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Chapter Text

Enid was prepping for tomorrow’s potion assignment, tasked with brewing a strength elixir for her lab partner, Ajax. It was a straightforward formula so simple, in fact, that only a true disaster in a certain grey beanie could botch it. Still, it was likely to appear in the midterms, and Enid was determined to ace it.  

The ingredients were standard for an intermediate potion: one winter root, five fire blossoms (found from the outskirts of the forest), a Spanish fly from a nearby swamp, and a handful of nightshade petals. Gathering them was a mild ordeal, but thankfully, she had help. Her roommate, aka her “bestie” Wednesday, with her witchy instincts and vintage grim adventures courtesy of Grandmama, navigated potion prep like a sixth sense. Enid knew she was lucky, it was Wednesday we are talking about. She didn’t hand out favors lightly. If she were anyone else, she suspected Wednesday would’ve handed her a compass and told her to find it herself. Even worse, she would just leave you standard in the dark parts of the forest like a psycho she is.

There were more ingredients but you get the jist (It’s hard to make a fake potion to be fair).

Enid stepped into the potions lab with a quiet confidence she’d earned through trial, error, and the influence of the great Wednesday Addams. Thanks to a few extra lessons and Wednesday’s disturbingly precise deboning and vein removal. Enid had conquered her squeamishness toward dissection. Well, almost. Blood still made her woozy, but hey! At least she no longer hit the floor at the sight of a frog’s innards. Progress, right? Well Wednesday is proud of her and that's all she cares about and not your opinion.

She laid out each ingredient with surgical care, reciting the steps aloud like a spellcaster warding off academic doom, making sure not to miss anything even if it was simple, each step is crucial and needed to be done correctly. Every measurement needed to be exact, every action intentional. She wasn’t just brewing a potion she was brewing vindication. Her teacher’s words still rang in her ears,“If you can't even stand to dissect a frog, you might as well take fortune reading or botanical classes.” That condescension had lit a fire under her, and today, she wasn’t just going to pass. She was going to be a full-blown academic weapon in glitter heels.

After successfully brewing the concoction, Enid poured it into a perfectly-sized vial, finishing it off with a dainty pink bow and a neat tag because presentation matters and she likes to glamourize her potions it's practical and cute, nice for differentiation and adds character to it, even when it’s a strength serum.

With that, she called it a day.

Now comes the gamble. Ajax still had to brew his half of the assignment, and if he messed it up? Well, Enid would be the unlucky test subject sipping that disaster. She swore the professor had a sadistic personality since he designed this system as a twisted prank. The whole “drink your partner’s potion” rule felt less like education and more like poetic punishment, one that Wednesday would probably enjoy, in fact she probably gave the idea to the teacher, who knows.

Sure, in theory it taught accountability: mess up, fix it. And to fix it you need a willing participant to practice on. But in Enid's opinion it was a load of bullshit, she thought of it as academic abuse I meant to hand your academic fate to whoever you shared a table with an enemy, bully too much power to one individual if you ask me, or in Enid's case, a stoner airhead with questionable potion instincts. At least the professor had common sense and let students pick their partners; one mercy among a sea of chaos. 

“Guess I’ll find out how Ajax does tomorrow,” Enid muttered, slipping into her dorm with fingers crossed and stomach mildly queasy not from the ingredients, but from the looming taste of someone else’s homework.This is the part she dreaded the most. This wouldn't be her first potion mishap, she shaked her head remembering the last incident when she turned green for two whole days.

Another day, another potion, she will just have to wait and see.

The next day

Enid’s first class was Potions, and she was absolutely not about to be late. That teacher had a habit of spotlighting her mistakes like she wore a neon target on her back. Maybe it was intimidation after all, Enid had taken down the Hyde. Well that’s what she liked to tell herself, anyway.

“Good morning, Bestieee! Rise and shine for a brand new day!” Enid chirped, beaming at Wednesday, who barely acknowledged her from under her blanket of doom. Still, the morning routine felt sacred. Doing things side by side made Enid feel closer and more connected to Wednesday. Especially since she can’t get much hugs out of her, they were rare and emotionally rationed. But Enid didn't care . It was a special bargain deal that you can't refuse.

But hey! Progress is progress. These days, Enid could score a hug without being threatened first. Sure, it was more of a “once a month if the stars align” type of deal, but Enid treasured it. She knew love from Wednesday came wrapped in barbed wire and deadpan sarcasm. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. She would never try to change the girl, she has already allowed Enid to at least be inside of the walls she built and that's better than nothing.

“Terrible morning, Enid. I trust your sleep was as grim and joyless as mine,” Wednesday greeted, her voice dry as ever but her gaze, softened just slightly, betrayed a hint of something rare, affection not freely given to just anyone which was reserved to maybe just Enid.

Their morning was like a ritual, one where it was strictly separate, had now become quietly synchronized without hesitation and resistance. 

After brushing their teeth and having their morning showers, they split the duties with unspoken efficiency. Enid would fetch breakfast for them both, always adding something sweet and meaty for herself, something plain and more greens for Wednesday while Wednesday tidied their room and meticulously made their beds.  

It was a subtle gesture, almost invisible to outsiders, but Enid cherished it. Wednesday wasn’t known for touching anything pastel or partaking in acts of domestic kindness. Yet here she was, folding sheets and adjusting pillows like it wasn’t a crime against her morbid aesthetic. And for Enid, that meant everything. It was Wednesday’s version of a hug, the kind without threats, the kind that whispered, you matter to me, even if her mouth would never form the words. Though Enid would never voice those thoughts, afraid it might disappear without a trace, she reveled in the joy of coming to their room with food and seeing Wednesday wait for her.

When Enid returned with breakfast, they settled at the small round table that now stood proudly in the middle of their room, a cozy symbol of their shared mornings. This was a new addition ever since the school introduced a rule allowing students to eat in their dorms (so long as no one summoned mold or chaos that needed to be fixed it was all right), the table had become their sacred space. Meals were peaceful, always paired with soft banter and mismatched bites. Enid’s meaty and generous amount catered for her wolf appetite beside Wednesday’s grim, minimalist palate. And occasionally the act of sharing food, well mostly Enid going for the Wednesday's greens, Wednesday not so much but nevertheless she still takes a sample of Enid's plate.

They had an unspoken system. After eating, Wednesday would handle the dishes, returning them washed and stacked with eerie efficiency down at the kitchen, while Enid wiped down the table and cleaned the glasses until they sparkled. The next day, they switched, no reminders needed. It was a routine based on trust, built through subtle acts and mutual care. The kind of type that you do unconsciously. One would even say it's marriage couple behavior or their case bestie behavior.

Once breakfast was done, Wednesday walked Enid to Potions class before continuing on to her own botanical lecture… It was technically on the way, Wednesday justified it to herself but to Enid, it felt like something more. Like being watched over. Like being cared for. 

Enid arrived early,actually early and immediately regretted it. Her usual seat greeted her with too much silence which she hated with not nearly enough distraction. She plopped down, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room that hadn’t yet radiated with warmth and noise, not that it was warm to begin with, especially with her Professor in it.

‘Ugh, brilliant’, she thought, tapping her foot. ‘I could’ve kept talking to Wednesday. Not that she would've begged me to stay… but still.’ She glanced at the clock. It ticked with infuriating smugness and slower than usual, she let out a frustrated sigh. ‘This is what I get for being punctual. I should sue for emotional damages.’

The minutes stretched like bad taffy from the carnival, each one daring her to lose her patience. Then, finally, her classmates started to trickle in slowly, grudgingly, as if summoned by sheer boredom. A few students filtered in, followed by the thud of Ajax’s shoes. Blame her keen wolf senses for knowing that.

‘Finally,’ she perked up, her eyes locking onto him. ‘Okay, if I catch him before the professor starts breathing brimstone, I can ask about his potion. Maybe even save him from whatever catastrophe he's about to unleash.’ she thought with a cheerful look and hands clasped.

Ajax slid into the room with his usual grin, eyes sparkling like he didn't just put on cologne and call it a day. “Yo! Wassup, En? How’s it going?”

Enid arched a brow. The look he gave her was a little too gleeful, a little too confident, and her instincts weren’t convincing. Either he nailed the potion... or he's running on three hours of sleep and stoner delusions. She leaned forward, voice low and laced with dread.

“Oh, this whole thing depends on that potion working, Ajax. Because if I go green again again I’m coming for your eyebrows. And trust me, no amount of potion will grow them back after I’m done. I'll even add Wednesday. I'm sure she will be glad to help. That shade clashes with literally everything I own.”

Her tone was joking mostly but the worry edged through her eyes. Green had been a look, sure, but not one she was keen to revisit. Ajax, unfazed, waved a hand with exaggerated coolness and dropped his bag beside her.

“Chilll Enid, it's calm, seriously last time was a cosmic hiccup. I’ve triple-checked every step, every stir, every sparkle. You’re gonna stay gloriously non-green, I swear on my hair gel. No need to summon Wednesday for backup. Unless you just want to kill me off. In that case… I accept my fate.”

He began unpacking, methodical for once, carefully placing a pale-glowing vial onto its stand like it was crown jewel material. His hands fluttered theatrically around it.

“Ta-da,” he said proudly. “Behold. The anti-green guarantee.”

Enid stared at the potion, then at him. Well, he’s either confident… or completely doomed. Time will tell.

Enid gave a relieved sigh, shoulders easing at the sight of Ajax’s potion; its color matched hers, and with luck, so would its effect. “Thank the stars. I-”  

The door groaned open mid-sentence, cutting her off with a dramatic entrance of dark mist. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees as the shadows parted to reveal the one and only Professor Blackwell. He swept into the room like a curse made, his voice booming like thunder wrapped in disdain.

“Let’s keep the theatrics in the cauldron, shall we? Do not subject me to mediocre performance. I expect better. I’m hoping for actual alchemy today, not a tragic medley of smoke, sludge, and shattered dreams. Impress me… if you can. And please do hesitate to waste my time, if you know it's subpar just don't even bother to show me.”

Yep, that was Blackwell. The man radiated cold sarcasm like a funeral fog, his disdain precise and full of ice. Enid had always thought he reminded her of Wednesday, sharp-tongued, emotionally allergic, but somehow... not quite. Where Wednesday wielded apathy with style, Blackwell exuded it like a second job. Terrific teacher truly by you can tell he does not have kids and if he does...good luck to them I guess.

She slouched deeper into her seat. Her concern wasn’t for herself; she had triple-checked every step. No, her gaze flicked sideways to Ajax, who sat suspiciously still beside her. His potion looked fine... for now.

“Please let him not have improvised,” she thought, edging just a little farther from his desk. I am absolutely not in the mood to catch green skin as collateral damage.

The classroom was thick with anticipation, each table echoing the sound of gulps as students swallowed their potions under Professor Blackwell’s hawk-like gaze. He drifted from table to table like a spectator evaluating souls, insisting each student drain their vial to the last drop.

Enid clutched hers with clammy fingers, the glass trembling slightly as she stared it down ready to drink it. Everyone else had gone. She was the final act. With one steadying breath and a silent prayer to every potion deity that Ajax hadn’t winged this she tipped it back and chugged it down. 'bottoms up' she thought as it trickled down her throat.

The vial hit the table with a satisfying clunk.

Warmth bloomed in her chest. She blinked once, then again. No green skin. No vision haze. No grotesque spots or unplanned transformation. Just... herself. Gloriously unchanged.She practically lit up from the inside out.

‘A miracle,’ she thought, eyes darting to Ajax.  

A grin tugged at her lips as pride surged through her, mingled with relief.

For once her trust in the boy came into use, she rejoiced in silence as she was just normal, for once normal!!! She was elated and practically beaming. She almost had no faith in the boy, but hey! I guess this potion is that simple that even Ajax can manage it.

Professor Blackwell’s voice sliced through the room like a spell gone wrong.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.AJAX! Have you absorbed anything in this class? One simple strengthening potion. That’s all I asked for. But no, of course not. Marvelous.” His tone dripped with disappointment, sarcasm practically steaming off his cloak.

Enid froze, the lingering warmth from her earlier triumph snuffed out instantly. Her fingers curled, trembling slightly, and she glanced down at her hands unchanged. Her face? Normal. No green, no spots. So why was the room suddenly so… quiet?

Eyes. On her. Every one of them.

“Huh?” she breathed, puzzled. Her joy evaporated as confusion settled in. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

She ran her hand down her arm, checking again. Patting body limb checking for abnormalities but there was no distortion. No tentacles. Nothing! But the looks people gave her it was like she’d grown antlers. She patted her head to check.

Her eyes snapped to Ajax, who was suddenly fascinated with the texture of his desk.

“Oh no. Oh no. Ajax, what did you do?” she hissed, horror slowly dawning in her voice.

TBC

Chapter Text

All eyes not exactly on her, but definitely watching the disaster unfold stared as the heavy air clawed its way toward the ceiling. Confused murmurs rippled through the lab, some students backing away instinctively while others just gawked.

Professor Blackwell’s expression didn’t flinch. No eye-pinching dramatics. Just a slow, deliberate glance at the mess.

“Ajax,” he said, voice cutting through the tension like dry ice, “You were instructed to adhere to the protocol. Precisely.”

I felt my stomach drop. “I-I thought I did, sir,” I stammered, heat prickling the back of my neck. “I used nightshade as told... but I didn’t realize there were different kinds. I thought-” 

“You thought,” Blackwell interrupted, tone glacial. “I asked for accuracy. Not assumptions.”

Ajax wanted to sink into the floor as worry rushed into his veins. No recovery this time Ajax was done. He was royally screwed.

Professor Blackwell surveyed the bubbling remains of Ajax’s failure with detached precision. His voice came low, clipped.

“Even a child would’ve understood the fundamentals. I find myself uncertain whether incompetence or carelessness is your greater trait today, Ajax. We’ll rectify your mistake first. The consequences... we’ll deal with it afterward and where your head is at? .”

He stepped back from the mess, his gaze turning to the vacant seat. There was no rush in his movement, only clinical observation.

“Enid,” he continued, staring into the space she should’ve occupied, “Your concoction demonstrated great potential. Regrettably, your partner was an outright disappointment.”

The absence of Enid’s usual chaos had left an eerie gap until it was broken.

“Professor?” Enid said slowly, blinking as she leaned halfway over her desk. “I'm literally right here? You’re staring at my empty seat like I’m some ghost. Unless I spontaneously gain invisibility, I'm still present and very confused.”

Ajax shifted awkwardly beside her, whispering under his breath, “Maybe if you weren't a ghost, he wouldn’t blame me for my screw-up of a potion…”

Then it dawned on Enid….

She was invisible…. ‘ oh just freakin great!’ she thought. She said as she grabbed a tuft of her hair in frustration.

Professor Blackwell continued as he faced the class without expression, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was controlled, with the clinical finality of someone delivering a diagnosis rather than a reprimand.

“Enid, I will explain what has transpired. But first, let us extract a lesson for the room.”

He turned to the students, eyes gliding over the confused faces. “Observe closely. The Camellia Nightshade shares a botanical root with the Amaranthine nightshade, yet differs in one critical respect the pigment. Red is not merely aesthetic; it is symbolic. It signifies love, the one whose heart is bound irrevocably to yours. The only person who shall retain the ability to perceive you, someone who is madly in love with you, some may call it a soulmate, to wolves maybe a mate and others someone they marry, it differs from person to person. In the end only one, not more, can see you but all shall hear you.

Silence hung, sharp and echoing.

Enid’s chair squeaked as she slumped down, muttering into her sleeves. “I’m... invisible. Brilliant. Just fantastic.” She groaned, her thoughts spiraling in her head. “No Insta stories... no outfit reveals... How am I going to blog!!! How am I going to dress up if only one person can see- wait one person!? I swear to the moon, I don't know if-I'm doomed, what if no one loves me? What if I don't have a mate…..”

Enid's mind kept rambling as her eyes went in circles. She put her head in her arms as her confusion grew into anger, she shoved Ajax. “Seriously? Camellia? Are your eyes glitching or did you just guess?”

Ajax was stunned and stumbled backward from Enid's shove, eyes darting through the space she occupied. His confusion only deepened her irritation.

“For moon's sake- I’m right here!” Enid snapped, grabbing his face in both hands, forcing his gaze toward her though it was like aiming a flashlight into fog.

“I... I can’t see you,” Ajax murmured, voice faltering. “But I promise I-I really thought it was the right batch! I swear I checked the labels... they looked identical... I didn’t even know there's different types or that it would make a big difference. I wasn’t trying to screw it all up… I swear” his voice whispered at the end trailing off as Professor Blackwell’s gaze found him again. Cold. Unyielding.

 In a soft tone he said in a pleading tone,“Enid, I don’t know how to fix this. But I swear I’ll try…I’ll find a way. There has to be a cure, something. Just hang on…I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Before his words could settle, Professor Blackwell’s voice descended like steel onto glass.

“Mr. Ajax,” he said, adjusting his glasses with surgical precision. “You persist in clinging to naive assumptions. This is not a matter of antidotes and trial runs.”

He turned slowly, his eyes not on Ajax, not on Enid just on the wreckage of the lesson. “What you have carelessly administered is not reversible. It is a formula built on emotional resonance. Flawed. Obsessively poetic. And deeply inconvenient. Hence why I turned this into a lesson. Another reason why I'm more angry at the situation at hand.”

He allowed the silence to press down before continuing, “The Camellia strain renders a subject imperceptible to all except for the one whose affection eclipses mere sentiment. A soulmate, perhaps. One soul attuned enough to see well as per the rhyme.”

Professor Blackwell didn’t sigh. He didn’t frown. His voice remained impeccably even. “I find the premise absurd. Yet the magic respects no practicality.”

Enid blinked rapidly, still gripping Ajax’s collar, her voice now cracking. “So what you're telling me is... unless someone is stupidly, head-over-heels in love with me. I stay invisible? For who knows how long?”

Professor Blackwell raised a hand, halting Enid's crash out with silent authority. His voice broke the stillness like a scalpel.

“Turn to chapter thirty-six in your Potions and Magic textbook. We’ll let the book speak its lesson.”

A girl seated behind Enid read aloud with caution, voice trembling under the pressure of everyone's attention,

“Drink the brew and fade from eyes,  

Seen by none beneath moonlit skies.  

 But they will hear your tone,  

 The soul whose heart beats with your own  

 Will be the only eyes to lay on yours.  

 To lift the spell, there is a cure

 A whispered vow from them and you.  

 Two confessions to set you free.”

Professor Blackwell did not react to the rhyme’s sentimentality. He simply adjusted his glasses, expression unreadable.

“As detailed,” he said, voice devoid of warmth, “the effects are inconvenient by design. Romantic, yes. Functional, no.”

He turned to face the class with surgical calm. “Enid is invisible. To all except a single soul, should such a person exist they will fail to hear her voice.”

He let the silence weigh on them before continuing.

“This spell is not cured through potions or clever substitutions. It demands emotional reciprocation, complete and simultaneous. Ridiculous, perhaps. But such is the rule etched into its rhyme.”

From the front row, a boy leaned forward, frowning. “But... if her soulmate can't hear her how are they supposed to confess?”

Professor Blackwell did not blink. “Brilliant question. That is what renders this potion more curse than enchantment. It is not a spell built with fairness. It is built with longing.”

Enid collapsed further into her seat, arms crossed like armor. “Great. So I’m a ghost with a punchline. What genius designed a spell where I need someone to magically love me and hear me while I’m mute?”

She turned a glare toward Ajax. “You just had to grab the romantic poison, didn’t you? The one nightshade with emotional side effects.

Ajax’s shoulders sagged. “I didn’t mean to choose wrong. I didn’t even know there was a wrong version. I’ll figure something out, Enid. I swear I will.”

She snorted bitterly. “ Well if you know a way to make me not a blood wolf that's would be great.”

Professor Blackwell stood perfectly still, fingers laced behind his back. His gaze swept over the silent students as though weighing their collective intelligence.

He continued to trail off where he last left off, “Some have argued and debated about a confession made without words. Can confessions be made without sound? It’s a concept both romantic and abstract. Yet, in reality yes. In my opinion, if people who can't speak or hear, they can get the message across, can't they?If one chooses effort over convenience, understanding over noise, then silence needn’t be a barrier. After all, words are trivial when not matched by intent. So yes a silent confession is possible it just takes a pair of keen eyes and wit added with effort to understand another.”

The room fell into an unusual hush, students blinking with new respect caught off guard by this unexpected glimpse into something... deeper. Their teacher actually had a deep understanding of human emotions and relations. Many took this both in educational and social lessons.

Enid, however, was crumbling. “So that’s it?” she burst out. “I’m going to be invisible forever?”

Ajax turned to her, eyes wide and voice reaching for comfort. “Not forever, Enid. You’re a wolf you probably have a mate, right? Somewhere. We’ll find him.”

A girl toward the back chimed in, hesitant. “I don’t think that works… She’s a blood wolf. Isn't she? They don’t get mates. Isn’t that what everyone says?”

Blackwell’s gaze shifted to Enid, analytical and impersonal. “A complication,” he muttered. “So be it.”

Then, oddly, he paused. Adjusted his glasses. A flicker of hesitation, almost human.

“As my father used to say…‘where there’s a will, there’s a way.’”

He glanced at Ajax, then at the vacant seat Enid no longer filled. “We will investigate alternate routes. The rhyme may not be the final answer. But I assure you Enid we will make you be seen. Come what may.” Professor Blackwell awkwardly reassured Enid.

Enid leaned against her desk, unimpressed. “Oh fantastic. Now he’s quoting family folk wisdom like this is a therapy session.”

But Enid didn't really feel reassured, I mean why would she? There were multiple reasons. Firstly, Ajax's brain is made of stones( take that in whatever way you want), secondly, the professor hated her guts. Thirdly, she is a blood wolf, so a mate is out of the question. Fourthly, (damn I should've numbered this instead), she doubts someone can love her that much to be able to see her and lastly and the worst if that stupid rhyme was standard curriculum, then why hadn't anyone in the entire magical community figured out a workaround? And why would Professor Grouchy be the first?

She let her forehead thump against her desk with a long groan.

Ajax leaned closer, cautiously. “Enid, I know I messed up. But just... trust me this once? We’ll solve it. Somehow.” repeated to Enid again but she wasn't even taking him seriously.

She exhaled sharply, not bothering to look up. “Right. You, me, and your tragic talent for potion sabotage. I’m practically glowing with confidence.”

Enid was then seen trudging back towards her dorm, her footsteps light but her mood heavy because who needs gravity when you're emotionally sinking?

 She’d just been excused from class, rightfully so. Her lab partner had just accidentally turned her invisible. 

This wasn’t just a bad day. This was nightmare fuel.

A blood wolf. That’s what she was. And with that came a whole lovely package of complications like the "no known mate in history" clause. The textbook barely gave her kind more than a footnote, and word-of-mouth among the magical crowd was even less encouraging. Most just nodded solemnly and changed the subject.

She’d never expected to find a mate. She hadn’t even been looking. But now... now that she was trapped in the worst kind of magical romantic limbo, her mind betrayed her.

Because if she could choose a mate…just maybe… someone just one it would be her.

That girl.

The one who made Enid’s chest buzz in ways no potion could ever replicate.

But it was stupid. That feeling wasn’t mutual. Enid had spent far too long reading the signs, searching for something to hold on to, and finding only the echo of hope. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t risk it. Not her heart. Not her friendship. Definitely not her dignity!

Still... on days like today, when her whole self felt erased… literally and metaphorically speaking.

She wished. Just for once. Just for one heartbeat of a moment... that the girl she loved might love her back.

“Maybe in another life,” she whispered, voice barely more than a breath. “One where I’m a boy.”she said softly as she sullenly thought of the girl she held dear to her heart.

And with that, she closed her door and disappeared not just from sight, but into the quiet ache inside her chest.