Chapter Text
Every time Aesop thinks: 'That's it, I've seen everything this castle has to offer,' Hogwarts goes and surprises him again — and, thanks to his new fifth-year student being a magnet for trouble (and apparently host to a powerful, forgotten form of magic), this has been happening far too much recently.
First an enormous chamber down in the dungeons right underneath everyone's noses, lined with paintings of long-gone professors who have no regard for the safety of their pupil, and now this?
Aesop had finally convinced Vincent to divulge wherever it is within the school he keeps hiding away in, but he hadn't anticipated the quiet Slytherin to lead him up the steps of the Astronomy Tower. When the boy had started pacing in a random corridor, a corner of the Potions Master's mind had genuinely worried his student had cracked under the unfathomable pressure that had apparently been on his shoulders all term.
And then a door had materialized from the blasted wall.
He's going to have to have a long conversation with Matilda about sharing secrets with students and not the staff.
As Aesop strides into — what had Vincent called it? — the Room of Requirement, he stops short in the entryway and takes it all in. Green-tinged sunlight is streaming through a skylight far above them, leaves gently drifting down. The room is positively sprawling, and nearly every surface has some sort of plant or botanical motif — and there's so much green. The comfortable furniture scattered around seems as though it was plucked right out of the Slytherin common room, and Aesop has to admit the idea of his student having this much pride in their house is rather satisfying.
He does a full spin in place, counting the four strange glass contraptions that appear almost like oddly-shaped greenhouses — he had better not be hearing animals inside, but with his luck that birdsong he can hear isn't just ambience. Dark eyes rake over the upper levels, and the enchanted books flapping around the shelves lining the wall. There's a side hallway, as well, but before investigating that further, Aesop turns to look down at his charge.
Vincent looks distinctly anxious, those worn gloves of his twisting around and around in front of him in a now-familiar nervous tic, and Aesop realizes the fifteen-year-old is worried about his reaction. This place is obviously very private — the former Auror doubts his reserved young student has told any of his friends about it, and it's possible not even Eleazar has been made aware of the secret. Taking another appraising glance around, it's clear that this place is a reflection of the wallflower standing before him: brilliantly creative, but also quite vulnerable.
Aesop takes a deep breath through his nose, his expression carefully controlled as always.
"So. This is where you've been escaping to, hm?"
Vincent nods wordlessly up at him, wide-eyed and silent like he's anticipating the serenity of this space being broken like glass shattering. There's a peculiar spark of something unfamiliar in Aesop's chest, a desire to find whoever made this prodigy of a child think he had to hide himself away and smack them upside the head, but he focuses on the here and now.
"I can see why your grades have remained excellent despite all of your… extracurriculars this term. This room certainly seems like an ideal place to study." Aesop continues, gesturing at the desk in one corner, a noticeable pile of sweets by the inkwell; has Vincent been doing all of his homework in here?
"…Uh, thank you, sir?" The raven-haired teenager warily replies, watching as Aesop moves past him to that opening he'd noticed earlier. There's stairs leading downwards, and an occasional sound like plant leaves ruffling. He wasn't an Auror for nothing — the professor is certain that there's something else being concealed in this place.
"What's down here?" He casually asks, noting out of the corner of his eye how Vincent stiffens.
"…Don't be mad?"
Of course there's a room filled with potion ingredients on one side, and dangerously active plants on the other. What should Aesop have expected?
Not for the introverted teenager he's been mentoring to walk right up to a Venomous Tentacula and chastise it for rearing to spit at him, that's for sure. Mirabel would have a field day in here with the planter full of Mandrakes alone.
"You know, they've, um, only ever met me before, and occasionally Deek, of course, so they're a bit nippy around strangers," Vincent mumbles sheepishly as Aesop narrowly avoids his sleeve being clipped by a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. "I've... sort of been — er, raising them to — to do that. Sorry, Professor."
Raising them to — Aesop inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose as he registers the meaning behind that. Ah, yes, a fifth-year student fresh into his magical education, utilizing lethal plants for combat with Dark wizards out in the Highlands. Not a problem at all, sure, why the bloody hell not? Restraining the urge to launch into a full-on lecture until this whole business is over with, Aesop gets out another probing query despite how tightly tensed his jaw is.
"And you grew all of this yourself? Brewed all of this yourself?" That last pointed question is punctuated by Aesop striding over to the back wall, several potion-brewing workstations pushed up against it with nine well-used cauldrons.
Aesop isn't sure whether to be impressed by the exemplary quality of a phial of Thunderbrew he plucks from a shelf or disturbed at the thought of his student managing all of these brewing stands at once with such volatile potions. There's so much stockpiled, which would be admirable in ordinary circumstances but only serves as a reminder of the mortal peril facing this teenager — who's supposed to be safe here at Hogwarts — on a daily basis.
But perhaps… he's being a bit too harsh. Faced with uncommonly life-threatening situations, when given a space with which to use as he sees fit, Vincent's avoided using it for leisure — and instead focused on bettering his own abilities and keeping himself as safe as he generally can while off fighting for his survival. It really seems as though he's mastered the capabilities of this room. Aesop sighs.
"…It's impressive." He remarks in a low voice as he turns the softly glowing purple bottle over in his hands, not pleased with the situation but still giving credit where it's due.
Vincent looks up at him incredulously, like he'd be less surprised with Aesop growing a second head than praising his efforts. "It — it is?"
"It is," the taller man confirms, raising an eyebrow, "but we do need to have a long overdue conversation about all of this. About dangerous secrets."
Vincent winces, gaze darting back up the stairs as he tugs at his Slytherin green tie. "...Perhaps — in, uh, in that case — we should move to a — well, a more… calming environment, then?"
He has that look on his face again, the one that says this isn't all of it, and Aesop just knows he's going to have a headache later.
"Fine," the Potions Master grumbles. "Lead the way."