Chapter 27
Hogwarts loomed ahead, its towering spires reaching into the overcast sky, the same as I had always remembered it. And yet, it felt different. Maybe because I was different. Maybe because this place wasn’t just a school anymore—it was a battlefield of memories, a past I hadn’t fully reckoned with.
The cold stone beneath my boots was too familiar, the distant echo of voices in the corridors too much like ghosts from another life.
I clenched my fists at my sides, resisting the urge to turn around and leave.
Hermione walked beside me, Solara perched gracefully on her shoulder, radiating warmth like a small sun against the cold Scottish air. She seemed… steady. Unshaken. Determined in that way only she could be.
Tenebris was a shadow at my side, prowling silently, his golden eyes flickering in the dim torchlight as we passed through the entrance hall. I could feel the others watching—students, professors, even the damn portraits—curious, wary. Malfoys didn’t return to Hogwarts. Not after the war. Not after everything.
But here I was.
The Great Hall was as grand as ever, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the stormy sky outside. The moment we stepped in, heads turned. The murmur of conversation dipped. I ignored it. Ignored them.
But then—
“Oi, Malfoy.”
I tensed at the voice before I even turned.
Harry bloody Potter.
He stood by one of the long tables, arms crossed, flanked by Ron and Ginny Weasley. The last time I had seen the three of them together, I had been dodging curses in the middle of a war.
“Potter,” I said, keeping my tone level.
He eyed me warily, then nodded toward Hermione. “Hermione told us what’s happening. We want to help.”
I flicked my gaze to Hermione, who clearly hadn’t mentioned this little reunion.
Of course.
Of course Potter and his merry band of Gryffindors wanted to play heroes.
Ron crossed his arms, his sharp blue eyes raking over me with the same skepticism I had known for years. “Kingsley thinks you two might be the key to stopping the Revenants. He thinks your… bond”—he wrinkled his nose at the word—“is the answer.”
Ginny snorted, eyeing Tenebris like she wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or wary. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think? Even for you, Malfoy.”
My jaw tightened.
“Didn’t realize I was expected to entertain the Golden Trio,” I muttered.
Ron scoffed. “We didn’t come to be entertained, Malfoy.”
“I suppose you came to supervise, then?”
Harry took a step forward, pinning me with a look that was far too calm. “We came to make sure this war doesn’t get worse.”
Something twisted in my chest.
War.
That was what this was.
Again.
I had barely survived the last one.
My fingers twitched at my sides. Old habits—old instincts. I had spent too many years standing on the wrong side of things, waiting for the next order, waiting to be used. And now?
Now, they were looking at me like I had something to prove.
Maybe I did.
I swallowed the sharp retort I wanted to make and exhaled slowly instead.
“I don’t need your approval,” I said coolly.
“Good,” Potter replied evenly. “Because we’re not offering it. We’re offering help.”
I blinked.
I was still wrapping my head around the fact that I was standing here—back at Hogwarts, of all places—about to work with Potter, Weasley, and Weasley. But before I could muster another biting remark, something caught my attention.
Something that made my chest tighten.
Their Eidolons.
They weren’t just standing there as three wizards from my past—they each had something at their side, something unmistakably theirs.
I had expected Hermione’s little Gryffindor friends to have them, of course—everyone was gaining Eidolons these days—but I hadn’t actually seen them until now.
Potter’s was a stag.
Of course it was.
The creature stood tall beside him, shimmering silver with eyes that seemed to glow with something almost human. It was regal, proud, and completely still except for the occasional flick of its ears. But it wasn’t the same as his Patronus. No, this wasn’t some half-formed thing made of light. It was real, solid, and deeply connected to him in a way I could feel just by looking at it.
The moment I met its gaze, something passed between us. Something unspoken.
Recognition.
The stag knew me.
Knew who I had been.
And yet, it didn’t move to attack. Didn’t step between us.
Just watched.
Judging.
Fine. Let him judge.
Ron’s was a massive wolf.
Larger than a normal one—its coat russet, dark along the spine, almost burnished in the candlelight. It moved with that same natural ease Weasley always had, prowling slightly in front of him as if keeping an eye on everything at once.
Its golden-brown eyes locked onto me, sharp and assessing, and I fought the instinct to tense.
Loyal. Protective.
Of course Weasley would have something like that at his side.
Ginny’s, however…
Hers was the most unexpected.
A griffin.
Not a full-sized one—this wasn’t some massive beast the size of a dragon—but sleek, compact, powerful.
Its lion’s body was covered in soft, burnished fur, but its wings—its wings were massive, dark red-tipped with streaks of gold. It was draped lazily over a nearby bench, its talons tapping absently against the wood as if this entire encounter bored it.
I knew better.
It was watching.
Waiting.
Ginny smirked when she caught me staring. “What? Expecting a little songbird instead?”
I scoffed. “No. Just surprised it lets you boss it around.”
Her smirk widened. “Oh, Malfoy. You still don’t get it, do you?” She reached down, scratching the griffin’s feathers absently, and the creature purred. “Eidolons aren’t things you ‘boss around.’ They just… are.”
Her words made something stir in my chest.
Because she was right.
Tenebris prowled silently beside me, a coiled, living shadow. He didn’t obey me. He didn’t submit.
He was me.
Just as Solara was Hermione.
Just as that damn stag was Potter.
Just as the wolf and griffin were Weasley and Weasley.
This wasn’t just about magic manifesting in new ways.
This was who we were.
And that meant whoever was trying to sever Eidolon bonds wasn’t just taking magic.
They were stealing identities.
Stealing souls.
My throat felt tight, my hands clenched into fists.
Potter must have noticed, because he exhaled sharply and said, “Now you understand.”
I looked at him.
And—for the first time since this mess started—I truly did.
This wasn’t just about stopping the Revenants.
This was about making sure no one else lost a piece of themselves.
I let out a slow breath, shifting my stance.
Ron still looked skeptical, but Ginny just huffed, shifting her weight. “Listen, Malfoy. No one’s asking you to hold hands and sing songs with us. But you’re not the only one who wants to stop these bastards. So, you can either take the help, or you can act like a stubborn prat about it. Your choice.”
I snorted despite myself.
At least some things never changed.
Hermione sighed beside me, giving me that look—the one that said she expected me to behave.
Like I was a stray cat she was determined to tame.
I ran a hand through my hair, resisting the urge to curse, and gritted my teeth.
I didn’t need Potter.
I didn’t need any of them.
But I needed to fix this.
I needed to do something right.
I met Potter’s gaze and gave a sharp nod.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s get to work.”