Chapter 38
Draco’s words lingered in the air between us, softer than the crackling of the torches, but heavier than the weight pressing against my chest.
Where do we start?
I swallowed, my pulse still racing from the magic thrumming in my veins. Solara’s talons dug into my shoulder, her glow pulsing unevenly, as if she too had been thrown off balance. The answer should have been simple. There should have been a book, a spell, a history I could reference. But nothing in the thousands of pages I had read—nothing in all the knowledge I had ever absorbed—had prepared me for this.
For magic that recognized us.
For the way the castle itself seemed to be waiting.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. I always had an answer. But this? This was beyond even me.
Draco exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He still looked on edge, too tightly coiled, like his magic was pressing outward, desperate for release. The shadows flickered around his feet again, stretching unnaturally before snapping back. He noticed it too. His jaw clenched.
“We need answers.” His voice was low, almost dangerous. “And if you think I’m letting you parade me in front of McGonagall or Potter for another round of interrogation, think again.”
I bristled, my irritation flaring for half a second before I caught the way his fingers twitched, as if his own magic was resisting him. He wasn’t just pushing me away.
He was pushing away the part of himself that had changed.
I forced myself to stay calm, to think logically. “No one else can know. Not yet,” I agreed, even though my instincts screamed that keeping secrets was dangerous. But I knew Draco. If I pushed too hard, too fast, he would bolt, bury it, pretend nothing was wrong. And that was the most dangerous outcome of all.
His eyes flicked to mine, startled for half a second that I wasn’t arguing. He gave a sharp nod. “Good.”
I exhaled, tightening my grip on my wand. “We need the library.”
Draco let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Of course we do.”
I rolled my eyes and turned sharply, leading the way through the dim corridors. The castle had settled, but I could still feel the echoes of whatever had woken up between us. The torches flickered slightly as we passed, the magic in the walls vibrating at the edges of my awareness.
Hogwarts knew.
It had always known.
A hush fell between us, but the air remained charged, thick with something unspoken. The castle itself felt different now—more than just stone and magic, more than just a fortress of learning and history. It was watching.
Waiting.
The torches dimmed slightly as if the castle were drawing in a slow breath, and for a brief moment, I thought I could hear it—a whisper just beyond the edge of comprehension, threading through the walls like an echo from another time. My skin prickled.
Draco shifted beside me, uneasy. His magic still crackled in the air, raw and untamed, curling at the edges of the torchlight like living shadows. He clenched his fists, as though sheer will alone could contain it.
“We need the library,” I said again, quieter this time, as if speaking too loudly might disturb whatever had just stirred within Hogwarts.
Draco gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable, and fell into step beside me. Neither of us spoke as we walked, but the silence wasn’t empty—it was filled with tension, with unanswered questions, with the lingering taste of something ancient pressing against our awareness.
The halls stretched long and quiet, the only sounds our soft footsteps against the stone. The castle, so often shifting and unpredictable, did not resist our path. It guided us.
A turn. A staircase. A corridor that should have led somewhere else but didn’t.
It led to the library.
The great doors loomed before us, their wood dark with age, the carvings in their surface worn from centuries of students pushing their way through in search of answers. My pulse quickened as I pressed my hand to the handle.
Magic thrummed beneath my fingers.
As if the castle wanted us to find what we were looking for.
I glanced at Draco. His expression was tight, but his storm-gray eyes flickered with something sharp, something just as unsettled as I was. He felt it too.
I pushed open the doors.
The library was dark and still, silent in the way that only ancient places of knowledge could be. The restricted section loomed like a shadowed secret in the back, locked behind spells and protections.
But we didn’t need books on dark magic.
We needed something older.
Something before dark and light had been divided into their separate schools of thought.
The library was dark and still, silent in the way that only ancient places of knowledge could be. The restricted section loomed like a shadowed secret in the back, locked behind spells and protections.
But we didn’t need books on dark magic.
We needed something older.
Something before dark and light had been divided into their separate schools of thought.
I led Draco past the usual sections, past the dusty tomes on curses and magical theory. My fingers traced along the shelves, searching for something more. Solara fluttered from my shoulder, hovering above the shelves, her glow pulsing brighter.
Then—she stopped.
She hovered near a row of books pushed farther back, hidden beneath layers of dust untouched by time.
“This,” I murmured, reaching forward.
Draco leaned over my shoulder, close enough that I could feel the unnatural chill rolling from his magic.
He hesitated. “What is it?”
I pulled out the book, brushing dust from the spine. The title had nearly faded away, but I could still make out the ancient script, written in a language that predated even Latin.
Equilibrium: The Forgotten Balance.
Draco inhaled sharply beside me.
“This,” I whispered, heart pounding, “is where we start.”