Chapter 2
The next morning, as Avaluna opened her eyes, she felt different. Even when she had first learned about Hogwarts, she had never felt quite like this. This... this is my first step toward freedom. The thought made her smile—an unfamiliar yet comforting feeling.
She freshened up, noticing the set of new clothes waiting for her. Transfigured, she thought, running her fingers over the fabric. After bathing and changing, she made her way to Salazar's bedchamber.
He was already seated at the table, a plate of food before him, untouched. At the sight of her, he looked up. "Ah, just in time. Come, have breakfast."
She raised an eyebrow. "How did you know I was awake?"
"I have wards around," he answered simply. "I can sense everything within my domain."
She hummed in acknowledgment, filing the information away as she served herself food.
As they ate, a question nagged at her mind. "Why haven't my clothes changed back to their original state? I thought Transfiguration was only temporary."
Salazar set down his goblet, his gaze sharp yet patient. "Indeed, most Transfiguration is temporary. However, to make it permanent, a binding agent is required—something that connects the magic to you. Blood, hair, nails... something of yourself." He gestured toward her robes. "In this case, I used a small clipping of my fingernail to bind the magic permanently."
Avaluna nodded, fascinated despite herself. Magic still held so many secrets.
Then, as if remembering something, Salazar's eyes darkened. "Now, tell me—after you killed my familiar, where did you bury him?"
She stiffened. "I... didn't." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "The basilisk's body... it's still where it was slain."
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Salazar's jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around his goblet. But instead of lashing out, he exhaled slowly. "I will deal with that later." His tone was cool, measured. "For now, let us eat. Then, we will continue."
Breakfast resumed in silence, but the tension lingered. Once Tipsy appeared to clear the table, Salazar moved to his study, settling into a high-backed chair. He motioned for Avaluna to follow, and she obediently took a seat opposite him.
"You said your third year was the best," he mused. "That intrigues me. I would like to know why."
A soft smile tugged at her lips, bittersweet memories flooding her mind. "Where do I even begin?"
And so, she told him.
She spoke of the rage and power she had felt when she blew up Aunt Marge—the thrill of losing control, the absolute satisfaction of watching her inflate like the wretched toad she was. She noticed the smirk of amusement flicker across Salazar's face at that.
She described her first taste of freedom, living alone in Diagon Alley, wandering through the streets with no one to order her around. It had been brief, but for the first time, she had felt like she belonged somewhere.
As Avaluna recounted her third year, her expression darkened slightly.
"The Dementors," she murmured. "That was the first time I felt true helplessness."
Salazar's gaze sharpened. "Dementors?"
She nodded, recalling the cold. The bone-deep, soul-crushing despair. "They were assigned as guards to Hogwarts. Supposedly to 'protect' us from Sirius Black." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "But the very first time I encountered them... was on the train."
She shuddered at the memory. The sudden drop in temperature. The way the light dimmed, as if the world itself was being suffocated. And then—the unbearable weight of sadness, of loss.
"I heard my mother's screams," she admitted quietly. "The night she died."
Salazar's fingers twitched against the armrest of his chair, but he said nothing, letting her continue.
"Lupin—one of my professors—drove them away with a Patronus," she said. "But that wasn't the last time."
She clenched her fists.
"They came onto the Quidditch pitch during a match."
Salazar stiffened. "And no one stopped them?"
Avaluna laughed bitterly. "Of course not. They weren't supposed to be there, but they were. And because of that, I nearly died."
She described the feeling of falling—of the Dementors pulling at her very soul—before she had blacked out and woke up in the hospital wing. The humiliation. The anger.
"That was when I started learning the Patronus Charm," she continued. "Because I refused to feel that helpless again."
She told him how Lupin had guided her, how she had struggled, how it had taken time before she could conjure even a wisp of silver mist.
"And then... I did it." A small, proud smile played on her lips. "A full Patronus."
Salazar leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "And what form did it take?
"A doe."
His gaze flickered with recognition, but he said nothing.
She explained the frustration of not being allowed to go to Hogsmeade, the sting of being left behind. Then, the exhilaration of sneaking in with the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak. The shock of seeing Peter Pettigrew's name on the map. The way her heart had raced with confusion, fear, and a creeping suspicion that something was very, very wrong.
And then—the truth.
The revelation that Sirius Black was her godfather, the man meant to raise her. The anger, the disbelief, the desperation to believe in something good. The burning regret of letting Pettigrew escape, the guilt of not stopping him when she had the chance.
"But," she whispered, "for a moment... just a moment, I was happy. Sirius told me I could live with him. I had hope." Her voice cracked slightly, and she quickly composed herself.
Avaluna exhaled, composing herself before diving into the next part. "Then came the... time travel."
Salazar raised a brow. "Time travel?"
"Yes." Her tone turned incredulous. "Hogwarts—a school that restricts underage magic, that monitors every spell we cast—allowed a thirteen-year-old to use a Time-Turner. Hermione had been using one all year to attend multiple classes, and Dumbledore knew about it."
Salazar's expression darkened. "And they allowed this?"
She nodded grimly. "And when it suited them, they used it for more."
She recounted how, instead of adults handling Sirius's unjust imprisonment or Buckbeak's execution, she and Hermione—two third-years—had been the ones to fix everything. They had broken Sirius out, freed Buckbeak, and rewritten fate itself.
"All while adults stood by," she muttered, shaking her head. "The Ministry, the professors... they let children do their work."
Salazar sat in contemplative silence for a long moment. Then, he exhaled slowlySalazar leaned back, steepling his fingers. "You were right," he finally said. "Your third year was far better than the others."
She exhaled a short laugh. "It's the best out of my five years so far."
He nodded. "Still, I find it appalling how little you were taught. Hogwarts has fallen into disgraceful hands." A slow smirk curled at his lips. "I'm positively thrilled to learn about the rest of your so-called education."
Avaluna's smile faded. Her stomach churned slightly at the thought of what came next.
Salazar noticed. His eyes gleamed with interest. "Your fourth year, then?"
She nodded, expression somber. "My fourth year... changed everything."
And so, she began.
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As Avaluna began recounting her fourth year, a shadow passed over her face. Unlike the previous years, this one had been riddled with ominous dreams and an unsettling connection she could no longer ignore. It had started as whispers—fragmented voices in the darkness, eerie murmurs that slithered into her subconscious. At first, she dismissed them as the remnants of exhaustion, but as the visions grew clearer, she realized she was seeing things through another's eyes. Dim torchlight, stone walls damp with decay, and a high, cruel voice issuing commands—commands laced with malice.
Salazar listened intently, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
"You are experiencing a connection to the Dark Lord," he stated. "That should not be possible unless..." he trailed off, deep in thought, Avaluna swallowed hard.
"The night he returned..." she began, her voice quieter. "I don't know how, but something tied me to him. I felt it when I was at the World Cup, even before I understood what it meant." She paused, her mind flashing to the chaos of the Quidditch World Cup—the dark mark in the sky, the terror that had rippled through the crowd. "It was there, in the air. That... presence."
Salazar frowned, his brow furrowing. "A premonition?"
Avaluna nodded slowly. "More than that. A connection. The moment the Dark Mark appeared, I felt something shift within me—like the magic itself had wrapped around my soul. I didn't know what to make of it."
Salazar's lips twisted into a slight grimace. "Indeed. The magic binding you to him is not born of blood but of something darker—something more ancient."
Avaluna shivered, though her expression remained firm. She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed in such stark terms made it all the more real.
"Such magic is unnatural," Salazar muttered. "Reckless."
The conversation lingered in her mind, but she pressed forward, recounting how her year had taken an unexpected turn with the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament. She had been eager to witness the legendary event from the sidelines, never expecting to be thrust into the middle of it.
The night her name had erupted from the Goblet of Fire was burned into her memory. The stunned silence of the Great Hall, the way every head had turned towards her in disbelief, and worst of all—the betrayal in Ron's eyes. The whispers, the accusations, the sickening weight of knowing she had been made a pawn in yet another scheme.
Salazar scoffed at her recounting. "They would rather blame a child than seek the truth. And your so-called friend abandoned you so easily?" His voice was sharp with disdain.
"He came around eventually," Avaluna admitted, but the hurt still lingered.
Despite the heavy weight of isolation, she faced each trial with determination. For the first task, rather than relying on brute force, she had sought a more cunning approach. Speaking to the dragon in Parseltongue had been a gamble, but it had paid off. She convinced the beast she meant no harm, subtly guiding it to shift its weight just enough for her to snatch the golden egg.
For the second task, she had refused to rely on gillyweed, instead delving into ancient texts—ones she now realized had been Salazar's own collection. A lesser-known water-breathing charm had granted her the ability to navigate the Black Lake without limitation, ensuring she could rescue not just Ron, but Fleur's sister as well.
When she mentioned Ron's earlier betrayal, Salazar simply muttered, "Trust, once broken, never fully mends."
The third task had been the worst. The maze had been treacherous, filled with obstacles meant to disorient and destroy. She had reached the Triwizard Cup alongside Cedric, the moment of shared victory turning into a nightmare when they were transported to the graveyard.
Her voice wavered as she recalled Cedric's death—how helpless she had been, bound by magical restraints as Voldemort was reborn using her own blood. She clenched her fists as she recounted the duel, the brother wands, the desperate escape with Cedric's lifeless body.
"I could feel it," she murmured. "Something changed that night. It wasn't just that Voldemort had returned...it was something in me."
Salazar nodded, his expression unreadable. "You have been marked by something far beyond a mere scar, Avaluna. This magic intertwines your fates. But tell me—what did that fool Dumbledore do upon your return?"
Her laugh was bitter. "He sent me back to the Dursleys."
Salazar's expression darkened. "The incompetence of this era's so-called leaders continues to astound me."
A silence stretched between them before he finally spoke again. "This is only the beginning. The darkness has returned, but so too has your strength. I trust you will be prepared."
Avaluna met his gaze, resolve burning in her eyes. "I have to be."
Salazar nodded approvingly. "Then we shall begin preparing you in earnest. But for now, I need to know what happened this year as you sought my return."
Avaluna exhaled, the weight of her memories pressing heavily upon her shoulders. But this time, she would face the storm prepared and unarmed no longer.
With a deep breath, Avaluna began recounting the year that had changed everything—her fifth year at Hogwarts. It was a time of challenges, revelations, and the constant battle to hold onto hope amid the darkness.
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The weeks following my return to the Dursleys were suffocating. Silence. I don't know what I had expected, but I certainly didn't expect to be greeted by the empty, oppressive quiet that hung around me like a suffocating shroud. Not a single letter, no comforting words from anyone, not even a simple, "Are you okay?" The silence was deafening, a constant reminder that I was alone.
Each night, I was haunted by visions—flashes of green light, desperate screams, and the chilling echo of Voldemort's return. The images of Cedric's lifeless body and Voldemort stepping from the cauldron haunted me relentlessly. It was the same vision on repeat: "Not Ava, please, not Ava!" And then, that moment—his cold, predatory gaze locking onto mine.
I know I should have expected it—there was always a price to pay for being tied to that kind of power. But I hadn't anticipated feeling so exposed, so entirely trapped in the aftermath.
Salazar's voice interrupted my thoughts. "The connection between you and him is not something easily severed. Even as you struggle, the bond only strengthens."
I nodded, my thoughts drifting back to that night.
Weeks passed, and I learned the bitter truth. I wasn't truly alone—not even in the most private corners of my life. The Order had stationed members nearby, but none of them reached out. None of them cared enough to check on me. My friends, sworn to secrecy, couldn't even send me a simple message. They were forbidden from offering any comfort. Fury simmered beneath my skin, but there was also betrayal—a crushing weight that pressed on my chest.
Salazar's eyes darkened as he observed me. "They left you to rot, and for what? Their own safety? It is the same in every era, isn't it? Those in power would rather stand by and watch the suffering unfold than risk their own skins."
He was right. But there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing but endure.
The Ministry trial was a blur—frustration, defiance, and a sense of helplessness that lingered long after. Returning to Hogwarts, I thought maybe—just maybe—I'd find some semblance of peace. But no. The weight of isolation only deepened. Dumbledore, the one man I had once trusted—looked up to—refused to even meet my gaze. He ignored me.
Salazar's voice was laced with disdain as I mentioned Dumbledore's rejection. "What did you expect from a man who hides behind power and titles? Trust is a currency he never seems to have."
I let out a bitter laugh. "I was hoping for more than that, but I guess I was foolish."
The days that followed were filled with dread, especially when I stepped into that wretched Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Dolores Umbridge. The woman's presence was suffocating, and the detentions? Pure torment. But amidst all the chaos, I found something I could control—something that didn't make me feel so powerless.
The visions came again, this time of Arthur Weasley being attacked. I saw it before it happened—felt it before it occurred—and this time, instead of being paralyzed, I acted. I saved him.
Salazar's voice echoed in my mind, approving. "You are learning to wield the chaos. Good. Do not let your emotions make you weak. Use them."
It was a small victory, but one that gave me a brief sense of control.
But then came the Occlumency lessons with Snape. The more I tried to block him out, the worse it got. Each session felt like I was tearing open old wounds, only to have new ones inflicted in their place.
The memories he forced me to see—my father tormenting a young Severus, laughing as if it were a joke, and then the final blow: Snape's venomous words about my mother. "Mudblood."
My hands clenched into fists, the grief, shame, and anger crashing over me. The conflicting emotions were too much. Too much.
Salazar's voice cut through the storm of my thoughts. "You see, it is not the magic that causes the damage. It is the people. The weak ones. They are the ones who hurt us most."
I swallowed hard, pushing the memories back.
Amidst all of this, the formation of Dumbledore's Army became my anchor. Teaching others to defend themselves, guiding them through spells both light and dark—it gave me purpose. For a moment, I felt like I had a reason to keep going. Like I had control again.
But then... he arrived.
Sirius.
I saw him—trapped in the Department of Mysteries. Tortured. And I couldn't just sit there and do nothing. Driven by a desperate need to save him, I led my friends into that cursed place, right into Voldemort's trap.
I should have known better. I knew it was a trap. But I couldn't help myself.
In the chaos that followed, I lost him. My last piece of family.
Salazar's voice was cold as he observed me, his words cutting through the grief. "You acted out of desperation, not reason. Remember this: desperation blinds you to the truth, to what matters."
I didn't need to be reminded. I already knew.
I watched Sirius fall, his life slipping away as Bellatrix's laughter echoed in the hall. It was too much to bear. And in that moment, something inside me snapped. Grief turned into rage, and for the first time, I cast a spell of pure vengeance. "Crucio."
Salazar was silent for a moment, watching my face carefully. Then he spoke, his voice almost approving. "You have power, Avaluna. But do not forget that the darker the magic, the harder it is to control."
But it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
Then, Voldemort arrived.
Every part of me burned with hatred, with the desire for revenge. But before I could act, he stepped in. Dumbledore. The same man who had ignored me all year, who had watched me struggle. And he took the fight as his own.
I had been ready to end it. Ready to fight—and Dumbledore stepped in and claimed my battle.
Salazar's voice was sharp, almost amused. "The puppet takes control when the strings snap. Typical of him."
I couldn't even argue with that. Nothing about that moment was fair. It shattered me completely.
And you know what happened next, Salazar. That was when I performed the ritual—the one that summoned you. I had no choice. I needed someone who understood the darkness, someone who could guide me through the storm. You were the only one left who could help me find a way to control the power that was tearing me apart.
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Avaluna's POV
Salazar's voice was calm yet firm, filled with a quiet assurance as he replied, "I will help you, Avaluna. This is not only your fight, but also mine. Hogwarts—this place—is my home, my creation. I built it alongside the others. Its fate is entwined with mine, and I will not stand idly by while it crumbles."
Before I could say anything more, there was a soft pop, and Tipsy, the house elf, appeared, bowing deeply. Her ears twitched nervously as she spoke.
"Sorry for the interruption, sir, but Headmaster is looking for Heiress Potter. He wants to meet with her."
Salazar's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing something deeper behind this sudden summons. "Very well," he said, his voice measured. "She will go. You may return to your duties."
Turning to me, he added, "Go meet him, Avaluna. Let's see what he wants now."
I stood rooted in place, my body tense with frustration. I didn't want to see Dumbledore. After everything—his silence, his secrets—why should I listen to him now? But Salazar, seeing the storm brewing in my eyes, spoke before I could lash out.
"You're angry," he said evenly, "but before you unleash it, remember—knowledge of your enemy is power. We need to know what he wants. That knowledge will give us an advantage in the battles to come.
I clenched my jaw but nodded, forcing myself to push past my emotions. Without another word, I turned and walked toward the entrance.
As I approached the statue, it moved aside without me uttering the password, as if it already knew I had arrived. Stepping into the Headmaster's office, I found Dumbledore standing near the window, his back to me. He didn't turn, but when he spoke, his voice was calm, carrying that same frustrating wisdom he always seemed to wear like armor.
"Avaluna," he said at last. "There is much you do not yet understand."
I crossed my arms, my anger simmering beneath my skin. "Then enlighten me."
He sighed, finally turning to face me, his expression unreadable. "There is a reason for everything that has happened to you. A reason your parents were targeted, a reason Voldemort fears you. It is time you learned the truth."
And then he told me.
The prophecy.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives..."
The words echoed in my mind like a curse. My parents had defied Voldemort three times. I was born at the end of July. I was marked by him—the lightning bolt scar that had burned my skin since childhood was his doing.
"It was never about protecting me," I said coldly, realization dawning like a sickening weight in my gut. "You raised me like a pawn, like a weapon, waiting for the moment I'd be ready to walk to my death."
Dumbledore didn't deny it.
His expression was solemn, his blue eyes filled with something that looked almost like regret. "I have made mistakes," he admitted, "but you must understand, Avaluna, that you are the only one who can end this war. This is a burden that no one else can bear."
My fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. "You let me suffer. You let me be alone. You let me think I had people who cared about me while keeping them from me. You let Sirius die!"
Dumbledore flinched, but I was beyond caring. Fury roared through me like wildfire, and before I could stop myself, my magic lashed out. The windows shattered. Books and artifacts crashed to the floor. Paintings shrieked and fled their frames.
"I hate you," I spat, voice shaking with rage.
And then I left.
I stormed straight to the Chamber of Secrets, my magic crackling in the air around me. My fury was a living thing, and I needed an outlet before it consumed me.
Salazar must have sensed it before I arrived, because as I entered, he was already waiting. He stood in the center of the chamber, his emerald robes barely shifting in the cool underground air. His gaze flickered over me, taking in my trembling form, the way my hair whipped wildly around me, the way my eyes glowed Avada green with unchecked rage.
He didn't speak. He didn't try to stop me. He just let me be.
I exploded. I told him everything, every word Dumbledore had said, every cruel truth I had been forced to swallow. By the time I finished, my voice was hoarse, my chest heaving from the sheer force of my emotions.
Salazar's expression darkened as he listened, his jaw tightening, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. But he didn't curse Dumbledore. He didn't make grand promises of vengeance. Instead, he stepped forward and, with a slow certainty, pulled me into a hug.
Not an intimate one. Not romantic.
Just... solid. Steady. A pillar of strength when mine had crumbled.
For the first time in months, I allowed myself to breathe.
After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice calm but filled with a quiet fury. "I have a theory about what's truly happening," he murmured, "but we will discuss it later."
I frowned, my mind still racing. "Why later?"
He met my gaze, his expression unreadable. "Because you need rest, Avaluna. What you have endured these past days is not something that can be fought on exhaustion and raw anger alone. Sleep. When you wake, we will prepare."
I opened my mouth to argue, but his next words were stern, brooking no argument.
"Go to your bedchamber and sleep."
For once, I listened.
I barely made it to the bed before exhaustion claimed me.
And as I drifted off, the prophecy still echoed in my mind, a cruel fate that had been written before I had even learned to walk.
Meanwhile, Salazar stood in the chamber, watching as I finally succumbed to sleep. His expression was unreadable, but a dark glint shone in his ancient green eyes.
"Now, Dumbledore," he murmured under his breath, turning toward the exit, "let's see what secrets you've been keeping."
And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the weight of what was to come.
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A/N:- I know many of you were expecting to see more fluff and romance between our main leads by now. As this is a fast-paced short story, I won't be able to include much fluff throughout, but rest assured, there will be some in the final chapter.
I also realize you might have been looking forward to reading more of their chemistry in the second chapter, but instead, you got a summary. However, the chapter did include their interactions, so that counts, right? 😊 Thank you for staying patient and for continuing with this journey. Please stay tuned—there's much more to come!