"You will explain yourself," Umbridge said, her voice dripping with condescension. "You were reported missing. Now you reappear, address me in a most disrespectful manner, and you… you changed your name?"
Elijah said nothing at first, trailing his fingers against the cold stone walls.
When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and cultured. "Names are… fluid, Professor Umbridge. One can adopt and discard them as needed."
Umbridge spun around, face reddening. "They most certainly are not! You are Oliver Graves, and you will—"
"I am Elijah," he repeated calmly, a certain finality in his tone. "And… I believe you have questions."
Umbridge sniffed, thrown off balance by his unwavering confidence. "Indeed. Now come along to my office. We shall have a proper chat, and I will be sending an owl to your parents—"
But Elijah only smiled. "Oh, will you now?"
Umbridge faltered at the strange lilt in his voice, something amused yet distant as if he were indulging a child's tantrum rather than engaging in a serious conversation. The dim corridor seemed to grow colder, the flickering torchlight casting deeper shadows along Elijah's face.
She straightened her pink cardigan with a sharp tug, masking her unease behind a tight, disapproving glare. "Yes, I most certainly will. You have been absent for months, and your parents—"
"My parents," Elijah interrupted smoothly, his voice like silk gliding over a glass, "are quite beyond your reach."
Umbridge's pudgy fingers flexed around the clipboard she carried, nails scratching faintly against the surface. "That is notfor you to decide," she said, her voice clipped.
"The Ministry will be most interested in your… sudden reappearance. There will be questions. Forms. Procedures." She took a deliberate step closer, tilting her head up at him. "And you will comply."
Elijah watched her with something akin to amusement, his head tilting ever so slightly. "I wonder," he murmured, almost to himself, "what it is like to be so certain of one's own authority. Tell me, Professor… do you truly believe you are in control here?"
His words sent a shiver down her spine, though she quickly smothered it with outrage. "You will watch your tone, young man," she snapped. "You are a student of this school, and you will answer to me."
Elijah finally turned to face her fully, his light blue eyes catching the light in a way that made her breath hitch.
There was something wrong with them, something too sharp, too deep, like a bottomless well of hunger lurking beneath the surface.
"And if I refuse?" he asked softly and with a carefree expression.
Umbridge bristled, her squat frame puffing up with manufactured authority. "Then I will be forced to take disciplinary action. Do not think for a moment that your… rebellious attitude will be tolerated."
For a long moment, Elijah simply watched her. The silence stretched, thick with an unspoken weight, until finally, he sighed and tilted his head, the barest ghost of a smirk touching his lips.
"Of course," he murmured, his voice taking on a soothing, almost melodic cadence. "I wouldn't want to be a troublemaker, Professor. After all, we've already had our chat, haven't we?"
Umbridge frowned, her mouth parting in protest—but the words never left her lips. A flicker of confusion passed over her face, her expression going slack for just a second too long.
Elijah took a slow step forward, gaze locking onto hers, his eyes darkening, pulling. "You wrote your report, didn't you?" he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it echoed in her mind like a lullaby. "Everything is in order. You informed your Ministry. The proper procedures were followed."
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused. "Yes… yes, of course."
"You confirmed my identity. I'm Elijah," he said, pausing to ponder something. "No last name."
His voice was liquid smooth, wrapping around her thoughts like a velvet chain. "No cause for concern. Nothing out of the ordinary."
A vague, dreamy smile settled on Umbridge's face as she nodded. "Yes… everything is in order…" Elijah's smirk grew. He trailed a single fingertip along the edge of her clipboard, tapping it lightly.
"Good," he murmured. "Then we have nothing more to discuss."
Umbridge blinked rapidly, her body stiffening as if waking from a brief daydream. She glanced around, momentarily confused, before shaking herself. "Well," she huffed, straightening her cardigan, "I suppose that settles it. Everything is in order."
Elijah inclined his head, polite and composed. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Professor."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, his steps soundless against the stone floor.
By the time Umbridge realised she was standing alone in the corridor, clipboard clutched to her chest, the details of their conversation already felt distant—like a half-remembered dream.
And Elijah?
He had already vanished into the shadows.
.
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