Chapter 3 – Quidditch and Feasts

Two sets of footsteps clacked against the stone stairs as Neria and Morrigan descended the steps of Dumbledore's office. Both were dismissed, leaving Harry to have what seemed like an important conversation about something or other. Now they had all of Hogwarts to explore and more to learn.

But where to go? The Blight veterans did not know. So far, the most they had planned was to privately discuss their goals for the future. And so, with this in mind, the two set off to find a quiet place to chat about their foreseeable future.

However, Neria found her eyes and ears wandering to the students around her. In their little groups, they talked, whispering about the latest gossip as they sat on the ground or walked through the halls. But that was not what drew her attention, but what they were gossiping about. It seemed, from what she could eavesdrop, that her little spat with that painting had spread around Hogwarts like wildfire. It was amusing, if in a dark way, how similar Hogwarts was to Kinloch Hold.

Upon noticing the elfin magi, whose appearance had undoubtedly been included in the gossip, they would stop speaking, turning to look at her with the subtleness of a dragon in the Chantry. Some glared at her, muttering about destruction of property or about her inhuman features – something that had caused her to almost stab one of the more vocal students; a brown-haired sot in green-lined robes – while others seemed almost impressed by her actions. Then there were the paintings who glared at her when they thought she was not looking, only to shy away upon confrontation.

Good job, Neria. The first Theodosian ever to strike fear into the hearts of paintings.

Either way, despite her amusement, it meant that people were interested in her. No longer could she just find an abandoned classroom to talk to Morrigan without the curious students compromising her privacy. With this, she realised that the best place to talk was now outside. And so, after ten to twenty minutes of wandering the halls, they finally found themselves under the bright blue sky – the sun shining in the sky as few wispy clouds floated innocently.

Where, exactly, they were in relation to the Great Hall – the best point of reference she could think off – Neria did not know. They had gone through several halls and rooms, up and down some stairs, before finding themselves in a quaint courtyard with a water fountain and some nice little flower shrubbery. Beyond the courtyard, from what she could see, lead to the green fields that she assumed surrounded Hogwarts.

The castle itself was massive, situated on a wide hill. Though its designs seemed extremely impractical – Really? A turret tower built on a turret tower, built on a turret tower, which itself stuck out of a turret? – though she supposed that some form of magic was involved, not that it made her feel safer. Yet, despite the utter death-trap that called itself Hogwarts, the creamy brown stone towers and keep were still remarkable and breathtaking. But she, nor Morrigan, were here to be awed by the spectacle and instead focused on finding a privet place where they could discuss their course of action.

A massive forest sat to the west of the grounds, if the position of the sun was any indicator, looking quite different from the Brecilian Forest and especially the Korcari Wilds. Trees that seemed to get bigger and bigger the further in you went were a common sight, and from the green tinge to the mountains in the distance, it grew far and wide. Further down the tree line, she could also spot an oversized hut surrounded by a few plants and even a large dog who seemed content to sleep on top of a wooden crate.

Following said tree line down the slope of the hill eastwards, Neria felt a shiver go down her spine. A massive lake, only a little smaller than Lake Calenhad, sat before the castle, sparkling innocently as a gentle breeze rippled the water. While she had nothing against lakes as she found them quite beautiful – and this one was no different – the simple fact that Hogwarts, an institute of magic, was situated by a massive lake, reminded her a bit too much of 'home'. She just hoped that there was no village attached to the lakeshore somewhere.

Ignoring that to the best of her abilities, she and Morrigan continued walking until they reached the forest threshold where they could speak more privately. Once they arrived, they looked around, searching for anyone who might have been curious enough to follow the strange newcomers and see what they were up to.

When no one made themselves known, Neria began. "So… we're screwed."

"Really, I had no idea," Morrigan replied dryly.

"Do you know what went wrong?" she asked.

Morrigan sighed. "Truthfully, I do not. This was not the plan at all. We were to arrive at the Crossroads, not this… Hogwarts," She said distastefully. "Nothing I read ever mentioned this."

"It's alright, we can plan."

"No! You do not understand," Morrigan hissed, "Kieran-" She stopped abruptly as if she had said too much.

Neria blinked. "Who's Kieran?"

"It- He is…" Morrigan said, looking like she would much rather not say. Neria was about to backtrack, informing her friend that she could tell her when ready, but before she could, Morrigan exhaled defeatedly, "He is my son."

Neria did not respond at first, letting the weight of what was said fully register before speaking. "Alistair's?" she asked.

"Yes," Morrigan replied softly. "He… he is somewhere only the Crossroads could access. Twas to protect him from Mother. He is safe for the moment, but the trust I have in his carer only goes so far, especially with Mother."

"We need to get back," said Neria at once, all emotion leaving her face in place of complete seriousness.

"But how!?" cried Morrigan, "The Eluvian shattered, or is your memory failing?"

"I don't know?" the Elf retorted, "We could try to repair it, or something! I remember Ander's telling me about an elf who is attempting to rebuild an Eluvian."

"She is there, we are here."

"We could still try to rebuild it!" Neria pressed.

"We could or we could not," said Morrigan, looking more vulnerable then Neria had ever seen.

Walking up to her friend, the Warden wrapped her in a tight hug. While the Witch of the Wilds tensed at first, she soon relaxed, returning the hug tenfold. "We will rebuild it." They stood like that for what seemed like ages. "But before we do," Neria continued, removing herself from the embrace, "We need to survive. To do that, we must survive, and to do that, we need to learn about this new world. Hogwarts seems like a safe bet, it's a school so they'd probably have a library somewhere."

"So, to the library?" asked Morrigan.

"No," said Neria with a shake of her head, "At the moment, I want to figure out if our new bodies will cause any issue. Shall we spar?"

"Let's," Morrigan replied with a shadow of a smile.

While their staves seemed heavier in their new bodies, it was a simple enough adjustment. The real issue was the size difference, making the staves unwieldy. With this in mind, they began their duel, only using low powered lightning and non-lethal spells. It would hurt, perhaps leave a small burn, but it would not kill.

At fifteen paces between the two, they stood ready to attack or deflect and for a moment, it seemed as if nobody would make the first move. Then, Neria advanced, swinging her staff as she flung three consecutive bolts of blue lightning at her friend, who backpaddled, flourishing her own staff intricately to block and dodge the attacks, returning fire with a summoned stone fist which shattered upon the Warden's magical barrier.

With her hand, the Elf seemed to grasp at the air, acting out the motions of picking something up. This effect transferred straight to Morrigan, who found herself unexpectedly floating above the air before Neria slammed her hand down – not too quickly – sending the amber-eyed girl into the ground.

The Warden ceased her attacks for a moment, her guard up, to make sure Morrigan was not injured or anything. Her fears were abated, however, when a fist-sized ball of fire flew from the Witch's hand. The fireball was not aimed at Neria, but the ground before here. All she could do was quickly try and Fade Step out of range, but it was too late and she suddenly found herself flung off her feet by a hot shockwave caused by the small explosion. She landed onto the ground hard, but not uninjured.

But she did not stay down, but quickly pulled herself back up, just in time as well as the ground was replaced by sharp shards of ice which exploded into existence. Her staff still in hand, she sent several more bolts of under-powered lightning at the Witch who managed to block and dodge all impeccably.

Deciding to get in closer, Neria put one of her feet forwards, once again slipping into a Fade Step to close the gap. But before she could reach her opponent, the de-aged Witch of the Wilds disappeared, leaving in her place a bear… well, more like a bear cub.

Neria could not help herself and soon fell to the floor laughing as the bear tried its best to act intimidating, but all that came from its maw were prepubescent growls and a sense of petulant anger. It appeared that age did affect them and their magic as the Warden remember that Morrigan's bear form was much larger and far more intimidating.

When Morrigan returned to her true form, she wore the scowl of an angry child. Which, of course, was a pout. Which, of course, was adorable, leading to further laughter from the Elf. "Stop that," snapped the amber-eyed mage.

"I'm sorry, Morrigan," Neria said between laughs, "but you look so adorable as a baby bear!"

"Stop that!" she cried again.

"Just be glad Alistair isn't here," Neria said with a smirk, "He would never, ever, ever let you live this down." Morrigan's pout turned to a scowl. "I'd bet he'd make it a holiday, a special occasion for reminiscing on this momentous occasion."

Glaring, Morrigan spun on her heel, beginning the walk back to Hogwarts. "I am leaving."

The Warden frowned, then quickly chased after her friend. "Wait! Wait up! I'm sorry, I won't tell anyone I swear," she pleaded, stopping the Witch of the Wilds mid-step, "Please stay my friend?"

The glare softened, but still marred Morrigan's face. "Remind me why?"

"Because your mother would still be alive?"

"Oh, Mother is still alive, but I guess you are right," said Morrigan. "But this is enough practice, let us leave before we attract any attention."

"To the library." When they entered the halls of Hogwarts once again, they found that the atmosphere had quickly changed in a short time. While some still gossiped about her little bout of pyromania, others were speaking heatedly about something known as 'Kwittedge'. Whatever the nonsesnes word meant, all Neria knew was that it was serious. Perhaps it was a duel of some kind as they mentioned someone named Gryffindor and another by the name of Ravenclaw and how they were going up against each other. But then someone mentioned Seekers and instantly her blood ran cold.

She charged up to the boy who had mentioned it, a scruffy sandy-haired student in blue-lined robes, and demanded to know what he was talking about. Once he got through the fear, the boy stammered an answer as his friends fled. "I-it's a position in Kwittedge! T-the seekers… they catch the golden snitch!"

"Who's the snitch?" she asked, still confused as to what was going on.

"I-it's a-a golden ball! I'm sorry!"

Neria's glare lasted for a moment longer, then, after settling down, she asked him to explain Kwittedge to her and Morrigan. As the boy stammered an explanation for the strange and confusing sport, the Warden could not help but regret her outburst and hope the boy was not permanently scarred. She did apologise, informing him that the word 'Seeker' had a different meaning from where she was from.

One the boy finished his explanation and her, her apology, Morrigan decided to pipe in. "And here I thought we were to keep a low profile, dearest sister. But here you are, accosting the youth of this world."

"Let's just get to the library," she grumbled.

Smirking, Morrigan retorted, "Which we have no way of knowing where it even is."

Swearing, Neria turned back to the boy and twisted her features to the sweetest and innocent of faces. "Could you please escort us to the library? We're a bit lost and we would very much like to learn about this new place."

It was almost as if the entire altercation never happened with how quickly the boy's demeanour changed. His back straightened and his chin was held high, showing a hidden strength within. "Right this way!" he cried.

Raising an eyebrow at such a change in character, Neria followed the boy with Morrigan shadowing closely behind. As they walked through the halls, the boy could not help but run on and on about little bits of information, such as the fact that he was apparently a 'first year,' in Ravenclaw – which was apparently one of the four main groups in Hogwarts, with the colour lining the robes representing each group – and his own issues with navigating the castle.

Eventually, they arrived at a massive room known rightfully as the Hogwarts Library, a truly marvellous sight; thousands upon thousands of books sat upon hundreds upon hundreds of shelves. Students, mostly the older students, sat reading or studying thick tombs while others searched high and low for the right one.

Unfortunately, the first year Ravenclaw could take them no further as he needed to find his friends which were somewhere in Hogwarts. Shrugging, they let the boy leave and began to search the shelves.

However, they only managed ten feet within the library before they were stopped by an irritable looking shrivelled woman who reminded Neria of a vulture. She was dressed in a black robe with feathered plumage around the neck and a beaked pointed hat atop her short brown hair. The mystery lady was currently glaring down at Neria, for some strange reason.

Not expecting such hostility, Neria went to ask what was wrong, but before she could get even a single syllable out, the mage spoke. "I've heard a little rumour about you, young lady," she said tersely, "If I find a single singe on any page, you will be banned from entering my library permanently."

The urge to laugh showed its ugly face. For whatever reason, the Elf just found the entire situation hilarious. Nonetheless, she did not let herself break down into childish hysterics; she worked in the Ferelden courts after all. "Yes, ma'am," she said, betraying no hints of amusement.

The mage seemed placated by her words, saying, "If you require help finding anything, do not yell, but come find me," before stalking off.

And with the libraries abrupt departure, Morrigan and Neria were free to roam the shelves, looking for anything that may help them survive in the new world they find themselves in. As it turned out, it was quite easy to find books. What's more, they seemed to be written in the King's tongue.

…

Hours past and Neria felt a headache begin to affect her ability to read. It was quite the annoying thing, but the script, while written in the King's tongue, seemed to be too fanciful it proved a tad difficult to read, not that it was impossible. Nonetheless, when she heard a few students mention that it was dinner time, she found herself remarkably hungry.

Morrigan was asleep next to her, not for fault of laziness or anything. It just seemed that she was tired. When she woke her friend, the girl responded in groaned retorts that Neria found adorable. But dinner was dinner and she was hungry. "Morrigan, so help me if you do not wake up I will find some ink and draw inappropriate things on your face."

A single amber eye snapped open, glaring at the Elf. "You wouldn't dare."

"Would I?" Neria replied with an impish smirk. "I'm a Grey Warden, we take our food very seriously and you know what I'm like when I'm hungry."

"Fine. Let's go gorge ourselves." Morrigan pulled herself from the couch she sat on, stretching and stifling a yawn. With that, she and the Warden put back their books and marched to the Great Hall.

Dinner was a pleasant affair with an even larger banquet of food set out for the masses of students. The room was filled with a loud buzzing as students discussed everything from exams to the latest gossip – from a strange elfish newcomer burning a painting to the latest break up scandal – it was almost like she was back in the tower… without all the Templars.

However, before they could even begin to dig in, Dumbledore wished to say a few words. He stood behind a gilded podium with a grand owl motif, silencing the entire room with the airs of a grandfatherly old man. "A little unorthodox, but I have something to say before we dig into our meals. I am sure you have noticed the absence of our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and two new faces wandering the halls. I am also sure that some of you have heard some rumours as to the little escapade that three of our students went on last night."

He paused, letting what he had said wash over the hall. "I am here to shed some light on these new developments before we begin. First, I must inform you of Professor Quirrell's unfortunate passing. His death, as our esteemed Madam Pomfrey has found, was inevitable. He had been possessed by an evil spirit which resulted in irreversible damage to his body."

The school, being filled with hundreds of young children, reacted as was expected: Shocked gasps and the hum of speculative whispering. After a moment, Dumbledore raised his hands, silencing the entire school once again.

"This spirit compelled him to try and steal a peculiar little object known as the Philosopher's Stone," He continued, "However, he was stopped by the timely intervention from three of our students from Hogwarts and our newcomers – Neria and Morrigan Serana. Regrettably, the Philosopher's Stone was lost in the ensuing fight along with Professor Quirrell. For now, Defence Against the Dark Art's class will be cancelled until next year and the Serana sisters will be staying here until further notice. It would be best that you do not disturb them, as I am sure you have heard the rumours about their fiery personalities. But away from these dark matters. For now, eat! Tomorrow, the Quidditch cup will be decided and then, the House cup."

Dumbledore returned to his throne-like chair at the table on the dais, also known as the Staff table, letting the students run amok with the newest gossip. Neria ignored most of the white noise, focusing on the meal before them, but she could not help but twitch as eyes found themselves wandering to her and her friend. Though, the eyes were mainly on her, especially considering the amount of food piled on her plate. When prompted by one of the Gryffindor's who had said something along the lines of, "Save some for the rest of us," she responded with a glare. It was not her fault Grey Warden's needed lots of food.

Once she finished her meal, surprisingly, before most others, she stood up from her chair with a murmured 'excuse me' and began walking to the Staff table, drawing the eyes of several people within the Hall, including the teachers. Ignoring the stares easily enough, she walked up to Dumbledore who gave a questioning look.

"Do you still have the pieces of the Eluvian?" she asked, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Yes, I do," replied Dumbledore, "May I ask why?"

Neria's looked blankly at the aged wizard. "We will be repairing it. An issue has recently arisen that requires our attention."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "What is the issue?"

"Family," she replied cooly, "We planned on using the Eluvian's to meet up with a family member to act as protection, but we're here while he is there. Someone is after him, someone incredibly dangerous and his carer has no way of protecting him. We need to get back as soon as possible."

"I understand and shall deal with this," replied Dumbledore seriously.

"Thank you." Neria returned to the Gryffindor table and told Morrigan of what had transpired, which earned her a quiet thank you. Thankfully, dinner soon ended.

The students were whisked away while Neria and Morrigan were guided by a much too serious man who reminded the Warden of a bat in the way his robes – proper black robes – billowed in the non-existent wind. If it were not for the greasy black mane that ruined the image. All she knew of the man was that his name was Professor Snape, and that was all he would share.

Their journey ended five floors from the ground, outside a small chamber which were to be their personal quarters. "The headmaster has told me that if you require anything more, his door will always be open," he drawled before spinning on the spot and leaving the two.

Neria only raised an eyebrow at the strange greasy man before turning back to the chamber.

Inside, there was a lit fireplace against the right wall, crackling satisfyingly, with two couch chairs sitting before it. On the right, there was a wide window with a table and chairs underneath. And finally, in the centre were two doors which, upon opening, revealed two separate bedrooms with a large canopied bed in the centre and a small bookcase and chair off on the side. However, only one had a window.

With two beds to choose from, Neria let Morrigan choose first. Which, unsurprisingly, was the one closest to the window.

And with that, they went to bed.

In the morn, Neria found she had two issues to face. Firstly, was the fact her messy hair was only being held together by her braids. It was annoying, to say the least. It was halfway through their year-long attempt to end the Blight when the hornless Qunari Sten had offered to braid her hair – for purely practical battle reasons, of course – and since then, she had it braided in that style. Fortunately, before the Battle for Denerim, Leliana had learned to braid her hair from Sten so when he returned to the Qunari, she could continue to wear it in that style.

Now, though? She was without anyone to braid. With this sad thought, she untied her hair, letting it hang free. While most would have thought the Warden-Commander should have short hair, shoulder length at least, Neria prided herself on her long hair. It might have a higher upkeep, but it was one of the few things she could get away with having in the Circle – a place where every action is monitored and controlled with hostility, it was one of the few aspects she could have without repercussions.

The second thing was much more important as it was prevalent everywhere and was beginning to fray her nerves as people kept on going on and on and on about Quidditch – something she found she was mentally spelling wrong since reading about it in a book. Neria never liked rowdiness, preferring to stay away from a lot of noise, and Quidditch brought just that as the sport seemed to whip people up into a frenzy.

However, with the advent of Quidditch she was introduced to another aspect of the magical culture of this new world: Flying broomsticks. The day before, she had the basics of Quidditch explained, but the broomsticks were conspicuously left out. "So, let me get this straight," Neria said to the Gryffindors during breakfast in the Great Hall, "You have magical flying brooms and you play sports on them high in the air."

Fred – Or was it George? – Was the first to speak, "I'm not sure what's harder to believe."

The other twin, so really, it did not matter if she did not know the names, spoke next. "The fact that you don't know what a flying broom is."

"Or your lack of Quidditch knowledge," Surprisingly, it was not either of the Weasley twins who spoke, but a taller man who had the unfortunate, yet amusing, last name of Wood. Oliver Wood was currently looking between the two girls as if they were some sort of abomination that came from the depths of the deep roads, "What do people play from where you're from?" he pressed, sounding incredibly concerned for the girls.

"There's the Tourneys, but we have horses for that…" answer Neria, fighting back the urge to ask if they actually had horses.

"You know how to ride a horse?" one of the Gryffindor girls asked curiously.

Unfortunately, Hermione's overshadowed her question with one of her own. "Wait, wait, tourneys?" she asked, "Like jousting and knights?"

"Yes, though I've never partaken of the sport, or any such thing really."

While most at the table looked confused at the mention of tourneys, they decided to not press the subject. Why? Well, according to one of the so-called wizards, it was the fact that it was not Quidditch. Therefore, it was inferior. Though she was stopped by at least two of the girls who professed an interest in what it was like to ride a horse, to gallop through grasslands and all that other romanticised drivel.

Unfortunately, Morrigan was nearby and quickly stomped on whatever dreams they had of riding the beast of burden by explaining the issues and pain involved for first-timers. Upon seeing the heartbroken expressions on the girls, Neria felt obliged to lessen the hit the Witch of the Wilds had delivered and explained that it can be fun once you learn and have proper control.

While still feeling the sting from the reality Morrigan had given, they left in higher spirits then they would have had Neria left her friend to her devices.

Eventually, however, Quidditch began. The entirety of the school filed out of the castle and taken to a massive stadium nearby where they were split based on their house, each continuing to express their excitement over the upcoming game. Naturally, as Gryffindor was the only house – aside from that one Ravenclaw – that they had any connection to, they joined their stand, squished between a few fanatical fans of Quidditch who had decorated their faces with red war paint.

Neria would have found herself immensely amused by that if only everyone around her would silence. The entire stadium was in uproar, and the game had not even started yet! Those donned in the blue of Ravenclaw and the green of Slytherin were chanting "Ravenclaw, make them sore!" while the Hufflepuff's and Gryffindor's returned fire with chants of "Gryffindor, hear them roar!"

The atmosphere was so charged with tension that she felt fights might break out unless someone took control of the situation. Luckily, they did not need to.

The Quidditch teams, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor walked out onto the pitch with their broomsticks in hand, silencing the crowed marginally. They continued until they reached a white-haired lady in black and white robes. She could not see much from this distance, nor hear much, but soon the teams kicked off into the air on their brooms, which, remarkably, levitated in the air.

Despite being told before, Neria could not help but show her surprise at the magic. Had the Circle found a way to produce flying broomsticks, it would cause uproar beyond belief. Though, it was possible some hedge mages might have discovered the secret. The Warden still found herself preferring her crow form, though. So much easier to control.

And then, the black and white donned lady threw the different balls into the air and the games begin. The Commentator, a Gryffindor, was shouting and screaming as he described the events as they unfolded. And within the first few minutes of hearing him, his clear bias towards his own house showed. Neria frowned at this, assuming quite rightly that the Commentator should be neutral in that regard.

Nevertheless, the game continued unperturbed. Her eyes, far better than humans, could spot Harry hanging high in the sky, himself trying to spot any hint of fluttering gold as his team below battled it out against the Ravenclaws.

With only a rudimentary understanding of the game, Neria could only follow with the blaring Commentator's narration of the game. It was like being back at Denerim or Ostagar, hearing the screams and cries of several beings across the field, but worse. At least during the battles, she knew what to do, she could zone out and focus on her goal. But here, she could do nothing but try to find the snitch herself, which was proving difficult as she would be occasionally jostled by one of the rowdier Gryffindor's shouting praise for the game.

The players swooped and zoomed, the Beaters swinging their bats to try and take out their foes – which, the more she thought about it, unnerved the Elf – while the Chasers tried desperately to win points for their teams. It was starting to get too much for her, as the screams picked up as Ravenclaw scored another ten points, giving them a twenty-point head start against Gryffindor's fifty. Yet, despite this, it only seemed to strengthen the resolve of Gryffindor whose voices grew louder as their chant tore from their throats.

The Ravenclaw's gave as good as they got, performing a strange group that created a ripple effect within the audience. Neria supposed it worked the same way as their chants and cheers, but still found it odd.

The Commentator cried out again, Gryffindor scored another goal, before abruptly cutting off as he started screaming about the two Seekers who were racing each other.

A glint of gold and her eyes locked on.

The snitch.

Neria faintly smiled, hoping this game would end. The two Seekers had spotted the snitch, one would catch it and the shouting would thankfully end. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Just as the two became neck and neck, both inches away from getting the snitch, a bludger flashed past.

The Seekers backpaddled, trying to save their respected arms from the iron balls of death. But in return, both teams seemed to have lost sight of the snitch.

Once again, the two flew into the air and began to search for the golden orb like eagles.

Neria could not take it any longer. The shouting and screaming, it was becoming too much. Abruptly she sat up from the bleachers, holding her ringing ears with her staff between her elbow and marched down the stairs, her quick breathing overshadowed by the audience. Morrigan, having noticed her friends discomfort, followed, taking the Warden's staff in hand and assisting the girl down the stairs.

For that, Neria was thankful.

As they made their way back to the Hogwarts castle, the stadium lit up in mighty roars of victory, the faint screams of 'Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup' drifting to their ears.

Hopefully, Quidditch was not a compulsory event.

AN: I rewrote the last two chapters to improve them. When I first wrote this, it was an experiment, as such, it was not that good. I've improved it and made it better without them reacting twice to the Grand Staircase and meeting Ron and Hermione earlier and such. I also have an endgame plan.