Truths Kept in Shadows
The next morning, the crisp November air filtered through the corridors of Hogwarts as Astoria made her way down toward the Great Hall for breakfast. The castle was alive with the early chatter of students, boots clicking against the cold stone floors as they moved about their routines. As she opened the door, she nearly bumps into Garreth and Leander.
"Good morning sunshine," Garreth greeted, his usual mischievous grin in place.
Leander nodded in greeting.
"Good morning Garreth. Leander." Astoria replied lightly.
Garreth lingered for a moment before adding, "I've got something for you later. I'll see you in Potions."
Astoria tilted her head slightly. "Alright, see you then."
As she continued on her way, Leander nudged Garreth with an amused smirk. "What's going on between you two?"
Garreth only chuckled, shaking his head. "Nothing at all, Prewett." But the grin on his face betrayed his good mood.
Astoria slid into her usual spot at the Slytherin table, the scent of warm pastries and spiced pumpkin juice wafting through the Great Hall. Across from her, Sebastian absently picked at his food, while Ominis sat with his nose buried in a book. Imelda, Nerida, and Grace chatted amongst themselves, but their conversation paused as Astoria sat down with a flourish.
"Good morning," she greeted cheerfully, pouring herself a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
Sebastian lifted his gaze, arching a brow. "You're in a good mood this morning."
Astoria took a bite of her treacle tart, her emerald eyes bright as she blinked at him. "Am I?"
Sebastian leaned back in his seat, studying her. "Had a nice day yesterday, did you?"
Astoria hummed affirmatively, taking a sip of tea.
His lips curled into a smirk, but there was a distinct sharpness in his tone. "Must’ve been riveting company, considering you look incredibly well-rested. Did he bore you to sleep?"
Astoria frowned, setting down her fork. "Sebastian."
"What?" He shrugged, utterly unapologetic. "Just making conversation."
She exhaled slowly. "For your information, I had a lovely time. Garreth was very nice."
Sebastian's jaw tensed, his grip tightening around his goblet. "Well, if he's so nice..."
Astoria shot him a sharp look. "What is your problem?"
Their voices had grown louder and by now, the entire table had fallen into wary silence. The tension was thick enough to slice with a dagger.
Imelda, clearly at the end of her patience, finally interjected.
"Alright, lovebirds, enough. Stop fighting, you’re ruining breakfast."
Astoria and Sebastian’s heads snapped toward her in unison.
"We're not fighting," they protested at the same time.
Imelda rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of toast. "Sure, sure. Now pass the marmalade and get a grip, would you?"
As Astoria packed her books away after Potions class, she turned to find Garreth standing behind her, hands tucked behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels.
"Hi." he greeted with a mischievous glint in his eye.
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Hi."
"I have something for you." He pulled a small package from behind his back, wrapped in simple brown parchment and tied with twine. "A little something to help with that part-lizard predicament of yours."
Astoria blinked, surprised, before accepting the parcel. She untied the twine, peeling back the paper to reveal a small vial of warm amber liquid alongside a neatly folded sage-green scarf, thick and incredibly soft to the touch.
"I brewed the sleeping draught I told you about—honey, moondew, and a pinch of valerian root. It should help you sleep better," Garreth explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "And the scarf—well, can't have you freezing in your own common room, can we?"
Astoria stared at the gifts, warmth blooming in her chest. It was such a simple thing, yet so deeply thoughtful.
"You remembered. This is lovely, thank you Garreth." she murmured.
"Course I did," Garreth said easily. "I'm an excellent listener, you know."
She glanced up at him, something unreadable in her gaze, before carefully tucking the vial away and draping the scarf around her neck. It was incredibly warm.
"Thank you, Garreth," she said softly.
He grinned. "Anytime."
As she left, fingers brushing the soft fabric at her collar, she couldn't help but smile to herself.
Garreth Weasley was full of surprises.
From across the classroom, Sebastian watched the exchange with a deepening scowl, his quill hovering motionless above his parchment. His stomach twisted unpleasantly.
Garreth was standing too close. Speaking too softly. And worst of all, he was making her smile like that.
Sebastian exhaled sharply through his nose, flicking his gaze back down to his unfinished notes. The words blurred together, meaningless. His jaw clenched. He wasn't sure what irritated him more—the fact that Weasley had remembered some offhand comment Astoria made about the cold, or that she looked so damn pleased about it.
Nice gesture, sure. But that didn't mean anything.
Did it?
Tapping his quill against the desk, Sebastian forced himself to focus, but his eyes kept straying back to Astoria, now making her way toward the door, fingers still idly brushing the scarf.
He had half a mind to burn the damn thing.
That afternoon, Astoria secluded herself in the Undercroft, pouring over Isidora's diary and Niamh's records. But no matter how many times she read the texts, there were no new clues—only fragmented memories, unanswered questions.
She was at a dead end.
Frustration gnawed at her. There had to be something she was missing.
There was only one place she could think of that could bring her answers.
Astoria stepped into the Map Chamber, the ethereal glow of the enchanted room illuminating the faces of the Keepers' portraits. Their expressions were unreadable, wary.
"I need answers," she said firmly. "There are missing pieces to this puzzle. Isidora's diary, Headmistress Fitzgerald's records—they all reference someone I have never heard of. Caen Dainforth."
Silence fell over the chamber.
"After everything, you still don't trust me?" she pressed. "I destroyed Ranrok. I destroyed the repository. I lost Professor Fig. And yet, you refuse to tell me the truth."
Professor Rackham's portrait sighed. "It is not about trust, Ms Blackwood. Some knowledge is better left buried."
Before he could refuse her outright, the chamber reacted.
A brilliant, blue light spread across the floor, illuminating a long-forgotten inscription in Ancient Magic. The words glowed faintly—unfinished, incomplete.
Then, as if pulled by an unseen force, a hidden mechanism clicked. A compartment in the chamber revealed itself, inside of which sat an old, metallic key.
Astoria reached for it, feeling the hum of Ancient Magic beneath her fingertips.
The Keepers looked as stunned as she did.
"Impossible," Fitzgerald murmured.
Rackham's face darkened. "It seems the past refuses to remain buried."
He turned to Astoria, resignation in his gaze. "It is time you learned the truth."
And so, the Keepers told her the story of Caen Dainforth—the Fifth Keeper.
Caen Dainforth had once been a respected Alchemy professor, a contemporary of Rackham, Fitzgerald, Rookwood, and San Bakar. But unlike them, he believed Ancient Magic should not be hidden, but harnessed. He dreamed of a future where all beings—wizard, goblin, Muggle—could wield magic freely, without restriction. A precarious thought.
He had been Isidora's mentor. He had encouraged her to push the limits of what Ancient Magic could do. He had convinced her that pain could be extracted, emotions transmuted into power. His vision was radical, dangerous.
And so, he was erased.
Headmistress Fitzgerald had taken extreme action, wiping his existence from history itself. Isidora had no memory of him. Neither did the other Keepers, until recently. Only remnants of his research remained, buried deep beneath the castle.
Astoria's mind spun with the weight of the revelation.
Then, the key in her palm pulsed with magic.
Her vision blurred, shifting. She felt herself pulled away—
She felt mind shifting back to the hidden mirrors again, winding through the tunnels. When she opened her eyes, she was back in Isidora's study beneath the castle again. She couldn't move, she was not herself. It is as if she had astral projected from her body, but it felt so real. Dust coated the air, and before her stood an old, locked compartment. Without thinking, she reached forward and slotted the key into place.
The mechanism whirred. The path ahead creaked open.
Then—
Astoria gasped, jolting awake, the cold stone of the Map Chamber pressing against her back. Her breath came in sharp pants as she stared up at the concerned faces of the Keepers.
She had found the way forward.
And she wasn't stopping now.