The Daughter of Valancaire

Jessa's POV


The moment I stepped onto the grounds of Valancaire Keep, the air shifted.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then—

BOOM.

A deafening explosion shattered the stillness, shaking the very ground beneath my feet. Instinct kicked in. I dodged sideways just in time as BOMBARDA rained down, the sheer force of the blasts cracking the stone where I had stood mere seconds before.

Another explosion followed—then another.

Faster.

I twisted midair, landing into a tight roll as another concussive shockwave tore through the battlefield. Shattered debris flew like shrapnel, forcing me to throw up a shield—

Protego!

The golden barrier barely held as another massive blast slammed into it, sending vibrations up my arms. I gritted my teeth, feeling the impact through my bones.

They weren’t holding back.

Fine.

I pushed off the ground, flipping over a pile of broken stone, and flicked my wand toward the scattered rubble.

Depulso!

A powerful force sent the debris hurtling through the air toward my unseen opponent—

“Bombarda.”

The moment the rocks launched, I cast, causing the rubble to detonate midair, creating a blinding flash of light to obscure my next move.

There—movement in the smoke.

I whipped my wand around, aiming at the figure—

Expelliarmus!

A red streak shot forward, aimed for the wand hidden in the chaos—

But before it could land, a counter-spell shattered my hex midair, the backlash sending ripples of force through my body.

Through the clearing smoke, a tall silhouette emerged.

A voice—calm, steady, and utterly unimpressed.

“Good.”

The battle was over.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders before following him inside, trying not to groan too loudly from frustration.

As we walked through the grand halls of Valancaire Keep, the weight of something unspoken lingered in the air.

Then—his voice, steady and cold.

“Do you remember what I told you a long time ago?”

I exhaled sharply, already knowing the answer.

“Be brilliant. Do not follow your heart.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Of course. How could I forget, Grandfather?”

He gave a short nod, as if my answer was expected.

Then—his next words cut through the air like iron.

“Love is a fool’s downfall.”

His voice was not cruel, but firm—absolute. The weight of experience dripped from every syllable.

“Emotion blinds the mind. Love makes men reckless, vulnerable. It makes even the strongest fall to their knees. The moment you allow it to guide you, you will cease to be in control.”

His steps echoed through the marble halls, measured and precise.

“Attachment is a chain. It makes you weak. It makes you hesitate. And hesitation gets you killed.”

I clenched my fists.

And yet—

Faces flashed before my mind.

My mother. My father. Their warmth, their unwavering belief in me.

Jace. Vix. Valor. My brothers—protective, relentless, always there when I needed them.

Garreth. His laughter, his unwavering support, the ease of his friendship.

Samantha. Natty. Poppy. My friends. My family beyond blood.

Anne. Strong, kind, enduring so much pain but still standing.

Ominis. The steady presence, the quiet strength in his voice, the way he always seemed to understand.

Sebastian. The fire in his gaze, the passion in his every action, the weight of our connection, unshakable even in our worst moments.

Were they truly weaknesses?

Or were they my strength?

Grandfather continued walking, his words pressing against my mind like a challenge.

He suddenly stopped, turning to face me with the full weight of his gaze. Though his eyes held no malice, there was an intensity there—sharp, unrelenting.

“Do you understand why I am saying this to you?”

His voice was steady, but beneath it, I could feel the weight of something deeper. Something dangerous.

I swallowed.

“Because you want me to be strong. To protect myself.”

But I didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, I merely nodded.

Then his next words struck like a blade to the chest.

“Remember the one who cast Cruciatus on you?”

A sharp breath left me.

My body tensed as the memory rushed back, unbidden—the white-hot pain, the way it had felt like my very bones were splitting apart, the echoes of a scream that had barely left my lips.

But worst of all—

The eyes staring back at me.

Eyes filled with horror, regret, but still willing to do it.

Sebastian.

“They hurt you, and still, you protected them.” Grandfather’s voice was calm, but unyielding. “That cannot happen, Jessa.”

I gritted my teeth, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“I understand, Grandfather,” I whispered. “But I was the one who decided to have it cast on me.”

His expression did not change.

“Why?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Why would you do that? Because you trusted them to cast it? Because you allowed it?”

I froze.

The words hit too close.

Because in that moment, it was true.

Despite the pain, despite everything—

I had trusted them.

But that trust—that faith—

That was what my grandfather saw as my weakness.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower, pressing the truth into my very bones.

“Listen to me, Jessa. Your emotions will be your downfall. You may believe they make you strong—but they will shackle you, make you hesitate when it matters most. The moment you allow yourself to act on feeling instead of reason, you are no longer in control.”

I clenched my jaw, staring at the floor.

“You must decide, child. Will you let your heart guide you to ruin? Or will you learn to wield your power as it is meant to be wielded—without mercy?”

The words hung in the air, like iron chains pressing down on my shoulders.

The faces flashed in my mind again.

Sebastian. Ominis. Anne. Jace. My parents. My brothers. My friends.

Were they really a weakness?

Or were they the only thing keeping me from becoming what my grandfather wanted me to be?

I exhaled, steadying myself.

“I understand,” I said quietly.

Grandfather nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer—for now.

“Good. Then let’s put your focus where it belongs.”

He turned toward the far end of the courtyard, raising his wand.

With a flick, the ground rumbled, and a massive boulder—at least ten times my size—rose from the earth, jagged and heavy.

“Transfiguration is not about changing an object,” he said, stepping aside. “It is about forcing reality to bend to your will. Magic is a tool—nothing more. You must command it with certainty, not hesitation.”

His eyes locked onto mine.

“I want you to transfigure that boulder into a pebble.”

A beat of silence.

I took a breath, raised my wand—

“No.”

Grandfather’s voice cut through the air before I could cast.

I frowned. “No?”

“You will not use your wand.”

I stiffened.

“You have raw magic, Jessa. Power that most witches and wizards can only dream of. And yet, you rely on this—” he gestured to my wand, ”—like a crutch.”

I swallowed.

He expected me to do this with Ancient Magic.

This was different. Harder.

Transfiguration with a wand required precise intent, but transfiguration with pure magic? It required force of will.

I exhaled, stepping toward the boulder, placing my hand over the rough surface.

I closed my eyes.

I focused.

Felt the magic hum beneath my skin, curling in my fingertips, waiting—

I reached deeper, pulling at the strings of power within the air, weaving them into my command.

Smaller.

Smaller.

I willed the boulder to shrink, commanded it to submit to my magic—

A surge of pure power crackled through my palm.

The stone shuddered beneath my hand, resisting—fighting against change.

I gritted my teeth, pushing harder, forcing reality to shift.

The boulder trembled.

Then—

CRACK.

It collapsed inward, rapidly compressing, folding smaller and smaller until it was no bigger than my palm—

Until it was a single, perfect pebble.

I stepped back, heart pounding from the raw use of power.

But my grandfather wasn’t done.

“Now—crush it.”

I blinked.

“What?”

He gestured to the small rock beneath my boot.

“Use your magic. Crush it. Erase it.”

I hesitated.

It was already small. It was already harmless.

But I knew hesitation was not allowed.

So I did.

I closed my fist in the air—

And the pebble shattered beneath my boot, turning to nothing but dust.

Grandfather gave a small nod.

“Good.”

But I barely heard him.

Because the power humming beneath my skin?

It felt too easy.

__

My grandfather dismissed me, nodding in approval—or at least, what passed for approval coming from him.

“Good,” he said. “Now go.”

The weight of his words still sat heavy on my shoulders as I stepped toward the Floo.

As the green flames engulfed me, I wondered—was that a compliment? Had I finally done something to meet his expectations? Or had I simply proven that I was capable of wielding my power as he wanted?

I didn’t know.

All I knew was that when I finally stepped out into the Hogwarts castle, the air felt lighter.

And yet—the feeling did not leave me.

I could still hear his voice.

Your emotions will be your downfall.

I walked into the Ravenclaw dormitory and found Samantha still awake, quill scratching against parchment as she worked on her essay.

At first, she didn’t notice me.

Then, she lifted her head—and immediately stilled.

Her sharp eyes studied me, as if she could see right through me.

Something about her gaze made my chest tighten.

“Jessa,” she said softly, setting her quill down. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, I asked—

“Do you think… your heart—your feelings—make a person weak?”

Samantha’s expression shifted.

She knew. She knew when it was time for teasing and when it was not.

She straightened, considering my question carefully.

Then, she sighed.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But it also makes you incredibly strong. More than you realize. But it can also… break you into a million pieces.”

Her words settled into my chest, pressing against the tangled mess of thoughts I couldn’t untangle.

I smiled, even if it didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Samantha, seeing something I couldn’t hide, slowly walked to me and cupped my face in her hands.

“Are you okay?” she murmured.

She was warm. Steady.

“I have Firewhisky hidden in here if you want.”

I let out a surprised laugh.

“I’ve never had one,” I admitted.

She grinned.

“Then prepare to be awoken, my dear friend.”

I blinked. “Samantha, we’re underage.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, pish posh. Nobody will know.”

And that was why I loved this friend of mine.

She knew when to push, when to pull, when to let me breathe, and when to drown me in mischief.

I had no idea what I was in for.

At first, I thought Samantha and I were just going to sneak a drink together.

Then, before I could blink, invitations were sent, whispers spread, and suddenly—

The entire Ravenclaw common room was turning into a full-blown party.

I stared in shock.

“Samantha,” I said slowly, “what is happening?”

She grinned.

“Oh, Jessa. You sweet, innocent soul. Welcome to your first Ravenclaw party.”

I blinked. “But this was supposed to be—”

“This is always how it is,” she laughed, shoving me toward my dorm. “Now, go change.”

“What? Samantha, this is spontaneous—”

“Exactly! And besides, this is your first year at Hogwarts, which means you don’t know how things work. But trust me—tonight, you’ll witness how Ravenclaws party.”

I sighed, exasperated.

But…

I smiled.

Fine.

Why not?

For one night—one single night—I could forget everything.

By the time I returned, the common room had transformed.

Blue and silver lights danced across the high ceiling, charmed orbs hovering in the air like fireflies.

Bookshelves had been cleared, tables pushed back—creating a wide, open space where students gathered, laughing, chattering, clinking glasses of buttered firewhisky.

Familiar faces filled the room—Everett Clopton, Amit Thakkar, others from my house I recognized but had never spoken to much.

But it didn’t matter.

Because this night belonged to us.

Samantha grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward a table where drinks had been lined up.

She handed me a cup, raising hers high.

A cheer erupted.

“To Ravenclaws!” someone shouted.

Everett grinned, lifting his drink. “We study hard!”

Amit smirked. “We party harder!”

“CHEERS!”

The sound of clinking glasses filled the air, and I lifted mine alongside them.

I took my first sip of firewhisky.

Warmth spread down my throat, rich and sweet, burning slightly but in a way that made me grin.

It felt good.

For once, it felt good to let go.

The party only grew wilder.

•Someone had enchanted a chair to fly, and now a student was desperately clutching onto it as it zoomed across the room.

•Everett challenged a group to a ridiculous game of “Dare or Disaster”, where the dares got progressively worse.

•Samantha was laughing so hard she was crying after someone misfired a spell, turning Amit’s robes into a pile of parchment.

•I, somehow, got dragged into a wild dance-off, where students had charmed the floor to move on its own, forcing everyone to match the unpredictable beat.

•By the time I was out of breath, my stomach hurt from laughter.

The weight of my responsibilities, my training, my battles—

For the first time in forever, they did not exist.

For one night, I was just Jessa Valancaire.

A Ravenclaw. A student. A girl having fun.

And it was wonderful.

—

Morning arrived like a curse.

I groaned, feeling like my entire skull had been hexed by a hundred Bombarda spells.

Beside me, Samantha was face-down on her bed, letting out a pathetic groan into her pillow.

“Sam,” I croaked. “Is it always like this?”

Samantha shifted slightly, just enough to peek at me through bleary eyes.

“Yes, Jessa. It is.”

We laid there in silent suffering for another few minutes before accepting our fate.

Slowly—painfully—we forced ourselves out of bed, moving like Inferi as we attempted to get ready for breakfast.

I downed a potion that was supposed to help with hangovers. Samantha did the same.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The amount of firewhisky we had consumed was insane, and we were paying the price.

Yet…

I smiled through the headache.

“I had fun,” I admitted, turning to Samantha.

She grinned weakly, ruffling my already messy hair.

“Good,” she said. “That was only the beginning. Next time, we’ll have an interhouse party—with all of our friends.”

I let out a tired laugh, rubbing my temples.

“I can’t wait.”

And for once, I meant it.

By the time we stumbled into the Great Hall, we were still half-dead.

Everything was too bright. Too loud. Even the sound of students chewing made my head throb.

But worse than that?

The staring.

Our entire friend group was watching us.

Sebastian.

Ominis.

Natty.

Poppy.

Jace.

I slowed my steps, knowing we had just walked straight into our own execution.

Jace was the first to approach, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “If it isn’t the party girls.”

The others giggled.

Samantha groaned and dropped into a seat dramatically, burying her face in her hands.

I sighed, already knowing this was going to be painful.

The Interrogation Begins

“WHY DID YOU NOT INVITE US?!” Poppy suddenly demanded—though there was more amusement than actual offense in her tone.

I winced.

“Poppy, I’m sorry—”

“It was a Ravenclaw party,” Samantha cut in, still rubbing her temples. “It was so sudden. I didn’t even have time to prepare a proper guest list—”

Poppy huffed, arms crossed. “Excuses.”

Sebastian chuckled, looking far too entertained by all of this.

“So,” Jace leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “How was your firewhisky?”

I froze.

“What?! How did you know?!” I blurted.

Jace smirked. “Jessa. Please. It was a Ravenclaw party. Everyone knows Ravenclaws have the best combination drinks.

Poppy nodded sagely. “You guys are nerds. But you party hard.”

We laughed, though it hurt my head.

Sebastian tilted his head, grinning.

“So,” he said, amusement thick in his voice. “How was it?”

I sighed, shaking my head.

This was going to be a long, long breakfast.

—

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, but I couldn’t hide my amusement as I took a sip of the tea Ominis had just poured for me.

“Natty,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “Amit parties hard.”

She immediately choked on her pumpkin juice.

Sebastian, mid-chew, raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s this?”

Natty wiped her mouth, flustered. “I—I do not know what you are talking about.”

Samantha, still half-dying from the effects of last night, perked up despite herself. “Oh no, Jessa, do tell us more. I love a good story over breakfast.”

I smirked. “Let’s just say Amit was very… enthusiastic about the ‘truth or dare’ portion of the night. Especially when it involved Natty.”

The table erupted in laughter.

Natty groaned, but her blush betrayed her.

“I will hex you all,” she muttered, reaching for her wand, but I knew she didn’t mean it.

Ominis, ever the practical one, poured more tea for both Samantha and me.

“This will help,” he said simply, placing a fresh cup in front of me.

I smiled gratefully, taking another much-needed sip.

Sebastian, however, immediately noticed Ominis’ thoughtful gesture—and he refused to be left behind.

Without a word, he started serving us breakfast.

He placed a plate in front of me.

Another in front of Samantha.

Then he very pointedly cut up some toast and placed it neatly on my plate.

I stared at him. “Sebastian.”

He smirked. “What? Eat.”

Jace, beside us, stifled a laugh. “Are you two competing on who takes better care of Jessa?”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “No.”

Sebastian, at the exact same time, said, “Absolutely not.”

We all stared at them.

They both scowled.

Jace lost it.

he wheezed. “You two are ridiculous.”

The teasing continued until the morning owl post arrived.

Dozens of owls swooped in, delivering letters, newspapers, and packages.

I was half-listening to whatever ridiculous story Samantha was telling about the party—when I saw it.

Two letters.

One was thick. Too thick.

My stomach dropped.

The owl dropped them directly in front of me.

One envelope was marked with Anne’s handwriting.

The other—even thicker—was from… my mother.

I froze.

The entire table noticed.

Sebastian was the first to break the silence.

“What… is that even a letter?” he asked, staring at the unusually heavy parchment.

Poppy leaned over. “It’s thicker than our Potions book.”

Samantha let out a low whistle. “That is a novel, Jessa. Are you sure your mother didn’t send you an entire manifesto?”

I gulped. “Oh dear.”

Jace snickered. “I think you might need a whole hour just to get through that one.”

Sebastian nudged my arm. “Who’s it from?”

I swallowed, lifting the letters carefully.

“Anne. And… my mother.”

Now that made everyone shut up.

Even Sebastian—who had never run out of things to say—fell silent.

Samantha tilted her head. “Your mother wrote you a whole textbook?”

I slowly nodded.

Ominis, ever the most perceptive, frowned slightly. “Jessa… are you okay?”

I wasn’t sure.

Jace smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “Go on, then. Open them. Or shall we wait for Christmas?”

I rolled my eyes, breaking the seal on Anne’s first. Best to start with the safe one.

Letter from Anne

Dearest Jessa,

I was pleased to know that Sebastian has indeed apologized to you, and let me tell you—it was no small feat. His solution is to just kneel (which I immediately dismissed. You are welcome)

I suppose I should be proud of him, though the image of him swallowing his pride is something I will cherish forever.

Now, let’s move on to something even more important—YOUR COPY OF THE DUKE AND I. Lend it to me at once. I need entertainment, and if it made you blush as much as they claim, I must read it.

Speaking of entertainment, I heard about the Great Chase of Valancaire. My dear Jessa, I am beside myself. The image of three boys frantically chasing you through Hogwarts? A masterpiece. A legend. The fact that Peeves has turned it into a song? Utterly spectacular. I demand a full recounting.

Sebastian, if you are reading over Jessa’s shoulder (which I know you do), HOW COULD YOU LET PEEVES WIN? This is a new low, even for you.

I await all the details, and yes—this is a threat.

With all my love,

Anne

I groaned, dropping my head onto the table. “She knows.”

Sebastian, mid-sip of tea, immediately choked.

Ominis let out a deep sigh. “Brilliant.”

Jace snickered, looking far too pleased. “You do realize there is no escaping this now, yes?”

Poppy leaned forward, grinning. “Well, what did Anne say about Peeves’ song?”

I lifted the letter and read the direct quote from Peeves.

Sebastian visibly twitched. “I’m going to kill him.”

The table burst into laughter, and just as the teasing reached its peak, I turned my attention to the second letter.

I immediately shielded it from view.

Sebastian squinted. “Why are you reading it like it’s classified Ministry information?”

Ominis, sipping his tea, hummed. “She’s hiding something.”

I was.

And for good reason.

Letter from Mother

My Dearest Daughter,

You have no idea how delighted I was to receive your letter.

Well, to be perfectly honest, I was more delighted by the additional information provided to me by your ever-dutiful brothers, Valor and Vix, who seem to believe it is their sworn duty to ensure I am thoroughly updated on your escapades.

Jessa, my sweet girl—YOU HAD A PUBLIC FIGHT WITH TWO MEN OVER ANOTHER MAN?

OH, HOW MY HEART SOARS.

Ominis apologized immediately (as he should, very good manners that boy).

Sebastian, however? A public apology using rare flowers? How utterly romantic. I do hope you made him sweat first. I would have personally advised a dramatic pause before forgiveness—perhaps even a well-timed walk away.

And Garreth? He dragged you off by the wrist? Interesting. Very interesting. WHERE, my dear? WHERE DID HE TAKE YOU?

Valor insists that it was nothing scandalous, but I know my daughter. And I know that a boy does not just take a girl somewhere ‘for no reason.’

(Write back immediately.)

Now, moving on.

I cannot tell you how pleased I am to hear you have some semblance of a love life now.

I knew it the moment we had lunch with those boys. I felt it. You cannot hide these things from me, Jessa. A mother knows. You may as well start accepting that now.

Now, regarding your problem.

Amortentia.

You smelled all three of them. My poor, sweet girl—how utterly predictable.

Sebastian Sallow—intense, reckless, and possessive in ways he does not yet understand. He would duel the entire castle if you so much as sighed longingly at a sunset.

Ominis Gaunt—controlled, composed… until you are involved. The Callidora Bloom reducing him to a mess? Jessa, dearest, what did you do to that boy?

Garreth Weasley—the one who challenges you in ways you do not expect. He pulls you into adventure, forces you to stop thinking and just live. That is a dangerous kind of power, my dear, and one you should not underestimate.

Here is my advice:

1. The Callidora Bloom does not lie. What happened in that greenhouse was nothing more than a enhanced truth. Pay attention to the reactions.

2. Do not be distracted by grand gestures (yes, even flower-filled apologies). True feelings are in the small moments.

3. If a man cannot look you in the eye when faced with his emotions, that is something worth considering.

4. If a man immediately crumbles under the weight of your presence, that is very telling.

5. If a man would set himself on fire rather than let someone else have you, well… you already know how that ends.

Now, to properly prepare you for the chaos that is coming, I have enclosed a comprehensive, 80-page manual detailing everything a woman must know about men, relationships, and strategic decision-making.

Yes, my dear. 80 pages.

Do not complain. You will thank me later.

Your ever-loving and highly amused mother,

Lady Valancaire

I froze.

The entire table watched me with suspicious curiosity as I frantically shoved the letter down, using my potions textbook to shield it from prying eyes.

Samantha narrowed her eyes. “Jessa. What. Did. She. Say?”

“Nothing.”

Jace grinned, practically vibrating in anticipation.

Poppy pointed at the now-hidden letter. “That thing is THICK. What in Merlin’s name did she write to you? A novel?”

Sebastian leaned in, smirking. “Must have been good if you’re hiding it like that.”

Ominis, ever the observer, took another sip of tea. “Judging by her body language, I’d say it involves us.”

I glared at him. “I hate that you’re always right.”

Jace, grinning like a madman, reached out. “Just let me see it—”

I yanked it away, eyes wide. “Touch this letter and I will hex you into next week.”

Sebastian and Ominis tilted their heads simultaneously. “Interesting.”

Poppy beamed. “Oh, this is golden.”

Samantha nudged me. “Come on, you have to at least tell us something.”

Absolutely not.

Not about the fight.

Not about the flowers.

And definitely not about the 80-page manual on men and relationships.

I would take this to my grave.

But, of course, my dear traitorous best friend had other plans.

Samantha suddenly gasped, pointing at my lap. “What is that?”

Like an IDIOT, I looked down.

And in that split second, she snatched the “manual”.

“SAMANTHA!”

She bolted, flipping through the pages wildly, eyes scanning, mouth moving—

And then—

She combusted.

Not literally, but her entire body seized up as if she had just read the most scandalous thing in existence. Her face flushed deep red, her hands trembled, and she gasped so loudly that nearby tables turned to stare.

“WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME IS THIS?!” she screeched.

Jace, who had lunged forward to peek over her shoulder, instantly recoiled, coughing into his fist. “Sweet Salazar—”

Sebastian, alarm flashing across his face, ripped the manual from her hands before she could read another word.

He took one glance at the page—

And immediately shut it with a horrified expression.

Ominis, frowning, held out a hand. “What? What’s in it?”

Sebastian, pale, hesitated. “You don’t… want to know.”

Poppy, who was half-laughing, half-concerned, grabbed Samantha by the shoulders. “What—what did you just read?!”

Samantha, still reeling, stared into the abyss as if she had witnessed forbidden knowledge. “It’s—it’s an instruction manual. But not just any instruction manual. It is…” She gulped, looking at me with pure betrayal. “Jessa. Your mother is insane.”

Jace choked back laughter. “Define insane.”

Samantha pointed accusingly. “She wrote EIGHTY PAGES on how to handle men. And not just generalized handling. I mean detailed—case-specific—step-by-step guides on how to navigate their behavior.”

Ominis, mildly intrigued now, reached for the manual. “You’re all being ridiculous. How bad could it—”

Sebastian yanked it away again, clutching it to his chest like it was a dark artifact.

“BAD.”

Ominis raised a brow. “… That bad?”

Sebastian gave him a grave look. “You don’t understand. There are diagrams.”

Silence.

Ominis immediately withdrew his hand. “Keep it away from me.”

Jace, laughing so hard he nearly collapsed, thumped the table. “Oh—OH—this is bloody brilliant—”

Meanwhile, I, Jessa Valancaire, future corpse, was dying inside.

Poppy grabbed the manual, flipped through a few pages—gasped—then promptly slammed it shut before handing it back to me like it was cursed.

“Burn it,” she whispered.

Samantha, still scandalized, pointed a trembling finger at me. “You’re going to have to explain everything later.”

Sebastian dragged his hands down his face. “You and your mother… I swear…”

Jace, gleeful, leaned closer. “What I’m hearing is that you now have official strategies for dealing with us.”

Ominis sighed. “Saints preserve us.”

I buried my face in my hands, groaning. “I hate my life.”

___

After all the antics, embarrassment, and near-death from secondhand mortification, we hurried to finish breakfast and get to Transfiguration class.

The manual was still in Samantha’s possession.

And she had demands.

As we walked through the corridors, dodging groups of younger students and the occasional suit of armor that Peeves had enchanted to dance, Samantha tightened her grip on the manual and declared,

“Study session. Tonight.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet. “What?”

She held up the massive tome of my suffering, looking far too excited. “Jessa, this is the most valuable piece of literature Hogwarts has ever seen. This could change lives. I refuse to let it go unread.”

Jace stifled a laugh. “Honestly, she has a point.”

Sebastian, exhausted by existence, groaned. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Samantha countered, flipping through the pages. “This has everything. And I mean everything.”

I tried to grab it from her, but she was too quick, clutching it to her chest.

“We must analyze it, break it down, compare it with real-life experiences—”

“You mean my real-life experiences,” I muttered.

She grinned. “Yes, obviously.”

Ominis sighed, rubbing his temples. “Please don’t encourage this.”

Samantha ignored him entirely and pressed on.

“Tonight, after dinner, Ravenclaw common room. Bring tea. And chocolate.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Samantha, I will set that book on fire.”

“No, you won’t,” she said sweetly. “You’re too curious.”

Damn her.

Jace smirked. “I kind of want to hear what it says about Garreth.”

Sebastian visibly tensed. “Why? Why would you want to know that?”

Jace shrugged. “I think it’s interesting.”

“It’s not.”

Samantha flipped a few pages, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh, this part is good.”

I panicked. “SAMANTHA, STOP READING!”

She snickered but didn’t stop.

Poppy, eyes gleaming with mischief, leaned in. “What does it say?”

“Oh, just a very… fascinating analysis on how to tell if someone is jealous.”

Sebastian looked like he wanted to die. “I hate this. I hate everything about this.”

Samantha grinned at me. “So, study session confirmed?”

I groaned. “I can’t tonight.”

Samantha blinked. “What? Why?”

Ominis, suddenly very composed, interjected, “She has… plans.”

Samantha narrowed her eyes. “What kind of plans?”

Ominis shrugged. “Private ones.”

Poppy gasped. “Oh?”

Sebastian frowned. “Why do you sound like that?”

Samantha crossed her arms. “Jessa Valancaire, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” I rushed out quickly. “I just have something to do. Important things. Not at all romantic things. Strictly business things.”

Samantha raised a brow. “Uh-huh.”

Jace grinned. “This is going to be fun.”

Ominis sighed. “I already regret everything.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Samantha relented. “But this is happening, Jessa. I don’t care if I have to drag you into the common room myself.”

I sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “Fine. But if anyone breathes a word of this to Garreth, I’m hexing all of you.”

“Deal.”

Sebastian muttered under his breath. “This school is cursed.”

Ominis nodded solemnly. “We should have never let her read it.”

We finally made it to Transfiguration class, but as I sat down, my mother’s words still lingered in my mind.

And tonight, whether I liked it or not, I had far bigger things to worry about.

____

Professor Weasley stood at the front of the classroom, her warm yet commanding presence drawing the attention of every student. With a flick of her wand, the blackboard filled with elegant script, detailing today’s lesson.

“Welcome, everyone,” she began, “to another lesson on Transfiguration. Now, as you all know, Transfiguration is one of the most complex branches of magic. It requires precision, intent, and a deep understanding of the object you are working with.”

She gestured to a small ornate goblet on her desk. With a fluid motion, she pointed her wand at it and intoned,

“Mutatio Formae.”

Before our eyes, the goblet shimmered and shifted into a delicate silver cat figurine, its tail curling elegantly around its paws.

There were scattered murmurs of appreciation.

“Transfiguration,” Professor Weasley continued, “is not simply about changing an object’s appearance, but rather understanding its composition, structure, and potential.”

She tapped the figurine once more, and it effortlessly reverted back into a goblet.

“Today’s task,” she announced, “is a simple but essential exercise. Each of you will start with a glass. Your goal is to transform it into something of your choosing. It can be decorative, useful, or even something personally significant to you. What matters most is how well you visualize and direct your magic.”

At that moment, I felt an odd sense of familiarity settle over me. This was not new to me.

I had already done this before.

Last night.

Under the unrelenting eyes of my grandfather.

I could still hear his voice, sharp and unwavering.

“Transfiguration is not just words and a wand flick. You must impose your will upon the object, bend it to your command. If you hesitate, you fail.”

I exhaled slowly, steeling myself. This time, there was no looming presence judging my every move. No shouts. No attacks.

Just me, my wand, and my own intent.

Professor Weasley clapped her hands together. “Begin!”

All around the room, students eagerly lifted their wands, eyes focused on their glasses.

Samantha, next to me, was already grinning. “What are you going to turn yours into?”

I hesitated. What should I choose?

Something practical? Something beautiful? Something meaningful?

I glanced across the room.

Poppy was tilting her head, as if debating between two ideas.

Sebastian, of course, was smirking, looking far too confident. He lazily flicked his wand, and his glass half-shifted into what appeared to be a very misshapen wolf.

Ominis, however, was taking his time, carefully feeling his way around the object before even attempting anything.

I took a deep breath.

“Make it personal,” I reminded myself.

A phoenix.

It came to my mind so naturally, as if it had always been the answer. A symbol of resilience, rebirth, and unwavering strength. It was everything I had to be.

Lifting my wand, I focused on the glass in front of me.

“Mutatio Formae.”

Magic pulsed from my wand, the glass shimmering and warping. It began to take shape—elegant curves, a sharp beak, delicate feathers unfolding like fire. A small but perfect glass phoenix sat on the table before me, wings poised mid-flight.

Samantha gasped. “Jessa—!”

Professor Weasley appeared behind me, her voice warm but tinged with approval. “Well done, Miss Valancaire. A very intricate transformation indeed.”

I exhaled, pride blooming in my chest.

Sebastian, who had finally managed to turn his deformed wolf into something vaguely recognizable, leaned over with an impressed look. “Show-off.”

Ominis reached out carefully, his fingers brushing against the glass phoenix. “A phoenix?” he murmured.

I nodded.

He didn’t say anything else, but I could feel the understanding pass between us.

Not just any creature.

A phoenix.

The very thing we would be searching for tonight.

___

As we made our way toward Magical Theory, the halls of Hogwarts were bustling with students rushing to their next classes, books tucked under their arms, and the lingering energy of the morning still in the air.

I walked alongside my friends, Samantha, Poppy, and Natty, while Sebastian and Ominis trailed slightly behind.

The topic of the morning? Last night’s Ravenclaw party.

“Honestly,” Poppy mused, “I can’t believe you two survived all that Firewhisky. I was expecting Samantha to carry you to class this morning.”

“She nearly did,” I admitted, rubbing my temples.

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “You lot had all the fun without us. Next time, we’re crashing it.”

Before I could respond, Sebastian suddenly turned his gaze on me, his expression too casual—which meant he was about to start trouble.

“So, Jessa,” he drawled, “what exactly are your plans for tonight?”

I froze.

Damn it.

I knew this was coming. I knew Sebastian wouldn’t just let the subject drop.

But knowing something and preparing for it were two very different things.

“Tonight?” I repeated, far too high-pitched to sound natural. “Oh, um—well, you know—things. Just—things.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his smirk deepening. “Things?”

I nodded. Too much. Too quickly.

“Yes. Important things.”

Sebastian crossed his arms, clearly enjoying my suffering. “And what kind of important things?”

Before I could dig myself into an even bigger hole, Ominis—sweet, glorious, quick-thinking Ominis—came to my rescue.

“Professor Sharp,” Ominis said smoothly, without missing a beat. “She asked for Jessa’s help restocking some of the advanced potions ingredients in the classroom tonight. Something about reorganizing after a student knocked over an entire shelf of Ashwinder eggs.”

Sebastian blinked. “Sharp? He wants you of all people to help him? Since when does he ask students to do grunt work?”

“Since she’s one of the few he actually tolerates,” Ominis added before I could respond. “And before you get any ideas, Sebastian, you know how Sharp is. If he catches you loitering, he’ll make you scrub cauldrons for the rest of term.”

Poppy winced. “He does do that. Happened to poor Everette last week when he tried sneaking extra ingredients for an experiment.”

Sebastian sighed, defeated. “Yeah, alright. Sharp’s terrifying enough that I actually believe that excuse.”

Ominis shot me the briefest smirk.

I nearly collapsed in relief.

That was close.
___

We stepped into Magical Theory, the air filled with the quiet shuffling of students settling into their seats. The familiar scent of parchment, ink, and old books drifted through the classroom, a comforting reminder of Hogwarts’ long history of knowledge and discovery.

This was supposed to be one of our first classes of the year, but due to Headmaster Black constantly sending Professor Fig on his tedious errands, we had been delayed from starting.

Now, finally, the class was about to begin.

As I made my way to my usual seat, I suddenly paused.

Wait.

Why were Sebastian and Ominis sitting on either side of me?

I turned my head slowly, eyes narrowing at Samantha, Poppy, and Natty, who were very much not making eye contact with me.

Ah.

A setup.

Samantha feigned innocence, staring up at the ceiling as if she’d suddenly developed a deep interest in cobwebs.

Poppy bit her lip, suppressing a smile.

Natty just shook her head, but I saw the amusement in her eyes.

Those traitors.

I sighed in resignation and took my seat—right between Sebastian and Ominis, once again.

“Convenient,” I muttered under my breath, glancing toward the girls.

Samantha flashed a too-sweet smile from across the room. “Oh, I don’t know what you mean.”

I didn’t believe her for a second.

Sebastian leaned in, resting his chin on his hand, looking far too smug. “Something wrong, Jessa? You seem tense.”

“Oh, shut it, Sallow.”

“I don’t know,” Ominis mused from my other side. “You do seem particularly flustered today. And after all the attention you got this morning, one would think you’d be used to it by now.”

Sebastian snorted. “Right? The Great Chase of Valancaire, now a Hogwarts legend.”

I groaned and resisted the urge to bang my head against the desk.

Before they could bully me further, Professor Fig finally entered, saving me from their torment.

The class fell silent as he strode toward the front of the room, setting down a stack of books before turning to address us.

“Good morning, everyone. I do apologize for the delay in starting our lessons, but as many of you may have noticed, the Headmaster seems to believe my true calling is running errands rather than teaching. However,” he adjusted his robes with a sigh, “we finally begin today.”

Professor Fig looked out at the class, his expression kind but expectant.

“Magical Theory is often overlooked as simply the study of spells on parchment rather than in practice. However, understanding the why of magic—its origins, its limitations, and its potential—is just as crucial as mastering the wand work itself.”

He gestured to the blackboard, where three words appeared with a flick of his wand:

Intent. Focus. Execution.

“These three principles are at the heart of every spell you cast. Whether it’s a simple Lumos or a powerful Protego, magic responds to will, control, and clarity of purpose. Fail to apply all three, and the magic falters.”

A few students, Sebastian included, looked intrigued.

I, however, already knew most of this.

Last night’s brutal training with my grandfather had drilled these concepts into me.

Still, I listened carefully as Fig continued. There was always more to learn, even if my body still ached from last night’s exercises.

Sebastian nudged my arm slightly. “You look deep in thought.”

“Just listening,” I replied, keeping my voice neutral.

Sebastian arched an eyebrow but said nothing.

Professor Fig clapped his hands. “Now, let’s begin with an analysis of magical intent. Open your books to page twenty-four, and let’s discuss the foundation of spellcasting theory.”

__

The classroom was filled with the quiet rustle of pages turning as students flipped open their textbooks, quills poised and ready for notes. Professor Fig had begun his explanation of magical intent, emphasizing how willpower and focus shaped the outcome of a spell.

As he spoke, my mind wandered to something I had been wondering about for a while—something that had lingered in my thoughts ever since my training with Grandfather.

I hesitated for a moment, then raised my hand.

Professor Fig noticed immediately. “Yes, Miss Valancaire?”

I sat up straighter, my voice thoughtful as I asked, “What happens if your intent falters while casting a spell? Not before or after—but in the middle of it?”

There was a pause.

A few students, including Sebastian and Ominis, turned their heads toward me, clearly interested in the question.

Professor Fig, to his credit, did not brush it off. He took a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully before answering.

“An excellent question, Miss Valancaire.”

He paced slightly before continuing, his tone measured.

“The answer depends greatly on the nature of the spell itself. Most basic spells—such as Lumos or Accio—simply fizzle out if the caster’s intent weakens before full execution. However, for more advanced magic, the results can be unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable how?” I pressed, intrigued.

Professor Fig gave me a knowing look. “Surely you’ve noticed that the more powerful the spell, the greater the risk.”

I had.

Grandfather had made it very clear last night—powerful magic was not forgiving.

Professor Fig continued, his voice serious now.

“Take, for example, a spell like Protego. If you hesitate while conjuring it, your shield may falter—leaving you vulnerable mid-duel. The same applies to offensive spells. A misfired Flipendo might send your opponent stumbling rather than launching them backward.”**

Amit raised his hand, looking curious. “And for more dangerous spells, Professor?”

Fig’s expression darkened slightly. “Ah. That is where the true dangers lie.”

The air in the classroom felt heavier.

“For spells that require immense magical energy—especially curses or transfigurations—hesitation can lead to disastrous consequences. A faltering intent while casting Confringo could cause the explosion to misdirect, harming not only the intended target but potentially the caster as well. A half-finished Transfiguration might result in an incomplete transformation—leaving the object or creature in an unstable state.”

A few students shuddered at that thought.

I frowned slightly. “So the greater the spell, the more dangerous it is if your will is uncertain?”

Professor Fig nodded. “Precisely. Magic follows intent, but it also follows momentum. A spell in motion does not simply stop if your focus weakens—it may distort, fracture, or backlash. That is why certainty is crucial, particularly when performing magic beyond the ordinary.”

Sebastian, arms crossed, murmured, “That explains a lot.”

Ominis, beside me, remained silent, but his posture was tense.

I lowered my gaze to my desk, contemplating his words.

This meant that Grandfather had been right all along.

Hesitation could be fatal.

Professor Fig’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Your question is an insightful one, Miss Valancaire. If I may ask, what made you think of it?”

I hesitated. “Just… something I’ve been considering.”

Fig studied me for a moment but did not push further.

“A wise thing to wonder about. I urge you all to remember: control of your magic begins with control of your mind. The stronger your conviction, the stronger your magic will be.”

The lesson resumed, but my thoughts lingered.

I caught Ominis glancing at me, his expression unreadable. Sebastian, too, looked thoughtful, as if turning over his own questions in his mind.

I turned my attention back to the discussion, but my heart felt just a little heavier.
__

The classroom remained still for a moment after my question, the weight of Professor Fig’s words lingering in the air. I had barely begun to process his response when Leander Prewett, who was sitting directly behind Samantha, raised his hand.

Professor Fig turned to him with a nod. “Yes, Mr. Prewett?”

Leander leaned forward slightly, his expression filled with curiosity and something else—something almost too eager.

“Professor, if magic follows intent, then how does that apply to the Unforgivable Curses?”

My breath caught.

I wasn’t the only one.

Sebastian stiffened beside me, his grip tightening around his quill. I could hear the soft scratch of ink where he had unconsciously pressed too hard against his parchment.

Ominis’ shoulders went rigid. His usually composed demeanor betrayed a flicker of unease, though his face remained impassive.

My own stomach churned. Of all questions, why did he have to ask that one?

Professor Fig exhaled slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

“A dangerous inquiry, Mr. Prewett.”

The class seemed to lean in slightly, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

Fig clasped his hands together, his tone now cautious but firm.

“The Unforgivable Curses are unique in their execution. Unlike most spells, they require not only the incantation and a wand movement but also a precise state of mind. Their effectiveness does not solely rely on skill, but on the caster’s ability to channel pure intent.”

Pure intent.

I swallowed.

Leander did not seem fazed. “But what kind of intent?”

Fig’s gaze darkened. “Dark magic is called ‘dark’ for a reason, Mr. Prewett. The intent required for Unforgivables is not just focus—it is a willingness. A true desire for the spell’s outcome.”

The room felt colder.

“Take the Imperius Curse,” Fig continued. “It requires an unwavering desire to control another’s will. A flickering hesitation? A moment of doubt? The spell weakens, the control falters.”

Fig’s voice grew quieter. “The Cruciatus Curse is even more unforgiving. It is not enough to simply cast it—you must mean it. You must truly want your target to suffer.”

My hands curled into fists beneath the desk.

Sebastian turned his face slightly away, his expression unreadable but his posture taut.

Ominis sat still as stone, his fingers lightly gripping the edge of the desk, as if grounding himself.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

And I knew what I was thinking.

I had felt it once before.

The hesitation. The horror. The way pain had torn through me when Sebastian had cast Cruciatus on me that night.

Because I had asked him to.

Because I had trusted him to.

Leander, oblivious to the storm of emotions raging in our row, leaned back and folded his arms. “So… you can’t just cast them by accident?”

Fig’s eyes sharpened. “No. The Unforgivable Curses do not allow for accidents.”

Silence.

Then, he added, “It is not magic that is evil, Mr. Prewett. It is the intent behind it. A spell is only as dark as the hands that wield it.”

A shiver ran through me.

I felt Sebastian’s gaze flick toward me, but I didn’t meet it.

Ominis didn’t move, but I could feel the weight of his presence beside me.

Samantha, seated in front of me, subtly turned her head, sensing the shift in mood.

And for a brief, terrible moment, I wondered—

If magic follows intent…

___

I had expected Magical Theory to be an academic discussion, maybe a little dull even—but this?

The atmosphere had turned unusually heavy, and I knew exactly why.

Sebastian, Ominis, and I were silent.

I didn’t have to ask what they were thinking. I knew.

Because I was thinking about it too.

The night in the Scriptorium.

The night we had all crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.

The night Sebastian had cast Cruciatus on me.

The night we had walked out of Salazar Slytherin’s tomb carrying knowledge we were never meant to have.

I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to focus.

Professor Fig continued the lesson, but I barely absorbed any of it.

Sebastian sat unnaturally still beside me, his quill barely moving against his parchment. Ominis had folded his arms and remained rigid, unmoving, his face unreadable.

Only Samantha seemed unaffected, though she was currently arguing in hushed tones with Leander Prewett. I caught snippets of their bickering, something about proper magical citations, but my mind was elsewhere.

The moment the lesson ended, a collective groan rose from the class.

Professor Fig had assigned us homework.

I barely had time to react before I heard my name.

“Miss Valancaire, a word?”

I turned toward Professor Fig, who stood near his desk, gesturing for me to stay behind.

Sebastian and Ominis both hesitated.

“I’ll see you later,” I told them, forcing a small smile.

Sebastian gave me a lingering glance before leaving, his expression unreadable. Ominis nodded, though his brows knit together slightly in concern.

Once the room cleared, I followed Professor Fig into his office.

The moment the door shut, he turned to me with a knowing look.

“I have secured your permission for the Restricted Section.”

My eyes widened slightly.

That was sooner than I had expected.

“Tomorrow night,” he continued, “you will have access.”

My stomach twisted with anticipation.

Tomorrow night.

That meant I had tonight to complete the Phoenix scouting mission with Ominis—then the next night, I would be diving into ancient secrets yet again.

Fig studied me for a moment before adding, “I told them I needed you to find some books on magical theory for my research.”

I exhaled in relief. A perfect cover.

“That’s brilliant, Professor.”

He nodded but gave me a pointed look. “I want to ask… do you want me to accompany you?”

I opened my mouth, then paused.

I knew he was only offering because he cared.

Fig had always been a mentor to me, more so than any other professor at Hogwarts. His guidance had been invaluable.

But… the Restricted Section wasn’t a battlefield.

And besides, surely there wouldn’t be any dangers?

I shook my head before I could even think. “Surely there will be no dangers there, Professor. Only Peeves?” I joked.

He chuckled softly, though his eyes remained sharp. “Peeves is his own form of danger.”

I laughed.

But he did not.

Instead, he clasped his hands together and said, “Then I will respect your decision. But be prepared always, Jessa.”

His voice was softer now, filled with something almost paternal.

“I was told you are a budding prodigy in potions. Use that to your advantage always.”

I blinked at the compliment but nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

His expression softened. “Good luck, Miss Valancaire.”

I turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of excitement and unease.

As I stepped out of his office, I exhaled deeply.

Tomorrow night.

The Restricted Section.

What secrets awaited me there?
__

As I left Professor Fig’s office, a familiar weight settled on my shoulders. I needed to find my brothers.

Despite everything we had shared, there were still things I hadn’t told them.

Things about Anne.

Things about Sebastian’s obsession.

Things about my reckless plans tonight.

But I wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

At the very least, I could update them on Grandfather’s training and my upcoming trip to the Restricted Section.

I made my way through the castle, the afternoon light filtering through the tall windows of the corridors. The hum of students chatting and laughing was a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in my mind.

I already knew where to find them.

Jace, Vix, and Valor shared classes together, and Jace—being a year younger—had been pushed ahead into Sixth-Year studies. So he was always tagging along with our older brothers.

I turned down the corridor leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and sure enough—

There they were.

I stopped by the open doorway, immediately biting back a laugh.

Jace stood at the front of the classroom, firing off questions at a clearly exhausted Professor Hecat.

Vix and Valor sat behind him, their expressions a perfect mixture of exasperation and secondhand embarrassment.

Vix had his arms crossed, his foot tapping as he shook his head. Valor was twirling his quill between his fingers, lips pursed like he was praying for patience.

“Jace, enough!” Vix hissed under his breath. “She’s going to hex you if you keep asking questions.”

“She should appreciate my curiosity,” Jace replied, utterly unbothered. “It’s a sign of an eager mind.”

“It’s a sign of a menace,” Valor muttered.

I covered my mouth to keep from laughing.

Professor Hecat sighed dramatically, rubbing her temples. “Mr. Valancaire, if you have more questions, save them for your essays.”

Jace, completely unfazed, hummed thoughtfully before finally returning to his seat.

Then, mercifully, class ended.

As students streamed out into the corridor, I stepped forward. The moment my brothers spotted me, their expressions shifted.

Jace perked up immediately. “Jessa?”

Vix and Valor studied me carefully. Too carefully.

I hesitated. They knew me too well. They could tell when something was on my mind.

“What’s wrong?” Jace asked, his tone sharp with concern.

I glanced around, ensuring the hallway was clearing out.

“Can we talk?” I asked. “Somewhere private.”

The three of them exchanged a look, the usual teasing nowhere to be found.

“Come on,” Valor said, his voice lower now. “We’ll go to the alcove.”

We moved swiftly, slipping past groups of students, and entered a quiet, tucked-away space behind a stone pillar. A small fire flickered in a nearby torch, casting soft shadows along the stone walls.

I took a deep breath.

And then I told them everything.

•Grandfather’s training.

•The brutal transfiguration exercises.

•His relentless belief that emotions are a weakness.

•The upcoming trip to the Restricted Section.

•Professor Fig’s research into his wife’s disappearance.

I told them everything I could.

But not everything.

I left out Anne.

I left out Sebastian’s obsession.

I left out the desperate hunt for a cure.

Jace listened intently, his green eyes flashing with sharp curiosity and concern. When I mentioned the training, he leaned forward, hanging onto every word.

“Grandfather’s pushing you that hard?” he muttered.

I nodded.

Vix exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I,” Valor added. His voice was even, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “He’s training you the same way he trained us.”

“That’s the problem,” Jace muttered. “It’s too much. He’s always been—” He stopped himself, hesitating before shaking his head. “He’s too extreme, Jessa.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral. “He wants me to be strong.”

“He wants you to be a weapon,” Valor corrected.

That sentence hit too close to home.

I glanced at the flickering torchlight, avoiding their gazes. It wasn’t that simple.

I understood Grandfather.

I understood his fears, his philosophies.

But I also understood myself.

I wouldn’t become a cold, emotionless mage like he wanted.

I wasn’t him.

Still, I forced a small smile and said, “I can handle it.”

Jace didn’t look convinced. Vix looked ready to argue. Valor just sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“And the Restricted Section?” Vix asked, shifting the subject.

“Tomorrow night. Fig got me permission to retrieve some theory books for his research.”

Jace’s brows furrowed. “And you’re going alone?”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Then—

“Absolutely not.” Valor’s voice was sharp, his usual calm replaced with something firm. Protective.

I blinked. “Valor—”

“You’re not going alone. That’s dangerous.”

“It’s a library.”

“A cursed library.”

“It’s not cursed.”

Vix snorted. “Hogwarts itself is cursed.”

I groaned. “Look, I’ll be fine. It’s a quick trip, and Professor Fig covered for me. No one will even know I was there.”

Jace wasn’t convinced. “Then let us come with you.”

I shook my head. “Too risky. The more people, the harder it is to sneak around. I’ll be quick.”

Valor frowned. His green eyes flickered with something else—something deeper.

Concern.

“This isn’t just about the library, is it?” he asked.

I hesitated.

His gaze sharpened. “Jessa.”

I sighed, crossing my arms. “I’m fine.”

“You look exhausted.”

I rolled my eyes. “Everyone looks exhausted at Hogwarts.”

“Jessa.” His voice was firm, the way it always was when he was being the responsible older brother. “You’ve been training, sneaking around, running yourself into the ground. Have you even been sleeping?”

I hesitated.

Jace, Vix, and Valor exchanged a look.

I could feel the lecture coming.

I groaned, running a hand down my face. “Don’t gang up on me. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Vix asked. “Because from where we’re standing, it looks like you’re tearing yourself apart.”

I opened my mouth to argue—

But stopped.

Because I couldn’t argue.

Because they weren’t wrong.

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. “Look, after tomorrow, I’ll rest, alright? I promise.”

Valor’s gaze softened slightly. But only slightly.

“…You better.”

Jace still looked frustrated, but sighed. “If you die in the Restricted Section, I’m haunting you.”

I smirked. “Duly noted.”

For now, it would have to be enough.

For now, they didn’t need to know everything.
__

I parted ways with my brothers, their words still weighing on my mind, and made my way toward Charms class.

Despite their concerns, despite my exhaustion, my thoughts remained stuck on Magical Theory class.

The intent behind spells.

How magic bent to the caster’s will.

How Crucio only worked if you truly wanted to cause pain.

A shiver crawled up my spine.

Sebastian… had wanted to hurt me.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around my books. How? How had he even learned the Unforgivable? Who had taught him?

And worse—what else had he learned?

I stepped into the classroom, shaking away my thoughts. Not now.

I needed to focus.

The Charms classroom was already filling up, students chatting as they settled into their seats. The room was structured differently from other classes. Instead of rows, the desks were divided into two long sections facing each other, making it impossible to ignore whoever sat across from you.

Before I could choose a seat, Natty caught my wrist and pulled me beside her.

“Jessa! Sit with me.”

I barely had time to react before plopping into the chair next to her.

Poppy and Samantha slid into seats beside us, forming our usual cluster.

I exhaled, adjusting my robes and lifting my gaze.

And that’s when I saw them.

Sebastian and Ominis.

Seated directly across from us.

I forced a small smile.

They both returned it, but weakly.

Their expressions were tired, strained.

And I knew exactly why.

Natty leaned in, lowering her voice. “They’ve been acting strange since Magical Theory.”

I sighed. “They’ve always been strange.”

Natty hummed in agreement but didn’t look convinced.

Before we could discuss it further, the classroom door swung open, and Professor Rowan entered with a confident stride.

“Good afternoon, class!” he greeted, clapping his hands together. “Today, we will be focusing on a particularly useful charm—one that, if used correctly, can turn the tide in duels, investigations, and… if you’re particularly mischievous, everyday life.”

The class perked up instantly.

Even Sebastian, despite his heavy thoughts, seemed intrigued.

“The Confundus Charm.”

I grinned. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Professor Rowan waved his wand, and a sentence appeared on the board:

“Confundus causes confusion in the target, making them susceptible to suggestion or disoriented in thought.”

“In essence, this spell makes people easier to fool, mislead, or… persuade, shall we say?” he continued with a knowing smirk.

Several students perked up.

Everett grinned. “Professor, are you implying we could use this spell for mischief?”

Professor Rowan raised a brow. “I would never imply such a thing.”

Laughter rippled through the class.

“However,” he added, his smirk growing, “if one were to use it improperly, let’s say… attempting to make a professor forget that an essay was due—well, they might find themselves in detention.”

Everett immediately deflated.

Sebastian snorted. Ominis just shook his head.

Professor Rowan cleared his throat and flicked his wand again, making the board shift to display the wand movement for Confundus—a small, deliberate swirl followed by a flick.

“Now then, let’s begin.”
___

Professor Rowan flicked his wand again, and the words on the board shifted:

“The Confundus Charm requires precision, confidence, and intent. A half-hearted attempt will merely leave your target mildly dazed. A successful cast will render them truly disoriented, leaving them vulnerable to influence.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing the front of the classroom.

“Now, before we begin casting, let’s discuss the practical applications of Confundus. What are some ways this spell might be useful?”

A few hands went up immediately.

Everett, still grinning from before, spoke first. “Cheating in Quidditch! If you confund the Keeper, they might not notice the Quaffle flying right past them.”

The class chuckled, though Professor Rowan merely raised a brow.

“A creative, if entirely illegal, application. Five points from Ravenclaw for that answer, Everett.”

Everett groaned, but his grin never faltered.

Samantha raised her hand next. “It could be used in duels, to make your opponent cast the wrong spell!”

Professor Rowan nodded approvingly. “Much better. Confundus can indeed be a powerful tool in dueling, provided one is quick enough to cast it before their opponent retaliates.”

Leander Prewett lifted his chin. “Surely it would also work on creatures? If a magical beast is aggressive, could this charm confuse it long enough for someone to escape?”

I saw Poppy nodding eagerly beside me.

Professor Rowan tapped his chin. “An excellent point. Some creatures with lower magical resistance may indeed be affected, though highly intelligent beasts—like dragons—are far less susceptible. That being said, in a moment of desperation, it could buy you time.”

Then, Sebastian’s hand rose.

I stilled.

Professor Rowan gestured for him to speak, and Sebastian leaned forward, his voice measured.

“What about Confundus in a duel against someone wielding an Unforgivable? If their intent is already unwavering, would this spell even work?”

The class fell quiet.

Professor Rowan studied Sebastian for a moment, before replying carefully.

“That depends. The Unforgivables require absolute conviction. However, magic—at its core—is still susceptible to external influence. If you could Confund your opponent in just the right moment, before they completed their incantation, you might disrupt their focus.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, but I could see his mind racing.

Ominis, sitting beside him, visibly stiffened.

I felt my pulse quicken.

This wasn’t just a hypothetical for Sebastian.

He was thinking about how to counter the Unforgivable Curses.

Professor Rowan clapped his hands together, dispelling the tension. “Enough theory! Time for practicals.”

He waved his wand, and small stone figurines appeared before each of us—miniature knights, chess pieces, and tiny statues.

“For today’s exercise, you will Confund your target into performing a simple action. These enchanted objects will follow whatever command you give them—provided your Confundus is strong enough.”

Excitement buzzed in the room.

I gripped my wand, staring at the small knight figurine in front of me.

Professor Rowan gave us a final nod. “Wands at the ready. Confundo!”

A murmur of Confundo! spread through the classroom.

Immediately, I flicked my wand in the precise motion Professor Rowan had demonstrated—a controlled swirl, then a flick.

“Confundo!”

A shimmer of blue light enveloped my knight.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then—it suddenly lifted its tiny sword and saluted me.

I grinned. Success.

Poppy let out a small cheer beside me as her own figure—a tiny dragon—began flapping its stone wings awkwardly.

Across from me, Sebastian smirked as his knight started spinning in circles, completely disoriented.

Ominis, who had been reluctant at first, cast his spell with quiet precision. The figurine in front of him—a small hawk—tilted its head before hopping into his palm and perching there, confused.

I nudged his arm. “That’s adorable.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not quite as impressive as an actual duel, but I suppose it works.”

Professor Rowan walked between the rows of students, observing and correcting wand movements. When he reached Leander, the boy was grumbling in frustration—his figurine refused to move.

“Prewett, try again. More intent. More focus.”

Leander’s jaw tightened.

“Confundo!”

This time, his statue staggered forward—but wobbled straight off the desk and hit the floor.

A few students snickered.

“You nearly had it, but you lacked conviction. Again.”

Leander’s frustration was palpable.

I looked away, focusing on perfecting my own spell.

Professor Rowan gave us several more rounds to test different commands. Some students made their statues dance, others had them march in place. Everett, of course, made his do an elaborate tap-dance, earning a bemused sigh from the professor.

By the time class ended, the room was full of mildly confused stone creatures wandering about.

Professor Rowan dismissed us with a reminder to practice the charm before next class.

As I packed up my books, I felt a familiar weight settle back onto my shoulders.

The lesson was over.

But my night was only just beginning.
____

The Great Hall buzzed with its usual evening energy, the golden candlelight flickering above as students settled in for dinner. Plates filled themselves, goblets brimmed with pumpkin juice, and the air smelled of roasted meats, fresh bread, and sweet puddings.

We took our usual spots at the Ravenclaw table, though—as always—Sebastian and Ominis had somehow managed to infiltrate our section.

As I reached for a roll, Sebastian silently placed food on my plate, his movements so casual that I might not have noticed had I not been watching him. A spoonful of vegetables, a small portion of roasted potatoes—he pretended to be engrossed in his own meal, but I wasn’t fooled.

At the same time, Ominis reached for the jug of juice, pouring me a full glass with practiced ease.

I raised an arched eyebrow, my eyes flicking between them.

“Thank you, gentlemen.” I said dryly, though my lips twitched in amusement.

Sebastian shrugged, stabbing at his food as if he hadn’t done anything at all. Ominis merely took a sip of his drink, feigning innocence.

Across from me, Poppy dramatically slumped forward onto the table, her forehead resting against her folded arms.

I reached over and lightly poked her head. “Don’t do that, Pops. You’ll get indigestion.”

Without lifting her head, she grinned tiredly. “Yes, mother—”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could counter, she groaned, “It’s just—there’s too much homework! I might not have time for the beasts.”

I softened.

That was genuine distress coming from her.

“I’ll help you,” I offered.

Poppy immediately perked up, her head snapping up from the table. “Really?”

I chuckled. “Yes. Just tell me when.”

She beamed. “I will! Thank you, Jessa!”

Our conversation continued, laughter and stories weaving through the air as we recounted our classes, our failed (and successful) attempts at spells, and our growing pile of assignments.

Then, before Samantha could turn on me with teasing, I struck first.

I turned to her with a smirk. “You know, Sam, I’ve noticed something interesting lately.”

Samantha, mid-bite of mashed potatoes, froze. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What?”

I grinned, leaning forward.

“You and Leander have been awfully close lately.”

Her fork paused mid-air.

Sebastian choked on his drink.

Ominis, who had been stirring his soup absentmindedly, suddenly looked interested.

Samantha spluttered. “We are NOT! He’s insufferable! He argues with me about everything!”

I feigned deep thought, tapping my chin. “Is that so? Because it seems to me that you two argue a lot—”

Natty and Poppy leaned in, grinning.

“—but you never actually seem to leave each other alone.”

Poppy gasped dramatically, nudging Samantha. “It’s the classic academic rivalry-to-lovers trope, Sam. Just admit it.”

Samantha turned red. “Oh, shove off, Sweeting!”

I grinned victoriously and turned my sights onto my next victim.

I glanced at Natty, who had been enjoying Samantha’s suffering a little too much.

“And Natty, dear—” I sing-songed.

Her amusement immediately faded, and she went rigid. “What?”

“Amit has been stealing glances at you.”

She blanched. “He has not!”

“Oh, he has,” I said knowingly, taking a sip of my juice.

Poppy nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve seen it too! He always looks at you during Astronomy!”

Natty frowned, her face betraying her inner war between denial and the undeniable evidence.

Sebastian, now recovered from his earlier near-death choking, leaned in with a smirk. “Amit Thakkar, huh? Natty, I didn’t know you had a thing for star charts and constellations.”

Ominis, ever the instigator, added, “Perhaps he wants to name a star after her.”

Natty, now scarlet, covered her face. “You lot are impossible.”

I grinned, feeling exceedingly pleased with myself.

Samantha, still recovering from her own attack, suddenly snatched up her fork like a weapon.

“You just wait, Valancaire.” She pointed it at me, her eyes narrowing. “Revenge will come.”

I merely waved her off, my heart light with laughter.

__

We parted ways from the Great Hall, leaving behind the promise of revenge from Samantha and Natty, who were still reeling from my teasing.

I turned my attention to Ominis, catching his subtle nod. A silent understanding passed between us—we would meet later.

Sebastian, ever the suspicious one, narrowed his eyes as he glanced between us.

“Enjoy helping Professor Sharp, Jessa,” he drawled, his voice heavy with disbelief.

Ominis, as smooth as ever, only tilted his head with a knowing smirk.

I forced a bright smile, nodding. “Oh, I will. You know how much I love brewing potions at night.”

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair, but didn’t push further.

Satisfied that we wouldn’t be interrogated further, we split up—Samantha went to the library to work on her endless homework while I returned to the dormitory to prepare for our adventure.

I stood in front of my wardrobe, flipping through the many outfits my mother had forced into my trunk—silk, lace, unnecessarily extravagant robes… None of them were suited for tonight.

Fortunately, I had come prepared.

From the bottom of my trunk, I pulled out a set of practical traveling clothes—ones I had bought at Gladrags for occasions like this. A fitted tunic, durable trousers, sturdy boots. Comfortable and functional.

I tied my hair back, ensuring it wouldn’t obscure my vision, and checked my satchel for essentials. My wand, a few extra vials of Wiggenweld Potion, a small knife, and my broom—a custom model my mother had commissioned, made for stability and speed.

Satisfied, I slipped out of the dormitory, casting Disillusionment to avoid detection.

The castle was quiet, the halls dimly lit by torches as I carefully navigated my way to the Room of Requirement.

As I entered, Ominis was already there, waiting.

And I nearly lost my train of thought.

He had changed for the mission, dressed in a black tunic that fit him far too well—the fabric smooth against his frame, the sleeves elegantly fitted, the collar just loose enough to give a glimpse of his collarbone.

I stared a little too long.

Ominis turned toward me, sensing my presence immediately.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

I blinked, snapping out of it.

“No—no, Ominis.” I stammered, quickly shaking my head. “Nothing at all.”

His lips curved into an amused smirk. “If you say so.”

I cleared my throat and quickly busied myself as he handed me a satchel.

“Everything we need is in here,” he explained. “Potions, plants, even food.”

I peered inside, impressed by how neatly packed everything was.

I grinned. “You’re so organized, my knight.”

Ominis huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course, my damsel. Let’s not die due to unpreparedness.”

I chuckled, securing the satchel before gesturing toward my broom. “This will take us to the Forbidden Forest in no time.”

Ominis reached out, running his hand along the polished handle. “A personal broom?”

“Yes. My mother bought it for me.” I rolled my eyes. “Apparently, it was ‘designed for stability’—her words, not mine.”

“That might be the first useful thing she’s done,” he mused.

I smirked, mounting the broom. “Come on, let’s go.”

With the Disillusionment Charm still active, we stealthily exited Hogwarts, moving swiftly through the quiet grounds until we reached the edge of the forest.

Once we were clear, I mounted the broom, patting the space behind me.

Ominis hesitated. “Are you sure this thing is sturdy enough for two?”

I grinned. “Are you doubting my mother’s extravagant taste? This broom could probably carry three.”

He muttered something under his breath but reluctantly climbed on behind me, his hands hesitantly settling on my waist.

As we lifted off the ground, his grip tightened immediately.

I chuckled, feeling his fingers tense against my tunic. “Hold tight, my knight.”

“Jessa, I swear—”

I laughed, tilting the broom forward as we soared into the sky, the cool night air rushing past us as we followed Deek’s map toward the Forbidden Forest.

Our adventure had begun.
___

The night sky stretched above us as we flew southeast of Hogwarts, the wind rushing past as we followed the map Deek had given us. The Forbidden Forest loomed ahead, its dark canopy swallowing the moonlight as we descended toward our destination.

Ominis held onto me firmly, his grip steady but cautious. He was trusting me to guide us safely, and that trust settled like a quiet warmth in my chest.

“We’re close,” I murmured, angling the broom lower as we skimmed above the treetops. The dense foliage gave way to a rocky clearing, where a jagged outcropping of stone marked the entrance to a cave.

But something was wrong.

As we landed, I took in the sight before me—a heavy wooden barricade blocked the entrance.

My fingers clenched around my wand as my suspicion solidified into certainty. “Barricades,” I hissed. “I bet it was the poachers.”

Ominis exhaled sharply. “Then we need to be careful. If they’re here, they won’t take kindly to intruders.”

His grip on his wand tightened. He was tense—not out of fear, but because he knew what poachers were capable of. He had seen firsthand what they did to rare creatures, the cruelty they carried in their hearts.

I turned to him, meeting his unseeing gaze. “Disillusionment Charm. We go in quietly.”

He nodded, and together we vanished from sight, the magic settling over us like a thin, protective veil.

Carefully, we approached the barricade.

I ran my fingers over the rough wooden planks, feeling the hastily placed nails and reinforcement spells woven into them. It wasn’t a simple blockade—this was designed to keep something in.

Or more likely, keep others out.

The Phoenix was in there.

With measured movements, we pried just enough boards loose to slip through without making a sound. The moment we entered the cave, a low, eerie glow of torchlight flickered against the damp stone walls.

And then—we saw them.

A group of five poachers stood guard near the entrance, their voices low but sharp with arrogance. Their cloaks bore the familiar insignia of the group that had been terrorizing Hogwarts’ creatures for years.

One of them, a burly wizard with a jagged scar down his cheek, chuckled darkly.

“We’ll fetch a good price for this one, eh? If it doesn’t incinerate itself first.”

My blood boiled.

They found the Phoenix.

I felt Ominis stiffen beside me, his jaw tightening as he tilted his head slightly, listening. He was gauging their positions, their spacing, their weak points.

One of the poachers suddenly stopped talking.

I froze.

He turned his head slightly in our direction, eyes narrowing.

“Did you hear that?”

My breath hitched.

For a tense moment, silence stretched between us all.

Then Ominis—his hand brushing lightly against mine—gave the smallest nod. A signal.

Invisibility potion.

I carefully reached into my satchel, uncorking the small vials without making a sound. We downed them in unison, the potion making us truly undetectable.

The poacher lingered, still watching, but after a few moments, he shrugged and turned back to his conversation.

Close call.

Ominis leaned in, whispering so softly I barely heard him.

“What’s the plan?”

I took a deep breath, a wicked grin forming.

“We release the horde.”

He went still for a second. Then—a smirk.

“Good Call, Jessa.”

I silently pulled out a handful of chomping cabbage seeds and, with careful precision, threw them toward the poachers.

The moment they hit the ground, they sprang to life.

Dozens of venomous green cabbages erupted from the floor, their jagged leaves snapping with hungry fervor.

The first poacher barely had time to register the attack before a cabbage lunged for his face.

“WHAT THE—?!”

Chaos exploded in the cave.

One poacher was knocked flat as a particularly aggressive cabbage clamped onto his leg, dragging him down. Another shrieked as several latched onto his arms, biting viciously.

I covered my mouth, barely suppressing a laugh.

The scarred leader barked orders, trying to cast spells, but for every one he incinerated, two more sprouted in its place.

They were losing.

The first challenge to getting to the Phoenix? Removed.

Well… at least for us.
__

The cave sloped upward, a winding ascent that felt unnatural—as if the mountain itself had hollowed out a path for something sacred. The deeper we went, the steeper the incline became, leading us through a maze of jagged rock formations and glowing veins of minerals embedded in the stone.

I should have felt hopeful, knowing we were close.

Instead, dread curled in my stomach.

I whispered, “Ominis… stay vigilant.”

His wand gripped tightly, he gave a small nod. “Silence is not a good thing.”

We had not encountered any other poachers since the first group had been devoured by our ferocious cabbages—and that was suspicious.

I hated when enemies made things too easy.

Then, my eyes caught something ahead—a nest.

A massive twisting formation of gold-dusted branches and enchanted embers. The cave’s air shimmered around it, alive with latent magic.

The Phoenix’s nest.

But—it was empty.

My heartbeat quickened.

Where was the Phoenix?

Ominis and I inched closer, wands drawn, every step careful, every breath held.

Then—a spell shot through the air.

“FINITE INCANTATEM!”

The magic tore through the cave, dispelling the effects of our invisibility potion instantly.

Drats.

Ominis and I barely had time to react before they emerged.

A hoard of poachers surrounded us, their leader stepping forward with a slow, mocking clap.

“Well, well,” he sneered. “Can’t believe you defeated my men with cabbages.”

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “We were waiting for you.”

I hissed under my breath. “Of course you were.”

The leader smirked, his voice dripping with malice. “No one alive should know the Phoenix’s location. So young… and yet, you’ll die here.”

The poachers moved in, wands raised.

I could feel Ominis tense beside me, his jaw clenched.

I took a step closer to him, whispering, “Ominis, we stick to each other’s backs. We do not separate.”

His grip on his wand tightened. “I agree.”

And then—the battle began.

The first hexes were fired instantly—red and green streaks of magic slicing through the air like arrows in a warzone.

I deflected the first curse aimed at me, twisting out of the way as I countered with a precise Expulso, sending a poacher flying into the cave wall.

Ominis, despite his blindness, was deadly precise.

His wand moved with flawless precision, every spell landing exactly where it needed to.

A poacher lunged at him—bad decision.

“DEPULSO!”

A shockwave of magic erupted from Ominis’ wand, blasting the attacker into another wizard, knocking them both unconscious.

He turned slightly, listening to the movement around him, and then—“STUPEFY.”

Another poacher dropped instantly, hit between the eyes.

Merlin’s beard.

He was reading the battlefield with sound alone.

I, on the other hand, was fighting too well.

Every movement felt sharper, faster, stronger.

My Grandfather’s training had paid off.

One poacher aimed a curse at me—I dodged. Another tried to grab me—I whirled, hitting him with a stunning spell before he could react.

A third poacher sneered, raising his wand. “Bomb—”

“GLACIUS!”

Ice exploded from my wand, freezing him in place before he could even finish his incantation.

The last of the poachers collapsed, groaning in pain.

All that remained was the leader.

I knew immediately—he was different.

Unlike his men, he did not look afraid. He stood tall, his presence suffocating with sheer malice.

His wand hand was relaxed, yet his entire body radiated power.

A dark wizard.

He exhaled slowly, surveying the battlefield of his fallen men. Then—he laughed.

“Pathetic,” he muttered. “They were too weak.”

Then, his cold eyes flicked to Ominis.

He moved first.

A flick of his wand—“DIFFINDO!”

A sharp, slicing curse cut through the air, striking Ominis’ side before he could fully dodge.

He went down.

My breath caught in my throat.

“Ominis!” I tried to move toward him, but the leader’s wand flicked again—a nonverbal spell, blocking my path.

He smirked.

“Don’t worry. He’s alive… for now.”

Ominis gritted his teeth, struggling to push himself up. His voice was a low hiss of fury.

“Don’t touch her.”

The leader chuckled. “Oh? Protective, are we?”

He turned back to me, his eyes glinting with something predatory.

“You’re an interesting one. I won’t kill you easily.”

His lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“I have to torture you first—to pay for my men’s lives.”

My stomach twisted as he winked.

“I’ll save you for last, beautiful girl.”

Ominis, despite his injury, tried to rise.

He raised his wand. “You—”

The dark wizard’s wand flicked—“CRUCIO.”

No.

No, you will not hurt him with that curse.

Something inside me cracked.

The air shuddered around us, my magic coiling—twisting—surging.

I felt everything.

The weight of my Grandfather’s training, the power in my bloodline, the raw magic I had been sharpening day after day.

And then—I reached for it.

A pulse of magic radiated outward.

The cave trembled.

Lightning gathered at my fingertips.

The dark wizard’s eyes widened. “What—”

Thunder cracked.

A bolt of lightning ripped from my wand, striking him square in the chest.

His scream echoed through the cavern.

The magic consumed him.

A blinding surge of white-hot energy erupted, the force sending dust and debris cascading from the ceiling.

When the light faded—

He was dead.

Burned. Destroyed. Gone.

The air around me hummed, my heartbeat racing.

I gasped, my body shaking from the sheer force of the magic I had just wielded.

Ominis, his face pale, was staring in my direction.

“…Jessa?”

I turned to him, still breathless.
___

I immediately ran to Ominis, my breath still unsteady from the surge of power I had just unleashed.

He was still on the ground, his robes torn and stained with blood from the Diffindo wound he had taken. Too much blood.

Too much.

“Ominis!” I dropped to my knees beside him, hands shaking as I rummaged through my satchel, grasping at the familiar cool glass of a Wiggenweld potion.

I quickly uncorked it and pressed it to his lips. “Drink.”

He did not protest, but I could feel his confusion, his breath still shallow as he obeyed.

As the potion worked, I watched in relief as the wound on his side began to mend itself, skin knitting back together, color slowly returning to his pale complexion.

I let out a shaky sigh.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly, scanning him for any other wounds I might have missed.

Ominis, still clearly bewildered, blinked slowly, his breathing steadying.

“Yes, Jessa. I’m fine.”

A pause.

Then his hands moved, one of them coming up to cup my face.

His thumb brushed my cheek, tracing where sweat and dust had settled from the battle. But I knew that wasn’t what he was truly searching for.

His voice was gentle, but searching.

“You. Are you okay?”

I froze.

I had just ended a man using my power.

Lightning.

Raw magic.

And I had done it without hesitation.

Physically? I was fine.

Mentally? I didn’t know.

I exhaled sharply, swallowing down the emotions clawing up my throat.

“Physically, I am fine, Ominis.”

I paused. Then, quieter:

“But what I did…”

Ominis’ brows furrowed. “That… power you used. It’s the same one from Hogsmeade, isn’t it?”

I nodded, eyes flickering toward the scorched remnants of the poacher’s body.

“Yes. It is.”

Ominis was quiet for a moment, fingers still resting against my cheek.

Then, he sighed.

“You did what you had to do.”

I looked at him, but he continued before I could protest.

“It was either us… or him, Jessa.”

His voice was gentle, but firm. He was grounding me, trying to bring me back to reality before my thoughts consumed me.

I nodded slowly, breathing through it.

Right. We did not have time to dwell on this.

Not now.

I pulled away, reaching for my wand.

“Let’s go. We need to find the Phoenix before anyone else comes.”

But just as we started to move—

A warm gust of air swept over us.

I froze.

The air around us seemed to shift, the cave glowing suddenly with a golden hue.

A soft, ethereal light filtered from above, illuminating the nest—and then, with a burst of heat, something moved.

Ominis, sensing my sudden stillness, frowned. “Jessa?”

I did not answer.

Because there it was.

The Phoenix.

It descended from above, its wings spread wide, shimmering like molten gold.

The very air around it hummed with warmth, a presence so majestic, so ancient that for a moment—I forgot to breathe.

Ominis, hearing my silence, whispered, “What? What is it?”

I swallowed, barely able to find my voice.

“Ominis… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

I described it to him, voice hushed in reverence:

A great bird, its feathers shifting between ruby red and liquid gold, as if fire itself had taken form. Its eyes—intelligent, knowing—pierced through the shadows, radiating wisdom older than time.

It hovered briefly, beating its massive wings, before landing gracefully on its empty nest.

For a moment, it simply stared at us.

Then, before I could even move—

It incinerated.

“What?!” I gasped, stumbling backward.

Flames erupted, consuming the Phoenix entirely.

All that remained was a pile of glowing ash.

Ominis’ head whipped toward me, sensing my sudden panic. “What happened?!”

I stared in disbelief.

“It… it just… burned.”

Ominis was quiet for a moment. Then, realization dawned.

His lips parted slightly. “It’s being reborn.”

I turned back to the smoldering nest, my breath caught in my throat.

And there—

Among the glowing embers, nestled in the ashes—

A baby Phoenix.

Its tiny form trembled, delicate wings still damp with remnants of fire and magic.

“Merlin,” I whispered.

Slowly, I knelt, reaching for the Nab-Sack Deek had given us.

The baby Phoenix made a soft, musical chirp—a sound so impossibly pure, it felt like a melody woven into the air itself.

I hesitated.

Then, with the gentlest touch, I scooped him up.

He was warm.

Alive.

I held him close, feeling the gentle pulse of magic in his tiny body.

Ominis stayed still, listening, as if he could hear the Phoenix’s magic resonating through the cave.

“…Is it safe?” he asked softly.

I exhaled, holding the delicate creature against my chest.

“Yes.”

Ominis nodded, his posture finally relaxing.

“Then let’s get out of here before more poachers come.”

I quickly gathered the leftover ashes, knowing Deek would need them for the sanctuary.

Then, securing the baby Phoenix in the Nab-Sack, Ominis and I turned toward the exit.

We moved fast, our footsteps echoing as we hurriedly left the cavern, retracing our path to the entrance.

As soon as we emerged into the cold night air, I grabbed my broom.

“Hold on, Ominis.”

He wordlessly wrapped his arms around me, steadying himself as we mounted the broom.

I kicked off, sending us soaring back toward Hogwarts.

As we flew, I felt the tiny warmth of the Phoenix inside the Nab-Sack, curled up against my heart.

It had been a battle.

But we had saved him.

And somehow, in that moment, I felt that maybe—just maybe—the Phoenix had saved me too.
___

By the time Ominis and I stumbled into the Room of Requirement, we were completely disheveled—clothes covered in dust and grime, the lingering scent of fire and battle still clinging to us.

We had barely managed to hurry out of the Forbidden Forest without another encounter, but our bodies were heavy with exhaustion.

Deek, ever the watchful caretaker, scurried toward us the moment we entered.

“Mr. Gaunt, Miss Valancaire—are you alright?”

His wide eyes darted over us, concerned.

I nodded, my limbs aching but my heart lighter than before.

“We got it, Deek,” I said, smiling weakly as I gently clutched the Nab-Sack.

Deek’s ears perked up, and without hesitation, we hurried inside the Vivarium.

As soon as we stepped into the expansive sanctuary, the Room of Requirement reacted.

The air shimmered, the very space rearranging itself to accommodate our precious cargo.

A grand rock formation appeared in the center, nestled within a warm bed of golden sand—the perfect place for the Phoenix’s nest.

My heart swelled at the sight.

I stepped forward and slowly opened the Nab-Sack.

A faint, glowing light emerged as the baby Phoenix fluttered out, landing on the rock with surprising grace.

It looked around with its tiny, brilliant eyes, wings still damp with embers of new life.

Deek gasped, his voice filled with pure wonder.

“Oh my! A real Phoenix… how rare… how magnificent!”

He pressed his hands together, nearly trembling with excitement.

“Thank you for saving it. I will help take good care of it!”

I smiled, watching as the little Phoenix nestled into its new home.

“Thank you for telling us about it, Deek.”

Deek simply beamed, practically vibrating with pride as he observed the rare creature.

A Quiet Moment

With our mission complete, Ominis and I finally collapsed into the tea area, sinking into the cushioned seats.

Deek, always attentive, poured us tea without even needing to be asked.

I cradled the cup between my hands, feeling the warmth seep into my fingers, grounding me after everything we had just been through.

Ominis, mirroring my exhaustion, sighed as he leaned back in his chair.

He took a slow sip, then said:

“One down. Four to go.”

His voice was calm, but there was an edge of fatigue beneath it.

I nodded, exhaling. “And the hardest is yet to come.”

We sat in companionable silence for a moment, letting the weight of the night settle over us.

Eventually, Ominis turned to me, his expression serious.

“Jessa… do you still want to continue?”

There was no hesitation in my response.

“Yes.”

The conviction in my voice surprised even me.

Ominis studied me for a moment before nodding.

Then, quieter:

“So do I.”

A pause.

Then his voice softened.

“I will not let you do this alone.”

My chest ached at the sincerity in his words.

I turned my head toward him, offering the smallest smile.

“I appreciate that, Ominis.”

We both finished our tea, the weight of our mission lingering between us.

After a while, we agreed to part ways and rest—our bodies demanding recovery.

But as Ominis walked toward the exit, I remained seated.

Because I would not rest.

I had one more place to be tonight.

I needed to go to the Keep.
___

I arrived at the Keep, my senses alert, expecting attacks.

None came.

Instead, my grandfather stood at the entrance, waiting. His piercing gaze assessed me the moment I landed, and I knew he saw right through me.

His sharp blue eyes flickered over my disheveled form—my dust-covered clothes, the lingering tremble in my fingers, and the weight hanging over me like a shroud.

He exhaled deeply and then simply said:

“You look like you’ve had your share of adventure tonight.”

I glanced down, unable to meet his eyes.

Of course, he noticed.

Without another word, he turned and ushered me inside.

We sat in the library, surrounded by towering shelves of old tomes, the scent of parchment and aged ink familiar and comforting.

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls.

Grandfather sat across from me, posture straight, hands clasped in his lap.

He studied me for a moment, and then, in his usual direct and unwavering tone, he asked:

“What is it?”

I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat.

My hands curled into fists, knuckles white.

Finally, I forced the words out, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I… I used the lightning.”

His expression didn’t change, but I saw the way his fingers subtly tightened over the armrest of his chair.

I swallowed, forcing myself to continue.

“My Ancient Magic… I used it.”

The words felt foreign—too heavy, too final.

My breath hitched, and before I could stop myself, I admitted:

“I ended a man’s life, Grandfather.”

The confession sat between us, thick and unshakable.

I felt my body tremble as I tried to comprehend the weight of my actions.

“I hadn’t really thought about it before.”

The words tumbled out, unsteady, unsure.

“The lives that would be sacrificed along the way.”

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms.

“I didn’t think about the troll that day in Hogsmeade… it didn’t die when I used my magic. But this time, this magic I used… it ended a dark wizard, Grandfather.”

Silence.

A silence so profound it made the crackling fire sound deafening.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my grandfather spoke.

“I will not ask why you were dueling a dark wizard.”

His tone was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something else beneath it.

“And I did not expect to have this conversation with you so soon.”

He leaned forward, folding his hands in front of him, his voice measured and grave.

“Death, Jessa, is an unavoidable consequence of power.”

His eyes bore into mine, unrelenting.

“You have been given something far beyond ordinary magic. And with that comes responsibility—an understanding that your actions will shape the course of many lives, including your own.”

I bit my lip, my breathing uneven.

He continued.

“What you are feeling now? This guilt, this doubt—hold onto it.”

That made me look up at him, confused.

He met my gaze, unwavering.

“It reminds you that you are not invincible.”

His voice softened—not in pity, but in wisdom.

“Those who kill without hesitation, who never question the weight of a life—those are the ones who have truly lost themselves.”

I swallowed hard.

“But Grandfather, does that justify it? Does the end truly justify the means?”

He exhaled slowly, as if choosing his words carefully.

“The end justifies the means only if you can live with the choices you have made.”

His gaze sharpened.

“If you hesitate, if you regret—then you must reflect. But you must also accept that there are times when there is no other choice.”

His voice deepened, carrying the weight of years of experience.

“You were in a battle. It was either him or you”

 Or Ominis.

His words struck me like a blow.

I clenched my jaw, my thoughts racing.

Ominis.

Ominis had been wounded. That poacher had been ready to cast Crucio on him.

My chest tightened.

If I hadn’t done it, if I had hesitated—

Would Ominis still be alive?

“This is the price of power, Jessa.” Grandfather’s voice was steady. “You cannot wield it blindly. You must learn control. You must understand the weight of every spell you cast, every choice you make.”

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.

“What if I lose myself?” I whispered.

He did not hesitate.

“Then you will no longer be Jessa Valancaire.”

My breath hitched.

He leaned closer, his gaze piercing.

“That is why you must remember who you are. The moment you forget, the moment you believe you are above the consequences of your power—that is the moment you have lost.”

He let those words settle.

Then, softer now, he added:

“The fact that you are questioning this, the fact that it unsettles you… it means you are still you.”

My hands relaxed.

I took a deep breath, allowing his words to sink in.

The doubt, the fear—it was still there.

But now, it wasn’t alone.

There was also understanding.

After a long moment, my grandfather leaned back in his chair, observing me.

“Now.”

His voice returned to its usual sharpness.

“Let us focus on control. Your magic will only grow stronger. You must master it, or it will master you.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.
___

The castle was eerily quiet as I slipped through the corridors, my steps light but my thoughts heavy.

It was well past midnight.

I was simply returning.

And yet… the moment I stepped into my dormitory, I felt as if I were stepping into someone else’s life.

The dim candlelight flickered across the room, casting soft golden hues over the sleeping figure of Samantha.

She was curled beneath her blankets, her arms wrapped around something, clutching it to her chest.

I squinted.

The bloody manual my mother had sent me.

A tired chuckle escaped my lips.

“Of course,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

She is never going to let this go.

I placed my bag down and stretched my sore limbs, feeling the weight of exhaustion seep into my bones.

Despite the fatigue, my mind remained restless.

My gaze drifted toward my vanity, where the silvered mirror reflected a face I almost did not recognize.

Disheveled. Exhausted. Haunted.

The blue eyes of Valancaire stared back at me.

I stepped closer.

My fingers brushed over the edge of the mirror, tracing the faint circles beneath my eyes, the stray strands of hair that had come undone from the night’s journey, the tired lines of my expression.

Jessa Lia Valancaire.

That was the name reflected back at me.

A name with history. A name with weight. A name with purpose.

But… do I really know her?

Who is Jessa Lia Valancaire without the burden of expectation?

Without the duty? Without the training? Without the suffocating pressure of being something greater than herself?

A quiet, bitter thought settled in my chest.

What am I, if not the Daughter of Valancaire?

What is left of me, if I strip away the responsibilities, the destiny others have shoved onto my shoulders?

Who would I be… if I were simply allowed to just be?

I exhaled slowly, feeling a dull ache settle deep within me.

A weight that no amount of training or magic could lift.

I turned away from the mirror.

And my eyes landed on the journal.

Isidora’s journal.

I reached for it, flipping it open, my fingertips brushing against the delicate parchment.

Still no response.

Still nothing.

The silence of the pages felt almost… mocking.

I huffed a quiet sigh and placed it back down.

It felt as if everything I reached for kept slipping through my fingers.

As if no matter how much I learned, no matter how much I fought, I was still…

Lost.

I forced my legs to move, making my way to the washroom. I freshened up, the warm water grounding me for just a moment, washing away the dirt, the exhaustion—but not the doubt.

Never the doubt.

By the time I slid beneath my blankets, my limbs felt heavy, but my mind still raced.

I have changed.

Since waking from my seven-year sleep, since reclaiming my memories, since stepping back into a life that was both mine and not mine.

I have done things I never thought I would.

I have fought. I have killed.

I have been reckless. I have been careful.

I have been the hunted. I have been the hunter.

I have carried too much and still not enough.

And yet… do I even know who I am?

A breath shuddered from my lips as I stared at the ceiling, letting the weight settle.

And then, finally, exhaustion won.

And I drifted into sleep.

A sleep filled with blue eyes.

With lightning.

With a name that belonged to me… and yet, did not.
___

I woke up feeling not fully rested, but better.

The events of last night still lingered at the edges of my mind, but the exhaustion had faded into something more manageable.

I stretched, yawning, when my eyes landed on something unexpected.

A freshly laid-out uniform sat neatly at the foot of my bed.

I blinked. Then, I turned to the culprit, who was already grinning.

“Samantha… are you my mother now?” I asked, amused.

She smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, I would like to be like your mother. She seems to be a very wise woman.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, Sam. I think you’re well on your way there.”

“Now go shower,” she ordered, waving her hands at me. “I shall fix your hair after, young lady.”

I rolled my eyes but complied. There was no arguing with Samantha Dale.

By the time we headed down to the Great Hall, the morning bustle was in full swing, the long tables filled with hungry students and loud chatter.

A typical Hogwarts breakfast.

We spotted our group immediately—the boys were already seated, while the girls were just about to sit.

“Morning,” they greeted.

I glanced at Ominis, who looked much more rested than last night. Good.

He poured me tea, his movements graceful and practiced.

Sebastian, predictably, was already gathering food onto my plate.

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh… thank you?”

The girls grinned.

The boys groaned.

And then—

Jace the Menace struck first.

“You know,” he sighed dramatically, “we’re starting to get jealous. No one takes care of us like that.”

I snorted. “Maybe if you weren’t such a menace—”

“No, no, it’s true,” Jace continued, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Where is my morning tea, Ominis? Where is my five-star meal, Sebastian?”

Sebastian flicked a crumb at him.

“Oi!” Jace gasped, offended. “I am starving. I am withering away! Look at me!” He held out his arms as if expecting them to vanish into thin air.

“Jace, you ate four servings at dinner last night,” Natty reminded him.

“A tragic last supper,” Jace lamented. “Before my descent into neglect and despair.”

“Tragic indeed,” Ominis muttered, sipping his tea.

Poppy giggled.

And then—the true danger revealed itself.

Samantha Dale, Agent of Chaos.

She clapped her hands, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“WE HAVE A FREE PERIOD TODAY!”

That alone was suspicious.

And then—

“LET’S READ THE MANUAL.”

I choked.

On my tea.

Sebastian slammed a hand on my back to help, but he was laughing.

The girls perked up instantly, eyes alight with unholy interest.

The boys groaned in unison.

“SAM—” I wheezed.

“Whattttttttt?” Samantha batted her lashes innocently. “Come on, let’s make it a picnic study session.”

“That actually sounds lovely,” Natty mused.

“Ooooh, yes!” Poppy chirped.

Sebastian ran a hand down his face, groaning. “I swear to Merlin—”

“Care to join us?” Sam asked the boys knowingly, tilting her head.

Immediate rejections.

“Nope. Nope. I value my sanity.” Sebastian shut it down instantly.

“I’d rather shove dragon dung up my nose,” Ominis mused calmly.

“Harsh,” Samantha pouted.

Jace grinned, leaning back. “I like suspense,” he announced. “I don’t want to be spoiled by the manual.”

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s settled then!” Samantha cheered.

The boys groaned again.

The girls looked far too excited.

And me?

I was doomed.
____

Classes passed by in a blur—until we arrived at Defense Against the Dark Arts.

And chaos immediately ensued.

Because Samantha and Leander Prewett were pummeling each other.

To be fair—it was sanctioned combat.

To be even more fair—it had completely spiraled out of control.

“Miss Dale—Mr. Prewett—THIS IS NOT A STREET BRAWL!” Professor Hecat’s voice rang out, but neither combatant paid her any mind.

The two were locked in an intense duel, dodging, countering, and hurling spells at a frightening pace.

“GET HIM, SAM!” Poppy cheered.

“LEANDER, HEX HER TO PLUTO!” Amit shouted, only for Natty to shove him.

“WHAT KIND OF SUPPORT IS THAT?!” Natty scolded.

“IT’S CALLED BALANCE,” Amit argued.

Meanwhile, the duel raged on.

Leander twisted out of the way of Expelliarmus, his wand glowing fiercely.

Samantha ducked under a Stupefy, rolling on the ground before firing a precise Flipendo that sent Leander stumbling backward.

“WOO! GO SAM!” I whooped.

Leander recovered instantly, wand sparking.

“Confringo!”

A fiery blast erupted forward.

Samantha narrowly dodged, but her robes caught a singe.

“YOU ABSOLUTE DUNCE!” Samantha roared, lunging at him with her wand.

Leander cursed.

The whole class exploded into cheers and gasps, some even placing bets.

Sebastian leaned toward me, grinning. “Ten galleons on Sam petrifying him.”

Ominis sighed. “This is not a Quidditch match, Sebastian.”

“No, but it’s entertaining.”

Before we could see who won, Professor Hecat had enough.

“BOTH OF YOU—ENOUGH!”

She flicked her wand, and Samantha and Leander were yanked apart, suspended mid-air like two misbehaving cats.

“I SAID A CONTROLLED DUEL, NOT A WAR!”

Leander had a bloody nose.

Samantha’s robes were singed.

They both glared at each other, heaving for breath.

Professor Hecat sighed deeply.

“Five points from both of you,” she declared. “And detention if you ever pull that again.”

Samantha scowled.

Leander wiped his nose, muttering, “Worth it.”

Natty and Poppy dragged Samantha back to her seat, while Amit gave Leander a thumbs up before Professor Hecat shot him a look.

And then, finally, the actual lesson began.

“Now,” Professor Hecat continued, massaging her temples, “since some of you are eager to obliterate each other, let’s put that energy to good use. Today, we will learn Deprimo—a powerful wind-based spell capable of creating shockwaves strong enough to shatter the ground.”

The class murmured excitedly.

“And as always, I require a demonstration.”

She turned immediately to Sebastian, Ominis, and me.

Oh, great.

“Gaunt, Sallow, Valancaire—you three will go first.”

Sebastian smirked.

Ominis sighed dramatically.

I just gave them a look.

“Of course we are,” I muttered.

We stepped forward, wands raised.

“Now, remember,” Professor Hecat instructed. “Deprimo requires a strong will and absolute intent. If cast properly, you will generate an air shockwave powerful enough to break stone.”

Sebastian cracked his knuckles.

Ominis adjusted his grip on his wand.

I breathed in, centering myself.

“On my mark,” Professor Hecat said. “Three—two—one—Deprimo!”

The result?

Absolute disaster.

Sebastian unleashed a blast of force so strong that it sent three desks flying, barely missing Amit, who squawked in terror.

Ominis, despite his lack of sight, controlled his spell perfectly, creating a precise shockwave that cracked the floor but didn’t destroy everything.

I, however—

Accidentally blasted an entire section of the classroom wall.

A huge gust of wind tore through the room, flipping over chairs and sending parchment flying like a hurricane had hit.

The class erupted into chaos.

“JESSA!” Samantha screamed.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Leander dove under a table.

Amit was clutching his heart.

Sebastian, cackling, dodged a rogue flying book.

Ominis, ever composed, turned to me calmly.

“Jessa—”

I gulped.

“—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” I wailed.

Professor Hecat sighed heavily, looking at the destruction we had caused.

“…Valancaire,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Stay after class.”

Sebastian laughed even harder.

__

Professor Hecat surveyed the classroom—her lips pressed in a thin line as she assessed the devastation that had just taken place.

The walls had been repaired with Reparo, but the bystanders—our poor classmates—were still in utter shock.

Amit looked like he had aged ten years.

Leander was still under the desk, refusing to come out.

Natty and Poppy, clearly holding in laughter, were failing miserably.

Sebastian, shamelessly amused, had not stopped laughing since my Deprimo incident.

And Ominis, ever the dramatic one, rubbed his temples like he had just lived through a catastrophe.

Luckily, no one was injured—except for our collective dignity.

Professor Hecat exhaled deeply, turning toward the class.

“…We should have done this lesson outside.”

The entire class nodded.

Without another word, she dismissed everyone, and my friends gathered their things quickly before rushing to the exit.

Before Samantha left, she glanced at me sympathetically. “We’ll wait for you outside, yeah?”

I nodded.

Which meant—

I was alone.

With Professor Hecat.

Dear Merlin.

I braced myself for an absolute scolding—for a long-winded lecture about how I nearly obliterated the classroom—about how my spellcasting was a danger to society and all of Hogwarts.

Instead—

She sighed, crossed her arms, and looked at me thoughtfully.

“…You have remarkable magical power, Valancaire.”

I blinked.

“…That’s not what I was expecting to hear,” I admitted.

Professor Hecat actually smirked. “Oh, don’t mistake this for praise. Your Deprimo just nearly tore apart my classroom.”

“…Yes,” I winced, recalling the disaster.

Her expression softened. “But power alone doesn’t make a great witch or wizard. Control does.”

I looked up at her, surprised.

“I noticed something about you today,” she continued. “Your magic—it doesn’t just respond to your intent. It responds to your emotions.”

I froze.

She noticed.

She knew.

Professor Hecat took a step forward. “Tell me, Valancaire. Were you feeling anything unusual before you cast your Deprimo?”

I hesitated.

And then it hit me.

I had been feeling something.

Unease.

Ever since Magical Theory—since that conversation about intent—since I realized Sebastian wanted to hurt me when he casted Crucio.

My emotions had been restless all day.

And magic reflects emotion.

“I…” I swallowed. “I suppose I was a little—distracted.”

Professor Hecat arched an eyebrow. “A little?”

“…Fine. Maybe more than a little.”

She chuckled. “Emotions are powerful, Valancaire. They can be your greatest ally—or your greatest enemy. If you want to wield your magic properly, you must learn to control it.”

Her words settled heavily in my mind.

Control.

That’s what my grandfather had been drilling into me during training.

That’s what I lacked today.

Professor Hecat was right.

“…Thank you,” I said sincerely. “For the advice.”

She nodded. “You may go now. But I expect flawless control from you next time, understood?”

I grinned. “Yes, Professor.”

And with that—I hurried out of the classroom.

Only to be ambushed by my friends, who immediately started teasing me.

Of course.
__

Samantha, the menace she was, had successfully dragged us to a beautiful clearing near the Beasts classroom.

It was the perfect location for a peaceful, innocent picnic.

Or so I thought.

The grass was lush and soft beneath our picnic blanket, and the sunlight filtered beautifully through the trees, creating a warm, serene atmosphere.

We had laid out an impressive spread—fresh pastries, delicate finger sandwiches, juicy strawberries, biscuits, and, of course, plenty of tea.

It was the perfect setting for a relaxing afternoon.

But alas, relaxation was not on the agenda.

Because Samantha Dale, Queen of Chaos, had other plans.

She cleared her throat dramatically.

“Well then,” she said, pulling out The Manual.

Poppy and Natty shifted uncomfortably beside me, already anticipating disaster.

I, on the other hand, felt dread claw up my spine.

“Samantha,” I warned, reaching for the book. “Perhaps we shouldn’t—”

She snatched it away with the agility of a Seeker.

“Oh no, Jessa,” she said sweetly. “You are not escaping this lesson.”

Poppy covered her face with her hands. “I have a terrible feeling about this.”

Natty, ever composed, looked like she was seriously debating leaving.

Samantha opened The Manual.

And all hell broke loose.

Step One: How to Get a Man’s Attention

Samantha cleared her throat.

“According to your mother, Jessa,” she began, suppressing a grin, “Men are simple creatures. Easily influenced, easily distracted, and easily ruined by a well-placed look.”

I groaned. “Merlin, please don’t read this aloud—”

“Step One: Make him think you’re not interested, even when you are.”

I choked on my tea.

Natty snorted. “That sounds incredibly manipulative.”

Samantha grinned. “I know, right? Brilliant.”

Poppy was red. “But that’s so cruel—what if he’s just confused?”

“That’s the point, Poppy,” Samantha said matter-of-factly.

I groaned into my hands.

This was a mistake.

Step Two: Identify His Type

“Oh, this is my favorite part,” Samantha said excitedly.

“According to The Manual—” she dramatically waved the book in the air “—there are three types of men.”

“Only three?” Poppy asked doubtfully.

“Only three,” Samantha confirmed.

I sighed. “Go on, then. Enlighten us.”

Samantha grinned and read aloud.

“The Three Types of Men”

•The Protector: This one will die for you. He is loyal, obsessive, and will challenge anyone who dares look at you the wrong way. Likely to carry you off dramatically in a crisis. Weakness: Emotional manipulation and teary eyes.

•The Untouchable: Cold, mysterious, composed. He acts like he doesn’t care, but secretly, he does. Will never admit he loves you until it’s almost too late. Weakness: Thoughtful gestures and mild suffering.

•The Golden Retriever: Excitable, charming, full of energy. Will make you laugh, charm you senseless, and be utterly devoted. Might actually worship you without realizing it. Weakness: Flattery and attention deprivation.

There was a long silence.

Poppy looked horrified. “Are we… categorizing them like Magical Creatures?”

Natty sighed deeply. “This is exactly the kind of thing that will get us hexed, Samantha.”

Meanwhile, I was having a crisis.

Because those descriptions sounded a little too familiar.

I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about them in relation to—

•Sebastian. (The Protector?)

•Ominis. (The Untouchable?)

•Garreth. (The Golden Retriever?)

Oh.

Oh no.

Samantha noticed my face and cackled.

“Oh? Do these seem familiar, Jessa?”

I scowled. “I will hex you, Samantha.”

She only laughed harder.

Step Three: How to Kiss and Still Be Demure

Silence fell upon us as Samantha turned the page.

She gasped.

Natty peered over curiously—then immediately turned red and turned away.

Poppy glanced at the page—and squeaked so loudly she nearly dropped her tea.

I snatched the book before I could even glimpse the page.

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

Samantha snatched it back. “Jessa, this is essential education.”

“It is utterly mortifying is what it is!”

“Oh, come on—how bad could it be?”

Natty, who had already read it, looked scarred for life.

“I—I cannot—” she buried her face in her hands. “I was not ready for this today.”

Poppy, red-faced, nodded aggressively.

“I CAN NEVER LOOK AT PEOPLE THE SAME WAY AGAIN,” she cried.

Samantha finally read it aloud.

The manual included:

•Proper posture (“Spine straight, head slightly tilted—no one wants a stiff broomstick!”)

•Head-tilting angles (“A slight angle is best—tilt too far and you’ll miss completely or worse, knock heads.”)

•Lip pressure control (“Soft at first, then adjust based on reaction—no need to cast Confringo on their face.”)

•Hand placement suggestions (“Either gently caress his face, lightly rest your hand on his chest, or, if you really want to make a statement, tangle your fingers in his hair.”)

•Breath control (“Breathe through your nose—panting like a Niffler is not elegant.”)

And then.

There was a diagram.

I wanted to die.

“Oh Merlin, this is a full-on lesson,” Samantha said, positively delighted.

I grabbed the book and slammed it shut.

“That’s enough for today!”

Poppy, still hiding her face, mumbled something incoherent.

Natty, utterly flustered, looked like she was reconsidering all of her life choices.

And Samantha?

She was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

By the time we were done, none of us could look each other in the eye.

Ever again.
___

The rest of the afternoon continued as a battle of who could survive the most embarrassment.

We were all beet red, sipping our tea far too aggressively, nibbling on pastries like they would somehow save us from our shame.

Poppy, still recovering from The Manual, shifted awkwardly before asking the one question that would send us all into oblivion.

“Have any of you had your first kiss?”

The picnic fell silent.

We exchanged glances, measuring the room.

And then—

One by one, we all shook our heads.

Poppy’s eyes widened in shock. “Wait—really?”

“Same,” she muttered quickly, looking flustered.

Natty and Samantha exchanged nervous glances.

I, already bracing myself, sensed danger.

“Do you have someone you want to kiss, Poppy?” I asked, trying to redirect the focus.

“NOOOOO!”

Poppy’s entire face turned as red as a Fizzing Whizzbee.

She looked like she wanted to evaporate on the spot.

Natty and Samantha smirked.

“Oh, Poppy,” Samantha cooed. “That was such an overreaction. Who’s the lucky fellow?”

“NO ONE. THERE IS NO LUCKY FELLOW.”

Poppy covered her face, fidgeting aggressively with her teacup.

Natty, always the composed one, sipped her tea gracefully—but I saw the pink dusting her cheeks.

I arched an eyebrow.

“I bet Sam and Natty have someone in mind.”

They both instantly flushed.

Natty, for once in her life, looked caught off guard.

Samantha?

She sputtered into her tea, coughing wildly.

I burst into laughter.

“Aha! That reaction was very telling, ladies!”

Sam, desperate to deflect, turned on me like a predator.

“Oh no, no, Jessa— let’s talk about you.”

I froze.

“Among the three, who do you think will be your first kiss?”

My soul left my body.

Poppy and Natty gasped in delight.

I tried to stammer out a response, but instead, my mind betrayed me.

Images flashed before my eyes.

I felt the heat explode on my face.

The girls?

They HOWLED.

Samantha clutched her stomach, falling over in uncontrollable laughter.

Natty shook her head, grinning.

Poppy?

Absolutely delighted.

“SHE THOUGHT ABOUT IT! SHE ACTUALLY THOUGHT ABOUT IT!”

“SHE EVEN BLUSHED!!”

“OH MERLIN, WHO WAS IT?! WHO POPPED INTO YOUR HEAD?!”

I buried my face in my hands.

“YOU GUYS ARE EVIL.”

Samantha grinned wickedly.

“Jessa, darling,” she said, scooting closer. “Your reaction was suspiciously dramatic.”

Natty nodded sagely. “Indeed. And that blush was not just embarrassment.”

“YOU HAD SPECIFIC PEOPLE IN MIND.”

Poppy giggled uncontrollably.

“Tell us, Jessa!” she begged. “Who do you imagine would be your first kiss?”

I refused to answer.

Instead, I stuffed a biscuit into my mouth, chewing aggressively.

Samantha narrowed her eyes.

“Alright,” she mused. “Since you won’t tell us—let’s play a game.”

Natty and Poppy perked up.

Samantha clasped her hands together.

“We’ll guess who you imagined, and you just have to drink your tea if we’re right.”

I choked.

“SAMANTHA.”

She smirked. “Oh, come now, Jessa. Play along.”

Poppy clapped her hands excitedly.

Natty, looking far too entertained, sighed in amusement.

“Very well,” she said. “Let’s begin.”

I was doomed.

Samantha grinned like a demon.

“Sebastian.”

I did not move.

But my tea?

I took the smallest sip.

The girls ERUPTED.

“AHA!”

“OH MERLIN, SHE DID! SHE TOTALLY DID!”

“IT’S ALWAYS THE BAD BOYS!”

I GLARED.

“Samantha, I swear, if you—”

“Oh, we’re not done, darling.”

Samantha tilted her head, smirking.

“Ominis.”

I froze.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I took another sip.

THE SCREAMING.

Poppy actually fell over.

Natty laughed into her hands.

Samantha?

Triumphant.

“Ohhhh, this is getting GOOD,” she purred.

I wanted to disappear.

But they weren’t finished with me.

Samantha leaned in, eyes glinting.

“Garreth,” she tested.

I panicked.

And took a sip.

THEY ABSOLUTELY LOST IT.

“OH MERLIN, ALL THREE?!”

“SHE THOUGHT ABOUT ALL THREE!!”

“I CAN’T BREATHE.”

Samantha fell back, gasping for air.

Poppy was WHEEZING.

Natty looked utterly scandalized.

I?

Regretted every single life decision that led me here.

Samantha clutched my wrist dramatically.

“Jessa. You… you’re in a love triangle—NO. A LOVE SQUARE.”

Poppy shrieked with laughter.

I buried my face in my hands.

“I HATE YOU ALL.”

But they only laughed harder.

The picnic continued in absolute, merciless teasing.

And none of us recovered.

___

The afternoon had passed in a haze of embarrassment, leaving us all slightly dazed and hopelessly red-faced as we headed into dinner.

We still hadn’t fully recovered from the manual.

I knew it. The girls knew it.

And, unfortunately, Sebastian and Ominis definitely knew it too.

As soon as we sat down at the table, the interrogation began.

Sebastian, always suspicious, tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“O…kay,” he said slowly. “What did that manual do to you?”

All of us—

Every. Single. One.

Turned beet red.

Poppy nearly dropped her goblet.

Samantha almost inhaled her bread roll.

Natty pressed her lips together, but her eyes screamed panic.

And me?

I nearly choked on absolutely nothing.

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, Merlin. What was in that thing?!”

Ominis, equally suspicious, set down his goblet and leaned in slightly.

“What exactly did you girls read?”

Poppy squeaked.

Samantha looked like she was about to combust.

And I?

I panicked.

“N-NOTHING!” I blurted, far too quickly.

Wrong move.

Sebastian and Ominis exchanged glances.

Sebastian’s grin twitched wider.

“Nothing?” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Samantha snorted. “Oh, it was something scandalous.”

I stabbed my mashed potatoes aggressively.

“Drop it.”

Sebastian smirked.

Ominis arched an eyebrow.

“If it’s nothing, why can’t you look at us?”

I froze.

Poppy gasped.

Samantha slammed her forehead onto the table.

Natty sipped her juice like she wanted to drown in it.

Busted.

Sebastian leaned forward, smirking.

“Oh, this is gold.”

“I hate you,” I muttered.

Sebastian ignored me.

“Wait, let me guess,” he mused. “The manual was about…”

He tapped his chin dramatically.

“…kissing?”

Poppy choked.

Natty nearly dropped her fork.

And Samantha?

She threw a bread roll at his face.

Direct hit.

Sebastian cackled.

Ominis, who had been composed thus far, simply sighed through his nose.

“Well,” he said, voice as dry as parchment, “That explains the collective silence and unnatural shade of red you’ve all been sporting.”

And then, as if things weren’t already humiliating enough—

Garreth appeared.

With a small bag in hand.

He plopped down beside me, grinning, and casually set the bag in front of me.

Another bag of sweets.

I blinked.

Sebastian stared.

Ominis paused mid-sip of his tea.

Garreth, oblivious to the absolute tension in the air, cheerfully said, “Brought you more, Jessa.”

Silence.

I dared not look at Sebastian or Ominis.

Instead, I focused on Garreth.

“Gar, do you have a secret store in Hogwarts? Where do you get all these sweets?”

Garreth shrugged. “They keep me focused.”

And then—

He looked me dead in the eyes and said,

“I really like sweets.”

Natty choked on her juice.

Poppy smacked the table, wheezing.

Samantha?

She actually screamed.

Sebastian, now slowly setting his goblet down, let out a very deliberate exhale.

Ominis, who had been quiet for the last thirty seconds, simply folded his arms.

I swallowed nervously.

This felt…

Like a test.

And I was failing.

“Ah. That’s…nice?” I managed.

Garreth just grinned and leaned back, completely unaware of the way Sebastian was now examining his cutlery like he was considering murder.

Ominis simply rubbed his temple.

“Fascinating.”

Garreth blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.” Ominis took a slow sip of his tea. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

Sebastian, still holding a fork with far too much intensity, finally exhaled.

He turned to me.

“So, Jessa.” His tone was far too casual.

“Mm-hmm?” I answered, very much afraid.

“Tell me,” he said, voice smooth but dangerously amused, “Did this manual of yours include anything about men who bring you sweets?”

I froze.

The girls gasped.

Garreth blinked. “Wait—what manual?”

Oh, Merlin.

Sebastian smirked.

I needed to leave.

Immediately.

Before they dragged me back into whatever this conversation had become.

I cleared my throat, plastered a polite smile on my face, and turned to Garreth.

“Nothing, Gar. Ignore these lot.” I waved dismissively, pretending I wasn’t about two seconds away from combusting. “Thank you for the sweets again.”

Garreth, still utterly confused but grinning anyway, just shrugged.

I stood abruptly, adjusting my robes.

“Professor Fig asked for my help with his research, and I need to go.”

Not a lie. I did need to prepare for the Restricted Section trip tonight.

It has been nice today. Let us never speak of it again.”

And before anyone could stop me—

I ran.

For my life.

Behind me, I heard the aftermath.

Garreth, clearly amused, casually remarked, “She likes to run away, huh?”

Ominis, sounding like a man who had seen too much, sighed.

“That she does.”

____

I ran to the dormitory to prepare, my mind racing with the events of the day. The picnic, the manual, the teasing at dinner, and now—this. The Restricted Section.

As I gathered my things, I tucked Isadora’s Journal into my satchel, feeling its weight both physically and metaphorically. There were still no responses. No clues. I sighed, shaking off my frustration before heading toward the Room of Requirement to get ready.

Once inside, the familiar warmth of the room settled around me like a reassuring embrace. The scent of parchment and brewing potions filled the air, reminding me that this place had become a sanctuary. I still had some time before sneaking out, so I set to work, brewing the potions I might need tonight—Wiggenweld, Invisibility, Thunderbrew and Invisibility Potions. I didn’t know what to expect, but I refused to be unprepared.

After checking the baby phoenix, who chirped sleepily from its newly built nest, I turned back toward my brewing station—only to hear the door open.

I whipped around, startled.

“Ominis!”

There he stood, leaning casually against the doorway, his face unreadable but his posture entirely too knowing.

“I knew you’d be here,” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

I crossed my arms, trying to feign innocence. “Was it a lie that you needed to help Professor Fig?”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “No! I really do need to check on some books in the library.”

Technically not a lie. I just… neglected to mention which part of the library.

Ominis hummed, stepping further into the room. “Do you need help?”

That question gave me pause. Ominis had always been perceptive, but tonight, his tone held something else—concern? An unspoken need to be involved?

I felt warmth bloom in my chest at his offer, but I shook my head. “No, I can manage, my knight. Thank you, though.”

He huffed out a soft laugh. “You should be more careful throwing that title around, Jessa. Some might take it to heart.”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

Silence. Then—“No. I suppose not.”

For a moment, we stood there, the space between us charged with something neither of us acknowledged. I turned back to my potions, adjusting the cauldron flame, feeling his presence beside me. He always seemed to just know when I needed steady company, even if I didn’t ask for it.

“Let’s talk about the next steps for Anne’s cure when I get back, yeah? Or maybe tomorrow?” I suggested, breaking the silence.

He nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

As I finished stowing my potions, a thought struck me. “Any news on Bas?”

Ominis sighed, rubbing his forehead. “He disappears at night, but I don’t know where. I wake up sometimes and he’s gone.”

That sent a sharp pang through my chest. Sebastian… sneaking off at night? Again?

“I’ll—” I hesitated, then resolved myself. “Let me try something. I’ll talk to him.”

Ominis hesitated, too, before nodding. “Alright. But be careful, Jessa. With him, and… tonight.”

I met his pale, stormy eyes and smiled. “I will be.”

He let out a soft breath before reaching out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear with a touch so gentle it nearly unraveled me.

“Then go, Valancaire. But don’t make me regret letting you do this alone.”

I grinned, stepping backward toward the door. “You worry too much, Gaunt.”

“And you don’t worry enough.”

I laughed softly before slipping out into the night, heart pounding—not from the mission ahead, but from the lingering warmth of his touch.
___

The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows against the towering bookshelves of the Restricted Section, illuminating dust motes that swirled lazily in the still air. I clutched the permission slip Professor Fig had given me, handing it to Madam Scribner, who inspected it with her usual scrutinizing gaze.

She gave a small, satisfied nod. “Everything is in order, Miss Valancaire. Try not to linger too long.”

I exhaled in relief, ready to slip past her when she added, “Oh, and I’ve warded off Peeves tonight.”

I paused. “Warded… off Peeves?”

She sighed, as if the mere thought of him exhausted her. “Yes, I heard about the song he’s been singing about you. The fewer distractions, the better for your research.”

I froze.

She smiled slightly.

I blushed harder.

My entire soul left my body.

Even the librarian knows. Even she is embarrassed for me.

I quickly muttered my thanks and practically fled into the depths of the Restricted Section before she could say another word.

Unlike the last time I was down here, this time I had permission—no need to sneak, no need to worry about Peeves catching me and ratting me out.

And yet—

AH!

I barely swallowed my yelp as I collided into something solid. My heart dropped.

No. No, no, no, this is déjà vu. This isn’t happening again—

Before I could process what was happening, the Disillusionment Charm covering the person I’d just crashed into wore off, revealing—

SEBASTIAN.

I gaped at him.

He glared at me.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, just standing there in a tense silence in the dimly lit hall of forbidden knowledge.

“Are you following me?” I whisper-yelled, barely restraining the urge to grab him by the collar.

Sebastian crossed his arms, his glare unwavering. “I should be asking you the same thing, Valancaire. Care to explain why you keep sneaking off in the dead of night?”

My eye twitched. “I have permission, you absolute menace.”

Sebastian let out a sharp scoff, his jaw clenching. “Oh, I’m sure you do.”

I stared at him, suspicion creeping in. “Wait—why are you here?”

His gaze darkened slightly, his voice lowering. “Because I know you and Ominis have been sneaking around at night.”

My heart stopped.

Sebastian’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was tight with accusation. “At first, I thought it was nothing, but then I noticed the pattern—Ominis disappearing. You disappearing. You two whispering. And you expect me to just sit back and ignore it?”

My mouth opened slightly. “Sebastian—”

“What exactly have you two been up to?” His voice was low, almost dangerous.

Sebastian took a step closer, eyes sharp, searching my face. “Are you going to answer me, Jessa?”

I swallowed, my mind racing. I needed to think.

Sebastian already knew about the strange light I could see—he had been there with me in Hogsmeade, when I defeated with an ancient surge of power. He had been with me in Feldcroft, when we discovered a hidden passage to the undercroft in the ruins of an old Hogwarts professor’s house.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had already seen too much.

It wouldn’t hurt to tell him some of it.

I took a deep breath and lowered my voice. “Sebastian, do you remember the light? The traces of magic that I can see?”

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze flickering with recognition.

“Of course I remember. But what does that have to do with the Restricted Section?”

I exhaled slowly. “Professor Fig’s wife, Miriam, was researching this magic. Before she died, she found a map—”

Sebastian’s eyes snapped to mine. “A map?”

I nodded. “Yes. A map of Hogwarts. And when I looked at it, the light—the same light we saw in Hogsmeade and Feldcroft—pooled onto one location.”

Sebastian tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. “And that location is…?”

I glanced around, lowering my voice further. “Here. The Restricted Section.”

Sebastian was silent for a moment, his brows drawing together in thoughtful concentration. Then, after a beat, he muttered, “Intriguing.”

I gave him a pleading look, my voice urgent. “Please, Sebastian. You can interrogate me later, but I need to do this now.”

He considered me for a moment longer, then exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Fine. But I’m coming with you.”

I blinked. “What?”

He smirked. “Peeves isn’t here. That means I won’t get caught. And since I already know about your ‘mysterious light’—” he arched a brow at me ”—I might as well be useful.”

I sighed, already regretting everything. “Sebastian—”

“You’re not talking me out of it, Valancaire.”

I clenched my jaw. “Fine.”

His smirk widened slightly. “Good girl.”

I nearly hexed him right then and there.

___

Frustration curled in my chest like a restless beast.

There was nothing.

I had scoured the shelves, examined the walls, searched for even the smallest trace of light, but all I found was dust and the familiar scent of old parchment.

Sebastian leaned against a nearby bookshelf, arms crossed, watching me with amusement. “Well?” he drawled. “Find your hidden treasure yet?”

I scowled. “No. But there’s something here—I can feel it.”

He hummed, unimpressed. “Maybe your magic is broken.”

I ignored him, closing my eyes, tuning into that pull—the sensation just beneath my skin, whispering that something was waiting to be found.

Then—

A faint ripple of magic.

My eyes snapped open.

It was weak, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Faint, lingering traces of ancient energy, woven into the very walls of this place.

I spun on my heel. “Sebastian.”

He walked towards  me.

He straightened at the urgency in my voice. “What?”

“Have you been here before?”

He frowned, looking around. “Yeah. But I never cared to look through the rubble—it’s always been blocked off. And I couldn’t risk casting anything because of Peeves.”

I narrowed my eyes. I could still feel it—something beneath the wreckage.

Without another word, I pulled out my wand.

“Reparo.”

The moment the spell left my lips, the rubble shifted. Dust rose into the air as broken shelves, shattered stone, and fallen debris reassembled themselves—revealing something that had been hidden for centuries.

A dark opening, leading deeper beneath the library.

Sebastian stared. “Well… that’s new.”

I turned to him, heart pounding.

He met my gaze, his brown eyes alight with something unreadable. “We’re going down there, aren’t we?”

“Obviously.”

He sighed. “Of course we are.”

We stepped into the passage, the air growing cooler as we descended the ancient stone steps. It smelled of ink, of magic long forgotten, of secrets that did not wish to be found.

At the very bottom, we reached a dead end.

I stared at the blank wall in front of us, the frustration from earlier flaring back to life.

“GREAT,” I snapped. “All that for nothing.”

Sebastian folded his arms, surveying the space. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty determined a second ago.”

And then—

A ripple of magic—stronger this time.

Sebastian went rigid. “Bloody hell—what was that?”

I turned just in time to see it.

A door.

A large, imposing, ornate door, forming from nothing, its frame swirling with golden inscriptions that seemed to shift as I tried to read them.

This place had been waiting for someone to find it.

Sebastian exhaled sharply, his gaze dark with wonder. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

I nodded slowly, pulse thrumming in my ears. “Yes… I do.”