part 3
It was over a week later when Celio Terran made his way into the Owlery with two carefully sealed letters. One to his parents and one to his Muggle friend back in Nottingham. He had just opened the door when he almost turned around. Harry Potter stood by the window with a snow white owl on his arm, the silvery light hitting him just right.
Celio scowled horribly at the fluttering in his stomach. Be gay later for a guy who doesn’t hate your guts.
“Safe flight, then.” Potter said to the bird as it launched off his arm. Celio just stood there for a moment before his foot crunched on the hay floor, making Potter jump in shock.
“Hello,” Celio said on autopilot.
“Hi.” Harry replied, also seemingly automatically.
Celio stared at him for just a moment before giving a low whistle for one of the school’s owls. He tied the letter to his parents in silence before Potter spoke.
“Good Quidditch conditions, yeah?”
“Wouldn’t know,” Terran replied quietly. “Don’t play. Don’t care.”
Potter frowned. The school owl launched off, and Celio called for another.
“What’re you sending?”
“Is it really your business?” Celio asked, turning with a flat stare.
Potter pulled a face at him. He pretended not to notice as the second flew off with word to Fynn. He turned to Potter with an exasperated sigh.
“What? Your gaze is scorching me.”
“What’s up with you?” He asked, eyes hard behind his glasses. Celio frowned.
“I really don’t think we know each other well enough for you to think something is ‘up with me’.” The blonde raised an eyebrow.
Potter opened his mouth to speak again. “You’re not mates with Malfoy?”
“No, I think he’s rather a git around his friends. Alone he’s alright, but I guess he doesn’t care for being consistently decent with people.” Celio said quietly. “Why?”
Potter shrugged and turned on his heel to look out the window. Celio raised his eyebrows but said nothing and turned to leave when the door opened again and in burst Filch, Mrs Norris at his heels. Celio lit up at the sight of the cat as Filch wheezed.
“Aha! I’ve had a tip-off that you are intending to place a massive order for Dungbombs!”
The black haired boy folded his arms and stared at the caretaker. “Who told you I was ordering Dungbombs?”
Celio crouched on the floor to happily pet Mrs Norris, who purred under his light touch. Filch glared at him but ultimately kept his attention on Potter.
“I have my sources,” said Filch in a self-satisfied hiss. “Now hand over whatever it is you’re sending.”
Potter said, “I can’t, it’s gone.”
“Gone?” repeated Filch, his face contorted with rage.
“Gone.”
Filch opened his mouth furiously, mouthed for a few seconds, then raked Potter’s robes with his eyes. “How do I know you haven’t got it in your pocket?”
“Because -”
“I saw him send it, sir.” Celio cut in smoothly, Mrs Norris slinking around his legs as he glanced up at the older man.
“You saw him-”
“Yup.”
There was a moment’s pause in which Filch glared at Terran and Terran looked at him blankly right back, then the caretaker turned and shuffled back toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the handle and looked back at Potter.
“If I get so much as a whiff of a Dungbomb . . .” He stumped off down the stairs. Mrs. Norris cast a last longing look at the owls and followed him.
Harry and Celio looked at each other.
“What did you do that for?” Potter demanded.
“Uh,” Celio was bewildered. “Not rat you out? Would you have rather I did?”
“No!” Harry was red in the face. “I just -”
“You weren’t ordering Dungbombs, were you?” Celio asked, brushing off his robes.
“Of course not, but -”
“Well, that's settled. If you can get over your extremely massive ego, you’ll realise I just saved your arse from Filch.” Celio rolled his eyes and made for the door. “You owe me one.”
“Why would I-”
“Shall I go get Filch and tell him ‘Oh sir, he was threatening me so I’d lie for him,’ so you can get that detention or will you let me leave?”
“Alright!” Harry snapped. “Sod off.”
And Celio vanished from sight, leaving Potter in the quiet Owlery as the remaining owls hooted softly at him.
—
Celio had to receive special permission from Snape to go out that Saturday to Diagon Alley to get himself a new wand. He pushed into the wand store with a bag of Chocolate Frogs in hand and the bits of his broken wand in the other.
Ollivander came running to the front, white hair floating around himself. “Oh dear. Not you again, sir Terran. Your magic is most unusual.”
“Tell me about it.” Terran groaned. Ollivander held his hand out for his broken wand and he dropped them into his withered hands. “Think it’s worth learning wandless magic yet?”
“You’ll put me out of business.” The old man joked, already retreating into the shelves of boxes. “I actually saw this wand come in a week ago and thought of you. If I’m able to find it, I think it may match you rather well.”
He came back out with a short box. “This isn’t it, but try this one while I keep looking.”
“Sure.” Terran frowned as the man passed him the box and hurried back to the shelves.
The wand was short. Roughly 5 inches, barely moved when Terran attempted to crack it over his knee and was purple in colour. Curiously he gave it a wave. Nothing even happened.
He quietly put it back in its box.
Ollivander came running back with a normal sized box and literally shoved it to Celio’s chest. The blonde stumbled back with an ‘oof’ before stabilising himself.
“That was a bit too much energy for an old man.” He huffed, opening the box.
“Oh, shush.”
In the box lay an about 11 inches wand, not a pattern to be found on its dark gold wood. It was thicker towards the bottom with a thin ring of gold where the handle and wand were supposed to separate. Terran raised his eyebrows at it.
“Give it a wave, then.” Ollivander demanded.
The boy picked it up out of its box. It lit up with golden markings all over before filling Terran with a tingly feeling in his fingertips.
“Reckon this is it.” He decided.