17: Bonds and Ice

[3rd Pov]

Inside the Hogwarts headmaster's office, two figures sat opposite each other, talking.

The silver-blonde hair boy brought his hand to his head, massaging his temple. Shocked was too simple of a word to explain what was going on inside his mind. After Albus Dumbledore revealed he was the boy's and his sister's uncle, not even Occlumency could hide his turmoil.

In his ever-so pompous purple robes, the headmaster caressed his beard, a smile tugging his lips. He had wondered how his nephew would take the sudden surprise. He thought that, perhaps, the existence of the twins was the last gift from his late sister.

He had once tried to reconcile with Isadora. While the twins' mother condemned her father's actions, she also had unprecedented hate for the second coming of Merlin.

Albus could understand her hate. Asking a child who had lost her father so early, to get along with the man that had put him in jail, would be asking too much.

So he thought that maybe he could finally do his role of uncle for the two kids that had just started their magical journey, reconnecting with the rest of his family. And this time, with no schemes involved.

He did think about it, but he couldn't stop himself from testing Alaric with the mirror.

'The first and last time,' the old wizard thought. He had closely observed the brother and sister since they entered the school grounds, so he knew the inclinations towards the Dark Arts Alaric had, in contrast with Lysandra.

He could, perchance, tolerate his uses of the arts, maybe as his last favor to his best friend. Of course, he hoped, in the long run, Alaric noticed that one could also accomplish a lot without the use of such magic. But an old man could only dream.

The boy in question, still stuck in a trance, wondered how the closest thing to a Light's Dark Lord, could, at one point in time, have the same objective as his grandfather.

Finally bringing his head out of his reverie, he gazed at his now-revealed uncle. "Have you told my sister?" he asked.

"Not yet. I did plan to surprise you both, but she's currently trying to hit her friend's brother with a bludger," he said, adjusting his half-moon spectacles, looking at a mirror that stood on the side of his desk, displaying an image of the quidditch stadium. "Practicing, she calls it,"

Alaric looked intrigued at the small magical mirror. The enchantments placed on the artifact connected it to another of the same kind, displaying the live image of the stadium.

All of a sudden, the high window of the office opened, and from it, something came flying. It had crimson feathers on its body and a golden tail as long as a peacock's. The bird was roughly the size of a swan. His claws and beak were gleaming gold, the latter long, and his eyes were black.

The red bird, instead of landing in its designated spot, decided to land on Alaric's head.

"Fawkes!" Dumbledore exclaimed, "About time, my friend,"

The headmaster slowly got up, before taking some treats out of a drawer. He approached the bird, feeding it some of them, "I see you've taken a liking to my nephew," he chuckled.

Alaric scrutinized the bird resting in his crown, studying its details. "Is this - No way, right?" he asked, in disbelief, thinking that his mind was playing tricks with him.

"A Phoenix," Dumbledore said, petting his friend's feathers, "Fawkes has been my companion for a long time,"

Fawkes then nestled on Alaric's head, eventually falling asleep, causing the uncle and nephew pair to laugh.

Alaric and Dumbledore talked until late in the night, sharing some stories and experiences. The younger one didn't have as much as the older one had to chronicle, so he spent most of the time listening to the headmaster's young adventures with his grandfather.

As the moon shone brightly in the star-painted sky, Alaric eventually went back to his common room. He still had his apprehensions about his new uncle. He felt like he was hiding something, that was slowly eating him away from inside.

Spending so much time reading other people's thoughts, Alaric had developed a knack for interpreting one's mood. Yet, the feeling of security and warmth that a family member provided made him dismiss his concern.

Mayhap, with time, his uncle would reveal what was causing him so much distress.

__________

As the time entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake was like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows, defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

With the start of the Quidditch season, the Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and beans, with the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

On the farthest end of the Slytherin table, four students were silently enjoying their breakfast and company. Sometimes, there's no need to talk between friends but only relish their presence.

Alaric was carefully examining the egg benedict he was eating, wondering if he could bring one of his house elves for an internship in the school's kitchen.

Steps rang near them, causing the group to look at the flushed auburn-haired witch who had just come in running.

"Malfoy..." muttered Tracey to her friends between her gasps for hair.

"Malfoy what?" asked Theodore, curious of what had the blonde ferret done this time.

It was widely known that after Alaric's and Draco's confrontation before the sorting ceremony, the Malfoy heir had taken on a personal vendetta against him. Not as worse as the one against Potter, mind you, but annoying enough that led the Grindelwald boy to cause some 'accidents'.

"Don't tell me -" said Blaise, his face slowly melting into an expression full of horror

"F-Flint is going to have... him play as the seeker," Tracey continued, still breathless.

"I guess his donation worked..." whispered Theodore.

Alaric sighed. He loved Quidditch, so much that he planned to try out and dominate next year. He couldn't stand the fact that someone with little to no experience was starting as a field player just because his daddy had spent a bit of money. If he was at least someone with experience, Alaric wouldn't complain as much, but after hearing that Draco had barely touched a Quaffle, not to talk about the Snitch, he was feeling murderous.

"Well," he said, lifting from his seat, "You won't catch me in the stadium today,"

Blaise and Theodore didn't say much, seeing him leave. Both knew how much Alaric loved the sport, so they could comprehend his feeling of seeing the house's team's chances of winning, being butchered by a kid with a tree up his ass.

Daphne, seeing her breathless friend chug liters of water, looked at the other two boys in front of her. While she didn't detest their company, they weren't as enjoyable to be around as Alaric.

Seeing as she didn't like Quidditch that much, she also got up, before following the leaving silver-haired boy.

__________

[Alaric's Pov]

As I walked through the corridors of the castle, the cold stone floor sounded beneath my shoes. Daphne decided to follow me, going wherever I was going, not uttering a word.

While I had grown rather fond of the blond-haired girl, her excessive use of Occlumency would piss me off, from time to time.

I decided to make my way to the common room, thinking it would be a good idea to, once more, show my superiority in wizards' chess against her.

Stepping into the ever-changing stairs, we calmly walked down, before, suddenly, the stairs started to move, changing our path.

Instead of leading us to the dungeons, the stairs led us to the fifth floor.

"Weird," muttered Daphne. Indeed. Normally the stairs would only change one or two floors, maybe three at times, but never this much.

Shrugging, we were about to turn back, before I noticed something weird in the corner of my vision.

Taking a better look, I noticed some whispers of... magic? I could feel it was magic, yet I had never seen something of this kind. I even had a dictionary stashed away in my suitcase, translating all types of magic imprints.

I approached the silver whispers, but I never reached them. I could hear voices, as when I use legilimency, whispering something to me, something I couldn't understand.

"Alaric?" I heard Daphne call. Still, I continued to follow the silver light, walking along the corridors of the fifth floor.

I walked and walked, before arriving at a brick wall, where the light passed through it. Recognizing the magic residue of an illusion, I quickly waved my hand, not caring that I was accompanied, "Revelio,"

Before me, were a set of stairs that were hidden, a thick fog covering them. Going up the stairs, breaking through the fog, I came across another corridor.

"What in Merlin is this," whispered Daphne. The corridor was full of ice chunks, some on the ceiling, others firm on the floor and walls. The temperature had dropped, but nothing we couldn't handle.

Resuming my walk, I continued to follow the light, while Daphne treaded behind me, apprehensive.

Soon, we came across a door, which, the moment we approached, opened by itself. Beyond the door, the corridor continued. However, this time, the walls were covered in ominous symbols made, and the floor was littered with shattered ice. The walls and floor were, blue, frozen from the cold temperature.

In the distance, an ominous great door could be seen, a giant snowflake symbol embedded into it.

As we walked into the corridor, the ice crunched beneath our feet. The whispers were getting louder and louder, as the silver light phased beyond the door. The atmosphere became increasingly tense and unsettling. Ghostly apparitions could be seen in the distance, adding to the sense of dread.

Having cast some heavy warming charms on me and Daphne, we approached the door.

"What do you think it is?" she spoke, her icy persona no more, replaced by a genuinely curious girl.

I carefully examined the door. It had countless enchantments and runes to protect its opening, apart from a single key. The key wasn't specified, so it could be anything.

Even if made of ice, it seemed to be impenetrable, reinforced by layers upon layers of magic.

Daphne stretched her hand, touching the door, just to jerk her hand back, her fingers burnt from the sheer cold of the ice.

Reacting to her touch, the chamber started to tremble. From above, one by one, enchanted armors, completely covered by ice, started to descend. In syntony, all of them looked at me and Daphne, not moving, as if observing us.

The armor at the front of the formation raised its sword, before rushing at Daphne at incredible speeds.

"DAPHNE, WATCH OUT!" I shouted, seeing the frosted knight swinging its sword down at her.

With her wand already in her hand, she was able to cast a protection charm right before being hit. Still, the force of the attack pushed her against the wall, passing out.

This time, the armor rushed at me, ready to cut me down.

Not wasting a single second, I shot a severing charm at the armor, cutting it in half, and stopping its advances. The other armors started to attack as well, all of their attacks being blocked by a Protego.

Being greatly outnumbered, I transfigured the icy floor underneath me into several spikes, being able to gain some distance between the armors.

"Deprimo!" I chanted, a great downward force locking all of the animated frosted armors in place, shattering the ground.

With a swish of my wand, all of the immobilized armors gathered in the same spot, before I pointed my wand at them, "Fiendyre," I muttered.

From the tip of it, came a barrage of demonic flames, engulfing all of the enemies, incinerating them into oblivion, before they finally stopped.

I look at my wand work, a smirk on my face. A good duel always makes my blood pump.

Having won the confrontation, I looked around me. The once icy corridor was now a normal one, except for the door, still decorated with a snowflake symbol. The curse had melted all of the ice away, leaving the door to be opened.

I could feel that behind it, I would find the answer to these strange whispers and lights.

Nothing like a good mystery to enjoy my time at this school.

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A/N: I decided to use the vaults to deepen his bonds with the characters important to him.

Real challenges will come later on.

Also, I read something a while ago that talked about perfect MCs. If you came here expecting one, then this is not for you. Alaric has his flaws and will continue to have them. Of course, he will go through a lot of character development, yet he won't be perfect.

A perfect Mc just takes immersion from the story, becoming someone the reader can't relate to.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter!