Hogwarts: The Blood Mage

Morgott appeared just a minute later, its eyes sharp and a scowl on its face. It was an almost too human expression, but it allowed Aidan to guess he had not been wrong in his assumptions.

"What, didn't like the shop?" Aidan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Morgott answered with a low, disapproving meow and jumped up beside him, thudding his tail once against the ground like a gavel.

"Noted." Aidan said with a grin. "No more errands involving eccentric wandmakers. Now let's go get my wand made."

Morgott once again faded into Aidan's shadow, and the wizard Apparated in front of Ollivander's. 

"I hope Morgott didn't give you a hard time, Mr. Ollivander." Aidan said upon entering the store, a smug smile present in his face. "He did not seem very happy when he returned to me."

"Ah, Mr. Haimadros," Warwick greeted him dryly, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. "Your... companion,yes, was most civil when he arrived at the shop. I may have been a bit too eager, admittedly. A creature I knew nothing about delivering a letter by shadow? Naturally, I assumed it was from you."

He paused, adjusting his sleeves with habitual precision.

"I fear I may have startled him. In return, he showed me some... rather interesting things. Did you know he can induce hallucinations? Quite convincing ones, I must say." Warwick finished after that slight pause.

"I knew something about it, yes," Aidan half-admitted. He hadn't expected Morgott to use its abilities on Mr. Ollivander, but at least it had been harmless. "I assume you've already read the letter I sent?"

"That would be correct, indeed," Warwick replied, brushing the topic of the Hemeris aside with a flick of his tone. "Is it true, then? You've found a type of wood not seen in centuries?"

"Millennia, actually," Aidan corrected gently. "It was banned by my family all the way back in Ancient Greece."

Before any more questions could be posed, Aidan took the the branch of Veilwood from an inside pocket of his coat and placed it in Mr. Ollivander's hands. The wandmaker's eyes lit up at once. Whatever curiosity he had held about Morgott vanished instantly; his attention, utterly consumed, now belonged to the wood. Passion trumped fear.

"This is extraordinary. I have truly never seen wood like this —not even in the wands crafted by my great-grandfather!" Warwick exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. "Mr. Haimadros, if you would allow me to properly study this wood —and the feather that will serve as the wand core—, I would be willing to swear an Unbreakable Vow never to disclose any of this to the public!"

"Do not worry, Mr. Ollivander," Aidan said calmly. "You are free to study them to your heart's content. I do intend to make myself known publicly, sooner or later."

Warwick raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Forgive me, but do you truly think that's wise?"

"My family lost their allies because of secrecy," Aidan answered matter-of-factly. "I plan to walk a similar path —but I won't step in their footsteps."

"It's not my place to involve myself in your personal matters or those of your family, so I apologise if I overstepped." Warwick finally relented, recognising that Aidan might well be a more capable Lord —at just seventeen— than many he'd witnessed at Wizengamot meetings. "Now, about your wand: give me no more than a week, and I'll have it ready for you, Mr. Haimadros."

"Perfect, Mr. Ollivander!" Aidan beamed, relief flooding him now that his wand was secured. "I appreciate your help and discretion. Until I'm ready to reveal myself publicly, please keep my existence under wraps."

"Don't worry, Mr. Haimadros," Warwick said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not one to babble about others."

After sharing their goodbye, Aidan apparated back to his house, though this time he found himself alone, since Jack and Ivy were both working. Realising he had at least an entire week to kill before his wand was ready, Aidan decided to immerse himself in one of the things he was itching to do the most.

Explore Crimsonveil Manor.

*

Aidan and Morgott stood on the threshold of the manor, staring silently at the great double doors. One anxious, the other doing its best to share its calm. With a deep breath, Aidan placed his hands on the worn wood and pushed. The doors creaked open, slow and loud.

What greeted him inside took him by surprise.

The entire house was immaculate —as if it had been lived in until just the day before. If not for the absolute silence that hung in the air like a curse, Aidan might've believed it still was.

"I guess my family had a bit of a thing for cleanliness." He muttered, glancing at Morgott. "Anything you'd like to share before I walk into a cursed room or awaken a forgotten ancestor?"

The Hemeris stared back at him blankly, then gave a dry meow and shoved at Aidan's legs with its head.

"Alright, alright, no need to push." Aidan said, forcing calm back into his chest, where his heart thudded like a wardrum.

As he moved deeper into the halls, his eyes traced every surface, every object, as if trying to memorise every small detail of the place. He passed a tea table that looked at least eighteenth-century, crafted from Veilwood and Bloodwood like most of the furniture in the manor. The stone hearth still crackled with a slow, magical fire. Pale, limestone-white walls contrasted cleanly with dark mahogany baseboards, and the floors were laid with wide pine planks, smooth and warm in tone. Everything was carefully balanced. Even the silence.

"It's all so old..." Aidan murmured, his eyes scanning every detail, every worn surface. "How many memories linger in every room?"

He stepped into the kitchen, greeted by the silent presence of antique ovens and cast-iron stoves, their metal dulled by age. Against one wall stood what appeared to be an early refrigerator —wooden doors, heavy iron hinges, and ornate metal trim.

"That one's more a relic than anything." Said Aidan, leaving the kitchen. He walked into a long corridor lined with portraits: solemn, sharp-eyed faces stared down from oil paintings, the Haimadros lineage traced as far back as the early eighteen hundreds.

The hall unfolded like a quiet guide. A guest room, a narrow bathroom with brass fittings, a broom cupboard that smelled faintly of citrus and wax —everything whispered of the manor's age, of centuries wrapped in dust and magic.

At the far end of the hall, a stairway rose with gentle curves toward the upper floor. Aidan hesitated for a moment, hand resting on the banister, before slowly ascending. The first room he came upon was another bathroom — this one grander, with veined marble countertops and a claw-foot tub. But beyond it were the true heart of the house.

The bedrooms.

The main bedroom, which was reserved for the Lord of House Haimadros, was minimalist in its decoration. A painting of who Aidan believed was the first Lord of House Haimadros to have ever lived in Crimsonveil Manor, the family crest —with the motto carved into the metal— sitting on the wall, over the bed, and a giant placard which still held many robes from the early twentieth century —both male and female. It felt as dead as it was. 

Then he entered the next room, much more colourful, full of gizmos and trinkets, paintings everywhere, and an easel with a still blank canvas. The bed was made with purple bed sheets that had a rose motif. The room looked feminine, without being too much. A daughter of House Haimadros who had varied hobbies, perhaps. 

"Second to last..." Aidan said before opening the door to the third room in the hall, his breath caught as soon as he opened the door. 

What he found was a nursery, with an old playpen and a rocking cradle. The place was full of old storybooks, handcrafted wool toys, and baby clothes. As Aidan stared at the room, he couldn't help but imagine Selene caring for him. He did not know the woman, so he imagined her like him, but more beautiful and regal, with long hair cascading down her back. He imagined her holding him as a baby, rocking him back and forth, telling him she loved him. 

Tears slipped down Aidan's cheeks before he realised he was crying.

Morgott started purring and meowing softly, rubbing itself on Aidan until the boy hugged it. It could feel the grief coming from its human. 

"It's... it's not like I knew her." Aidan managed to say in between sobs. "I never had this family." 

"Why..." Aidan muttered, choking on the knot in his throat. "Why does it hurt so much?" 

Aidan allowed his emotions to flow, letting go of what could not be.