Teg The House Elf

The Muggle Studies room seemed similar to most other Hogwarts classrooms. The most significant difference was that there were items from the Muggle world instead of crystal balls or jars of slimy ingredients. 

Artifacts of the Muggles' ways were displayed around the room. The pieces looked out of place with the moving paintings hanging on the walls, though it was nice to see something a little familiar to Hope. Even if the bike they had was much older than the models she'd grown up with.

Soon enough, she'd have students in the seats to learn about Muggle's ways. Was she really up for this? Could she be a teacher?

Oh, right, professor.

Well, her inner thoughts interrupted suddenly, Alaric taught. How difficult could it be?

Hope smiled at the thought before glancing up as the door to Muggle Studies opened, and Albus stepped through, closing the door behind him.

"Finding you smiling is a good sign?" Albus smiled fondly as he stepped toward her, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Hm," Hope smiled, adjusting the collar of his suit, "I feel pretty good about it."

"I'm glad," he stroked her jaw lightly, blue eyes twinkling, "may I know what caused the smile?"

Biting her lip, she shrugged. "Just thinking of someone I knew. Alaric. He basically established the Salvatore Boarding School. Before that, he was a high school history teacher slash vampire hunter."

Albus raised a brow and smiled. "Oh?"

With a laugh, she nodded and rested her hands on his wait. "Hm, long story short, his vampire-obsessed wife became a vampire herself, faked her disappearance, and had him searching and hunting to find and avenge her," pursing her lips, she nodded, "But that doesn't really work out for the people who don't want to be found."

He nodded, glancing around the room with searching eyes.

"Doing a little rearranging, I see?" Albus asked, turning his gaze on her.

A small squeeze of her stomach and she looked around, shaking her head. "Not much…" But she could feel the heat form on the back of her neck from the intensity of his gaze.

"The mirrors are gone," he murmured, but she didn't meet his eyes, "there were five in total in this room, and now there are none."

Hope looked the walls over; she had filled the vacant spots where she'd removed the mirrors with other decorations from a storage area she'd found a few rooms away. She parted her lips to defend herself, to explain why she'd taken them down, but that squeeze in her stomach squeezed her throat now.

"Hey," Albus took her face between his hands and guided her eyes to his. Now, she couldn't look away no matter how much she wanted to, lost in the kindness that offered a safe haven, "I understand. You don't need to justify your reasons to me; I just want you to know that you can keep your fear safe with me."

Hope swallowed and nodded, jaw tightening, but a firm brush of his thumb relaxed it again.

"I know." She finally breathed and sighed softly. "I'm not afraid of them. I don't like the way they make me feel."

Albus nodded, furrowing his brow. "How do they make you feel?"

"Like…" she searched for the words. "Like I'm starting to get a bad headache. I can't focus when I look at it, but I'm not…afraid of it."

I'm not afraid.

"I believe you." He smiled softly before squeezing her hands. "Maybe the memories of being in that world bring back rather unpleasant memories and…"

"I don't think that's it," Hope frowned, thinking back to when they were at the hotel, "I could be around mirrors when we were in New York. I can look in the mirror at Hogs Head. It's here. Only here that it bothers my eyes."

"Your eyes?"

Hope nodded, rubbing between her eyes. "It hurts behind my eyes."

Frowning, he pressed the pad of his thumb against the space between her eyes and massaged the area lightly. "Have you been drinking blood?"

Hope nodded and murmured, "Mmhm," as she practically melted against his touch.

"Are you sure?" Albus asked gently.

Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him, the corners of her mouth pulling down. "Yeah, I'm sure, Albus. I've been drinking blood."

"I only ask because I've seen the stock in the kitchens while picking a few things up, and none of the inventory has been touched since we returned to the castle."

Hope shook her head. "Then they're wrong with their numbers or have added to it since. I had some this morning."

He offered another nod and a tight smile. "Alright," he rubbed up and down her arms lightly, "are you ready for lunch?"

"You're changing the subject?" Hope asked, arching a brow.

"I-"

"And don't say you're not," she pulled back and ran a hand through her hair, "you don't have to believe me, but don't say you do when it's not true."

Albus shook his head, brows furrowing. "I do believe you, Hope. I'm just offering us a moment to collect our thoughts with a break before we continue forward."

Grinding her teeth, she shook her head, a dark shade of red glazing over her vision. "Great."

"Hope-"

"I have work to do." She turned to her desk and started mindlessly stacking papers that didn't need stacking, biting back the venomous words that coated her tongue.

The awkward silence lasted one excruciatingly long minute.

"I'll see you in a little while," Albus said softly before leaving her alone.

It took some time for Hope's ears to stop buzzing. She massaged her jaw, realizing only then that they were aching from being tense. Maybe Albus had been right; perhaps she hadn't had enough blood that morning, and it was making her hungry.

Sighing, she'd have to apologize for snapping at him, but she had to focus on her mood swings right now.

Making her way to the kitchens, she passed a few house elves that dodged out of her way. Frowning, she shook her head and continued on.

What has them so skittish?

Hope entered the kitchens through the portrait and directly to the section where her blood supply was held under lock and key. She opened it with her key and pulled the heavy steel door back, revealing the pile of bags.

She stood there, perplexed, staring at the organized piles. Each had exactly twenty-five bags that filled perfectly to make a flat bed at the top. However, each box was filled. As if none had been touched, as Albus said.

Turning to the piece of parchment hung on the wall, she checked the date the blood had last been refilled.

Two weeks ago.

"That's impossible."

Hope had been drinking a bag almost every day. Half of the box in front of her should have been gone by now, but it seemed it hadn't been touched.

The sudden scuttle sound of little feet echoed to her left. Hope turned to look and watched a House Elf quickly hide behind one of the cupboards.

"Are you alright?" Hope asked, walking toward him, keeping the parchment clutched between her fingers. "Hey," she moved around the cabinet to see he'd scurried in another direction, "I just had a question about the parchment. What are you doing?" Hope frowned, watching as he hid behind a flour sack, shakily speaking from behind it.

"I answered already, Miss. Please, don't get angry. Teg's eye is still sore from earlier."

Blinking, Hope shook her head. "What do you mean? Why is your eye sore?"

Teg coward lower, shaking in his little uniform. A sense of dread and grief filled Hope. "Teg," she asked softly, moving to her knees, "did someone hurt you?"

Teg peered at her with big eyes and nodded slowly, ears trembling.

"Who?" Hope asked gently, her mind pulling up a picture of the man in the mirror.

But instead of describing a cloaked man hurting him, Teg lifted a finger and pointed.

At Hope.