Chapter 29 – The Letter
The sudden disappearance of Phineas Fawley threw all of Hogwarts into chaos. Professors were alarmed, prefects were dispatched to search every corner of the castle, and even Professor Trelawney—the ever-dramatic Seer of Divination—had declared that the stars themselves trembled with ill omens.
"Ah... yes... yes! I see it now—the shadow of an oak tree shrouded in mist… forming at the bottom of the teacup!"
Fred Weasley mimicked her in a breathy, mystical tone, complete with wild gestures. He was so convincing that several nearby students burst out laughing.
Russell couldn't help but grin. "She actually said that?"
He knew Professor Trelawney's so-called prophecies were often pure nonsense—but every so often, when fate demanded it, she somehow managed to utter a prediction with frightening accuracy.
Fred shrugged, stealing a spoonful of chocolate pudding from Russell's plate. "That's what everyone's saying, anyway."
"Everyone?" Russell raised an eyebrow. "And by everyone, you mean—?"
"Eh," Fred waved vaguely, "you know. Everyone."
Cedric, sitting across from them, leaned forward impatiently. "So? Was she right this time or not? Don't leave me hanging!"
George jumped in, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. "Well, turns out—she was. The professors searched the whole castle top to bottom. In the end, they found Fawley in the Forbidden Forest."
"What?" Russell blinked.
"Yeah," Fred continued eagerly, "Professor Corvey—you know, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—was the one who found him. Poor kid was clinging to the top of an oak tree, shaking like a leaf!"
Cedric winced. "Merlin's beard…"
Fred smirked. "Apparently, his broom malfunctioned mid-flight. The thing went berserk—spinning and swooping all over the place before throwing him off. He barely managed to grab onto a branch before splattering on the ground."
"Honestly," George added, "I think he's got the wrong house. A guy like that belongs in Gryffindor—only two days into term, and he's already caused two major incidents. He's got talent."
Russell chuckled. "You should ask him to transfer, then. I bet Professor Flitwick would love you for it."
Fred immediately waved his hands. "I was joking! If he actually came over, Professor McGonagall would tear me apart before I even had the chance to celebrate!"
Russell tilted his head thoughtfully. "I don't think she'd go that far. Maybe a few weeks of detention. But hey—if you two somehow did convince someone to switch Houses, that would be the first time in Hogwarts history."
Both twins froze, staring at him in disbelief.
Fred was the first to speak. "Russell… you're dangerous."
"Utterly devious," George added, narrowing his eyes.
Russell blinked innocently. "I was just making a suggestion."
Fred grabbed his twin by the arm. "Come on, George—we need to leave before he talks us into doing something we'll regret. The last thing I need is to end up in a historic scandal."
They bolted for the Great Hall doors, muttering about "silver-tongued Ravenclaws" and "bad influences."
Russell just leaned back in his seat, amused.
Devious? Maybe. But if someone ever did manage to switch Houses, it would certainly make Hogwarts history—and he wasn't sure whether that thought made him more curious… or more tempted.
Cedric could hardly contain his laughter. It was the first time he'd ever seen the Weasley twins lose a verbal sparring match—and to a Ravenclaw no less.
But just as the corners of his mouth twitched upward, something shifted in his eyes. His amusement vanished, replaced by a rare seriousness.
"Russell," he said sternly, "I can't believe you'd say something like that. I'm really disappointed in you."
Russell blinked, taken aback. "What?"
Cedric straightened his posture, his tone righteous and resolute. "Phineas Fawley is your classmate—and your roommate. You should be showing him concern, not mockery."
Russell stared at him in disbelief. "You… want me to care about Fawley? Cedric, have you lost your mind?"
He wasn't exaggerating—Cedric knew about Fawley's constant provocations toward Russell. This was madness.
He was about to reach out and feel Cedric's forehead, just to check if he was feverish, when a soft, melodic voice came from behind him.
"Russell, were you talking about Fawley just now? Is he all right?"
It was Cho Chang, her expression filled with genuine concern.
Russell turned his head, glanced at Cho, then at Cedric—and immediately understood everything. Cedric's ears were red, his composure faltering ever so slightly.
Ah. So that's how it is.
In the original timeline, those two eventually became a couple. How could Russell forget?
A graceful young lady and a chivalrous boy—perfectly natural, he thought. Love is just another kind of magic, after all.
"She's kind, isn't she?" Cedric murmured quietly, a hint of admiration in his voice.
Russell smirked—and decided to have a little fun. "Cho," he said loudly, "Cedric just told me you're a very kind girl."
Cho's cheeks instantly turned pink, and she shot Cedric an embarrassed, half-playful glare.
Cedric froze, completely dumbfounded, while Russell rose from his seat with the air of a man who had just performed a public service.
He still had business to attend to—specifically, the errand entrusted to him by Senior Amelia Slughorn. It was time to head to the library and write a letter to the Adams family.
Brother, that's as much help as I can give you, he thought as he gave Cedric a meaningful wink. From here on, you're on your own.
Humming to himself, Russell strode out of the Great Hall.
---
"De-de-de-de-dee… de-de-de-de-dee—good evening, Professor Corvey! Off to dinner?"
Russell nearly bumped into none other than Professor Ivan Corvey, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor—the very man they'd been gossiping about earlier.
"That's right," Corvey replied with a genial smile. "And if I'm not mistaken, you're Mr. Fythorne—the Sorting Hat's problem child, yes?"
Russell chuckled. "Professor, your memory's impressive. If you don't mind me asking—how did you find Fawley in the Forbidden Forest?"
Corvey's smile didn't waver, but his tone grew polite and distant. "I'm afraid I can't disclose that, Mr. Fythorne. Out of respect for young Fawley's privacy."
"Fair enough," Russell said, unfazed. "I understand completely."
He hadn't really expected an answer anyway—it was worth a shot. And since there was no gossip to harvest, he decided not to waste time and continued toward the library.
As he walked away, Corvey watched his retreating back with quiet amusement.
"An interesting child," he murmured, before heading off to dinner.
---
Inside the library, Madam Pince was enjoying a rare moment of peace. With the school year just beginning, few students had reason to visit yet. She sat behind the counter, reading a newly arrived tome, basking in the comforting silence.
Until—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, drawing closer and closer. Her good mood evaporated in an instant.
No… no, surely they'll just pass by… she told herself desperately, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.
But fate was cruel. The heavy doors creaked open, and in stepped a familiar figure—the same boy who had earlier tried to access a forbidden book.
"Young man," she said, clearing her throat, "what are you looking for this time?"
"Oh, I'm not here to read," Russell replied casually—then quickly added, before she could explode, "I'd like to write a letter. Could I borrow a quill, please?"
Madam Pince blinked in surprise. Then, after a pause, she nodded. "Of course."
Russell thanked her, found a seat by the window, and set out a blank piece of parchment.
He held the quill poised above the page—
and then froze.
His mind went completely blank.