermod to the Slytherin dungeons with a note, to ask a certain classmate to meet her early for breakfast before potions.

The next morning, Elizabeth walked into Professor Sharp’s classroom leading Ominis, the pair of them arm in arm as the Ravenclaw navigated to their usual seats. After the potions master’s brief lecture, they murmured quietly to each other while they brewed. They’d been talking all morning, and the young wizard had no end of pointers for dealing with a distant, disinterested family.

She soaked up his words and his attention. It was almost the end of class before Elizabeth looked up at her teacher, having had her focus drawn by the throat clearing he was doing. When she met Sharp’s eye, he was wearing the smuggest – yet proudest – smirk. Then he limped back to his desk, having said everything he’d wanted to say with just that expression.

When it came time to bottle their yields, the witch found a way to deep clean her brewing station so that she was the last student in the classroom. She gathered her belongings and approached the professor’s desk, handing over her bottled potion for his critique.

Holding it up to the light, Sharp smiled. “Excellent as usual, Miss Shallowbrook. Well done today. And I don’t just mean on your assignment; I’m proud that you chose to share your situation with Mr Gaunt.”

“You just say that because I followed your advice.”

“Perhaps. But then again, perhaps not. I’m always proud of you, provided you’re not doing anything foolish.”

Elizabeth blushed under the praise. “Thank you. You’ve been more supportive than anybody else has since… well, since Father died.” This was deeper than she’d meant to go, but it had come out surprisingly easily. “Even Professor Fig had his motivations for supporting me, but I don’t feel that from you, and I appreciate that.”

It was the man’s turn to shift uncomfortably. He grumbled something unintelligible before saying, “Being compared to your father is high praise, which I don’t know that I deserve, but thank you. As aways, if you need me, I shall be here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Yes, well. I’m sure you don’t want to be late for your next class. Run along.”

She smiled at him before following his directions and jogging upstairs to meet Samantha for Arithmancy.

#my writing #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy mc #mc elizabeth shallowbrook #ravenclaw #professor sharp #aesop sharp #no editing we die like men

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blue-bujo · 15 days

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Hogwarts Legacy: Care of a Magical Creature

Summary: Professor Sharp finds the Hero of Hogwarts, Elizabeth Shallowbrook, in his classroom one night, overwhelmed by the expectations that her heroics during the previous year have wrought.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Mental health struggles, old injuries, scars, physical contact between teacher and student (platonic)

Author's note at the end!

Professor Sharp may have retired his badge years ago, but his old auror habits were never permitted to weaken. Especially after the events under the castle during the previous year. Aesop had not anticipated ever seeing action again, especially not at Hogwarts, and while a part of him had thrilled to brandish his wand once more in battle, he was determined that his students and colleagues should never have to face such dangers again.

Which was why, when he approached his classroom well before dawn one morning to retrieve some Murtlap essence to numb his leg and saw a faint flickering light bleeding under the door, his hackles raised. He kept his door fastened with the strongest locking charm he knew, to keep out the Gareth Weasleys of the world, and he knew he’d extinguished all of the candles and brewing stations when he’d left the previous evening. Though he had been drowsy upon approaching his door – being kept awake all night by chronic pain, and a mind fixated on how to save a dismal student’s grades in the last two months of the school year, had that effect – he was almost instantly alert at the prospect of catching a student raiding his classroom. Silently, he drew his wand and reached for the door handle.

The door was locked.

Aesop narrowed his eyes. Normally, when students were foolish enough to raid his stores, they forgot to lock the door behind them while they were inside. Whoever was inside now was smarter than average. They had only locked it manually by turning the bolt, which he easily reversed with a quick “Alohamora,” but still. The potions master then disillusioned himself and slipped inside.

As quietly as he was able, he advanced through the classroom, wand still drawn. The lock was still on his office door, so whoever had entered hadn’t needed ingredients. None of the visible brewing stations were lit, either; the intruder was using one of the ones down the right-hand wing, by one of the blackboards. As Sharp shuffled forward, the last station came into view, and its user.

The man, still effectively invisible, stopped to observe his intruder. It was Miss Shallowbrook, the now-sixth-year. He wasn’t surprised now that the door had been locked; she was perhaps his brightest student, and exemplified the wit and wisdom that her house so valued, more than any other Ravenclaw he’d taught. It had been remarkable how easily she had made up four years of study and passed her fifth-year and O.W.L.s near the top of her class, especially now that the faculty knew about all of the extracurricular activities she’d been pursuing on top of it. Miss Shallowbrook had saved the school, and had had to grow up quickly to manage it.

Aesop was proud of all his students, but he was especially proud of her. The young woman would have a bright future ahead of her no matter which path she chose to follow. Right now, she had all four cauldrons at her station going, and was bustling between them. From the look of it, she had multiple recipes going, too, something even he tried to avoid doing. Having too many different brews going at once was asking for disaster, as not even the most masterful potioneers were above distraction.

Continuing his silent watch, the professor moved his focus from the potions to the Ravenclaw. Miss Shallowbrook had survived the battle with Ranrok, but it had altered her. Losing Eleazar Fig, her mentor and the man who’d brought her into the wizarding world, in her arms… Sharp knew that pain better than most, and understood why she had withdrawn. Before, during her first year, at Hogwarts, she’d been exuberant in dress and manner, having finally found the world in which she belonged. Now she was quiet, and seemed to be trying to blend into the castle walls by only wearing dark, neutral clothing. She had a tendence to hide behind her hair, which was short enough to fall from behind her shoulders and into her face whenever she looked down, which she now always did.

Aesop could see just how dark the shadows under her blue eyes were, how loosely her clothing hung on her, and how fatigued her movements were. Her glasses were sliding off her face and her hair had nearly doubled in size from the steam that her four cauldrons had produced. She looked a mess, and the man could empathize; she’d been through and lost so much, but she had to somehow continue on, because life wouldn’t stop to wait for her. It hadn’t for him, after his injury. At least she was keeping herself busy, although he didn’t know why. He certainly hadn’t assigned that many brews as homework, yet there she was, brewing like her life depended on it.

When her back was to him, Sharp intended to start moving closer. But on taking a step, and having to put his weight on his damaged leg, it locked painfully. He swallowed the groan that his body reflexively tried to make, and reached one of his long arms out to steady himself on a nearby blackboard. He wasn’t prepared for the moment, or graceful in his rush to take his weight back off of the offending limb, and so he grabbed at the blackboard roughly enough that it scraped noisily against the stone floor. Blasted thing!

Miss Shallowbrook whirled around instinctively at the sound, wand raised. Her eyes wild, she shouted “Diffindo!” at the spot where her professor was concealed. How ironic that she chose the spell he had taught her in this very room, the one that he’d warned her was effective but dangerous.

Aesop reacted, shielding himself with Protego and dropping his disillusionment immediately after, so that the young woman could see him clutching at the blackboard. Her face paled when she realized she’d attacked a teacher.

“Professor Sharp! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know anybody was there, or I wouldn’t have done that, I swear!”

Sharp put out a hand to hopefully get her to calm. “While I appreciate your apology, Miss Shallowbrook, it isn’t needed. I surprised you, and you reacted. We cannot be held accountable for what our bodies do without our brains’ input. I’m more concerned with what you are doing in my classroom in the small hours of the morning.”

The witch pushed her hair out of her face, and Aesop noticed that she still held tightly to her wand. She was like a caged beast, undecided between fight and flight. “My potion station wouldn’t hold a flame. You told me last year that I couldn’t leave hot cauldrons lying just anywhere, so I came here. It was the only place I could think of where I would have access and be alone.”

“Have access through my very securely locked door?”

“I know a really strong form of Alohamora,” she admitted guiltily, looking down again. “Mr. Moon taught me last year when he had me looking for those demiguise statues.”

Of course Moon had taught her. That egomaniac would do anything to keep himself from appearing foolish. Sharp would have ground his teeth in frustration, had he not already been grinding them to silence his pain. He needed to sit down.

“May I help you finish whatever it is you’re brewing?” asked the man. He made sure to keep his voice neutral, and chose to drop the conversation about the locks for now.

She seemed to appreciate the change in topic, and inclined her head towards two of the cauldrons. “If you want to babysit the two over there while I finish these two Wigginwelds… The last stage ingredients are already prepared, and the recipe is open, but they shouldn’t be ready for that for a bit.”

The professor had already limped to her, pulled up one of the stools that littered his classroom, and sat down with a grunt, dangling his left leg off the ground as he braced himself with his right. Two cauldrons were bubbling happily, shrivelfigs slowly stewing down to turn the potions purple. Sharp knew Thunderbrew when he saw it, and this was a good batch.

“Miss Shallowbrook, this Thunderbrew is textbook. I’m not going to ask why you need it, only that you use it responsibly. You focus on the Wigginweld, and I’ll keep these going.”

His student began to protest. “I can finish them; you don’t need to-”

Sharp gave her the stern look that typically silenced his first-years. “Don’t divide your focus. Finish your brew and wash your cauldrons when you’re done, and I can finish the Thunderbrew. As you said, the last stage ingredients are prepared already, and the recipe is open. Surely you can trust your potions professor to not mess it up?”

Shrugging, the Ravenclaw turned her attention to her workstations. Aesop could tell that she was still wary of him, but he remained silent, choosing to enjoy the process of watching his two cauldrons. He hoped that, by not saying anything, he would show her that she need not fear him. And soon, he became so focused on finishing the Thunderbrew that he barely paid her any mind, only tracking her in his peripherals when she moved to bottle her yields and wash up.

Her potions done, Miss Shallowbrook came to his side and watched as he meticulously added Stench of the Dead and levitated the cauldrons to remove them from the heat. She had already fetched vials and held them out for him to fill. Once done with that, they deep cleaned the entire station – all four burners and countertops – in a companionable silence. They’d both seen enough of the other’s method during the past year and a half of classes and extra assignments to work together without getting in each other’s way, and she did most of the running to fetch and put away things, for which the professor was grateful.

After the workstation was put back to rights, Miss Shallowbrook perched herself meekly on one of the stools close to her teacher’s. She opened her mouth once as if to speak, but quickly and firmly shut it again. She was clasping her hands tightly, too, a new nervous habit she’d acquired after the battle. Sharp suspected it was to stop them from shaking, the same way he tended to rub his palms together or drum his fingers on the days his pain was especially bad. If she was going to react to his silent invitation to speak by not speaking, he would have to find another way to coax her.

He let out a sigh – not quite aggravated, but close – as he rose to stand in front of his student.

“Would you like some tea? I know it’s still a bit early for breakfast, but for tea, there’s never a wrong time.”

The young woman nodded, surprised, and followed as he slowly shuffled towards his office at the entry of the classroom. When he reached the padlocked door, he turned to her with the slightest of smiles.

“I’d like to see this strong Alohamora of yours, if you’d like. It’s not every day a student can get into one of my locks.” He kept his voice light, the gently prodding that he tried to use with the younger students. When they weren’t taking years off his life combining random ingredients to “see what would happen.”

After sizing him up, looking for a trap, but finding none, she quickly aimed her wand at the padlock, whispered the incantation, and had it open in less than five seconds. Then she looked back up at him apprehensively.

“That was well done,” praised Aesop. “I expect nothing less. After you.”

The man followed her into his office and started a conjured kettle heating on a small potion burner on a cart by the door. He then summoned a stool for her from the classroom and pushed his chair around to the front of his desk so she could sit near him, leaning heavily on the piece of furniture as he moved it. Charmed teacups filled themselves and floated onto the desk to be within reach as they steeped. Sharp carefully lowered himself into the comfortable leather of his seat and gave the young woman his full attention. He wasn’t content to be silent anymore.

“Now that we don’t have brews to supervise, I’d like to know why I found you in my locked classroom after curfew. And I understand that your personal brewing station needs repair, but you could have borrowed a classmate’s, or come and asked me to use one here outside of class hours.”

The student clasped her hands tightly in her lap and refused to look at him, although she seemed to be considering it. The man huffed through his nose and shifted his weight to lean towards her. He picked up her teacup and gave it to her, just to draw her attention, force her to look at him. Once she looked up, he gave her a nod, encouraging her to speak.

“Everyone looks at me differently after last year,” she said finally.

At last, thought Sharp, wryly and a bit relieved, she speaks. “Go on.”

“It was okay last year,” she continued, visibly sinking into her shoulders. “I was new, and I had five years to do in the span of one. People had high expectations.”

“Because we saw your potential. You have an innate connection to your magic that few others do.”

“I know that, and it helped me meet those high expectations. But because of it, I never felt like I could turn anybody down. I shouldn’t have been asked to do so much outside of school. Everybody in the hamlets needed something, but they saw somebody who had ability, so they didn’t even try. Even the adults… Especially the adults.”

“Hmm.” Aesop took a sip of his tea. It hadn’t steeped long enough yet, but he needed to do something to hide his expression. If what Miss Shallowbrook was describing now could be considered “okay,” then what she was enduring this year sounded dreadful.

Now that she was talking, the Ravenclaw didn’t seem to be able to stop. She pushed up the sleeves of her jumper, like she was getting flustered from having to say it all, and the man could see bruises, scrapes, and scars both old and new. She was still living hard, her teacher realized, seeing reflected on her body the beginnings of the lifestyle that had ruined his.

Miss Shallowbrook was venting now. “I knew I was getting into danger. The Keepers were demanding, but Ranrok was going to destroy wizardkind. It was my fate to take on that challenge, since I have ancient magic. But my friends were using me for my power, too. I got in trouble with the Ashwinders and poachers for Nattie and Poppy, which turned into a year-long thing once those groups knew about it, and there were some encounters I didn’t think we’d survive. I faced a mother dragon, and got kidnapped by Rookwood, and would have been seriously hurt by Harlow if Nattie hadn’t intervened. And then there was everything that I got into with Ominis and Sebastian…”

She finally paused to take a breath and try her tea. By the look on her face, she didn’t like it.

“You drink chamomile tea all day? Why? It tastes like an old dish rag, not to mention it makes you fall asleep.”

After taking another sip of his, Professor Sharp replied, “Chamomile has soothing properties. I find it relaxes the body, which helps me get through the day. And with my injury, falling asleep is nearly impossible unless I’m really trying. Being upright will always keep me awake.”

“Is that why you were here so early? Getting something to help you sleep?”

“We’re not here to talk about my lack of sleep, Miss Shallowbrook, nor about my poor taste in tea. You won’t be able to redirect me that easily,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Fine,” she groaned, but she didn’t return to the topic of Mr. Sallow. Sharp couldn’t know for certain, but he suspected that she, Mr. Sallow, and Mr. Gaunt had shared some unsavory experiences together. Their friendship had very nearly severed overnight last year; it seemed that Miss Shallowbrook and Mr. Gaunt had been intentional in distancing themselves from Mr. Sallow for a while. The two had seemed interested in each other, however; they were often whispering to each other during class and in the castle corridors, when they thought their professor was out of earshot. “Do I have to talk about the end of last year? Or can I move on to everything this year?”

Giving her a sympathetic smile, the professor replied, “I am here to listen to whatever you feel you need to say. And if you simply need somebody to be quiet with, I can do that, too.”

The young woman’s eyes suddenly glistened, and she had to blink them rather forcefully before they cleared again. Then she took another sip from her cup and pulled another face before she decided to continue speaking.

“After everything came out last year, I haven’t been able to escape. Everywhere I go, I’m the hero who saved Hogwarts – and wizardkind. The Daily Prophet circulated my photograph, for Merlin’s sake! So rather than finally getting to rest, I have to perform, otherwise I’m not the person they expected to meet, and I disappoint them.”

Slowly, Aesop said, “That can’t be easy to manage. How do you?”

She scoffed bitterly. “I don’t. I still have to be their savior. If there are rumors of poachers, someone asks me to go check. Dark wizards – can I go clear them out?” The glisten was back in her eyes, and she was blinking furiously to clear it, but unsuccessfully. “The Ministry still aren’t doing anything, and the adults want me to before things get out of hand again. And because the expectations are so bloody high, I have to soldier on, so I keep brewing combat potions to make it easier, and growing aggressive plants, and I’m so tired, and falling behind on coursework, which is another way I’m failing.”

Now her chest was heaving, and the wild, caged animal expression was back. The tears glistening in her eyes were on the verge of falling, but still she fought them. Professor Sharp observed her cautiously, but didn’t yet speak. Her mind was obviously circling the main point, and he didn’t want to force it out of her.

“I can’t keep it up,” she wheezed. “There’s no way I can succeed. There’s so much that I’m doomed to fail somebody. A lot of somebodies. Fate gave me an impossible task, and because I actually did it, I’m punished with never being allowed to fail again? Well, I didn’t ask for that fate!”

The dam finally burst. All of the tears that had probably been forced back for days, weeks, months ran down her face. She took off her glasses and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“I can’t do it anymore,” she sobbed. “I can’t keep failing everyone. That’s why I broke into your classroom in the middle of the night, because I had to prepare for the next time somebody needs me to do something. Except I failed you, because I got caught, so now you know what I’m doing. You taught me better than this.”

Sharp now felt that he had to interrupt. His emotional range was a little more than that of a teaspoon, unlike the ingrates who had the nerve to keep making demands on his student, but she was rapidly going out of his depth. He’d had no idea she was feeling this low. She’d been in his classroom multiple times a week, and he hadn’t seen the depth of her despair. She’d masked it all, body and soul. He wondered if any of his colleagues had noticed. He should have.

“Miss Shallowbrook,” he said firmly, to get her attention out of her own mind and onto him, “you have not failed. You have not failed me, or anybody else. We’ve failed you.”

The Ravenclaw froze.

He continued. “You were entrusted with ancient magic, that only you could wield. That was your responsibility, to steward it well, and you did. As the adults, we should have handled everything else. We should have been preparing you for a life beyond Hogwarts, protecting you and giving you a place to be safe and grow. Instead of being the stewards of your education, we forced you, whether we knew it or not, to learn from necessity while putting yourself in unnecessary danger. Our duty was to you, and we failed you. Miserably.”

The young woman’s sobs shuddered, interrupted by coughs as she tried to stop. “How could you have known? I had to keep it a secret. Professor Fig told me that no one could know what we were doing.” She whimpered and took a shaky breath. “I feel so guilty for being mad at him about it. He’s dead, and I should be sad he’s gone, but part of me is relieved, and an even bigger part of me is furious that he conditioned me to feel like I owe my ability to the wizarding world instead of myself.”

At this confession, the tears returned in force. Professor Sharp was angry for Miss Shallowbrook. He hadn’t known, not explicitly, how much pressure the last year’s ordeal had put on her, and he’d trusted Fig with her wellbeing a bit too much. She’d needed care, and she’d been given responsibility instead, a duty that was crippling her. Fig had been a flawed mentor, perhaps too deep in his own grief for his wife to see that he had projected his hopes in finishing her mission onto his student.

Aesop heaved himself up from his chair and approached the Ravenclaw. She didn’t notice him move; her forehead was resting on her knees, which she drawn up to her chest and hugged. She probably felt like she was completely alone in the work. He knew how that felt, but it was a lie. He put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed down with a light pressure, not breaking contact. Her cries got more controlled almost instantly.

“What do you need of me, Miss Shallowbrook?” he asked quietly.

The man could feel her trembling as she replied.

“I just want to be a normal girl, with a normal fate. I don’t want to be the hero anymore.”

“I don’t know if I can give you a normal fate, but I can tell you that your fate is only where you start. Your choices will impact it more than you could imagine, and even an unwanted fate can turn into a good life. Mine did, as my injury led me back to Hogwarts. As for being normal, I can give you that, at least in my presence.”

Miss Shallowbrook finally looked up. “Thank you, Professor Sharp.”

“You are most welcome. Please, let me know if there is ever anything I can do to help, anything at all that you may need.”

She unfolded herself and slid off of her stool, looking exhausted from her cry. Embarrassed, too, as she wiped her sleeve across her face. “I actually need something now, but you don’t have to. It’s probably against the code of ethics.”

The man quirked an eyebrow. Where could she possibly be going with this? “Try me.”

She quickly gave him a watery side-eyed glance before averting her gaze. “Can I… I mean, would you mind if…”

She was clearly embarrassed by what she wanted to ask, and starting to look cagey once more. He put his hand back between her shoulders, hoping it would calm her as it had before.

“You can ask me, Miss Shallowbrook. You know by now that I’m not as terrifying as I first seem, don’t you?”

With a nod, the young woman took a breath and forced out her questions. Although, now, it was a statement.

“I just… I need a hug.”

That was it? It wasn’t unheard of for professors to comfort their students from time to time, although this was the first time Aesop had been asked, and the students who needed it were normally younger. But after everything Miss Shallowbrook had had to face alone, it didn’t come to him as a shock.

Using the hand that was already on her back, Sharp pulled his student into an awkward hug. He didn’t know what to do, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. Because that was what she was – she may have almost been of-age, but Miss Shallowbrook was still just a girl, a child, and she needed him to look after her. Indeed, she gave no reaction to how he was standing completely stiffly; she was too busy losing the fight against more tears, and eventually threw her arms around him and again began sobbing, burrowing her face into the lapel of his coat. After a moment, he leaned down a bit –she only came up to his chest, as he was at least a head and a half taller than her – and lightly wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders. He held her close, but loosely, hoping that he was doing this right.

The girl’s heartbroken crying continued for several minutes. Long enough for her professor’s bad leg to lock, which would cause him a good bit of pain for the entirety of his day, but he didn’t mind. Sharp was learning why the other faculty were so open to being available to their students. He never really let on just how much he cared for these children, so they typically didn’t come to him when they needed an adult to tell them that they mattered, that they weren’t a burden, and that everything they were experiencing had a purpose. He hadn’t known how much it would fulfill him to be the stand-in parent when the real parent was so far away. It made him feel… he didn’t know how he felt, but it was good.

His hug must have become more natural, because the young Ravenclaw was starting to slow down, if only just.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I’m old enough to keep my emotions in check, and I’m ruining your coat. But I’m just so overwhelmed. I’m tired of taking care of everybody else. I need someone to take care of me for once.”

“You don’t have to apologize, my dear girl. Cry it all out. I’ve got you.”

And that was what she did, while he continued to hug her, the heart in his chest growing a size or two to hold this remarkable student safely to him, despite his leg, which was screaming at him now. He waited until she extricated herself from the embrace to end it, and found that he had some slight moisture in his eyes from how powerful the moment had been. Curious.

“Thank you,” whispered the girl. “I know you probably hated that, but I needed it.” She stepped back a few paces and looked guiltily at the snotty, wet lapel while wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I really am sorry about your coat.”

The professor reached into one of his pockets and offered her a handkerchief. “It’s just a coat, and nothing the Scourgify spell can’t fix. I’ve been through much messier than this. For the moment, my concern is with you. I don’t want you to feel badly about breaking down, because it takes great strength of character to do so in the presence of others.”

“It didn’t feel strong. It felt like yet another failure.”

“I assure you, Miss Shallowbrook,” Sharp said seriously, “it is not. Allowing oneself to be vulnerable, rather than hiding behind emotional barriers, is the first step in finding closure, and in changing the outcome of an unwanted fate. I speak from some experience here, and I know with certainty that you are not a failure. You’ve simply had to be strong for too long.”

The young woman drew in a breath and exhaled forcefully. “You’re the first person to say that. Thank you, Professor.” Then she turned.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked the man, watching his student closely.

“Back to my common room, I suppose,” she mumbled.

“Not yet. We still have much to discuss. Do you like scones?”

The girl had been starting to shut down again, but paid attention when food was mentioned. “Sir?”

“Scones. Do you like them?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you are welcome to have one while we talk,” he said. “And in the spirit of being vulnerable with each other, I’d like to ask you to put my chair back behind my desk so I can sit down. I’m rather afraid I can’t seem to move; my knee has locked itself.”

A younger Aesop would have been embarrassed to admit that, but he had been living with this injury for over a decade and didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Miss Shallowbrook jerked into action, dragging the chair back into position while he slowly dragged his leg around the desk, supporting himself on the stained wood surface with every painful step. Once he’d gingerly lowered himself into his seat, he slid open a desk drawer, produced two blueberry scones, and placed one in front of the Ravenclaw. She stared at him in disbelief as he took a bite of a second one.

“You keep pastries in your desk?”

“Did you think I starved all day?” he challenged. “The kitchens aren’t far from here, but there are several staircases en route, and the Great Hall is on the other side of the castle. Your teachers are human, too, and I daresay we need even more snacks than the students do.”

She huffed. “Of course I know you eat, but pastries?”

“You didn’t expect me to eat pastries. Well then, what did you expect?” Sharp was curious, and waited good-naturedly for her response. It was hard not to enjoy oneself with blueberry scone in one’s mouth, and he found the myriad rumors and assumptions floating about the castle were always amusing, and usually completely wrong. The one about a supposed fistfight he’d had with Headmaster Black while they were both Slytherin housemates was his favorite. He wished it were true, as Phineas would possibly offer him a bit more respect if it were. He was interested in what the students thought he ate, and sat expectantly, waiting for the girl’s answer.

“Oh, well, I don’t know…” Miss Shallowbrook said bashfully. “I guess I thought you ate more bitter or savory foods. And drank lots of black coffee, or firewhiskey.”

“Harsh foods for a harsh man?” chuckled Aesop. “I had my fill of that in the auror’s office. One of the perks of being at Hogwarts is getting to indulge in the kitchens, and the house elves do pastry better than anything else. Don’t let the rumors about the professors inform your judgements of us. You know we all care about all of you students and want more than anything for you to succeed in your lives outside these walls. Even you, the girl who just happened to save the school with ancient magic. We care about you. Which is why I asked you to stay for a snack,” the man said to change to his intended topic. “We have some things to discuss.”

“Oh.” Miss Shallowbrook clasped her hands together anxiously. “This is about me breaking into your classroom. You’re right; there should be a penalty for that. I let you down.”

“When did I say that we were talking about punishing you?”

She glanced at him in disbelief. “You’re not going to?”

“No,” shrugged the professor.

“But… But I broke multiple school rules! Being out after curfew, breaking into your classroom, being in a classroom without you present, using your equipment unsupervised…”

“Yes, you broke those rules, but you are repentant, and these are not normal circumstances. I’m not going to penalize you because what you are already experiencing – and what you’re putting yourself through – are punishment enough. To punish you in addition to everything else would be cruel.”

Aesop had said it to relieve his student, but so heavy was her guilt at being extended grace instead of justice that it had rather the opposite effect. The girl was starting to wheeze again, her chest heaving.

“No, you have to punish me! I broke the rules!”

“Very well. If you insist, that’s five points from Ravenclaw.” Sharp shrugged. This late in the term, five points was negligible, and they both knew it. The young woman looked confused that he would let her off so easily.

“Why won’t you be harder on me?” she questioned. “I’m breaking major rules. I’m sneaking out of the castle at night, and taking Ministry matters into my own hands. Five house points isn’t enough. I should be suspended. No, I should be expelled! Why aren’t you expelling me?”

“Well, for one, it would be giving our headmaster what he wants, and I can’t bear the thought of being complicit in helping him ‘cleanse’ the school until there are only purebloods left,” jested Aesop.

Miss Shallowbrook hadn’t expected the man to joke, and her brain missed the purpose anyway as it looked for the literal meaning, as she tended to do.

“Aren’t you a pureblood?” she asked.

“As pure as a person can be, although there’s no possibility wizardkind would have survived this long without intermingling with muggles at some point. I don’t believe that any of the bloodlines are truly pure. But that is beside the point. That being that I am not suspending or expelling you.” He fixed her in a stern gaze. “You want to be expelled, I surmise, because then you wouldn’t have a wand, and if you wouldn’t have a wand, you wouldn’t have to be the hero our world believes you to be. Am I correct?”

Staring at her lap, the Ravenclaw nodded. “Yes, that’s correct. It’s the only solution I’ve been able to reach. If I can’t use magic, I can’t meet the expectations. Then people would finally leave me alone.” She didn’t sound convinced – the logic was forced, desperate – but did not have the energy to make herself believe it. That was why the potions master didn’t believe her, either.

“Miss Shallowbrook, I cannot allow you to waste your enormous potential,” he chided. “That is why, just this once, I will be lenient. I cannot fully understand what you are enduring after the year you had last year, but you know enough of my personal history to know that I can understand somewhat. Trauma causes damage, whether physical or mental, and sometimes both, and after something incurs damage, it needs to be rebuilt.”

“But how can I rebuild? I haven’t been able to manage it yet, and I’ve been trying.”

The man shook his head. “Respectfully, Miss Shallowbrook, you haven’t. You’ve been trying to continue on as though nothing happened. You need to break your mold to rebuild.”

“Break my mold?”

“Yes. Stop the current pattern. You’re only going to keep failing if you continue sneaking out and getting into trouble.”

“But that would mean I’d have to stay in the castle.”

“By Merlin, she’s got it; the Ravenclaw wit actually is there,” Sharp teased sarcastically. “Yes, you’d have to stay in the castle. Let the adults do their jobs and handle any poachers that come. I can send an owl to Officer Singer letting her know that you will no longer be gallivanting across the highlands playing auror. I have a better use for you.”

After taking a nervous last bite of her scone, the student held eye contact. “What will you have me do?”

Aesop had known even before now that expectations were her motivator, the reason she ever did anything. This morning’s conversation had confirmed it. During their talk, he’d been devising a plan to use that to his advantage, in a way that would also benefit her. He leant forward and interlaced his fingers on the surface of his desk, and allowed himself the smallest of proud smirks. He’d be able to solve multiple problems if this were to work.

“I’d like you here, with me and another student, three afternoons per week for the rest of term. Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday after the last class of the day.”

“O-kay,” she replied suspiciously. “Is this detention?”

“No, not detention. I want you to tutor one of my first-years.”

“Tutoring? Why? I’ve never done that before.”

The professor had to lean back before he answered; his leg really was unhappy today, and bending forward was making it more so. But he kept the discomfort from his voice.

“You may have never tutored before, but you are patient, helpful, and a talented potioneer. And while I have expertise in my craft, I do not have the most gentle tone of voice.”

“No,” agreed Miss Shallowbrook hesitantly, “you do not. I remember in my first class, you banged open the door and started shouting about potions being ‘the most challenging and hazardous subject taught in this school.’”

Aesop had felt badly about that at the time. He’d launched into his usual fifth-year spiel before he’d remembered he had a brand new student who was basically a first-year. He tried to be less intimidating with the new students, albeit not always successfully.

“As I said, my tone is not always gentle,” he admitted, “and I’ve scared one particular student this year, a boy named Bates. He doesn’t have the disposition for potions, and he loses track of what he’s doing. He’s blown up a few cauldrons, which is no small feat for a first-year who isn’t actively trying to blow up a cauldron.”

“Surely he can’t be that bad?”

“I assure you, he is. I’ve never seen a student so ill suited, and frankly, if he doesn’t start to improve, he’ll score a ‘T’ on the end of year exam. I’ve tried to help him, but he’s so terrified of me that he performs even worse when I give him individualized instruction. I need somebody to help him learn, and I need to keep you inside, away from danger. What do you think?”

The Ravenclaw took a few moments to ponder the request. “You’ll be here?”

“Yes, as near as you need me. I can grade essays at my table in the classroom, if you’d like. Close enough to listen in and interject if I feel the need, but hopefully far enough removed to not scare Bates.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. But you’re sure you wouldn’t rather punish me?”

The man huffed a sigh through his nose. “Really, Miss Shallowbrook, I’d rather not. But if you are so hellbent on tarnishing your reputation, we can call this an extended detention. Would that be to your satisfaction?”

“It would be,” she answered, flashing the first smile he’d seen from her this morning. “Thank you, sir.”

What a strange girl, he thought. “Very well. Now that we’ve spoken, I think we’re done for the morning. Unless there was anything else you need to discuss?”

She shook her head. “No, sir. I’ve had enough talk for now.”

“All right.” Aesop reached into a drawer and pulled out some parchment and a quill. “I’ll write you a note excusing you from your first class. You’ve had a long night; I’m sure my classroom wasn’t your first destination.”

“I really don’t need it, sir. I’ve got two hours until the first period, and it’s a study hall. I have plenty of time before any real classes. I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense.” He finished inscribing the note and thrust it at her sternly. “It doesn’t take an auror to see how beaten you are. You need sleep, and lots of it. You’ve told me more than once today how tired you are. You will not fail if you miss one class. Take the note, Miss Shallowbrook.”

Hesitantly, the young woman regarded the scrap of paper in her teacher’s outstretched hand. She was obviously exhausted, but something kept her from accepting it. Sharp softened a bit and tried a new approach.

“You asked to be taken care of. This is me taking care of you. Now, please take the note before I write to your head of house.”

She finally took it, not willing to risk Professor Hecat’s wrath. Sharp didn’t blame her. “Thank you, sir.”

He grunted in response. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you after class to help Bates.”

Miss Shallowbrook packed her bag with the potions they’d brewed and tucked the excuse note on top. Then she walked slowly out, into the dungeons and out of sight. When Professor Sharp next saw her, the shadows under her eyes weren’t quite so dark, and she came bearing a large basket that she said was for after tutoring. The man introduced her to his terrified first-year and distanced himself to observe.

Young Bates had an older sister, so he quickly opened up to Miss Shallowbrook. As the potions master had expected, the girl was a natural teacher, and soon got the boy brewing a simple forgetfulness potion by having him copy her steps as she brewed alongside him. Sharp rose only once, limping over to assess their final products. The boy’s was passable, and Miss Shallowbrook’s… well, it was technically perfect. He rumbled the praise, affecting annoyance that he couldn’t fault it, but offered the young woman a proud nod when Bates’ back was turned.

After the students bottled their brews and cleaned the workstation, the sixth-year retrieved her basket. By then, it was evening, and would be difficult to make it to the Great Hall in time for dinner, so she’d had the forethought to bring enough food for all three of them, courtesy of the house elves in the kitchen. The first week, she and Bates ate at the workstation, away from Sharp, but she quickly convinced the boy to join her and the professor at the table. She’d been carefully pushing back at the man all week, snarking and offering little commentaries to his instruction at the beginning of each tutoring session. Once she’d shown that she could be sarcastic towards him, and been given nothing but harmless, good-natured grumbling in return, Bates wasn’t as terrified.

Aesop grew to look forward to those tutoring sessions. He saw an abysmal student make remarkable progress – passing with an ‘A’ at the end of the two months – and helped a lost student start to find her way back to herself. And he got something out of it, too.

Human connection. Aesop Sharp, the cursed, notoriously-grumpy ex-auror, wasn’t nearly as lonely anymore, and found himself legitimately disappointed when the end of the school year came. He’d enjoyed having a few lost children under his wing, and for someone who’d given up on ever having a family of his own, these two honorary kids were a pretty good substitution.

Author’s note: I’ve been addicted to Hogwarts Legacy for the past three months, and have loved every second of it. I especially love the character of Professor Aesop Sharp. The lore behind him is so rich, and I’m disappointed that we didn’t get more of him in the game.

I’ve been reading fanfiction for the game here on Tumblr, as well, and almost all of the Professor Sharp fanfiction is spicy, to say the least. I didn’t see the character that way. Rough around the edges, yes, but in a dad way. He’s gruff, sarcastic, and grumpy, but he offers encouragement or praise when it’s due, and doesn’t hesitate to put himself between any threat and the people he surrounds himself with, even when he could die. I wanted to write something with him in more of a caretaker role.

Lastly, this writing is pretty personal to me. My MC, Elizabeth Shallowbrook, became a tool for me to process a lot of what I’m working through in counseling right now. I struggle with expectations and people pleasing to an unhealthy degree, and this story became my way of experiencing what I wish I could have heard growing up. I didn’t have an unhealthy family life, by any means, but I think my parents did when they were young, and they didn’t have the right tools to cope with what they had, so they didn’t get to teach them to me.

#my writing #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy mc #mc elizabeth shallowbrook #ravenclaw #professor sharp #aesop sharp

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