PROLOGUE

The darkness in that cell became increasingly suffocating with each passing day. It was as if the walls closed in around him, encasing him in shadows. The cold seeped through his tattered clothes, reaching deep into his bones.

But that wasn't the worst part. It wasn't the cold; it wasn't the darkness. It wasn't the feeling of being physically trapped with only a small sliver of light connecting him to the outside world.

No, the worst part was him. The Dark One. The Dark Lord. Every night, after the sun had set and the golden thread of light that seeped into that cell faded into darkness, he heard the sound of bare feet in the distance and the hissing sound of his usual companion, slithering across the floor of that basement.

When that door opened, illuminating his face with just the light of his wand, he could observe him for a few moments. His snake-like eyes and nose, his grayish skin, and his intriguing smile. Often, he didn't speak; he simply attempted to enter his mind. He delved deep and attacked, searching for that memory he so desperately needed. He did it amid torments, crawling through his memories, poisoning his mind. He subjected him to agonizing torture, leaving him exhausted every night. But he never got what he wanted. He had managed to resist, for now.

But that night was different. He didn't raise his wand as soon as he saw him. He remained silent, staring at him for a few seconds with disdain.

"Very well, Professor Kirke," the dark figure whispered. "Tonight, we'll try something different."

Digory felt his body suddenly levitate, and before he knew it, he was being dragged out of the cell. The Dark Lord didn't even look at him during the entire journey. They ascended a set of stairs illuminated by a few torches, and they traversed the old yet majestic house. The professor could barely keep his eyes open. The lights blinded him, and fatigue hindered his movements, although he wouldn't have been able to move due to the enchantment that surrounded him. He closed his eyes but made an effort to stay conscious. He mustn't fear; he must trust. He mustn't fall into his traps.

Minutes later, without warning, he fell abruptly onto the marble floor. He opened his eyes in pain to find Bellatrix Lestrange standing before him, laughing at the sight of the elderly man sprawled on the ground.

"Good evening, Professor," she said with a sarcastic smirk. "You have a visitor."

Voldemort smiled and looked towards a row of Death Eaters waiting in line on one side of the room. Two of them waved their wands, opening the doors behind them, revealing a corridor where several more Death Eaters held a woman with long white hair.

"Release me, you cowards!" the woman shouted as she struggled. "Give me back my wand! Cowards!"

Professor Digory shuddered on the ground as he recognized that voice. He clumsily got up, reacting to the familiar voice in a way that caused him great pain throughout his body.

"Kirke...?" the woman said, her bold tone turning into an anguished sigh.

"Polly!" Digory turned with a quivering voice.

The woman rushed into his arms, holding onto him tightly. Polly was taken aback by how thin her companion had become, and he sensed from her scent that she had been captured recently.

"Monsters!" the woman shouted amid the laughter of her captors.

"Aurora Plummer," Voldemort said. "Please, show some decorum."

Voldemort aimed his wand directly at Polly's head, touching the tip of her silver hair. The professor jumped, using the last of his strength, to shield the woman with his emaciated body.

"Oh, come on, come on," Voldemort said with dripping sarcasm. "No need to be dramatic. After all, it's you who will kill her..."

The professor's eyes filled with terror as he lifted his head to look at his captor.

"What...?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Come on, Professor Kirke," Voldemort hissed. "You know I can't force you to tell me what I want to know, but I can force you to kill her..."

"Never!" the professor exclaimed, holding onto Polly even tighter.

"Imperio!"

The Unforgivable Curse struck Digory's head almost instantly. The elderly man felt his mind become muddled, losing focus. Polly was still there, and so were the Death Eaters, but they didn't seem to matter as much.

"Kill her," a clear but distant voice said as someone approached and extended a wand to him. The professor raised his wand, not noticing the fatigue in his body, while he sensed that someone was giving him an order.

He pointed his wand directly at Polly's face. Any feelings he had towards her seemed distant, out of his mind. There was only that voice and its command.

He met her eyes, which were filled with determination, and suddenly he saw it. The fierceness of a lion in her gaze. But not just any lion. No, he knew that look better than Polly's. He heard a roar, above the voice whispering to him. And in an instant, Polly became Polly Plummer once again, the woman he had secretly loved since they were children.

"No," he said firmly.

The Dark Lord barely had time to react before Digory raised his wand to his own head, to the astonishment of everyone present, and shouted, "Obliviate!"

While Voldemort's scream filled the room, a luminous thread emerged from the professor's head, disappearing into the darkness of the hall. Polly smiled proudly for a moment.

"I didn't want to kill him, Professor Diggory," the Dark Lord said with false courtesy. "Pureblood, a Slytherin... such a waste. She could have died, yes. I was willing. Her tainted blood. Her false bravery. A mudblood Gryffindor, a Muggle. But you forced my hand, Digory, and everyone is a witness..."

Digory didn't even bother to look at him as he directed those insults at him. For a moment, he simply felt like young Digory, looking at none other than the incomparable Polly Plummer. And he said with a firm whisper, "I love you, Polly, always have."

Polly smiled deeply for a moment before turning to gaze in horror at Voldemort's wand raised in the direction of her childhood friend.

What happened next was very fast. The window behind the Dark Lord shattered instantly as three figures on broomsticks descended into the room in one leap. Voldemort's gaze locked with rage on one of them, a vigorous man with a magnetic presence, his blond hair tousled by the abrupt entrance, falling disorderly over his forehead.

Despite the chaos surrounding the scene, his blue eyes shone with determination as he cast a spell towards the greatest fear of the magical world.

Voldemort quickly dodged it with a protective spell, but it caused a rebound effect that struck the corner of the room, where several of his Death Eaters were sent flying, collapsing to the ground. The intense and determined gaze of the Order member remained fixed on the Dark Lord. With agile and confident movements, he positioned himself strategically between his enemy and Professor Digory and Polly Plummer, in a protective gesture.

"It seems two blood traitors will die today," Voldemort said with a sneer.

"I may die someday, but I'll make sure it's not today, Tom," the man replied, his smile filled with determination.

The battle between them erupted ferociously in the hall, as they engaged in a duel of spells. Their wands clashed forcefully, sending sparks and flashes of magic in all directions. Voldemort fought with great power, but the man displayed exceptional skill, at times matching the power of his aggressor.

Meanwhile, the other two figures faced the Death Eaters with dexterity, using defensive spells primarily to approach Polly and the professor, who remained embraced in the middle of the room. It was a fierce battle, but none of them backed down for an instant.

After several attempts, the Dark Lord managed to make the Order member slip when he dodged one of his spells. He had him; he would die by his hands.

"Avada...!"

"Expulso!"

The Dark Lord was thrown several meters backward, colliding with the remains of the broken glass. He looked up with fury in the direction of his new aggressor, finding the emaciated Professor Digory looking at him defiantly. He smiled slightly at Polly's admiration while several Death Eaters pointed their wands at him.

In those conditions, the man couldn't defend himself against the green flashes that erupted from Voldemort's wand and his followers. Digory used his last bit of strength to push Polly to the ground, making her dodge all those attacks.

Seven green flashes struck him before his body collapsed onto the cold floor.

Polly's heart-wrenching scream echoed among the columns of the room, causing a moment of silence seconds later. She grasped the professor's face with her hands, crying out with nearly incomprehensible sounds, begging him not to leave her. She shook her head in denial as Voldemort and his followers laughed.

"I love you too, Digory, always have," she whispered, her voice changing from sadness to sweetness and from sweetness to the most terrifying rage in the time it took her to utter those words. With a much faster movement than one would expect from a woman of her age, she grabbed the wand that still lay in the professor's hands and, with a scream, waved it upward, unleashing a surge of power that sent those present flying into the air, while the foundations of the mansion trembled from the earthquake caused by the force of that spell.

The Dark Lord observed from the ground as the woman got up, pointing her wand in different directions, tears in her eyes, knocking down anyone who moved around her. He didn't have time to react. Behind him, the members of the Order of the Phoenix grabbed the lifeless body of the professor and lifted Polly onto a broomstick, carrying her in their arms as she screamed in desperation and rage.

He directed several spells at the broomsticks, but the riders skilfully evaded them. He tried to chase them, flying through the air with his dark magic, but it was too late. As soon as they reached the edge of the grounds, they disappeared from his view with a snap.

Many miles away from that place, unbeknownst to him, the Boy Who Lived awoke in a cold sweat, his forehead burning, feeling all his anger within him, with the images of that night etched into his memories.

CHAPTER 1

Our story begins as the Pevensie family walked through the gates of Kings Cross station on September 1st, 1996, amidst the usual hustle and bustle and the excitement that comes with the start of the school year.

"Come on, kids, or we'll be late," Mrs. Pevensie insisted with a slight note of urgency in her voice as she struggled to help her daughter Susan stow her heavy trunk on the trolley.

"Don't worry, Helen, we have plenty of time," her husband replied, his usual cheerfulness shining through.

Peter turned with a half-smile to look at his father, who displayed an expression of great joy as they approached platform 9. It was evident at once how much Robert Pevensie had enjoyed his time at Hogwarts, and being the naturally empathetic man he was, he felt deep happiness that his children could return, year after year, to the castle that had meant so much to him. His face radiated sincere joy, which filled his son with immense admiration.

Robert noticed his son's gaze fixed on him and affectionately ran his hand through his eldest son's hair, tousling it slightly and eliciting another smile from Peter. Once again, Peter realized how much he would miss his father.

"Time to cross!" Helen Pevensie exclaimed joyfully.

"Mom, there's no need for all the Muggles at the station to find out," Edmund teased.

"Come on, you go first," Helen said, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Peter watched his brother gather momentum and speed across the platform's column. Then Helen grabbed Lucy's trolley, and they crossed together, followed by Susan. Robert turned to look at his son with a smile, intrigued.

"Everything okay, Pete?" he asked. "I think someone needs to talk."

"It's nothing, Dad," his son replied, trying to hide his emotions. "Just nerves."

"Hey..." his father said as they crossed through the column together. "I'm sorry we had to move around so much these past few years."

As they crossed to platform 9¾, they both paused for a moment to gaze at the scarlet locomotive and the commotion surrounding it. Farewell hugs, reunions, laughter, and the occasional tear blended into a warm chaos. Peter couldn't help but smile at the scene.

"It's alright, Dad, really," the boy said understandingly. "It's part of your job. I'm just frustrated about the year I lost with all the transfers—Beauxbatons, then Ilvermorny..."

Robert sighed with regret but tried not to lose his optimistic spirit. He felt guilty for having to keep his children away from that magical school for two years. He knew they struggled to understand it, but he had a more than justified reason. Sometimes, he wished he could tell them the whole truth, but they were still too young.

"Hey, champ," he said, giving his son a light shoulder pat. "You know I'm proud of you, right?"

"Why am I the only one of your kids in Gryffindor?" Peter asked, laughing.

"Well..." Robert said, draping his arm over his son's shoulder. "Maybe... just a little... it's possible..."

Peter burst into laughter and looked at his father, regaining his smile.

"You've taken care of your siblings all this time, you have a generous heart, son," Robert said. "Plus, your mother is thrilled to be almost the first person to achieve top marks in her O.W.L.s remotely, and the first with such great results."

"You don't care that much about that, though," Peter joked.

"Yeah, well, it's important, but you have to be a Ravenclaw like your mother to get that excited about it," he said with a laugh. "This is going to be your year, Peter, you'll see."

"I hope so," Peter said, not entirely convinced.

"You have to promise me," his father said. "I know you'll take care of your siblings, but try to enjoy it for yourself. In these times, with Voldemort and all, I know you've been worried about them, but Hogwarts..."

"It's the safest place," Peter said.

"Exactly!" Robert said, giving his son a gentle tap on the chin. "Now promise me this will be your year."

"I promise," Peter said, rolling his eyes but not losing his smile.

They both arrived at one of the train doors, where his mother and the rest of his siblings were deeply engrossed in their lengthy and emotional farewell process. Helen Pevensie squeezed Lucy and Susan tightly, murmuring words and advice incessantly, never leaving their side for a single moment. A few meters away, Edmund engaged in lively conversation with some of his Slytherin friends he had encountered on the platform. Peter could see the piercing eyes of Astoria Greengrass briefly fix on him before she turned back to the group to laugh at a joke made by her sister Daphne.

Peter shifted his gaze, pretending to search for something on his trunk, pursing his lips, and then turned back to his family, feeling a wave of gratitude for having them all in his life. Despite the challenges and relocations, they were his anchor. When his mother finally released her daughters to board the train, Peter approached her and hugged her tightly.

"I'm going to miss you, Mom," he whispered in her ear.

Helen squeezed him as tightly as she could and kissed her son on the forehead before cupping his face in her hands.

"We'll see each other during Christmas break, sweetheart," she said gently before pointing her finger at him in a threatening manner. "Don't forget to write us letters!"

Peter nodded, laughing, and hugged his mother tightly again. He turned once more and waited for Edmund to finish saying goodbye to Robert so he could make one final dash into his father's arms. They embraced for a few seconds without saying a word. They parted with warm smiles before boarding the train.

Peter turned his head one last time to see them embracing each other, talking cheerfully. Maybe one day he would learn to love someone as much as his father did. Peter often got distracted by many other things, but deep down, all he wanted was the scene he was observing from the train door.

He walked down the train aisle, trying to find an empty compartment. There was no sign of his siblings. He figured they had already met up with some friends and boarded the train with them while he said goodbye to his mother.

Peter continued down the aisle as the train whistle announced the imminent departure of the Hogwarts Express. For a moment, he felt terribly alone. He had spent the entire summer surrounded by his family, and at Ilvermorny, they were inseparable. But now they were back at school, each with their friends, and he was alone in that compartment.

He didn't consider himself antisocial, but in his early years, Peter had barely formed any close relationships with any of the students who were now in their seventh year. He got along with everyone and was always in good company, but he hadn't formed many deep connections. Since second year, there had been times when he felt so grown-up and terribly alone. And the worst part was that he couldn't explain it to anyone. No one would believe him, no one would understand.

He had only made one real friend, Cormac McLaggen, before leaving for Beauxbatons. They became friends on the first day, at the Gryffindor table, right after they were sorted, but Susan had warned him about Cormac's changing behavior in the last two years, which explained perfectly why he had stopped responding to his letters.

There was one more person, of course, someone he had connected with a few days during his fourth year. They had crossed paths several times in the library, and Peter had felt the need to talk more with her. Something about that third-year student had captivated him. He occasionally walked her back to the common room. It wasn't a large number of times, but those were the moments when he felt truly heard within those walls.

But he didn't want to think about that; it had taken him long enough to move on from Hermione Granger. He had endured too many jokes from Edmund and Susan on the subject. She probably didn't even remember those conversations.

The train started moving slowly, and he continued down the aisle, looking for a familiar face, but there was no luck. He watched groups of friends through the windows, laughing and sharing summer stories. However, the atmosphere felt gloomier than the last time he had boarded that train, and he knew exactly why.

"They still don't know what happened to him," a Ravenclaw student murmured, glancing at the rest of her classmates.

Peter looked at Ollivanders' picture on the yellowed front page of "The Daily Prophet" through the window. Just during that summer, Fudge had left his position at the Ministry and had been replaced as Minister of Magic by Rufus Scrimgeour. The wizarding world was on the brink of the Second Wizarding War; some even said it had already begun: the fall of the Brockdale Bridge, the deaths of Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance...

It was no secret; the wizarding world was on the edge of the abyss. His father had spent the entire summer in contact with the Order, often meeting at the Burrow. And sometimes, even at their home. They were forbidden to listen to what was discussed at those meetings, but Peter could sense it: the somber tone, the nervousness, the shouting, the arguments. It hung in the air.

He continued down the aisle until he found an miraculously empty compartment. He decided to sit there instead of continuing to search for someone to share the journey with. He placed his luggage on the overhead rack and took his Muggle book, "The Fellowship of the Ring," out of his backpack, settling into one of the seats and leaning slightly against the window.

The hours passed fairly quickly, and Peter became engrossed in those pages that reminded him so much of places he missed dearly. For a while, he put aside the darkness that loomed over his world. The sense of impending danger that haunted him dissipated, and he enjoyed the sound of the train's rhythmic clatter in his ears. It was already dusk when the compartment door suddenly swung open.

"Peter?" a female voice inquired with intrigue.

The eldest Pevensie raised his head to see two figures leaning in the doorway. The smiling face of Hannah Abbott was the first to capture his attention when her bluish-green eyes met his. Behind her, Ernie McMillan, with his blonde hair sticking up at the crown with enthusiasm.

"Peter?" the Hufflepuff asked.

"The one and only," Peter replied in return.

"By Merlin's beard!" Hannah exclaimed. "You've changed so much!"

Peter sat up slightly, moving his legs off the seat as the two Hufflepuffs sat in front of him.

"We haven't seen you since you saved us from that McGonagall lecture in fourth year," Ernie said.

The Gryffindor laughed, recalling the scene. It had happened during a Transfiguration class. They had been trying to change the hair color of one of their fellow students, Justin Finch-Fletchley, from brown to blond, but they ended up turning it a shade of pink that occasionally sparkled with blue.

"That spell was meant to change the colors of objects, like the carpet they gave us to practice on..." Peter reminisced with a chuckle.

"I don't know why I listened to him," Hannah said. "It was the first time I almost got into trouble."

"But he saved us," Ernie said, pointing at Peter. "One wave of Pevensie's wand, and the problem was solved."

Peter smiled, somewhat uncomfortable with all the attention he was getting but pleased to know that someone held such fond memories of him.

"Tell us about Ilvermorny!" Hannah exclaimed, excited. "What's it like?"

Peter put his novel down on the seat and settled back, beginning to recount his adventures in the United States and France, including the summer in Spain in between. Of course, he omitted the part he was accustomed to hiding. That secret that only Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and he knew.

Hours later, the castle began to emerge among the mountains. Peter had almost forgotten how majestic it was. The golden light emanating from its windows, the towering turrets rising from the rock, reflecting in the lake's waters, which shimmered silver in the moonlight. Suddenly, he felt an immense peace. He had forgotten, amidst all his travels, how that place could feel like home. There was something about those walls that could embrace the loneliest soul. In the back of his mind, he remembered the words of his headmaster, echoing in his ears: "At Hogwarts, help will always be given to those who ask for it."

He looked at the two Hufflepuffs sharing the compartment with him. Both were gazing at the castle, smiling as if it were their first time. And then he thought that maybe his father was right. This could be his year. Perhaps he should stop looking at this place as that boy who felt different from his peers and see it with new eyes. Perhaps it was time to break out of his shell. The world outside was growing darker every day, and maybe what he needed to do was fill it with light.

"It's still amazing, isn't it?" he said, looking out the window again.

"It's never stopped being amazing," Hannah replied with a smile.

Peter leaned his head against the backrest and stared at Hogwarts once more, wearing a new smile on his face. Even though he knew the darkness looming over his world, he wasn't yet aware of how close it was. He didn't yet know how pivotal his role in this story would be. But Peter Pevensie didn't need to know the whole truth; he was always ready to fight.

Hogsmeade station welcomed the Hogwarts students amid the usual commotion. Susan disembarked from the prefects' carriage and gazed at the lights of the village on the hill with a faint smile before turning to look at the gigantic castle she would once again call home.

A sense of peace washed over her for the first time in weeks. She pictured herself safe, reading a book, curled up in a corner of Ravenclaw common room. She almost looked forward to winter when she could move the armchair closer to one of the fireplaces and read while the rain splattered against the windows.

However, that sense of peace vanished in an instant. The silhouette of those towers rising above the hill brought back memories that filled her heart with nostalgia. Memories from years ago flooded her mind. The boy with wavy brown hair, his yellow scarf wrapped around his neck, leaning against the wall, looking at her with that enchanting smile...

"You dropped this," a calm voice beside her said.

Susan turned around abruptly. Beside her stood a Gryffindor who seemed oddly familiar, though she couldn't remember why. He had reddish hair, but not like the Weasleys, darker, almost black. In his hands, he held the book Susan had been reading during part of the journey.

"Sorry, I'm quite clumsy," she said, taking her book from the boy's hands.

"No need to apologize," he replied with a smile.

"Well, thank you then," Susan said shyly.

"You're welcome, Pevensie," he said.

"Forgive me; I don't remember your name," she said under her breath but sweetly.

"Don't worry about it. I knew who you were," he replied with a smile. "I'm Henry, Henry Davies."

Susan opened her mouth in surprise while clutching her book to her chest.

"Roger's brother?" she asked. "My, you've grown..."

"It tends to happen, Pevensie," he said. "People grow in two years. You've changed quite a bit too."

"Well, um, thanks," Susan said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers.

"I meant you look really beautiful," the Gryffindor said, scratching his head. "It's understandable if you don't remember me; I don't think we've ever talked..."

"Hey, Davies!" a boy shouted from the other side of the platform.

Susan turned to see a group of Gryffindors from her year calling out to Henry. He waved to them and then looked back at her with a smile. She responded with an awkward but cheerful grimace.

"Sorry, I have to go... it was nice meeting you," the young man said, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "See you in class."

"See you in class," the Ravenclaw replied as the boy walked away from her.

She took a deep breath and watched him leave the station amidst the cheers and laughter of his peers. Trying to clear her mind of that encounter, she opened her backpack and carefully stowed the book inside. She began to walk along the platform in search of some of her Ravenclaw classmates.

Luck was not on her side. She walked alone for several minutes, following the path to the carriages. She stopped to observe the Thestrals, a jumble of emotions running through her. She remembered the first time she had seen them. Images of battles filled her memory as one of the creatures leaned down to look her in the eyes. Few could see them, and many of those who could feared them. But not her. She found solace in those creatures. Misunderstood, forever forced to feel the fear or indifference of those around them.

"Fascinating creatures, aren't they?" a cold voice said behind her. "Don't you think so, Pevensie?"

Susan recognized that voice instantly. It sounded more mature and masculine than the last time she had heard it, but she remembered that air of superiority that saturated every syllable.

"Certainly, Malfoy," she replied.

"Well, we all enjoy a good mystery," he said, looking her up and down while Susan avoided turning around.

"Not when they turn out to be predictable," she said uncomfortably as she boarded the carriage.

The girl stumbled slightly due to haste. Just as she was about to fall, a hand grabbed hers, catching her by surprise. She felt the cold touch of the Slytherin and quickly withdrew her arm, feeling uneasy.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked.

"Getting on the carriage, if it's not too much trouble. Or are you already with someone?" he asked sardonically.

"No, I'm alone..." she replied through gritted teeth.

"Then we're two," he said, maintaining his dry expression but raising his eyebrows slightly.

The Slytherin sat in the carriage in front of her and gave her a strange smile. Susan chose to ignore him, praying that he wouldn't bother her again.

"Missing someone?" he said again in a twisted tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied as her heart skipped a beat.

"Come on, Pevensie," he said. "Don't play games; we both know what I saw that day in front of the kitchens."

The image briefly flashed through Susan's mind as anger overtook her.

"I advise you to stop, Malfoy," she said as the carriage started moving.

"Come on, Pevensie," he said. "I just wanted to know how you felt about Cedric's death..."

"I said shut up!" the girl exclaimed, raising her oak wand.

"Fine, fine," he said, sounding calmer. "Believe it or not, I just wanted to help."

"Definitely hard to believe," she said, lowering her wand.

They spent the rest of the journey in tense silence, never once looking at each other. The night grew colder around them, and the night air filled Susan's lungs. She didn't want to cry; she wouldn't give Draco Malfoy that satisfaction. The Slytherin knew how to torment his peers, but she wouldn't be intimidated.

The carriage came to a sudden halt in front of the castle's entrance, and Susan hurriedly grabbed the door handle. But Draco's arm was faster.

"Do you mind?" she said in a threatening tone.

The boy looked into her eyes for a few seconds as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small dark blue vial, and handed it to her.

"What's this?" she said coldly.

"Don't worry," the Slytherin replied without losing his composure. "It's a sleeping potion."

"Why would I want it?" she asked.

"I assumed you weren't sleeping well," he said. "It works for me on the worst nights."

"Thank you, but no," she said.

"As you wish, it's a gift," he said, placing the vial on a seat.

In just a second, the boy descended the carriage steps and disappeared into the crowd. Susan stared at the vial, intrigued. She waved her wand over it to check for anything dangerous by touch. It was clean, and its contents matched what the wizard had claimed.

She hesitated for several moments, puzzled. Draco Malfoy was a mysterious creature, like the Thestrals. But he was vile and cruel, and he never showed kindness. He wasn't misunderstood, and he certainly didn't provoke fear or indifference, right? He had everything he needed. His side had nothing to fear.

Without knowing why, she slipped the vial into her pocket. She told herself it was to analyze it more thoroughly, but she knew that her detection spell never failed; it was one of her specialties. No, deep down, she knew why that vial had found its way into her pocket.

She couldn't bear another night, another night staring at the ceiling, another night crying. That terrible pain, that utter exhaustion. She couldn't endure it any longer. She couldn't even remember what it was like to sleep without nightmares and cold sweats waking her up every night, crying.

Without thinking further, Susan Pevensie disembarked from the carriage and looked toward the imposing castle entrance, walking with determination. But she wasn't sure if she was truly prepared to fight against the ghosts of her past as the glass vial bumped against her leg from the pocket of her robe.

She had no idea about the news that would arrive early in the morning when the owls descended on the four long tables in the Great Hall. The moment she would realize that Cedric Diggory wouldn't be the last loss she would have to face in this war. When the front pages of "The Daily Prophet" would display the picture of Professor Kirke alongside another image of a grieving Polly Plummer.

The Second Wizarding War had arrived, the storm gathered over the hills. It was only a matter of time before the rain, lightning, and thunder swirled around the castle's towers, while its students sought refuge within its ancient and secure walls.