Chapter 40
The halls were quieter now. Not peaceful—never peaceful—but subdued. Like the castle was holding its breath. Like it, too, was waiting.
I moved quickly, wand in one hand, the ancient book clutched in the other. Solara’s glow lit the corridor just ahead of us, her wings tucked tightly to her back, her eyes locked forward. She was tense. So was I.
Draco walked beside me in silence. He hadn’t spoken since we left the library. But I could feel him. Not just his presence—his magic. It trailed behind him like a second shadow, less erratic than before but no less potent. It pulsed low in the air, reacting to the castle’s enchantments, brushing against my own in cautious rhythm.
It didn’t hurt.
Not anymore.
I glanced at him, and for a heartbeat, his eyes met mine. No sarcasm. No biting remark. Just… curiosity. Caution. And something else—something like a question he didn’t know how to ask.
We rounded the last corner and stopped in front of the painting of the fruit bowl.
The entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens.
I hesitated only briefly before reaching out and tickling the pear. It squirmed, giggled, and transformed into a brass doorknob. I pushed the door open.
Warm light spilled out.
But it didn’t feel warm.
Not entirely.
It should have. The kitchens were usually bright, filled with the comforting smells of bread and roasted meat, soft chatter from the house-elves drifting between clattering pots. But now?
It was too quiet.
Too still.
As if even the magic here was waiting.
We stepped inside.
The room stretched out before us, vast and gleaming. The enchanted stoves were dormant, the hearth embers long gone cold. No house-elves in sight. Not even the distant clatter of teacups or plates. It was unnatural.
I tightened my grip on the book.
Solara shifted on my shoulder, her light dimming slightly. Then she let out a soft trill and leapt into the air.
She flew forward, weaving low and slow through the kitchen’s long central aisle—then stopped, hovering just above the far stone wall.
My breath caught.
Because the stone was glowing.
Faint. Subtle. Barely perceptible to the naked eye.
But glowing.
Draco came to stand beside me. “You seeing this?”
I nodded, stepping closer. The wall in front of us wasn’t like the rest—it shimmered, just at the edges, like heat rising off pavement.
Magic.
Old magic.
I reached out, pressing my palm to the stone.
Nothing happened.
But the book in my other hand grew hot. I gasped, nearly dropping it—but Draco stepped forward, steadying it with one hand. His fingers brushed mine.
The second our magic touched, the wall flared to life.
A glowing rune burned across the stone surface, intricate and spiraling, the same half-light, half-dark symbol that had appeared in the book.
The symbol of Equilibrium.
We stared at it, breathless.
Then the stone began to shift.
The rune sank inward, the stone melting away in slow, deliberate circles until a small archway appeared, carved directly into the wall.
Beyond it, darkness.
Draco inhaled slowly. “Well,” he muttered. “That’s not foreboding at all.”
But I didn’t hesitate.
I stepped forward, book clutched to my chest, wand lit at my side. Draco followed, his footsteps echoing beside mine.
The tunnel was narrow at first, carved of old stone and buried enchantments, then widened into something older. Deeper. The air was cooler here—cool, but not cold. Like magic resting in the dark, waiting to be stirred.
Solara floated ahead of us, her light flickering slightly, as if straining to hold itself steady. We moved carefully, side by side, deeper into the unknown.
And then the path opened.
We stepped into a circular chamber.
The walls were etched with ancient runes, layered and interwoven like spells written in a language the world had forgotten. In the center stood a pedestal—smooth, white stone, faintly glowing.
And atop it—
A crystal.
Small.
Perfectly cut.
Radiating light.
Not heat. Not fire.
But pure magic.
My breath caught.
Solara hovered beside it, her wings spread wide, basking in the glow. The light pulsed brighter at her presence. At mine.
I took a step forward—and the book in my arms opened.
On its own.
Pages flipped rapidly until it landed on a page with no words.
Only a diagram.
A crystal.
A symbol of balance.
A hand reaching out.
Two forces meeting.
Darkness curling into light. Light holding darkness still.
Draco stepped beside me, staring down at the crystal.
“This is it,” I whispered. “This is the counterbalance.”
He was silent for a long moment. Then, slowly, he asked, “What do we do with it?”
I looked at him.
Really looked.
The tension in his shoulders. The war still waging inside his magic. The part of him that was trying to resist, and the part that already knew.
“We don’t take it,” I said softly.
His brow furrowed. “Then—”
“We touch it. Together.”
The air trembled.
Magic surged between us.
And I extended my hand.
Waiting.
He stared at it.
Then, slowly—almost reverently—he reached out. His fingers slid over mine.
And we touched the light.
Together.
The world shifted.
The light exploded around us.
Not violently—there was no heat, no sound, no rush of air. It wasn’t like any magic I had ever felt before. It didn’t tear through me. It opened me.
My breath hitched as warmth flooded my veins, not fire but light, gentle and radiant, wrapping around the edges of my magic like silk weaving itself through something frayed and coming undone. Solara cried out softly, a bell-like trill that echoed through the chamber, and I felt her magic pulse against mine—glowing brighter, steadier.
Draco gripped my hand.
Tight.
But not out of fear.
Out of necessity.
His magic surged in response to the crystal, wild and raw at first—but then it caught. It settled. The shadows that had always curled around him like a second skin bent inward, no longer trying to fight the light but responding to it.
Balancing it.
A brilliant pulse of energy spiraled from the crystal, running down our joined hands, coiling through our arms, our chests, our ribs. I gasped as I felt it sink into my bones. The chamber lit up, the runes across the walls shimmering gold and silver, black and white, a language neither of us spoke but somehow still understood.
Draco’s breath caught beside me. I turned my head just enough to see his eyes—wide, silver bright and dilated, reflecting the light pouring through the room.
And then the crystal dimmed.
Not completely—but enough that we could see each other clearly again.
The glow had sunk into us.
Not clinging to our skin.
In us.
I stumbled back a step, releasing his hand. My own trembled, faint traces of light still flickering between my fingers like the magic didn’t want to leave just yet. I stared down at my palm, then at the crystal. The runes on the wall had gone still again, resting.
But something inside me had shifted.
Something inside both of us.
Draco stepped back as well, his face unreadable. He looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly. “It’s… different,” he murmured.
I nodded, my throat too tight for words. Solara returned to my shoulder, her glow steadier now—stronger. She nuzzled into my jaw like she was proud, like she had known this moment was coming all along.
“I don’t feel it pulling anymore,” he said after a moment. “The darkness. It’s still there, but it’s… quiet.”
I swallowed hard. “Because it doesn’t have to fight.”
He looked at me sharply.
I met his gaze.
“It’s not trying to consume you, Draco. It was never supposed to. It was looking for balance. It was looking for this.”
He didn’t answer, but I saw the way his shoulders dropped, just slightly. The tension eased—not gone, not completely—but loosened. Like he could breathe again.
I glanced at the book in my hand, the pages still open to the diagram, the crystal still glowing softly on the pedestal.
A soft whisper pressed against my thoughts—not a voice, not words, but knowing.
This wasn’t the end.
This was a key.
A doorway.
A beginning.
I turned toward Draco again, heart still pounding.
“This magic… it’s not just about us. It’s about what comes next. The world is out of balance, and it’s trying to right itself.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the crystal.
“And we’re the ones who can do it.”
Draco’s voice was quiet. “Together.”
The word hung between us like a promise.
And I felt it settle into my chest, steady and true.
We weren’t just partners now.
We were the balance.
And the world was waiting.