Harry Potter: Bloodling

The Great Hall felt unusually subdued when morning arrived, like the hush after an unexpected storm.

Students drifted in by small clusters rather than their usual clamouring hordes, hushed conversations filling the vast space with anxious murmurs.

Yesterday's strange spectacle—Oliver Graves returning as "Elijah"—still lingered in everyone's thoughts, no matter how fervently they tried to shake it off.

Speaking of the devil, Elijah entered the Hall with an easy stride, as though he was not at the centre of every whispered debate.

His Ravenclaw robes, freshly pressed, caught the early sunlight that streamed through the enchanted ceiling, making him seem almost too put-together compared to the bleary-eyed students hunched over plates of bacon and eggs.

A few glances were shot his way—some openly curious, some fearful—but Elijah merely smiled as he took his seat at the Ravenclaw table.

He offered a cordial nod to a pair of first-years who stared, wide-eyed, before they promptly returned to poking at their porridge.

He did not pile food onto his plate, though a small portion of scrambled eggs lay untouched before him.

Instead, he poured himself a goblet of pumpkin juice and took a delicate sip, seeming to savour it more as a gesture than out of actual thirst.

Across the hall, Harry and Ron shared a furtive glance.

Ron raised a brow as if to ask, What's he up to now?

Harry only shrugged in return, remembering the uncomfortable tingle he'd felt watching Elijah last night.

Not far away, Luna Lovegood observed Elijah with her usual dreamy curiosity.

She plopped herself beside him, earning startled looks from her fellow Ravenclaws.

No one dared to approach the Ravenclaw because of the rumours, not even his friends, but Luna had always danced to her own peculiar tune.

"Good morning," she said sweetly, setting down her copy of The Quibbler.

She peered at Elijah intently. "Are you feeling quite normal today?"

Elijah regarded her a moment, a flicker of amusement lighting his eyes. "Normal is such a slippery word," he replied. "But I'm well enough. And you, love?"

Luna's gaze drifted to the high windows, where the enchanted ceiling showed pale, drifting clouds against an early morning sky. "I'm perfectly fine," she said absently, "though there's a peculiar buzzing in the air. As though something's coming."

Elijah said nothing, merely tilting his head in politeacknowledgementt, but the corners of his lips twitched in something that might have been agreement—or quiet amusement.

"Can I ask you something?" Luna asked, her silvery eyes fixed on him with that peculiar intensity she reserved for the most fascinating of mysteries.

"Why do you have so many Mirewhisps and Palewefts on you?"

Elijah's lips curved into an enigmatic smile. "My dear Luna, you see the most remarkable things," he murmured, his voice carrying a note of genuine appreciation. "Though I suspect those creatures, the Palewefts in particular... have been on me for some time."

Luna noticed thathee didn't answer her and didn't seem bothered by his response.

If anything, her eyes brightened with understanding, as though he had confirmed something she had long suspected.

She absently twirled a strand of her pale hair, humming a tune that sounded like wind through hollow trees.

Their exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Flitwick, who swept along the Ravenclaw table with swift, purposeful strides.

He halted when he reached Elijah, his gaze steely but tempered by concern.

"Mr. Grav—" He hesitated, correcting herself. "Elijah. Is everything in order?"

Whispers rose around them like a gust of wind in the Hall. Every eye seemed to lock on the pair.

Even Luna blinked in slight surprise.

Elijah arched a brow, maintaining that calm veneer which now typified him. "Of course, Professor. You needn't worry," he said smoothly.

"You'll find out that I've settled my differences with Professor Umbridge and that there won't be any further incidents."

His eyes flickered briefly to Luna, who was still humming her ethereal tune.

Professor Flitwick's expression remained uncertain, his fingers drumming against his wand. "Very well, but please remember my door is always open should you need... assistance."

Flitwick gave Elijah one last scrutinising look before nodding and moving on, though there was a tightness around his mouth that betrayed his unease.

Elijah merely watched him go, amusement flickering briefly in his gaze before he turned back to his untouched breakfast.

But if he had hoped for peace, Hogwarts had other plans.

"Elijah," came a voice from his left. It was Michael Corner, one of his fellow Ravenclaws. Unlike Luna, his expression was less one of curiosity and more of quiet suspicion.

"Where the hell were you?" Michael asked, leaning slightly forward, his voice low but insistent. "You went missing, Oliver—" He hesitated, correcting himself with a frown. "I mean, Elijah? And now you're just back like nothing happened?"

Terry Boot, who had been listening in from across the table, leaned in as well. "Yeah, and what's with the name change?" His voice was more uncertain than demanding, but his eyes were sharp.

Elijah took another slow sip of his pumpkin juice before answering. "A name is just a name, my dear friends," he said lightly. "Would it truly make a difference if I had returned with any other?"

Michael scoffed. "Of course it makes a difference! You're Oliver Graves. That's who you've been for seven years! You don't just wake up one day and decide you're someone else—"

"Why not?" Elijah interrupted, tilting his head slightly. "Haven't we all wished to be someone else at one point or another?"

Michael and Terry exchanged a glance, their discomfort clear.

"You're dodging the question," Terry muttered. "Where were you? And don't say something vague like 'away.' People have been talking. You were seen near the Forbidden Forest before you disappeared."

Elijah hummed thoughtfully, as if considering their words. "The Forest is an interesting place, don't you think? So many secrets hidden beneath those ancient trees."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "You're still not answering."

"Perhaps some questions don't have answers," Elijah mused, stirring his untouched eggs with the tip of his fork.

Before Michael could press further, another voice joined the fray.

"Bloody hell, Graves, are you being impossible on purpose?"

Anthony Goldstein had arrived, looking every bit as exasperated as Michael, though there was an edge of concern beneath it. "Because it's working. And it's weird."

Elijah turned to him with that ever-present, unreadable smile. "Why, Anthony, I would never."

Anthony crossed his arms. "Yeah, sure. Look, you might be enjoying all this mystery, but people are worried about you. You vanish, you come back different, and now you're talking like some—some Seer in a bad Divination class. People want to know what's going on."

Elijah studied him for a moment, then sighed. "Fine. If it will put your minds at ease…"

Michael and Terry immediately leaned in, and even Anthony seemed to hold his breath.

Elijah smiled again, and for a fleeting second, something in his expression was too smooth, too perfect.

"I went somewhere I was needed," he said softly. "And now I am back."

A silence settled over the group.

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