Ghost Hunting
Adelor still wasn’t so sure whether he wanted to tutor people in Potions. But the truth was, at least in potions he had to do nothing but to read recipes and help the first years distinguish ingredients. It was an easy job, reading stuff out loud and saying ‘oh, this is not as green as it should be’. In SAC he’d have to actually be good at spells, which he wasn’t, Herbology had always been his brother’s class, Anthropology and History was only learning things by heart, for Scriptus you needed a neat handwriting which he hadn’t, to be tutoring Flying you needed at least to be able to sit on a broom, and while he did not entirely suck at that, there were others who were much better at it. So Potions it was, even if he wasn’t so sure why.
With his brewed potion - the proof for Tyl that he had been studying - he therefore stood by a tree not far from the old ruins. He did not want to think how his first impression of Haus Bronze had been, how fiercely quiet the forest around him was, and how terribly, terribly lonely he felt. His hand was clutching his mother’s necklace, buried deep down in his pocket, and his eyes were closed, as though it would make him forget that he so far away from everything and everyone he loved. That he was breaking the rules again. That there was no logical reason for him to be happy that Tyl didn’t hate him. That he was terrified.