ask-felix-aberg

[ask-felix-aberg]

You see a tabby cat walk up to you in the hallway, a small letter in its mouth. It brushes against your leg and glances up at you before sitting beside you. With a small plop, it drops the letter at your feet, offers a cheerful meow, and trots off down the corridor.

Dear Felix,

I’m so sorry for the late reply! Cocoa came down with something, so I had to send my Hufflepuff friend’s cat instead. He’s much friendlier (and far less dramatic), so hopefully that’s a win.

That all sounds perfect! If you spot a slightly disheveled redheaded Ravenclaw with a periwinkle bow, that’s me.

Unfortunately, my Hufflepuff friend won’t be able to join us after all—he forgot about a Potions essay and is now in a bit of a panic. He sends his luck to both of us, though, and says he’s still interested in joining if things go well and we want to keep this going.

I’m so glad you’ll be there! And I love the name The Crumb Society—it’s absolutely perfect. I’m curious to see how many others might sniff us out (literally). Word travels fast in these halls, especially when cinnamon is involved.

See you on Sunday, E.

Hej E!

Don't worry about the delay! I hope she's feeling better soon, poor thing. Please give her a scratch from me when she allows it and tell her she's missed. (And that I have a small biscuit ready with her name on it if she's ever in the mood).

(As for your feline stand-in: excellent service! Ten out of ten.)

A dishevelled redhead with a periwinkle bow - Noted! I'll keep an eye out. :) If you hear someone calling "Comrade Crumb, report for duty," that's probably me.

Shame about your Hufflepuff friend, but I fully understand. Potions waits for no one. Let him know I'm wishing him luck - and a properly functioning cauldron. He's more than welcome to join us next time! Maybe we could bake something in his honour?

And I'm so glad you like The Crumb Society. I had a few worse options, trust me. (There was a brief moment where I considered "The Rolling Scones.")

Looking forward to Sunday already.

Your Crumb Comrade,

Felix

[ask-felix-aberg]

Felix stood pressed up near the front of the Ravenclaw section in the Quidditch stands, blue scarf fluttering behind him in the breeze and a neat streak of navy paint swiped across each cheekbone. The wind tugged lightly at the ends of his hair as he leaned forward, eyes fixed on the pitch below with unwavering focus.

"Go on, go on! YES! ANDREW, THAT WAS BRILLIANT!" he shouted, both hands wrapped around the railing as Ravenclaw's Keeper blocked a particularly nasty shot from Slytherin. The applause that followed only fuelled him further.

"MONTY, YOU CAN DO IT!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth as the Ravenclaw Chaser streaked across the sky. When Montrose caught the Quaffle clean against his chest, Felix cheered so loudly the fourth years beside him jumped. But his words were cut off into a loud, dramatic gasp as Montrose missed the goal by a hair.

Without thinking, he grabbed @ask-alsius-vafer by the shoulder with both hands and shook him, his excitement too much to keep to himself. "Did you see that?! Did you see that?!!" Felix' voice cracked with energy as he clung to Alsius' arm with both hands, his knuckles tight with adrenaline and his hair slightly tousled.

"I thought it was in!" he exclaimed, grinning wide despite the miss. "He's going to score the next one. I know it! You saw how clean that pass was! He's on it today - come on, Monty!"

Another burst of cheering from the crowd sent up a wave of noise, and Felix joined right in, still holding tight to Alsius' arm with one hand while pumping the other in the air, entirely oblivious to the fact that he might be bruising his poor friend's arm.

"LET'S GO RAVENCLAW!!" he called, voice almost hoarse from shouting.

*During the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch tournament, you hear one fan from the viewing stands shouting particularly loudly.*

"STOP PLAYING LIKE A BLOODY SCRUB AND CLENCH YOUR ARSE CHEEKS TIGHTER, BOY!!!"

You going to let them talk to you like that, @ask-andrew-montrose?

[ask-felix-aberg]

A shy Ravenclaw comes up to Felix with something familiar written on the parchment that she shows you: Pepparkakor.

Hi, um. Felix! I had a question for you, it'll take just a moment. I know you like this…dish. But I only speak English and don't know how to pronounce it, and so I can't tell the house elves to cook it for you, because every elf I ask cannot read what I've written! Im not sure if it's because they can't read or because of my handwriting. But… Can you…teach me? How to say it, I mean! I'm afraid I can't even show them a picture as I have no idea what it even is.

Felix blinked down at the parchment, the familiar word tugging an easy smile to his lips before the explanation had even fully settled.

"Pepparkakor," he repeated gently, with just the faintest trace of his Swedish accent. "It's like… pep-ah-kah-kor. Peppar, like pepper. Kah-kor. You sort of round the sounds out, not too sharp."

He looked up at the witch again, still smiling. "They're spiced ginger biscuits. Really thin and crisp. We usually bake them around the holidays back home. They're mostly shaped like stars or hearts. Or little goats."

Felix tilted his head, leaned in just a little closer, "Want to try saying it with me?"

[ask-felix-aberg]

Dear Gabrielle,

I'd be happy to share my recipe with you. :) It's one I've adjusted over the years, so it's not exactly traditional anymore, but I promise they come out soft and golden and very hard to resist. I'll send it over next time, if you'd like.

As for Rulltårtans Dag - it's exactly what it sounds like, really. A day dedicated to rolled cakes. No tragic backstory, no historical significance. Just a national excuse for a sweet treat. Which feels like reason enough, doesn't it?

Also, your favourites sound incredible! I've never had Biscoff cheesecake before, but now I'm going to be thinking about it until I do. If you're willing to share the recipe, I'd absolutely love to try it - and I might even attempt the petit-beurre taart, though no promises mine will survive the assembly process.

Looking forward to our little international baking exchange. :)

With warm wishes,

Felix

Hi!

I heard you enjoy baking too? Got any special recipes to share? Perhaps something from your home country?

Kind regards

Gabrielle

Dear Gabrielle,

Hej! And yes! :) Quite a lot, actually. It has always been something that calms me down, especially on long days, and honestly, if I can make someone else smile with a sweet treat by the end of it, even better.

Special recipes… hmm. There's one from home I always go back to: kanelbullar - Swedish cinnamon buns. They're warm, soft, slightly cardamom-scented, and perfect with tea or hot chocolate. I usually twist them into knots and top them with pearl sugar. They never last long.

Also, Rulltårtans Dag is coming up in a few weeks, if you're more in the mood for cake.

I'd be happy to share the recipe with you, if you'd like. Or we could bake them together sometime.

What about you? I'm curious - what are your top three go-to recipes? :)

Kind regards,

Felix

[ask-felix-aberg]

Hi!

I heard you enjoy baking too? Got any special recipes to share? Perhaps something from your home country?

Kind regards

Gabrielle

Dear Gabrielle,

Hej! And yes! :) Quite a lot, actually. It has always been something that calms me down, especially on long days, and honestly, if I can make someone else smile with a sweet treat by the end of it, even better.

Special recipes… hmm. There's one from home I always go back to: kanelbullar - Swedish cinnamon buns. They're warm, soft, slightly cardamom-scented, and perfect with tea or hot chocolate. I usually twist them into knots and top them with pearl sugar. They never last long.

Also, Rulltårtans Dag is coming up in a few weeks, if you're more in the mood for cake.

I'd be happy to share the recipe with you, if you'd like. Or we could bake them together sometime.

What about you? I'm curious - what are your top three go-to recipes? :)

Kind regards,

Felix

[ask-felix-aberg]

(Willow is a 6th year. Shes smaller, around 5’3. She’s 17, though, and is dating of course the famous Sebastian Sallow. She’s seen Felix in the halls, and have heard some other Hufflepuff girls whispering about the tall and pretty Sweden Ravenclaw. But it wasn’t until after a baking class did she finally talk to him.)

Willow walked up to him, her light yellow sweater sleeves falling past her hands. Her hair was down and gold. She wore her yellows sweater and a grey skirt, with her white knee high socks and black, flat Mary Jane’s. She’s had the reputation as the Hufflepuff soft girl. Not talking much, and when she did it was always soft spoken and full of gentleness and kindness. They were exiting baking club when she finally caught up to Felix. He was taller, as tall as Sebastian. She was anxious, as she always was when it came to talking to people, but determined to talk to him. He seemed nice, I mean.. they’ve never talked so he hasn’t given her a reason he would be rude. She slowly walked up and tap his arm. “Um… I’m sorry..” She started and looked up at him, sweet and anxious. “I just wanted to say that you seem very good at baking, and.. very kind.. um…” She paused for a second, fidgeting with her sweater sleeves. She bit her lip before looking up at him again. “That’s truly all I was going to say, but.. um… yes! Um… hope to see you again in baking!” She blushed, now embarrassed she didn’t end it smoothly. But at least she got something out!

The tap on his arm was so light that Felix barely registered it at first. He turned around, a polite smile already forming out of habit, though it softened almost immediately when he saw who it was.

"Ah - thank you," he said with a hint of surprise as he rubbed the back of his neck, not quite sure what to do with the unexpected praise. "That's really kind of you to say. I'm just glad it looked that way," he added, his mouth curving into a small, genuine grin.

"I thought your biscuits looked very delicious, by the way. They had this perfect golden colour - truthfully, I was tempted to snatch one when you weren't looking," he admitted, a low laugh slipping out as he cleared his throat lightly.

"I hope to see you again next week as well," Felix went on. "I heard it's Bread Week - been looking forward to it since they pinned up the sign."

As he spoke, Felix noticed a faint streak of flour left just beneath the Hufflepuff’s cheekbone. Without thinking much of it, the tall blond reached out and gently brushed it away with the side of his knuckle.

"There," he murmured softly, withdrawing his hand again with an amused smile. "Can't have you leaving with half the pantry on your face, can we?"

[ask-felix-aberg]

Felix tilts his head slightly at Allegra’s words, a strand of golden hair slipping into his eyes. As he looks down at the small voice beside him, his expression softens almost immediately at the shy, hopeful look on the first year's face.

"Of course I would," he says, a bright, reassuring smile spreading across his face as he crouches down a little so they are nearly eye to eye. "Anyone brave enough to ask deserves at least one round - maybe two, if you don’t mind the smell."

His gaze flicks over to Allegra then, catching her eye, and a small grin starts tugging at his mouth.

"I'll hold the fort here," he adds lightly, nodding towards the Gobstone set, before turning back to the first year. "Ready when you are."

"Erm, would you play one round of Gobstones with me? Please?" a young first year asks you.

"Zenobia keeps mocking me..."

Oh, look, it’s @ask-felix-aberg.

As for Zenobia, I’ll speak with her.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Brushing a bit of ash off his sleeve, the Ravenclaw crouched to inspect the scorch mark on the floor. He hummed faintly under his breath, more amused than annoyed, and gently nudged a half-melted spoon out of sight with the toe of his shoe. Probably best not to ask which attempt that had belonged to.

Straightening with a soft sigh, he rolled his sleeves back past his elbows, picked up the now-dripping tea towel from the floor, and wrung it out absently over the sink. The hiss of water against metal was the only sound for a moment, save for the quiet murmur of voices behind him.

His eyes flicked briefly toward the exchange behind him, lips twitching as he watched the two bicker with familiar ease.

Without a word, he turned back to the counter and calmly began re-measuring the flour - though his shoulders shook ever so slightly in silent laughter.

Hey, you! My, aren't you looking marvelous today~?

And....hot. Hot?? Hot!

Felix, I think your companion there may have set fire to the stove! He seems to be panicking. I'm panicking.

Why are you not panicking?

"Who says I am not panicking?!" Felix shot back, eyes wide as he flung open a drawer in search of - Merlin knows - a cloth, a lid, something!

His hand gripped the handle of a nearby tea towel, halfway raised to swat at the growing flames, before he froze. "Oh. Right."

He dropped the cloth, grabbed his wand, and aimed at the smoking mess. "Aguamenti!"

A strong jet of water burst forward, dousing the stove and hissing out the fire in seconds. Steam clouded the air before he waved the smoke away with his sleeve. "Crisis contained," he muttered, exhaling hard.

He glanced down at the charred tray and winced. "We will have to bake that again," he added, offering his companion a lopsided smile as he gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Hey, you! My, aren't you looking marvelous today~?

And....hot. Hot?? Hot!

Felix, I think your companion there may have set fire to the stove! He seems to be panicking. I'm panicking.

Why are you not panicking?

"Who says I am not panicking?!" Felix shot back, eyes wide as he flung open a drawer in search of - Merlin knows - a cloth, a lid, something!

His hand gripped the handle of a nearby tea towel, halfway raised to swat at the growing flames, before he froze. "Oh. Right."

He dropped the cloth, grabbed his wand, and aimed at the smoking mess. "Aguamenti!"

A strong jet of water burst forward, dousing the stove and hissing out the fire in seconds. Steam clouded the air before he waved the smoke away with his sleeve. "Crisis contained," he muttered, exhaling hard.

He glanced down at the charred tray and winced. "We will have to bake that again," he added, offering his companion a lopsided smile as he gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Cocoa flies into the Great Hall, diving straight toward you as she settles herself briefly on your head. A small piece of parchment is clutched tightly in her beak as she waits for her offered scratches—only then does she drop the paper into your lap.

Dear Felix,

Thank you, truly, for being so kind. I was a bit worried you’d think it was silly—or worse, impractical. But you didn’t, and that means more than I can properly put into words.

I suppose I’m better at writing than speaking, which... probably explains a lot.

Sunday afternoons would work best. I’ve got Astronomy logs due Monday, and Potions is being particularly cruel this week. But I’ll make time. I’ll even ask to borrow my Hufflepuff friend’s apron—the one who called me a “danger to the kitchen.”

I’ll be careful this time. And the cinnamon apple cake sounds like a divine idea! I’d also love to learn the biscuit recipe. Maybe I have hope, if it’s nearly impossible to mess up. I swear, Potions and baking go hand in hand... which reminds me—

Maybe this is ridiculous, but—if this goes well—would you like to propose a Baking Club with me? I mean, it is similar to Potions, in theory. Just something small. Informal. The kitchens once a week, maybe. I think people forget how comforting it is to make something with your hands, especially when the world is full of deadlines and enchanted staircases with no sense of direction.

I know my Hufflepuff friend would join in a heartbeat—even if only to supervise me and make sure the castle doesn’t burn down.

So, thank you, Felix. For inspiring the idea, and for the cake suggestion. I’m already looking forward to it.

Warmly, - E.

P.S. I believe your handwriting is suspiciously perfect. Is there a secret magical calligraphy class I missed?

Felix was just about to enjoy his waffles - golden, warm, perfectly crisp, and stacked with a drizzle of honey - when a familiar weight landed squarely on his head. The Ravenclaw flinched, one hand shooting up instinctively. "Ow, Cocoa, please," he muttered, trying to nudge the owl off his hair gently but urgently.

But the owl remained stubbornly stung to him, her claws tangled in his golden strands. Felix sighed through his nose.

"All right. Fine. Just - hold still. Honestly..." He managed to reach up and offer her a scratch behind the head, which earned him an approving hoot and a proud drop into his lap, where she promptly fluffed up and made herself at home. Felix shook his head lightly, amused despite looking like a scarecrow now, and picked up the parchment.

Still gently scratching the cinnamon-soft feathers with one hand, the blond unfolded the paper with the other, eyes scanning the neat script. His smile warmed as he read, while occasionally tearing off a small piece off his waffle to share with his guest.

With no spare scroll in sight, Felix turned the letter over and smoothed it carefully against the table.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dear E.,

Sunday sounds great! I'll meet you by the portrait with the bowl of fruit.

And don't be nervous. We'll manage this together! Even if it gets a little messy, I promise we'll figure it out. Just tell your Hufflepuff friend to prepare themselves. They might end up regretting their words (and begging for more biscuits) when we're done. :)

As for the Baking Club... I'll have to think about it properly, but if I remember my timetable right, I might be able to squeeze it in. Just something little and informal does sound nice. Once a week just to keep stress at bay and the castle smelling like cinnamon. Though if we're naming it something, I vote for The Crumb Society.

Looking forward to Sunday,

Felix

P.S. I'm flattered you like my handwriting! Apologies for the ink spots - Cocoa just jostled my elbow.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Felix, what would be your reaction if you found out that one of your siblings also got a Hogwarts letter?

Only one? Merlin, imagine that. I really hope both of them will be accepted. The bickering would never end otherwise. :)

I won't be there when they arrive, though. Which is… hard to think about, if I'm honest.

Still, I'd write to them, of course. Loads. Probably annoy them with it. And I'd send sweets too. Care packages even, stuffed with all the good things.

I'd want them to have their own adventure, find their own favourite corners and classes and people. But I'd also make sure they knew who to avoid... and where the best snacks are hidden.

And maybe - just before they leave - I would send Mademoiselle to sneak a note under each pillow. Just something silly. So they know I'm with them. Even if I'm not there to wave them off.

I would be so proud.

[ask-felix-aberg]

Felix stayed still as Hellendil worked, watching the other Ravenclaw's fingers move with concentration. The firelight flickered gently across both of them, casting soft gold against the plum strands as they finally slipped free, one loop after another, until the last knot came undone. His wrists were his again.

"Much better, thank you," the tall blond murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting as his gaze met Hellendil's.

"I suppose I'll get there eventually - with your patience," he added while reaching up to give his friend a soft, affectionate boop on the tip of his nose.

"Thank you," he said, grinning now. "You're my knitting hero."

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow across the floor where Hellendil and Felix sat side by side.

The tall blond, however, was less at ease. Felix' hands were completely entangled, wrists bound tight in a stubborn web of dark grey and plum yarn. He gave the strands a tentative tug with his teeth, trying to loosen the worst of it, but the knot only seemed to tighten further.

With a quiet, defeated sigh, he turned his head to look at Hellendil, lips still lightly pressed in frustration. "How is it," he asked, exasperation softened by admiration, "that you're so good at this? The hooks listen to you like your wand."

He gave the yarn another futile wiggle. "I think mine have a vendetta."

The warm comfort of the plush Persian rug, crackling fire in the hearth and good company of his fellow housemate was perfect for relaxing on a crisp spring day.  Slowly and steadily wrapping the colorful yarn around the hook and threading it through, Hellendil counted the stitches as he went.  He was so focused, he nearly missed the soft sigh from his companion beside him.

Looking up from his work to see Felix's predicament, he smiled softly and set his piece aside to help.  "I'm really still a novice at this myself, Felix, but thank you," he replied, flushing a bit as he took his hands and searched for the errant strand binding the blond's wrists.  "My Nan showed me some basics when I was younger and I thought it might be a rather calm and low risk craft for us to learn together." Nodding to the tangle of yarn, he continued, "This used to happen all the time when I was little, playing with her yarn, and Nan had to rescue me.  Eventually I figured it out."  

Locating the source of the knot, Hellendil reached for Felix's hook and tugged at the offender until the knot started to loosen.  "I think I've almost got it," he remarks, looking up and smiling back at his friend. Setting the hook aside, he leaned closer, pulling at just the right strands for the knot to release the Swede's wrists. 

"There!  How's that?" he asks, looking up to find himself just inches away from Felix.

[ask-felix-aberg]

You’re minding your own business in the common room when the windows suddenly bang open—dramatically—and in flutters a small, cinnamon-colored short-eared owl with entirely too much personality for her size.

She lands with a little thump on the arm of your chair, puffing her feathers like she owns the place. In her beak is a folded parchment sealed with a pressed petal charm and faint flour smudges along the edges.

Before releasing it, she fixes you with an unblinking stare, then insists—insists—on chin scratches. Only after a few awkward scratches does she finally drop the letter into your lap, hoot once as if to say “You're welcome,” and flutter off without another word, vanishing back through the open window in a blur of feathers and attitude.

The note reads:

Dear Felix,

Hi. I… wasn’t sure how to say this out loud, so I’m writing instead. (It’s easier when paper can’t give you a funny look.)

I’ve overheard a few people say you like to bake, and that you’re really good at it. If it isn’t too much trouble, would you maybe be willing to share a few tips?

I’ve tried before—but let’s just say it didn’t go exactly well. My Hufflepuff friend (who shall remain nameless to protect the embarrassed) has officially retired from teaching me, citing—and I quote—“You’re a danger to the kitchen” and “It’s for everyone’s safety.”

To be fair, that bowl sort of threw itself into the fire. And the flour explosion? Entirely theoretical. Still, I’ve been warned by the house elves that I’m one incident away from a lifetime ban.

But I swear—I’m trying to improve. I promise I’ll listen, and I won’t be a fire hazard. Probably.

Anyway, if you’re willing, I’d love to learn from you. Even just a few minutes in the kitchens sometime—if the house elves allow it. If not, maybe a recipe or two?

Thank you for even reading this.

— E.

P.S. I hope Cocoa behaved herself. I’m not used to having a pet owl.

P.S.S Please excuse any accidental ink blots or flour dust. I’m still learning how to keep my hands steady.

Felix had just settled into an armchair to read something when the common room window slammed open - hard enough to startle a first-year two chairs over - and a second later, something small and feathery came barrelling in.

The owl hit the armrest beside the Ravenclaw with a purposeful thump, tail feathers twitching as she fluffed herself up like she owned the place. Felix blinked, brows lifting slightly, but before he could say a word, the owl fixed him with an unblinking, pointed stare.

She did not move. Felix exhaled softly through his nose, setting his book aside as the intensity of her gaze made it absolutely clear that ignoring her was not an option.

"All right, all right, hang on," he murmured, lips twitching as he reached out to offer a gentle scratch beneath her beak. The owl tilted her head decisively into his hand, utterly shameless about the demand. Only once she had deemed the scratches sufficient did she drop the folded parchment squarely into his lap, let out one sharp hoot and launched herself back through the open window she'd come through.

The tall blond brushed a few feathers off from his sleeve, then turned his attention to the note.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─☆: .☽ . :☆─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dear E.,

First things first: Thank you. For your letter and for trusting me with it. And no, I would never give you (or anyone) a funny look for asking. Promise. I'm always happy to help. And I doubt it was that bad. I've dropped a tray of croissants down three flights of stairs once, so you're in good company. Some disasters make excellent stories! :)

I wouldn't call myself a master baker, but my friends seem to like what I make, so I suppose I must be doing something right. I'd love to share a few tips. Honestly, I think baking together is much more fun.

Let me know what days might work for you, and we'll plan something. You might want to bring an apron, just in case.

There's a biscuit recipe I know that's nearly impossible to mess up (unless you forget they're in the oven, which, yes, I've done), and a cinnamon apple cake that might be perfect for this weather. We could start there?

Already looking forward to it,

Felix

P.S. Cocoa was charming, really. I'm a little in love with her. :)

P.S.S. No worries about the flour. Made the letter smell like biscuits. Quite frankly, I'm not complaining.