Chapter 47
The magic didn’t surge this time.
It rose.
Like a tide meeting its mirror. Like music finding its harmony.
The moment Draco’s fingers closed around mine, I felt it—not just his magic, but ours, responding to each other in a way that defied all logic I’d ever studied. Not clashing. Not opposing. Just… meeting.
Equal.
Solara let out a soft trill above us, her wings flaring wide as golden light shimmered down around the circle. But her glow didn’t push back Draco’s shadows—not like before. It twined with them. Wove through them. Like sunlight filtering through the canopy of a forest.
Tenebris didn’t vanish into the dark.
He stood in it, tall and solid, eyes glowing gold, his shadow spilling outward to meet Solara’s light. And she didn’t flee.
She descended.
Landed in front of him.
For a breathless second, everything went silent.
Even the castle seemed to hold its breath.
Then—movement.
Solara bowed her head. Just slightly.
Tenebris stepped forward.
And the moment their auras touched, something shifted.
My breath caught.
Golden light exploded outward from Solara’s wings, but it wasn’t the same as before—it shimmered with streaks of silver and smoke. At the same time, Tenebris’s shadow peeled from his form and spiraled around her like a ribbon, delicate and unthreatening.
They weren’t just acknowledging each other.
They were… merging?
No. Not fully.
But aligning.
Solara looked back at me, her eyes bright and wise in a way that made my throat tighten. I felt her in my chest, deep in my magic. Not alarmed. Not hesitant.
Certain.
Draco’s grip on my hand tightened. I looked at him—and felt it again.
That pull.
Like gravity.
But softer. Intentional.
I stepped closer.
Our feet crossed the line between light and dark etched into the floor, and something inside the chamber shifted.
The air warmed.
The shadows deepened.
A hum of balance pulsed through the stones beneath us.
Words flared to life in the air again—between us, not above or around.
One cannot command the balance.
One must become it.
Not by spell.
Not by wand.
But by bond.
I blinked.
Bond?
Draco’s brows furrowed. “I thought this was a spellbook. Not a bloody romantic prophecy.”
I choked on a laugh, startled, but I didn’t look away.
Because deep down, I knew what the book meant.
It wasn’t asking for affection. Not sentiment. Not some fairytale ending.
It was asking for something far more terrifying.
Trust.
Complete.
Unflinching.
Mutual.
“Are you ready for that?” I asked, voice quieter now. “To open yourself to something you can’t control?”
He didn’t answer right away.
But then his hand tightened on mine.
And he nodded.
Once.
Deliberate.
I stepped fully into the circle.
Draco followed.
And the moment we stood in the center together, the floor beneath us lit up—runes igniting one after another in a slow cascade of gold and shadow.
Above us, the air shimmered.
And then—
We saw it.
Two figures.
Ghostly outlines. One light, one dark. Mirror images of ourselves, standing just behind us, cast in magic. They weren’t solid. Not yet.
But they were becoming.
Our Eidolons, no longer animals. No longer just companions.
Reflections.
Solara’s form brightened, stretched. She grew—not in height, but in presence—her feathers lengthening, light arcing from her wings in quiet ribbons. Not a phoenix anymore. Something more. Something ancient.
Tenebris, too, shifted—his body lengthening, his shadow coalescing into a form both terrifying and beautiful. Like a knight carved from smoke and starlight.
They turned to each other.
And then to us.
And in that moment, I felt my magic expand.
Like something that had always been just beyond my reach had finally stepped into place.
Light, yes.
But tempered.
Clear.
I looked at Draco. His eyes were wide, stormy and still. But calm.
He looked back at me. And this time, he didn’t pull away.
The book closed behind us with a sound like a heartbeat.
The magic didn’t fade.
It settled.
Inside us.
Between us.
Within the castle itself.
And I knew, as the final rune dimmed beneath our feet, that the balance had been restored.
But not yet completed.
That would come with the others.
When they, too, faced what we had faced.
When the world stopped dividing magic by fear.
And started remembering its truth.
We weren’t done.
But we had taken the first step.
Together.
The silence after the magic settled was deafening.
No explosion. No dramatic wind. Just… stillness.
But I felt it—under my skin, in my bones, in the way Solara rested on my shoulder now, not just glowing but pulsing in sync with the slow rhythm of my magic. Everything had changed, and yet, the world outside the library still waited in quiet ignorance.
Draco didn’t speak. He was watching the spot where the last rune had faded beneath our feet, his expression unreadable. Tenebris lingered near him, his shadowed form more defined than ever. Almost human. Almost real.
I broke the silence first.
“We have to tell someone.”
His eyes snapped to mine, and I knew what he was thinking before he said it. “No.”
“It’s too big to hide,” I argued gently. “This isn’t just our magic anymore. We’re part of something older, something the castle itself responded to. If Hogwarts felt it, so did others.”
“Exactly,” he said sharply. “And if they did feel it, they’ll come looking for us. You think Potter won’t notice you suddenly glowing like a bloody Patronus every time I walk into a room?”
My mouth opened to protest—but then I caught sight of my own reflection in the nearby glass case. My eyes. They shimmered faintly, like they were catching light that wasn’t there.
Solara chirped softly. As if to say, Told you so.
“…Okay,” I muttered. “You might have a point.”
Draco gave a smug, tired half-smile. “I usually do.”
I ignored him. “But we still need to understand what this balance means. What happens next. If we’re… bonded—”
“Tempered,” he cut in. “Balanced, Granger. Let’s not make it sound like we’ve run off and eloped in the Forbidden Forest.”
I rolled my eyes, but heat rose to my cheeks. “You know what I meant.”
His smirk faded. “Yeah. I do.”
Another pause.
And then—quietly, reluctantly—he added, “It feels different now. Not wrong. Just… louder.”
I tilted my head. “Your magic?”
He nodded. “It used to burn. Now it pulls. Like it’s waiting for something.”
I looked down at the book again. The runes on the cover were gone, faded into leather as if they’d never existed. But the energy… the presence inside was still there. Dormant, maybe. Or resting.
“We should go back to the common room,” I said, glancing toward the doors. “Try to act normal. Let this settle.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “You do realize nothing about this is normal?”
“No,” I admitted, forcing a small smile. “But I have to pretend it is, or I’ll go mad.”
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he followed me out, both our shadows trailing longer than they should have, moving a little too deliberately in the torchlight. Solara glided silently above us. Tenebris stalked ahead, his form melting in and out of the walls.
And Hogwarts?
Hogwarts watched.
Every stone. Every step. I could feel it now, like I was touching the spine of a living thing, and it was waking up—slowly, cautiously—curious what we would do next.
As we reached the corridor that split toward Gryffindor Tower and the Slytherin dungeons, I hesitated.
Draco did too.
Neither of us said anything.
But we were both thinking it:
We weren’t done.
Not with each other.
Not with the balance.
Not with the magic stirring beneath our feet.
So I simply said, “Be careful.”
His gaze softened. “You too, Granger.”
And for the first time in days, he didn’t look like he was falling apart.
He looked like he’d stopped fighting himself.
Only when I turned toward the portrait hole did I feel the pull again—soft, magnetic, steady.
The bond.
I touched my palm where the warmth still lingered.
This was just the beginning.
And the light we needed to seek? I was starting to think it wasn’t hidden in a spell or a ruin or an artifact.
It was inside me.
Waiting to rise.