First Troubles
January 6, 2026 at 6:08 AM
Registering for the special section of the network intended for wizards turned out to be no simple matter — one had to pass a mini-test which Aola, to her surprise, failed twice in a row. Afterward, the system blocked her access entirely for a period of time.
“This is impossible! Where am I going wrong?!”
The questions were easy, designed only to weed out any Muggle who might have stumbled in by accident. A first-year could have handled it! Yet she couldn’t. Aola glared crossly at her mobile, as if it were to blame.
“Here, let me help,” Ted offered readily, having watched her attempts in silence. “I’ll take the test for you.”
He clearly took her for a peer. He had already switched to the informal “you.”
“I would be grateful,” the girl conceded, handing him the smartphone. “A long detachment from civilization hasn’t left me unscathed…”
And then, she noticed with astonishment that the boy’s hair had turned much darker, his eyes had faded to a gray-green, and all his features seemed to shift, altering their proportions. What kind of trickery was this?! Was he trying to hoodwink her under the radar? Aola cast aside the rules of etiquette and quite rudely broke into his consciousness.
She saw a little boy enthusiastically making faces in front of a mirror, changing his features beyond recognition. A Metamorphmagus! A true rarity. He really was just a young lad… and terribly reckless at that. She was rummaging through his memory like her own wardrobe, while he diligently tapped at the screen, noticing nothing.
“Done,” he announced with a smile. “Will you register the account yourself, or do you need help?”
“I think I can manage. Thank you for bailing me out. It was very kind of you.”
“It is nothing… Once you are on Witchbook, add me as a friend. Here is my account,” he pulled out his own phone. “Let me send you the link…”
“Directly to friends?” Aola smiled and propped her cheek on her hand. “And will Marie-Victoire like that, do you think?”
“Oops…” The boy flushed to the very tips of his ears and suddenly reverted to his original appearance. He didn’t even think to use Occlumency. He just smiled a bit helplessly and confessed honestly: “I didn’t even realize when you… I thought I was just a bit seasick — my head spun for a moment.”
“I am sorry. I was a bit unsettled by your… unstable appearance.”
“Oh, that? I am a Metamorphmagus. When I get a bit nervous, it just happens on its own…”
“And what made you nervous, Theodore? Will Marie-Victoire be displeased after all? She is very pretty.”
“I just wanted to chat, what is wrong with that?” The boy twirled his phone in his fingers, casting his eyes down. “It is just that it irritates her when people call her that.”
He gave a wry grin. Aola smiled back. “I think it would irritate me too. And why are you traveling by ferry?”
“I don’t really know… just felt like it suddenly. I love the sea.”
Thus, through chatter about everything and nothing, two hours flew by faster than she had expected. Soon, the White Cliffs of Dover appeared on the horizon, followed by the pier. Customs control for wizards was a mere formality — one could hand the man in uniform a page from a magazine, as long as one projected the right information.
“Where are you off to now?” Ted asked as they left the terminal.
“To London. I am going to try to find an old friend.”
“Let me walk you. Or at least I can give you the mental image. Where specifically are you headed?”
“Somewhere near Diagon Alley,” the girl replied, reaching out her hand. A second later, they were pushed out onto Charing Cross Road, and Aola nearly gasped in amazement — everything here had changed so much… Only the Leaky Cauldron seemed to have resisted the influence of time.
“Well, here we are…” her companion nodded toward the pub. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Aola.”
“Thank you for the help and the company, Ted,” she offered her hand. He gave her fingers a light squeeze.
“I hope we will see each other again? Message me, I will be happy to chat.”
“Of course,” she lied, knowing full well she would not write. Let the golden-haired Marie-Victoire sleep peacefully…
Diagon Alley, like almost everything in the wizarding world — unlike the rapidly rushing life on Charing Cross Road — remained almost exactly as it had been three-quarters of a century ago. This calmed Aola slightly and restored her confidence. There was Ollivander’s, where first-years had been buying their wands for years. Over there was Slug & Jiggers Apothecary; it was over eight hundred years old now. If an apothecary could last that long… why shouldn’t Tommy be alive and well?
Not knowing where to begin her search, she decided to simply ask about Mr. Riddle in the first shops she came across. If not the man himself, then surely his children and grandchildren must appear here. The Lady was about to turn into the apothecary, but then a “barker” flew out of a shop on the corner of a lilac building and began calling customers into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Weasley! She was in luck; surely this family would know something about Tom.
Waiting for the “screamer” to go off in a bang of colored confetti, Aola pushed open the glass door and found herself in a large room, piled to the ceiling with magical gadgets, pranks, toys, and potions. A good half of them were not just sitting on the shelves but were whistling, flashing, and jumping. Pygmy Puffs in a cage began to purr like kittens and clung to the bars, sticking out long pink tongues through the wire. Aola smiled at the funny creatures and walked up to the counter.
A large Redhead man of about thirty-five or forty, his face covered in freckles, broke into a smile and asked: “Looking for something specific, Miss? Want to play a prank on someone? Or a surprise gift?”
“Not exactly. Your shop is very entertaining, but it is not the merchandise I am interested in. Mr. Weasley, if I am not mistaken?”
“The very one, Ronald Weasley.” The polite smile faded slightly, and a silent question appeared in his eyes.
“My name is Aola Meroving, and I am looking for an old friend of mine. He once studied at Hogwarts. Perhaps you or someone in your family is acquainted with him or has heard something about him?”
“What is his name?” the Redhead man asked. “I will tell you if I know.”
“Mr. Riddle. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Do you know him? I haven’t…” the Lady trailed off, watching in astonishment as Mr. Weasley’s blue eyes nearly bulged out of his head and his pale skin flushed. Within seconds, his face resembled the color of a ripe tomato.
“You brat, have you no shame at all?!” the shopkeeper’s voice screeched. “WHO do you think you are pranking?! What kind of old friend is that piece of filth to you?! Get out of here while the going is good, before I call the proper authorities and hand you over to where you belong!” He slammed his palm onto the counter, and a second later, a wand was in his hand.
“How dare you?” The Duchess had not expected such a reaction at all. “Who are you calling a brat?! I probably taught your grandfather, Septimus!”
It is unknown what turn the situation would have taken, but at that moment, a fierce roar erupted from the Lady’s handbag; Abu had heard the conversation from start to finish. Well, a roar… since the Lady had cast a Shrinking Charm on him, a voice like an angry Disney cartoon character squeaked from the bag:
“Ah, you fruit of a skittish donkey’s adultery and a mangy jackal! How dare you speak this way to Lady Aola, daughter of my savior, heir to the House of Meroving?! I will come out and rip out your filthy tongue to feed it to the stray dogs! And then I will rip open your belly, pull out your rotten guts, and wind them around your foul throat!”
“Abu!” the Lady exclaimed warningly.
Mr. Ronald Weasley blinked his pale lashes and howled: “OUT!!!”
Aola hurried to retreat. She did not want to start a massacre in her first hour in London. Moving away from the shop whose owner had been so enraged by her simple question, she gently scolded the jinni for his overly aggressive defense and grew somber.
Ronald Weasley’s reaction spoke clearer than anything: Tom had indeed become involved in that magic war… and he had supported, by all appearances, anything but the Light side. This deeply saddened the girl… and did little to clarify his current position. Was he alive? In exile? In Azkaban? Or… killed? Who could she turn to for information, and would it provoke the same storm of rage? Who knew, maybe they even had some law now where you could be thrown in prison for a single question? After all, Teddy had also flatly refused to talk about the war.
Teddy! The Internet! He said everything could be found there! Aola hastily pulled her mobile from her bag, but to her disappointment, there was no cellular signal in Diagon Alley — the antenna at the top of the screen was crossed out.
Feeling dejected, the girl wandered toward the exit of the magical alley. Perhaps she shouldn’t have started this search at all? The outcome would clearly bring her only pain and disappointment.
A tall man with a beard down to his waist and a thick mane of hair beginning to turn gray stomped past her, humming a simple tune. He was clearly in an excellent mood. Aola even felt a pang of envy — look how happy the man was… singing. She watched his mountain-like figure in baggy robes. And when he disappeared around the corner, it hit her like a bolt of lightning — that was Hagrid!
The half-giant boy with whom she and Tom had stolen a unicorn at the Easter Fair in Hogsmeade! And although a lot of water had flowed under the bridge since then, Aola recognized the voice, the gait, and the song about slugs and snails. “Because a slug has no little home — he’s a wanderer and a rogue, the wild wind” — it went something like that!
He had respected her so much for her love of animals, for helping free the poor beast, that he had sworn never to tell a soul about a kiss he had accidentally witnessed with the most terrible oath he could come up with. He was honest and guileless… he would not refuse to tell her what had become of Tom.
Aola hurried after Hagrid, but he had already vanished from sight, and she could not find which shop the giant had turned into. However, the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron sold her some ginger ale and, without any hysterics, told her that Hagrid now taught at Hogwarts and lived there, in a hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The Lady Apparated to Hogsmeade directly from the pub. At first, she almost ran down the road toward the school, but then she suddenly slowed her pace and walked very quietly, realizing that this path would end sooner than she would like.
