Today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class focused on dealing with a Drowner!
These creatures weren't native to this world. They appeared after the Conjunction of the Spheres, an event that blurred the boundaries between dimensions.
Found lurking near lakes and rivers, they had slimy blue or green skin, webbed hands, razor-sharp claws, and eerie, glowing eyes.
Their hunched figures and long, fin-like spines gave them an unsettling, almost otherworldly look.
Unlike Grindylows, which were mostly territorial and preyed on small fish and unsuspecting wizards, Drowner were pure predators.
They didn't just drown people—they devoured them. Worse, they rarely hunted alone.
"If you… if you ever encounter a Dro-Drowner," Professor Quirrell stammered, his nervous voice barely carrying across the classroom, "you must… must avoid being pulled underwater. Otherwise, you will die. Y-you will definitely die! The Water Monster Repelling Charm… might work, if… if you're far enough away…"
Professor Quirrell wasn't exactly the most inspiring teacher. Apart from a handful of students taking notes—Hermione and Ted among them—most of the class had already tuned him out.
Some were whispering, others doodling, and Seamus was carefully lighting the edge of his parchment on fire just to see if he could do it without getting caught.
But Hermione and Ted weren't about to ignore something as important as a spell designed to keep people from being eaten.
Hermione's hand shot up.
"P-Professor," she said eagerly when Quirrell hesitantly called on her. "What exactly does the Water Monster Repelling Charm do?"
"Ah, the Water M-monster Repelling Charm…" Quirrell's eyes darted around the room, clearly looking for an escape route. "That… that's a fourth-year spell. It's quite d-difficult…"
That was all he offered. Unlike other professors, who enjoyed sharing extra knowledge, Quirrell never bothered to teach beyond the syllabus.
It was one of the many reasons why students found his class so frustrating.
Ted raised his hand next.
"Mr. Epifani?"
"Professor, did the Drowners mutate or evolve after entering our world? Have there been any cases of hybrid species between them and native creatures like Grindylows?"
For the first time, something flickered in Quirrell's eyes—interest. His nervous demeanor shifted, just for a second.
"Oh, that's… that's a very interesting question…" He cleared his throat, his fingers twitching slightly. "Perhaps we could d-discuss this after class."
That was unusual. Professor Quirrell almost never stayed behind to talk to students, yet now he was actually engaging in conversation.
After the lesson, while the other students packed up and left, Ted stayed behind.
For nearly ten minutes, he and Quirrell discussed the genetics of magical creatures, the natural abilities of hybrid species, and the limits of magical inheritance.
It was clear Quirrell had extensive knowledge in this field—almost too much.
If Ted didn't know better, he'd suspect the professor had conducted his own… experiments.
Hermione, who had waited outside, was not pleased. "Why didn't you let me listen?!" she demanded when Ted finally emerged from the classroom.
Ted sighed. "Because, Hermione, do you really think Professor Quirrell would want to discuss the topic of magical crossbreeding in front of a lady?"
She huffed, crossing her arms. "That's ridiculous."
"Well, next time, you can take my place and see if he changes his mind."
After that conversation, Quirrell's attitude toward Ted shifted. He no longer saw him as just another student but as someone worthy of discussion.
Ted wasn't sure whether to be flattered or concerned.
If only Quirrell didn't have a certain Dark Lord living on the back of his head, Ted might have suggested he study genetics in the Muggle world instead.
…
Late that night, Ted lay in bed, his consciousness slipping into the quiet depths of his mind. He had been experimenting with something new—meditation.
The inspiration had come from an old psychology book he had brought to school. It wasn't some magical tome, but an analysis of the human mind written by a renowned Muggle scholar.
The idea fascinated him. If wizards strengthened their magic through emotion and willpower, then perhaps understanding the mind was just as important as studying spellcraft.
Meditation was a common practice across different cultures, from Eastern monks to Jedi in the Star Wars universe. It was a method of sharpening focus, mastering emotions, and unlocking hidden potential.
And for someone like Ted, who relied on his intellect as much as his magic, it was worth a shot.
After a few days of practice, Ted was getting the hang of it.
The sensation of his consciousness deepening, detaching from his body, and stretching outward—or sometimes inward—was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Some might call it inner sight, astral projection, or even a heightened state of awareness.
As a psion, Ted could sense the subtle differences in his perception and guide his mind along the right path. Tonight, the process felt smoother than ever before.
His consciousness drifted beyond the walls of the dormitory, slipping through the corridors like an unseen breeze.
It extended all the way to the Ravenclaw common room, where he sensed something—or rather, someone.
No… two presences.
"Who's there?" a quiet voice asked.
Ms. Gray, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, stood before the bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, lost in thought.
Ted focused, attempting to reach out with his mind. "Ms. Gray?"
The ghost stiffened, her translucent form shimmering faintly. "Who—Ted Epifani? What kind of magic are you using to speak to me? Where are you?"
"Hold on, I'll come to you," Ted responded.
Moments later, he arrived in the common room, still dressed in his pajamas, his wand glowing softly in his hand.
The only light in the room came from the enchanted stars and moon decorating the walls and ceiling, giving the place a dreamlike quality.
"Good evening, Ms. Gray," he greeted with a small nod.
She returned the gesture, still eyeing him with curiosity. "Good evening."
This wasn't their first meeting. Ted often sensed her presence when he played the piano, and she, in turn, always lingered to listen.
Ms. Gray floated a little closer, her interest piqued. "What spell did you use to communicate with me just now?"
Ted scratched the back of his head. "I wasn't using a spell, really. I was experimenting with something—spiritual exploration, I guess. It just… happened."
Her expression turned serious. "Spiritual exploration is not something to be taken lightly. You should only attempt such things after years of study."
Ted nodded. 'She's probably right. If it weren't for my abilities as a psion, I wouldn't even think about trying something like this until at least my fifth year. It's dangerous.'
Wanting to change the subject, he gestured toward her. "What about you? Why are you here so late?"
"Ghosts have little else to do," she said vaguely, hesitating for a moment. A dismissive response seemed to form on her lips, but she stopped herself.
For some reason, she didn't want to lie to him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or perhaps it was because of his music—music that, strangely, felt familiar to her.
With a deep sigh, she admitted, "I come here to remember Mrs. Ravenclaw."
Ted didn't say anything, simply watching as she reached out to touch the statue. Her fingers, of course, passed right through it.
"She… my mother… was Rowena Ravenclaw." Her voice softened. "I am not just 'Ms. Gray.' My real name is Helena. Helena Ravenclaw."
Ted nodded, unfazed. He flicked his wand, summoning a chair, and sat down. "I figured."
Helena blinked in surprise. "You… you guessed that?!"
"Yes. You're not Lady Jane Grey—she was executed at sixteen, and that was less than five hundred years ago. But Nearly Headless Nick has been here since before then. That means you've been here much longer."
Many at Hogwarts mistakenly believed Ms. Gray was the tragic Queen Jane Grey, who was briefly crowned before being overthrown and executed. But the timeline didn't add up.
Helena was silent, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time.
She thought of another boy—a charming, clever boy from over forty years ago. The one who had deceived her. The one who had led her to ruin.
But Ted wasn't like him. There was something different about him.
They talked for hours, and before Helena knew it, she had shared more than she ever intended.
Her past mistakes, her regrets, and the endless loneliness that had haunted her for nearly a millennium.
Being a ghost wasn't true existence—it was the wandering of a soul too afraid to move on.
The sky outside began to lighten. Helena suddenly realized how much time had passed. "I've kept you up too long," she murmured. "You should sleep."
Ted gave a small smile. "Don't worry about me. I can enter deep sleep quickly—it only takes an hour."
As he turned to head upstairs, he paused and glanced back at her. "Oh, and Helena? Maybe I shouldn't say this, but… when I reached out earlier, I sensed something else in the room besides you."
Helena stiffened. "Something else?"
Ted nodded, pointing toward the bust of Rowena Ravenclaw. "I don't know what it was, but it felt… hidden. Maybe I imagined it, or maybe—just maybe—there's something there."
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Word count: 1528