By the end of September, Adrian had learned that Cedric’s idea of struggling with a spell was becoming increasingly different from his own.
They were sitting across from each other in the common room, finishing their Transfiguration notes while rain tapped against the small windows.
Cedric had completed his practical exercise that morning with enough time left to repeat it, whereas Adrian had spent most of the lesson persuading his result to hold its shape.
Cedric had been staring at the same sentence long enough that Adrian set down his quill.
“Want me to take a look?”
“It’s the last part.” Cedric slid the parchment across and pointed to the line he had crossed out twice.
“I know what I did, but that makes it sound as though I’m guessing.”
Adrian read the paragraph, then looked at the correction beside it.
Cedric had completed the transformation three times that morning, improving each attempt after McGonagall adjusted his technique.
Adrian had needed considerably more help to produce something that held its shape.
“Tell me how you did it,” he said.
“Don’t worry about making it sound like the textbook.”
Cedric explained, demonstrating the last part of the wand movement with an empty hand.
Without the pressure of writing it down, his explanation was clear enough that Adrian finally understood one of the corrections he had struggled with during the lesson.
“That.
Write that down.”
Cedric took the parchment back and began again, pausing occasionally to reread what he had written.
His progress had become difficult to miss over the past few weeks.
He remembered corrections, put them into practice, and was beginning to answer questions without first looking around to see whether someone else would volunteer.
Flitwick had asked him to demonstrate for their row, and McGonagall had kept his finished work at the front of the classroom until the lesson ended.
Adrian liked seeing him pleased with himself.
He also intended to sit beside him for as long as Cedric was willing to explain things.
An older girl approached while Cedric was finishing the paragraph, carrying two books against her chest.
“Have you two finished with mine?”
Adrian looked at the reference book between them and closed it after checking with Cedric.
Eleanor Finch, a third-year Hufflepuff, had lent it to them earlier when she overheard them disagreeing about their notes.
“Yeah, thanks.
You saved us another trip to the library.”
“I thought it might help.” She accepted the book, then glanced at Cedric’s parchment.
“All sorted?”
“I think so,” Cedric said, finishing his sentence before looking up with a smile.
“Thank you.”
Eleanor smiled back, and Adrian rested his elbow on the table.
“If you keep rescuing us from homework, I’m gonna start looking forward to it.”
“Then I’d better stop before you expect me to write it for you.”
“I’d settle for the company.”
She laughed and tapped the closed book lightly against the table.
“Finish your own work, Adrian.”
He watched her return to her friends, then looked back to find Cedric holding out the rewritten paragraph.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Adrian grinned and took it.
This version needed only one small correction, and they were soon working quietly again.
A little later, a prefect entered from the passage and stopped beside their table.
“The Weasley twins are outside asking for you.
They say it’s important.”
Cedric marked his place with a finger.
“Did they say what it was?”
“No, which makes me doubt that it is.”
Adrian was already putting the stopper in his ink bottle.
He waited while Cedric finished the line he was writing, then collected his notebook.
“You don’t even know what they want,” Cedric said, getting to his feet.
“That’s why we’re going to ask.”
Fred and George were waiting beside the barrels when Adrian and Cedric emerged.
Fred pushed away from the wall at the sight of them, while George peered at the notebook beneath Adrian’s arm.
“Good, you’ve brought that.
There’s something we want you to draw.”
“We found a mirror upstairs,” Fred explained as they started down the corridor.
“It won’t show anything.
George stood right in front of it, and you could still only see the wall around him.”
“Perhaps it’s meant to be like that,” Cedric suggested.
“Then I want to know what it’s for.”
Adrian understood that well enough to follow without asking anything else.
The twins led them up several flights of stairs and into a quiet corridor, where rain streaked the narrow windows and most of the portraits’ occupants appeared to be asleep.
George stopped at an alcove containing a tall mirror with an elaborate metal frame.
Its surface was completely dark.
Adrian approached at an angle, expecting to catch some reflection from the window opposite, but even close up he couldn’t see himself.
“We tried wiping it,” George said, pointing to a smear near the bottom.
“That’s all it did.”
Cedric moved toward one side to examine how the frame was attached to the wall, while Adrian studied the decoration.
Something about the mirror tugged at his attention beyond ordinary curiosity, the same faint pull he sometimes felt near valuable or unusual objects.
It had drawn him toward plenty of things at Hogwarts, but it was rarely considerate enough to explain why.
He crouched beside the lower edge.
Among the curling metal leaves was a small recess shaped like an insect with spread wings.
Adrian ran his eyes around its outline, then took out his wand for a better look.
“Lumos.”
The light appeared after a moment’s concentration.
As he brought it closer, a pale patch spread across the dark glass.
“Hold it there,” Cedric said, stepping back to see the whole surface.
Adrian kept his hand steady while an image formed in the mirror.
It showed a narrow window beside an archway, with part of a tapestry visible along one edge.
The view remained fixed when he moved his head.
Fred looked over his shoulder toward the corridor.
“We passed that.
Look, there’s the torn corner.”
George went to check, returning a few moments later to beckon from the doorway.
“It’s just round here.”
Adrian lowered his wand, and the image faded almost immediately.
He raised it again to make sure, watching the window reappear.
Cedric leaned closer, careful not to block the light.
“Why show us somewhere we can walk to?”
“Maybe there’s something there.” Adrian looked once more at the insect-shaped recess, then stood.
“Let’s check.”
They found the archway exactly where George had indicated.
Fred examined the wall beside it while his brother lifted the edge of the tapestry, earning an irritated complaint from the wizard woven into it.
“Put that down.
You’re letting the draught in.”
George released it with a quick apology, and Cedric moved aside to inspect the windowsill.
Adrian raised his wand to look above the arch.
A small shape clung to the stone, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding shadows until the light reached it.
Its wings opened, revealing a metallic sheen that reminded him of the mirror’s frame.
“Up there,” he said, keeping his voice low.
The moth lifted from the wall and fluttered toward his wand.
Adrian held still as it circled the glowing tip, then slowly moved his hand to one side.
It followed.
Fred came closer, watching over his shoulder.
“Can you get it back to the mirror?”
“I think so.
Give me a little room.”
They returned along the corridor at a careful pace, with Adrian holding his wand ahead of him.
Whenever he moved too quickly, the moth fell behind, so he slowed and let it catch up.
Cedric walked beside him, keeping the others from crowding close enough to knock his arm.
At the mirror, Adrian brought the light toward the recess.
The moth hovered above it for a moment before settling into the frame, its wings fitting the empty shape precisely.
A small click came from somewhere inside the metalwork, and Adrian instinctively stepped back.
The glass cleared.
For the first time, he could see all four of them reflected in it, Fred leaning forward between him and Cedric while George watched the bottom of the frame.
Something pale slipped from beneath the moth.
George caught the narrow sheet before it reached the floor, then turned it over in his hands.
Adrian lowered his wand to illuminate the faded writing.
There was a drawing of the mirror at the top and a short passage beneath it:
The missing piece seldom lies far away.
Bring light to the glass, and look beyond your reflection.
Fred read it, then glanced toward the corridor.
“Would’ve helped to find that first.”
“I think that would spoil it,” Cedric said, examining the little moth now resting motionless in the frame.
Adrian took the parchment when George offered it.
The writing suggested somebody had intended the mirror to be solved, although he couldn’t tell whether the sheet was a reward, an explanation, or simply the maker enjoying a final word.
He liked it regardless.
“Anybody mind if I keep this?”
Neither twin objected, and Cedric helped him hold his notebook open while he tucked the sheet between the pages.
Adrian added the location and a quick sketch of the frame, making sure to mark where the moth had fitted.
George watched him write.
“We should look for another one.”
Adrian glanced up at the mirror, which now looked ordinary enough that he might have walked straight past it.
“We probably should.”
By the following Saturday, they had found two misleading doors, a passage that ended behind a classroom cupboard, and a portrait willing to provide directions once somebody listened to his account of a hunting accident.
Cedric had tried to leave halfway through the story, prompting the man to begin again because he had apparently failed to explain the importance of the horse.
Afterwards, George dictated the directions while Adrian recorded them beneath his sketch of the moth mirror.
Fred insisted they include a warning about asking questions.
“Especially about the horse,” Cedric added, leaning over to check the route.
“Put that in.”
Their next discovery came while they were looking for a staircase George remembered passing earlier in the week.
A small silver object shot past Adrian’s ear, making him duck as Fred turned and nearly walked into Cedric.
The object stopped near the ceiling, revealing a narrow shaft beneath two rapidly beating wings.
George pointed after it.
“That’s a key.”
It darted ahead as they approached, paused near a doorway, then disappeared up a short flight of steps.
They followed, with Fred reaching the landing first and stopping so abruptly that George caught his shoulder to avoid colliding with him.
A wooden cabinet stood against the wall, its doors decorated with curling branches.
The key hovered in front of the lock, drifting close enough to enter before veering away again.
Fred reached for it.
The key slipped between his fingers, circled his wrist, and returned to its place in front of the cabinet.
“Let me try,” George said, moving beside him.
His attempt earned him a sharp tap against the knuckles.
He pulled his hand back and watched the key with considerably less affection.
Cedric stepped closer to examine the lock.
“It keeps coming back here.
Leave it a moment.”
They watched while the key made another slow pass.
Adrian noticed that it crossed directly in front of the keyhole each time, and George moved his hand toward the door without trying to catch it.
On the next pass, he struck with his palm.
The key shot into the lock, turned, and brought both doors swinging open.
Fred clapped his brother on the shoulder.
“There you are.”
Inside, four brass tokens sat in separate recesses, each stamped with a different animal.
A lion occupied the upper left, with a badger beneath it, while an eagle and a serpent filled the other side.
Adrian felt a faint pull toward the cabinet as he leaned closer, though the others needed no encouragement to inspect it.
George reached for the badger.
It wouldn’t move.
He tried getting a fingernail beneath the edge, then frowned and withdrew his hand.
“That one’s stuck.”
Fred tested the serpent with similar results before moving to the lion.
It lifted easily into his palm.
“I’ve got one.”
Cedric looked at the token, then at the badger still in its recess.
“Let me.”
It came free at his touch.
For a moment, they stood comparing the two tokens.
Adrian reached for the eagle, gave it a gentle pull, and found it as firmly fixed as the others had been.
“The Houses,” Cedric said.
“It’s only letting us take our own.”
George held out his hand for Fred’s token, inspected the lion, then checked the now-empty recess.
Nothing appeared in its place.
“One each,” he said, looking back at his brother.
“Not one each.”
Fred closed his fingers around the token when George returned it.
“We can share.”
“Very generous, considering I opened it.”
Cedric turned the badger over, tracing a pattern on the reverse with his thumb.
Adrian recognised the design, but his friend spoke before he could place it.
“The chest in our common room.
This is on the lid.”
Fred looked up.
“We’ve got a chest as well.
By the stairs.”
George nodded slowly, apparently picturing it.
“Percy told us to stop sitting on it.”
That gave them a reason to head back, although Adrian opened his notebook before they left.
He drew the cabinet and marked its location while Cedric described the design on the token.
George corrected the position of the staircase, then took the quill when Adrian offered it and added a small arrow.
Fred leaned over his shoulder.
“Put down who found the key.”
“I found it,” George said.
“It nearly took Adrian’s ear off.
We all found it.”
Adrian checked the page when George handed it back.
Beneath the sketch, in cramped writing, was a note crediting George with opening the cabinet.
He left it there.
Before they went, Cedric looked at the eagle and serpent still waiting inside.
“We should tell someone from Ravenclaw and Slytherin.”
“Once we know what ours do,” Fred said, slipping the lion into his pocket.
“Meet you by the entrance hall after?”
They agreed and separated at the next staircase, with the twins heading upward while Adrian and Cedric took the route toward the kitchens.
Cedric knelt beside the chest beneath the common-room window, holding the token against the matching design on its lid.
Adrian crouched beside him, watching as a narrow opening appeared beneath the carved badger.
Cedric slid the token inside, and something clicked deep within the chest.
A small section of the pattern filled with polished brass.
The lid remained firmly shut.
Toby looked over from the nearest sofa.
“What did you do?”
“Found something for it,” Cedric said, sitting back on his heels.
He counted the unfilled sections while Adrian tried the lid, though neither expected it to open now that they could see how much of the design remained incomplete.
Toby joined them, and Maisie followed when he called her over.
Between them, Cedric and Adrian explained the key, the cabinet, and the four tokens.
“So there are two still upstairs?” Maisie asked.
“The eagle and the snake,” Adrian said.
“We couldn’t get those out.”
Eleanor looked up from the armchair beside the window.
“You’ve started collecting for the House chest?”
Cedric turned toward her.
“You know about it?”
“A little.
One of the older girls showed me when I was in first year.
Every House has one, apparently, but I’ve never seen ours open.”
Adrian stood and brushed the dust from his knees.
“Do you know what’s in it?”
“No.
She didn’t either.”
Toby examined the filled section.
“Why did everyone stop looking?”
Eleanor shrugged.
“Homework, Quidditch, other things to do.
You can’t spend every afternoon chasing keys.”
Adrian and Cedric exchanged a glance.
“You could spend a few,” Cedric said.
Adrian smiled.
“That sounds reasonable.”
Eleanor laughed and returned to her reading while the others continued inspecting the chest.
Before leaving to meet the twins, Adrian opened the notebook on a nearby table.
Cedric drew the pattern from the lid while Maisie counted the empty spaces again, and Toby pointed out a section they had missed near the hinge.
The resulting sketch was neater than Adrian’s drawing of the cabinet, so he let Cedric label it too.
The twins were waiting beneath the main staircase, Fred turning their token over his fingers.
Adrian slowed when he saw it.
“Yours didn’t work?”
“We wanted to see what happened to yours first,” George explained.
Cedric described the brass section that had appeared on the chest, and Fred closed his hand around the lion.
“Right.
We’ll put it in after lunch.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Professor Flitwick approaching from the corridor.
He noticed the token before Fred could pocket it and stopped beside them with an interested smile.
“Oh, you’ve found one.”
All four turned toward him.
“There are more cabinets, then?” George asked.
“Indeed there are.
“We think so, Professor,” Fred said.
“They’ve tried theirs already.”
Flitwick looked pleased as Cedric explained what had happened, then glanced at Adrian’s open notebook.
“A record of your discoveries?
Very useful.
Some of those passages are easily confused.”
“Did you ever finish a chest?” Adrian asked.
The professor smiled.
“I shan’t spoil the contents for you.
Though I would be delighted to hear when you manage it.”
He continued toward the stairs, leaving them watching him go.
Fred turned back first.
“We need another key.”
Adrian tucked the notebook beneath his arm.
“After lunch.”
For once, nobody argued.
Three days later, Fred caught Adrian and Cedric leaving the library and beckoned them toward the stairs.
“Come on.
George found another key.”
They followed him up to a landing near the unused classroom, where George stood beside an open cabinet.
As they approached, Cedric recognised the narrow window and nudged Adrian, who glanced at the cabinet before understanding.
George was already watching them.
“I thought so,” he said, pointing to the empty badger recess.
“When did you get here?”
“Yesterday,” Cedric admitted, smiling as Fred turned toward him.
“You could have said.
I’ve just brought you up two flights of stairs.”
“We didn’t know where you were taking us,” Adrian said.
“You got here before lunch, though.
We spent half of yesterday looking for the key.”
That seemed to improve Fred’s opinion of the discovery.
He reached into the cabinet and lifted the lion token from its recess, leaving the eagle and serpent in place.
George leaned against the wall.
“Next time we find one, we’re checking for a badger before we come looking for you.”
Cedric laughed and held out his hand for Adrian’s notebook.
Their sketch of the landing was already there, along with the date they had collected their token, and he added a second line beneath it for Gryffindor.
Fred watched him write, then asked for the quill.
“What are you adding?” Cedric asked.
“The important part.”
He returned the notebook with a short note beneath the dates: George caught the key on his first try.
Adrian read it and smiled.
“Okay.
That can stay.”
Adrian had left a note for Kettleburn earlier in the week, asking when he could bring his Bowtruckle observations.
The reply arrived through Hagrid: Saturday morning, after breakfast, provided his schoolwork was finished.
He arrived a few minutes early and found the professor beside a low enclosure, sorting fresh bedding into two buckets.
“Set your bag on the bench,” Kettleburn said, looking up.
“Have you brought the notebook?”
Adrian took it out before putting his bag down.
He had rewritten the account while the visit was still fresh, removing several explanations that sounded more certain than he remembered feeling at the time.
Kettleburn read it while Adrian waited, occasionally looking up when something rustled inside the enclosure.
At one paragraph, he tapped the page.
“You’ve written that it relaxed.”
“I thought it did, but I wasn’t sure how to put it.” Adrian moved closer when the professor turned the notebook toward him.
“The next line says its fingers lowered and it stopped leaning forward.”
“Start with that.
I can picture what happened from the description.”
Adrian nodded and made the correction when Kettleburn handed it back.
The professor let him finish before turning toward the enclosure.
“I need to check their bedding before the next class.
You can stay and help, if you have time.”
“Sure.
What do you need?”
“The empty bucket first.
Leave the fresh material where it is.”
Adrian fetched it and placed it within reach, then stepped aside while Kettleburn opened the enclosure.
Two small creatures disturbed the leaves inside, and Adrian leaned slightly to see them before stopping himself from crowding the opening.
“Can I look from this side?”
“Yes.
Mind you don’t block the light.”
He crouched beside the enclosure while Kettleburn explained what he was checking.
The work was slower than Adrian expected, with pauses to inspect the sheltered corners and give the occupants time to move away before anything was disturbed.
When the professor began removing the old material, Adrian held the bucket steady.
He had several questions, but waited until Kettleburn’s hands were clear before asking why one corner was being left alone.
“It’s clean, and they’ve settled there,” Kettleburn explained.
“No reason to pull everything apart merely because we’ve started.”
Adrian looked at the undisturbed shelter, then moved the bucket closer as the professor reached for another handful.
Over the next half hour, he carried fresh material from the bench, collected a dropped tool, and helped clear the work area.
Once he understood the order of the jobs, he found it easier to anticipate what Kettleburn would need, though he asked before reaching inside the enclosure.
When they finished, the professor checked the latch and gave the door a firm tug.
“Always check it after closing.
Don’t rely on hearing the catch.”
Adrian watched, then repeated the check when Kettleburn stepped aside.
By the time the buckets were emptied and put away, there was soil on his cuffs and a leaf caught against one knee.
He brushed it off before retrieving his notebook.
“Thanks for letting me help.
Could I come back sometime?”
Kettleburn glanced over the cleared bench.
“Saturday mornings would suit me.
There are usually jobs to be done before lunch.”
“That works for me.”
“Schoolwork first,” the professor added.
“And bring this again.
You’ll have something to add after today.”
Adrian tucked the notebook into his bag, already considering what he wanted to record.
He had come to have his writing checked and ended up helping with the animals, which was a considerably better morning than he had expected.
He would make sure his homework was finished by Friday.
He met Avery near the staircase above the entrance hall.
The other boy stood with two Slytherins beside a window, and Adrian would have walked past if Avery hadn’t stepped away from the wall.
“Been helping the groundskeeper?”
Adrian glanced down at his sleeve.
“Kettleburn.”
One of the boys behind Avery smiled.
“Fetching things for him?”
“Mostly.”
Avery appeared dissatisfied with the answer.
Adrian shifted his notebook beneath his arm and moved toward the stairs, but the boy beside Avery spoke before he passed.
“Careful.
He’ll have you cleaning cages next.”
“That’s usually part of keeping animals.”
He didn’t stop walking.
The exchange followed him down the first few steps, not because the words had particularly bothered him, but because Avery had waited until he was alone.
Adrian’s Kneazle sense had offered a faint unease as the boys moved away from the window, though it had told him nothing he couldn’t have guessed from their expressions.
At the bottom of the staircase, Cedric was waiting with his bag over one shoulder.
“There you are.
Fred thinks he’s found another cabinet.”
Adrian looked back once.
Avery was watching from the landing.
Cedric followed his gaze, and his expression changed.
“What did he want?”
“To be annoying.”
“Did he manage it?”
“A little.”
Cedric waited while Adrian adjusted his grip on the notebook, then fell into step beside him.
They found the twins near an empty classroom, arguing over whether a locked cupboard counted as a cabinet if it was large enough to stand inside.
Adrian listened for a moment before looking at the hinges.
“Does it have a keyhole?”
Fred pointed.
George leaned closer, then frowned.
“That’s a knot in the wood.”
Cedric laughed first.
By the time Adrian opened his notebook, he was laughing too.