Beloved Madelaine,

Verily, I say to you that this Hogwarts School is a hard place indeed. Upon laying down my sword and helm in parting from the way of the warrior, I could expect no less than to retire to the laurels of academia in peace. Little did I know I would be surrounded by traitorous knaves and sniveling whelps at every turn. Whereas once I was Auberon the Warrior Mage among my father’s men, I find myself now wearing the mantle of scholar and finding succor only in the balm of your words.

The children here, aside from those in our own noble house, are interminable. Indeed, it seems as if the very walls are teeming with ill-behaved tykes without concept of courage or pride. Would that all children could grow up in Gryffindor House! Instead, these babes are doomed to become weaklings, mired in self-serving pursuits for base concepts. In sooth, there is no pursuit more worthy than to live and die for the good of another. All my pity falls on these children, and all my disdain on the wretches they will become in maturity – if truly any are mature without the conscience of a Lion heart.

I have now been at this school for two years. My long years on the field of battle seem like a remote dreamland to me now, just as the native soil where you and our sons dwell seems as only the sweetest of heavens to me. What strange muse has placed the craggy heights and heathered fens of my childhood before me? Surely, it was this same strange muse pried my eager fingers from ‘round my banner and replaced it with the rod of learning. I can only attribute it thus that I now remember those bloody days as glorious.

Attempts to draw upon my old life in my new have been dissuaded by the Headmaster. Prithee, tell me I did not once greatly admire this man to such distraction! He is naught but a weak, elderly fool, far too worried about coddling the babes than about ensuring these rising warriors are ready for the battle of life. He has even deigned to forbid my lessons on hand combat.

Forsooth, my time here must soon draw to an end. Hawkley and Beardbrawn scribe long missives regarding my new status within the Order. Your mellifluous words of warning are well heeded but I yearn for the day my hearth and yours are one and the same. If I cannot save these children for the might of Gryffindor from within the once hallowed halls of Hogwarts, I fear I must save those of us who escape unharmed from without.

I remain as always,
Your Auberon