What Follows | Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 1: The Start of a Memoir

"Really, Professor!?"

Adalinda's laughter bounced around the room, promptly joined by Professor Fig's, as she almost tipped off her armchair. Once he was sure he wouldn't choke on it, Professor Fig took a small sip of his tea, joy still crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"Yes, my child, Miriam unfortunately ended up getting detention right off the bat that year."

He chuckled as she giggled at the notion of his late wife, Miriam, getting in trouble at the start of her 5th year for charming the sorting hat to only speak in Portuguese, postponing the sorting to the next morning in order to properly commence.

"I wish I knew more about my family."

She voiced her frontmost thought, briefly recalling her lack of knowledge as she better draped the handmade quilt over herself, as if it could replicate the warmth and comfort of the hugs Professor Fig so adamantly insisted his wife always gave. The quilt undeniably smelled like lavender, like Miriam, thanks to olfacere aeternus, the scent-lasting charm Miriam herself had placed on it.

Professor Fig gently set his teacup back down on the saucer with a tiny clink.

"Ah, but of course." He offered her a tender smile, one she reciprocated in the silence that had delicately settled between them, only disrupted by the fire faintly crackling.

He stood up with a start, one that would have been alarming to see for a man his age, had she not witnessed firsthand on multiple occasions how active he was. He walked over to his desk and pulled out something from the top drawer.

"However, who's to say you can't be the reason why others can't?"

He turned back to her with a broad smile as he held it behind his back.

"I beg your pardon?"

She found herself matching his infectious grin, despite her puzzlement.

"Have you ever thought of making an album, or perhaps a diary of sorts?"

He gently set a book between them. The russet cover had spots of discoloration, deckle-edged pages were dog-eared, and a crack ran along the spine of the scrapbook. On the cover in gold letters read, "E + M".

"And for a moment I thought you were pulling all your stories from an endless recollection of memories." She teased him, popping the last biscuit into her mouth, earning a mock sigh from his end.

"Alas, I'm afraid even my extensive knowledge reaches such limits," he said, giving her that warm smile that never failed to put her at ease. Whenever he wasn't already at the scene of the crime with her, in the immediate aftermath of any of the past few months' one too many jarring events, she would practically barrel into his office to receive comfort.

"In all seriousness, I do recommend it. Every time I'm feeling down, I can turn to these pages and remember it all as if it were yesterday."

Adalinda finished her cup of valerian, filled with one too many sugar cubes, nullifying the calming effect it was supposed to induce.

"Hmm, maybe, although it's not like I'd have anyone to give it to, much less share it with."

"No? Not even a future partner?"

She snorted as she rolled her eyes, "Not this again. Please, who would even want to deal with this?" She moved her hands in front of the quilt to gesture to herself. "I'm a mess! I don't know a thing when it comes to propriety, much less how or where the hell I'm supposed to fit in the wizarding world. At this point, I should attach an eye to the back of my head since my life feels like it's constantly in peril, which isn't that far off from the truth when I compare it to others' day-to-day schedules. Merlin, I can't even recall the last time I set aside enough time to get adequate sleep."