Chapter Text
December 22, 1995, Hogwarts
He couldn't sleep. For some unknown reason, his brain refused to rest, even though his body had been begging for relaxation for days. The young man tossed and turned, envying the quiet snoring of his dormmates. Crabbe's snore was low-frequency, rhythmic — deep sleep phase, he'd sleep at least until four in the morning. Goyle whimpered in his sleep. A nightmare. He'd calm down on his own in a minute, not worth waking. Draco breathed evenly, but his jaw was clenched, meaning he wasn't asleep.
"Nott. Why aren't you sleeping?" Malfoy's voice came from his bed.A pause.
"Thinking," Theo replied.
"About what?"
Theo didn't answer immediately. Draco, already used to these pauses, clicked his tongue.
"About a potion," Theo said finally. "Can't stabilize the base."
"It's three in the morning."
"I know."
Draco turned over onto his other side and pulled up the blanket."You're insane."
"That's not news."
This time Malfoy fell asleep quickly, but in Theo's mind, the formula for the damned potion he'd been working on for the past year kept surfacing. He was missing one ingredient, or rather a 'charge' for one component, and he had to get home, to the 'Black Stones', today, otherwise he'd have to wait another twenty-eight days for the next Northern Lights.
"Grandfather will kill me if I do this again..." the young man thought, looking out the window by his bed. "Well, so be it, let him kill me, but at least I'll finally finish the bloody potion... Probably..."
He Summoned his leather rucksack and, pulling a tiny vial from its depths, tipped it into his mouth. The potion hit his stomach — not painfully, but nauseatingly. Cold crept from his spine to his shoulder blades, and for a second Theo pressed his forehead to the dormitory wall, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Then he pushed off, threw on his robe, and headed to the Hospital Wing.
Norway, 'Black Stones'
The man was sitting before the fireplace, immersed in an ancient text on parchment, when a silver-blue cat appeared before his eyes and spoke clearly in Minerva McGonagall's voice: "Mr. Morrigan, please come to Hogwarts as soon as possible. The fireplace in my office is open." "Devil's spawn!" he cursed and, taking a handful of Floo Powder, threw it into the fire, disappearing in the greenish flames. "Mr. Morrigan." "Professor McGonagall, what happened?" "Theo's had another attack. Poppy took a blood sample, ran diagnostics, but the situation isn't clear. It's exactly the same as last time." "Where is he?" "In the Hospital Wing. Come, I'll escort you." "Thank you, Professor. I'll have to take my grandson home; our family Healer knows what to do. I apologize for the disturbance — it runs in the family. Almost all the men in our line go through coming-of-age just like this." "I understand. Mr. Morrigan, I think Theo could use some rest, especially since Christmas is in three days... The main thing now is for him to recover. He's looked exhausted lately. It's understandable with the O.W.L. preparations, but nonetheless, he needs proper rest." "Thank you, Professor. I truly appreciate your care for my grandson." Caleb gave a slight bow. "Not at all, Theo is a fine young man." McGonagall replied with a smile. Two people practically tumbled out of the fireplace. The younger one was shaking as if in a seizure, the elder's face expressing a sincere desire to kill. "Ronnie!" The elf appeared with a soft pop and, glancing at the young man, rolled his eyes.The younger one opened his mouth to say something, but the elf beat him to it."Antidote." Returning a moment later with a tiny bottle, the house-elf shoved it into the trembling hand of the younger master, clicking his tongue irritably. "You're free..." the elder said wearily, sinking heavily into an armchair.Summoning a bottle of Ogden's and a glass, the man poured two fingers and downed it in one gulp. Waiting a couple of minutes for the alcohol to take effect, Caleb threw his grandson a murderous glare. "Don't start, Grandfather... I needed to leave school..." Theo began, wiping his sweaty forehead. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?!" the man shouted. "Do you realize that one day you could kill yourself?!" "Told you, don't start... I've calculated everything. I know exactly the duration, and if I take the antidote in time, nothing threatens me. The potion breaks down into organic elements after its effect ends, like all my potions. No one will find any traces, if that's what you're worried about... So relax, I have everything under control... I need to go now, need to charge something — the Northern Lights are soon." "I... want you to carve it into your aristocratic nose that no matter how grown up you think you are, and no matter how talented, I am still your guardian," the man gritted out through his teeth. "Yes, forgive me... " the younger one snorted. "I have to run. Seriously." "Sit down." Caleb nodded towards the adjacent armchair. "This is the third time in four months... What are you trying to achieve? I tell you for the millionth time that the slightest attention drawn to your person could lead to consequences I don't even want to contemplate. Isn't your own father example enough?" Caleb Morrigan glared furiously at his grandson. "I'm not an idiot... just... I need to finish a potion. I've been working on it for a whole year... I can't stop now. Grandfather, please... You have nothing to worry about. No one knows anything about me," Theo gritted out. "I take the debility potion so everyone sees how sickly I am, just like you wanted..." the young man gave a bitter smile. "Fine... As much as I try, I can't protect you from life... Just... just I ask you, be reasonable, T.J. That's all I ask." "I'll try." Theo smiled. "I'm leaving for Germany in a couple of hours. Urgent business." "For long?" "As it goes... Be a good boy." Caleb chuckled and ruffled his grandson's hair.
----------------------
Forty minutes after his grandfather left, Nott set a crystal vessel with spring water on a high point near the house and, sitting down in the snow, raised his eyes to the starry sky, where in one minute and forty-two seconds the long-awaited lights were due to appear. Theo caught himself thinking that no matter how many times he watched the Northern Lights, he could never get enough of the sight of that fantastic, thrilling magic.Here, at the 'Black Stones', even the air was different. Not just because it was Norway. Because the very stone remembered who to let in. Caleb used to say: six centuries the Morrigans taught the granite to breathe so that strangers would pass by, not seeing the door. Not one siege. Not one betrayal from within. Simply — you're not here, move along. Theo grew up with this knowledge, like others grow up learning to tie their shoelaces. He never thought of it as protection. Only as the fact that home was a place where you couldn't be found. Until you yourself wanted to be found. And also because Caleb Morrigan had traded an ancient artifact from the goblins twenty years ago — a portal node connected to Hogsmeade. Points on a map connected by magic that left no trace. It cost him half the family gold and a promise the goblins never forget. But now his grandson could be in London for breakfast and in Norway by lunch, and no one — not the Ministry, not anyone else — could track that path.
The Morrigans jealously guarded the knowledge they had accumulated over nearly six centuries, passing it only to direct descendants. Ever since Theodore Nott Senior was sent to Azkaban in 1982, Theo had been raised by his mother's father, and Caleb had hammered into his head from early childhood that he could only ever have one thing no one could take from him: his knowledge. Fortunately, Theo learned eagerly. Like many in the Morrigan line, he possessed a special talent for Potions and could brew a Draught of Living Death with his eyes closed by age eight. Caleb doted on the boy, but in matters of upbringing, he was unyielding and punished severely. If Theo was late for dinner, he didn't deprive him of food, as was customary in many families — he deprived him of sleep, making him gather potion ingredients at night, by the light of the moon alone. It was on one such night that little Nott made his first discovery, which laid the foundation for his obsession with Potions and passion for Healing.Nott watched, enchanted, as the green rays played in the crystal, and prayed to all the gods that what he had worked on for so long would succeed. He took a pipette from his inner pocket, drew out some of the charged liquid from the vessel, then sealed it again and left it to feed on the wonderful phenomenon until it ended.
----------------------
The young man spent Christmas at Malfoy Manor, where he had been invited for as long as he could remember. Not that Theo was thrilled by these events, but Narcissa Malfoy was perhaps the only one among the pure-blood circle he genuinely liked — genuinely, although many would accuse her of haughtiness and snobbery. She was beautiful, intelligent, and there was a strange power emanating from her that the boy felt, or rather, perceived tangibly. The woman only seemed fragile and delicate outwardly, but sometimes, he saw her gaze — which she, not thinking she was being watched, would throw at people like Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, and several other men whose names Nott didn't remember. If looks could kill, they'd be nothing but a pile of ash.Being a Hogwarts student, a Slytherin, the son of a Death Eater, and Malfoy's friend, Theo had of course heard of the Lestranges. All three of them. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan. That was the order, and no one mentioned them otherwise. Someone from Slytherin mentioned they were the Dark Lord's most loyal followers, especially Bellatrix. They spoke of her as a hardened sadist, whose favorite curse was the Cruciatus. It was she who left Longbottom, Nott's Gryffindor classmate, orphaned while his parents were still alive. For that, she was sentenced to life in Azkaban. Many shuddered at such tales, but Theo's magic resonated strangely with her name. He didn't know how to explain such a feeling towards a person he had never even seen.He also knew about the middle sister, Andromeda Tonks, who ran away with a Muggle-born and was burned off the family tapestry. "Good for her! Tapestries be damned! At least she has a daughter who's a Metamorphmagus, something today's pure-bloods will never see," Theo would chuckle to himself, watching Draco seethe with rage.The week after Christmas, Theo spent in the laboratory, preparing modifiers, filling tables with new observations, and compiling ingredient lists to replenish stocks.Before New Year's, his grandfather's owl arrived, bringing a Portkey to London, meaning the man wouldn't return until Theo left for school at the end of January. Nott often wondered about Caleb's life. His grandfather was seventy-six years old, but you'd hardly give him more than fifty-five. The Slytherin resembled him so much physically that many took them for father and son, only Caleb's hair was fair with grey streaks, and his eyes were light grey, unlike Theo's dark grey. Morrigan was rarely home; he was away often and for long periods, and when Nott asked about his affairs, he'd joke it off, saying that a widower had a private life too.