Hidden behind the portrait of the pumpkin witch lay a forgotten professor's office. Its tall, arching windows were draped in deep blue curtains, and its stone walls were lined with tall bookshelves overflowing with tomes, scrolls, and spell diagrams. At the room's heart stood a rosewood desk buried beneath a pile of parchment, empty ink bottles, and used quills. On the other side of the room, next to a cold fireplace, was a sitting area with a loveseat and an assortment of armchairs. A silver tea set atop a large table, while several smaller tables with small lamps came alive with a soft glow as the students entered. Combined with the colorful rugs on the floor to the girls it reminded them of the Ravenclaw's common room.

For Morgaine, the air buzzed with ancient magic, feeling familiar and comforting as it swirled around her playfully like a long-lost companion. To her friends, the room felt as if the owner had just stepped away, but the sorceress knew better. This magic was old, and as it settled over her, it claimed her as its own.

Tracey who followed closely behind asked, "Is this Professor Flitwick's office?"

"No, but I don't think it's someone teaching here now," Morgaine replied.

The sorceress looked up as bright globes hanging from the ceiling illuminated the room before cautioning her friends. "Be sure not to touch anything on the bookshelf,"

Half the girls halted mere feet from the shelves, looking both disappointed and embarrassed. Still, hands tucked behind their backs, they curiously scanned the titles.

"Look. I've found the lavatory!" Tracey cheerfully called out from across the room before shutting the door.

"Me next!" Padma insisted.

Milly looked around the sitting room and asked, "Morgaine, is it okay if I sit down?"

"Oh sure, that's fine."

"Thank Merlin," she sighed, collapsing into the loveseat and untying her boots.

"What do you think you're doing?" Pansy frowned disapprovingly at her friend.

"What does it look like?"

"Those are some wicked boots," Morag said, skidding into a nearby chair. "I love the color."

"Common Welsh Green," Milly explained with a grin. "My nan mailed them to me the other day, and I wanted to break them in. This weekend seemed like a good time as any."

"Can't you just use magic to soften them?" Lisa asked.

Morgaine shook her head. "No, dragon hide is naturally resistant to magic. Using spells would ruin them. You have to break them in the old-fashioned way."

Lisa then pointed out. "We didn't have to do that with our gloves."

Now perched gracefully on a nearby chair, Daphne replied, "That's because they are enchanted with a dozen charms. We'll be lucky if we don't have to replace them every few years."

Her comment drew a few grimaces. Gloves for potions and herbology weren't cheap.

Pansy let out an admiring sigh as she sat next to her friends. "This is lovely furniture, Morgaine. My grandmother has similar pieces in our drawing room. What are you planning to do with them?"

Morgaine noted. "Well, they're hardly mine to decide about."

"Would you mind if we used this room?" Morag asked, looking around with growing excitement. "It's very comfortable."

"We should ask Professor Flitwick first."

Pansy gave an approving nod. "Morgaine, you should put most of this furniture in your vault. It's too exquisite to leave here."

Lisa glanced around. "I bet you could get one of the castle's house elves to find some nice, comfy replacements for us."

Morgaine sighed. Apparently, no one was listening to her anymore. "Why does everyone assume this is my office? And those aren't my books to lend out, either."

"Because," Mandy called from across the room, "Besides the charm books, there's an entire collection of healer books here."

"Must run in the family," Padma teased.

Lisa cheerfully added, "Since you're related to Rowena Ravenclaw, you had to have other relatives at Hogwarts. So, whoever office this is must be like a grandfather-uncle or something."

Su Li nodded sagely. "And the witch outside called you 'raven's child, which obviously makes you part owner of Hogwarts."

The absurdity of the statement sent the group into a fit of giggles.

Tracey excitedly ran up, holding a crumpled newspaper. "Hey, listen to this! The Minister of Magic is being forced to step down because he has three mistresses!"

"Fudge?" Pansy asked, horrified at the thought of him having multiple, much less one, mistress.

"Oh no, Owens," Tracey replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "And I mean, look at the front page; he is pretty hot."

"Who's Minister Owens?" Padma asked as she leaned over for a look.

Su Li snorted. "That's from 1854."

"Oh," Mandy giggled, pointing to another part of the paper. "Flourish and Blotts is having a Yule special, and there's even a coupon. Do you think it's still good?"

It was late, well past curfew when two figures strode through the quiet halls of Hogwarts, their destination a forgotten portrait: the Pumpkin Witch.

"So, after all these years," mused Professor Flitwick. "I believe everyone has forgotten about this office. Professor Abner Sheridan, Charms Master—long before my time."

"Eighteen fifty-four?" Morgaine ventured.

Flitwick nodded. "That sounds about right. He left for the winter holidays and never returned. Dragon Pox, I believe, though I can't be certain. After news of his passing reached the school, the headmaster and the Ministry tried to access his office—not to settle his daughter's inheritance, mind you. She was a Squib. No, they sought his private library, which was rumored to hold the personal writings of Rowena Ravenclaw. The Minister even enlisted curse-breakers. The goblin ward master, however, took one look and refused outright."

His grin widened as he continued. "Hogwarts's house elves were also unable to enter. Rumor has it they didn't try too hard. It was said that the castle itself safeguarded Sheridan's legacy, as he was a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw."

Morgaine tilted her head toward the painting. "What happened to his daughter?"

Flitwick shrugged. "I don't know. The story ends there. Most Heads of the House of Ravens make it a point to introduce themselves to Agnis."

"Agnis?" the sorceress frowned.

"The one you call the pumpkin witch. No one knows for certain whether that's truly her name. She has never spoken until now. May I?"

At Morgaine's nod, Flitwick approached the painting. "Good evening, Agnis. Might I come in?"

The witch in the portrait responded with nothing more than a kind smile and a shake of her head.

"Hello, Agnis," Morgaine greeted the painting. "May I enter?"

"Of course, raven's child."

The former Queen watched the diminutive professor excitedly bounce about the room as soon as the painting swung open, though he moved no farther than the bookshelves. Unlike her classmates, Flitwick kept his hands carefully to himself, marveling at a particular stack of handwritten journals.

Morgaine pointed to another painting of a ruined castle surrounded by pumpkins. "There are more of those concealed behind that frame."

"Hopefully, some of Rowena's work," Flitwick smiled before gesturing to the stack in front of him. "May I?"

"Of course."

Selecting one, he carefully flipped through its pages. "Would you mind if I copied these? It's a tradition for departing professors to donate their notes to the library."

Morgaine sighed. "I don't mind, Professor, but are you positive I have the authority to grant permission?"

Flitwick kindly pointed out. "If not you, then who? Sheridan claimed descent from Rowena Ravenclaw's brother. And you're the first person granted access to this room in over a century."

The former Queen finally relented. "Then that's fine."

The professor grinned as he inspected the titles. "Excellent, now these books are unsuited for first-year students, even NEWT level ones. Present company excluded, of course." He paused, looking at his student with concern. "Miss Rheged, are you finding your studies at Hogwarts challenging enough?"

The sorceress's laughter rang bright through the room. "Challenging? Hardly. My family began preparing me to be Queen before I could even walk. My mother taught me our ancestral magic; my father ensured I had the best tutors, all learned men of philosophy, mathematics, law, and languages. Merzhin had me master a wand by thirteen, and I passed the trials of a Sorceress by sixteen. Even so, there's much for me to learn here. Healing arts have evolved since Galen's time, potion varieties have multiplied tenfold, and your runes are fascinating."

She then looked a little lost. "Filius, where else would I go? I am a woman out of time; I must learn to live in this one."

"I understand, Your Majesty." Flitwick nodded sadly before motioning to another shelf. "These books would be a great addition to the charm section of the library."

Morgaine took a deep shuddering breath, then smiled, finding Breuddwydion perched on her shoulder.

Reaching to scratch her familiar's chin, she said," Of course, professor. Copy whatever you wish."

"Thank you. However," Flitwick pointed out to a couple of titles higher on the bookshelf concerned, "the Ministry restricts many of these books, which makes them illegal to own."

"Illegal? Really?" the sorceress groaned, rubbing her temples. "Ridiculous wand wavers."

The professor helpfully suggested, "Have one of your elves move them to your vault, and then we can pretend they don't exist."

When the discovery of Sheridan's journals was revealed, Morgaine and her companions once again became the talk of Hogwarts. Rumors swirled of a secret chamber brimming with forgotten treasure, the tale growing wilder and more fantastical with every retelling.

It was late at night when the headmaster's heart roared to life with emerald flames. Moments later, two figures appeared stepping out of the fire: the beautiful raven-haired witch Hestia Jones, cousin to the famous professional Quidditch player and now a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical, and the not-so-pretty, battle-worn Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the legendary Auror whose name was synonymous with hunting dark wizards.

Professor Minerva McGonagall glanced up with a gentle smile as her former student approached and greeted her warmly, "Hestia."

The younger witch gave a cheerful grin before taking a seat beside her. "I hear that the last few weeks have been exciting. The Prophet mentioned something about a treasure trove of books a group of students discovered inside an old office."

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, the Abner Sheridan collection, although you best ask Filius for the details. Thankfully, the professor's family was generous enough to donate part of it to the library."

Privately, she knew that the Hogwarts governors had been eager to confiscate all the books. Not that they could have entered the office, its formidable protections were still in place; Agnis had denied them access, like all others before her, even turning away the headmaster. However, the stern glare from the little eleven-year-old Morgaine Rheged, which caused the older wizards to back away embarrassedly when they confronted her, made McGonagall's day. Surprisingly, Lucius Malfoy acknowledged the girl's right to the collection and graciously thanked the young witch for the donation.

"That's not why we're here, lass," Moody gruff voice interrupted the conversation. "Where's Albus, Minerva?"

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing the headmaster accompanied by Professor Snape.

"I do apologize for our tardiness," Dumbledore said, settling into his chair with a twinkle in his eyes before giving a grandfatherly smile to those in the room.

Professor McGonagall frowned disapprovingly, aware that the two had been doing something with the protection around the stone. Why it was still here, she didn't know. Any objections she and the others had were ignored.

"Thank you for coming. So, I hope there is good news, Alastor?"

"None, Albus; the Muggle authorities have decided to cease investigating the Potter girl's disappearance."

"But why?" Professor McGonagall almost cried out.

"Because there is little to nothing to be found," Moody replied. "The teachers can't even agree that she was on the bus the morning of the day they believe she vanished even though they marked her as present."

Dumbledore frowned deeply. "What about Rose's friends? They must have been able to tell the teachers something."

"Friends, Albus? What makes you think she had any?" Mad-Eye snorted. "You can thank the Dursleys for that, by the way. They ensured she was isolated; if any classmates befriended her, their boy Dudley made sure they didn't."

"Albus," Professor McGonagall heatedly began.

"I find that hard to believe." Snape sniffed. "Whatever trouble she had at school, it must have been the brat's fault."

"Believe what you want," Moody glared at him. "But you met Petunia Dursley? Horrible woman. She didn't even bother reporting the girl missing; it took a teacher who ended up losing her job because of doing the right thing, poor woman. The headmaster of Potter's primary was a school chum with Vernon Dursley, so he had been covering the bullying. Because of this, he and Vernon will be lucky enough to avoid a long prison sentence."

"They must have found something?" the headmaster insisted.

"Don't know what to tell you, Albus. The leading theory is that she was abducted or the girl ran away, not that I blame her. They even searched the area with cadaver dogs but turned up nothing."

"Sweet, Merlin," Professor McGonagall whispered, then nodded thankfully as Hestia reached over and squeezed her hand. "What about the DMLE, Alastor?"

"Amiee's still cooperating but isn't happy about it. She had a couple of Aurors she trusted to follow up but found nothing. It doesn't help that no one knows where Potter vanished, and the ancient magic in those places makes things even more complicated."

Hestia, who had heard this all before, spoke up. "Trying to gather information from my contacts without giving a name or decent description of the girl makes it almost impossible."

Dumbledore nodded. "But have you heard anything?"

"Nothing about the Girl-who-lived. Whoever you convinced to keep it secret has kept it quiet for now. There have been no rumors of her disappearance among the non-human residents in the London enclave."

"The goblins?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Unchanged, sir. You know how much they don't involve themselves with us if they can help it. At least I haven't burnt any bridges asking about the Potter's vaults, but I won't risk being banned if I push. Now, Black Daisey and her sisters—"

"But they're Hags?" Professor McGonagall interrupted.

Hestia sighed. "Yes, Minerva, but they work hard to keep children out of Knockturn Alley. If one were missing, they would know about it. Merlin, no wonder most residents don't trust us so-called wand-wavers. But something's going on-ancient magic stirring, oaths renewed, all sorts of things they speak about, but I don't understand."

Dumbledore frowned. "Are you positive it has nothing to do with Rose's disappearance?"

"Not entirely; mostly, they live in their own world. Even if some might consider me a friend, I am not one of them, so they don't truly trust me," Hestia admitted with a shrug. "If I hear differently, I'll let you know, but without revealing who is missing."

"Regrettably, it must remain a secret."

"I understand, sir, but that limits my ability to help," the young witch replied regretfully.

Dumbledore gave her a warm smile. "Thank you, Hestia. If you hear anything, please let me know; it would be appreciated."

Alastor leaned forward, almost accusingly. "Your old friends and classmates know anything, Snape? Malfoy, perhaps?"

The potions professor held back a sneer. "No, the dark families believe the ridiculous story of Potter being tutored somewhere private. Mostly, they are preoccupied with pushing legislation and preparing for the upcoming seasonal gatherings."

A smirk curled Snape's lips. "Incidentally, some influential women are amused and intrigued by how much influence Morgaine Rheged has on their children."

"Rheged? The family who donated the books, right?" Hestia asked curiously. "They are somehow related to Rowena Ravenclaw? I don't think I have ever heard of the family."

"No one else has either," Snape replied drily.

Dumbledor interrupted somewhat impatiently. "Yes, yes, it's delightful to see an old family with connections to the founders has returned to Hogwarts. And from what I have been told, she is an exceptional student. However, Rose Potter's disappearance is still our priority; if any of you hear anything, please let me know."

As he stood up, Moody gave his old friend a stern glare. "Amiee still has questions for you, Albus, about how the girl ended up with the Dursleys, among other irregularities. If you want her to keep silent, you need to speak to her; no more pushing it off."

The last to leave was Professor McGonagall, who had given Hestia a warm smile and Dumbledore an angry one.

Now alone, the Headmaster of Hogwarts rubbed his temples. Turning to his phoenix familiar for support, the bird turned away as if saying, "You made your bed; now lie in it."

Notes:

Thanks to everyone who has been reading