The Reflection Society
It started in Diagon Alley.
A young witch named Cassie Morningside entered a shop to buy a mirror. She never came out.
All that remained was a single silver rose left on the glass.
Hermione was the first to connect the dots. She showed up at Grimmauld Place one night with a suitcase full of files and a whiteboard already scribbled with lines, dates, and cursed object sightings.
“We have a problem,” she said.
Draco, already seated on Harry’s couch with a glass of firewhisky, raised a brow. “More than the usual ‘evil dark wizard’ problem?”
Hermione tossed a photograph on the table. It was the same mirror from the Hollow ruins. Still intact. Still glowing faintly. Now appearing in random places—abandoned houses, Ministry evidence rooms, and even a Hogwarts corridor, before vanishing.
Harry frowned. “It’s like it’s… moving.”
“No.” Hermione looked him dead in the eye. “It’s searching.”
Draco leaned forward. “For what?”
She hesitated, then answered:
“You, Harry.”
Meanwhile…
In the underbelly of Knockturn Alley, a secret meeting was taking place.
A masked woman stood at the center of a circle of robed figures. Her voice was calm, cold, and confident.
“The Thorn bloodline carries the key. Not just to Alaric’s return… but to immortality. The Heir doesn’t know it yet, but he is our path.”
The followers chanted a name. Over and over. Softly.
“Hollow Heir. Hollow Heir. Hollow Heir.”