Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Katie Daley had always known she was different.

Not the kind of ‘different’ that attracted the school bully. More like the quiet, unshakable kind–like a song you can hum but never remember the lyrics to. Since she was adopted five years ago, she had picked up many strange occurrences: the odd pause in noise when she entered the room, animals approaching as if she were invisible (or just another critter), and then there were the reflections in glass and mirrors showing objects or people who weren’t really there.

But what set Katie apart the most was her past—or lack thereof. Not only did the car accident take the lives of her parents, but, except for a few incomplete memories and dreams, she didn’t remember her history at all. Doctors attributed the memory loss to brain damage caused by the trauma, unable to give answers on whether or not she would ever fully recover. The earliest memory with clarity was sitting in the sterile environment of the emergency room, wearing an open-back gown with a blue block pattern while flipping the pendant of her necklace between her fingers.

An emerald green serpent intertwined within a Celtic knot, its body looping through the other strands of gold. The metal was cool against her skin, yet it seemed to hum faintly whenever her thoughts strayed too far... or too close. Medical staff called it a 'strange trinket'. Katie called it the only piece of her past she still carried.

The serpent was the only company she'd welcome for days. She didn’t speak to anyone.

Until she realized not talking wasn’t going to reveal anything.

Not family.

Not memories.

Nothing.

If anything, concealing would only further the damage.

It took a few weeks of feigning smiles and charm to be cleared for foster care. Katie was assigned to live with the Daley family, which included their adopted son, Ricky, who had been living with them for over five years already. Although the Daleys were a kind and loving family, Katie still felt out of place since she had entered their home. She could honestly say she loved her Mother, Father, and Ricky. That was simple enough to admit. Then there was the most difficult question.

Who was Katie Daley?

The August air pressed upon Pascoag like a heavy quilt, thick with heat and the faint hum of cicadas. The Daleys’ backyard sagged beneath it—grass dulled to straw, shrubs drooping like they’d given up on standing. Brown leaves clung stubbornly to branches, curled and crackling with every brush of wind.

Katie tugged one loose. It disintegrated instantly, scattering into dry flecks that clung to her fingers.

“We should really remember the sprinkler once in a while,” Mrs. Daley said lightly, her shears snapping with a satisfying crunch as she clipped a thick, lifeless branch from another bush.

Katie smiled faintly but didn’t answer. 

These shrubs weren’t just any plants. Her mother had planted them the very week the Daleys brought her home. Five years of steady growth—branches that had climbed higher than her shoulders, roots that had tangled deep into the soil. She’d always liked how stubborn they were, even when the summers were cruel.

She plucked another leaf. Then another. Soon a little mound of brown crumbs dotted the tops of her sneakers, clinging to the rubber toe caps until she kicked them off with a frustrated shake. Her eyes drifted lower, to a branch near the base—so brittle it looked ready to crumble if she only breathed on it.

Katie reached for it.

And the world shifted.

The brown vein beneath her fingers flushed green, the color spreading through the branch like ink in water. Wrinkled, lifeless leaves softened, filling with color until they glistened with dew. What had been brittle became pliant. Dead turned alive, and it happened in the space of a heartbeat.

Katie yanked her hand back with a sharp gasp, rubbing her palm as though she’d touched a live wire. 

The air tasted almost metallic now. 

A flash of silver seared across her vision—something coiled, alive, watching. And in the same instant, a voice breathed through her ears: soft, unfamiliar, carried on a forest wind she didn’t know.

Then nothing.

Her chest rose and fell too fast. She leaned closer, searching the branch for some trick, some sign that what she’d seen was ordinary. But it was only green now. Healthy. Normal.

“Katie? What’s the matter?” Mrs. Daley’s voice cut through the heat. She paused with her shears half-raised, concern pulling at her expression.

Katie forced her lips into a smile. “Nothing, Mom. Just… a spider.”

Mrs. Daley tilted her head, unconvinced, but didn’t press.

Katie turned away quickly, tugging her hands against her jeans like the friction might rub away the memory. This wasn’t like the little oddities she’d shrugged off before—her too-accurate hunches, her way of finding things without looking. This was different. Something that shouldn’t have life had sprung awake at her touch.

“Mom, do you know where the gloves are?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

“In the shed,” Mrs. Daley answered, already turning back to her work.

Katie slipped into the little red shed, the smell of cut grass and rusted tools sharp in the air. The gloves hung on a hook just inside the door, stiff canvas already dusted with dirt. She pulled them on, flexing her fingers against the scratchy lining, desperate for the barrier they gave. Only then did she return to the bushes, pretending that the gloves had brought some sense to the world.

The dream came quietly, like mist curling through an open window.

Katie stood barefoot in a clearing she didn’t remember walking into. All around her, ancient trees towered, their bark dark as charcoal and their leaves glowing faintly silver in the moonlight. The wind smelled of wet earth and something older—wildflowers and ash, iron and rain. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted once, then fell silent.

A figure stepped from between the trees.

She was tall and cloaked in deep green robes, her hair long and black with streaks of silver like starlight caught in ink. Her face was pale, carved with the serenity of someone who had lived through storms and still stood. She carried no wand. Her presence alone was enough to hush the forest.

Katie didn’t move.

The woman knelt in front of her, not towering but soft, as though meeting a child at eye level.

"You won't remember this," she said, brushing a strand of hair from Katie’s brow. Her accent was Irish, lilting and careful, and her voice settled in Katie's bones like something long forgotten. "Not yet. But someday, you'll come back to this place. To all of it."

Katie tilted her head. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled. There was pride in her expression, and sorrow, and a deep-rooted hope. “I am a seed in your blood,” she answered cryptically. “A whisper in your waking heart. When the time is right, you'll hear me.”

She reached out, and a vine unfurled from the earth between them. It coiled gently around Katie’s wrist, not to trap her, but to guide.

"You carry more than you know," the woman murmured. “And soon, the world will ask you to choose what to become.” Katie’s fingers brushed the vine. It felt warm.

The woman leaned in closer, eyes gleaming like moonlit water. “You are not lost. You are hidden.”

Katie’s lips parted to speak, but the wind rushed through the clearing like a tide, scattering leaves in a spiral. The dream began to dissolve around her—light flickering through the trees, the clearing unraveling into haze.

The woman’s voice came one last time, barely audible:

"When the serpents stir, follow the storm."

Katie awoke tangled in her sheets, heart pounding.

She couldn't remember the dream. But when she touched her wrist, she swore she could feel a phantom tingling sensation—like something had curled around it but left no mark.

But somewhere deep inside her chest, something stirred.

The knock on the door happened early the next morning.

Katie had just come downstairs in pajama pants and her favorite oversized sweater when her Mother answered the door. A tall woman stood framed in the morning light, which did nothing to cover her odd choice of outerwear: an indigo cloak fastened with a silver serpent brooch. She had storm-grey eyes that looked as though they could penetrate time.

“Good morning,” she said calmly. “I am Professor Eira Vale. I have come to speak with Katie Daley.”

Katie froze on the stairs. Her stomach twisted. Her heart felt as though it had migrated to her stomach. She looked over her shoulder to see everyone’s eyes fixated on her. Who would be here for her?

Vale stepped into the living room. She withdrew something from the pocket of her long cloak - it looked like an off-white colored envelope. Katie accepted it, flipping it over to see a seal of cranberry-red wax stamped with the icons of four odd creatures. Looking closer, she read, ‘Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’.

She looked at the strange woman with a questioning look. “What is it?”

Vale said it abruptly, “You are not just an ordinary girl, Miss Daley,” she said. “You’re a witch. And it’s well past time you joined us in the witching world.”

Katie could barely breathe. “Excuse me?”

Vale offered a nod. “Typically, the Magical Congress sends acceptance letters on the witch or wizard’s 11th year. However, your name recently appeared in the Registry of Magical Citizens.” She paused, allowing Katie to process. “Although it is rare, there have been many ‘late bloomers’ throughout history.”

Katie blinked. “It couldn't be… wrong?”

“No,” Vale said gently. “As I said: it’s a rare occurrence, but not unheard of.”

Mrs. Daley gaped. “I-I don’t understand—”

“You don’t need to,” Vale said gently, waving a long object with a flick. A shimmer seemed to pass over the room like heat off the pavement, and Katie watched as her parents’ expressions softened from confused to mutual agreement.

“What did you—” Katie started softly.

“You have tonight,” Vale said, turning to Katie. “Pack what you need. Say ‘goodbye’. I’ll be back to collect you tomorrow at noon.”

Katie’s heartbeat was so loud she barely managed a nod.

Chapter Text

Mrs. Daley had woken up early to bake a basket full of peanut butter cookies to "break the ice" with her new classmates and teachers. 

"I love you," Katie hugged her Mother tightly. Her Father, quiet as always, gave her another hug and an envelope, “if you need lunch or spending money.”

Ricky approached with Widget on his shoulder; he placed his hand on her head to ruffle her hair before Katie nearly knocked him over with a hug.

"Be good, kiddo." Ricky said while Widget whistled in agreement, ruffling his own grey and white feathers to preen. "Love you."

The wind carried a heavy scent of wet pine and stone as the grass sparkled with dew, and her suitcase floated behind her, following Professor Vale like a well-trained pet. Katie watched it glide across the pavement skeptically, clutching her necklace tightly as if letting go would cause her to disappear.

They took no train, plane, or car. Instead, Professor Vale opened an umbrella etched with silver symbols, placed a hand on Katie’s shoulder, and muttered something Katie didn’t understand.

That’s when the world twisted. Trees blurred. The sky shimmered. When all was finished, they were standing on the steps of a tourist building: the Mt. Greylock Visitor’s Center.

It was quaint and unassuming—wooden signs directing visitors to hiking trails, a small gift shop filled with postcards, brochures, and regional maps. Inside, the air smelled like cinnamon coffee, pine polish, and aged paper.

At first, Katie thought it was just an ordinary visitor’s lobby. But then her eyes snagged on something most passersby didn’t seem to notice: a narrow alcove behind the shelves of guidebooks, where a small wooden counter glowed faintly with enchantment. A ranger in uniform sat there, quietly taking notes, next to him what looked like a pile of gold coins and a brass scale. Tourists bustled right past him as though he were invisible, their gazes sliding away without pause.

“Hello,” Katie said softly, jumping slightly when the pile of coins between the man and the scale jumped one-by-one into a cashier's drawer… on their own.

“Good evening, Miss,” he smiled politely. “What can I help you with today?”

Professor Vale stepped closer to the counter. “She is a new student at Ilvermorny. We needed to make a quick stop for a currency exchange.” Professor Vale looked at Katie, gesturing towards the counter with the slightest tilt of her head.

Katie removed the envelope from her pocket and slid it across the counter. The ranger opened it, counted the bills, and then looked up at her. “Would you like the two hundred broken into Galleons, Sickles, Knuts—or a mix?”

Katie blinked, caught off guard. “What's a—”

“A mix,” Vale answered smoothly before Katie could finish speaking. “She’ll need pocket change and larger coin.”

The ranger nodded and scooped coins into a small leather pouch. Gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts clinked together with a satisfying weight, their metallic gleam catching the light.

Katie took the pouch carefully when the ranger placed it in front of her. She opened the bag and pulled a silver coin out, cold against her palm, and much heavier than what she was used to carrying around. She turned it over, tracing the strange markings with her thumb, and thought with a sudden, bittersweet smile—her family would get a kick out of these. Ricky would probably add one of each to his coin collection, while her parents would marvel at how impractical wizarding currency was to carry.

The thought was somehow warming as she dropped the silver back into the bag.

Vale rested a guiding hand on her shoulder. “Come along. We don't want to be late.”

“Thank you,” Katie thanked the ranger with a small nod.

“You are so welcome. And welcome to Mount Greylock.” His professional smile remained as they walked away

Professor Vale led them toward a set of frosted glass doors marked ‘Staff Only’. She flicked her wand and it opened. Their environment was no longer the inside of the Visitor's center. Instead they stood in a stone corridor, long and quite wide.

The air turned cool and sweet, laced with a faint feeling of something else. Torches flickered to life along the walls as they walked deeper. There was a soft hiss as the wall ahead faded into a new tunnel of lush green, flanked by old lanterns and ivy-draped arches.

As they followed the covered pathway through the mountainside, the forest Katie could make out through glimpses between the hanging vines opened until a high plateau appeared before them… and there it was.

Ilvermorny

Ilvermorny was rugged, seemingly carved directly from the granite bones of Mount Greylock. Its walls bore soft curves where stone met moss. Windows jutted in odd angles. Ivy crawled up towers that disappeared into the drifting fog. A low hum of thunder vibrated through the air—not from the sky, but from a floating gray-blue cloud that hovered over the tallest spire. It glowed faintly, flickering with runes, then disappeared into the tower window.

“The Roaming Storm,” Vale said. “Keeps the school clean. And mischievous.”

Katie stared at it. “It’s a… magical cloud janitor?”

Vale allowed the smallest of smirks. “It has a temper.”

Professor Vale slowed her steps beside her, giving her a moment to take it all in.

“You’ll get used to the size,” she said softly. “Eventually.”

Katie nodded, eyes wide. But something else drew her gaze—off to the side, near the edge of the school grounds, just past a row of crooked hedges. A small figure stood there, hunched and grumbling, using a spear to examine something the sharp arrow had embedded. He had the shape of an old man, but not quite human—his ears were far too long, and his skin seemed tinged with a mossy grey. He didn’t notice them—or maybe he did and simply didn’t care.

“Um… Professor?” Katie asked, blinking. “Is that… a teacher?”

Vale glanced over and smirked faintly. “Not quite. That’s William. He’s been around longer than most of us.” Her tone shifted just enough to end the conversation.

Katie turned her head for another look, but the figure was already gone.

Once inside, they stepped into a wide hexagonal chamber bathed in amber lanternlight. Dozens of students gathered in nervous clusters beneath the domed ceiling. The scent of waxed stone, parchment, and something like sage wafted through the air. In the center of the floor, an intricate mosaic shimmered—an interwoven pattern of the four house creatures. At the far end stood four towering statues. Katie watched as a young boy pointed them out.

“That’s the Horned Serpent, that one is the Wampus, the Thunderbird, and the Pukwudgie.”

Katie swallowed hard as she realized the statues themselves were scanning the room of new students. Just subtle shifts—a blink here, a twitch of stone muscle there. That is, until the ceremony began.

“Olivia Bright.”

The girl stepped forward with trembling hands. The Thunderbird lifted its wings.

“Thunderbird,” a voice echoed.

Cheers erupted from a far corner of the room.

“Michael Reiner.”

The Wampus let out a soft, rumbling sound.

“Wampus.”

Katie’s heart pounded.

Then—“Katie Daley.”

She walked forward on unsteady legs, her breath catching. The floor beneath her feet thrummed faintly, like the heartbeat of something ancient. The magic she hadn’t been the slightest bit aware of seemed to stir, ever more awake.

The statues stirred. Thunderbird’s feathers ruffled, a ripple of interest running down its wings. Wampus swished its tail with a low, curious growl. Pukwudgie blinked once, as if weighing her silently.

But the Horned Serpent moved first—and fiercely. Its gemstone eyes flared an intense, otherworldly blue. Its great stone head turned toward the other statues, and a low, resonant hiss rolled from its throat, the sound echoing against the chamber’s high ceiling. It was not loud, but it carried the weight of warning, halting the Thunderbird’s display mid-ruffle and stilling Wampus’s restless tail. Even the Pukwudgie’s stony gaze seemed to narrow slightly, retreating into stillness.

Only then did the serpent lower its head toward Katie, bowing with deliberate grace. The glow in its eyes deepened, locking with her gaze until the rest of the room seemed to blur at the edges. Katie felt her necklace pulse—a low, warm tug, as if it had recognized something. As if it had been waiting. A gentle hum traveled from the pendant through her chest, matching the beat of the ancient power that now felt impossibly close.

“Horned Serpent,” the voice called.

The room responded with applause and murmurs alike, but Katie hardly heard any of it. As she returned to her spot, the ringing in her ears only faded when her eyes landed on a boy watching her from the wall.

He looked a little older, tall with a quiet stillness about him. His hair was platinum blonde, striking against his pale skin. His grey eyes were dark at first glance, unreadable—but as the lanternlight caught them, she saw something unusual: not one flat color, but a layered shifting of tone. They shimmered like silver smoke and faded charcoal, flecked with moonlight.

He gave her a small nod. Friendly. Familiar.

Katie blinked.

She didn’t recognize him in the slightest. But familiarity seemed to be painted on his face.

The cheers faded as the Sorting concluded, the echo of the Horned Serpent’s hiss still lingering in Katie’s mind like the last note of a song. Students began to file out through the great archway, their voices rising in a dozen different conversations. She followed the tide into the Hall of Seasons.

The hall glowed in warm amber and gold, the enchanted ceiling shifting through the colors of a lingering autumn sunset. Crisp leaves drifted lazily in the air above the long tables, vanishing before they could touch the plates.

A group of blonde girls hovered over a magazine sprawled upon the heavy wooden table giggling; a boy stood in the main aisle bouncing what looked like a hacky sack from one knee to his shoe; a young boy yelped “oh no” as he launched himself from his seat, attempting to chase a brown frog across the antique floor.

A thunderclap interrupted her overall analysis and Katie quickly slipped into an abandoned seat closest to the wall, keeping her head slightly lowered as she eyed the storm clouds movements. The next table over drew her attention next, a tall boy with dark twists was laughing loudly at something a girl with a glittery lavender hair clip had just said. The girl’s hands moved animatedly as she talked, her expression bright and confident. Across from them, a quiet boy with longer dark hair tied neatly back watched the dark shoulder-length hair with measured detachment, though the corner of his mouth curved slightly when their laughter grew louder.

Katie tried not to stare, but she cataloged every detail of this room like pieces of an advanced puzzle she hadn't seen the box cover for. Everyone and everything seemed… so connected.

A chime sounded from overhead, quickly calming the room and signaling everyone to their seats. After its short announcement of constant ‘dings’, adults in robes, hats, and suits began to file onto the stage and behind a bolstered table. The platform at the head of the hall was two large steps up higher from the floor but must've allowed an excellent view for any oversight. Katie could point out Professor Vale speaking with a younger teacher as another older witch took to the podium perched centered at the edge of the stage.

“Welcome to Ilvermorny,” her voice sounded more youthful than her facial features: her eyes seemed almost tired, her brows a soft shade of black which contrasted the silver in her grey hair. The warm light from the enchanted leaves above caught the faint lines at the corners of her mouth, marks of a woman who had smiled often in her life, even if those smiles had grown rarer in recent years.

“I know for some of you, tonight is the beginning of your magical journey,” she continued, her gaze sweeping the room. “For others, it is another chapter in the story you’ve been writing since your first steps through these doors. But whether you arrived as a wide-eyed first year or as a transfer student taking your place among us, know this: Ilvermorny remembers all who belong here.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the older students.

“This school stands as more than granite stone and spellwork. It was built to be a sanctuary, a place where knowledge is shared freely and curiosity is not just welcomed, but always expected. You will study magic in all its complexity—its wonder, its challenge, and yes, its responsibility. Magic is power, and power demands wisdom. Use both wisely.”

She paused, letting the words settle.

“Your Houses will guide you, your professors will challenge you, and your peers will shape you in ways you cannot yet imagine. In turn, you will leave your mark on this place, as every witch and wizard before you has. And perhaps, when your time here ends, you will find that Ilvermorny has marked you as well.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Now, eat well, rest well, and prepare yourselves. The term begins at dawn.”

With that, Headmistress Morrigan lifted her goblet, and the hall erupted into applause. The long tables shimmered with platters of food, the scents of roasted squash, spiced cider, roasted meats and fresh bread filling the air, drawing the students into the comfort of their first night together.

“First day here?” a voice asked from beside her.

Katie turned to see a girl about her age settling into the space beside her. She had chestnut hair plaited over one shoulder and wore a tidy silver-and-blue scarf, though it seemed too warm to need one.

“Yeah,” Katie said softly.

“I’m Maren,” the girl offered with an easy smile. “Don’t worry—Horned Serpent isn’t as intimidating as it looks. Just… a bit obsessed with being clever.”

Katie huffed a faint laugh. “Good to know.”

Maren poured cider into her goblet. “You looked so calm up there. Most new students flinch when the statues twitch in the slightest, nevermind nearly leaping off their podiums.”

Katie glanced down at her plate, “what do you mean?”

“The Horned Serpent definitely saw something in you worth claiming.” Maren nodded knowingly as someone quickly dropped behind her, surprising her with a hug.

Katie began slowly picking at the sweet potatoes, her gaze drifting from plate to plate as she studied the unspoken languages of the room. Students mingled between bites, laughter and low conversation threading together like a warm undercurrent. At the high table, the professors leaned toward one another, clearly absorbed in their own topics of discussion.

She felt the comfortable hum of it all—the clinking of cutlery, the bursts of laughter, the soft hiss of enchanted leaves drifting overhead—while quietly taking everything in.

This was her world now.

Her place.

And somewhere, in the shifting of voices and candlelight, the first threads of belonging began to weave themselves into the fabric of time.

Chapter Text

As the students finished their meals, another round of chimes rang out from above the tables. Conversations quieted. Professor Vale had risen from her place at the high table, her indigo cloak trailing behind her like a spill of ink.

“All new students,” she announced, her voice clear and commanding, “please follow me.”

Katie set her spoon down in the small remainder of rice pudding and slid along the bench, stepping out into the aisle with the others. She joined a small knot of students from all four houses, some whispering nervously, others staring straight ahead. A few professors left the high table as well, falling into step beside them like an escort.

“Where did she transfer from again?” A boy whispered.

“I heard she was home-schooled.” 

Katie just stared at the floor, focusing on each and every step.

They were led through a corridor lit by golden lanterns, the air grew cooler and seemed to be carrying the faint scent of polished wood and parchment. The sound of the dining hall faded until all that remained was the quiet shuffle of shoes and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. One by one, students were called through a tall, arched doorway ahead.

Her anxiety grew with each student called into the mysterious room. The serpent knot at her throat seemed to mimic the rhythm of her heart—fast and unsteady.

She was last.

Katie followed Professor Vale into a narrow, dimly lit room that smelled faintly of cedar shavings and something sharper—burnt something. The walls rose high on either side, lined with thousands of wand boxes stacked like silent sentries. Floating candles hovered above, their warm light casting shifting shadows across the shelves.

When the curiosity and wonder in her eyes grounded to the present, she found Professor Vale waiting some distance ahead, flanked by a tall male teacher she had recalled seeing at dinner.

“Miss Daley,” Vale said, her tone softer now. “This is Professor Bellamy. You'll recognize him more after classes begin.”

He was tall, his dark robes crisp and severe, the fall of the fabric so sharp it looked as though it might cut if touched. His expression was unreadable, eyes like slate that measured her in silence before he spoke.

“Step forward,” he said, his voice smooth but edged, like a blade’s spine.

Katie did, trying to keep her hands still.

The first box he opened held a slender wand of maple with unicorn hair core. She barely had time to wrap her fingers around it before the tip sparked, letting out a loud pop and a shower of golden dust that clung stubbornly to her hair. Bellamy’s brow twitched.

“No.”

The next wand was heavier, the dual-toned wood an unusual twist of ebony and willow, dark and elegant. She liked the look of it—graceful yet daring—but the moment she gripped it, the air turned cold. Every candle went out at once.

Vale flicked her wand, and the flames returned. “Definitely not that one.”

Bellamy replaced it without a word, though Katie thought she caught the faintest downward turn at the corner of his mouth.

The third was bright cherrywood with phoenix feather, but the second she lifted it, a stack of boxes on the far shelf tipped over as if shoved by invisible hands.

Bellamy’s nostrils flared in a slow breath. “Put it back.”

Professor Bellamy’s boots clicked softly against the polished floor ahead. “Stand here,” he instructed, gesturing to a circular inlay of silver and wood set into the floor. Its interlocking vine pattern gleamed faintly under the lamplight.

Katie obeyed, swallowing against the dryness in her throat.

“Wand ceremonies are not about what you want,” Bellamy directly stated without prompt, his voice low and deliberate. “They are about what you are.”

He turned away again without further explanation, scanning a towering wall of shelves as if reading a language only he understood. His long fingers drifted over the boxes until they stopped on one.

“This is rowan, phoenix feather core,” he said, placing it in her hand.

The reaction was immediate. The inlay beneath her feet flared with jagged orange light, and the wand emitted a shrill, almost angry whine. Katie dropped it to cover her ears, and the sound cut off as it hit the floor.

Bellamy retrieved it without comment, but his gaze lingered on her for a fraction too long, something unreadable in his expression.

At last, he turned to the highest shelf in the far corner. His hand hovered over one box, then, almost reluctantly, took it down.

“This one,” he said quietly, “is Snakewood and cherry. Core of dittany.” 

The wand rested on a bed of deep green velvet, its three serpent-like strands glistened with a scale-like texture, twisting elegantly until they merged within the cherry wood tip.

She hesitantly accepted it from the box in Professor Bellamy’s hands, her fingers brushing the velvet lining. When her gaze met his, his eyes flicked away almost instantly, snapping the hinged lid shut as though she had taken a moment too long.

“Go on,” Vale encouraged.

The instant her fingers closed around it, a warm surge shot through her arm—quick and fierce, like something alive had recognized her. The carved vines seemed as if they were shifting under her touch.

The air in the chamber swelled for a heartbeat, then softened, settling deep in her chest. Katie tightened her grip, the strange certainty taking root—this was hers.

Professor Vale gave a small approving nod. Bellamy, however, simply stepped back, his expression unreadable.

“Keep it safe,” he said, his tone as even and cool as the polished floor beneath their feet. “You’ll find it… responsive.” His eyes flicked once to the serpent pendant at her throat before he turned, disappearing into the shadows between the shelves.

Vale gestured toward the archway. “Come along, Miss Daley. You’ll want to see where you’ll be staying.”

They stepped back into the corridor, the hush of the wand room fading behind them. The lanternlit passage gave way to a winding staircase, its banister carved into the twisting forms of serpents, each one inlaid with tiny flecks of abalone that shimmered as they passed. Katie’s footsteps echoed softly in the enclosed space, her wand warm in her hand as though reluctant to be put away.

At the top, Vale paused before a tall silver arch etched with flowing runes. “The Horned Serpent common room,” she announced quietly. “You’ll find it well-suited to your mind, if you let it be.”

Katie stepped through the arch—

—and felt at once as though she had crossed into another world.

Her blue eyes—streaked with hints of hazel and green—flicked toward the ceiling, where the Roaming Storm drifted past, pulsing gently with runes like a heartbeat.

Aquamarine light filtered from crystal orbs above, reflecting off glass shelves lined with ancient books, brass instruments, and softly humming rune stones. The scent of parchment, dried lilac, and candle wax drifted through the air. In the far corner, an enchanted chalkboard scrawled someone’s essay title by itself.

A few students stared as she entered, some whispering. Katie had already heard the phrase in passing: “late-bloomer,” “fifth-year transfer,” and more than once, “the girl who got sorted.”

Because at Ilvermorny, almost all students were sorted in their first year. Once.

Katie was an odd exception.

A fifth year, chosen publicly by Horned Serpent, like it had been waiting for her to walk through Ilvermorny's front door.

“You’re the new fifth year, right?” the girl asked with a polite smile. “I’m Delia. Third year.” She was freckled with brown hair neatly braided, carrying a side satchel nearly overloaded with books.

“Katie,” she replied, returning the smile, a little cautious.

Delia tilted her head curiously. “Quick question—do you think Archibald Quigley or Penelope Tweak invented the Self-Inking Quill?”

Katie blinked. “Like a pen?”

Delia’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but her tone stayed kind. “Sort of, yeah. But with its own ink charm. You don’t have those in your—uh, where you’re from?”

Katie shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Well,” Delia said, adjusting her satchel, “for what it’s worth, it was Tweak. But Quigley tried to claim the patent, so… wizarding drama.” She gave a small, amused shrug and stood. “Nice to meet you.”

And just like that, Delia moved on, leaving Katie wondering just how many things she didn’t know.

She stood frozen just inside the common room.

“Katie, right?” She slightly jumped from the surprise voice from behind.

She turned.

A girl with straight black hair, warm brown eyes, and a glittery lavender hair clip approached with a deck of narrow cards in one hand and a velvet pouch in the other.

“I’m Gabby Huang,” the girl said cheerfully. “My best friend ditched me for his books, so congrats—you’re my new best friend now.”

Katie blinked. “Oh. Um… hi.”

“You’re quiet,” Gabby noted, already shuffling the cards. “Don’t worry, I talk enough for both of us. Pick one.”

Before Katie could object, Gabby drew a card herself and flipped it.

“The Moon,” she said dramatically, holding it out. The illustration shimmered faintly in the magic light. “Mystery. Secrets. Intuition. You’re definitely someone worth watching.”

Katie stared at the card, a shiver creeping down her spine.

“I love Divination,” Gabby added. “And astrology. And reading tea leaves. Some people think it’s all vague nonsense, but I swear it tells the truth when no one else will.”

Katie gave a hesitant laugh. “That sounds like a lot of pressure for a deck of cards.”

Gabby grinned. “Oh, it loves the drama.”

A voice behind them cut in. “Gabby collects people like chocolate frog cards. If she starts planning your wedding, run.”

A tall, athletic student with deep brown skin and tight twists of dark hair leaned against a bookshelf, chewing on a sugar quill. His stance was relaxed but grounded.

“Camden Taylor,” he said. “Sixth year. Beater. Professional chaos specialist.”

“More like professionally annoying,” Gabby muttered, fluffing her sequined cardigan sleeve.

Camden turned to Katie. “You must be the transfer. Heard the whole house statue practically glowed when you got sorted.”

Katie blushed, sitting on her hands. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

“Nah,” Camden said, waving a hand. “It was epic.”

Katie furrowed her brow. “What’s Quidditch?”

Camden blinked. “Wait—you don’t know?”

Gabby nudged Camden’s arm. “Tell her what a Beater does.”

“Oh, right,” Camden said with a grin. “Quidditch. You’ll see me on a broom. I knock Bludgers at people.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Katie admitted. “I wasn’t raised around all… this.”

Gabby’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh my stars, this is going to be so much fun.”

“It’s like wizard rugby in the sky,” Camden said. “With different balls. And flying. And a lot more bruises.”

Gabby added, “And drama. So much drama. You’ll love it.”

Before Katie could respond, a familiar face appeared—platinum blonde hair, pale skin, and storm-shadow eyes. He took a seat on the next sofa over, eyes never leaving the small book in his hand.

Gabby leaned in to whisper, “That’s Sean. He’s been Camden’s best friend since first year. You'd never expect it because their personalities clash like oil and water.”

“He's the seeker for Horned Serpent,” Camden added, nudging Katie’s elbow. “He’s a bit broody. Don’t mind him.” Sean's focus finally broke from the book to glare at Camden.

Camden laughed.

Sean’s grey eyes met Katie’s yet again. In the soft glow of the orbs, they revealed flecks of silver and slate, shifting, always seemingly changing. Greyscale.

It took a few moments to realize Katie may have stared back for a little too long. She blushed and snapped her attention back to Gabby.

Nobody seemed to pick it up, but Sean returned to his book, brandishing the smallest smirk on his face.

“So, newbie, what's your story?” Camden questioned.

Katie thought for a minute and decided upon the words, “I don't remember.”

"So, this is it!" Gabby opened the door and revealed their shared dorm room. "It isn't much, but it's home for the rest of the year."

Katie scanned the room: two twin-sized beds, two wardrobes, two chests,... everything in twos. It wasn't difficult to tell which side of the room was hers.

"I unpacked as soon as they called curfew, as you can probably tell," Gabby sounded so cheerful as she saw Katie touch one of her tapestries made of pink sparkling sequins. "Do you mind sleeping closer to the window?"

Katie smiled and shook her head, locating the corner of her suitcase underneath her bed. She hoisted it onto the mattress and unlocked the clasps. As soon as she had raised the top, she noticed a brown paper package with twine and the word 'DORK' printed underneath.

"What's that?" Gabby approached, her voice full of curiosity.

"My brother must've snuck it into my suitcase," she worked on the grocery-bag-turned-to-gift-wrap until a small blank box was revealed along with a folded piece of paper that fell onto the bedspread.

She used the wooden frame to step up, sitting on the mattress while unfolding the note.

"Hey kiddo,

I know this world is going to be new and strange and probably full of weird floating books. But I also know you're going to be amazing. And no matter how far away I am, I've got your back. Always.

Love,

Ricky

P.S. Don't let any magical boys break your heart. I'll find a way to curse them even without fancy magical powers. May the force be with you."

Katie placed the letter on the blanket, opening the small box. Inside she found a grey and white feather from Widget, Kodak instant pictures from when Ricky and her were on a photography binge during her first Christmas in their home, a blank notepad, and some dried pressed lavender from Mrs. Daley's garden.

"He's such a weirdo," she felt the emotions surfacing. She wiped her eyes quickly in a poor attempt to cover up the tears already beginning to spill.

"You okay?" Gabby asked softly.

"Yeah. Just... I didn't think I'd miss home this much already."

Gabby immediately wrapped her in her embrace. "We'll make this feel like home, too."

Katie summarized the last two days for Gabby before they changed into pajamas and turned in for the night. The room felt calmer now, the sounds of distant thunder from the roaming storm cloud fading into the steady hush of the castle at rest.

She sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, drawing her new wand from where she’d tucked it away. She examined it even further: the texture of the scale-like pattern glistened from the dimmed lamplight. She turned it slowly, tracing the three entwined vines with her fingertips. The warmth from earlier hadn’t faded—it pulsed gently, as though the wand itself was breathing in time with her.

Katie exhaled, a mix of awe and unease curling in her chest.

The last thing she did was place the picture of her family and Widget's feather under her pillow before she extinguished the light, the wand still resting within arm’s reach on her bedside table.

The world outside the windows was still dark blue, barely beginning to soften at the edges with the hint of sunrise. Katie padded down the stairs in her favorite house moccasins and green pajama set. Even with the fireplace ablaze, the Horned Serpent common room was chilly this morning. Once she reached the bottom step, she noticed another figure near the window. After rubbing her eyes, she quickly made out Sean in the large armchair she had seen him in for part of the night before. He looked so at ease with the fire behind him, lighting up the tousled blonde hair just as the halo of a saint on a prayer card. The book sitting in his lap was very large, thick, and leather-bound.

She stepped off the bottom step, and his grey eyes quickly flickered in her direction. "You couldn't sleep either?" His voice was just loud enough to hear over the crackling fire behind him.

Katie walked slowly towards the chair adjacent to his and sat. "Too many thoughts."

Sean nodded knowingly. "Yeah. First day is always like that." He quietly shut the book with the softest of thumps, then set it aside. "I remember when I arrived. The sorting, especially."

"Gabby said you were chosen by all four houses," she had adjusted herself in the chair so she could watch the flames dance.

He nodded, "it was a bit of a circus moment. All of the statues moving, all of the noises... Gabby swears to this day she saw my face in the roaming stormcloud."

Katie gave a soft smile, shifting slightly to meet his attention more directly.

"I was leaning toward Thunderbird for a while. When I chose Horned Serpent, Camden nearly jumped out of his skin from cheering so loudly. We had met on the carriages earlier."  

"Why did you choose Horned Serpent?" Katie asked curiously.

Sean lay back against the back cushions and folded his hands together. "A lot of people seem to think it's because I 'wanted to be the smartest'. That doesn't matter. I chose it because—"

They both heard the door creak from the top of the male dormitory, followed by the messy shuffling of footsteps. Camden then trudged into view, obviously still half-asleep and wearing a Quidditch-themed t-shirt with mismatched flannel bottoms. "Isn't it a little early for a first heart-to-heart?"

Katie blushed and stood quickly, "I'd better go get ready then." She tried not to move too fast, but both boys knew she was in a hurry.

Sean shot Camden a familiar look and reached for the large book once again.

"What?" Camden yawned loudly. "Just offering emotional support to friends with my physical presence."

"More like emotionally intercepting," Sean mumbled before finding the point in print he had left off.

The fire continued to crackle with the first golden strands of sunlight peeking through the enchanted stained glass windows of the tower, painting the common room in softer, cooler shades of color.

Chapter Text

Katie’s first official day as a student of Ilvermorny began under a pearly grey sky. She had finally drifted asleep, only to rise again the same hour. For a moment, the silence felt sacred—until the Roaming Storm swept by the stained windows overlooking one of the main hallways, crackling gently and leaving tracks of rain flowing down the stained glass.

Gabby led Katie to the Horned Serpent shower room. Steam curled through the enchanted Ilvermorny showers, the tiled chamber split neatly down the center by a tall enchanted divider—a glowing mist that shimmered like moonlight but kept sight and sound somewhat contained. The left side belonged to the girls, the right to the boys, though nothing could truly muffle the sounds completely.

"Welcome back, Miss Huang. As dazzling as ever, I see."

Katie looked around quickly finding no one else in the room.

"And who is this young lady?"

"The mirrors," Gabby said. "They’re enchanted and so sweet."

"Miss Huang is so modest," the one closest to Gabby claimed.

“She has potential, but could use more shine,” another mirror muttered as the girls walked out the door.

After returning to their dorm room, Gabby finished getting ready by applying a touch of shimmer to her cheekbones and humming to herself as she picked matching socks from a collection organized by color and mood.

"First impression classes," she said solemnly. "No pressure, right?"

Katie smiled faintly. She didn’t say it, but nerves were knotting in her stomach. Despite all the warm welcomes and new faces, a part of her still felt like a stranger in someone else’s dream.

“Headmistress Morrigan requested I stop by her office before breakfast,” Katie stated.

Gabby smiled, “want me to come with you? I can show you the way to the dining hall afterward.”

“That's okay, Gabby. I'll meet you there.”

The Headmistress’ office wasn't far. Headmistress Morrigan had merely wanted to ask how her first night at Ilvermorny had been and to let her know if she needed anything. “You are welcome here, Miss Daley,” she had said, her voice calm and assured. Then she was dismissed with about fifteen minutes to spare before breakfast was due to be served.

Katie’s boots tapped uncertainly across the frost-tinged stone of Ilvermorny’s lower courtyard, her hood flapping slightly in the crisp mountain air. The castle loomed above like something out of a forgotten dream. It should have felt like a new beginning.

Instead, it felt like everyone was staring.

She adjusted her satchel strap and glanced to the side as two Pukwudgies passed by, each carrying bundles of parchment taller than they were. One grunted something under his breath about “lazy Thunderbird first-years,” while the other gave her a quick, assessing glance before nodding in acknowledgment. Katie appreciated how they seemed more interested in finishing their delivery than in the face of a new fifth-year.

She kept her eyes down, clutching her satchel even tighter like it might anchor her to solid ground. She barely made it past the sundial fountain when a voice rang out behind her.

“Well, look at that. The No-Maj figured out which end of the wand to hold.”

Katie stopped mid-step, the words freezing in her spine. Why did her legs feel so heavy? She knew she should say something—anything—but her voice was a locked drawer she couldn’t open.

She turned slowly.

A boy leaned smugly against a stone pillar. His voice echoed in the open space, drawing a few glances from nearby students. A Thunderbird girl paused but quickly turned away. No one intervened. Katie felt like every window was watching and none would speak. His arms were crossed, his smile sharp.

“Must’ve taken you years,” he went on. “What was it, hm? Accidental magic during a haircut? Or did you just trip and accidentally hex your toaster?”

Katie didn’t speak. Her face burned.

“Hey!” A voice cut through the air like a crack of lightning.

Gabby strode across the courtyard, black hair glinting in the sun, her Horned Serpent tie neatly knotted. Her eyes zeroed in on the boy like she was ready to hex him into next week.

“Back off, Dorian,” she snapped. “She’s been here five minutes and you’re already trying to win ‘Most Punchable Face’ for the year?”

Dorian snorted. “Relax, Gabby. If she couldn’t even spark magic until fifteen, maybe she shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re one to talk,” Gabby shot back. “Didn’t you melt your cauldron last semester trying to make a basic soothing draught?”

A few chuckles rippled nearby.

Dorian’s ears turned pink.

Before he could retaliate, a third voice joined the mix—easy, casual, but no less cutting.

“Dorian, Dorian,” Camden said as he strolled up behind Gabby, arms folded. “Your gift for original thought really is… nonexistent.”

He grinned at Katie, then looked back at Dorian. “You ever notice how people with the least magic to offer are the loudest about who deserves to be here?”

Katie blinked. Gabby smiled. Several students nearby were now openly listening.

Dorian scowled. “Whatever. You can all babysit the No-Maj.” He shoved off the pillar and stalked away toward the tower stairwell.

For a moment, the courtyard was still. Then Gabby turned to Katie.

“Are you okay?” She asked, voice much softer now.

Katie gave a shaky nod. “I… I think so. Um. What’s a ‘No-Maj’?”

Gabby blinked, then let out a small sigh. “Right. Sorry. That’s how wizards refer to non-magical people.”

“But calling someone that when they’re clearly magical?” Camden said, stepping closer. “It’s just a way of being a jerk. Doesn’t mean anything.”

Katie looked between them. “Oh.”

“He was trying to embarrass you,” Gabby said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You being here is proof he’s full of it,” Camden added. “Also, for the record, you didn’t trip on your way in, so you’re already ahead of how I started fifth year.”

That earned a small laugh from Katie.

Gabby slipped her arm through Katie’s. “Come on. You’re with us now.”

“Yeah,” Camden added, walking beside them. “And we only haze each other in very affectionate and mildly embarrassing ways.”

Katie smiled—genuinely this time.

As the three of them walked toward the corridor, Katie glanced back once, instinctively.

At the far end of the breezeway, standing partially in shadow, was Sean. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t stepped in. But his grey eyes had observed the scene like a new episode of his favorite television show.

As they passed through the Hall of Seasons, the enchanted ceiling glowed with soft morning hues, and enchanted autumn leaves drifted gently along the edges. The smell of clove and baked apples filled the air. Katie sat beside Gabby and Lucien when they reached the dining hall, nibbling at toast and trying not to overthink everything.

Professor Kettlemoss—a sharp-eyed woman with curly brown hair—strode briskly to the front of the classroom. With a flick of her wand, the chalk on the board twisted itself into a neat paper crane, wings flapping before it soared across the rafters.

“This,” she said, voice carrying over the scrape of benches, “is our week of Charms review. We will start off by reviewing Levioso. Simple. Elegant. Foundational.”

She paced between the rows, robes brushing the floor. “Focus. Intention. Control. Wandwork without purpose is just flailing about.”

Katie gripped her quill in clammy fingers. Her heart pounded in her ears. Everyone else already seemed to know how to sit straighter, how to hold their wands with casual confidence. She mimicked as best she could, telling herself not to stare at anyone too long.

Students cast it, one by one. Most of them got it right, a few seemed to have the first day jitters, and one other student almost seemed to be in the same boat as Katie.

“Lev-i-O-soh,” Kettlemoss enunciated sharply.

Her quill shot into the air and nearly skewered the boy in front of her.

Gasps and laughter rippled through the room. Katie’s face burned hot.

“Still counts,” Lucien muttered with a grin, leaning just far enough over his desk for her to hear.

Before Katie could try again, a loud pop! rattled the windows. One unfortunate student had somehow managed to charm their quill into a miniature firework; sparks hissed off the ceiling, leaving scorch marks as the whole class ducked and shrieked.

“Mr. Brightwell!” Professor Kettlemoss snapped, extinguishing the sparks with a sharp wave. “This is Levitation, not Armageddon.”

The laughter took longer to die down. Katie, cheeks still hot, slid a notebook from her bag, tearing out a page to give her hands something to do. Folding paper was safer. Familiar. She tried to remember the steps of the lily her mom had once taught her.

But her fingers fumbled. The folds came out crooked. The shape sagged, clumsy and uneven. She sighed and set it down, attempting to listen to the ongoing lecture.

Then—light.

A faint orange glow spread through the creases. The paper shifted, petals stretching, smoothing, softening until a living tiger lily lay bright in her palm. Dew gleamed along its edges. It smelled faintly of summer fields.

Katie’s breath caught. Her pulse skipped. She looked around wildly—Professor Kettlemoss hadn’t stopped lecturing, Gabby was doodling stars and flowers in her notes, and no one else had noticed.

Except him.

Sean was leaned back in his chair, casual as ever, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Did I—?” Katie whispered to no one in particular, staring at the flower.

“You should be paying attention to the lecture,” Sean said, voice low, steady, as if he hadn’t just bent reality behind her back. He nodded subtly toward the front of the room.

Katie turned quickly, clutching the flower like it might vanish, though her eyes strayed sideways again. That smirk was more prominent now.

“That boy is so smug,” Gabby hissed under her breath.

Katie pressed her chin into her palm, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Transfiguration was next as they reviewed basic altering spells. Though she tried to transfigure a coin into a beetle, she ended up with something metallic with antennae that merely twitched and clicked in a confused sort of way.

Katie turned her head slightly. The boy seated nearby was tall and narrow-shouldered, with medium-length black hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. His features were sharp, his eyes unreadable—but the glance he gave her beetle was not. It was a silent critique, sharper than any spoken word.

With calm precision, he tapped his own wand. And there it was: a perfectly round, dark green beetle appeared where the coin had been.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

Katie flushed, looking away quickly and pretending to focus on her spellbook. The ticking insect on her desk flinched with mild betrayal.

Meanwhile, Gabby excelled. She conjured the neatest bejewelled pink beetle Katie could've ever imagined—and then named it. Professor Vale reassured Katie that she shouldn't expect to excel on her first day of class.

Gabby’s beetle scuttled across her desk, glinting under the lamplight as the bell rang. Katie let out a quiet sigh, scooping her own twitching half-metal creature into the palm of her hand before discreetly vanishing it with a flick.

With the sounds of the clocktower, students began filing out in a shuffle of robes and chatter, the corridor beyond buzzing with voices and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts drifting from the dining hall. Katie followed alongside Gabby toward lunch, their conversation meandering from spell mishaps to the merits of naming your transfigured insects.

By the time they reached the Hall of Seasons, Katie’s stomach had just started to settle from the morning’s nerves. She slid onto the bench at the Horned Serpent table, but instead of diving into food and chatter like the others, she pulled her textbook closer. While Gabby tried convincing Camden that transfiguring a beetle into a miniature dragon didn’t count as “art,” Katie skimmed the densely printed pages on shield charms.

“Professor Nox will probably start with the easy stuff,” Gabby said, reaching over and flipping the pages to ‘Basic Spells & Incantations’.

“Thanks!” Katie said as her attention fell back into the book.

Her eyes tracked the diagrams—arcs of light, wand positions, intent. She mouthed the incantations under her breath between bites of bread, committing the words to memory. Every few minutes she tapped her wand against the page, practicing the sharp upward flick shown in the illustrations, her lips pressed tight with determination.

It wasn’t glamorous magic, but it was something she could grasp. Something solid. And if she was going to survive in a classroom full of students who had been practicing spells since childhood, she definitely needed something solid.

By the time lunch was over and they were climbing the worn stone steps toward Defense Against the Dark Arts, her food sat mostly untouched. But the word—Protego—beat steadily in her head like a drum.

Professor Nox gave a commanding presence, a scarred cheek gave the impression she’d personally wrestled something with large claws into submission. The classroom was lined with protective symbols and moving diagrams of magical creatures, their parchment bodies shifting restlessly on the walls.

Katie and Gabby were paired together for dueling.

“Try not to get obliterated,” Camden said breezily as he passed by, spinning his wand between his fingers.

Gabby stuck her tongue out at him.

Katie swallowed hard. Her pulse pounded, but under the nerves was a flicker of determination. She was going to get this—if only to wipe the smug look off Camden’s face when he spun past again.

Professor Nox’s voice cut across the room like a blade. “As you should know by now, this week will be fully dedicated to review. You are limited to the basic cast and shielding spell! Those are your lifelines today. No flourish, no clever variations—just the shield charm. If you cannot defend, you cannot fight.”

Katie’s stomach lurched. Heat crept up her neck.

Gabby gave her a quick smile, adjusting her stance. “Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

Katie raised her wand, knuckles white. A few minutes of reading was not even close to the same as standing face-to-face with someone ready to hurl magic at her.

“Begin,” Nox commanded.

A spark burst from Gabby’s wand. Katie flinched and shouted, “Protego!” The shield flickered into existence—thin, fragile, more like a soap bubble than a wall. The spell hit, and the shield shattered with a sharp crack. Katie stumbled back, her shoes squeaking against the stone floor.

Nox’s voice cut through the laughter from nearby pairs. “Focus! Defense is not fear. It is intention. Again.”

Katie’s hands trembled. She raised her wand, inhaling sharply. Gabby mouthed a quick, “You got this.”

The next spell came faster. Katie clenched her jaw, thrust her wand forward. “Protego!”

This time, the barrier held—just barely. The spell fizzled against it, sparks raining harmlessly to the floor. For half a second, Katie almost smiled. Then the shield dissolved like mist.

“Better,” Nox said, her expression unreadable. “But better is not enough. Again.”

Katie’s wand slipped once, and her shield charm fizzled. Gabby whispered encouragement, even as she had to block a rebound.

After class, Katie lingered behind to tuck her wand away. Sean passed by, silent as a shadow, and slowed only enough to glance her way.

"You held your ground," he said softly.

Katie blinked, startled. "Barely."

He shrugged, expression unreadable. "It's still something."

Then he was gone.

The corridors outside the Defense classroom still hummed with the leftover tension of dueling practice—students laughing, swapping exaggerated retellings of near-misses and spectacular hits.

Katie kept mostly quiet, the faint thrum of adrenaline still in her hands from holding a wand too tightly. Sean’s voice from moments ago also lingered in her mind.

'It’s still something.'

She wasn’t sure if he’d meant it as encouragement or a simple observation, but either way, it had lodged itself in her chest like a pebble she couldn’t shake loose. Gabby chattered beside her about Camden’s “show-off footwork” until the scent of lavender and crushed thyme began to replace the dusty tang of chalk and spell residue in the air. The change in fragrance, and the gentle warmth spilling from the next classroom, was enough to make Katie’s shoulders ease as they stepped into Healing Arts.

Professor Leclerc greeted them in a room filled with soft sunlight and herbal scents. There were potted dittany plants and softly glowing jars of essence.

Katie felt different here. Focused. Whole. When asked to mend a superficial cut on a practice dummy, her spell worked the first time. The cut stitched itself closed with a silver glow.

Even Professor Leclerc raised her brows. "That’s excellent control for a first casting."

Katie’s ears burned. Gabby nudged her.

"You know, compliments are a good thing."

After a long day of first classes, while studying in the common room, Katie caught Sean glancing her way from across the hearth. She had noticed it more than once that day—his attention lingering, watching her when he thought she wouldn’t see. It made something inside her twist with unease. Her fingers, without thinking, drifted to the necklace she always wore, grasping the pendant as if it might anchor her to reality. His eyes—the grey of stormlight on water—held something unreadable. Not confusion. Not curiosity. Something older.

Katie looked away, heart fluttering. There was something there. Something she couldn’t name. 

But, somewhere deep inside, part of her remembered him, too.

Katie stood beneath a silver sky.

The air was heavy with silence, as if sound itself had been banished. Soft white fog coiled around her ankles, thick and chill, muffling the world. All around her, robed figures stood in a circle—still and solemn, their faces hidden beneath shadowed hoods. Some held glowing lanterns; others carried flowers that shimmered faintly, pulsing with unseen magic.

At the center of the circle lay two caskets draped in ivy and old runes, their wood deep and blackened like storm-wet bark. Something in Katie's chest ached when she looked at them—an echo of grief without a name.

She didn’t know why she was there.

She looked down. Her feet were bare again. The grass beneath them glowed faintly blue, like moonlight trapped in each blade. The ground hummed gently, as if trying to speak.

She turned her head.

Just beyond the circle, standing apart from the other mourners, was a young boy. He looked about ten or eleven, with pale skin and a mop of platinum-blonde hair that caught the dim light. His hand was tightly clasped in that of a tall woman with the same fair hair, though her eyes never left the caskets.

The boy looked directly at Katie.

His eyes were strange—grey, but shifting. Not cold. Sad.

She blinked, and a soft wind passed between them. The fog rippled.

When she looked again, the boy was still staring, but something in his expression had changed. Recognition. And something else—regret?

He mouthed something.

Katie strained to read his lips.

"I'm sorry."

But the wind picked up, scattering petals from the mourners’ flowers into the air like tiny falling stars. The boy had let go of the woman’s hand and made a step forward—

And the dream broke.

Katie sat up in bed, breath caught in her throat. There were no tears on her face, but her pillow felt damp. The memory of the dream slipped like mist through her fingers, leaving only a nameless weight in her chest… and the image of a boy with storm-colored eyes, watching her from the other side of goodbye.

Chapter Text

The days passed in a blur of classes, floating candles, whispered enchantments, and the distant chimes of the clocktower. Katie found herself slipping slowly into the rhythm of things. The castle no longer felt like a museum of magic she’d accidentally wandered into—it was beginning to feel like something else.

Not quite home.

But close.

It was late one afternoon, Katie and Gabby lounged in the courtyard under the golden sky. Katie had taken out her colored pencils and notebook to sketch the plants they had learned about in the last couple of weeks. Her hand seemed to work mindlessly until she looked up from the textbook.

Camden, Sean, and other Quidditch team members were walking by with levitated benches; they had been told something about clearing the courtyard for dueling practice.

Katie remembered what Mrs. Daley had said about the hours of the afternoon that photographers referred to as “golden hour”.

The way the sun shone through every strand of Sean’s hair, creating almost a shimmering golden halo, was picturesque. She thought about the way he sounded as he allowed himself to truly laugh with Camden. ‘There’s something about the way he moves—so precise, but casual, like he’s unaware of how naturally confident he looks.’ Katie didn’t realize she had the unsharpened end of the pencil at her lower lip.

“You’re staring,” Gabby said, smiling.

“NO,” she shook her head, “I was just… looking at the benches and wondering—”

“Sure you were,” she traced one of the complete sketches with her finger gently without smudging. “That’s why your pencil stopped moving over three minutes ago.”

Katie felt the heat rushing to her face and quickly diverted her attention to the ground. She whispered to Gabby, “he’s just… interesting. I mean, he always seems like he’s thinking about something more important than this place.”

“Mysterious AND brooding—classic Horned Serpent boy crush.” Gabby elbowed her lightly, “want me to tell him you think he’s cute?”

Katie groaned into her hands, “absolutely not.”

“What if I whisper it to the storm cloud and let it float him the message?” She exaggerated the hand gesture.

“Gabby!” She said a little too loudly.

Sean and Camden were both looking over now, and the moment Sean found Katie’s eyes was when she accidentally whacked herself in the face with her sketchbook, only meaning to shield her pink face from his vision.

“He’s smiling,” Gabby reported softly.

Katie continued to hold the notebook up while using her other hand to rub where it had collided, “I barely know him.”

“You will.”

After Magical Botany class ended on Friday morning, Katie and Sean walked side-by-side following the traffic flow between the greenhouses and the transfiguration tower. It started off with the tension and no sounds except the dried leaves scrunching on the ground. When the silence became too loud, Katie brought up class.

“I just started noticing something strange with my Moonbloom plant. The petals closed when I got too close.”

Sean took a moment to respond, “they react to emotional aura. If you were nervous or distracted, it would close up.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that. I thought I was just bad at caring for it.”

“No. Actually… that’s a good sign. They only react like that if they’re attuned to the person handling them.”

“So I accidentally bonded with a moody flower,” Katie smiled.

“Happens to the best of us,” Sean smirked.

After a few steps, Katie realized the lack of conversation was the root cause of the heavy tension.

“Do you have a favorite plant?” She quickly asked without thinking.

Sean shrugged, “probably Nightshade. It’s quiet. Strong. Misunderstood.”

Katie smiled, “that sounds... personal.”

“Maybe,” his barely-existent smile dissolved as he watched the ground they were pacing.

“Mine’s Mellowvine... so far. The smell reminds me of something, but I can’t figure out what.”

“Maybe it’s not a memory at all. Maybe it’s just something waiting to become one.”

Katie looked over at him, briefly caught off guard by the thoughtfulness in his tone. In his eyes, she could tell he saw through her statement: a poor attempt at discovering the roots of their familiarity. They walked the rest of the way to the greenhouse in quiet synchronization.

That afternoon, after an especially clumsy attempt at a conjuring charm (her summoned teacup had two handles and constantly vibrated), Katie wandered toward the vast wooden doors of the school library.

“Big plans?” Gabby asked as she caught up, a handful of glittery notebooks in her arms.

“I want to see if they have anything on… 'late-blooming magic',” Katie said, choosing her words carefully.

Gabby tilted her head. “You mean, like, magically repressed gifts?”

Katie shrugged. “Something like that.”

Inside, the Ilvermorny library stretched wider than it looked from the outside—charmed shelves arched and curved like growing trees, branching into alcoves lit with candlelight or enchanted lanterns. The smell of old parchment, polished oak, and the faintest touch of sage hung in the air.

Gabby flitted off to the Divination aisle, promising not to interrupt unless she found something “really spooky”. Katie browsed alone for a while, fingertips grazing the cracked leather spines, before settling on a section about magical development and anomalies. She pulled a dusty volume free, fighting back the urge to sneeze, and flipped until she found a chapter titled, "Resurgence: Spontaneous Manifestation in Adolescents."

Her eyes widened. Every case described felt eerily familiar—sudden spellbursts, untraceable magical lineage, even memory gaps.

She closed the book with a sigh and leaned back, trying to settle her thoughts. As her eyes drifted across the shelves, something caught her attention—a green-covered volume, tucked just out of place. Its spine shimmered faintly with gold markings that curled in intricate loops, somewhat similar to the pattern on her necklace.

Drawn to it, Katie rose and gently pulled the book free. It was older, the kind of book that smelled of moss and candle smoke. There was no title on the spine, but when she opened it, she found handwritten notes and drawings—part history, part personal reflection.

One page held a sketch of a gnarled, spiraling tree with rune-like grooves etched deep into the bark. Beneath it, in delicate ink, was written: “The Snakewood, born from the wand of Salazar Slytherin, buried by Isolt Sayre to prevent its misuse.”

She touched the drawing. Her wand—a spiral of snakewood and cherry wood surrounding the abnormal core of a Horned Serpent scale and dittany leaf—suddenly felt heavier in her robes, as though it too recognized the page.

A voice interrupted her reverie.

“Trying to find your roots?”

Katie turned. The boy who had conjured the perfect beetle in class stood a few feet away, arms crossed, half-hidden in the dim light between shelves. His gaze was sharp but not unkind.

“Just curious,” Katie said, closing the book partway.

“You’re not the first student to go digging for Sayre’s secrets,” he said. “But you might be the first one the school itself reacts to.”

Katie blinked. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Sorting statue nearly launches itself from its podium. Runes glowing brighter. That kind of thing. Some of us notice.”

Katie studied him. "You don’t trust people easily."

He smirked, crossing his arms. "Neither do you."

Gabby popped her head around the shelf. “You two bonding or brooding? Because I found a book that says someone once married a ghost, and I need emotional support.”

The boy rolled his eyes and walked off, muttering something about "social chaos."

Gabby slid up beside Katie, raising an eyebrow. "That was Nick. Nicholas Blackwater. Don’t take it personally—he’s like that with everyone. We’ve known each other since we were kids."

Katie smiled to herself and followed Gabby out, the green book still cradled in her arms.

Back in their dorm room, Katie sat on the edge of her mattress, reading the text while brushing her hair, Gabby lay on her stomach flipping through a fashion magazine.

She turned again to the page of the Snakewood tree.

“Hey, Gabby?” Katie asked, voice low.

“Yeah?”

“Who was Isolt Sayre? I mean, I know she founded Ilvermorny, but… no one’s really talked about her much in class.

Gabby looked up. “Oh! She was from Ireland. Ran away from dark stuff, started this place with her husband. Took in magical and No-Maj kids, too. Kinda amazing, honestly.”

Katie pulled her hair back in a messy bun atop her head, ready for bed.

"Some professors say her story got twisted around a lot over time. All that ‘descended from Salazar Slytherin but founded a school that welcomed everyone’ stuff made people uncomfortable back in the day. So I guess they don’t want to risk telling it wrong." Gabby yawned, "You'd probably have more luck finding ties to her in Horned Serpent's Atramentum than the library, honestly."

Katie yawned. She would ask about Salazar Slytherin and the Atramentum later when her eyelids weren't seemingly weighted with lead.

Chapter Text

Katie had barely finished her morning toast when Gabby grabbed her by the wrist and practically dragged her out of the dining hall. “Care of Magical Creatures! Come on, we’re going to be late—Professor Wynn has that anti-lateness charm on the gate."

They hurried across a moss-covered footbridge that spanned a gurgling brook, its stones slick with mist. The path curved through the edge of the forest, where creatures chittered and rustled just out of view.

Professor Wynn stood at the front of the outdoor Magical Creatures enclosure, his sunhat slightly askew and his wand tucked behind his ear like a pencil. “Today’s topic,” he said with a wide grin, “is the Bumbleroot.”

He stepped aside with a flourish, revealing a small, mossy creature that looked like a cross between a baby deer and a tree stump. It had leafy ears, bark-textured skin, and wide, wary eyes that blinked at the students.

“Awwww,” Katie whispered. Gabby leaned closer and added, “Looks like it’s permanently anxious. Like a magical therapist’s dream patient.”

Dorian scoffed from the other side of the pen. “It’s a plant. What’s it going to do, photosynthesize me to death?”

Professor Wynn, overhearing, raised a brow. “Bumbleroots are highly sensitive. They respond strongly to negative energy. So I suggest you avoid being, shall we say… your usual self, Mr. Blackwell.”

Snickers rose from the students.

“Each pair will attempt to harvest a small vial of sap from your Bumbleroot’s bark. Be gentle. Be kind. Or you’ll get what’s coming.” Professor Wynn waved them off. “Begin!”

He gave her a lopsided grin as they approached their enclosure. "Ready to get sticky?"

Katie stared at the creature inside the fence as Camden crouched and offered a sugar root gently in his palm. The Bumbleroot flinched.

Katie folded her arms. "It’s more afraid of you than you are of it."

Camden feigned a gasp. "But I’m adorable."

Katie rolled her eyes. "That’s debatable."

It took time, but together they coaxed the Bumbleroot out. Katie was gentle, whispering as she reached toward its bark. When she touched it, the creature stilled. A silvery glow rose from beneath her fingertips, and the sap flowed easily into the collection vial.

Camden blinked. "That was... impressive."

Katie shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I guess it likes me." For once, her hands hadn’t fumbled. Her magic had listened.

As Katie handed the vial to Camden, across the pen, Dorian had found a stick nearby and was attempting to scrape the sample of sap from the creature.

It squeaked.

It squealed.

Then it exploded in a burst of pollen and flailing roots, launching Dorian backward into a pile of compost. The entire class burst into laughter.

Gabby called from across the pen, “Next time, try kindness before compost, Dorian!”

Professor Wynn didn’t even flinch. “I warned you.”

Dorian sat up, covered in slime and leaves, spitting something green. “It bit me! The twig bit me!”

“It’s not a twig,” Nick bluntly stated. “It’s more sentient than you.”

Someone nearby stifled a laugh.

Professor Wynn approached, crouched beside the trembling Bumbleroot, and murmured soothingly. The creature blinked at him, then nestled into the earth like nothing had happened.

“Some of us,” he said loudly, helping the Bumbleroot recover, “may wish to write an essay on why emotional regulation matters when dealing with magical flora."

By the end of class, Katie’s robe sleeves were stained with leaf residue and dirt, but her heart felt light. She had done something right. Something kind.

As the students filed out, Professor Wynn approached her quietly. "You have a natural hand for creatures," he said. "Especially ones that many...may find difficult." He barely nodded toward Dorian, still dripping with sap and pollen.

Katie flushed and smiled. "Thank you." Professor Wynn returned to his desk.

Camden leaned toward Katie as she gathered her things. “Ten galleons says he uses that sap as hair gel tomorrow.”

Katie grinned. “I’m not betting against that. His hair has improved.”

“That’s because he finally discovered shampoo,” a voice cut in from behind her. Katie turned to find a boy with tousled dark hair, a lopsided grin, and eyes that looked like he’d just gotten away with something. He leaned casually against Nick’s desk, holding a quill like it was a wand in a duel.

“Lucien Tremblay,” he introduced himself, sweeping an exaggerated bow that almost sent the quill flying. “Resident expert on bad hair days, maple syrup theft, and—apparently—interrupting perfectly good conversations.”

Katie blinked, caught between amusement and confusion. “...Maple syrup theft?”

“Long story,” Lucien said with mock solemnity. “Involves an angry innkeeper, a goose, and Nick here pretending not to know me for a week.”

Nick shook his head, trying not to laugh. “You deserved it.”

Lucien grinned wider. “See? That’s friendship.”

The laughter from class still echoed faintly in her mind as she wandered back toward the Tower. The path dipped behind Horned Serpent, winding past the outer grove where moonlight often caught between the trees. That’s when she noticed it—a flicker of gold light between the trunks.

She stepped closer.

There, nestled among stones at the base of a tree, lay a tiny bouquet of wildflowers. A single candle floated beside it, its flame flickering without melting. A small plaque read: ‘In memory of Isolt Sayre.’

William, the old Pukwudgie caretaker, stood nearby, not bothering to hide his presence.

"She always liked yellow asters," he said, without turning.

Katie stared at the flowers. "You knew her. Didn’t you?"

William’s long ears twitched. He looked at her at last. "Many say that," he said slowly. "I didn't."

He turned to walk away, then paused and looked back at Katie for a quiet moment.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves overhead, stirring the yellow asters ever so slightly.

Katie turned to leave, also, but halted as something shifted near the roots of the memorial tree.

A small dark snake, no longer than her forearm, slid silently from beneath the stone and paused beside her foot.

It lifted its head and seemed to stare, tongue flicking.

Katie didn’t move. Her breath caught as the wind spoke, almost sounding like it was carrying syllables she couldn’t grasp.

When she looked back to the ground, the snake was gone, having slithered away into the shadows.

Katie stood frozen for a long moment, hand still clutching her pendant. There was more to this place than anyone was saying. And more to her, too.

She turned and finally finished walking back toward the tower, a little less certain of who she was—and more curious than ever.

This time she wouldn't forget.

Chapter Text

"Lumos maxima."

It started with a flick of her wand that sent a jet of blue sparks that nearly singed Camden's sleeve.

"Whoa!" Camden yelped, ducking. "Trying to burn me alive, Daley?"

"Sorry!" Katie winced, lowering her wand.

"Lumos projects light, not heat, Mr. Taylor." Professor Kettlemoss barely looked up from her seat at the front of the room, quill scratching lazily across a parchment. "Focus, Miss Daley. Wandwork is intention and control."

Katie let out a breath and turned back to the practice dummy in front of her. This was the fourth attempt. Every flick felt like a guess. Every failure chipped a little more at the fragile thing she was calling confidence. "Intention and control," she muttered under her breath.

"Try tilting your wrist less," a voice beside her said gently. Katie glanced sideways to find Sean.

He had wandered over from where his partner, some sleepy-looking sixth-year boy, was halfheartedly flicking light spells at the wall. Sean didn't seem in a rush to return.

"Like this," he said, demonstrating the motion with effortless grace.

Katie copied him, then tried the spell again. This time, the spell hit the mark on the target dummy, leaving a satisfying glow.

She turned her attention to Sean, finding a small smile.

A faint pulse rippled through the air—subtle, like the crackle of distant thunder. Katie stiffened. Her wand faintly pulsated in her hand, the magic humming stronger than when she was casting. She blinked. But it hadn’t been part of the spell. The hum had felt older; closer to something inside than from her wand.

"That was better," Sean said quietly beside her, his tone steady and unjudging. "You had the shape of it that time. It almost held."

Katie looked up at him, uncertain if he was simply being polite. But his face was again unreadable, his voice genuine.

Katie forced a soft smile, avoiding direct eye contact, "thank you."

They stood there for much longer than necessary. The sounds of the classroom faded just a little.

Katie tilted her head. "Why do you always look at me like you know something I don't?"

Sean blinked. "Do I?"

"You tell me."

He gave her a shrug and a small, almost unreadable smile. "Maybe I'm just good at reading people."

Katie folded her arms, unconvinced. "It's not just that. I've seen you do it more than once. It's like you almost know me."

His eyes-a stormy, shifting grey-lingered on her face. "Maybe we met at some point?” He shrugged, “I don't know. You're different. That's all."

Before Katie could push further, Professor Kettlemoss clapped her hands. "Switch partners!"

Katie and Sean hesitated for a second more, then separated.

Later, as class ended, Gabby caught up to Katie just outside the door. "So. You and Sean had a moment."

Katie flushed. "We were practicing a charm."

"Sure," Gabby said with a knowing smirk.

Katie ignored her but reached instinctively for the pendant at her throat. The golden knot was cool beneath her fingers.

"Anyway," Gabby continued. "He is cute. You could do much worse."

Katie rolled her eyes. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yet," Gabby sang, bumping her shoulder gently before disappearing into the crowd. “Come find me if you need an ear—or a partner who won’t flirt mid-spell.”

Katie lingered in the hallway as more students trickled out of the classroom. She spotted Sean slinging his bag over one shoulder. Before he had a chance to catch her, she changed her mind to talk and turned, starting quickly down the hall. She took a deep breath, trying to shake the lingering self-consciousness of her performance in class, and of him.

"Still having trouble lighting your night light?" Came a voice, sharp as a snap of static.

She flinched.

Dorian stood casually against the column just beyond the archway, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed.

"Maybe you should ask Professor Kettlemoss if there's a 'Lumos Patheticus' spell instead. It'd suit you."

Katie's stomach dropped. She kept walking, but her grip on her wand tightened.

"Fifteen years to prove you’re a witch. Another fifteen to light a corridor?"

Before Katie could even think of a response, a shadow fell between them.

Sean had stepped forward-calm, quiet, but with a presence that seemed to hush the air.

"You know," he said, voice dry, "your obsession with other people's progress is fascinating, Dorian. You might want to see someone about that."

Dorian scowled. "Don't you have somewhere else to—?"

Sean cut in, his tone still calm but icier now. "If you'd spent half as much time practicing spells as you do belittling people, you might've cast a halfway decent Lumos Maxima yourself today."

A couple of students passing by let out muffled snorts.

"But sure," Sean added, "go ahead. Keep embarrassing yourself trying to impress the shadows. How did you manage removing the sap from your robes, by the way?" Sean smirked at the last part.

Dorian's mouth opened, then shut. With a stiff glance at Katie, he turned and stalked off down the corridor.

Silence settled.

Katie glanced up at Sean, astonished. "You didn't have to do that."

He shrugged. "No. But I wanted to."

"I couldn't even get the light to stay longer than a second..."

Sean turned to her, his gaze steady. "You're not the only one who struggled with that spell the first time."

He started down the hall, then paused.

"You'll get it," he added. "Probably sooner than he ever will."

Katie watched him go, still flushed.

She walked away only when the corridor had emptied, the ghost of Sean’s words echoing louder than any spell she’d cast.

Chapter Text

By the time Horned Serpent's first Quidditch match of the year rolled around, the entire school was buzzing with anticipation. The stands—painted in shifting house colors—were packed with students wrapped in scarves and enchanted cloaks, and the air thrummed with excitement.

Katie had barely found a spot near Gabby and Lucien before a sharp whistle blew and players launched into the air. Sean, the Seeker, shot upward like a silver streak, his platinum blond hair catching in the sunlight. Camden followed with his beater’s bat at the ready, already grinning like this was the best part of being alive.

It was the first time Katie had seen a Quidditch match in person. Her jaw dropped as she tried to follow the blurs of motion—players zoomed, dodged, and dipped with practiced agility.

“What are they doing?” she asked, eyes wide.

Gabby beamed. "Trying not to die, mostly."

Lucien leaned in. "She means they're trying to score. And Sean? He’s looking for the Snitch—tiny golden ball with wings. Catching it ends the game."

Katie nodded slowly, her eyes still scanning the skies.

A Bludger screamed past Sean’s shoulder—Camden intercepted just in time, his bat ringing like a bell as it slammed the iron ball back toward a startled Wampus Chaser. The crowd roared, and Katie couldn’t believe how chaotic and precise it all was.

Then Sean dove.

The crowd held its breath as he tucked into a tight spiral. Katie’s heart leapt to her throat. Without thinking, she grasped Gabby’s wrist—and squeezed.

"Ow! Okay, nails," Gabby hissed, trying to pry her hand free.

Katie didn’t hear her. All she could see was Sean hurtling toward the ground, a streak of platinum and grey, chasing the Snitch like a comet.

A flash of gold zipped through the air, and for a few dazzling seconds, it looked like he might miss—then his hand snapped closed around it.

Cheers erupted.

Horned Serpent had won.

That night, the common room was more alive than Katie had ever seen it. Floating lanterns changed colors with the music, and someone had enchanted the carpet to pulse like a drum. A victory feast appeared, summoned by upperclassmen with impressive flair.

Katie was sipping on her first Violet Fizzy, the Horned Serpent's house bubble drink. Across the room, she caught sight of Maren—the quiet girl she’d met her first week—perched in an armchair near the fireplace with a book balanced on her knee. Even here, with music thudding and laughter spilling over the tables, Maren seemed to exist in her own calm orbit, only glancing up now and then to watch the celebration.

Katie turned back just as a sixth-year girl with sleek hair and confident charm slid up beside Sean. She leaned in close, kissed his cheek quickly, and he whispered something in her ear.

He smiled—a real one. Katie knew that Sean didn’t smile like that often; in the short time she’d known him, his expressions were more reserved, wry at most. That easy curve of his mouth felt… rare. Meant for someone else.

Her chest gave a sharp twist, and suddenly—

The summer air smelled of cut grass and lilacs, the sound of children’s laughter echoing across the village green. He was there, pale hair bright as a dime in the sunlight, darting across the field with a Quaffle under his arm.

They were not airborne. Instead, hoops had been set up at ground level, and the children ran the pitch with boundless energy, tossing, blocking, and chasing a little enchanted Snitch that zipped barely two feet off the ground. Fireflies blinked lazily over the grass, weaving light like tiny lanterns in the dusk, drifting in and out of the children’s laughter.

Katie had clapped excitedly at first, watching Sean score easily past a boy twice his size. But then another girl—Annie, all ribbons and freckles—sprinted up beside him. She passed the Quaffle back and forth with him, giggling every time their hands brushed it seemed. Sean grinned at her, not his usual quiet smile, but a big, easy one.

Katie’s little stomach knotted. She had marched onto the field, determined to join. But in her haste, she tripped over her own shoes and went down hard, knees scraping the gravel surrounding the grassy field. Tears had sprung hot to her eyes—not from the sting, but from humiliation as the entire game slowed and Sean ran over, concern etched on his face.

“You okay?” he’d asked, offering his hand.

Katie had yanked it away, trying to look brave. “I’m fine!” But her lip trembled.

Annie had frowned sympathetically, but Katie didn’t want her sympathy.

And as that wanting twisted sharper, hotter—she noticed the field had gone strangely dim. The laughter still rang, the game still moved, but all around her the magical fireflies were gone. Every single one had vanished, as if snuffed out at once.

The memory vanished as quickly as it had come, and Katie found herself staring down at the Violet Fizzy, bubbles still frantically fizzing against her cup, much like her own nerves. The sweetness was now overpowering, not helping the sour stone that had dropped in her stomach. Now the victory cheers within the walls of the tower were nothing but blurred noise.

It wasn’t Mia's kiss that bothered her. It was the way he looked like he meant what he said—whatever he said.

Katie’s earlier smile was history. She set her mug down before it spilled, her fingers loosening around the handle as if contemplating.

Across the way, Sean’s gaze flicked toward her—brief, searching. If he caught the shift in her posture or the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, he didn’t let on, but the glance lingered just a fraction too long.

From her armchair, Maren tilted her head slightly, watching Katie with quiet curiosity before turning back to her book.

Katie’s stomach twisted.

She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable, and stood. Gabby called after her, but she just waved and slipped quietly out.

The astronomy tower was quiet and still. Stars blanketed the sky, sharp and cold like scattered glass. A breeze tugged at her curls, and the cool night air smelled faintly of pine and candlewax.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there before she heard footsteps behind her.

“Camden said you walked out,” Sean said from behind her, his voice quiet. “Figured I’d check the most secluded places first.”

Katie didn’t look at him. “I just needed some air.”

He didn’t speak right away. The silence stretched between them, filled with distant music and the rustle of trees below.

“You okay?” he finally asked.

Katie hesitated. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know,” Sean said, his tone unreadable. “Maybe because you walked out after seeing me with Mia.”

She felt her face flush. “It’s a free country—you can talk to whoever you want.”

Sean came to lean beside her. “I can. But I wasn’t the one watching someone else like they’d kicked my Kneazle.”

Katie huffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he asked, smirking slightly. “Because you’re the one sulking on a tower in the middle of the night.”

Katie looked at him finally, eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t sulking. And what does it matter? This is probably the most you’ve ever said to me.”

Sean didn’t flinch. “Maybe that’s because you’ve only just started noticing.”

Katie blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He turned to face her more fully. “You keep everyone at arm’s length.”

Katie’s eyes focused on the sky. “Funnily enough, I could say the same about you."

A silence passed between them, less sharp now.

Sean broke it. “For what it’s worth—I wasn’t flirting back.”

Katie glanced sideways. “You smiled.”

“Out of politeness,” he said. “It's not like I was purposely charming her.”

Katie shifted, folding her arms. “It reminded me of something. When I was little—at least, I think I was little—I remember a girl. Annie. She was playing some sort of game with you… it looked like a version of Quidditch without brooms. You smiled at her the same way.” She sighed and hugged her knees. “And I hated it.”

Sean froze, just for a breath, then let out a soft huff as though he was almost amused. “That’s a strange dream.”

Katie turned toward him, her expression steady with the slightest hint of aggravation. “It wasn't just ‘a strange dream’. And I know it was you. I remember your hair catching the light—just like it does now. And another kid used your name.”

For a moment, something flickered in his grey eyes. Then he masked it with a shrug, casually redirecting. “Dreams, memories—they blur together sometimes. Besides…” he nudged her shoulder, smirk slipping back into place, “we’re not talking about some girl Annie, are we? We’re talking about how jealous you were tonight.”

Katie scoffed. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, with the barest grin. “But you like me anyway.”

Katie blushed but didn’t argue.

Somewhere below them, fireworks sparked in the sky—green and silver lighting up the clouds. She didn’t say it aloud, but something in her chest echoed with each burst—loud, sudden, impossible to ignore.

Sean sighed, “Camden is going to get detention for a week.”

Neither of them said another word.

But when they left the tower together, something between them had shifted.

Chapter Text

The walk back from the astronomy tower was quiet, but no longer heavy with tension. The moonlight filtered through the enchanted windows lining the corridor, casting long ribbons of silver across the floor.

Katie stole a glance at Sean beside her. His expression was calm, unreadable as ever, but his shoulder brushed hers gently as they walked in step.

As they turned a corner near the Horned Serpent common room, she felt it—his hand, warm and steady, sliding into hers.

Katie looked up at him in surprise, but Sean didn’t look back. He just held her hand, as if he always had.

She didn’t pull away.

The common room was still buzzing with celebration. Floating lanterns danced to the rhythm of soft music, casting gold and blue glows across the stone walls. Someone had conjured glowing bubbles that floated lazily through the air, and the scent of cinnamon and butter lingered from the evening’s feast.

Gabby spotted them almost immediately.

“There you are!” she cried, bounding over. “I was just about to go looking for you in case you fell off the tower or—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze dropping to their joined hands.

Katie’s face turned scarlet.

Gabby’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you—? Did you—? What happened?”

Sean smiled. “We walked and talked. That’s all.”

“Talked?” Gabby echoed, clearly unconvinced. She turned on Katie. “She's been blushing since you walked through the door!”

Katie opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say.

Gabby grinned like it was her birthday. “This is so cute I could scream.”

Sean gently gave Katie’s hand a small squeeze—but didn’t let go. Instead, as the music swelled in the background, he guided her closer to the center of the common room.

“Katie Daley,” he said under his breath, “may I have this dance?”

Before she could answer, he was already moving with her, slow and steady.

Katie’s breath caught. She followed his lead, unsure but smiling—until she spotted the sixth-year girl from earlier across the room, watching them with narrowed eyes.

Sean leaned in slightly, his voice low. “Ignore her. She’s not who I’m dancing with.”

“But something happened, right?” Gabby asked, appearing beside them as if it were a dance for three partners.

Sean didn’t answer right away. He just glanced at Katie, then said, “We’re figuring it out.”

Katie smiled shyly, cheeks still pink.

Lucien appeared behind her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s all this noise?”

Gabby turned dramatically. “Romance!”

“L'amour.” Lucien quickly raised and dropped his eyebrows, eyes reflecting the short statement.

Camden strolled up next, munching on a sugar quill. “Wait—what did I miss?”

Gabby pointed at Katie and Sean with both hands. “Them!”

Camden squinted. “You two? Seriously?”

Sean gave him a look. “Problem?”

Camden grinned. “Nope. Just didn’t expect you to make a move before the next ice age.”

Katie groaned. “Not you too.”

“I’m just saying,” Camden said, holding up his hands. “This better not make practice weird.”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Everything is already weird, Camden.”

Katie covered her face, trying not to laugh, and even Sean cracked another small smile.

Camden turned to Gabby with a mock bow. “Well, since everyone’s getting romantic tonight—care to dance?”

Gabby beamed. “I thought you’d never ask!” She grabbed his hand and twirled dramatically toward the music.

Left alone again, Sean and Katie continued to dance, the glow of the lanterns swirling around them.

Katie leaned in slightly. "I'm still mad at you, by the way."

Sean raised an eyebrow. “Because of Mia?”

Katie shook her head. “No. Because you never really responded to my question in Charms.”

Sean's smile faded. “Katie—”

She met his eyes. “You knew me, Sean. And I know you remember me, too. I can tell. You're not the only one ‘good at reading people’.”

Sean didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at her—really looked at her—and then he leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss ended too soon. For a second, the room seemed to hold its breath—then a sharp pop broke the silence—followed by another. Several glass jars of candy had exploded off a nearby shelf.

In that moment, there was only Sean. Katie felt everything inside her still, as if her entire world had narrowed to a single point of light and warmth. She didn’t know where this would go, but she knew one thing: she didn’t want to let go.

Until the moment passed—and Katie heard a loud, exaggerated gasp.

Camden and Gabby stood a few feet away, both frozen mid-dance, like statues in a spell gone wrong.

Gabby’s mouth was open in pure delight. “Oh. My. Stars.”

Camden raised an eyebrow. “Well, that escalated quickly.” There was a crunch when he took a step with Gabby, lifting his foot and checking the bottom of his shoe for glass.

Katie pulled back, her face instantly flushing with embarrassment. She stood there asking if this was all real, quickly realizing the filter between thought and voice had been temporarily disabled.

Sean just looked amused. Then he leaned in and whispered in Katie’s ear, “Not unless you want it to be.”

Katie didn’t answer with words. Instead, she gently squeezed his hands, her eyes shimmering under the lantern light. A soft smile played on her lips as she met his gaze—steady and certain. It wasn’t loud or grand, but it was clear.

Yes.

Somewhere in the common room, someone started up another round of music, and the floating lanterns rose higher, spinning slowly in the air.

A faint grumbling noise sounded from the far side of the room, followed by a disgruntled mutter. The magical cloud janitor drifted in through the archway, a plump little cumulus. It tutted at the shattered candy jars, swirling over to sweep up the glass in neat spirals of wind.

It paused mid-gust to cast what Katie could only interpret as a knowing glance in their direction, puffing out its middle as if making an accusation, before bustling off toward another mess by the fireplace.

“I'm still not letting go of that conversation, Sean.”

“I know,” he said, quieter now.

Chapter Text

Katie sat in Magical Theory, her quill poised but unmoving. The classroom was unlike any other she’d been in—arched windows filtered pale sunlight through enchanted panes, casting a soft blue glow across shelves of ancient tomes and suspended diagrams of magical currents. It smelled of parchment, ink, and something faintly metallic—like raw spellwork lingering in the air.

Professor Thimble, with her tall frame and white braid falling like a ribbon down her back, addressed the class with piercing clarity. “Magical Theory is about more than how spells work. It is about why they work. Why magic responds to emotion. Why certain witches and wizards transcend their limits. Why magic, sometimes, answers without being called.”

Katie scribbled dutiful notes, though her attention wavered. She could feel Sean’s presence a few desks away, calm and quiet. Every now and then, she caught him watching her, eyes unreadable. Each glance sent her heart fluttering uncomfortably.

Professor Thimble instructed them to pair off for a diagramming exercise. Katie hadn’t even turned to look when Sean approached, measured and composed.

“Mind if I join you before Camden claims you for his chaos?” he asked lightly, pulling up a chair.

Katie smirked. “Camden’s not so bad.”

“He’s hazardous with ink.”

They settled into the assignment, sketching out theoretical spell matrices. Katie found herself relaxing in the rhythm of lines and symbols—until Sean leaned closer to examine her diagram.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured.

She arched a brow. “You’re just copying mine.”

“Am I?”

Their arms brushed. The contact was fleeting—barely there—but it was enough. Something ignited beneath her skin, searing and uncontrollable. Katie’s breath caught as her pulse roared in her ears. The quill slipped from her fingers—

And then the world exploded.

Magic tore through her like a live wire, flooding every nerve. It poured from her fingertips in a white-hot surge, brighter than any cast of Lumos, raw and alive like lightning desperate to escape. The air cracked and warped around her; a sharp, metallic tang filled her mouth.

The desk shuddered violently before being hurled backward. Books and parchment whipped into the air, spinning in the shockwave as chairs screeched across the floor. Ink pots burst like glass bulbs, splattering black stains against the walls.

Students screamed and ducked. The pressure in the room was suffocating, a crushing weight that vibrated in their bones.

Katie’s vision fractured into shards of light and shadow. The noise faded into a deep, resonant thrum, like the heartbeat of something far older than herself.

Her knees buckled. One last blinding flash—

And everything went black.

“...love and protect you always.”

The voice was of a young boy. Familiar. Distant. And it was gone before she could reach for it.

She woke to the scent of eucalyptus and polished wood. The infirmary.

White curtains swayed gently around her cot. Outside the nearby windows, enchanted leaves fluttered in slow, lazy circles. Katie blinked. Her limbs felt like lead.

Sean sat beside her, elbows on his knees, his jaw set in a way that made the muscles there twitch. One of his sleeves was torn at the wrist, faint scorch marks licking the fabric. His hair was a little mussed, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. He looked like he hadn’t moved since she collapsed, concern etched deep in the lines around his eyes.

“You’re awake,” he said softly.

Katie swallowed, her throat dry. “What happened?”

He hesitated. “You fainted. In class. After that…” His gaze shifted for the first time, away from her face, as if the memory of what happened was something he didn’t want to set loose in words.

Katie stared at the ceiling. “Was it that bad?”

Sean’s jaw worked once. “You sent half the classroom flying. People were… shocked. Professor Thimble cleared the room.”

“And you?” she asked, her voice small.

His eyes returned to hers. “I caught you,” he said simply.

A pause stretched between them. She noticed the way his fingers curled slightly on his knees, as if holding something back—words, or maybe a truth he couldn’t let slip.

Katie turned her head slowly to face him. “You know something I don't,” she said quietly. “You look at me like you do.”

Sean didn’t answer. His gaze held steady, but something flickered there—a shadow, brief and unreadable.

Katie’s jaw tensed. “Something’s clearly going on, and I think I deserve to know.”

He looked away, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t know what is happening.”

Katie narrowed her eyes. “Well, tell me what you do know. Maybe it will prevent me from leveling the school next.”

His silence this time was heavier. His shoulders sank the smallest fraction, but his mouth stayed closed.

Katie exhaled sharply and looked away. She hated the fragility in her voice. Hated feeling like a danger to everyone around her. But mostly, she hated that he knew something more about herself than she did.

“Just go,” she managed to keep her voice even as a tear dampened the pillow. She waited but didn’t hear any movement. “Please.”

Rather than relief, his footsteps fading and the clicks of the door offered emptiness instead. This new quiet only made the tears flow more.

Chapter Text

Katie had barely stepped into the corridor from the infirmary when Camden and Gabby turned the corner, nearly bumping into her.

“There you are!” Gabby exclaimed, rushing forward. “Are you okay? Camden told me what happened in class—are you hurt?”

Katie straightened and tried to smile. “I’m fine. Just... fainted, apparently.”

Gabby’s eyes were wide with concern. Camden stood a few steps back, arms crossed, his gaze scanning her like he was still checking for bruises.

“You fainted after blasting everything off the desks,” Camden added. “It was kind of impressive. Maybe a hint of terrifying.”

Katie smiled weakly, though her eyes flicked down the corridor—as if she might find Sean there, lingering in the shadows. “I don’t remember much.”

Gabby squeezed her shoulder. “You scared us, Katie.”

Katie forced another smile, but the tightness in her voice betrayed the irritation simmering beneath the surface. “Thanks for checking on me,” she said a little too stiffly.

The three of them walked to the common room in silence, their footsteps the only sound between the usual chatter and rush of other students.

That evening, Katie sat curled on one of the common room’s wide benches, a blanket draped around her shoulders. Gabby and Camden played a card game nearby, laughing under their breath, while Sean sat in the corner with a book. He wasn’t really reading—she could feel his eyes on her now and then, brief but too steady to be casual.

The echo of the surge still lingered inside her, like a stormfront pressing against her skin, raw and barely contained. It didn’t feel like the magic she’d been taught to control; it felt older, wilder.

She glanced at Sean, then stood before she could talk herself out of it.

Crossing the room, she stopped in front of him. “Can we talk?”

He nodded once and rose, closing the book without looking at the page.

“Keep it ‘PG,’ kids!” Camden called, loud enough for the whole table to hear.

Sean’s jaw flexed. He didn’t break his gaze from Katie as he followed her toward a quieter alcove near the bookshelves.

Katie didn’t waste time. “Something is happening, Sean. I need to know what it is.”

His face stayed composed, but she noticed his fingers curl slightly around the book in his hand. “It’s not that I want to hold you in the dark about anything.”

Katie’s frustration started to flare. “So you do know something.”

He hesitated, then gave a short nod. “Yes. It’s just…” His eyes darted toward the window for a second, like searching for the right words out there instead of in his head. “You need to remember the past on your own. I can’t give it to you like some history lesson.”

Her jaw tightened. “What does that even mean? You’ve been watching me since the sorting like you've known my deepest, darkest secret.”

“None of this was meant to harm you.” His voice was low, but his shoulders stiffened. “I never meant to hurt you, Katie.”

Her heart pounded. “Something inside of me is waking up—and I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”

She turned to walk away.

Sean’s hand closed gently around her wrist—not pulling, just holding, but with a weight that stopped her mid-step.

“I can’t tell you,” he said quietly. “But I can show you… something, at least.”

Katie turned back, narrowing her eyes. “Show me what?”

He hesitated, scanning the room once before glancing toward the far corridor. “Follow me.”

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing in the dim, narrow hallways that wound deeper into Ilvermorny than she had ever gone. The flicker of violet lanternlight caught on Sean’s profile—calm, but his jaw worked now and then, like he was chewing on something he couldn’t swallow. Katie noticed he didn’t look back to see if she was keeping up.

They passed closed wooden doors and dust-furred suits of armor. The air grew cooler, heavier. At last, Sean stopped before a tapestry and whispered a charm, parting it to reveal a narrow hidden door.

Inside was a dimly lit room lined with shelves—bottles, old books, cloudy orbs, mirrors that reflected more shadow than light. At the center, a stone pedestal cradled a shallow basin of silver liquid, swirling faintly.

“What’s this? And where are we?” Katie’s voice was hushed without her meaning it to be.

“It’s called a Pensieve.”

Sean drew his wand, pressed it to his temple, and pulled away shimmering threads of memory. They curled and writhed between his fingers before he guided them into the basin.

“You’ll understand it better if I show you,” he said, his voice almost reluctant.

Katie leaned forward beside him—and the world tipped.

A bright garden, sunlight pooling in the grass. A young auburn-haired girl running, laughing, chased by a platinum-haired boy. A woman’s voice calling from somewhere unseen. The boy caught the girl’s hand and tugged her toward a red-haired woman holding a tray.

Katie’s chest tightened. The air shimmered—and shifted.

A playground. The girl climbed the slide, giggling. The boy slipped—but a sudden burst of golden light from the girl’s hand made weeds and dandelions swell into a cushion beneath him. She laughed and ran.

Another flicker. A small altar in a ring of ancient stones. The small, auburn-haired girl and blonde young boy sat adjacent.

Katie’s breath caught as a golden flame began to encircle the children. Before it fully closed, Sean yanked her back into the dim room, both of them stumbling.

“Why did you stop it?” she gasped.

Sean’s face was pale. “That was private… it's not important.”

“That was me, wasn’t it?”

He looked away. “No. Her name was Lily.”

“Annie, Lily, some kid who had your hair and eyes,” Katie’s voice rose. “You expect me to believe what you say when everything I see—memories, visions or whatever—is always false or incorrect?” She pointed back to the pensieve, "that girl even had my hair color! What—do I have some twin sister I forgot about, too?”

Sean’s gaze stayed fixed on the basin. “It was just a magical reading our parents had us do every year… Lily and I, I mean.” He paused, voice low. “And I am sorry about Annie.”

“Annie.” Katie clenched her fists, heat rising behind her eyes. “That's the least—ugh!” She held her hand over her eyes and took a breath. “Fine. I’ll figure it out myself. I’ve been alone plenty enough.”

Sean met her gaze, regret flickering there. “I’m trying to protect you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

Her voice trembled. “Well, your ‘protection’ is painful enough.”

Sean’s composure wavered—the faintest crack. “I promised…I can't—”

His words landed like a jammed lock trying to turn.

“There’s no ‘twin sister.’”

He released another large breath, approaching Katie slowly as if she were an active explosive fit to burst at the faintest contact. She allowed him to rest his forehead against her own, but she couldn't close her eyes. Too many questions rattled through her mind.

A slow creak sounded from behind. She stepped back instinctively.

Professor Bellamy stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

Sean dropped her hand and turned toward him, his expression shuttered again.

“I assume you have a good reason for being in a restricted wing after school hours,” Bellamy said sharply.

Sean didn’t answer.

Bellamy’s gaze shifted to Katie. “We’ll discuss this later, Sean.”

Katie’s eyes widened at the name—and at the tone. It wasn’t the distant reprimand of a professor to a student. It was sharper.

Sean’s jaw flexed.

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose. “Define ‘confidential’ for me, Sean…”

Katie blinked. “‘Sean’?”

Sean gave her a sidelong glance. “Surprise.”

Chapter Text

Katie didn’t sleep much that night.

Her mind kept looping through the visions in the Pensieve, and the swirl of magic in her chest buzzed like a storm held at bay. There were too many questions, and not enough answers. Her past wasn’t lost—it had been buried.

And then there was the relationship of Sean and Professor Bellamy…

The next morning, the sun had barely lifted above the mountains when Katie slipped from her dormitory. She padded down the long stone corridors of Ilvermorny, the soles of her shoes nearly silent against the floor. The school was peaceful at this hour, save for the occasional soft hoot of an owl or the whisper of enchanted brooms sweeping dust from the corners.

She had only one destination in mind.

Horned Serpent’s legendary private library was built deep into the foundation of the house tower, a spiraling labyrinth of tomes and scrolls, candlelit shelves, and enchanted reading coves. It was said the Archive kept some books that whispered when you passed, others that hid their spines from unworthy eyes.

Katie passed the echoing bronze gates and made her way inside. The smell hit her first—dust, parchment, and something faintly floral, like crushed lavender and old ink.

She wandered until a flash of deep emerald on one of the higher shelves caught her eye. A thin book, bound in leather the color of moss and stamped with shimmering gold markings that resembled the Celtic knot on her necklace.

Katie reached for it instinctively. As soon as her fingers brushed the spine, it shimmered faintly and dropped gently into her hand.

She sat cross-legged beneath the arched window, opening the book to a title page that read:

‘Relics of Legacy: Magical Flora Born from Great Wands’

Her fingers trembled as she turned the page.

There it was—in delicate ink:

“...a rare tree, believed to have grown from the burial of Salazar Slytherin’s original wand. It is rumored the tree only reveals itself to those bound by blood or fate to its origin.”

Katie’s heart raced. The book trembled in her hands.

She flipped through a few more pages, absorbing every word. There were sketches of the tree’s twisted bark, serpentine leaves, and branches said to sing in storms. A note in the margins caught her eye:

“Only four wands have been known to share its wood, each combined with another wood to support the ‘serpent’.”

Katie touched her necklace again, breath catching.

“You’re up early.”

She looked up quickly to find Nicholas standing a few feet away, a book tucked under his arm and curiosity etched into his sharp features.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, approaching calmly. “I come here when I can’t sleep too.”

Katie nodded, closing the book partway but not hiding it. “I need answers.”

Nick gave her a somewhat thoughtful look, then his gaze drifted down to the title of her book. There was something unusually gentle about his tone today—not unkind, but cautious, like he was holding something back.

Katie looked down at the green book still resting on her lap. “Do you believe in fate?” she asked, interrupting his symphony of scribbles.

Nick paused, then flipped open his notebook. “I believe in choices. But some things... do feel like they’re meant to be.”

He glanced at the book again. “You’ve got the look of someone on the edge of something big. Snakewood, huh?”

Katie nodded slowly. “It’s the same wood used in my wand. At least part of it.”

Nick leaned back slightly, interest sparking in his eyes. “That’s rare. Snakewood and cherry? A wand made from two different woods is almost uncommon.”

Katie exhaled. “I think it has something to do with my family.”

Nicholas didn’t interrupt. He let the silence settle before he said, “If you’re searching for truth in the Atramentum, you’re already halfway to the answers.”

Katie gave a small laugh. “You sound like Gabby.”

Nick’s grin was subtle, but warm. “She’d be proud.”

They sat in a companionable quiet for a moment. Katie turned another page, this one containing a rough map. It showed a hidden glade deep in a forest, a mark over what looked like a twisting tree. Beneath the sketch were handwritten notes that read:

“Tree’s location unknown.”

Katie’s fingers grazed the page.

“I think I need to find it,” she murmured.

Nick looked at her solemnly. “Then I hope it finds you first.”

The knot on the cover wasn’t just familiar—it was identical. Her breath caught. The necklace she wore every day hummed faintly against her skin, like it, too, recognized the truth hiding in the ink.

Chapter Text

Katie’s steps were slower than usual as she left the Atramentum Archive, the green book clutched protectively to her chest. Nicholas had returned to his studies, offering her a respectful nod as she departed, but the weight of what she’d learned lingered with every stride. Snakewood. Soul-binding energy. A wand formed from wood and legend—woven together like the vines etched into its shaft.

Down in the winding halls of Ilvermorny, the quiet of early morning gave way to distant voices and footsteps as classes began to stir. Katie hadn’t realized how much time had passed until a few younger students hurried by, clutching scrolls and half-eaten toast.

“Morning, Miss Daley!” called a friendly voice.

Katie glanced up to see Professor Vale striding her way, a stack of enchanted parchment floating neatly beside her. Dressed sharply in her long emerald robes, her presence was as commanding as it was enigmatic. Her silver brooch glinted like a shard of starlight beneath her collar.

“Off to class or avoiding one?” Vale asked, arching a brow.

Katie quickly tucked the book under her arm. “Neither, just… doing some research.”

“Research is a wonderful thing. Just don’t let it become an obsession.” Vale gave her a knowing smile. “Curiosity can open doors—just be sure you’re ready for what’s behind them.”

Katie nodded awkwardly as the professor swept past, leaving behind only the faint scent of herbs and ozone.

She headed toward her next class: Magical Botany, held in the castle’s south greenhouses. The air outside was crisp, carrying with it the scent of moss and damp stone as Katie reached the ivy-covered glass structure. Inside, the heat and humidity wrapped around her like a living thing.

The room was already bustling. Gabby waved her over with a bright smile, her long black hair pulled into two low buns adorned with pearl clips.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” Gabby said. “Let me guess—dreams or drama?”

“Both,” Katie replied, forcing a tired smile.

Before Gabby could pry further, Professor Greer clapped her hands and called the class to order. Their project for the day involved nurturing Firepetal Blooms, a temperamental magical flower that responded to emotional energy. The red-orange blossoms pulsed faintly with inner heat, their petals curling and unfurling like flickering flames.

“Pair off,” the professor instructed, “and mind your mood. These flowers are particularly sensitive to tension.”

Gabby was already at Katie’s side, tugging her toward an empty table. “We’ve got this.”

Katie chuckled. “You always say that.”

Gabby pulled out a small satchel and from it, a deck of miniature tarot cards. “Don’t worry. I did a quick reading this morning. The Queen of Cups and the Two of Wands showed up. That means emotional clarity and choices.”

Katie blinked. “You brought tarot to Botany class?”

Gabby grinned. “It’s never let me down.”

As they began coaxing the Firepetal Blooms to open, Katie found herself oddly soothed by the quiet focus the plants demanded. Her thoughts drifted back to Nicholas, to the map in the book, to Sean—and that wordless moment of truth between them.

One of the flowers glowed a little brighter as her magic surged beneath the surface. Her connection to the plant deepened, and a single petal unfurled with a sound like a sigh.

Gabby leaned in, eyes wide. “Katie... I think it likes you.”

Katie smiled faintly, her hands still steady on the soil. “Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of something.”

Gabby nudged her with her elbow. “Or maybe you’re finally letting something in.”

Katie didn’t answer right away. The warmth of the flower seemed to reach her chest, quieting the storm that had brewed for days.

Class continued, and Professor Greer moved between tables, commenting on each pair’s progress. When she reached Katie and Gabby, she paused, eyes flicking to Katie’s bloom.

“Impressive,” she murmured, adjusting her spectacles. “Firepetals don’t usually bloom for beginners.”

Katie flushed, unsure what to say.

As class wrapped up, Gabby packed her things, still humming under her breath. Katie lingered by the Firepetal, the glow catching on her fingertips. She didn’t notice Sean until his reflection shifted in the glass beside her.

“Bellamy’s class moved,” he said, voice low. “He sent me to find you.”

Katie turned, pulse quickening. “Right. Thanks.”

He lingered, hands in his pockets, eyes searching her face for a beat too long. “You seem… different.”

She held his gaze. “That good or bad?”

Something unreadable passed through his expression—gone before she could place it. “Stronger,” he said at last.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she let her hand fall from the flower and stepped past him.

They walked in silence towards their next classes. The weight of Vale’s earlier warning pressed against her ribs, each step a reminder she still didn’t know what it meant.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Katie broke the silence.

“I charge by the galleon.”

Chapter Text

The Quidditch stands were already buzzing by the time Katie and Gabby climbed the last set of enchanted stairs to their seats. Bright house banners fluttered overhead, and magical amplifiers sent cheers echoing across the pitch. Horned Serpent blue and silver danced alongside Wampus gold and crimson, but it was clear most of the crowd had already chosen sides.

Katie tightened her cloak against the brisk wind and sat stiffly on the wooden bench. She crossed her arms—not because of the chill, but because Sean was still being infuriatingly cryptic and emotionally evasive.

“Okay,” Gabby said, plopping down beside her and adjusting the pearl barrette in her hair. “What’s the mood today? Silent brooding? Angry sighing? Or are we rotating into dramatic flouncing?”

Katie gave her a look. “Very funny.”

Gabby leaned in. “You’re mad at Sean, but still came to watch him fly?”

Katie didn’t answer.

“I mean, if Camden acted like that to me, I’d definitely be giving him a hex-induced rash, not showing up to cheer him on.”

Katie snorted despite herself. “I’m not here to cheer.”

Gabby hummed thoughtfully. “Sure you’re not.”

Down below, the players soared onto the pitch. Sean’s platinum hair gleamed under the late-autumn sun, and Camden looked like a warhorse in motion—bat slung over his shoulder, already grinning as if the game had started hours ago.

Katie found her eyes trailing Sean. “You should make the move since he hasn't. It's plainly obvious you like each other.”

Gabby smiled mischievously. “He's got to try for something besides the bludger.”

Horned Serpent and Wampus took formation. The whistle blew.

The game began.

It was fast—faster than Katie remembered. The air was razor-sharp with cold and tension. Wampus scored early, gaining a 40-point lead that only widened the cheers from their stands. Camden blocked two Bludgers in a row, sending one rocketing back toward a Wampus Chaser with brutal accuracy.

Katie gripped the rail in front of her, watching Sean circle high above. His movements were calculated, calm—but to Katie’s eyes, they still looked reckless. He was dipping too low, skimming too close to the edge of the goalpost. Her chest tightened every time he vanished into a dive.

“He’s pushing it,” she muttered.

Gabby side-eyed her. “You know what helps with irrational worry? Admitting you care.”

Katie gave her a glare, but said nothing. Her gaze was already skyward again.

The Snitch appeared.

A shimmer of gold darted across the field like a fleeting comet, and suddenly Sean and the Wampus Seeker were diving at once.

The crowd held its breath.

Sean ducked past a Bludger that spun straight toward the announcer’s booth, then twisted his broom so sharply that Katie nearly stood from her seat. Her hand shot out instinctively and grasped Gabby’s wrist.

“Ow—Katie, ow!”

Katie immediately loosened her grip, eyes wide as Sean leveled out just above the ground—his fingers closing around the Snitch a breath before he hit the pitch.

The stands erupted.

Horned Serpent students jumped to their feet, cheering and chanting Sean’s name. Camden whooped from midair, pumping his fist.

Katie just exhaled.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

Gabby turned to her, rubbing her wrist. “Sooo... still not cheering?”

Katie sat back down, heart pounding in her chest. “He could’ve hit the ground.”

“But he didn’t.”

“He could have.”

"But he didn't." Gabby gave her a sideways look, lips twitching. “For someone who's mad at him, you sure are emotionally invested.”

Katie didn’t answer. She was watching Sean as he rose slowly into the air again, Snitch glinting in his hand. He turned—just briefly—and his eyes found hers in the crowd.

For a single, silent heartbeat, their gazes held.

Then he flew off to rejoin his team.

Katie pulled her cloak tighter, but it wasn’t from the wind anymore.

Chapter Text

It was a Saturday morning like no other.

Katie stood bundled in her cloak just outside Ilvermorny’s gates, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird. The sky overhead was a soft tapestry of pastel blue and rose gold, the sun peeking over the edge of the mountains. Mist clung to the forest around them, curling around the cobbled path like gentle fingers urging them forward.

“We’re taking her to the village!” Gabby had announced cheerfully at breakfast. “Her first real trip outside the castle. I’m not letting her miss this.”

As Katie dressed in her red coat, she caught him in the corner of her vision. She shot Gabby a look.

Gabby whispered to her, “boyfriends are mandatory.”

Katie was flanked by Gabby and Camden, while Sean lingered a few paces behind, hands in his coat pockets. Nicholas and Lucien soon joined from the boys dormitories—Lucien chatting animatedly while Nick offered little more than a nod.

Katie’s eyes swept the scenery as they descended the winding hill that led to the wizarding village nestled in a hollow of the mountains. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

The village, known simply as 'Wendalin’s Hollow', was a collection of stone cottages, warmly lit storefronts, and magical lanterns that bobbed in the air like fireflies. The cobbled streets twisted with charm and enchantment—a bookshop with flying novels, a sweet shop with window displays of self-stirring fudge, enchanted musicians strumming violins outside a café.

“Wait until you try real butterbeer,” Camden grinned. “You’ll never drink anything else again.”

Katie blinked in awe at a shopfront where floating seeds burst into tiny fireworks of color. “This is incredible... I didn’t know anything like this existed.”

Gabby grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a narrow alley of street vendors. “Welcome to the world, Katie Daley.”

They wandered through stalls selling charmed jewelry, spell-enhancing ink, and baked goods that giggled if you poked them. Lucien made Nicholas laugh aloud with a joke about a dancing broomstick that wouldn’t stop following him around—a rare sound that caused Gabby to shoot a delighted look toward Katie.

Eventually, the group ducked into The Burrowing Badger, a cozy, dim-lit pub with glowing roots along the walls and an earthy warmth that soothed the soul. A round of butterbeers was ordered.

Katie took her first sip—and her eyes lit up.

“This tastes like...” She paused, searching. “Caramel, creme soda and... everything good?”

Camden gave a dramatic cheer. “Another convert! We’ll start the official butterbeer fan club after lunch.”

They all laughed.

As the group settled into their own conversations, Katie found herself sitting between Sean and Lucien. She was about to ask Sean about the enchanted ceiling when she noticed him silently place something small in front of her on the table.

A Snitch.

The very one from the most recent Quidditch match.

She blinked at it. “Is this...?”

“I figured you might like it,” Sean said quietly.

Katie picked it up gently. The wings fluttered beneath her fingers. “Thank you.”

Their eyes met for a moment too long. Katie’s cheeks flushed.

Gabby nudged Camden with a smile. “Hey, want to go check out the music shop before it gets crowded? And, Lucien, didn't you want to check out that new store with the gizmos?”

“Let's go Nick!” Lucien yanked him from his seat quicker than he could answer.

Camden raised an eyebrow, catching on instantly. “Only if you’ll try that magical piano again.”

She grabbed his sleeve, grinning. “Only if you sing this time.”

With a playful groan, he let her drag him toward the door, leaving Katie and Sean alone at the table. The pub had grown livelier, but the space around them felt quieter—comfortably so.

Katie ran her fingers along the rim of the Snitch. “You didn’t have to give me this, you know.”

“I wanted to,” Sean said, tone soft. “You were there when I caught it. Felt right.”

She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I thought Quidditch players were supposed to keep their Snitches as trophies or whatever.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I’ve been playing long enough to have a fair few. And if I had wanted anyone there... it was you.”

There was something in his voice—gentle, but weighty. Katie felt the moment thicken, a pull between them like quiet gravity. She turned the Snitch in her hand again, then tucked it carefully into her cloak pocket.

“Come on,” Sean said, rising from his seat and holding out a hand. “There’s something else I want to show you.”

Katie hesitated only a second before placing her hand in his. They exited the Burrowing Badger and walked slowly down a less-crowded street, the stone path winding past a magical florist where blossoms changed color when touched.

They wandered in silence, but it was easy. Natural.

Eventually, they came to a low stone bridge arching over a gentle brook that cut through the village. Enchanted fireflies bobbed above the water like stars caught in a dream.

Sean leaned on the railing, watching the flow. “I come here sometimes when I need to think... away from Camden's shenanigans.”

Katie joined him. “It’s peaceful.”

He looked at her sideways. “Kind of like you.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away when his fingers brushed hers.

They stood like that for a while—hands slowly intertwining, shoulders close—until the bells in the distance signaled it was time to head back to the castle.

On the path up toward the gates, Katie caught movement just off the trail. Between the trees, half in shadow, a cluster of dark, skeletal shapes crouched low to the ground. Their wings folded like black sails, ribs jutting against thin hides, they tore at something small in the grass.

Katie stopped short. “Sean… what are those?”

Sean followed her gaze, his expression shifting. “Thestrals,” he said quietly. “You can only see them if you’ve witnessed death.”

Katie’s stomach twisted as one of the creatures lifted its narrow head, muzzle glistening, before lowering again to pull apart what looked like a hare. Their movements were soundless but unsettling, each bite efficient, purposeful.

She swallowed hard. “Who did you see?”

Sean hesitated, eyes still on the creatures. “I don't really know. Maybe it's because I saw a crow, once. It fell right out of the sky in front of me. Maybe a frog—I'm not sure.” He frowned faintly, as though trying to piece something together. “But never a person. Not that I remember.”

Katie glanced at him, voice low. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t the death of an animal count?”

Sean shook his head, thinking. “It can. But… it’s not just about seeing something die. You have to understand what it means—what death really is.” He shrugged faintly as his voice dropped, steady but quiet. “Seeing death and understanding it are two different things. Thestrals only come when you’ve accepted it.”

He finally turned to her, his grey eyes steady. “What about you?”

Katie’s lips parted, but for a long moment no sound came. Her mind pulled her backward, past Ilvermorny, past the Daleys, to the first memory that had ever been truly hers.

“I was in the hospital,” she said at last, her voice thin. “After the accident. I don’t remember much about it—just the gown, the smell of antiseptic. But…” She exhaled slowly. “One night I heard the wheels of a stretcher rush by my room. A lot of voices, hurried, urgent. I was ten, and curious, I guess. I slipped out, went down the hall, and peeked into the room they pushed into.”

Sean stayed quiet, watching her.

“There were so many people crowded around the bed. I could see the heart monitor from the doorway—how it beeped unevenly, faster, slower…” Her hand curled unconsciously against her chest. “And then it just showed a flatline… with a long, sharp sound. Everything and everyone in that room seemed to slow down.”

Her throat tightened. “That’s the first full memory I have.”

The forest around them seemed to still. The Thestrals tugged quietly at their meal, bones snapping faintly in the silence.

Sean reached out, his fingers brushing hers again. His voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”

Katie shook her head faintly. “Don’t be. It’s… it's just what I remember.”

One of the Thestrals raised its head again, clouded eyes seeming to linger on her longer than on Sean. A chill ran down her spine, though not entirely unpleasant—almost like recognition.

Sean tugged her hand gently. “Come on. We shouldn't hang around them for too long.”

They turned away, leaving the creatures behind in silence, but the image of skeletal wings and the echo of that hospital monitor followed Katie all the way back up the path.

As they approached Wendalin’s Hollow, Katie noticed the shops closing one by one, enchanted lanterns dimming to a soft golden glow. The village quieted into an evening hush that made everything feel dreamlike.

Katie smiled. “This has been my favorite day yet.”

Sean nodded, voice low. “Mine too.”

At the top of the hill, Gabby and Camden were already waiting near the edge of the magical boundary. Gabby’s cheeks were flushed from laughter, and Camden held a charmed music scroll under his arm that hummed faint notes with every step.

“There you two are,” Gabby said, giving them a mischievous once-over. “Have a nice little walk?”

Katie flushed. “Peaceful. Educational. Maybe a little haunting.”

Sean turned his head, offering a soft smile in agreement.

Lucien and Nick appeared from around the corner of the last cottage.

“Mmhmm,” Camden said with a knowing grin. “Well, the school will seal the village gate soon. We should head back before they think we tried to escape.”

As they made their way up the winding path to Ilvermorny, the castle slowly came into view, lanterns glittering like starlight in its high windows. The group walked together again, six students in step, warmed by the day’s memories and laughter.

At the castle doors, Katie lingered with Sean as the others passed through first. She turned to him, heart full.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For the Snitch. And everything else today.”

Sean didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at her like he saw all of her—the nervousness, the curiosity, the storm waiting beneath her surface.

“You’re welcome,” he said simply.

And then, without warning, he reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear before gently turning to follow the others inside.

Katie stood still for a breath longer, her hand brushing the pocket where the Snitch rested. Above her, a faint gust stirred the air—the whisper of wings passing overhead, unseen but present.

Something had shifted between them. It pressed at her ribs like the pull of a tide, deep and inevitable. Almost as if they were caught in the Atlantic’s currents, where the choices are simple—sink or swim.

Chapter Text

The sun filtered through Ilvermorny’s high windows like golden silk, bathing the corridors and classrooms in soft warmth. It was the kind of day that whispered, "take your time."

Katie had barely slept the night before. Her mind kept replaying the bridge, the Snitch in her pocket, the way Sean had looked at her before they parted. She wasn’t sure what they were now—friends? Something more than friends? Something not quite defined? But for the first time, it didn’t scare her.

The smell of scrambled eggs and toasted bread filled the dining hall, mingling with the soft rustle of owl wings and the clinking of forks on plates. Katie sat between Gabby and Sean, her fingers wrapped around a warm mug of mocha.

Across the table, Nicholas snapped open the North American Wizarding Tribune, his brows lifting as he scanned the front page. “Huh,” he said, tone dry but intrigued. “Did you know there’s a wizard in Vermont claiming he’s bred a kneazle that can predict winning Gobstones moves?”

Camden blinked. “Isn’t that just called being lucky?”

“No, apparently he trained it using classical music and marshmallow rewards,” Nick replied, deadpan. “Claims it's ‘emotionally attuned’ to strategy.”

Gabby snorted into her tea. “That sounds like something my aunt would pay gold for.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “You mean the same aunt who once bought a weather-forecasting cactus?”

“She swears it worked. Until it got moldy,” Gabby replied with a grin.

Nick folded the paper with a soft snap and placed it on the table beside his plate. “In any case, probably a scam. But mildly entertaining.”

Camden reached across with syrup-sticky fingers, snatching the folded paper. “Let me see the important stuff.”

“Which would be...?” Katie asked, amused.

Camden flipped to the back page and pointed triumphantly. “The comic strip. Obviously.” A beat passed before he burst into a hearty laugh. “Oh man—look! The enchanted broom forgot which sport it was programmed for and tried to play baseball with a Bludger.”

Gabby leaned over to peer at the sketch. “Why does the batter have three eyes?”

“Artistic freedom,” Camden said wisely, shoving another bite of pancake into his mouth. “Also, I’m pretty sure this comic is written by someone who’s never seen sports. Or kneazles.”

Sean smirked. “We’ll get you your own kneazle comic one day. Camden’s Quidditch Misadventures.”

Katie grinned behind her mug. “Can we submit it to the paper?”

“Only if I get to write the captions,” Nick added, already pulling the paper back. “You guys would butcher the humor.”

After breakfast, the group found themselves sprawled beneath one of the sprawling maple trees near the courtyard. The leaves above were in full autumnal glory, glowing amber and scarlet, casting a dappled light over their circle.

Lucien was showing Gabby and Camden his new deck of enchanted playing cards that occasionally tried to cheat. Camden, delighted, kept catching them mid-swap. Gabby rolled her eyes every time the Queen of Hearts changed dresses mid-round.

Katie sat cross-legged, journal in her lap, scribbling idle thoughts more than anything academic. Sean lay nearby on the grass, one arm folded behind his head, gazing up at the sky. Every so often, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—not intense, not awkward, just... known.

"We should do this more often," Gabby said, stretching. "No lectures, no Bludgers, no surprise vanishing quizzes."

"Agreed," Camden added, grinning. "Though the Bludgers do keep things exciting."

Katie chuckled softly and closed her journal. "Do you guys always get this much free time?"

Gabby leaned against the tree trunk. "Weekends like this? Rare. Professor Bellamy's going to ream us this week."

"Speak for yourself," Nick said dryly, appearing with a book under one arm. "Some of us are actually prepared."

"Nerd," Camden coughed into his hand.

Katie smiled at the banter, letting the peace of the afternoon soak into her skin. It was strange how quickly she had become a part of them—this messy, magical, strangely perfect group of people.

Later that afternoon, Katie wandered with Sean through the third-floor corridor where the old tapestry of The Founding hung. They weren’t speaking much, just walking in a companionable quiet.

They paused outside the library.

"Want to go in?" Sean asked.

She nodded.

Inside, the library was cool and hushed. Floating globes of light illuminated long shelves of ancient texts. Katie wandered off toward the Magical History section while Sean lingered near the dueling scrolls.

Her breath caught. The knot wasn’t just similar—it was exact. Her fingers trembled before she touched it, the metal of her pendant suddenly cold against her chest.

The symbol on the cover was a circular knot twisted with a snake—almost identical to the necklace around her neck.

She reached for it, fingers brushing the spine.

'Wyrmwood and Whispered Legacies: Ancestral Magicks of the Forgotten'

She pulled it free and opened it to a random page. There, an illustration of a tree—twisted, dark, rooted in a grave—caught her eye. Underneath, a single line:

“Born from love, raised by loss, the snakewood remembers what the world chooses to forget.”

A chill crawled up her spine. The words stirred something too deep to name—like a dream she wasn’t supposed to remember.

Katie's fingers trembled slightly. She turned another page, but before she could read further, Sean’s voice called softly.

"You alright?"

She closed the book. "Yeah. Just found something... odd."

"That’s the best kind of book," he said with a soft smile.

She tucked the book under her arm.

They checked it out and left the library just as the sun began its descent beyond the mountain ridge.

That evening, Katie curled up in a window seat of the common room with the book unopened beside her and the journal in her lap. She stared at the horizon painted in streaks of fire and rose.

Everything felt... right.

She should be happy. She was happy.

She glanced at the unopened book.

"The snakewood remembers what the world chooses to forget.”

Katie swallowed.

She would open it soon. But not tonight. Some truths, she sensed, had their own timing—and some memories refused to stay buried.

Chapter Text

Charms class had never been so full of whispers.

“I heard she used to work with the Scamanders…”

“Legilimens, isn’t she?”

“She was at Ilvermorny—decades ago!”

Even the classroom’s enchanted ceiling—normally a swirl of soft candlelight—seemed to hold its breath. Wands were perfectly lined up. Books sat unopened, forgotten. Gabby had checked her reflection on the shiny side of her water goblet four times.

Katie leaned in. “You alright?”

Gabby clutched her arm. “I’m about to breathe the same air as Queenie Goldstein. I am not alright.”

Katie chuckled.

Just then, the door creaked open and in walked Professor Kettlemoss, practically glowing with excitement.

“Quills down, everyone,” she said, clasping her hands. “Today is an honor I’ve dreamed of for years.”

She took a breath, visibly emotional.

“When I was a student training with the Department of Magical Instruction, I was fortunate enough to be mentored by the woman you’re about to meet. She taught me not just spellwork, but how to listen to magic—how to feel it.”

Kettlemoss smiled warmly. “A proud Ilvermorny alumna, Pukwudgie house, and one of the most gifted Legilimens and emotional charmcasters of our time… please welcome Miss Queenie Goldstein.”

The room held its breath.

In stepped Queenie, her silver-blonde hair swept into a soft chignon, her robes deep violet with embroidery so fine it shimmered like starlight. Though her face bore the softness of age, her presence was as radiant and gentle as ever—like the hum of an old, familiar lullaby.

“Hello, sweethearts,” she said, her voice warm and soothing. “My goodness, it’s good to be back. You’ve all gotten taller, and I’ve gotten…” she tapped her temple with a wink, “a little shinier.”

The class giggled, enchanted already.

“I still remember my first year in this very school,” she said. “The Pukwudgie statue practically jumped when I stood before it. I was homesick and scared, but that sorting made me feel like I’d been chosen for something special. That’s what Ilvermorny does—it sees the soul, not just the spells.”

A brown-haired boy in the first row raised his hand, “what's a Legilimens?”

His neighbor answered before Queenie could respond, “it's telepathy.”

Queenie tapped the side of her head. “Not quite limited to reading thoughts, sugar. More like… listening to heartbeats.”

Gabby gave Katie a wide-eyed look that clearly translated to: She’s perfect.

Queenie continued, her tone softening. “Today I want to teach you one of my favorite charms—Lumos Sentire. It’s a light spell, yes, but it doesn’t just brighten rooms. It brightens souls.”

She lifted her wand and whispered the incantation. A warm, golden light bloomed from the tip, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.

“It responds to love,” she explained. “Real, true, deep love. A memory. A person. A feeling. If you fake it, the charm won’t shine.”

Excitement stirred among the students as they began to try.

Gabby’s wand lit like a sunrise. Sean's glowed faintly, steady and low. Katie’s flickered and dimmed again, as if caught in hesitation.

Katie’s wand flickered, then dimmed to darkness. A flush of heat touched her cheeks—not from shame, but from the ache of not knowing why her heart couldn’t anchor the light.

Queenie wandered the rows slowly, the hem of her robes whispering over the floorboards.

“Well now,” she said lightly, “a few years ago I passed through a café in Needham and saw a little boy staring out the window, thoughts completely absorbed in a book. Had the face of someone who’d grow up into trouble.”

Nick looked up, brow raised. “That… might’ve been me?”

“Oh, it was,” she said, chuckling. “And look at you now.” Her gaze softened.

She passed behind a fifth-year girl with a rose charm bracelet and a nervous look on her face. The girl gave a visible start when Queenie paused.

“You’ve got someone in your sights, hmm?” Queenie asked softly. “Dark hair, sharp wit, mind buried in books?”

The girl went beet red. Nick turned slightly in his seat catching her eyes.

Queenie gave the girl a gentle smile. “It’s sweet. But darling…” She looked back toward Nick, her voice light but certain. “He’s already in love.”

A silence fell. All eyes turned toward Nick, just as Queenie’s gaze slid with subtle purpose toward Lucien.

Lucien, who had been scribbling a note, fumbled his quill, dropping it with a quiet clack against the desk.

Nick was obviously fighting the flush that crept under his skin.

Katie blinked. Gabby whispered, “I knew it.”

Queenie only smiled faintly and moved on.

She approached Sean, who had his arms loosely crossed, but his jaw had tensed the moment Queenie walked in the classroom.

“And this one,” Queenie added, tilting her head at him, “pretends to be so guarded. But darling, your heart isn’t quiet at all.”

Sean’s lips parted slightly. He said nothing.

“You'd walk through fire for her,” Queenie said gently, her eyes flicking—just briefly—to Katie.

Katie’s breath caught, feeling a quiet pull in her chest. Sean didn’t say a word, but his eyes flicked in her direction before quickly dropping to the open book in front of him.

Queenie gave him a soft nod. “That devotion of yours—it’s quiet, but fierce.”

Then she stopped in front of Katie.

Katie straightened, unsure if she should brace herself or bolt.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Queenie said, her expression tender. “You love so much it aches, don’t you?”

Katie blinked fast.

“There’s a storm in you. Gentle on the surface, but ancient underneath. You love so deeply—your friends, your memories, even the ones you’ve lost. But you’re torn, hmm? You want to understand where you came from… yet part of you fear what it might mean.”

Katie’s wand dimmed completely in her hand. Her chest felt tight.

Queenie reached out and touched her wrist, warm and grounding.

“You don’t have to rush,” Queenie said. “The truth comes whether you chase it or not. But don’t be afraid of who you are, darling. You were made with love. And love… always leaves a trail.”

The words clung to her like the warmth from the spell, sinking into a place she didn’t know needed warming. A trail. She wasn’t sure where it led—but now she wondered if she’d recognize it when she found it.

Katie swallowed hard. For a brief second, she wondered if Queenie somehow knew.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Queenie winked. “You’ve got more courage than you think.”

Professor Kettlemoss dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve in the back of the room.

“Every one of you has a light,” Queenie said to the class. “But the brightest lights come from those who can share it through the darkness along the way.”

She raised her wand again. Its glow warmed the room like sunlight through stained glass.

Gabby dabbed her eyes with her sleeve and whispered, “She is a sugar prophecy.”

And for a long moment, no one said a word. Because they were all still feeling it.

The next day seemed dedicated to the recovery from the raw insights of Charms.

The air had turned crisp again, Ilvermorny wrapped in a gray morning mist that clung to the windows and curled beneath the doorframes. As Katie sat at her usual spot in the Hall of Seasons for breakfast, her waffle half-eaten, the thought of being merely halfway through the week was exhausting.

"Bellamy first thing in the morning," Gabby said dramatically, stirring her oatmeal like it had offended her. "The universe is cruel."

"You say that every Wednesday," Camden said through a yawn.

"Because it’s always true."

Katie glanced toward the staff table where Professor Bellamy sat, brooding as usual over his cup of steaming coffee, dark robes pressed sharp, eyes like needles. He hadn’t noticed her yet. Not that she wanted him to.

The Potions classroom was colder than usual that morning. Katie's breath came out in faint clouds as she walked to her seat. She was once again paired with Camden.

"You ready to not explode anything today?" he asked with a smirk.

Katie smirked back. "No promises."

Professor Bellamy stalked to the front of the room, robes billowing. "Amortentia," he said curtly. "Can anyone tell me what that is?"

Gabby raised her hand immediately. "It’s the most powerful love potion in existence. It smells different to everyone, based on what they’re attracted to."

Professor Bellamy gave her a slow nod. "Correct, Miss Huang. Today, you will brew it. Successfully, or suffer the consequences."

Katie swallowed.

They began. Camden measured the unicorn hair while Katie stirred clockwise with a steady rhythm. The potion shimmered slightly. Camden gave her an approving glance.

"Not bad, Daley," Camden said, leaning in to check their progress.

Katie leaned over the cauldron to check the consistency. The surface now shimmered gold—not pink or pearly like the others. A warmth spread from her fingertips to her core, like a slow vibration under her skin.

The potion hissed, and the scent that hit her made her dizzy: crisp pine, rain on stone, the faintest trace of smoke and something familiar she couldn’t quite name. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart gave a jolt as if responding to a call from deep within her.

Katie blinked, suddenly overwhelmed. A rush of heat spiraled from her chest outward, grounding her to the floor. That smell—pine, stone, smoke—it made her heart ache like something just out of reach. A memory she didn’t have. But somewhere beneath the rush of heat, she thought she’d felt it before—not in scent, but in the quiet pull she sometimes caught in Sean’s gaze, the one she never could name.

Camden sniffed. "Smells like... my grandma’s fireplace."

Katie took an unsteady step back, pinching the sleeve of his robe as a signal he should back away, too. She found herself clutching the edge of the counter they had backed into.

Professor Bellamy had turned from his own desk, his eyes fixed on their cauldron. His expression didn’t flicker—but he stared longer than was necessary. Not in anger, but with something else... recognition, perhaps. Curiosity. Concern.

Then, with an elegant flick of his wand, he waved the fumes away and turned his gaze to the next group. Not a word.

Katie let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

"What was that about?" Camden asked.

"I think I added too many unicorn hairs... sorry."

After class, Camden and Gabby rushed ahead to the dining hall. Katie lingered, repacking her things. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she heard voices echoing faintly from the corridor just outside.

"...can't ignore it much longer. That was the third surge in two months."

"It's not conclusive. Congress needs proof."

"And what if proof shows up under our roof? What then?"

Katie froze.

She crept closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. Her breath hitched as she leaned near the edge of the hallway.

Suddenly, someone bumped into her shoulder from behind.

She gasped, spinning around—and found Sean standing there.

"Sorry," he whispered quickly. His eyes flicked toward the corridor, then back to her. "What are you doing?"

Katie hesitated. "Listening. Did you hear them? They're talking about surges. About something showing up at Ilvermorny."

Sean’s expression shifted slightly, but he said nothing.

"Do you know what they're talking about?" she asked, her voice low.

He looked down the hall where the voices had vanished, then back at her. "Not here. Come on."

Katie followed reluctantly, glancing over her shoulder as he led her through winding corridors and seldom-used hallways, silent and tense.

Finally, they stopped near an arched window where the pale morning light filtered through the mist.

"You don’t have to worry about that," Sean said, keeping his voice soft.

Katie raised an eyebrow. "About what? Surges? Mysterious Congress conversations? Or the potion I accidentally turned gold today?"

He looked at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his grey eyes. "All of it. I mean it."

Sean opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. After a moment, he stepped closer.

"Something is happening," he said carefully. "I won't deny that. But not everything can be answered right now."

"Why not?"

"Because the truth has weight, Katie. And when you're ready, it will find you."

Katie looked away, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "What if they’re talking about me? What if I’m the thing that keeps causing these surges?"

Sean didn’t answer right away. His brow furrowed, eyes searching hers with a quiet intensity.

"We’ll figure it out," he said.

She blinked, surprised by the quiet certainty in his tone.

They stood in silence a few more seconds. Then Sean reached out, brushing his hand briefly across her arm before turning back toward the hallway.

"Come on. Let’s get to lunch. You’re going to need energy for Professor Ashworth’s class."

Katie followed him, her mind a swirl of thoughts and questions she didn’t yet have answers for. But something inside her stirred—deep and ancient, like a thread being pulled from the heart of the earth.

Even without nutrition, her thoughts were plentiful enough to keep her awake and aware to the monotone narration of past battles and doings... maybe.

Chapter Text

She sat in History of Magic, fourth row from the front, quill unmoving in her hand, its tip hovering just above the parchment. Professor Ashworth's voice washed over her like a breeze during exhaustion.

"While most magical children display signs before the age of eleven," he lectured, pacing slowly, "there are documented cases of delayed manifestation. Often these are tied to trauma or magical interference."

Katie stared blankly ahead. The word interference rattled around in her mind like a stone in a tin can.

Across the aisle, Sean sat as still as ever. His platinum blonde hair caught the filtered candlelight, and his pale skin appeared almost ethereal against the shadows. His grey eyes—always unreadable—remained fixed ahead, but Katie couldn’t help catching glimpses of him.

"Some historians even believe spontaneous surges of superior magic have occurred in isolated bloodlines," Ashworth continued. "Though this is largely considered a myth. However, the case of Tom Marvolo Riddle in Scotland less than a century ago is most controversial.”

Katie’s fingers tightened around her quill. The necklace at her throat felt suddenly heavier—a weight she hadn’t noticed all morning. Then, without warning, a subtle pulse shivered through her chest.

The room blurred.

She blinked.

Suddenly, she was no longer in the classroom.

Sunlight poured through a sky so blue it made her eyes sting. She stood on a hill carpeted with clover and wildflowers, the breeze tugging at her lighter auburn hair. Laughter rang out beside her.

Sean.

He was younger, his hair wind-tousled, face open and joyful. "Katie, come on!" he called, sprinting ahead of her with the carefree abandon of a child.

She chased him, her small legs barely keeping pace, her heart swelling with something pure and warm. Ahead of them, standing amidst the tall grass, was a woman—Katie’s mother.

Her arms were open, her long hair dancing in the wind, and her face radiated comfort and love.

"Mom!" the younger Katie cried, tears of happiness in her voice.

Katie’s chest ached with a longing so fierce it felt like it might tear her apart. The warmth of the memory wrapped around her like a cocoon, too vivid to be imagined.

Then the moment hit with the force of a wave.

Katie gasped and snapped back to reality—

—to the sound of shattering glass.

Every window in the classroom exploded outward in a sudden, deafening crash. High-pitched screams rose as glass shards flew through the air like silver rain. Students ducked under desks. Professor Ashworth threw up a shield charm just in time to stop a cascade of jagged fragments.

Katie sat frozen, breath shallow, her hands shaking.

The door burst open and Professor Bellamy swept in, his dark robes trailing like a storm cloud. His piercing eyes took in the scene in a single breath.

"Everyone out," he ordered sharply. "Now."

Students scrambled to obey. Gabby was the first at Katie’s side, grabbing her arm. "Are you okay? You didn’t get cut, did you?"

Katie shook her head slowly. Her voice had fled her.

Camden appeared behind them, gently ushering Gabby toward the door. Bellamy’s gaze landed briefly on Katie but gave nothing away.

"Out," he snapped again.

But Sean didn’t move with the others.

As the room cleared, he stepped closer to Katie and gently took her hand in his. His touch was grounding—warm, steady, real.

"I was little," she whispered, voice distant. "And you were there. We were running toward my mom. I remember her. Her face. It felt real."

Sean didn’t answer immediately. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around hers, his expression unreadable.

Bellamy turned back. "Sean. I said everyone out."

Sean’s jaw tightened. "I'm staying with her."

The professor scowled but didn’t protest further. But then his eyes narrowed—not at Sean, but at Katie.

Her face had gone pale. Her gaze was locked on the farthest corner of the room.

“Professor—what’s that?” she asked, her voice suddenly fragile.

Bellamy followed her line of sight, but there was nothing visible to him—only shadows.

But Katie saw it.

Something darker pulsed in the alcove like a hole torn in the air, dense and still and watching. Her chest tightened. The temperature around her dropped, her breath fogging faintly.

It didn’t move. It didn’t need to.

It saw her.

Sean followed her gaze, but there was nothing for him to see. Still, his grip on her hand didn’t waver.

“Sean,” Bellamy said again, this time more cautiously. “Please escort Miss Daley back to your common room. It's clear she needs to rest.”

Katie didn’t look away from the corner until Sean gently pulled her toward the door.

Only once they’d stepped into the corridor did she finally blink, as though returning from someplace far, far away.

And for a split second, a question echoed through her: Is this how it began for him? For Tom Riddle?

She didn’t know the answer.

But her fingers were still trembling around the strap of her bag, and the hallway suddenly felt narrower, the walls pressing just a little too close. She drew in a slow breath, but it caught halfway, leaving her chest tight and her steps quickening without her telling them to.

Chapter Text

The corridor outside History of Magic was quiet now, save for the occasional echo of voices carried down from the upper floors. Katie and Sean stood side by side, their joined hands the only constant in the shifting uncertainty that followed the surge.

Katie still felt the tremble in her limbs. Her eyes flicked to the shards of glass that littered the classroom floor just outside the door. Despite Bellamy’s orders, no one had returned to clean them up. It was like the world had paused around them.

Sean let out a breath. "You said you saw something."

“There was a shadow thing. It was looking at us.”

“All I saw was the alcove,” he said calmly. “But before that—you said you saw something else.”

Katie nodded slowly, then turned to face him more fully. "It wasn’t just a memory. It felt real. Like it was happening all over again. We were kids, and you were running with me through a field. My mom was there... smiling. Waiting for me."

Sean's expression softened, though something guarded remained in his eyes.

"Do you remember the garden?" he asked quietly.

Katie blinked. "There were flowers. And a swing set. I think... I think I’ve seen it before. In dreams—and your memory in the Pensieve."

Sean didn’t respond. The silence stretched.

"What was my mom like?" Katie asked softly, her voice cloaked with sadness.

Sean hesitated. Then, instead of answering, he released her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. "We should get out of the hall. People might still be around."

"You’re avoiding me again."

“I’m not avoiding you.” Tracing her hand with his finger before dropping his again.

Katie sniffed. “I’m not talking about physically.”

They walked together in silence, slipping down a side corridor toward a quieter wing of the school. Katie’s thoughts buzzed. Every memory, every feeling from the surge pulsed through her like a second heartbeat.

As they turned a corner, they nearly bumped into Professor Vale.

"Miss Daley," Vale said, eyes narrowing slightly. "And Mr. Carrow. I heard about the disruption in History of Magic. Are either of you hurt?"

"No," Katie said quickly. "Just shaken."

Sean gave a small nod.

Professor Vale studied them for a beat longer than necessary. Her eyes landed on Katie’s necklace, then flicked back to Sean. "Very well. The council will likely want a report. I suggest you both keep your stories simple. There’s no need to start rumors."

Katie tensed, her fingers brushing over the pendant. It felt warmer than usual, as if it remembered the dream too.

Vale walked past, her boots clicking sharply against the stone.

Once she was gone, Sean exhaled. "She always knows more than she says."

"She looked at my necklace," Katie murmured, touching it again.

Sean didn’t answer, but his silence confirmed her suspicion.

They reached the Horned Serpent common room. Students inside were still murmuring about the shattered windows, but the noise faded as Katie and Sean found a quiet corner by one of the glassless arches overlooking the woods.

Katie sat, hugging her knees. "What’s happening to me, Sean? That wasn’t normal magic. It wasn’t even wand magic."

Sean sat beside her. "Look how far you've come already."

Katie turned sharply. "That’s not an answer."

Sean’s jaw clenched. "I made a promise. One I can’t break."

Katie stared at him, eyes brimming. "To who? My Mother? Professor Bellamy? Or to yourself?"

He didn’t respond.

She turned away, arms wrapped tight around her knees. "I don’t know if I can trust you—not with all the excuses and deflection."

Sean leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, staring out into the mist-covered forest. "You’re not completely lost anymore, Katie. You’re so much further than you think."

Katie closed her eyes, letting the words settle. "I'm so tired," she whispered. The energy, the magic—it had drained her more than she wanted to admit.

She stood at the edge of a cliff beneath a thunderous sky. Below, the forest writhed as if alive—trees bending violently in a wind that had no sound. The air was thick with magic, a living, breathing thing inside her bones. Somewhere behind her, distant and lost, came the echo of screams—No-Maj voices, terrified and helpless.

Then came the creature.

It bled out of the woods like smoke given form—massive and wrong. Its shape shifted between serpent and bird, stag and wolf—never settling. Its body was shadows stitched together by hunger, and its eyes were pits of cold, ancient hate. The mere sight of it made Katie’s knees buckle, her breath catch.

The air smelled of ash and copper. Her skin prickled, and her limbs felt frozen from the inside out.

She tried to scream—but had no voice.

The creature turned toward the cliff. Toward her.

But she wasn’t alone.

A woman stepped forward from the trees, her green cloak whipping in the wind.

Isolt Sayre.

Her wand was drawn, long and blackthorn-dark, her expression carved in stone. Her hair streamed behind her like a banner, and the air around her shimmered as if defying the creature’s pull.

The shadow hissed—a sound like rending fabric and the howl of a grave wind. It surged upward.

Isolt didn’t flinch.

She whispered something first—soft and ancient, like the start of a sacred rite. Then, with a cry in words Katie could not understand, Isolt raised her wand. A brilliant surge of silver-blue magic exploded from its tip, not just light but force, radiant with protection and fury. It struck the beast mid-leap and sent it crashing back into the trees.

But it rose again, shrieking, coils of shadow slashing across the battlefield like whips.

Isolt moved like fire. With every step, the land responded. Vines rose from the soil, stones cracked open to emit glowing runes, wind circled her like a guardian. She cast again and again, spells ancient and unknown, her eyes alight with power and purpose.

Katie wanted to reach out, to help—to run to her.

But she couldn’t move. Roots had grown around her feet, holding her in place. A sudden cold weight pressed against her collarbone, and she glanced down—finding the serpent’s necklace glinting there, the emerald eyes in its silver coils faintly glowing. The metal was warm, almost alive, thrumming in rhythm with her heartbeat.

In the space between heartbeats, the battlefield seemed to blur—and there, lying on the ground between her and Isolt, was a clear crystal relic bound with a granite stone neck. Its surface shimmered with coiled serpentine shapes beneath the glass, shifting as though aware of her. For a moment, it pulled at her—not just her magic, but her very breath.

The creature lunged one final time, and Isolt raised her wand high above her head, shouting a word that burned in Katie’s mind even after it passed:

"Fiúntas!"

The storm broke.

Light split the sky.

The creature screamed as it was torn apart—its body unraveling like threads caught in flame, its howl echoing like the death cry of a forgotten god. The shadows evaporated into the wind.

Silence fell.

Isolt turned, a metallic glint from around her neck catching the faintest light. Her dark eyes met Katie’s from across the battlefield. Not cold. Not warm. Just… searching.

"You’ll face it again," she said softly. "But not alone."

Katie tried to speak, to reach out—

And then the world fell upward.

Katie gasped awake, drenched in sweat, her heartbeat pounding like war drums in her chest.

She couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t speak it.

But something in her veins remembered.

Her fingers found the serpent’s pendant at her collarbone. It was warm—too warm for the cool air of the common room—and for a breathless moment, she swore the emerald scales flowed on their own beneath her touch.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the air within the halls of Ilvermorny felt sharper, tinged with tension that lingered long after the windows had been repaired. Whispers followed Katie in the corridors, and though no one said it aloud, it was clear everyone suspected the surge of magic had come from her.

Gabby and Camden flanked her protectively on their way to breakfast. Camden cracked his knuckles absently. "People stare like they've never seen magic before."

"Because they haven’t seen that," Gabby said, her voice low. She glanced at Katie. "You okay?"

Katie forced a smile. "I’m fine. Just tired."

Sean hadn’t said much since walking her back to the common room the night before. He hadn’t even waited for her that morning. She wasn’t sure if he was giving her space—or pulling away.

She hadn’t told him about last night’s dream, either. About Isolt Sayre. About the shadow creature. About the way her blood had burned with power.

They entered the Hall of Seasons. As they took their seats, Headmistress Morrigan stood at the front, her cloak crisp, her face unreadable. She tapped the staff table for attention.

"Due to yesterday’s disruption, Congress has requested a review of Ancient Magical Theory. All fourth years and above are to report to a special lecture this evening in the east wing auditorium. Attendance is mandatory."

Katie exchanged glances with Gabby. "That’s not suspicious at all."

Gabby arched her brow. "You think they know something?"

Katie didn’t answer out loud.

‘Oh, they definitely know something.’

Later that day, in the quiet of the Horned Serpent common room, Katie tried to lose herself in study. The serpent carving above the fireplace slithered slightly in its arch, as if watching her.

Lucien plopped down beside her, grinning. "You’re famous now, you know."

Katie groaned. "Please don’t."

He held up a hand. "Alright, alright. Just thought you could use some cheering up. Want to hear about the time I accidentally turned my brother’s broom into a mop?"

Katie snorted despite herself. "Go on."

As Lucien launched into his story with wild hand gestures and exaggerated sound effects, Nicholas appeared nearby, arms crossed.

"That didn’t happen the way he tells it," Nick said dryly.

"Still funnier my way," Lucien shot back, flashing a grin.

Katie raised an eyebrow. "You two see each other outside of school, too?"

"We tolerate each other," Nicholas said.

Lucien dramatically gasped, feigning offense.

Nicholas scoffed, "You're lucky."

"Maybe a little more than 'tolerate'," Lucien added with a wink.

Katie smiled. The mood lightened. Even Nicholas seemed less stiff.

That evening, as the lecture began, Katie sat near the back with her friends. A tall, robed Congress representative stood on the stage, pale hair pulled back into a low knot, wand resting on the podium like a judge’s gavel.

"Ancient Magic," they began, "is the most potent and unpredictable force we’ve ever encountered. Long believed to be dormant, it has resurfaced only a handful of times in modern history."

Katie’s stomach twisted.

"Surges are often the result of this ancient force stirring in individuals with unique magical lineages—those who can channel it, even subconsciously. There are records, including one from Hogwarts in the late 1800s, where a student discovered ancient repositories buried beneath the school. That individual, too, saw visions, felt power awaken without a wand, and faced dangers others could not even perceive."

Katie’s breath caught. She became acutely aware of the serpent’s pendant at her collarbone, its silver coils warmer than the air around her. The warmth wasn’t constant—it pulsed faintly with the chill of a snake's scales, almost in time with the speaker’s words, as if it were truly listening itself.

‘Hogwarts... ancient repositories... visions...'

"The magic is world-altering," the speaker continued. "There are recorded instances of entire landscapes changed, great healing miracles... and destruction so absolute, nothing living remained. These surges are not to be taken lightly. They are echoes of a time before structured spells—raw, responsive, and deeply personal."

Katie glanced toward her lap, her fingers clenched tightly.

And then she felt it again—a flicker of memory, the scream of the shadow creature from her dream, the storm breaking as Isolt raised her wand. Her chest tightened. She resisted the urge to shift in her seat, but caught Sean’s eyes flicking briefly to her collarbone before he looked away.

Sean slid into the seat beside her, late and silent. He didn’t say anything.

But beneath the desk, his hand found hers. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and grounding.

Katie didn’t look at him at first, afraid her eyes might betray too much. But the warmth of his presence calmed the pressure rising in her chest. Eventually, she turned to glance at him and found him already watching her.

His gaze held no pressure, only quiet understanding.

And in the flicker of candlelight, she squeezed back.

She wanted to tell him about the dream. About Isolt, the creature, the word “Fiúntas” still burning in her veins.

But she stayed quiet.

Chapter Text

Katie woke to the muted glow of early morning, pale light spilling across the Horned Serpent dormitory ceiling. For a few precious moments, she lay still under the blankets, listening to the faint crackle of the common room fire below and the muffled rush of the river flowing down Mount Greylock. The school felt hushed, the usual feel of magic in the air softened as if the castle itself were holding its breath.

Her limbs felt heavy, but not from sleep. The events of the day before clung like mist—the sharp eyes of the Congress representative, the scream and shadow of a nightmare...or memory. She reached for the serpent’s pendant at her collarbone. Warmed by skin contact but cool on top, as always. But today that faint exchange between temperatures continued to pulse.

Gabby yawned and stood from her bed, hair twisted into a loose bun. “You’ve got that angry storm-cloud look again,” Gabby said.

Katie let out a long breath. “Just… thinking.”

In a flash, Gabby was already dressed in her robe and smiling. “Well, that’s your first mistake.”

Gabby held something out—a bar of soap wrapped in shimmering pink paper etched with tiny musical notes. “Come take a shower. This will help.”

Katie took it, turning it over in her hand. The wrapping smelled faintly of roses and sugar. She stood to collect her toiletries and clothes, hoping the steam might wash away the weight of yesterday, even if only for a little while. Katie followed Gabby down the dorm staircase and into the girl's shower room.

The showerhead water sparkled slightly, enhanced with a bit of magic to feel like a heated waterfall cascading over the skin. Katie had just finished rinsing her hair when Gabby sidled up beside her, the hint of mischief practically steaming from her pores.

"Try that soap I gave you," Gabby said sweetly, “It’s supposed to make your skin glow.”

Katie eyed it suspiciously, examining the package again. "Where did you say you got this?”

“The village bath shop! They sell only the most luxurious supplies!” Gabby grinned too widely.

Katie gave it another reluctant sniff. “Cool. Thanks, Gab.”

The moment she lathered it into her arms, the soap began to vibrate. A sudden musical chime echoed out, and then:

“Katie’s got a crush, Katie’s got a cruuush! On a dreamy boy with platinum hair, who’s over there!”

Katie froze. Her hands, mid-scrub, throwing the soap at the wall. “No. No. No-no-no-no—”

Gabby shrieked with laughter, clutching her sides and nearly slipping on the tile. “Oh my God—! I didn’t think it would actually sing that!”

Across the divider, the boys' side erupted.

Camden’s deep laugh boomed through the mist. “Sing it louder, soap! I don’t think Sean heard you!”

Sean, calmly rinsing shampoo from his hair, didn’t miss a beat. “I did.”

Katie let out a strangled sound while crouching to the wet floor, her cheeks now matching the pink soap.

“Oh my—turn it off!” she yelped, frantically trying to rinse the soap off. But the enchanted bar continued its role like a stage performer, belting the next line:

“She hides her blush, but it’s easy to see—she dreams of kisses and snuggles and—”

“Gabby!”

“Worth it!” Gabby howled, sliding down the tile wall in a heap of giggles. “I love you, but that was amazing!”

A nearby mirror clucked its tongue.

“Well, that was embarrassing,” it sniffed. “But at least she has some taste. That boy does have very nice cheekbones.”

Another mirror interjected in a breathy tone, “Though between us, Lucien is the standout. Très chic! Canadian flair, impeccable towel wrap, and those collarbones…”

Lucien smirked. “Merci beaucoup!”

“Charmed, dear. Absolutely charmed,” said the mirror closest to him.

“I’m going to die here today,” Katie muttered, burying her face in her hands as the soap finally fizzled into silence.

From the other side, Sean’s voice floated gently through the mist, faintly amused.

“…I like roses.”

Katie groaned.

Gabby was still laughing.

Camden was still egging it on.

And the mirrors were already composing a harmony.

The Hall of Seasons was buzzing with the usual morning clatter—clinking forks, enchanted pitchers pouring pumpkin juice on command, owls swooping overhead with letters and newspapers. Students chatted in their house clusters, still groggy-eyed or fully awake depending on their caffeine tolerance.

Katie sat at the Horned Serpent table, face half-buried in a slice of toast. Her hair, still slightly damp from the showers, frizzed around the edges like a halo of humiliation. Every now and then, her ears would twitch at the faintest whisper of someone humming a tune.

Across from her, Gabby was absolutely glowing with pride. She crunched into a piece of toast, trying not to giggle but failing miserably.

“I can’t believe it sang the ‘snuggles and kisses’ verse,” Gabby said for the fifth time, wiping tears from her eyes. “I almost slipped and died laughing.”

Katie shot her a flat look. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, come on. You have to admit it was legendary.”

“I’m going to hex that soap into another dimension.”

“Too late,” Camden said, flopping down beside Gabby with a heaping plate of eggs. “Already put it in the Hall of Fame.”

Gabby perked up. “Wait—there’s a Hall of Fame?”

“There is now,” Camden grinned, stuffing a forkful in his mouth. “Best magical prank of the semester. Might even etch the lyrics on the common room chalkboard.”

Katie dropped her forehead onto the table.

Sean approached a moment later, sliding into the seat beside her with an easy air. He wore his uniform shirt half-buttoned and his grey eyes sparkled with mischief that he didn’t even bother hiding.

“Morning,” he said, as if nothing had happened.

Katie groaned again.

“Toast?” he offered, nudging the tray toward her.

“I hate all of you,” she declared.

“No, you don’t,” Lucien said cheerfully, settling in next to Nick with a swirl of his scarf. “Besides, I think it was adorable. Even the mirrors thought so. One of them said your magical resonance practically braided together.”

Camden elbowed Sean. “If you’re smart, you’ll kiss her again before the soap does it for you next time.”

Katie sputtered into the wooden surface. Sean raised a brow, his smirk still in place.

“Noted,” he said calmly, reaching for a slice of marmalade toast.

Katie, finally lifting her head, was scarlet.

Gabby leaned across the table, fake-whispering, “Hey Katie… want to borrow some new soap? It’s peppermint this time.”

Katie, without breaking eye contact, slowly reached for her wand.

“Okay, okay!” Gabby laughed, holding up her hands. “Truce!”

A low crackle of static drifted in from the far side of the hall. The Roaming Cloud floated lazily above the Pukwudgie tables, trailing wisps of mist and making a muffled 'mmm-mm-mm' sound suspiciously close to the soap’s mortifying tune. Every few beats, it fired a precise bolt of lightning at the wall, blasting away what looked like an ancient smear of pudding that had fused to the stone.

Several first-years squeaked and ducked, but the Cloud carried on humming and zapping, entirely unconcerned.

Camden snorted into his juice. “Even the weather’s in on it.”

Katie groaned into the table as her friends bit back snickers—all except Nick, whose expression didn’t match the rest.

“I think the Council’s sniffing around to test us,” he stated, as if he'd been holding onto the thought all morning. “That lecture last night? They weren’t just being cautious.”

Katie lifted her head, frowning. “Test us… for what?”

Nick shook his head. “That’s what worries me. They wouldn't start interfering unless they already think something’s happening.”

Silence stretched for a few beats, heavy under the clink of cutlery from nearby tables. Katie’s eyes flicked to Sean. He wasn’t eating, just absently tearing his toast into smaller pieces, gaze fixed on the table as if weighing something he wasn’t ready to say.

Gabby swallowed the last bite of her toast. “Or someone.” Her gaze flicked toward Katie, quick but deliberate.

Katie looked down at her plate. Her appetite was gone.

Classes resumed as usual, though there was a buzz of tension beneath the routine. Professor Bellamy’s Potions class was strangely quiet that morning. Sean was already seated at the table when Katie arrived, and though he offered her a small smile, she took her seat without a word.

As Professor Bellamy swept into the room, his robes trailing behind him like spilled ink, he fixed his pale eyes on the class.

"Today, we’re working with Feverfew and Salamander blood. Potent, volatile, and not for the careless."

Katie gathered her ingredients slowly, feeling Sean’s eyes on her more than once.

As they began crushing the dried herbs, Katie finally broke the silence. "Are you going to ignore me all day, or did you forget that bubbly serenade this morning?"

Sean chuckled under his breath. "I didn’t want to overcrowd you.”

"I’m already overcrowded," she whispered. "By questions I can’t answer."

He glanced at her, more serious now. "You don’t have to carry them alone. Even if I can’t give you the answers."

Professor Bellamy passed behind them, pausing for a fraction too long. Katie noticed his gaze flicking between her cauldron and Sean.

When he moved on, she leaned in. "Does he know?"

Sean looked conflicted. "Not everything. But he suspects."

Katie stirred the potion counter-clockwise, watching the color shift from rust to violet.

"And Professor Vale?"

"More than she lets on. She’s watching you, too."

Katie’s entire body tightened. She didn’t want to be watched—she wanted to be helped. Possibly even understood.

As the class ended, Bellamy called Sean to his desk. Katie lingered near the door, pretending to check her notes.

"Be careful with her," Bellamy said in a low voice. "She’s not just a girl. Not anymore."

Bellamy’s expression wasn’t cruel—just… afraid.

Sean’s voice was steady. "She never was."

Katie slipped out before either of them saw the way her hands trembled. Her heart pounded in her chest as she broke into a run, not toward the common room, but straight for the forest beyond the castle grounds. She didn’t stop when the trees swallowed her; she kept running until the world felt quiet again.

The cold air stung her cheeks, and she finally collapsed against a moss-covered stone, struggling to catch her breath. Emotions surged—confusion, anger, sadness. The words 'She’s not just a girl. Not anymore.' echoed in her mind, twisting like a knife.

Footsteps crunched behind her. She didn’t turn around.

"Katie," Sean’s voice was low, breathless from chasing her. "You shouldn’t be out here."

"I heard him," she said, not looking at him. "Bellamy. He doesn’t see me as a person. Just a problem. A threat."

Sean moved closer but didn’t touch her. "That’s not what he meant."

She finally turned, her eyes glassy. "Then what DID he mean, Sean? Because I’m tired of being treated like a puzzle piece no one wants to explain."

He sat beside her on the stone, quiet for a moment. "He’s scared. So is Vale. So am I, sometimes. Not of you. Just…”

Katie hugged her knees. "I don’t want to be something dangerous."

"You’re not. You’re someone extraordinary. And I’ll always be here—weren’t you listening to Queenie Goldstein?"

Katie said nothing. But she didn’t move away, either. Instead came a soft smile.

Sean slowly knelt beside her, reaching up to gently brush a tear from her cheek.

“I still prefer roses,” he smiled.

Katie’s eyes met his, and before she could second-guess the moment, he leaned in and kissed her—tender and grounding, as if anchoring her to this reality.

Everything shifted.

The forest blurred around her, melting into sunlight and wildflowers. She saw herself, much younger, standing barefoot in a ring of stones with a boy whose pale hair glinted like silver. Sean. Hands joined. A glow surrounding them, ethereal and golden.

Words spoken in a forgotten tongue. Vows whispered by two children.

“And I promise to love and protect you always. My life is also yours.”

The memory sharpened.

She was about four years old, her small hand engulfed in the slightly larger one of a young Sean. They stood barefoot inside a stone circle carved with runes, beneath the canopy of twilight trees. Candles floated in midair, flickering with ancient magic. Surrounding them were hooded figures chanting softly in a language Katie didn’t understand but somehow felt rooted in her bones.

A woman stood nearby, auburn hair glowing in the candlelight, her eyes shimmering with tears. Katie’s mother. She stepped forward and placed a pendant in Katie’s small hand—the same pendant Katie wore to this day.

When their joined hands began to glow, golden threads of light wove around their wrists, binding them momentarily in a shimmering braid of magic. The warmth spread through Katie’s chest like sunlight. The chanting vibrated in her ribs, and the pendant pulsed once—like it remembered, too.

Two children, promised. Not in the way of arranged futures, but something more fundamental. A vow of protection. Connection. Soul-deep trust.

It vanished as suddenly as it had started, and Katie gasped, pulling away from the kiss. Her fingers trembled at her lips.

"Katie?" Sean asked, startled.

She stared at him, eyes wide. "I… I remembered."

His face paled, the calm mask faltering.

"The ceremony when we were little…"

Sean looked down, conflicted. "I wasn’t supposed to help you remember."

Katie's voice broke. "Why? Why hide that from me?"

He didn’t answer. But the answer was there, hanging in the silence between them.

“We are bound... by soul.”

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary morning in the Hall of Seasons—or as normal as it could be. Students chatted over eggs and toast, a few yawning between bites, while owls swooped in and out through the high enchanted windows, scattering feathers in their wake.

Katie sat quietly at the Horned Serpent table, absently pushing a piece of toast across her plate with her fork. Her mind was foggy from another night of strange dreams and, of course, Sean.

A flurry of wings stirred the air above her. A large barn owl glided down and landed right in front of her, hooting once with impressive dignity.

Katie blinked. The owl had a large package tied to its legs, neatly wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a crimson ribbon. A thick envelope with her name—Katie Daley—was tucked beneath the twine.

Gabby leaned in from across the table, eyebrows raised. “Owl mail? Who's it from?”

Katie swallowed and carefully untied the package. Her fingers trembled as she opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. “My family.”

My sweet girl,

Professor Vale reached out to me after every single one of our USPS letters came back undelivered. She explained that things are a bit... different where you are now and that I should try this “owl post” instead. It felt a little like sending mail to Narnia, but I’m just grateful it worked.

She sent us a printed report card (yes, on real paper!) showing how well you’re doing. Honors in nearly every subject? I cried, Katie. I’m crying again just writing this. We’re so proud of you.

She also let us know you might be needing a little cheer from home, so we all put together this package with things you’d recognize.

Ricky says to tell you he finally got a girlfriend. Her name’s Cassie, and they’re already that couple who share drinks and make everyone gag. (You’d love her.)

I tucked in that old blanket I quilted for you last winter. I know it’s a little too warm for it now, but I thought you might still want it. There’s also a fresh tail feather from Widget—he’s molting again—and I added some flower seeds for spring planting. (Lavender, of course. And zinnias.)

I hope you’re having a magical semester (literally). We can’t wait to have you home for the holidays.

I love you.

Mom

P.S. Your dad and brother insisted on writing something too:

—“Hang in there, kiddo. We miss your sass.” –Dad

—“Tell your magic friends I said hey, and yes, I’m still better at Mario Kart.” –Ricky

She hadn’t really said it since she arrived, but she missed home. Missed the way her mother always sang while folding laundry. The screech of Widget, their old cockatiel, throwing a tantrum when someone forgot his millet. Even Ricky and Dad bickering about who was going to take out the trash.

Katie laughed softly through the tears that had started to well. Her hands moved to unwrap the box. Inside, nestled among bits of newspaper and bubble wrap, was Mom’s quilted blanket, edges slightly frayed but soft as ever; a small clear tube holding a white-and-grey feather from Widget; a plastic bag nearly bursting with Halloween candy—even the good stuff: peanut butter cups, sour gummies, and a full-sized bag of M&Ms; a printed photo of Ricky with his arm around a girl with bubblegum-pink hair, both of them grinning like fools, the complete Star Wars DVD box set; three tiny seed packets of lavender, marigold, and forget-me-nots; two one-hundred dollar bills and a large bottle of coffee syrup which had been lovingly wrapped in socks to keep it from breaking.

A small gasp escaped Katie’s lips as she touched the quilt. “This is real,” she whispered. A tear finally escaped down her cheek as she looked up.

From the faculty table, Professor Vale didn’t look up from her tea. But she held the cup for a long moment, still and content, before quietly setting it down and returning to her reading.

Katie hugged the quilt to her chest, inhaling the faint smell of detergent and home. The more she clung to it, the more Ilvermorny felt like a dream—and home, the kind that made coffee milk and fought over remote controls, felt like something precious and far away.

For the first time in weeks, the ache in her chest eased.

She wasn’t forgotten.

She was loved.

“Okay, everyone needs to stop what they’re doing and prepare to have their lives changed.” Katie placed the bottle on the table.

“What’s up?” Gabby asked curiously, barely standing to see inside the box. “Snacks?”

“Not a snack. It's my favorite drink in the whole world!” Katie pulled the top off of a dark brown bottle with a yellow label: ‘Autocrat Coffee Syrup’.

“Some sort of potion?” Camden raised a brow.

“Nope. It’s coffee milk syrup. It’s like chocolate milk—but coffee-flavored.”

Lucien eyed it. “That sounds either delicious or like a dare.”

“You’re telling me people drink this?” Sean took the bottle, turning it to examine the labeling.

“Yes! In Rhode Island, it practically runs through our veins.”

“Is that even medically safe?” Nick said.

Katie summoned six cups of milk from the kitchens and squeezed a fair amount of syrup into each. “Here. Just trust me.”

“It looks... suspiciously good,” Gabby said, peering into her cup.

Lucien was the first to try it. “Oh my—okay, this is dessert in a glass.”

“It tastes like what I imagine a happy memory tastes like,” Camden said.

“It’s like someone took the bitterness out of coffee and replaced it with sugar and ambition,” Nick stated. “What a great invention.”

“I hate how much I like this,” Sean admitted with a small smirk.

“Told you.”

“I’m starting a Rhode Island appreciation club,” Katie said, holding her cup in the air.

“Only if Katie’s president,” Lucien smiled and raised his, also.

“Can we have this every week, lady ambassador?” Camden joked.

“You’re welcome, peasants. Your beverage game has been elevated.”

“Don’t let this power go to your head,” Sean smirked.

From the other end of the Hall, Professor Vale was watching with a quiet, unreadable expression. When no one noticed her, she allowed herself the faintest smile before returning to her conversation.

Katie sat alone that evening on the steps leading to the Astronomy Tower, her hands absently brushing her mother's blanket. Thoughts of her mother at home shifted to the thoughts of her other mother. Her real mother—and the memories the package had distracted her from.

The flicker of candlelight, her mother’s voice, and that strange glow that wrapped around her hand and Sean’s. Her soul trembled at the thought.

She was bound to someone. To him.

Footsteps approached. She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Sean sat beside her silently. The sky above them had turned indigo, stars beginning to emerge like scattered diamonds.

“That was nice of your family today.”

‘It was a nice distraction’, she thought.

Katie’s throat tightened. “Why did you lie about—”

“I didn’t lie,” he said gently. “I didn’t tell you. There’s a difference.”

She looked at him sharply. “Not to me.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his pale hair. “It wasn’t my decision. I knew who you were as soon as you walked into the Sorting Hall. I could never forget.”

Katie’s voice was a whisper. “You’ve known this whole time. That I wasn’t just some ‘late bloomer’?”

He hesitated. "I knew you weren’t ordinary.”

“That ceremony—”

Sean nodded slowly. “Our parents did it to protect you. The ceremony... it wasn’t just a ritual. It bound us. Magic-to-magic. Soul-to-soul. So if anything happened—if you were ever lost—I would find you.”

Katie looked away, her heart thudding. “Then why did I feel alone all these years?”

Sean’s voice cracked. “Because they sealed your magic. And when they did that, I think part of the bond went quiet. It didn’t break. But it... dimmed.”

The wind curled around them, carrying with it the scent of autumn leaves and woodsmoke. Katie’s fingers tingled faintly, as if her magic remembered more than her mind could.

“You should hate me,” he said finally.

Katie shook her head, though tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “You should hate me. You were forced—”

Sean reached over and gently took her hand. The warmth that bloomed there wasn’t from the autumn chill or his skin; it was the same quiet pulse she’d felt in the memory — golden, steady, familiar.

“I wasn’t forced to do anything,” he said.

Katie leaned against his shoulder, the echo of that ancient glow still humming in her fingers. “You were only a child. You didn’t understand what they—we—were doing.”

“I understood I’d do anything for you.”

For a while, they said nothing. Just two hearts trying to find rhythm again beneath the stars.

Katie sighed. “I’d hate to tell Ricky we don’t have DVD players here.”

“What’s a DVD player?”

Chapter Text

"You're being weird," she said over breakfast, narrowing her eyes as she stirred her tea.

"I'm always weird," Katie replied with a strained smile.

"Yeah, but this is like... withdrawn, mysterious, possibly-magical-weird."

Katie offered a shrug, but didn’t respond. Gabby frowned.

The tension followed them into Botany. Katie barely spoke, and though she tried to hide it, her mind kept drifting—to the ceremony, to the strange threads of memory beginning to unravel inside her.

After lunch, she slipped away to sit alongside the statue of Isolt.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” William’s voice came from behind her: low, with that dry, matter-of-fact tone that always made it sound like he was pointing out something obvious.

“Neither are you,” Katie replied softly.

He stepped forward, a paper sack in one hand, and began placing a small pile of walnuts at the statue’s base with deliberate precision. “She liked these,” he said, not looking at her. “Not that it matters now. Tradition’s tradition.”

Katie tilted her head. “Isolt?”

He shot her a sidelong glance. “No, the Queen of England. Who else?” Then he returned to his task. “I don’t go announcing what I remember. People get the wrong ideas. Start asking questions they’re not ready to hear the answers to.”

“But you did know her,” Katie said, almost whispering.

William gave a short huff — not quite a laugh. “Long enough to know when someone’s got her spark… and her stubborn streak.”

Katie’s breath caught. “Why me?”

He straightened, tucking the paper sack under his arm. “Because it was always meant to be you. That’s all you’re getting today.”

He started to walk away, boots crunching over the leaves. Just before the trees swallowed him, he paused and called back over his shoulder, “And don’t run from the parts of yourself that scare you. They’re usually the most important.”

The enchanted sunlight pouring through the tall windows of the Transfiguration classroom did little to warm the tension in the air. Every student’s gaze occasionally flicked toward the sleek, black serpent coiled in the glass terrarium at the front of the room.

Professor Vale stood beside it, hands clasped neatly before her. Her silver-blonde hair was pinned up in a single spiral, and her expression, as always, was unreadable.

“This is a Duskwind Adder,” she said. “Magical. Sensitive. Emotionally perceptive. And entirely unforgiving of foolish behavior.”

She let her gaze sweep across the room. “Today’s lesson involves transmutative empathy. You’ll attempt to transfigure a piece of cloth into a glove while the adder observes your magical output. If your intent is off, it will react. You are not to provoke it. Not even through the glass. Is that understood?”

A round of nods followed.

Katie sat beside Gabby, her wand laid across her palm. On her other side was Nicholas, quiet and watchful. But her focus wasn’t on either of them—it was on the adder. Its glittering eyes were fixed on her. Not on the class. Her.

Professor Vale began passing out the fabric swatches. “You may begin.”

Most students paired off and got to work—except Dorian Blackwell.

He had wandered to the front of the room under the pretense of observing the snake more closely.

“Mr. Blackwell,” Vale warned, voice firm. “Return to your seat. Now.”

“I’m not touching it,” he said innocently, tapping his wand lightly against the glass. “Just curious how jumpy it really is.”

Then—he tapped again.

There was a sickening CRACK.

The Duskwind Adder reared up and slammed its body into the glass with such force the terrarium shattered, Dorian stumbling backwards several feet.

Shards exploded outward. Students screamed and scattered from their desks. The black serpent landed heavily on the stone floor with a violent hiss, body coiling, tongue flashing. It lunged.

Straight at Dorian.

Gabby shouted, “Dorian, move!”

He stumbled backward and fell, raising his arms in panic.

Katie didn’t think. She didn’t breathe.

She stepped forward.

Her wand was still at her side.

But her voice—

“Stop. Don't hurt him.”

It came from deep inside her. Smooth. Commanding. Serpentine.

The adder froze mid-lunge.

It hovered, tongue flickering, then slowly, gracefully, lowered its head to the floor. Its coiled body relaxed.

But it didn’t retreat.

It turned.

And began slithering toward her.

Katie stood rooted to the spot. Fear coiled in her chest, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The adder’s black scales shimmered faintly as it crossed the floor—silent, fluid, purposeful.

Gabby gasped. “Katie—”

“Don’t move,” Nicholas murmured.

The adder reached her feet.

Katie held her breath as it curled around her legs once, twice, winding with surprising gentleness. Its scales were cool against her stockings. It didn’t strike. It didn’t hiss.

It simply... circled her. As if recognizing her.

Then it uncoiled, slithered toward Professor Vale, and paused just before her boots—its head lowering in a clear, reverent bow.

Only then did Vale raise her wand. With a murmured spell and a sharp motion, the adder lifted gently from the floor, suspended in a sphere of soft blue light. As she guided it back to its freshly repaired glass terrarium, the room began to breathe again.

The silence of the classroom was shattered a moment later.

“Well, that explains everything,” Dorian Blackwell muttered from where he stood pale and shaken. “Freak.”

Katie flinched.

“You didn’t calm it. You spoke to it. Like some dark little snake whisperer.” His voice rose, bitter and shaky. “What are you, Daley? Some kind of freak experiment gone wrong?”

“That’s enough,” Vale said coolly, then dismissed the students who hadn't fled already.

Gabby stood beside Katie now, her eyes blazing. “Say that again, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Dorian laughed nervously. “Don’t bother. She’s probably already cursed you.”

Nick spoke for the first time, his voice low and cold. “You nearly got bit because you’re too stupid to follow basic instructions. She saved you, moron.”

“Get out, Mr. Blackwell,” Vale said, not even looking at him. “You’ll be hearing from the Headmistress.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, but he was losing steam. He grabbed his bag and stalked to the door.

The door slammed behind him.

The containment field shimmered gently around the adder, now calm once more. Its eyes remained on Katie.

Professor Vale approached slowly, regarding her with a gaze both curious and calculating.

“You spoke Parseltongue,” she said.

Katie could barely breathe. “Parseltongue? What's—"

“It’s not a kind of magic one studies. It’s inherited. Bloodline magic. Very rare. Very old.”

Katie’s hands shook. Gabby gently took one of them.

“You okay?” she whispered.

Katie could only nod.

Nicholas, still tense, added quietly, “You didn’t just speak to it. You stopped it.”

Professor Vale watched the trio for a long moment. “Miss Daley. You’ll stay. Mr. Lyle, Miss Huang—you may go.”

Gabby hesitated. “But—”

“She’ll be fine,” Vale said, more gently now.

Gabby gave Katie’s hand one last squeeze. “You’re not a freak,” she said firmly. “You’re just a little too interesting for Dorian’s tiny brain.”

Then she and Nicholas left.

And Katie stood alone in the silence.

Behind her, the Duskwind Adder coiled once more in the magic field—calm, watching.

Recognizing her as one of its own.

The classroom door clicked shut behind Gabby and Nicholas, and the sudden quiet felt heavier than it should have.

Katie stood alone in the middle of the room, still not daring to look at the terrarium—still afraid the adder’s eyes might be on her.

Professor Vale waved her wand once. The shattered glass on the floor vanished, swept into nothingness. The curtains drew closed, dimming the bright daylight into a softer, more controlled shade. The protective containment shimmered around the repaired terrarium, but the snake made no move. It simply watched.

“Katie,” Vale said, her voice less icy now, but no less precise. “Sit, please.”

Katie sank into the nearest chair, her legs unsure beneath her. She wrung her fingers together in her lap.

Vale crossed the room, her heels quiet now, and perched on the edge of her desk—not behind it. Her pale eyes studied Katie like a riddle half-solved.

“You understand,” she began carefully, “what happened just now was not ordinary.”

Katie nodded once. “I wasn’t trying to cause a scene—”

“You didn’t cause the scene. Dorian Blackwell did,” Vale said crisply. “You contained it.”

Katie blinked. “But… I didn’t know what I was saying. I just… felt it. Like the words were already inside me.”

“That’s how Parseltongue works. It isn’t a spell. It’s a trait. A voice buried deep in the bloodline—dormant, until it’s not.”

Katie hesitated. “You said it’s inherited. What does that mean?”

Vale’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It means you descend from someone who once possessed it. A rare few still carry it in their veins—fewer still awaken it.”

She rose from the desk, walking toward the terrarium with folded arms.

“There have only ever been a handful of Parselmouths in known history. Salazar Slytherin, of course. Others—hidden, quiet, unrecorded. It was often seen as a mark of the Dark Arts. Feared. Misunderstood.”

Katie swallowed. “But I didn’t feel… dark. I just didn’t want it to hurt anyone.”

“I believe you,” Vale said, turning to face her. “And the snake did too. It listened. Obeyed you, even.”

Katie shifted in her seat, her voice barely audible. “Why me?”

“That,” Vale said slowly, “is the question I intend to answer.”

Katie looked up.

“I’ll need to do some research,” Vale continued. “Privately. Quietly. You’ll tell no one else about this, unless I say otherwise.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Katie whispered.

“No. But magic doesn’t care what we ask for,” the Professor said bluntly.

There was a long silence.

Then Vale added, “Have you discovered something from your family history yet? Your parents' identities?”

Katie froze. “No. Not really. And, from what I remember, my birth records are missing.”

Vale’s expression didn’t change, but something in her gaze sharpened.

Then—bam!

The classroom door burst open with such force that the snake inside the terrarium twitched.

Sean Carrow stood in the doorway, breath slightly ragged, platinum hair windswept, grey eyes wide with urgency. His school robes were half-unfastened, as if he’d barely taken the time to put himself together.

His eyes locked immediately on Katie.

“Katie,” he said, already crossing the room. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, startled. “Sean—how did you—?”

“Gabby found me,” he said, ignoring Professor Vale entirely. “She said… something happened with a snake. That it broke out. That you—” He stopped short, eyes scanning her. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’m fine. I— It didn’t hurt me.”

Sean let out a breath of relief, running a hand through his hair as he knelt slightly beside her chair. “You scared me.”

“I scared myself,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Professor Vale cleared her throat—not annoyed, but composed. “Mr. Carrow, while I appreciate your concern, this is still my classroom.”

Sean looked up at her, still holding Katie’s gaze. “Sorry, Professor. I just… I needed to see her.”

Vale studied him for a long moment, then gave a nod. “We were just finishing. Miss Daley is free to go.”

Katie rose slowly, still a little shaken, and Sean gently reached for her hand. She didn’t hesitate. Her fingers curled into his, grounding herself in the warmth of him, the steadiness.

Vale watched the exchange without comment.

Sean didn’t wait for permission—he guided Katie out the door like she was something precious he was afraid might vanish. As they stepped into the quiet corridor, the stone walls echoed softly behind them.

They walked in silence for a few steps. Then—

“You really okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

Katie nodded, her grip on his hand tightening.

“I have no idea what this means," she murmured quietly.

And with that, they walked toward the Hall of Seasons—toward dinner, questions, and a hundred whispers waiting just beyond the doors.

But for now, Sean never let go of her hand.

The comforting scent of roasted meats and pumpkin spice floated through the Hall of Seasons, but Katie barely registered it. She sat at the Horned Serpent table, shoulders tight, eyes unfocused, her plate full but untouched.

Sean sat close beside her, silent but unwavering. His presence was steady, anchoring. One hand remained on the table near hers, thumb occasionally brushing the back of her hand—just enough to remind her she wasn’t alone.

“You need to eat,” he said gently. “I know you don’t want to. Just try a little. Please.”

Katie nodded faintly but didn’t lift her fork.

Across from them, Camden dropped into his seat and leaned forward with a crooked grin. “Look, I’m just saying—if I found out I could speak snake, I’d be charging people to translate their pet hisses. Could’ve been a whole side hustle.”

Gabby, seated beside him, turned with a sharp glare. “Camden.”

“What?”

“Now is not the time.”

He frowned, his grin faltering. “Sorry.”

Nicholas sat a little ways down the table, quiet and watchful. As always, he said nothing—but he never stopped observing.

The moment was delicate.

And then Dorian Blackwell walked past their table. He slowed just enough to be deliberate.

“Well, look who decided to sit with the rest of us lowly humans,” he sneered. “Hope they cooked the rats extra rare for you, Daley.”

Katie went still.

Sean stood.

But not quickly—not impulsively. He rose slowly, every motion precise, controlled… and dangerous. The muscles in his shoulders were rigid beneath his robes. His posture changed—tall, sharp-edged, radiating silent fury. His face was calm, but the air around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

His wand was already in his hand.

And then—he raised it.

To Dorian’s temple.

The Hall of Seasons fell dead silent.

No one breathed. All heads turned toward him. Even the floating candles above flickered, casting long shadows down the center aisle.

Dorian took a step back, startled. “What are you—”

“Say it again,” Sean said coldly, his voice low and even. “I want you to.”

Camden was on his feet instantly. “Sean. Sean—don’t.”

His grey eyes burned, not wild, but focused. It wasn’t reckless rage. It was the quiet, exacting fury of someone who had been waiting for this moment.

Dorian smirked, though his eyes darted to Sean’s wand. “What, you going to hex me in front of everyone? Make it worth the spectacle, Carrow.”

The Hall grew smaller and smaller, as if the walls themselves were leaning in. Every table had gone still. Somewhere, a fork scraped against a plate and the sound seemed deafening.

Sean’s grip on his wand didn’t waver. His voice was low, controlled. “If I do, you’ll certainly be the first to know. Won't you?”

Katie could feel the tension in the air—thin, sharp, ready to snap.

Nick was beside him a heartbeat later. “Lower it. Now.”

Sean didn’t move.

“If you say one more thing to her,” he said, still staring at Dorian, “you’ll be lucky if detention is all you get.”

Dorian sneered—though the tremble in his stance betrayed him. “What, gonna brain-blast me into a coma if I insult your little girlfriend?”

Sean’s jaw twitched. His wrist flexed — just enough for Dorian to flinch — and that was all Camden needed.

Without warning, he stepped forward and punched Dorian square in the face.

There was a satisfying crack as Dorian reeled back with a yelp, clutching his nose.

Gasps echoed across the hall. The tension snapped.

And then—

“WHAT in Merlin’s name is going on here?!” Professor Bellamy’s voice cut through the Hall like a thunderclap. He swept down the center aisle in long, furious strides, his coat flaring behind him like a cape.

Sean lowered his wand completely.

Camden stepped back, cracking his knuckles.

Bellamy took in the blood on Dorian’s face, Sean’s raised wand hand, and the stunned silence of the hall.

“Mr. Carrow. Mr. Taylor. Detention. Tonight. No discussion.”

Sean opened his mouth, then closed it. Camden just folded his arms and gave a tight nod.

Bellamy turned to Dorian, voice flat. “And you. If I so much as hear another word out of you directed at Miss Daley, you’ll be lucky to finish the year with any privileges left.”

Dorian muttered something under his breath.

“Try me,” Bellamy added darkly.

Then he turned to Katie, his voice softening. “Are you alright?”

Katie gave a tiny nod. “Yes, sir.”

Bellamy studied her, then Sean. His expression softened—just slightly. “Good. Sit. Eat. And next time… don’t make me cross the room.”

With that, he turned and strode away.

As the murmur of the hall cautiously returned, Sean sank slowly back into his seat. He exhaled through his nose, hand still clenched.

Katie stared at him, wide-eyed. Her hand automatically covered his.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered.

“I did,” he said, without looking away. “And I’ll do worse if he ever says anything like that to you again.”

The words sank into her, steady and dangerous. But as she drew in a slow breath, she became aware of something else—something colder.

Against her skin, the silver serpent coiled in her pendant seemed… different. Not still, as it always was, but subtly shifting, its tiny head angling as if it, too, had been watching Sean. The delicate body of the Celtic knotwork gave the barest illusion of movement, like the suggestion of a slither caught just out of sight.

Katie’s pulse ticked faster. She forced her gaze away from it, but the phantom sensation of motion lingered, curling low in her chest like the memory of the Duskwind Adder’s coils.

That evening, after Sean and Camden returned from detention, Katie found herself sitting with him in one of the quieter towers overlooking the distant mountain peaks. She had told Gabby she needed space again and had received only a curt nod in return.

Sean sat beside her in silence, waiting.

Finally, Katie spoke. "I’m afraid, Sean. I don’t know what I’m becoming."

Sean looked down at his hands. "I’ve been afraid, too. That I’d lose you again. That maybe you’d come back... different. Or never remember anything. But even when you didn’t know me, you still felt like you."

She glanced at him. "Do you think this power is dangerous?"

He took her hand gently. "All power is. But you’re not. And I trust you… maybe even more than I trust myself."

She wanted to believe him. But as the quiet stretched between them, her free hand drifted toward her collar. Her fingers brushed the silver pendant that rested there—its delicate Celtic knot framing the coiled serpent. She hesitated, then lifted it into her palm.

It looked exactly the same as always. Still.

Perfectly still.

And yet she could swear she felt a residual warmth, like it had been alive in that moment when Sean had stood over Dorian. A faint, impossible memory of the serpent’s body shifting, its tiny emerald head turning—as if it had been watching too.

She closed her fingers around it, the cool metal pressing into her skin, and told herself it was nothing. Just her imagination.

She sighed and dropped her head back to the quiet of the tower.

But peace was always brief.

That night, as she passed one of the stairwell windows, Katie heard whispers echoing down the corridor. She paused, hidden in the shadows.

"...Manifesting so much more than other students. We need to act before MACUSA notices." It was Professor Vale's voice.

Katie’s blood turned cold. She backed away quietly, but a splitting headache now gripped her.

“I'm sorry… I really didn't mean to.”

She looked down at the dozen bodies that lay crumpled on the ground.

“They were going to hurt him.”

She looked at Sean.

A man's voice spoke, Professor Bellamy, “We need to leave before MACUSA gets here.”

“Katie– we need to hurry and get home.”

She looked at Sean as her Mother pulled her away.

The vision shattered, and Katie stumbled against the wall, breath ragged. An acrid smell of something smokey clung to her air, though the corridor was empty.

The past was waking and it wasn't the one she had dreamed of since waking up in a hospital gown years ago.

"When the serpents stir, follow the storm."

Chapter Text

Katie didn’t sleep again. Her body ached with fatigue, but her mind spun relentlessly. The vision—the dead bodies covering the ground around her—the sight was burned into memory. She lay still in bed, staring at the ceiling, one hand clutching the pendant at her throat. It burned faintly, as though remembering the memory too.

‘Freak!’

Morning sunlight did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest. The walls of Ilvermorny, usually warm and familiar, felt heavier today. Watching. Listening. Even the breeze rustling through the windows carried a strange energy—like the air itself was whispering.

'You love so much it hurts, don't you?'

Katie held her forehead in her palm, a headache definitely brewing.

Gabby met her at breakfast, but the air between them was stiff.

“Still not ready to talk?” Gabby asked, trying to sound casual, though the worry in her voice was obvious.

Katie shook her head, forcing an apologetic smile. “Soon. I promise.”

Camden gave her a side-hug in greeting, sensing her unease but choosing not to comment. He tossed a muffin onto her plate and gave her a wink. “Eat. Thinking burns calories.”

Katie smiled faintly. “Thanks, Dad.”

Sean wasn’t at the table.

Katie scanned the hall, stomach twisting. After everything, why was he absent now?

Classes dragged. Katie couldn’t focus, her quill hovering above parchment that remained blank. Professor Bellamy’s voice blurred into the background, a rhythm of words that didn’t sink in. The only moment of sharp clarity came when he glanced her way—just once. The look in his eyes wasn’t cruel like it had been in the past. It was calculating.

As she stepped out of the lecture hall, she felt it—a prickling sensation at the base of her neck.

Someone was watching her.

She turned sharply.

A figure in grey robes stood half-shrouded in the shadow of an alcove. The moment Katie spotted it, it turned and disappeared down the corridor.

Katie’s heart pounded. She broke into a sprint.

Down one hallway and around another, she ran, dodging startled students and knocking over a stack of books a first-year was carrying. The cloaked figure turned sharply into the east wing—the oldest, least used section of the school. The air grew colder, and the torches flickered despite the absence of wind.

But when Katie rounded the final corner, the corridor was empty. No door had opened. No footsteps echoed.

Only a faint shimmer hung in the air, like static before lightning.

Katie stepped forward, breath held. She reached toward the space the figure had vanished into. Her fingers brushed something cold—then passed through it. Like a magical veil of smoke.

Before she could go further, footsteps quickly approached from behind.

“Katie!”

She spun.

Sean's hair was windswept, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been looking for you. Where were you going?”

She glanced back. The shimmer was gone.

“Nowhere,” she said quietly.

Sean studied her face. “You saw something again, didn’t you?”

She didn’t answer.

That night in the common room, she finally opened up to Gabby and Camden. Sitting in a quiet corner near the enchanted fireplace, she told them everything–almost.

Gabby took her hand. "You should’ve told me. We’re supposed to be weird together, remember?"

Camden leaned forward. “We’re with you. Always.”

Katie hesitated. “You don’t think I’m dangerous?”

Gabby scoffed. “Only to anyone who breaks your heart.” She gave an approaching Sean a smirk.

Camden grinned. “Besides, I already told people I’d be your bodyguard if you turned out to be a secret chosen one. So I’m kinda locked in now.”

Gabby added, "It’s kinda like you’re the next ‘Harry Pepper’ or something."

Katie blinked. “Harry who?”

Camden snorted. “Harry Pepper! You know, that British wizard kid. The one who defeated the Snake King with his lightning stick and a flying motorcycle or something.”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Actually, I think it was ‘Potter’, not ‘Pepper’. And there was definitely no motorcycle.”

“Well,” Camden shrugged, “the story's old, alright? My uncle says he faced this evil guy named Moldywart or... Voldemorph? Anyway, boom! He explodes or something and Harry becomes the Chosen Hot Sauce.”

Katie laughed. “You’re making that up.”

Camden grinned. “I prefer my version. Way more flavor.”

Sean, who had just joined the group and settled beside Katie, raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me that’s not actually how the story’s remembered now.”

Camden shrugged. “Better than any history book I’ve read.”

Sean chuckled softly. “Remind me never to let Camden tell bedtime stories to children.”

Katie glanced at him, a flicker of warmth in her chest. He was here. Really here—with her, with them.

For the first time in days, Katie felt the fog begin to lift. She managed a real smile.

But outside the window, in the cover of moonlight, another figure watched from the tree line, obscured in smoke and shadow.

Waiting.

Watching.

Chapter Text

Within the first few minutes of Defense Against the Dark Arts, one word was all it took to reorganize Katie's thoughts.

“Watchers.”

With a flick of her wand, Professor Nox produced an illusion which looked similar to the cloaked being Katie had seen twice already.

“They were beings not unlike Dementors—cold, ancient, shrouded in black tendrils of shadow. But they did not feast on happiness nor perform the Kiss. Instead, they mainly observed. They lingered on the edges of great magic, drawn to surges and secrets as if magnetized to destiny itself. What they wanted, no one knew.”

She paced slowly, the phantom Watcher gliding in the air beside her. “For centuries, MACUSA has employed them as sentinels in certain high-security cases. Officially, they ‘assist’—patrolling restricted areas, shadowing dangerous individuals. But the truth is, no witch or wizard can truly command a Watcher. At best, they cooperate… until they choose not to.”

And Katie was now what they were watching.

“Although they are known to strictly observe, there have been a few reports stating acts of hostility.”

Professor Nox released the illusion and dismissed class soon after.

Over the next few days, Katie began to recognize when they were nearby. Not with her eyes, but with her instincts—moments when the temperature dropped for no reason, when shadows bent against their source of light, when the world felt just a beat out of sync.

They didn’t appear again the week following, not openly. But their presence pressed on her mind like storm clouds rolling in unseen.

Ilvermorny’s halls, for all their grandeur, could feel cold when the heart was troubled. The tapestry-lined corridors whispered with age, and every footstep echoed with memories not her own.

Katie sat with Sean under the tall windows of the astronomy tower, their legs just barely touching on the worn stone bench. It was midday, but the sky was grey—an overcast ceiling that dulled the distant mountains and cast the whole room in soft, silver light. The air smelled faintly of parchment and dust, mingled with the faintest hint of the last class’s burned star charts. She had barely said a word since their last encounter, and though Sean was patient, the silence between them felt like a taut thread.

He finally broke it. “I'm sorry.”

Katie didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared through the window, watching distant trees sway in the wind.

“I know,” she said eventually.

He reached out and grasped the Snitch she'd placed on the bench between them—the one he had given her weeks ago, now flying between them glistening in golden light. She had just rediscovered it in her pocket earlier that morning, nestled between a broken quill and a folded bit of parchment with notes she barely remembered writing. The Snitch had felt oddly warm when she touched it, as though waiting to be held again.

"It was always yours, you know," he said. Releasing it back into flight.

Katie caught it now, running her fingers along the golden surface. Its wings still twitched occasionally, almost like it remembered being caught– and given.

“What?”

Sean looked down, his voice lower now. “When I caught it... I looked into the crowd and saw you standing there. You weren’t cheering like the others. Just watching. And I wanted to see you smile, like we used to when we were kids.”

A silence followed. Katie closed her eyes. The pendant at her neck felt heavy, thrumming faintly.

“I think I’m starting to remember more,” she whispered. “The sound of wind chimes. My mother’s voice. Your hand in mine.”

Sean was about to say something when she interjected.

“Sean?” Her voice dropped to a whisper barely audible, “did I...kill people?”

Sean looked at her guiltily. A passerby would've thought he'd swallowed the Snitch instead.

It took a long moment for him to answer, trying to find the right words, “I'll be here when you remember everything… and every day after that.”

The Snitch fluttered again in her palm. Its wings caught a streak of sunlight.

'And I promise to love and protect you always. My life is also yours.'

Below them, laughter echoed faintly from the courtyard. The world moved on.

Katie glanced sideways at Sean. "Do you think it was always supposed to be this way? That we were meant to end up here together?"

Sean took a moment before replying. "I think the universe tried to separate us for a reason. And I think it’s trying to undo that now."

Katie looked down at the Snitch again. "Even when everything feels uncertain, you still seem so... calm."

He gave a soft laugh. "I’m not. Not when it comes to you."

A blush crept into her cheeks. She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear.

Sean leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "You once told me you liked the way the stars never judged anyone. That up there, everything just... is. Maybe that’s why you keep coming back to this tower."

Katie smiled faintly, remembering. "We used to lie in the grass and name constellations that didn’t exist."

Sean met her eyes. "I still do. I named one after you."

Katie blinked, caught off guard. "You did?"

He nodded, pointing. "It’s faint. But it’s there. Near Cassiopeia. I call it K’Daelora. It means ‘hidden flame.’"

Katie’s chest tightened, full of wonder and something too big for words.

Neither of them noticed the time slipping by. The stars they once named waited overhead, just beyond the veil of grey, holding onto memories not yet fully recovered.

Chapter Text

The morning after, Katie walked through the waking halls of Ilvermorny, the Snitch still clutched gently in her robe pocket. Her encounter with Sean had not soothed all the uncertainty—but it had ignited something deep and steady within her: a resonance.

A warmth lingered low in her chest, steady and magnetic—like her magic had begun tuning itself to something older.

Ancient magic. Something she had yet to fully understand, but a feeling that was now as familiar as breath.

Classes resumed with a subtle shift. In Magical History, Professor Ashworth’s voice carried more weight than usual, his tone weaving reverence into every word.

“Some awakenings,” he said, chalk scratching softly against the board, “do not follow the predictable patterns of learned spells or charms. They are older, rooted in the first language of the earth itself, manifesting in rare individuals as the power to call things back from the edge, to steal moments from the grasp of the sun, to summon the sky’s fury, to whisper growth into stone.”

Katie’s pulse quickened.

Ashworth continued, “Records speak of those who could hold a heartbeat between their hands, of those who could coax bloom from barren soil, of those whose voices could quiet even the chaos of a hurricane.”

Katie found herself leaning forward in her seat, the rest of the class blurring at the edges. She felt as though some part of her past had been etched between the lines of every passage, waiting for her to read it.

One description made her heart skip—an unnamed witch who silenced a wildfire with only her breath.

She sat with Gabby and Camden at lunch, surrounded by the usual plethora of house chatter. The enchanted ceiling overhead mimicked a blue sky streaked with the last gold threads of autumn. Gabby had braided her hair with tiny crystal charms that clinked gently whenever she turned her head.

“So what’s it like,” Gabby asked, resting her head in her palm, elbow planted on the table, “dating the most brooding Seeker in school?”

Katie blushed into her pumpkin juice. “He’s not that brooding.”

Camden barked a laugh. “Yes, he is. You know, he told me once that your laugh makes him forget the noise of the rest of the world.”

Katie’s chest fluttered. She hadn’t known Sean said that. Somehow, it felt more intimate than a kiss.

Gabby giggled. “He watches you like a hawk. It’s kind of romantic.”

Camden smirked. “Or obsessive.”

“Protective,” Gabby corrected with a wink.

Katie groaned and buried her face in her hands. “You two are the worst.”

“Yet here we are, making your love story better,” Camden teased.

Gabby leaned closer, lowering her voice dramatically. “Did he really call you ‘sunlight in human form’ last week? Because that’s what Camden told me.”

Katie’s ears went pink. “I’m going to curse you both...”

At that moment, Sean, Lucien, and Nicholas arrived and slid into the open seats at their table. Katie tried to act casual, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

Gabby grinned and leaned back in her seat. "I was wondering why you fellas were all the way over there."

Then she smirked directly at Katie before turning to Sean. "Camden and I were just wondering if you two had finalized the wedding date yet."

Katie choked on her pumpkin juice, her face turning beet red as she coughed and waved a hand in front of her face.

Sean raised an eyebrow but said nothing, the faintest curve of a smirk betraying his usual cool demeanor.

Later that evening, Katie found herself wandering alone into the corridor where the portraits of Ilvermorny’s founders hung. Isolt’s frame was larger than the others, her expression both serene and watchful. The flickering torchlight brought her green eyes to life.

“I wish I knew what you would do,” Katie murmured.

As if in response, a shiver passed through the corridor.

The flame nearest the statue of Isolt bent unnaturally to the side.

Katie turned.

One of the Watchers stood at the end of the hall.

It didn’t move.

Katie’s breath hitched. But this time, there was no panic. Only presence. Her magic responded with a vibration in her chest, rising and unfurling through her limbs like a protective wave.

She raised her hand, concentrating on the shadow and willing it gone. A golden light radiated from her palm. The light wasn’t blinding, but it shimmered like truth. It didn’t burn the Watcher—it unmade it.

The Watcher dissolved slowly into mist.

Behind her, Isolt’s portrait smiled.

Katie exhaled, and the hallway brightened.

'And don’t run from the parts of yourself that scare you. They’re usually the most important.'

She wasn’t just surviving the magic anymore. She was shaping it.

Chapter Text

The grounds of Ilvermorny shimmered with the final blush of autumn, teetering on the edge of winter. Excitement buzzed in the air—word had spread that the annual Winter Ball would return in honor of the approaching holidays. Gabby had immediately taken to planning, dragging Katie through hypothetical outfit combinations and discussing enchanted accessories at every meal.

“Enchanted snowflake earrings,” Gabby gushed. “They glow in rhythm with your heartbeat!”

Camden played along with mild exasperation, Lucien contributed ideas with flair, and even Nicholas gave thoughtful nods.

But Katie felt more distracted than festive. Her connection to this magic had become undeniable. Small surges of emotion triggered warmth in her hands, glows in her skin, or the sensation of magic stirring like a dormant force now restless.

A chilly Saturday morning brought the next Quidditch match: Horned Serpent versus Wampus. The stadium bustled with cheering students in scarves and their clothing representing which team they rooted for. Katie and Gabby watched from the stands, clapping when Camden deflected a particularly aggressive Bludger.

Sean soared high above the action, platinum blonde hair catching the light, focused and graceful on his broom. Katie tracked his every movement.

“He’s been flying like he has something to prove,” Gabby muttered, peering through her enchanted binoculars.

Katie nodded. “Something feels off.”

The match was tight. Both teams were fast, aggressive, hungry for the win. Katie tensed every time Sean dipped or veered too close to the goalposts.

Then it happened.

The opposing Seeker faked left—Sean dove hard to intercept. A gust of wind came from nowhere. His broom spun. He didn’t pull up in time.

The impact seemed to shake the stadium. Gasps echoed. Whistles blew. Sean’s body crumpled against the field’s edge.

Katie was running before she could think. Vaulting over the railing, ignoring Gabby’s shout, pushing through startled onlookers. The world narrowed to one thing: Sean.

She dropped to her knees beside him, heart pounding wildly. "Sean? Sean!"

His face was sweaty, eyes shut, barely breathing.

Katie seized his hand, tears spilling over. “No, no, stay with me.”

Something inside her cracked wide open.

Something ancient inside her uncoiled, rushing forward like water through a broken dam. Her grief wasn’t loud—it was focused, pure, and it answered the call of magic without hesitation.

Golden light shimmered around her fingertips, then spread—tender and strong. Her grief focused her magic, not into fury, but healing. The glow surrounded Sean’s chest and limbs, stitching invisible wounds and coaxing breath back into his lungs.

“Is she casting without a wand?” someone gasped.

“That’s not normal magic,” another muttered, half-afraid.

He inhaled sharply.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Katie?”

Relief hit her like a wave. A tearful laugh escaped her lips. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Professors and medics reached them, stunned by what they saw. One paused, whispering about ancient magic. Another murmured, “She didn’t even use a wand.”

Katie was only aware of Sean, his hand still in hers, color returning to his skin. Her heart slowed, breath beginning to steady. But as the magic faded and her mind cleared, the world around her came rushing back.

Whispers.

Dozens of them.

“She healed him—without a wand…”

“What kind of magic was that?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…”

Katie’s chest tightened—not from the magic this time, but from the sudden, crushing weight of every gaze in the stadium. Her pulse thudded in her ears, drowning out the noise, yet she could still make out the murmurs rippling through the crowd. Faces loomed at the edges of her vision—wide-eyed, lips moving in fragments she could barely catch.

The air seemed to shift, colder now, prickling against the back of her neck. Somewhere high above the stands, hidden in the shadowed rafters, something stirred. Invisible eyes, patient and calculating, fixed on her. The ancient magic had not just revealed itself—it had burned through the air like a beacon. Bright enough to rouse even those who preferred to remain unseen.

Sean’s hand closed around hers, firm and grounding. “Hey,” he said softly, forcing her to look at him.

The world narrowed to his face, his voice. It steadied her more than the solid earth beneath her knees. But even as she tried to hold onto that anchor, the edges of her vision swam. The adrenaline was bleeding away, leaving only the deep, bone-level fatigue of magic spent to its limit.

Her lips parted, her voice barely a breath. “Sean… I feel… tired.”

She swayed.

“Hey—Katie!” His voice sharpened with panic as he caught her, lowering her gently onto the cool grass. Her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay open.

A medic skidded to their side, wand already out. “She’s drained—too much magic, too fast,” they said, but Sean barely heard them.

The whispers were swelling again, a tide of speculation and fear. But Sean’s attention didn’t waver. He stayed by her side, his hand never leaving hers.

Far above, concealed by charm and shadow, the Watchers remained perfectly still. Their faceless forms leaned ever so slightly forward, as though the moment had drawn them closer.

And this time, they weren’t just observing the surge.

The day had been slipping toward evening, the sky washed in soft lavender and gold. The forest was quieter now, the hum of insects giving way to the stillness that comes before nightfall.

Sean spotted it first—a pale shape moving between the trunks ahead. “Katie—look.”

Through the thinning trees stood a Mooncalf—its enormous, liquid eyes catching the last threads of sunlight. Its pale, dappled hide shimmered faintly, almost silver in the gloom, and it moved with an unhurried grace, hooves barely marking the damp earth. Dust motes drifted in the air like faint stars as it passed between the shadows.

Katie held her breath, afraid that even the sound of it might scare the creature away.

The Mooncalf tilted its head toward them, sniffed the air, and then bounded off in a strangely floating gait—each leap silent, each landing impossibly soft.

Neither of them spoke. They just followed, hearts pounding, their shoes muffled in the pine needles. The air had that cool, damp weight of approaching night, smelling faintly of moss and woodsmoke drifting from somewhere beyond the trees.

The forest thinned, spilling them out onto the muddy edge of a no-maj village. Warm lamplight flickered in the windows, the glow softening the outlines of cottages and sheds. Voices drifted on the air—low, tired, end-of-day talk. A faint tang of chimney smoke curled in the wind.

Katie was about to suggest they turn back when she noticed it: a small green frog, lying on its back in a shallow puddle by an overturned bucket. Still. Its legs stiff, belly pale, eyes cloudy.

Something inside her pulled her forward. She knelt, the hem of her skirt soaking in the cold mud, and scooped it into her hands.

Warmth rose in her chest, steady and certain, pushing outward into her arms. The air between her palms shimmered faintly. The frog twitched.

Its eyes cleared. A startled croak escaped its throat. With a soft kick, it hopped from her hands and splashed back into the puddle.

Sean stared. “Katie… you—”

A sharp shout cut him off.

Two no-maj men stood across the lane, frozen in place. One pointed straight at her. “A witch!”

From behind them, a woman gasped, her face going pale. She crossed herself in quick, jerky motions. “The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” she whispered. Another woman clutched a child close, murmuring, “Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…” Her voice trembled, but her eyes never left Katie.

Doors opened. More villagers emerged, clutching rosaries, whispering prayers as if each word might bid them safety. A door banged against its frame; candle flames in the windows guttered.

Sean stepped in front of her. “Leave her alone!”

The taller man lunged, grabbing Sean’s arm. Sean shoved back, but another man caught him from behind, holding fast.

Katie’s heart thundered in her ears. The murmured prayers grew louder, a ragged chorus of fear. "...and deliver us from evil… deliver us from evil…"

Something deep inside her stirred.

The warmth she had felt moments ago changed—cooling, solidifying into something heavier, edged in shadow. Her breath slowed. The lamplight seemed to dim, though no one had touched the flames.

She raised her voice, low but steady. “Let him go.”

They didn’t.

The pulse inside her snapped taut. The prayers stuttered, then faltered entirely as the air seemed to press inward on the space between them. She could feel the fragile rhythm of the men’s hearts—too close, too vulnerable.

The golden shimmer that had saved the frog now darkened, laced with shadow.

A soundless wave rolled outward.

One by one, the men dropped—knees buckling, clutching their chests before falling still in the mud. Rosaries slipped from hands, beads scattering in the dirt. Gasps broke the silence. A woman screamed.

Sean staggered back toward her, free at last, eyes locked on hers—wide and unblinking.

Katie's sight caught the shimmer of a necklace: a crucifix half-covered in mud. She picked it up with shaking hands to examine it further. It was cold against her skin, the tiny figure of a man bent in eternal suffering. For a moment, she wondered if the woman who wore it had prayed for protection—from her.

"Sean! Katie!" Professor Bellamy's boots sounded quickly alongside the auburn-haired woman.

"Katie!" She pulled her into a tight embrace.

Katie’s voice trembled into her mother's shoulder. “I’m sorry… I really didn’t mean to.”

She looked at the dozen bodies strewn across the ground.

“They were going to hurt him.”

She looked at Sean.

Professor Bellamy stepped forward, face grim, eyes flicking to the nearest lamplight as if measuring how long they had before more villagers poured in. “We need to leave before MACUSA gets here,” he said, his tone too steady, too practiced.

Katie caught the faintest shift in his expression—something that wasn’t just urgency, but familiarity. This wasn’t the first time he’d stepped between someone and the people who might come hunting them.

“Katie—” her mother’s voice came from behind as she grabbed her wrist, urgent, pale. “We need to get home.”

Katie glanced at Sean one last time as her mother pulled her away. His face was caught between fear, shock, and something she couldn’t yet name.

Chapter Text

Katie woke to the soft clink of glass vials and the faint scent of eucalyptus in the infirmary air. A deep golden sunlight streamed through the frosted windows, casting leafy shadows across the white linens of the cot where she lay. Her limbs felt like stone, every breath heavier than it should’ve been, as if her very bones had been drained of magic.

She turned her head slowly. The sterile white of the room was softened by warm light, and every shelf and table seemed to hum with quiet order. Rows of softly bubbling potions glowed in glass, and enchanted quills took notes in midair from a healer's whispered dictation.

Beside her, there was little movement.

He was slumped in a chair far too small for his height, his knees awkwardly folded and one hand cradling his temple. Platinum hair spilled over his pale forehead like moonlight, and in the quiet, she noticed he was still holding her hand. His fingers were slightly curled around hers, as if he’d never let go.

Her heart skipped—and then began to race.

The Quidditch pitch.

The golden light.

The crowd.

And—

The muddy lane.

The crucifix in the dirt.

The way the prayers had turned to screams.

Everyone had seen her. Seen something she couldn’t even explain herself. Ancient magic—raw, surging through her without a wand, uncontrolled and intimate. The same force that had once mended life and then, in the next breath, snuffed it out.

She gasped and bolted upright.

Her palms burned faintly with golden warmth. The air around her shimmered, just for a second—like the world braced itself for what her fear might do.

Sean jerked awake. “Katie?” he rasped, disoriented. His grey eyes widened as he took her in.

“You’re okay,” he said with obvious relief.

But Katie barely heard him. “No... no, no, no...” she whispered, her voice trembling. She yanked her hand from his and looked around, her breath coming in sharp bursts. “Sean, they saw. Everyone—saw.”

He reached for her again. “Breathe, Katie—hey, look at me.”

“I healed you,” she said, voice rising. “With—with… I didn't even try, I just thought about it—it just happened, and—”

“You saved my life,” he interrupted gently, eyes locking with hers. “That’s what they’ll remember.”

Katie’s vision blurred with tears. “They’ll remember that I’m different! As if they were questioning it before! They were afraid.”

And under that fear, she heard another crowd in her mind—men shouting, women clutching rosaries, whispers of deliver us from evil as they backed away from her.

Sean cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “They don’t understand. But I do. I felt what you did. You didn’t just heal me—you called something, something beautiful. And you wielded it like it belonged to you.”

“Then why do I feel like I broke something?”

Before Sean could answer, the door creaked open and the healer swept in with a tray of glowing draughts. She eyed Sean with faint disapproval but didn’t send him away. Katie sat in tense silence while the woman checked her vitals and mumbled about “remarkable stamina” and “odd magical aftershocks.”

Before Sean could answer, the door creaked open and the healer swept in with a tray of glowing draughts. She eyed Sean with faint disapproval but didn’t send him away. Katie sat in tense silence while the woman checked her vitals and mumbled about “remarkable stamina” and “odd magical aftershocks.”

“There’s a different sort of magic in her system… that’s rare,” she muttered under her breath.

“Shouldn't he be looked at, too?” Katie quickly retorted. “He literally fell from the sky.”

“Mr. Carrow was assessed upon arrival, also,” she summoned her pen and paper, writing something. “Fit as a fiddle.”

When the healer finally left them alone, Katie took a deep breath and slid into a position to stand. When placing her foot on the floor, natural instinct pulled it back onto the mattress when touching something that was most definitely out of place.

Just beside the bed was a small wooden box. It looked hand-carved, dark oak with tiny inlaid vines and curling leaves. Sean leaned forward to get a look himself.

“Where did that come from?” he asked, circling the foot of the bed and leaning down to reach for it.

Sean’s hand hovered above the box, hesitant. Then he gently opened the lid. Inside was a single folded note sealed with dark green wax.

Breaking the seal as he looked at Katie, he unfolded the paper. The writing shimmered faintly, like moonlight on river water:

“Miss Daley,

The time is coming. I’ve waited longer than you can imagine.

Meet me in the East Grove at dusk. Bring no one but your questions.

– W”

Katie watched him as he read, “Sean…?”

He leaned over, tilting the paper so she could read. “W?”

Katie skimmed the letter quickly, lips parting slightly in disbelief.

“William,” she whispered.

She remembered him at Isolt’s statue.

“And don’t run from the parts of yourself that scare you. They’re usually the most important.”

The next morning, Katie picked at her toast while Camden loudly dropped his bag beside her. “Well, well, if it isn’t the reigning queen of dramatic entrances and the brooding prince himself,” he said, waggling his eyebrows between her and Sean. “Back from the dead?”

Gabby elbowed him. “Don’t joke about that. Katie literally saved Sean’s life.”

Camden’s grin softened. “Alright, alright. No jokes. Just admiration for our resident hero.”

Katie flushed, eyes dropping to her plate. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught two younger students whispering and looking her way before ducking their heads. The memory of the crowd at the match pressed against her thoughts. Not applause—murmurs.

“Didn’t you, though?” Nick murmured, not looking up from his newspaper. “Not many witches or wizards can heal alleged fractured bones and internal bleeding without a wand.”

Camden leaned in. “Truly. And speaking of wandless wonders—”

“Camden.” Sean’s tone cut sharp.

“What? I was just going to say maybe someone has a little surprise planned for our favorite serpent sorceress.”

Katie stiffened slightly as Sean slipped an arm around her. Camden smirked. “See? Blushing already. We could start a betting pool.”

Sean’s smirk deepened. “Maybe I should start betting too.”

Katie groaned, hiding her face in her hands.

Gabby flipped the newspaper open, only to freeze. “Okay—you’re not going to believe this.” She tapped a grainy moving photo of the match aftermath. Behind the mediwitches and players—

A hooded figure. Faceless. Still.

Sean leaned closer. “That’s—”

“A Watcher,” Nicholas finished grimly.

“They’re hardly ever seen,” Camden added.

Gabby frowned. “Why would one be at a school Quidditch match?” Her gaze flicked to Katie. “Never mind.”

Katie couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to. That pressure in the air was back, faint but unmistakable—as if the world itself was leaning closer.

Sean studied her. “Is that what you’ve been seeing?”

A small, almost reluctant nod.

As breakfast was ending, everyone began packing up to head to their next class, Katie caught a strange look exchanged between Camden and Sean. Camden gave Sean a subtle nod, and Sean responded with an almost imperceptible smirk.

Katie checked her bag to make sure it was closed. When she went to sling it over her shoulder, Sean grabbed it mid-sway. He gently took her hand. “Just trust me, okay?”

Suspicious, but intrigued, Katie followed his lead. They walked in the opposite direction of their classroom. “Sean… where are we going? Class is going to–”

“I'm sure we could both use a day,” he said as he pulled a silky blindfold from his pocket.

“Oh, no,” Katie said, backing away. “Absolutely not. What are you doing with that?”

Sean grinned. “It’s a surprise. You do trust me, right?”

Katie hesitated. She did. Sighing dramatically, she let him tie the blindfold over her eyes. “If I fall into a pit, I’m haunting you forever.”

“No pits,” Sean promised with a soft laugh.

They walked for several minutes, the sound of crunching grass and spring birds filling the silence. Katie gripped his arm tightly.

When Sean finally stopped, he gently removed the blindfold. Katie blinked against the sunlight and gasped.

They were on the Quidditch pitch.

“Nope,” she said instantly, crossing her arms. “No way. Did you lose your memory and forget what happened yesterday!?”

Sean held up a broomstick with a teasing grin. “Come on. Just a short lesson.”

“Absolutely not! I like the ground. It’s solid and predictable.”

But before she could argue further, Sean had already mounted the broom—and in one smooth motion, he grabbed her waist and pulled her up with him.

Katie screamed, clinging to him like her life depended on it.

“You are evil!” she shouted, eyes squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes,” Sean said calmly. “Just for a second.”

Against every better judgment, she peeked. The view was mystifying: the castle, the mountains, and a lake in the distance all stretching below them like a dream. Her heart pounded, but… it wasn’t as terrifying as she thought. At least not with him.

His body was as warm as the fireplace in the common room. She had barely moved since they had left the ground: the right side of her body molded into his front, hands gripping his robes so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “I still hate flying.”

“But slightly less than before?” he asked, whispering in her ear.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

They glided gently, the wind cool and refreshing. And for that moment, with Sean’s arms around her and the sky wide open, Katie allowed herself to rise.

Just a little.

Chapter Text

Katie caught Sean just outside the common room, her voice low. “He said to come alone."

“No,” Sean said flatly.

Katie blinked. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean you’re not going out there by yourself to meet with a possibly ancient, possibly half-senile Pukwudgie,” Sean snapped, running a hand through his hair. “Not after everything that’s been happening. NO.”

“He’s not dangerous,” she argued gently.

“He’s also cryptic and never gives a straight answer,” Sean said, stepping closer. “You’ve been attracting magical anomalies like lightning to a metal rod. If something’s waiting out there in the trees—”

“I can handle it,” Katie insisted, but even she heard the hesitation in her voice.

Sean’s gaze softened, but his jaw stayed firm. “Of course you can. But that doesn’t mean you should. Especially not alone.”

A long pause.

Finally, Katie sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Sean said, arms crossing. “So either I’m coming with you… or you’re not going.”

Katie stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I need to do this, Sean. He won’t say what he needs to unless I go alone. You know that.”

He met her eyes. Silence stretched between them like a taut string.

Then he exhaled, slow and tense. “You’re sure?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I feel like I have to.”

Sean looked like he hated every part of it—but he nodded, once. “If something feels off, you run. Don’t try to be brave. Just get out.”

Katie gave a small smile. “You’re so bossy when you’re worried.”

“I’m always worried where you’re concerned,” he muttered.

She stepped forward and touched his arm. “I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “I’ll wait at the treeline in the back of the greenhouses.”

Katie started to protest, but he raised a hand.

“You go alone. I'll be close enough to hear if something goes wrong. That’s the compromise.”

After a pause, she nodded.

Sean’s jaw clenched. “If he so much as startles you, I’m setting his beard on fire.”

Katie laughed softly despite herself. “You’re assuming he grew a beard?”

“Just covering all scenarios.”

Evening settled over Ilvermorny, draping the castle and grounds in a silver-blue twilight. They wordlessly held each other's hands as they strode across the grounds toward the greenhouses. Once they passed them, Sean stopped, forcing Katie to, also.

He pulled her closer. “I mean it. If you have the faintest feeling that something is wrong—”

“I know.”

He nodded, looked down at their joined hands. He kissed her forehead before she let go.

“I'll be right back.”

Sean's face said he was unconvinced.

Katie walked slowly through the quiet trees, her boots crunching over frost-covered leaves. The deeper she walked, the more the trees seemed to lean inward, as if listening. The air carried whispers too quiet to be wind.

The note from William still weighed heavily in the pocket of her robe, even though she’d read it a dozen times.

She paused beneath a crooked elm whose bare branches twisted like reaching fingers. East Grove was ancient, the silence only broken by the occasional rustle of animals preparing for winter.

“You came,” said a voice that made her spin.

William the Pukwudgie stood not far from her, his eyes bright and gleaming. He looked as he always had—small, prickly, and old as sin—but tonight there was something deeper in his gaze, as though he were seeing something long buried.

“You left me a small box,” Katie said. “And a letter.”

“Aye, and you took your sweet time about it,” he said with a snort. “Thought maybe you’d decided to ignore me. Would’ve been stupid of you, mind.”

Katie frowned slightly. “You asked me to come here.”

“I told you to,” William corrected, narrowing his eyes. “And there’s a reason. This place remembers your magic, child. It remembers.”

“Isolt,” Katie whispered.

William came closer, hands clasped behind his back. “When you healed that boy, the magic you used didn’t just heal. It called. Called to things ancient and hidden. You shined like a beacon, girl—like waving a flag in front of a thunderstorm.”

Katie swallowed. “So everyone who saw it… they know?”

He shook his head. “No. Most saw something bright and strange and forgot it before their dinner got cold. But some… they’re watching now. Especially the ones that can’t be seen.”

“The Watchers?”

William’s eyes darkened. “Aye. They’ve taken interest. They always do when powerful magic stirs. But you—” he jabbed a stubby finger toward her “—you’re different. The blood in your veins sings with the past. Isolt’s line… and Salazar Slytherin's, for better or worse.”

Katie lowered her gaze. “I don’t understand any of this.”

He gave a sharp huff. “Of course you don’t. You’re still green as spring grass.” He reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a small, silvery branch. It glimmered faintly in the moonlight, smooth and twisted.

“I’ve held onto it for a long time,” he said, almost grudgingly. “Waiting for the right fool to give it to.”

“Snakewood,” he said. “A branch from the tree that grew from Salazar’s wand.”

Katie remained quiet, examining the branch.

“It lives, hidden deep in the forest. Guarded. You found mention of it because the tree wants to be found.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Magic rarely does,” William said with a crooked, almost mocking smile. “You’re tied to it, Daley. Tied by soul and blood and something older than either. Whether you like it or not.”

He stepped closer and held out the branch.

“Your wand has Snakewood in it, doesn’t it? It accepted the blend because it recognized you. Don’t look so surprised—it’s not like you’re subtle.”

Katie hesitated, then slowly reached out to take it. Her fingers brushed the branch—and warmth surged through her like the echo of her healing energy with Sean. A low hum filled her ears, like a heartbeat echoing through time. Images flickered across her vision: a dark-haired woman placing a wand into the earth, a snake curling around her feet, an endless garden of dead greenery surrounding a single yellow flower, a whisper of syllables in a language Katie didn’t recognize.

She gasped.

William caught her wrist—firm, but not unkind. “There’ll be more. In time. But for now, you need to prepare. Something is stirring, girl. You won’t be alone in it—but you’d better learn quick who you trust, and who you don’t.”

Katie nodded, overwhelmed but grateful. “Why are you helping me?”

He stepped back into the mist that had begun to rise through the trees.

“Because I loved her,” he said roughly. “And I see her in you. Don’t make me regret it.”

Before she could speak again, he vanished into the shadows.

Back at the castle, they made their way into the warmth of the common room. Gabby and Camden were talking near the fire.

Sean sat in his usual spot. Katie approached after removing her scarf, moving to sit beside him—but before she could settle, Sean quickly gripped her forearm and tugged so she was seated securely within his embrace instead.

Katie flushed crimson, her body stiff with surprise.

“Relax,” Sean whispered with a low chuckle, his voice brushing the shell of her ear. “It’s just me.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, but slowly she allowed herself to lean into him, her head resting lightly against his collarbone. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his arms curled around her.

Gabby and Camden exchanged knowing glances from across the room.

Camden grinned and said just loud enough to carry, "Well, well, looks like someone upgraded from 'it's complicated' to 'lap privilege.' Should we give you two a minute?"

Gabby stifled a laugh behind her hand, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Katie's blush deepened, but Sean simply smirked, his arms tightening slightly around her.

The Snakewood branch pressed against her ribs like a second heartbeat. For now, she was warm. But the truth pulsed quietly, waiting.

Chapter Text

The snow in Wendalin's Hollow had grown thick overnight, painting the cobblestone streets and steep rooftops in a glistening white. Katie tugged her scarf tighter as she stepped off the carriage, her boots crunching through the soft layer beneath her. It was the last weekend before the winter ball, and anticipation hung in the air like frost.

Gabby was practically bouncing beside her. "Alright, boys, this is where we part ways. Katie and I have dress shopping to do."

Sean arched a brow. "Dress shopping? We could help—"

Gabby pushed him back by the chest. "Absolutely not. It's bad luck if you see the dress before the ball."

Katie laughed. "Isn't that for wedding dresses?"

"Close enough," Gabby replied with a wink. She looped her arm through Katie’s and pulled her toward a nearby boutique with glittering enchanted gowns in the display.

Lucien gave a half-bow. "We shall roam the taverns and suit shops. May the odds be ever in your favor."

Camden added, "Don’t pick something that makes us look too plain in comparison."

Gabby waved them off, and the girls slipped inside the store. The warmth of the enchanted shop greeted them like a summer breeze, and the scent of fresh lilac drifted from somewhere unseen. Dresses of every color shimmered on racks, some floating gently in midair. A mannequin twirled in a gown that shifted from silver to icy blue as it spun.

Katie’s eyes widened. "Wow..."

Gabby grinned. "We’re gonna look incredible."

When the group finally reunited outside The Burrowing Badger, the sun was already beginning to set. Katie carried a carefully wrapped dress box beneath her arm, and Gabby had two. Sean, Camden, Lucien, and Nicholas were leaning against the outer wall of the café, laughing about something Lucien had said.

Katie smiled when she saw Sean.

They all went inside for butterbeer, crowding into a corner booth that glowed with warm candlelight. The café’s walls were strung with enchanted snowflakes and sprigs of evergreen, and the air smelled of cinnamon and clove. Conversation flowed easily. They laughed, teased, and shared bites of spiced pastries.

Gabby leaned over to Katie and whispered, "Lucien said Camden tried on eight different dress robes before he settled on one. Eight. He’s worse than me."

Katie giggled. "He probably wanted to match your standards. Did you tell him to go with pink?"

"Obviously," Gabby replied with a dramatic eye roll.

Lucien tapped the table. "Okay, real question. If you could enchant your dress robes to do one ridiculous thing, what would it be?"

"Sparkle on command," Camden said immediately. "Like actual glitter explosions."

"A hidden pocket for snacks," Nicholas muttered. "Not even joking."

Sean glanced at Katie. "What about you?"

Katie smiled softly. "I think... something simple. Like, a soft glow when I’m calm. A pulse of light."

Sean’s gaze lingered on her a second longer than usual. "Fitting."

Gabby fanned herself. "Okay, can you two not flirt while the rest of us are drinking butterbeer?"

Katie turned beet red, and everyone laughed.

It was the kind of peaceful moment Katie had only ever dreamed of having—surrounded by people who felt like home.

The Snakewood branch warmed slightly in her coat. A warning. Or a promise.

But just as they stepped back outside, a chill swept through the square—not from the weather.

Everything fell silent.

The laughter. The wind. Even the usual bustle of the village.

A bird that had been chirping fell silent mid-note. Even the snowflakes seemed to stop falling.

Katie turned slowly. Down the main road, several cloaked figures stood motionless—hooded, faceless. There were no feet beneath the robes, only shadow and frost that wilted the snow beneath them.

"Watchers," Nicholas said under his breath.

"Those aren't normal Watchers... look," Gabby pointed.

Inspecting them further, their forms were somewhat warped like someone had taken semi-hardened clay figures and threw them at other hard objects. Within their usual darkened transparency were floating globs of solid black.

The group drew their wands instinctively.

"We have to hold them off until someone alerts the school," Sean said, eyes narrowing.

The first Watcher glided toward them.

Camden fired a jinx that knocked it back a foot—but it kept coming. Gabby’s hex bounced off its hood as if the creature absorbed it. Lucien and Nicholas joined in with barrage spells, but nothing stuck for long. The magic fizzled against their cloaks like sparks on stone.

Katie’s breath caught as one of the Watchers shifted in her direction. A wave of dread clawed up her spine.

They were surrounded.

Gabby stumbled back, nearly slipping on the ice. Sean caught her, but two more Watchers floated closer.

Something ancient stirred inside Katie.

Her pulse quickened.

Nothing would hurt her friends.

She stepped forward, wand forgotten in her grip. The pressure behind her ribs began to rise—hot, radiant. Her free hand clenched, and the Snakewood branch she now carried pulsed.

With a guttural cry, she lifted her arm and unleashed herself.

The world exploded into white.

Flames of ancient gold spiraled from her core and erupted outward like lightning and wind. The Watchers screeched—a sound that twisted the air itself—before being swallowed by the radiant storm.

It wasn’t just fire—it was memory and judgment, heat laced with age-old thunder.

Within seconds, they were gone.

Nothing remained.

Katie stood trembling, the snow swirling around her in reverent silence.

Her friends stared at her, stunned. Even Sean seemed at a loss for words.

Gabby was the first to move. She stepped forward and placed a hand on Katie’s shoulder. "That was... something else, Katie. You alright?"

Katie opened her mouth to answer, but her legs buckled slightly beneath her. She stumbled forward, weakened but still conscious. Sean caught her quickly, steadying her with both arms.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly.

Katie nodded. Her hand still glowed faintly with golden light.

This magic was hers.

Chapter Text

The carriage ride back to Ilvermorny was silent.

Snow pelted the windows in soft sheets, but inside, the six students sat close together, tense. Katie’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of the seat, still cold from the surge she’d unleashed. Her heartbeat thudded heavily in her ears, and though her friends sat on either side, she felt a strange distance growing between her and the rest of the world.

The snow blurred past like ash. No matter how close they sat, Katie had never felt so far away.

Sean sat beside her, his hand resting lightly over hers—a silent reminder she wasn’t alone. But even that warmth couldn’t completely erase the memory of what she’d done: the golden storm of magic that had erupted from her core, disintegrating the Watchers without a trace. Her fingers still tingled.

Upon arrival, they were escorted not to their common rooms, but to the Headmistress’s office.

The chamber was dimly lit, lined with towering bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. The fireplace burned low, casting long shadows across the room. Headmistress Morrigan regarded them from behind her carved mahogany desk, silver spectacles perched on the edge of her nose. A storm cloud—a signature quirk of Ilvermorny—floated lazily above, crackling with faint static as it gathered dust and cobwebs from the ceiling.

She folded her hands, steepling her fingers. "I’ve received a report. Watchers were seen—by civilians. You six were there."

Nobody spoke.

"Well?"

Sean cleared his throat. "We were attacked, ma’am. They surrounded us. We tried everything—dueling, defensive spells—but they were too strong."

"And yet," she said, voice even, "all six of you returned. Unharmed."

Camden nodded quickly. "That’s thanks to—Sean. He kept a clear head."

Gabby jumped in. "Lucien and Nick were quick with shielding spells too. We worked as a team."

Lucien gave a small smile. "We were lucky."

The Headmistress’s eyes narrowed. Her gaze swept over each of them before lingering on Katie. "And you, Miss Daley? Did you contribute to this miraculous trial of survival?"

Katie forced her expression to remain neutral. "I... did what I could."

A heavy silence followed.

After a long pause, the Headmistress sighed. "You must expect further questioning tomorrow. Understood?"

They all nodded.

As they turned to leave, Sean caught Katie’s wrist gently.

“You’re going to the infirmary.”

“I’m fine,” she protested quietly.

Sean gave her a pointed look. "You nearly collapsed, Katie. You’re going.”

Katie sat on the edge of a cot while the school’s elder mediwitch, a tall woman with streaks of silver hair and piercing eyes, examined her. Her nameplate read ‘Matron Ellesmere’.

“You’re not feverish," Ellesmere murmured, pressing a cool hand to Katie’s forehead. "No visible spell trauma... heart rate elevated. Magical readings are extremely high."

Katie squirmed slightly. “That’s normal, right?”

The mediwitch adjusted her glasses. Her wand hovered over Katie’s chest. The light fractured, pulsed, then dimmed.

"Not for a student. Not even close."

She looked at Katie carefully for a moment, then said, almost as if to herself, "Ancient magic always leaves its mark."

Katie stiffened. "What did you say?"

But Matron Ellesmere only smiled faintly and handed her a flask of a softly glowing, peach-colored potion. "Drink. It will help with the fatigue."

By breakfast the next morning, the whispers had begun.

“She wasn’t in the No-Maj registry, you know.”

“Not in the Magical Congress’ archives either.”

“I heard she made the Watchers disappear without even using her wand.”

“I heard she turned them into phoenixes.”

“Someone said her eyes glowed gold like a Seer’s.”

Katie kept her head low, poking at her scrambled eggs.

Gabby leaned across the table and whispered, “You’ve hit celebrity status. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Katie groaned and hid behind her toast.

“Still,” Camden said with a grin, “We’ve got your back. Whether you’re a magical mystery or just freakishly powerful.”

Lucien raised his mug of tea. "To the girl who exploded shadows and saved our butts."

Katie smiled faintly but couldn’t shake the unease building in her chest.

That evening, Katie made her way to the Horned Serpent common room. Most students had cleared out for dinner or study sessions. A few candles flickered along the carved stone walls, casting the dome-shaped ceiling in soft golden light. At the far end, near the crackling hearth, Sean waited.

He stood as she approached, setting aside a book he clearly wasn’t reading. Without a word, he opened his arms and pulled her into a quiet embrace. Katie closed her eyes and leaned into him, the tension in her shoulders slowly melting.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she whispered.

“I think you do,” Sean replied softly. “Deep down.”

Katie looked up at him. His platinum blonde hair glinted in the firelight, and his greyscale eyes studied her with a gentleness that made her throat tighten. There were so many things she wanted to ask him—about her past, about his memory in the Pensieve, about the ceremony—but she couldn’t form the words.

After a few deep breaths, she felt Sean shift to stand while offering her his hand. “Let's go to dinner.”

The soft murmur of clinking cutlery and student chatter filled the space as dinner began.

Katie sat between Sean and Gabby at the Horned Serpent table, half-listening to Camden trying to one-up himself with stories from that afternoon’s Arithmancy lesson. She stirred her soup absently, lost in thought.

Her fingers brushed the Snakewood branch beneath her robe. It was warm. A warning. Or a pulse of destiny.

Suddenly the light orbs above dimmed to a twilight hue. A hush rippled across the hall like a silent spell.

At the head of the room, Headmistress Morrigan rose from her seat at the staff table, her robes a sleek obsidian trimmed in deep plum. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a weight to her presence that made even the rowdiest Wampus students go quiet.

“Students,” Morrigan said, voice firm but measured, “this evening we are joined by visitors from the Magical Congress of the United States of America.”

Katie straightened in her seat, a ripple of unease passing through the room. Sean subtly shifted beside her.

Morrigan gestured toward a cluster of figures who had emerged near the grand double doors, their silhouettes outlined by the flickering torches. The first two wore formal MACUSA investigator robes—deep navy with the silver seal of the Magical Congress gleaming at their shoulders. One was a tall, narrow-faced woman with calculating eyes. The other, a serious-looking man with neatly parted hair and a briefcase clasped in gloved hands.

“They are here to evaluate recent magical anomalies in the region,” Morrigan continued, “and will be staying on the grounds for a short period. You may see them in the corridors or at select lessons. I expect you all to show them the courtesy due to official guests.”

Morrigan’s voice was even, but the tension behind it shimmered like a blade.

Katie’s throat tightened. Her hand, resting beneath the table, instinctively curled into a fist. She felt Sean’s fingers slide over hers, steadying her, then interlacing. When she glanced at him, he didn’t look back—but his grip was firm, protective.

Behind the two Congress agents, two more cloaked figures emerged, positioned slightly apart from the rest. They were quieter, more watchful. Their cloaks were unmarked, tailored but unassuming—yet there was something oddly out of sync about them. Like shadows that didn’t belong to this hour of day.

Lucien, farther down the table, noticed it first. His gaze narrowed as he studied them. Both wore understated silver chains around their necks, partially hidden beneath their collars. And hanging at each center was a small charm—an hourglass no larger than a marble, its center glowing faintly with a shifting light. The sand inside didn’t fall but hovered, suspended.

He nudged Nicholas beside him. “Those two at the end,” he whispered. “They’re not just MACUSA. Look at their necklaces.”

Nick followed his gaze and stiffened, but said nothing.

Katie barely noticed. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor until Sean’s voice reached her in a quiet murmur:

“MACUSA poking around is never good.”

She looked up. Sean was still facing forward, his jaw tense.

Katie’s lips parted, but she said nothing.

The silver-haired woman among the shadowed pair swept her eyes across the room. Her gaze skimmed the students with detached precision, pausing here and there—but never lingering. When she passed over Katie and Sean, there was no sign of recognition.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know she had been at the center of every pulse, every surge of extraordinary magic that had set the wards humming and startled the enchanted storm cloud into spitting light.

The visitors gave polite nods as Professor Morrigan concluded. Then, just as quietly as they had arrived, they turned and exited through a side archway, their footsteps echoing in measured unison.

The lights in the hall brightened once more. The noise resumed—tentative at first, then gradually returning to normal.

But Katie didn’t pick up her spoon again.

At the staff table, Professor Vale leaned slightly to murmur something to Professor Bellamy. The Potions Master gave no reply, but his grey eyes flicked toward the Horned Serpent table with eerie precision.

And lingered on Katie—not with suspicion, but something colder. Calculating. Knowing.

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the winter ball passed in a blur. It should have been an exciting week—filled with anticipation, whispered plans, and magical embellishments—but for Katie, it was shadowed by the ever-present tension that gripped Ilvermorny.

Students whispered when she walked past. Conversations would stop midsentence in the corridors, only to resume in hurried murmurs when she turned the corner. Her name was in the air like a floating hex, half-mystery, half-myth. And then there were the MACUSA representatives. They quietly lurked through the halls, appeared in the back of the classrooms and, of course, stopped students and staff in their tracks to ask questions.

Katie tried to drown it out—focusing on her studies, her friends, and her wandwork. But it didn’t stop the occasional cold stares or skeptical glances from others. Even some of the portraits seemed to eye her with curious wariness.

In Magical Botany, the strange tension manifested again. The plant graveyard—an area of the greenhouse designated for irreparably damaged flora—had always felt like a hopeless place.

Until Katie knelt among the shriveled vines and brittle roots and reached out with her magic.

She pressed her fingers gently into the soil beside a withered bellblossom, breathing slowly. She thought of Sean’s voice. Of Gabby’s laughter. Of what it felt like to belong. The golden warmth inside her answered.

A warm current surged beneath her skin, gentle and golden, and the blossom trembled—then slowly unfurled its petals.

Another stirred. Then another.

Katie was so focused she didn’t notice Professor Greer entering the greenhouse.

"Miss Daley," the professor said slowly, awe creeping into her voice. "What exactly are you doing?"

Katie jumped, startled. "I... I was just checking on the soil moisture."

Greer raised a brow, stepping closer. "You revived a very expired Bellblossom."

Katie swallowed. "Maybe luck?”

The professor gave her a long look. “Luck,” Greer repeated, though her tone held something sharper. “I’d be very interested in studying that.”

The lunch bell rang through the dungeon corridors, signaling the end of morning classes. Students began packing their bags, murmuring in relief as they extinguished their cauldrons. The sharp scent of thyme and valerian root still lingered in the air, mixing with the bitter trace of ashwood vapor from today’s lesson.

Katie had just finished cleaning her workbench when Professor Bellamy’s voice cut across the low hum of chatter.

“Miss Daley. Mr. Carrow. Stay behind.”

Katie froze, exchanging a glance with Sean, who gave her the barest nod of reassurance. Around them, the other students filed out, a few casting curious looks over their shoulders. When the last one disappeared through the heavy dungeon doors, Bellamy flicked his wand. The door creaked shut with a soft thud, locking with a sharp click.

Katie’s heartbeat picked up.

Bellamy moved silently to the tall storage cabinet behind his desk and opened it with another wandless flick. From within, he retrieved a slender wooden tray holding five small bottles, each filled with a pale, misty blue liquid. He set the tray on the desk and turned back to face them.

Sean stepped forward slightly, squinting at the bottles. “Calming Draught,” he said quietly. “Medium-grade. Not sedative, but… strong enough to take the edge off.”

Professor Bellamy gave a slow, deliberate nod. “Correct, Mr. Carrow. Brewed to precision.”

Katie furrowed her brow. “Why are you showing us these?”

Bellamy didn’t answer immediately. He folded his hands in front of him, then turned his attention fully to Katie.

“You’ve had more surges recently. Some controlled, some... less so.” His grey eyes were steady but not unkind. “Whether or not you’ve meant to, Miss Daley, your magic reacts to your emotional state—especially your distress.”

Katie looked down, swallowing hard. Her fingers clenched around the edge of her desk.

“Matron Ellesmere shared her concerns,” Bellamy added. “Your magical saturation is… unprecedented.”

“I’m not saying you’ve done anything wrong,” he continued. “But with the Magical Congress roaming the grounds—and two from a branch I’m not fond of crossing—it would be… safer… if we minimize the risk of another magical spike.”

Katie’s shoulders stiffened. “You think I should drug myself to keep them from asking questions?”

Sean stepped in gently. “That’s not what he’s saying.”

Katie shook her head. “It feels like it.”

Professor Bellamy’s expression didn’t waver, but his tone softened. “It’s not about nullification. It’s about control. You’re not ready for an interrogation by MACUSA.”

Sean stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “We just need to get through their visit. If something happens and they see it… we don’t know how far they’ll dig. We can’t risk them finding you.”

Katie’s eyes burned. She hated the idea of dulling herself. But she also knew what had happened the last time she’d lost control, even if she had begun to improve.

After a long pause, she nodded slowly.

“Fine,” she whispered.

Professor Bellamy inclined his head. “They’re labeled by dose. Take one before breakfast, and only if you’re feeling... frayed. No more than two per day.”

Katie stepped forward and picked up one of the small vials. The glass was cool against her fingers. She uncorked it and quickly drank the liquid, grimacing at the bitter taste. 

“It's not the best-tasting.”

She looked at Professor Bellamy dryly, gently loading the rest of the bottles from the tray into her satchel.

Sean placed a hand on her back, subtle and grounding.

Bellamy returned the tray to the cabinet. “Dismissed.”

Katie nodded once, following Sean out of the dungeon. As the heavy door shut behind them, the shadows of the hallway stretched ahead—quiet, flickering, and uncertain.

The enchanted storm cloud had become a near-constant presence outside of the Horned Serpent common room. Normally it drifted silently along the main corridors, blowing gusts to dust and clear cobwebs from high corners. But lately, it seemed to pause when Katie passed beneath.

One afternoon, as she made her way toward the library, the cloud hovered over her. It rumbled faintly, then began to weep—not water, but light. Droplets of soft, golden illumination fell around her like glowing snowflakes.

Katie froze. Students nearby stared.

Sean, walking just behind her, touched her shoulder. "You alright?"

She nodded slowly, not trusting herself to speak. "It’s just… reacting to me. Again."

He glanced up at the cloud and then back at her, offering the smallest of smiles. "It’s not just reacting. It’s recognizing you."

The lights fell softly across her shoulders. She didn’t know whether to be comforted or afraid.

That night in the Horned Serpent dormitory, Katie lay in bed, thoughts racing. Gabby knocked lightly and came in already dressed in pink pajama shorts and a silky top, levitating a bottle of nail polish beside her.

"You up?"

Katie nodded. "Barely."

Gabby plopped beside her on the bed, crossing her legs. "I was going to do my nails for tomorrow. Want yours done too?"

Katie hesitated. "I've never been good with nailpolish."

Gabby grinned. "Then you’re in luck. I’m a pro.”

She conjured a small table between them, taking Katie’s hand into her own on top and began carefully brushing on the soft gold polish.

“Golden shimmer,” Gabby said, holding up the bottle. “Beware of Nifflers.”

Katie finally spoke. "Do you think I’m changing... like me as a person?"

Gabby looked up. "Honestly? Yeah. But not in a bad way. You’re becoming who you were meant to be. That scares everyone in one way or another."

Katie blinked away the heat in her eyes. "I don’t want to scare anyone."

"Then don’t. Just be you. People will catch up. And if they don’t, you’ve got me. And Sean. And Camden. And Lucien. Even Nick, when he's not sulking, of course."

Katie laughed softly, and Gabby smiled.

After the nails dried, Gabby handed her a small potion via the calming draught.

"Tomorrow’s going to be amazing."

Katie stared at the bottle in her hand, then whispered, “I don’t know how to be normal anymore.”

Gabby gave her a wink, the newly conjured bed table disappeared and she levitated the nailpolish back to their place on a shelf. “Then don’t be. Be magical.”

Katie watched Gabby climb into her own bed and disappear under the pink covers.

Chapter Text

The Hall of Seasons had been completely transformed. Enchanted snowflakes hung suspended in the air, slowly drifting down and vanishing before touching the floor. The ceiling had been bewitched to mirror the night sky—deep indigo scattered with twinkling stars. Frosted garlands twined around the pillars, and floating candles cast a soft golden glow over the gathering students. A string quartet played a classical wizarding melody near the stage while staff and faculty mingled in the shadows.

She had faced Watchers. Revived plants with her hands. Heard her name whispered in every corridor. But somehow, this—being seen as herself—felt like the most terrifying magic of all.

Katie paused at the entrance, her breath caught in her throat when she caught sight of the Magical Congress representatives.

Gabby, standing beside her in a dazzling pink gown with cherry blossom clips in her sleek black hair, nudged her playfully. "You okay, Lady Katie?"

Katie, wearing a green gown embroidered with Celtic knots that shimmered faintly under the lights, smoothed her palms nervously over the fabric. Her red hair fell in gentle waves down her back. "I just... It’s a lot. A good lot."

Gabby found the figures causing Katie to tense and grinned. "You look like you walked out of a dream. And don't be nervous—Sean won't know what hit him."

Katie’s cheeks flushed. She opened her mouth to mention the investigators, but Gabby had already pulled her into the crowd.

They quickly spotted the boys standing off to the side—Sean, Camden, Lucien, and Nicholas each dressed in their unique style. Sean’s all-black suit contrasted sharply with his green tie, the same pattern as the embroidery on Katie’s gown. His platinum-blonde hair was slicked neatly, and his greyscale eyes brightened under the enchanted ceiling.

He turned, saw her, and smiled—slow, soft, and disarming. "Wow... you look..."

Katie stepped closer, her voice small. "You always look so composed. What I mean..." But her blush spread, and she looked away.

Sean’s smile deepened. "You too."

He extended a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Katie nodded, heart racing.

The music swelled around them as he led her onto the dance floor. He held her gently, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her with quiet confidence.

Across the room, Dorian sat alone at a corner table, his jaw tight and expression unreadable. He wasn’t watching them directly, but his gaze flicked toward the dance floor every so often—sharp, bitter, and unmistakably resentful.

"Where did you learn how to dance?" she asked, trying to sound casual as they glided across the floor.

Sean gave a small smile. "My aunt made me learn before her wedding. Said someday I’d thank her." He spun her gently. "I guess this is the ‘someday.’"

Across the room, Dorian sat alone at a corner table, his jaw tight and expression unreadable. He wasn’t watching them directly, but his gaze flicked toward the dance floor every so often—sharp, bitter, and unmistakably resentful.

As they moved across the floor, the enchanted ceiling above shimmered faintly, constellations spiraling slowly in time with the music.

After a few moments, Sean spoke softly, "Do you remember the bonding ceremony?"

Katie blinked up at him, startled. "Bits and pieces."

He nodded. "I remember it clearly. I wasn’t nervous, not even a little. Because I knew it was you. My best friend. And I was excited, not scared."

Katie remembered the warmth of the binding light, the way their palms had glowed, and the faint scent of wildflower smoke in the air. She hadn’t understood it then. She did now.

"You always blush when I talk about us," he teased lightly. "Every time. Like clockwork."

She rolled her eyes. "Do not."

"You do," he chuckled. "It’s adorable."

"Maybe it’s just because you say the most embarrassing things," she shot back.

Sean leaned closer. "Or maybe you feel the same way."

Katie opened her mouth to respond, but a shimmer of blue caught her eye.

A ghost floated near them—James Steward, Isolt Sayre’s husband.

He smiled gently. "You remind me of her. Isolt. Fierce, kind, brave. She’d be proud."

Katie stood still, uncertain.

Her chest tightened. To be seen that way—by someone who had truly known Isolt—felt like a blessing carved from history.

James turned to Sean. "Protect her. Not just from danger—but from doubt. Remind her who she is."

Sean inclined his head respectfully. "I will."

Then the ghost drifted away, joining the others circling above.

Sean gently led her toward the refreshments. Gabby and Camden stood at the punch bowl, Gabby muttering about Camden’s antics.

"You seriously spiked it?" Gabby asked.

Camden grinned. "Just a harmless potion. Adds a little sparkle—literally."

Katie raised an eyebrow and took a sip. "Not bad."

Sean tried it. "I knew you were planning something."

While the boys continued talking, William appeared beside Katie, his expression softer than usual.

"You've danced well tonight, young Sayre. Isolt would be proud."

Before Katie could reply, Sean called her name.

She turned, and William had vanished.

Gabby clapped her hands. "Enough loitering! This is a ball, not a punch communion. Back to the dance floor!"

Sean held out his hand again, and Katie followed him back to the center.

Their second dance was slower. Sean gazed at her with a hint of amusement.

"Still blushing." He leaned closer. "You like me a little. Admit it."

"You're impossible," she muttered.

"Only for you."

Sean continued teasing her gently, letting the conversation unfold slowly. He brushed her hair back, eyes scanning hers. "Do you know what I’ve always wanted to hear you say?"

Katie swallowed, heart pounding. "What?"

Sean grinned softly. "That you love me."

Katie’s breath caught. She tried to look away, but Sean gently tipped her chin. "Because I do."

Katie’s lips parted, but her voice failed. Before she could speak, Sean spun her—then pulled her back against him, into a kiss that caught her completely off guard.

It wasn’t just one kiss. It was several, long and breathless. Her hands gripped his jacket. When they finally stopped, she whispered without thinking, barely audible, "I love you." Her eyes reflected the disbelief of what she had just blurted out.

Sean smiled. "I was really hoping you'd say that."

They kissed again—until clapping interrupted.

Gabby, Camden, and Lucien cheered, while Nick simply grinned as he danced with Lucien.

Katie buried her face in Sean’s chest, her hands grasping Sean's jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Oh my god."

Camden and Gabby danced over.

"So, what are we calling this?" Camden asked. "Lovebirds? Soulmates? Future power couple of the century?"

Sean kept a straight face. "I prefer Sean and Katie."

Gabby smirked. "Cute."

"Making out on the dance floor, really?" Camden teased.

Katie looked horrified. "We weren’t—"

Sean interrupted smoothly, "She’s just very expressive."

Katie covered her face. "You guys suck so much."

"That means she loves you," Gabby said sweetly.

Camden elbowed Sean. "So are you two, like, official now?"

Sean looked to Katie, letting her answer. Katie, still hiding her face, gave a small nod.

"Good," Camden said. "Now we know who’s dancing together at every occasion."

As they laughed and danced away, Sean pulled Katie close.

"I love you, too," he whispered.

Katie gasped as she felt a burning sensation curl around her wrist. A soft glow traced a pattern—a Celtic knot of gold-nude ink. Sean’s wrist shimmered the same.

A golden warmth curled around her wrist like a ribbon of fire. The Celtic knot shimmered into view beneath her skin, pulsing once with life—hers, and his.

"It’s part of the soul bond," he murmured. "We both admitted true feelings, so the bond is complete."

Sean led her outside. Snow fell gently under the moonlight. The grounds were quiet, the sound of music faint behind them.

Katie leaned into him. "I never want to forget tonight."

He kissed her forehead. "You won’t. This is only the beginning."

Above them, a few ghostly figures danced among the stars.

And somewhere nearby, the enchanted storm cloud rumbled faintly—then released a soft shimmer of golden mist that floated gently down like snow, the castle’s quiet way of offering its blessing.

Chapter Text

Morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Ilvermorny dining hall, casting golden rays onto the long tables filled with sleepy students. The hall buzzed with low murmurs, the clinking of breakfast dishes, and occasional bursts of laughter from those still giddy from the night before.

Katie had taken one of the potions Bellamy had given her before leaving her dorm, the faint aftertaste of herbs still lingering as she crossed the hall. It helped keep her pulse steady now, her thoughts a little less sharp-edged than they might have been.

She sat at the Horned Serpent table, stirring honey into her tea, trying not to meet the eyes she could feel watching her. Her cheeks flushed as her gaze flicked upward—and landed on Sean, already seated beside her. He looked effortlessly calm, as usual, hair a little tousled from sleep, greyscale eyes flicking with mischief as he reached for a buttered scone.

"You slept in," he said, casually brushing her hand as she reached for a napkin.

Katie blushed harder and focused intently on the table. "Just... tired."

"I can't imagine why."

She gave him a side glance, trying not to smile.

"I can!" Gabby plopped down across from them, already grinning. Camden slid in next to her, followed closely by Nick and Lucien, who looked slightly more rested than expected.

"Morning, newlyweds," Gabby said sweetly.

Katie nearly choked on her tea. "Excuse me?"

"Just wondering if we should start working on your wedding gift registry," Gabby continued, innocent as ever. "I know a great place that does enchanted toasters."

Camden leaned his elbows on the table. "Maybe one of those mirrors that give fashion advice. Sean could use the help."

"And Katie could use one that compliments her every morning," Lucien added with a wink.

Sean, unfazed, calmly spread jam on his toast. "I’ll take enchanted matching mugs. Hers will say 'always blushing' and mine will say 'always right.'"

Katie gave him a sharp nudge with her elbow, which only made the others laugh harder.

"Alright, alright," Nick said, smirking. "Let them eat in peace."

Gabby sighed dramatically. "You two are no fun. But seriously... you both looked like magic out there. Literal magic."

Katie smiled faintly, remembering the swirl of music, lights, snow, and warmth. But her heart twinged with uncertainty. Things felt perfect in that ballroom—but reality would always creep back in at some point.

She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more: the looks, the whispers, or the fact that her magic hadn’t faded at all. It hummed just beneath her skin, quiet but constant, like a second pulse. How long before someone demanded answers she didn’t have?

Katie stirred her tea again, cheeks still glowing. “We were just dancing.”

“Dancing?!” Camden barked a laugh. “That was not just dancing. That was practically a proposal with extra steps.”

Gabby leaned forward conspiratorially. “Be honest—was there a ring hidden in the bouquet of floating candles?”

Sean sipped his tea and answered evenly, “Not yet. Still deciding between emerald or diamond.”

Katie glared at Sean for adding to the torment.

Lucien dramatically gasped. “He’s joking, right?”

Nick shrugged. “Honestly, I’d believe it. The look on Katie’s face when they kissed—she looked like her soul just left her body.”

“Because I wasn’t expecting it!” Katie protested, glaring at them all. “You all were watching?”

“You were the only thing anyone was watching,” Camden said, grinning. “It was like, snowflakes, music, and then BAM—romantic novel finale.”

Gabby sighed dreamily. “It really was.”

Sean turned to Katie, his voice low but teasing. “You’re still blushing.”

“Because they won’t stop talking about it!”

“That... and you love me,” he said in a whisper only she could hear.

Katie looked away, but not before he caught her small smile.

Lucien leaned closer to Nick. "We’re not off the hook either. Camden caught us kissing."

"Correction," Camden said, mouth full. "I caught you 'making out'. There's a difference."

Katie laughed softly, grateful for the distraction.

Nick tilted his head. “So, is this the part where we all awkwardly pretend nothing happened and go back to being normal?”

“Normal?” Lucien asked. “We passed normal months ago.”

Camden raised his mug. “To our very magical, very dysfunctional friend group.”

Katie looked at Sean with a soft smile, "to our family."

"To family!" Gabby raised her own.

“Cheers to that," Nick raised his glass last, a smile lingering on his own lips.

A few seats down, Dorian sat stiffly with a half-eaten plate of eggs, eyes flicking occasionally toward their table. He wasn’t glowering, not exactly—but he wasn’t ignoring them either.

As the meal went on, the table slowly grew quieter. The shadows shifted. Conversations turned toward classes, due assignments, and patrol rotations. Professor Bellamy strode by, offering a nod toward their group, eyes lingering just a little longer than usual.

Katie followed his gaze, her thoughts drifting. The soul bond markings on her wrist still faintly glimmered beneath her sleeve.

Sean bumped her shoulder gently. "You alright?"

She nodded, eyes distant. "Just... thinking."

He didn’t push her, and she was grateful.

Outside the windows, frost began to form on the glass. Winter had settled over Ilvermorny. The ball was over, the snow still fell, and the real world waited on the other side of breakfast.

The buzz of the morning faded into a more somber tone as they all rose to begin their day—back to classes, to secrets, to mysteries that refused to stay hidden.

Katie took one last glance at her friends, the bond between them warm and real. She adjusted the sleeve covering her wrist, where gold shimmered softly beneath the fabric.

The magic hadn’t faded. Not even a little.

That afternoon, the group drifted toward the library for some much-needed calm. The air smelled of old parchment and ink, dust dancing in golden shafts of sunlight. They spread out across their usual corner table—Sean flipping through a Defense journal, Katie journaling, Gabby lounging with a fashion magazine, and Nick pretending to read while casting suspicious looks at Lucien, who had wandered off toward the enchantments section.

Lucien returned with a strange, green book clutched to his chest, face pink and eyes wide.

"This is the library," Nick said flatly. "Stop talking to it."

"Lucien just flirted with a book," Gabby stage-whispered.

"It flirted with me first!" Lucien said defensively. "It whispered poetry. I was raised to respond politely."

"What did it say?" Katie asked, intrigued.

"Something about aching parchment, moonlight, and a longing to be gently opened," Lucien replied with a theatrical sigh.

Sean snapped his book closed. "Nope. I’m out. You’re on your own."

"You are not allowed to emotionally imprint on library material," Nick said sternly, snatching the book from Lucien and placing it back on the shelf.

"Was it the green one with silver lettering? That thing complimented my grip on a quill last year," Gabby chimed in.

"It told me I was its missing chapter," Lucien added.

Just then, a different book behind them creaked open on its own. A sultry, French-accented voice drifted out:

"Lucien… mon doux lecteur… reviens à moi…"

Nick’s face went pale. “Nope.” He rushed over, slammed the book shut, and shoved it onto the highest shelf he could reach. “That book needs professional help.”

A pause. 

Then Katie stepped to the shelf curiously. "I just want to study the enchantment structure. It might be an old sentient charm—"

She lifted the book. It glowed faintly and shivered in her hands.

"Oh… such gentle hands…" it moaned.

The room went still. Sean was across the space in a flash, ripping the book from her like it had committed a crime.

"Absolutely not," he growled.

"She touched me like I mattered!" the book cried as Sean held it at arm’s length.

"You're going in the nearest cursed vault. Permanently."

"I didn’t even say anything," Katie mumbled.

Gabby was doubled over, tears of laughter in her eyes. "It moaned, Katie!"

Lucien folded his arms. "It never said anything about my hands…"

Chapter Text

The frost on the Ilvermorny windows had grown thicker overnight, casting delicate patterns across the panes like nature’s own stained glass. Students walked through the halls in coats and scarves, their footsteps muffled by enchanted rugs that stayed warm even as the air grew colder.

Katie walked beside Sean down one of the long stone corridors, her gloved hands stuffed in her pockets. Though they didn’t speak at first, the silence between them was comfortable now, each step in rhythm with the other. It had only been a day since the ball, but it felt like they had crossed some invisible threshold neither wanted to retreat from.

Still, Katie’s thoughts were anything but calm. Beneath her sleeve, the delicate mark on her wrist—the soulbond marking—glowed faintly when her skin met Sean’s. She wasn’t sure if he noticed, but she felt it.

They approached the Horned Serpent common room door, its coiling carvings glinting in the low morning light. Sean paused, glancing toward her. “You okay?”

Katie nodded. “Just... sorting through everything still.”

Before he could reply, the sound of footsteps behind them made them both turn.

Gabby jogged up, her cheeks pink from the cold. “Katie,” she whispered as she reached them, casting a quick glance at Sean before pulling her friend gently aside.

Katie blinked in surprise. “What is it?”

Gabby leaned in close, her voice hushed. “I overheard Professors Nox and Greer in the greenhouse this morning. They were talking about Watchers being spotted near the border wards. They’re worried, Katie. And they think the ones we saw in the village weren’t random.”

Katie’s blood chilled, and not from the weather. “They think... what? That we were targeted?”

Gabby’s lips pressed together. “They didn’t say it directly. But the words ‘pattern of movement’ and ‘strategic interest’ came up. And they definitely mentioned you.”

Katie stole a glance at Sean, who was still watching them from a respectful distance, arms crossed but alert.

“I haven’t told him yet,” Gabby added, noting the glance. “Thought I should tell you first.”

Katie nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Thanks.”

Gabby squeezed her hand. “Just… be careful.”

While heading to their Defense lesson, an unexpected message arrived by an elegant origami bird, fluttering toward Katie and Gabby during breakfast. Both girls exchanged a look before reading the formal, crisply worded summons:

Miss Daley and Miss Huang,

Your presence is requested immediately in the Headmistress’s office.

You will be meeting with representatives from the Department of Magical Security. Please cooperate fully.

—Headmistress Morrigan

They were escorted by Professor Vale, who said nothing beyond, “Try to keep your answers honest but brief.”

Inside Morrigan’s office, two unfamiliar figures stood near the hearth—one a tall, dark-haired witch in a deep green cloak, the other a tired-looking wizard with half-moon spectacles and a nervous quill scribbling on its own over his shoulder.

“Miss Daley. Miss Huang,” the witch greeted, her tone clipped but not unkind. “I’m Auror Esme Fallon, Department of Magical Security. This is Agent Merritt. We’re following up on the incident in Wendalin’s Hollow.”

Gabby folded her hands calmly, though Katie could feel her tension.

“Yes ma'am?” Katie asked.

Fallon raised a brow. “We believe your group of friends were present during a known temporal anomaly and that several Watchers appeared in close proximity—both rare, and both troubling.”

Agent Merritt cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Did either of you attempt to interact with the Watchers directly?”

Katie hesitated, but Gabby answered first. “Not directly at first. But we saw them before they advanced towards us.”

Fallon nodded. “And you, Miss Daley—have you had any unusual magical manifestations since?”

Katie glanced briefly at Morrigan, who offered a small, unreadable nod of reassurance. “Some,” Katie admitted. “But nothing I can't explain. The head Matron says it can happen with witches when their magic manifests later than normal.” Her mind quickly searched for the memory of when she took the calming draught that morning.

Fallon exchanged a look with Merritt. “There are concerns, Miss Daley, about your role in these recent... patterns. This is not an accusation. But you may be considered a person of interest going forward. For your safety, as well as others.”

Katie’s stomach twisted, but she kept her voice steady. “Are we in trouble?”

“No,” Fallon said. “But the Watchers are not random. Something is drawing them in. And if it’s you—we intend to find out why.”

The questioning ended soon after, with both girls dismissed under Morrigan’s watchful eye.

As the door closed behind them, Gabby whispered, “That wasn’t just a check-in. They’re watching you.”

Katie didn’t respond. She already knew.

The rest of the day passed with an odd tension hanging in the air. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Nox introduced the topic of glamours and magical disguises, discussing the many ways witches and wizards had hidden their identities over the centuries. Diagrams of illusion spells and charm circles were drawn in shimmering chalk on the blackboard, changing shape as Nox spoke.

When it came time to practice the Revealing Charm, Katie partnered with Gabby again. The class buzzed with energy as students took turns casting spells. Katie’s wand felt steady in her grip, but her heart raced slightly as she focused on the incantation.

As she cast the spell on a fellow student—an upper-year Thunderbird who volunteered—there was a flicker of something strange. For the briefest second, the spell seemed to catch on more than just the student's glamour charm. Their surroundings shimmered oddly, a fleeting suggestion of something older, deeper, before snapping back into normal view. There was a smell too—just faintly. Like ash on snow, though no one else seemed to notice it.

Katie’s eyes narrowed. Had she imagined it?

The moment passed quickly, and the student laughed it off, thanking Katie for the spell. But it left her unsettled.

Later that night, in the common room, Katie curled up by the enchanted fireplace, a book open in her lap but her thoughts far away. Sean joined her quietly, not saying much, simply sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch.

She took comfort in it. Even without words, he always made her feel like she didn’t have to carry everything.

Katie glanced at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Gabby told me what she heard. About the Watchers.”

Sean turned slightly, his grey eyes serious. “She said you were called into the Headmistress’ office and spoke to Aurors, also. I figured something was up. You looked tense all day.”

“I am,” she admitted. “It’s not just that the Watchers are appearing… it’s that they’re watching… and so is the Magical Congress. I’m part of what they’re interested in.”

Sean reached out, gently brushing her fingers with his. “Whatever they’re after, MACUSA or the Watchers, they’re not getting through me. Or anyone else who cares about you.”

Katie gave a small smile, the warmth of the fire contrasting the unease still lingering in her chest.

The fire crackled beside them, and the soulbond shimmered faintly beneath their sleeves, glowing like starlight under their skin.

Whatever lay ahead, they’d face it.

That night, talk began to ripple through the school about the approaching holiday break. Some students were staying, but most would be leaving Ilvermorny for the week to visit family and No-Maj relatives. The walls buzzed with plans, goodbyes, and excitement.

Katie sat quietly as others chatted around her. She would be returning to the Daley household, and though she was grateful, the idea of spending even a short time apart from Sean left her stomach tight. She didn’t say it aloud, but the thought of not seeing him for a whole week made her uneasy.

She wondered if her family would notice the changes. If Mrs. Daley would still recognize her laugh. If her old bedroom would feel like home, or like a room left behind by a girl she no longer was.

Sean leaned against the wall beside her, his hand brushing hers again, as if he already sensed it.

Neither of them said what they were thinking. But the silence between them spoke more than words ever could.

Chapter Text

Snow blanketed the streets of Rhode Island in thick drifts, muffling the noise of passing cars and dusting rooftops with a soft layer of white. The Daley house, modest but cozy, was strung with multicolored lights and the scent of pine and cinnamon drifted from the kitchen. It had been a few days since Katie returned home for the winter break, and though it warmed her heart to be with her adoptive family again, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting back to Ilvermorny—and to Sean.

Katie sat on the living room floor beside Ricky over a game of Monopoly. Spread around the board between them were scraps of parchment, a sketch of the Ilvermorny crest, and her wand, which she let him examine under strict instruction not to touch.

“So there are four houses?” he asked, brow furrowed. “Like teams?”

“Kind of,” Katie replied, smiling. “Horned Serpent, Thunderbird, Wampus, and Pukwudgie. They’re more like families at school. I’m in Horned Serpent.”

“That one sounds the coolest. Do you have to fight snakes or something?”

She laughed. “No, but there are magical creatures and dueling classes. And Potions—like magical chemistry.”

Ricky’s eyes were full of curiosity. Katie’s heart swelled a little. Sharing this part of her life helped anchor her, reminding her that she belonged somewhere—even if her past still haunted her.

Later that day, she went grocery shopping with Mrs. Daley. Snowflakes twirled down like confetti as they left the car and entered the small store, sleigh bells jingling over the door.

Katie paused near the frozen food aisle, her eyes catching on a tall figure in a gray hood standing near the back exit. She blinked. The figure was gone.

“Katie?” her adoptive mother asked, concerned.

“I—I think I’m coming down with something,” Katie lied quickly, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Can we head home?”

Mrs. Daley agreed without question, her concern growing. Katie remained silent on the drive back, heart pounding. Watchers... even here?

That evening, the family exchanged gifts around the crackling fireplace. Katie received a new pair of gloves, a handmade sweater from Mrs. Daley, and a journal with a silver serpent etched onto the cover—an uncanny coincidence. She smiled through the gathering but her thoughts remained restless.

The night before returning to Ilvermorny, Katie lay curled under her quilt, dreaming.

Katie stood leaning against the doorframe, the door cracked open just enough to hear her parents’ voices bleed through from down the hallway.

“She’s only a child,” her mother’s voice cracked, raw from hours of weeping. “But MACUSA won’t care about that. They’ve already sent owls. You know what happened—over a dozen gone. Entire families. They’ll punish her—or worse…”

Her father’s voice was low, tight. “I know. But sealing her magic? Do you understand what that means?”

A silence. Then, her mother again—quieter, fiercer:

“It means she lives.”

Katie clutched her nightgown at the chest, her heart hammering. She didn’t understand all of it—MACUSA, punishments, sealing away her magic—but she understood enough. She understood that they were talking about her.

Her father spoke again, but softer this time. “Then we need to do it… soon.”

Katie backed from the door, but the floorboards betrayed her. The parlor went silent. Her mother’s footsteps were the next sound she heard.

The room glowed with hundreds of candles, their flames bending as though listening.

Katie stood trembling in the circle her parents had drawn across the floorboards in white chalk. Her mother knelt in front of her, wand raised, its tip glowing with a fierce, golden light.

“I’m sorry, love,” Deirdre whispered, tears slipping down her face. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Her father stood just behind her, rigid, his fists clenched at his sides. He could not watch, but he did not stop it.

Katie opened her mouth to protest, but no words came—only a frightened whimper. The golden magic spread like liquid sunlight, curling around her limbs, pressing tighter and tighter. Her chest burned. Her skin prickled.

And then she felt it—her magic pulling away, ripped from her like threads unraveling from cloth. Katie screamed, but the spell swallowed the sound whole. Her voice was gone, her power gone, leaving only silence where once she had burned.

The shimmer faded. The chalk circle dimmed. Her mother collapsed forward, pulling Katie into her arms, weeping against her hair.

Katie stared blankly at the candle flames. She had never felt so small, or so empty.

The memory shifted again. Flames. Screaming. Her parents were gone—taken by someone cloaked in darkness and a black top hat.

Then she was in another memory. Sitting in that sterile room. Professor Bellamy stood nearby, a little sterner. Another wizard stood beside him, their face obscured.

“We’ll seal her memories and place her with a family until her magic resurfaces,” the unknown wizard said.

Bellamy muttered. “We can’t risk her being discovered until she’s ready.”

Young Sean stood in the corner beside her solemnly. He said nothing.

Katie watched as her young self drank a potion and Professor Bellamy raised his wand, her eyes fluttering closed as her world faded to black.

With a gasp, she woke in bed, breath ragged. Her chest ached, but clarity burned within her.

Before it was time for the carriage to appear, Katie sat at the kitchen table nursing a warm mug of tea. Mrs. Daley sat across from her, her hands folded around a steaming cup of her own, eyes studying Katie carefully.

"You’ve barely said a word this morning," Mrs. Daley said gently.

Katie looked down at her mug. "I’m just… I don’t know. Nervous, maybe. About going back."

Mrs. Daley tilted her head. "Don't you like it there?"

Katie hesitated. "It’s everything. I love it there, but I feel like… like things are building too fast. Like something is going to happen, and I don’t know if I’m ready… for all of the exams."

Mrs. Daley reached across the table and took her hand. "You don’t have to be ready for them yet, Katie. Just study and be your smarty-pants self. That’s always been more than enough."

Katie swallowed hard. "What if I’m not the same girl you took in?"

Mr. Daley entered the kitchen just then, ruffling his hair with one hand. "You’ll always be our little girl, no matter what magic or,” he tried his best to find something to compare but couldn't. “—or magic you’re tangled up in."

Mrs. Daley smiled at her husband having watched the invisible gears grinding then nodded. "You’re stronger than you think. And no matter what you find out about your past, it doesn’t change who you are now. You’re kind, you’re brave, incredibly smart, and you’ve got more empathy in your heart than anyone. You're what matters to us."

Katie blinked quickly to clear the sting in her eyes. She stood and wrapped them both in a hug, tighter than usual.

"Thanks," she whispered. "I love you.”

A few hours later, as the carriage back to Ilvermorny left her front yard, Katie sat by the frosted window, her thoughts heavy. The school loomed ahead, but so did the secrets of her past—and she was determined to uncover them all.

Chapter Text

The return to Ilvermorny was different this time.

Carriages swept students back through snowy skies toward the towering granite castle perched on Mount Greylock. Katie leaned her head against the cold window of her carriage, watching the blur of trees below. Though she'd only been gone a week, it felt like the break had changed everything. Or maybe it was the dream—the memories—that still clung to her chest like frostbite.

Inside the grand hall, a muted buzz filled the air as students settled in, luggage levitated by prefects and robes dusted of lingering snow. The enchanted storm cloud that wandered the upper hallways rumbled faintly in greeting, sending down a gentle sprinkle of light over the crowd.

Gabby met Katie at the main doors. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said lightly, adjusting her cherry blossom hair clip.

“I kind of did,” Katie murmured, but she didn’t elaborate.

Later that evening, after classes were dismissed for the day and Katie had a chance to breathe, she found Sean waiting for her near the fireplace in the Horned Serpent common room.

He gave her a small smile as she sank down beside him. “Are you okay?”

Katie hesitated, fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve. “I remembered something. During break.”

Sean turned fully to face her. “What kind of something?”

She stared into the fire for a long moment before answering. “My mother. She sealed away my magic. She said it was to protect me. And then... she died. The Watchers were there.”

Sean was silent, letting the words settle.

“There was more,” Katie continued, her voice soft. “I saw Professor Bellamy. And you. I was ten. I drank a potion to forget everything. Bellamy and someone else decided to send me away until my magic came back.”

Sean’s breath caught.

“I remember now, Sean,” Katie said. “I remember you standing there.”

Sean didn’t deny it. His voice was barely a whisper. “I swore not to say anything until you remembered.”

She looked at him sharply. “That’s not your decision to make.”

“I know,” he said. “I didn’t want to lie. But I didn’t want to break an oath either.”

Katie pressed her hands over her face, exhaling. “Everything’s just... heavier now.”

There was a scream building in her chest—a desperate need to rage at the people who had stolen her choices, at the time lost, the truths withheld. But instead, she just sat there. Silent. Because deep down, some part of her had always suspected this. The missing piece had simply returned to where it belonged.

Sean reached out and gently took her hand. “I'm glad you're starting to remember more. I know it's unfair, but it feels like the baggage is getting lighter for me because I don't have to hide it.”

They sat in silence, the flames casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. Despite everything, Katie found herself leaning into him, finding warmth in his presence, and beginning—just beginning—to breathe a little easier.

Katie had returned. And with her, so had more of the past.

The next day, the group reunited in the common room, each bundled in layers of wool and enchanted scarves as they swapped stories over steaming mugs of cocoa.

"My cousin tried to enchant a gingerbread man into dancing," Camden said. "Ended in disaster. Our Christmas tree lost two ornaments and its skirt."

Lucien grinned. "My grandmother taught me a new protection rune. Then she hexed my hot chocolate when I wasn’t paying attention. My eyebrows still haven’t forgiven me."

Nick added dryly, "I stayed in the city. Helped my uncle fix a warding system. A very boring, non-cursed one. For once."

Gabby leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "My parents made me wear a dress that looked like a Crup exploded on it. You should’ve seen it. Ribbons everywhere."

They all laughed, warmth weaving through the group like a spell of its own. Katie smiled quietly, listening. Being surrounded by this—by them—made everything feel just a little more bearable.

She didn’t say much, but when Gabby bumped her shoulder and offered her a cinnamon biscuit, Katie squeezed her hand in thanks.

Outside, the wind howled faintly, brushing against the castle windows. But inside their little corner, it was warm, filled with stories and the sound of belonging.

Chapter Text

The first full day back at Ilvermorny began with a grey, snow-blanketed morning. The castle groaned as its stones adjusted to the cold, the enchanted storm cloud that roamed the high halls unusually still, hovering like a brooding omen. Katie noticed it the moment she stepped into the corridor, her breath puffing in the chilly air. It drifted above, quiet as fog, trailing a faint trail of glittering light.

Classes resumed quickly, and although professors tried to act as if everything were normal, a hum of tension lingered just beneath the surface. Extra patrols of enchanted guardians had been added. Whispers filled the halls—more Watcher sightings, this time closer to the edge of the forest.

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the air smelled of chalk and old parchment, and the high-arched windows let in beams of overcast light that danced across the polished wooden floors. Professor Nox stood at the front, her long robes sweeping behind her as she addressed the fifth- and sixth-year students.

“Today,” she said, voice clipped and sharp as ever, “we begin controlled dueling. No Dark curses. No childish hexes. You are to test your reflexes, not your cruelty. If you can’t manage restraint, I will assign you essay work on wandless casting theory for the rest of the year.”

Several groans followed. Nox ignored them.

“Partners have been assigned. Line up.”

Katie clutched her wand tightly as the names were read out.

“Carrow and Huang,” Nox called first.

Sean gave Katie a subtle glance before moving toward the front with Gabby. Gabby offered Katie a thumbs-up and a wink as she passed.

“Daley and Blackwell.”

Katie’s stomach dropped. Dorian smirked across the room, already sauntering to the center of the dueling platform like he owned it.

Camden muttered under his breath from beside her, “Want me to trip him?”

Katie shook her head and exhaled slowly. “No… I’ve got this.”

Camden frowned, unconvinced. “Just yell if you need backup.”

Katie stepped onto the podium opposite Dorian. His eyes gleamed with that usual arrogance, his lip curled in a sneer.

“Try not to embarrass yourself, Daley,” he drawled. “Though I suppose you’re used to that by now.”

Katie’s grip on her wand tightened. Memories flickered—her first duel with him, the snake incident, the whispers in the hall. She’d held back before. Not today.

Professor Nox’s voice cut through. “Bow. Begin on my count. No spells until then.”

They bowed—Katie stiffly, Dorian mockingly.

“Three... two... one—begin.”

Dorian struck first. “Flipendo!”

Katie blocked quickly. “Protego!”

The jinx ricocheted off her shield, slamming into a suit of armor in the corner. It clattered to the ground.

“Oh, this’ll be fun,” Dorian grinned.

He fired again—“Petrificus Totalus!” Katie deflected it with another shield. “Stupefy!” Blocked.

She didn’t retaliate.

“Come on, Daley,” he taunted. “I see you’re still trying to convince everyone you’re not a freak.”

Katie’s hands clenched. Her shield wavered.

“You can throw up all the shields you want, Daley—it doesn’t change what you are. Maybe Sean likes his girlssss cold-blooded.”

Katie’s magic surged.

She raised her wand. Her wrist pulsed—no, the soulbond pulsed, hot and steady beneath her sleeve. Her chest tightened, her vision tunneled, and she cast.

“Expelliarmus!”

The spell burst from her wand not in red—but white-hot gold. A thundercrack echoed as it hit Dorian squarely in the chest, launching him across the room. His wand flew. His body slammed into the wall with a thud.

Gasps exploded from the crowd.

Dorian groaned on the floor. A slow trickle of blood from his ear. He looked dazed, confused.

Katie’s wand hand trembled.

Nox stalked forward, eyes narrowed but unreadable. “Get him to the infirmary,” she ordered a nearby student. Her focus shifted to Katie.

“What was—?”

“I—I didn’t mean—he said—” Katie stammered.

Gabby was at her side. “She didn’t use anything dark, Professor. It just... it was just…strong.”

Sean stood, unmoving, eyes locked on Katie, concern etched into every line of his face.

Nox studied Katie. Not angry. Analytical. Almost curious. “You’re dismissed.”

Katie nodded slowly. Her feet felt like stone.

From above, the enchanted storm cloud gave a single, quiet rumble—like distant thunder acknowledging what had occurred.

At lunch, Katie sat with her chowder untouched. Her wand hand still tingled. Sean sat beside her, quiet and steady, watching her with guarded patience.

Gabby flopped down. In a quick attempt to break the tension she said, “I know if Nox critiques my stance one more time, I’m quitting combat magic and joining choir.” But it missed the mark.

Camden leaned in. “You okay?” he asked Katie.

Katie only whispered, “I hurt him.”

“He’s walking,” Sean replied. “Stumbling, maybe. But walking.”

Gabby leaned in. “He called you a freak.”

Katie nodded.

“And dragged Sean into it,” Camden growled.

Lucien looked up from his roll. “What did he say exactly?”

Katie hesitated. “He called me a freak and said Sean probably likes his girls cold-blooded.”

Sean’s jaw tightened.

Camden shook his head. “You had every right.”

Katie sighed. “It was just Expelliarmus. But it felt like something opened. Like it wasn’t me casting—it was something through me.”

Sean’s voice was calmer now. “You didn’t lose control. You pushed back.”

Gabby nudged Katie. “Someone had to toss him into a wall at some point, I’m glad it was you.”

Katie let out a small breath of air that was nearly a laugh. “I still feel awful,” she admitted.

Sean finally gave her a softer look, his voice just above a whisper. “That’s good.”

Katie blinked at him. “What?”

“It means you’re not like him.”

The warmth in his eyes undid her a little. She looked away quickly, cheeks pink.

Gabby clapped her hands. “Right. We’re not dwelling. Botany’s next, and if I have to deal with cranky Firepetal Blooms, I need you to carry the snacks.”

Katie smiled faintly. “You want me to bring cookies for the plants?”

“They feed on emotional energy, not literal food, but I appreciate your optimism,” Gabby said brightly.

Camden stood, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Go tame some angry flowers!”

Professor Greer took the class to the edge of the garden, to the "plant graveyard" where withered stems and shriveled leaves stood like ghosts.

"Reviving dead plants isn’t your assignment," Greer said. "But some of you may be able to learn from what remains."

Katie hung back after class, drawn to the forgotten corner. Something tugged at her senses. When no one was looking, she crouched and laid her hand on a brittle vine. Her fingers glowed faintly—that silvery aura she'd started to recognize.

The vine pulsed. Green returned. Slowly, carefully, it stirred back to life.

"More ‘luck’?" came Greer’s voice behind her. Katie jolted.

The professor looked at the newly vibrant plant, then at Katie with narrowed, unreadable eyes. "Be careful, Miss Daley. Even healing can have consequences."

That evening, Katie and Gabby sat cross-legged in their room. Gabby hummed as she painted her nails a shimmery rose gold.

"You’re quiet," she said, glancing up. "Thinking about Sean?"

Katie blushed. "No. I mean… maybe."

Gabby giggled. "I knew it. Did you know Camden is already planning what our couples' costumes are going to be for next Halloween?"

Katie barely smiled but remained silent.

“You need sparkle.” Gabby had finished shaking her hands to dry the new coats of nail polish.

Katie extended her hand. As Gabby gently took it, Katie felt the warmth of friendship settle over her, grounding her in a world that suddenly felt full of questions.

"We have each other, you know," Gabby said softly, more serious now. "Whatever all of this turns into. Watchers, weird clouds, glowing plants… you’re not alone."

Katie squeezed her fingers. "Thanks, Gab. I mean it."

That night, as the enchanted cloud drifted quietly past the window, Katie took a Dreamless Potion and closed her eyes. But even the most powerful magic couldn’t quiet everything. Somewhere in the distance, a whisper moved through the dark, curling around the castle like breath.

The past was closer to being unearthed. And the future had already begun to shift.

Chapter Text

Katie hadn’t meant to blast Dorian across the room.

And yet the image stuck with her—the flash of white-hot magic, the way he hit the wall like a thrown ragdoll, and the silence that followed. Even now, as she walked through the quiet corridor toward the library, her wand hand still tingled faintly, as though the remnants of that power hadn’t quite let go.

“...and that,” Lucien was saying with a flourish, “is why I’ll never again duel in front of a guy I’m trying to impress.”

Gabby laughed beside him. “You say that like it ever stopped you.”

Katie, Gabby, Lucien, and Camden strolled in their usual formation—Gabby slightly ahead and narrating everything, Camden relaxed at the rear, and Lucien drifting between them like a curious bee.

As they neared a carved archway flanked by statues of twin phoenixes, Katie slowed her step.

“What’s in here?” she asked, eyeing the faint shimmer across the entrance.

Gabby turned mid-step. “You’ve never been in the Hall of Legacy?”

Lucien made a dramatic gasp. “Katie. No. This is sacred ground.”

Camden smirked. “Sacred, huh? You mean where they show off all the fancy stuff we’ll never win?”

Gabby rolled her eyes and tugged Katie’s sleeve. “Come on. You’ve got to see it.”

They stepped through the enchanted archway, and the air immediately shifted—cooler, heavier, as if steeped in stories. The Hall of Legacy stretched in a long, grand corridor, its polished floor reflecting the glint of sunlight that streamed through stained glass windows depicting magical milestones in Ilvermorny’s history.

To the left, golden and crystal trophies gleamed behind protective glass: Botany Cup Winners, Alchemy Excellence Medals, even a weathered silver cup labeled ‘Most Improved Flying Technique – 1926’.

“I want that one,” Lucien said, pointing to a trophy shaped like a blooming rose wreathed in thorns. “Flourishing Flora Cup. Only three ever awarded.”

Katie lingered beside a larger display with moving photos. One showed a group of Ilvermorny students in dark teal robes standing proudly beside students from Mahoutokoro and Castelobruxo, the image labeled:  

The Triumvirate Trials – 1995

A gold plaque explained it was a magical competition of three events that tested magical skill, wisdom, and cross-cultural cooperation.

“Wait,” Katie murmured. “Is this like the Triwizard Tournament in Europe?”

“Sort of,” Camden replied. “But less people got turned into fish or nearly burned alive. It’s more about unity than, y’know… glory.”

“Still had a battle of magical creatures though,” Lucien added. “Castelobruxo brought a fire-breathing tapir once.”

They turned a corner, passing displays of enchanted instruments, dueling robes from legendary matches, and even a massive botanical sculpture preserved under stasis—an ivy dragon, its leafy wings forever frozen mid-flap.

At the end of the hall stood a small wooden pedestal with three tattered, talking hats perched in a triangle.

Each hat had its own stitched personality—one was sleek and angular, another floppy and threadbare, and the last looked like it had been patched with dragon hide and patchouli.

“Well, well,” croaked the angular one as the group approached. “Visitors. We don’t get many anymore. Ilvermorny students don’t value tradition the way they used to.”

“Oh hush,” groaned the floppy one. “They’re probably just here for the library. We’re not that interesting.”

The dragon-hide hat straightened proudly. “I told you someone would stop by eventually. You owe me three Sickles, Patchface.”

Katie’s eyes widened. “Are you… sorting hats?”

The hats all bristled.

“Sorting relatives,” the angular one corrected. “We’re the brothers of the Sorting Hat, thank you very much.”

Gabby giggled. “You’re related to the Sorting Hat? From Hogwarts?”

“He’s the eldest,” said Patchface, sighing dramatically. “Always thought he knew everything.”

“I’m Tatter, he’s Patchface, and the grumpy one is Stitchwick,” said the dragon-hide hat.

Stitchwick grumbled, “I am not grumpy. I’m dignified.”

“Do you sort people too?” Katie asked.

“Used to,” said Tatter. “Experimental sorts for extracurricular clubs. But they stopped that after someone landed in the Secret Society of Wand Polishers by accident.”

Lucien burst out laughing. “Oh, I need to hear more about that sometime.”

Katie smiled as the others kept talking. There was something comforting about the dusty charm of the Hall of Legacy—like Ilvermorny itself was gently reminding her of the greatness hidden in every corner, in every forgotten story.

As they continued on toward the library, the three hats waved a threadbare farewell.

“Come back soon!” Patchface called. “We know all your secrets, you know!”

“We do not!” Stitchwick barked. “That was a joke!”

“Was it?” murmured Tatter, mysteriously.

The warm tones of the Hall of Legacy faded into the hushed coolness of Ilvermorny’s sprawling library. The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted—dusty sunlight filtered through high windows, and enchanted lanterns floated lazily above the reading alcoves. Bookshelves towered like ancient guardians.

Gabby inhaled deeply. “Mmm… old book smell. Best scent in the world.”

“I thought that was cinnamon toast,” Camden muttered.

Gabby grinned. “Second best.”

Katie broke off from the group, her fingers grazing a wooden plaque labeled: ‘Healing & Restorative Magic’

Her heart had been nudging her here initially since the Quidditch accident—then in Magical Botany, when the Firepetal Blooms responded to her presence. Something inside her was awake.

“I’ll just be a minute,” she said softly, disappearing between the shelves.

Meanwhile, Gabby’s curiosity had dragged her into a narrow side corridor. “Oh my gosh—Lucien, come look at this!”

He jogged over, finding her flipping through leather-bound books labeled 'Ilvermorny Yearbooks – Archives'.

“Ohoho yes,” he grinned. “Time to uncover all the awkward hairstyles and bad robes from decades past.”

Gabby cracked open the Class of 1987 and flipped toward the back. “Found it—Elrich Bellamy, seventh year. Wow… he didn’t always look like he wanted to hex someone.”

Lucien leaned over her shoulder. “Look at that. Almost smiling. Weird.”

Then Lucien turned the page—and froze.

“Um. Gabby?”

“What?”

“That girl.”

Gabby followed his gaze. The photo beside Bellamy’s was different—less formal, more candid. It showed two students standing near the Horned Serpent fountain: Bellamy, and a girl beside him, laughing mid-motion. She had long red hair, freckles, and soft blue-green eyes.

Lucien blinked. “Is it just me or—?”

“Katie,” Gabby called. “Come here. Now.”

Katie emerged, a book in hand. “What’s—?”

Her voice stopped. She approached slowly, eyes locked on the page.

Gabby tilted the book toward her. “She looks just like you.”

Katie stared. The resemblance was more than uncanny—it was undeniable. A name was etched beneath the photo in delicate script:

'Elrich Bellamy and Deirdre Canavan'

Katie’s lips parted. “Deirdre…” Her voice trembled. “That’s… that’s her name?”

“You didn’t know?” Lucien asked softly.

Katie shook her head. “They never told me. I’ve seen her face in dreams but…"

Camden had appeared quietly behind them, for once, silent.

Gabby touched Katie’s shoulder. “She was beautiful.”

Katie nodded. “And he… Bellamy. They knew each other. They were close.”

Lucien gave a soft nod. “More than just classmates, I’d guess.”

Katie’s hands trembled slightly as she traced the photo’s edge. For so long, she had only fragments. Now she had a name. A face. A connection to her mother—and a question in the form of Professor Bellamy.

Her voice came out in a whisper. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

No one had an answer.

But Ilvermorny’s library, in its ancient, watchful silence, seemed to understand. Dust motes drifted in the golden light slanting over the yearbook.

Somewhere in the distance, a page turned on its own.

Chapter Text

The trees whispered in languages older than any spellbook. Deep in the woods beyond Ilvermorny's botanical grounds, shafts of golden light pierced the thick canopy, turning motes of dust into floating stars. Birds had long since gone silent.

Gabby stepped over a moss-covered root, holding a small woven satchel that jingled faintly with pods and sprigs. “Okay, I’ve got mandrake husks, two dewberries, and something Nick insists is fairy nettle but smells like cursed cheese.”

Nick gave her a flat look. “It’s fairy nettle. That’s how you know it’s potent.”

Sean, a few paces ahead, crouched beside a rotting log and used his wand to nudge aside bark. “Glow beetles. Grab two, Gabby. Don’t let them touch the nettle again. We don’t need another potion that turns purple and screams.”

Gabby shuddered. “Still having nightmares.”

Behind them, Katie trailed quietly, her fingers brushing along the low-hanging ferns. She wasn’t speaking much—but that wasn’t unusual anymore. Since her ancient magic had fully awakened, her senses often stayed on high alert, especially in places like this.

The forest felt alive today. Not just in the usual way… but like it knew something was coming.

Nick knelt to examine a mushroom patch. “Katie, see if you can find marshgill spores near the creek bend.”

She nodded. “On it.”

Then, just as she took a step—crack.

A sound like splintering bark split the silence behind them.

Sean stiffened. “That wasn’t a branch.”

The glow beetles skittered away.

Gabby looked up. “Everyone stop talking.”

From the shadows behind the mossy ridge, it lunged—eight limbs crashing against the ground like thunder, pincers raised, eyes glittering.

An Acromantula.

Massive. Hungry.

And fast.

It reared up behind Katie.

She didn’t turn around.

Didn’t flinch.

With effortless grace, Katie raised one hand—palm open.

There were no words. No wand. No emotion on her face.

Only instinct.

The air pulsed.

Her magic flared like a silent ripple across a pond—elegant, controlled, final. The Acromantula froze mid-lunge… then crumbled, every thread of it unraveling into fine ash that scattered in the light breeze.

A soft hush fell over the clearing.

Katie lowered her hand and turned calmly to face the remains. “That’s new,” she said. “Didn’t even have to look this time.”

Gabby exhaled. “Okay. I’m impressed. Mildly terrified. But mostly impressed.”

Nick examined the scorched imprint on the forest floor. “That was clean. No blowback, no burst damage. You’re getting better at this.”

Sean stepped toward the remains, eyes narrowing. “It didn’t even register you as a threat. That’s probably why it came straight for you.”

“I can't stand spiders.”

Gabby walked up beside her, peering at the ash. “It didn’t even screech this time. Last time you obliterated something, it at least had the dignity to yelp.”

“Maybe it was quick,” Nick said. “Merciful.”

Gabby sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, I’m out. That’s my monster quota for the day.”

Nick gave her a small smile. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the castle. We're not supposed to go alone anyway.”

“Thanks,” she muttered. “Good luck out here.”

Sean nodded to them both. “We won’t be far behind.”

Katie and Sean continued toward the creek bend in silence. The trees around them grew denser, and the air cooler. As they approached the riverbank, a faint ripple disturbed the otherwise still surface of the water.

Sean spotted it first. “There’s something in the water.”

Then it rose—a long, serpentine shape, glistening with silver-blue scales and luminous eyes.

A Horned Serpent.

It didn’t threaten. It simply emerged, coiled slightly, and fixed its eyes on Katie.

Sean instinctively stepped in front of her, wand raised, but she gently touched his arm. “It’s not here to hurt us.”

She stepped forward.

And then she spoke—soft, rhythmic syllables that curled through the air like smoke.

Parseltongue.

Sean remained still, watching as Katie crouched by the river’s edge. The Horned Serpent responded with grace, dipping its head respectfully. It hissed softly, and Katie listened intently before nodding.

“It says… it will show us,” she said, glancing back at Sean.

“Show us what?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

The serpent turned and began gliding upstream. Katie followed along the bank, and Sean fell in step beside her.

Eventually, they reached a clearing wrapped in quiet magic. A single tree stood at its center—tall, elegant, and haunting. Its bark was textured like coiled vines, dark as ink with faint iridescent green streaks. The air shimmered faintly.

“The Snakewood tree,” Katie breathed.

Sean stared. “Slytherin’s wand… Isolt buried it here.”

Katie stepped forward and placed a hand on the bark. A soft hum pulsed from the tree—recognition.

With a groan, the bark moved to open like a living mosaic of serpents. Inside, wrapped in roots and golden light, was a serpent-shaped relic made of stone and glass. The moment her fingers hovered over it, it pulsed like a heartbeat.

"So," came a voice behind them. "You’ve found it."

William stepped into the glade, solemn and quiet.

Katie turned. “What is it?”

William stood beside her. “Only someone descended from Isolt could open that tree. That relic is a legacy—used to speak to ancient magic.”

Sean stepped forward. “Speak to it?”

William nodded. “Magic that old doesn’t want control. It wants understanding.”

Sean crossed his arms. “Then why seal it away? If it’s so sacred, why did Isolt hide it?”

William’s eyes darkened. “Because understanding that kind of magic means understanding both light and shadow. And some shadows… can’t be left wandering.”

Katie asked, “But why me?”

William looked between them. “Because you’re more than Isolt’s heir. You’re the one she dreamed of. She saw all of this—your magic, the Watchers, even him.”

He gestured to Sean.

Sean blinked. “Me?”

William smiled faintly. “She trusted him to protect you. And she was right. The bond between you two isn’t chance. It was written before either of you understood it.”

Katie swallowed. “Then what is this for?”

William pointed to the relic. “It’s dormant now. Isolt used its last power to seal away something—something ancient and dangerous.”

Katie remembered the dream. Isolt. The sounds. The black fog.

William nodded. “It’s stirring again. That relic is part of the key.”

Katie picked it up. A warm light spread through her palm. It felt alive. Breathing. "I've seen this before."

The tree behind her sealed itself quietly.

Sean took her hand. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

As William turned to leave, Katie called, “What do I do now?”

William paused. “When the time comes—you’ll know.”

Then he was gone.

Chapter Text

The forest was still, unnaturally so, as if the very air around the clearing held its breath after William’s departure. No birds called, no leaves stirred. Only the quiet hum of ancient magic lingered, resonating in Katie’s palm where the serpent-shaped relic pulsed against her skin.

It felt heavier than it looked—denser, like it carried centuries of whispers. She stared down at it: smooth stone wound with iridescent glass veins, carved into the elegant curve of a serpent mid-coil. The glow from its core faded to a low, rhythmic pulse, almost like it had fallen asleep again.

Katie swallowed. “This was buried for generations… waiting.”

Sean stood close beside her, his expression unreadable. He glanced from the relic to the closed bark of the Snakewood tree, now indistinguishable from before—sealed, timeless. “And William just confirmed it. You’re not just a descendant. You’re someone Isolt dreamed of.”

Katie let out a slow, shaky breath. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“You don’t have to yet.” Sean’s voice was low, steady. “You just have to keep going. And I'll be right here beside you.”

She finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

The tension that had built in her chest, from the duel with Dorian to the discovery of her mother’s photograph to the Acromantula’s silent death—it all seemed to shatter under his gaze. His presence wasn’t just reassuring. It grounded her.

“I know,” she said softly. “But it feels like the weight of the whole school—no, of Ilvermorny’s history—is pushing on my back.”

Sean reached out, resting a hand lightly over hers, just above the relic. “Then we carry it together.”

They stood in silence for a long moment, surrounded by a forest that watched, listened, and remembered.

Then, without needing to speak further, they turned and made their way back through the woods.

By the time they crossed the outer threshold of the grounds, the sky had dimmed to a muted indigo. A light snow had begun to fall, casting flurries across the castle spires. Ilvermorny loomed ahead, warm lights glowing from its windows, beckoning them home.

Katie tugged her cloak tighter and adjusted the strap on her satchel, where the relic now lay wrapped in silk and stored inside a pouch lined with runes—an enchanted pocket from Bellamy’s gifted satchel, designed to conceal magical signatures.

As they stepped inside the castle, the comforting hum of familiar wards settled over her shoulders. Warmth seeped into her bones, but the tension didn’t completely leave.

Sean seemed to sense it. “We should tell the others.”

Katie nodded slowly. “Yeah. They deserve to know.”

They found Gabby, Camden, Nick, and Lucien in the common room. The fire was roaring, casting a golden glow across the domed ceiling. Gabby had her feet tucked beneath her on one of the armchairs, flipping through a Charms revision guide. Camden was tossing a stress-sphere from hand to hand. Lucien and Nick shared the couch nearby, both halfway through mugs of tea.

“You’re back,” Gabby said immediately, springing upright. “Okay, please tell me you didn’t get eaten by cursed vines. Because I had a dream last week and—”

“We found something,” Katie said, voice quiet but firm.

All eyes shifted to her. The room seemed to lean in.

Katie stepped closer to the fire and unwrapped the silk inside her satchel. The relic caught the firelight and shimmered.

Lucien sat up straighter. “Okay, that’s not a plant.”

Camden blinked. “Looks like… an artifact. Old.”

Sean joined her side. “It’s more than that. It came from the Snakewood tree. From the place where Isolt Sayre buried Salazar Slytherin’s wand.”

The words sank like stones.

Gabby slowly stood. “Wait. That tree is real? Like really real? I thought that was just a school myth.”

“It’s real,” Katie said. “And it opened for me.”

She laid it all out: the Acromantula ambush, the Horned Serpent guide, the tree, the relic. William’s arrival. His words. The relic's dormant power. The seal Isolt made to contain something ancient and dangerous.

“The shadow creature from my dreams,” Katie finished. “The one I’ve seen in Isolt’s memories. It’s real. And it’s waking.”

Nick leaned forward, his voice steady but tight. “And this relic is… connected to it?”

Katie nodded. “William said it was once used to communicate with ancient magic. Not control it. Just… understand it. But Isolt used its final energy to seal that creature away. It’s dormant now. But it’s part of the key.”

There was a long, heavy pause.

Camden exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. So… worst-case scenario: we’re all about to be part of some ancient prophecy involving shadows, serpents, and a girl who turns monsters to ash with her bare hands.”

Lucien raised a hand. “Follow-up question: do we get matching cloaks?”

Gabby gave him a look but smiled faintly. “You joke, but I’m with Katie. If this thing is stirring, then we all need to prepare.”

Nick stood, his expression unreadable. “And if Ilvermorny doesn’t believe us?”

Sean looked around the circle. “Then we protect it anyway.”

Katie felt her throat tighten. She looked at each of them—her friends, her soulbonded partner, the family she found who truly knew her better than anyone. In this room, there was no doubt. Only belief.

She didn’t feel ready.

But she didn’t feel alone.

Outside the window, the enchanted storm cloud drifted past. For a moment, it rumbled—not a warning, but a whisper. Like it too had seen what was coming. Beyond it, dark shapes moved against the fading light: a small flight of Thestrals, their skeletal wings stretched wide as they drifted silently over the mountain's treetops.

Katie’s breath caught. They were dark and unflinching, carving their way through the sky as if to remind her that even in shadow, there was movement. A path forward.

She watched until the last one vanished into the horizon, and only then did she turn back to the others.

Chapter Text

The day had been long, the sky outside veiled in slate-grey clouds, snow clinging to the corners of the windows like stubborn frost. Inside Ilvermorny, warmth poured from fireplaces and the buzz of magic hummed low through the stones. But something deeper than comfort filled the air.

Katie walked the corridors of the castle slowly, her fingers trailing along the stone as she tried to focus. The relic she had taken from the Snakewood Tree now lay safely hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her trunk. It pulsed with soft warmth whenever she touched it, both reassuring and unnerving her.

Her mind was tangled with questions. About her mother. About her past. About what she might really be.

When she stepped through the archway into the Horned Serpent common room, the lights were out.

She froze, heart thudding—until suddenly, the room erupted with color and magic.

“Happy Birthday!"

Sparks flew into the air like a miniature aurora. A cake hovered midair, held steady by Lucien’s wand. Gabby was beaming in a pink party hat, Camden beside her holding a magically wrapped present that tried to wiggle from his hands. Nicholas offered a quiet smile from the arm of a couch, nodding toward her.

Katie blinked, stunned. “What—how did you—?”

Sean stepped forward, offering a quiet, warm smile. “You never told anyone. I remembered.”

Katie felt her throat tighten, warmth spreading through her chest.

Sean nodded. “You used to say you hated it because it was always snowing.”

Gabby bounded forward, grabbing Katie’s hands and pulling her toward the center of the room. “Now, come on! You’ve got gifts and cake and—and a birthday reading!”

“A what?”

Gabby grinned mischievously, pulling a small, aged deck of tarot cards from her sleeve. “For your birthday,” she said, shuffling. “It’s tradition. Well, okay, it’s my tradition.”

Gabby settled cross-legged on the carpet and shuffled her worn tarot deck with practiced flair. “Okay,” she said with a grin.

 “Three-card birthday reading. Past, present, and future. Ready?”

Katie nodded, half-smiling as Sean sat beside her.

Gabby laid down the first card and turned it over.

The Moon.

“Ooooh,” Lucien murmured nearby.

Gabby tilted her head. “Interesting. The Moon represents the past. Hidden truths, intuition, dreams, illusions... definitely fits. You’ve had a lot of secrets buried under the surface.”

Katie’s smile faded a touch.

Gabby flipped the second card.

The Star.

“Hope,” Gabby said warmly. “Healing. Light in darkness. This is the present—you’re finding your footing. You’ve become someone others look to. Even if you don’t know it.”

Sean glanced sideways at Katie but said nothing.

Then Gabby turned over the final card—and stilled.

Death.

Silence fell for a beat too long.

Sean leaned forward. “That’s… not necessarily bad, right?”

Gabby blinked, then smiled quickly, a little too brightly. “Right. It’s not literal. Death means transformation. Letting go. One chapter ending so a new one can begin.”

Katie stared at the card, her fingers tingling. The image shimmered faintly under her touch—as if it recognized her.

The Reaper.

The image seemed to shimmer faintly beneath her touch.

Lucien broke the tension by pointing toward the gifts. “Okay! Present time. Or I start unwrapping them myself.”

Katie unwrapped a handmade potion belt from Camden, a silky indigo shawl charmed with warming runes from Gabby, and a set of ancient healing scrolls from Nick and Lucien. Sean handed her a small box last—a pressed wildflower encased in crystal, with a note in his handwriting that simply read, “Always rooting for you”.

But it was the final package that left her quiet.

Wrapped in waxed paper and twine, it bore no name. Inside was a bottle of Dreamless Sleep potion brewed to perfection, a healing salve Katie recognized from the infirmary—and a tiny glass vial containing swirling starlight suspended in liquid.

Katie stared at it.

No note.

No signature.

She looked around, but no one claimed it.

Much later, long after everyone had gone to bed and the laughter had faded into memory, she lay in bed and held the vial up to the moonlight. It sparkled faintly.

And she would never forget how it made her feel: seen.

Chapter Text

History of Magic dragged endlessly, each tick of the enchanted wall clock feeling like it took an hour to pass. Katie slouched in her seat, chin propped in her palm, her eyes glazed over as she stared at the back of Professor Ashworth’s head. His slow, deliberate voice carried on about the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards—important, yes, but as dry and crumbly as a day-old biscuit left out in the sun.

Beside her, Gabby had given up entirely on note-taking. The tip of her quill traced lazy loops across the corner of her parchment, shaping them into tiny moons and clusters of swirling stars. Every so often, she would add little sparkle marks, tilting her head as if she were creating a miniature constellation map rather than enduring a lecture.

Katie’s gaze drifted to the high arched windows. Dust motes drifted in thin beams of sunlight, and beyond the glass, autumn leaves swirled past like they were mocking her with their freedom. She sighed, shifting in her seat to keep her eyes from closing.

Gabby leaned in, voice pitched low enough not to carry. “If I die of boredom, tell Lucien he can have my tarot deck.”

Katie bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smile. “Only if you leave the star earrings to me.”

“Done,” Gabby whispered with mock solemnity, as if they were signing an unbreakable magical contract.

A cough from the next row made them straighten quickly, feigning rapt attention while Professor Ashworth droned on about pivotal treaties and historical votes. But the professor’s voice soon blurred again into a low hum, and the remaining minutes stretched into eternity.

When the dismissal bell finally rang, Katie swore she felt her bones creak with relief. Chairs scraped and parchment rustled as the class erupted into motion. She and Gabby didn’t so much walk as bolt for the heavy oak doors, pushing them open to step into the cooler, fresher air of the corridor.

The change in atmosphere was instant—lighter, livelier. The faint chatter of other students drifted up from below, mixing with the scent of polished wood and the distant sweetness of baking from the kitchens. Katie’s shoulders eased as they headed toward the grand staircase.

There, leaning casually against the carved railing like they’d been waiting the whole time, were Sean and Camden. Sean’s hands were tucked in his pockets, his greyscale eyes scanning the crowd before locking on her, the barest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. Camden straightened when he spotted them, his easy smile breaking into something warmer.

Gabby grinned. “Rescue party’s here.”

“Ladies,” Camden greeted with a wink. “Survive another riveting lecture on wizard diplomacy?”

“Barely,” Katie said, shaking her head.

Sean gave her a gentle smile, and his fingers brushed hers briefly before they started walking. “Anything exciting after this?”

Before Katie could answer, Lucien rushed up, slightly out of breath. “Has anyone seen Nick?”

Everyone paused.

“Not since yesterday night,” Gabby said. “Why?”

Lucien frowned, his expression clouded with worry. “I haven’t seen him all day. Not in the dorms, not at breakfast, and he didn’t show up for History either.”

“Maybe he’s in the library,” Sean said. “Or in the potions wing, working late. He’s done that before.”

But Gabby crossed her arms. “Still, it’s not like him to miss meals.”

That evening, Nick still hadn’t shown up at dinner.

The next morning, the group made their way along the cobblestone path toward their first classes, breath puffing in the frigid air. Overnight, a fresh sheet of snow had settled across the grounds, crunching faintly beneath their boots. The sun still hid behind a veil of pale mist, casting the world in a soft, silvery glow.

Gabby tugged her scarf tighter and shivered. “It’s officially too cold for my fashion sense to survive. If I disappear one day, you’ll find me frozen under a pile of very cute, very impractical sweaters.”

Camden smirked. “We’ll be sure to put that on your headstone: Here lies Gabby Huang—died fabulously dressed.”

“That’s the dream,” Gabby said with a dramatic sigh, elbowing him lightly.

Lucien walked a little ahead of them, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze flicking toward the forest more often than the path in front of him.

“You’re quiet,” Gabby said, catching up to him.

Lucien gave a short shrug, but his voice was taut. “I just… he’d have turned up by now.”

Katie slowed slightly, her chest tightening. “We’ll find him. Maybe he just—”

“Nick doesn’t just disappear,” Lucien cut in, sharper than he meant. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to shake it off. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep much.”

They walked on, their boots crunching against the snow. Sean tried to steer the conversation back to lighter ground. “You’re walking like the snow’s plotting against you,” he said to Katie.

She smiled faintly. “I’m just trying not to slip and give you all a morning comedy show.”

“You’re safe,” Lucien muttered, almost absently. “If anyone’s destined to wipe out, it’s me.” He kicked at a frozen clump of snow, sending it skittering down the path.

The group’s small, uneven laughter blended with the muted crunch of their steps. The castle loomed behind them, the forest stretching dark and still ahead—an ordinary winter morning at Ilvermorny, except for the knot in Lucien’s chest that refused to ease.

And then the stillness shattered.

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the mist, slicing into the quiet like a knife. It came from just inside the shadowed edge of the forest, high and raw with terror.

Lucien froze mid-step, his head snapping toward the sound. “Nick.”

The laughter was gone. The cold felt sharper, heavier.

Katie’s stomach dropped.

Without hesitation, they ran. Other students turned to watch, confused and startled. Professor Bellamy, who had been heading toward the main building, sprinted after them.

They reached the tree line quickly. The moment they broke through the first line of trees, Katie’s heart clenched. A group of students had gathered, frozen in horror. And in the center, surrounded by broken branches and ice—lay Nick.

He looked wrong. Too still. His limbs were almost twisted, eyes closed but not in sleep. There was a fine layer of frost covering his body, blood on his collar and a shadow-like residue clinging to his skin like soot. His skin just beginning to grey.

Lucien’s cry tore through the air. “NO!” He dropped to his knees, scrambling to Nick’s side.

Gabby stumbled, sobbing, hands to her mouth.

Katie stood frozen. There was a chill not from the snow but from something older. Something darker.

Professor Bellamy reached Nick first, dropping to his knees so fast the snow scattered beneath him. His gloves were off in an instant, bare fingers trembling as they pressed against Nick’s throat, then over his heart.

For a heartbeat, he stayed like that—bent low, breath held, as though sheer will might coax the pulse back. His other hand came to rest lightly against Nick’s sternum, searching, waiting.

Nothing.

Bellamy’s shoulders sagged. He bowed his head, lips moving, almost as if in a silent, hurried prayer.

When he finally looked up, his face was ashen, the lines around his eyes carved deeper by something heavier than shock. “He’s gone.”

The words didn’t just break the silence—they shattered it.

And then, nothing.

The clearing fell utterly still. No one moved. No one breathed. The forest seemed to listen, heavy with the finality of the moment. Katie felt each heartbeat like a drum in her ears, the sound loud against the muffled quiet.

Lucien’s knees buckled. He collapsed beside Nick, clutching his limp hand with both of his, rocking forward and back. “No, no, no…” The word became a rasp, his voice fraying into rawness. “Nick, please… please…”

Gabby’s sobs broke the air in short, sharp bursts, her hands trembling as they covered her mouth. Camden stood frozen, jaw clenched, his fists tight at his sides.

Katie barely heard them. The cold around her deepened until it felt alive, pressing in from all directions—an old, knowing presence.

She felt it before she understood it: a hum in her chest, low and insistent, matching the steady thrum of her heartbeat. Her magic stirred, restless. It recognized the wrongness. The imbalance.

A tear in the world.

Her hands tingled, gold flickering faintly beneath her skin.

“No,” she whispered, almost to herself.

Sean’s head snapped toward her. “Katie…”

She didn’t answer. Her feet moved before she thought about it, carrying her to Nick’s side.

Sean caught her wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. “Katie, don’t. You don’t know what could happen—you don’t know the cost.”

Tears blurred her vision, hot against the icy air. “He doesn’t deserve this. None of us do.”

“You could hurt yourself,” Sean said, softer now, his voice fraying with fear. “Please…”

Her voice trembled, but the words came with absolute certainty. “I have to try.”

Sean searched her face—looking for hesitation, for something that might let him stop her—but found only the steady fire in her eyes. Slowly, reluctantly, he let her go.

Katie dropped to her knees in the snow. The cold bit into her legs, but she didn’t flinch. She placed her hands over Nick’s heart, fingers splayed.

Her eyes closed. She drew in a breath, slow and deep, until her pulse steadied, syncing with the hum that now filled her whole body.

The glow began as a shimmer between her palms, then swelled—brightening, warming, spilling across her skin until it looked as though she carried the sunrise in her hands.

Light streamed into Nick’s chest in spiraling threads, wrapping him in a cocoon of molten gold. The ground beneath them pulsed in time with her magic, answering her call.

The wind stilled. The air thickened. Even the birds cut off mid-song. The forest leaned in, branches arching overhead like silent witnesses.

Katie felt the magic pour through her—searing and freezing at once, ancient and vast. It tore through her veins like a river in flood, her body barely able to contain it. Her breath grew shallow, her vision narrowing at the edges. A voice, or something like one, whispered in the marrow of her bones: Balance must be kept.

For one suspended moment, the world held its breath.

Then Nick convulsed. A violent jerk, a sharp gasp, then a deep, rattling cough. His chest heaved as if he’d been drowning and only now broke the surface. His eyes snapped open, wild and glassy, locking on hers.

Lucien made a sound that was part sob, part laugh, and threw his arms around Nick, holding him as though afraid he’d vanish if he let go. Gabby fell to her knees beside them, tears streaming as she reached out to touch Nick’s arm, just to feel his warmth.

Bellamy’s mouth moved soundlessly, his expression a mix of disbelief and something bordering on reverence.

The golden light guttered, fading from Katie’s hands. A sharp ache bloomed behind her eyes. Her limbs trembled, and the world tilted dangerously. Sean caught her before she could fall, pulling her into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair, his voice fierce and steady even as his heart pounded against her cheek.

Around them, the forest stirred—not in fear, but in awe, as though every root and branch had felt the moment life returned and bowed to the one who had called it back.

From the gathered students came gasps, whispers, and wide-eyed stares. Some looked at Katie with wonder. Others… with something closer to fear.

Until Professor Bellamy raised his wand.

Chapter Text

The infirmary was still. Dim lamplight flickered against the stone walls, casting long shadows over the cot where Nick lay, his breathing steady.

Katie sat beside him, her hand resting gently over his forearm, still warm from the magic that had pulled him back from the brink—no, from beyond it. The wound on his chest had closed entirely. The bruises had faded.

He had been dead.

And now he wasn’t.

Katie didn’t speak. She simply waited.

Slowly, Nick’s eyes fluttered open. Confusion clouded his gaze, then clarity, then awe.

“I remember… falling,” he rasped. “And everything going dark.”

Katie offered a small, calm smile. “You were gone. I pulled you back.”

Nick blinked at her. “What kind of spell was that?”

“I’m not sure it has a name,” she said honestly.

He tried to sit up, wincing. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was just… instinct.”

Nick looked at her for a long moment, then nodded solemnly. “Thank you, Katie.” He blinked, a tremor rippling through his jaw. “I don’t even know what that means for me.”

A beat of silence passed. Then his brows furrowed.

“I was heading for the greenhouses,” he said slowly. “I’d forgotten my notebook. Before I got there, I heard crying—it sounded like a small kid. I figured maybe a first-year was stuck somewhere. I followed the sound into the trees. That’s when I saw them.”

Katie leaned in slightly. “Them?”

“Watchers.” Nick’s voice dropped. “Three or four, maybe more. They didn’t move like they normally do. They twisted—their forms warped like shadows pulling against moonlight. One of them hissed something in some awful language.”

Katie’s pulse quickened.

Nick coughed. “I thought I was ready this time—but they moved faster. More coordinated. It was like they were hunting me.”

The door creaked open behind them.

Sean stepped in, pale and tense, having heard enough.

Sean’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer to the cot. “They’re becoming more aggressive.”

He turned to Nick. “You said something about a language. Did they speak to you?”

Nick shook his head. “Not directly. I couldn’t make out the words—it was like… shrieking almost.”

Sean glanced at Katie again. “It’s the same sound you described from your nightmare.”

“The shadow creature… may be using them?” It sounded like a statement and a question.

Sean exhaled sharply. “That thing… it’s not waiting anymore.”

Katie stood. “No. It’s coming.”

Nick sat up straighter, his voice quiet. “Then what you did today wasn’t just healing.”

Katie nodded. “It was a warning shot.”

Sean moved closer to her. “You think the Watchers are part of it? Extensions of that thing?”

Katie’s eyes met his. “Maybe. They’re not just watching anymore, Sean.”

Sean was silent for a long moment.

Then, “And if they find you?”

Just as Katie opened her mouth to respond, the infirmary door creaked open once more.

This time, it wasn’t Madam Teagan or another second-year with a headache.

It was Nick’s parents.

His mother stepped in first, her long, dark braid falling over one shoulder, her brown eyes scanning the room until they landed on her son sitting upright in bed. The color drained from her face, replaced quickly by tears. “Nicholas,” she breathed, one hand pressed to her chest. Her voice trembled, but her steps were steady as she crossed the room.

Behind her walked Nick’s father—taller, broad-shouldered, with silver streaks in his black hair and a carved walking stick that tapped gently with each step. He didn’t speak right away, but his eyes held a storm of emotion.

Nick stared in disbelief. “Mom? Dad?”

His mother was already at his bedside, wrapping him in a tight embrace, her arms trembling. “We came as soon as we got the owl,” she whispered. “The school said you were hurt—but seeing you awake, Nicholas…” Her voice cracked. “We thought—”

Nick leaned into her touch, his own hands tentative but grounding. “I’m okay. Really.”

Katie took a quiet step back, giving them space, but Nick’s mother noticed her almost immediately.

She turned to Katie with glistening eyes, studying her for just a heartbeat before closing the space between them.

“Are you Katie?” she asked gently.

Katie nodded.

Without hesitation, Nick’s mother pulled her into a warm embrace, the scent of sweetgrass and cedar lingering faintly from her shawl. “Thank you,” she whispered, fierce and sincere. “You saved my son.”

Katie blinked rapidly. “I just… I couldn’t let him go.”

Nick’s mother pulled back, tears streaming now, and placed a kiss on Katie’s cheek. “You are quite gifted, child. We are so lucky.”

Nick’s father stepped forward then, extending a hand that bore rings with tribal etchings and a steady, grounding presence. “Our family owes you a debt,” he said, voice deep but calm. “Your spirit was strong enough to keep him with us.”

Katie shook his hand, unsure what to say. “I’m honored,” she managed.

Professor Bellamy arrived at the doorway just then, observing the scene with a neutral but unreadable expression. “Mr. and Mrs. Blackwater,” he greeted with a short nod. “Your son is stable, but he’ll need rest. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

Katie stepped aside quietly, her heart full and aching all at once. Before slipping out, she caught Nick’s gaze once more.

He gave her a small nod… and the ghost of a real smile.

Katie stepped out into the corridor with Sean quietly at her side. The heavy door to the infirmary clicked shut behind them, muffling the sound of hushed voices and the gentle tap of Nick’s father’s walking stick on the stone floor.

They walked a few paces before they heard the door open and click shut again. Professor Bellamy stood nearby with his arms folded, his expression cold and unreadable as always. His deep-set eyes studied them both—not unkindly, but with the familiar weight of someone who saw too much and spoke too little.

Katie hesitated, then took a half step closer.

“Professor,” she began, her voice soft but firm. “I just… I wanted to say thank you. For what you did.”

Bellamy arched an eyebrow. “For what I covered up?”

Katie glanced down, her fingers curling into her sleeve. “You didn’t have to Obliviate the others. You could’ve told the Headmistress the truth. Or the Magical Congress agents. But you didn’t. You kept me… safe. So, thank you.”

Bellamy’s gaze sharpened slightly, as if reading more than her words. “I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“I know,” Katie said. “But I still mean it.”

There was a long pause. Then, in a tone lower than usual, he muttered, “You think I don’t understand what it’s like to be different? To seem like only a source of everyone’s fear?”

Katie lifted her head, surprised.

Bellamy gave a short, mirthless breath. “Letting people remember what they saw wouldn’t just put you at risk—it would change how they looked at him, too.” He nodded toward the closed infirmary door. “Nicholas doesn’t need to be treated like a ghost walking.”

Sean stepped forward now, his voice steady. “We’ll protect each other. All of us.”

Bellamy glanced at Sean, then back at Katie. “See that you do. The more this gets out, the more attention it’ll draw—from people we don’t want watching.”

Katie nodded. “Understood.”

“Thanks… Uncle Elrich,” Sean said quietly.

Bellamy’s eyes flicked to Sean, then to Katie. Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, his dark robes sweeping behind him like a shadow too heavy to shake.

Katie exhaled slowly.

Sean laced his fingers with hers. “You alright?”

She looked toward the stained-glass window at the end of the hall, where starlight filtered in through colored panes. “No. But I think I will be.”

Together, they turned and walked down the corridor, the echo of their footsteps fading into the quiet stone walls of Ilvermorny.

Nick’s return to student life after a couple days in the infirmary left an unspoken tension hanging heavy in the halls of Ilvermorny. The news of the watchers and their attack had spread like a forest wildfire in a drought.

Katie walked beside Sean, their shoulders occasionally brushing. Despite the warmth of his presence, Katie’s stomach churned. Her dreams had been restless, flickering with remnants of the energy she’d summoned in the forest. She had felt something ancient when she revived Nick—something that hadn't entirely left her.

Lucien sat next to Nick in every class now, rarely letting him out of his sight. Nick, for his part, was unusually quiet. He would nod or shake his head when spoken to but rarely offered more. Something in his eyes looked distant, as though part of him hadn't come back.

At lunch, the six friends sat together, but the easy rhythm they had once shared was fractured. Gabby tried to keep spirits light, talking about upcoming exams and joking about the professor who always forgot to assign homework. Camden teased her in return, trying to restore some normalcy.

“So, Lucien,” Camden said, nudging him with a grin, “figured you two might need a whole new category of relationship check-ins.”

Lucien managed a small smile. “Not exactly, but... we’re working through it.”

Katie glanced at Nick, who was staring at his untouched plate of food. He looked up briefly and caught her gaze.

But Katie didn’t know what to say.

Sean slipped his hand into hers beneath the table.

Later that night, Katie stood at the Astronomy Tower alone, watching stars flicker across the sky. Sean eventually joined her, saying nothing as he slipped his coat around her shoulders. For a while, they just stood there.

“I’m scared,” Katie admitted.

Sean’s arm tightened around her. “I know.”

The starlight danced over her pale hands. Not long ago, they had pulled someone back from death. Now, she clenched quietly in her borrowed coat sleeves.

Down below, the forest rustled. In the dark beyond Ilvermorny’s walls, something stirred.

And it was watching.

Chapter Text

Katie didn’t sleep.

By the time she crept back into the Horned Serpent dormitory, the stars had long since vanished behind a veil of clouds. She slipped inside quietly, not wanting to wake Gabby, but found her already sitting cross-legged on her bed with her wand glowing softly.

“You okay?” Gabby asked.

Katie hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

Gabby didn’t push. She extinguished her wand and patted the bed beside her. “Come sit.”

Katie did. And for a while, neither said anything. Then, quietly, Gabby whispered, “I felt it… when you brought Nick back. I don’t think it was just you. Something else moved through the mountain.”

Katie swallowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean every magical current in this place reacted. Lights flickered. Wards rippled. Someone said that the school was under attack. It was like the mountain itself shuddered and held its breath.”

Katie’s breath caught. “I didn’t mean to… it's not like it was planned.”

Gabby gave her a sad smile. “I know.”

Katie looked down at her hands. “I’m scared, Gabby.”

“I know,” she said. “But I’m not.”

Katie looked up.

“I’ve seen who you are. And so have the others. Even Nick—he’s not all back yet, but he knows it too. You didn’t just bring him back.”

Katie didn’t answer. She just leaned into her friend and let the silence speak for them both.

The next morning, the castle seemed to wear its grief.

Low clouds clung to the turrets and domes like damp cotton, dimming the light and muting the colors of the stone. The enchanted storm cloud that usually swept the high halls with a bright, humming pace now drifted slow and heavy, trailing faint wisps of mist as if it too carried the weight of the previous day.

Defense Against the Dark Arts felt colder than usual. Even the wall sconces burned low, casting uneasy shadows that swayed with the occasional draft.

Professor Nox stood at the front, her posture sharp, her black robes pooling around her boots like spilled ink.

“Watchers,” she began, pacing before a conjured image of jagged, shifting silhouettes, “were once believed to be dormant entities of the ancient world. All signs suggest a coordinated reawakening.”

The smoke-like figures on the board twitched unnaturally, their heads tilting in insect-like angles. Katie’s stomach clenched. She could still feel the memory of its gaze—like invisible hands peeling at the edges of her mind.

“They do not kill,” Nox continued, “but their presence always precedes something else. Something worse.”

A ripple of unease moved through the class. Quills stilled over parchment. Someone swallowed audibly. Katie’s own hand twitched, her notes forgotten.

Across the room, Sean’s eyes found hers. Steady. Protective. She didn’t look away.

Nox stopped pacing and turned to face them fully.

“Against such things, conventional magic will not suffice. Today, you begin learning a defense that goes beyond simple wards and countercurses—a defense rooted in the oldest protective magic we know.”

She flicked her wand, and the shadowy images dissolved into a wash of silver-white light. Shapes began to take form—ghostly animals, running, leaping, flying—each trailing a faint silver mist.

“The Patronus Charm,” she said. “Most of you familiar know it as a shield against Dementors. It also works against Lethifolds, and—yes—Watchers. All three feed not on flesh, but on fear, memory, and the erosion of will. A Patronus is pure will given form. If your mind is strong enough, it will burn through their influence like sunlight through mist.”

Katie sat straighter, her breath catching. She’d read of the spell in passing—always described as advanced, almost impossible for students to master.

“The incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum’,” Nox continued, her voice crisp, “but words alone will not save you. The magic is fueled by the clearest, strongest memory you possess—one that fills you with genuine, unshakable happiness.”

Katie’s thoughts flickered instinctively toward Sean before she caught herself, shoving the image away and replacing it with the softer memory of Gabby laughing under the autumn leaves their first week at Ilvermorny.

“It will take time,” Nox warned. “Some of you will produce a wisp of light today, if you’re lucky. A full corporeal Patronus is rare, even among experienced witches and wizards. But the first step is always the same—focus your intent, summon the memory, and mean it.”

The class began to stand, spreading out into loose rows. Katie’s wand felt unusually heavy in her hand. The hum of expectation in the room was matched only by the faint static in the air, the same prickling she’d felt when the Watcher’s gaze had locked on her in the forest.

Sean took a place beside her. He didn’t say anything, but his shoulder brushed hers, steadying her in a way that had nothing to do with balance.

“Clear your mind,” Nox instructed, moving between them like a watchful hawk. “Find your memory. Hold it close. When you feel it burn in your chest, call it forth.”

Katie closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. Somewhere in the haze of thought, a memory bloomed—small, quiet, and bright. A warm hand in hers on a winter morning. The sound of his voice promising she wasn’t alone.

The warmth surged in her chest.

“Expecto Patronum!” she called.

A faint silver mist burst from her wand’s tip—thin, fragile, and fleeting. But it shimmered, and for a heartbeat, the cold in the room lessened.

“Good for a first try,” Nox said as she passed, her eyes lingering on Katie for a fraction longer than necessary. “We will continue until you can summon something that drives a Watcher from your path.”

Katie lowered her wand, her pulse still quick. She wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of the Watchers—or of what it might mean if she succeeded.

The bell’s chime rang hollow in the heavy air. Students began gathering their books and parchment, the scrape of chairs loud in the quiet room. But as Katie rose, Nox’s voice cut through the noise.

“Miss Daley. A word.”

Katie hesitated, glancing toward the door where Sean lingered for a moment before stepping out. She followed Nox toward the shadowed back of the room, where a heavy leather-bound book rested on a podium, its clasp unlocked but still holding a quiet sort of authority.

Nox tapped the cover once. The pages fluttered open of their own accord, stopping on a brittle, yellowed sheet.

The title stamped across the top stole the air from Katie’s lungs.

‘The Death Conduit’

Her voice caught. “Professor, I just—”

“The last time I saw that term,” Nox said, her tone low but edged with memory, “I was a second-year apprentice at MACUSA. It appeared once—scrawled in the margin of a forbidden tome that was sealed away before I could even finish reading the page.” Her dark eyes lifted to meet Katie’s. “It refers to a being who can channel the cycle of life and death directly—without rituals. Without runes. Without restraint.”

Katie’s throat felt tight. “I didn’t ask for this,” she whispered, more so to herself than Professor Nox.

“No,” Nox agreed, her voice softening, “you didn’t. But magic doesn't need to ask for permission.” She closed the book gently. “If you ever need something—anything—know that I will be here.”

Katie left with her thoughts knotted in her chest. The corridor outside was brighter, the muffled sunlight from the clouded sky spilling in through the high windows. She let herself fall into the current of students heading toward the Hall of Seasons, but her mind was still in the shadows of that classroom.

Halfway down the hall, her pace slowed. A tall figure in dark, tailored robes stood ahead, speaking in low tones with one of the professors. The polished silver badge pinned to his chest caught the light—its intricate seal unmistakable.

MACUSA.

Katie’s pulse stuttered. The agent didn’t glance at her at first, but the moment she passed, she felt it—eyes following her. Not the sharp suspicion of a predator, but the quiet, unsettling familiarity of someone who already knew your name.

She kept her chin up, eyes fixed on the path ahead. The murmurs of the students around her blurred into white noise.

How long until they pulled her aside again?

How much did they already know?

Her heartbeat quickened. She didn’t stop to find out.

As Katie walked alone past the lower windows that faced the forest edge, she paused. A single white bird—an owl, maybe—was perched on the farthest tree, completely still and holding a small, bright red box.

She narrowed her eyes. The bird didn’t blink. It didn’t breathe.

Katie took a slow step back.

Her mouth went dry. For a breathless moment, she swore the shadows whispered her name.

The bird melted.

It shifted—folded in on itself—until it became something shadowed, hunched, and vaguely human.

A Watcher.

Katie drew her wand, but the figure was already gone, scattering into black mist that vanished into the trees, the little gift box now abandoned in the snow.

She turned and walked down the hallway.

That night, the six friends gathered in the Horned Serpent common room, drawn together as though by an unspoken spell. Outside, the storm clouds pressed against the high windows, muting the moonlight to a dull glow. Inside, the fire crackled and hissed, its warmth spilling over worn armchairs and stacks of half-forgotten books. Shadows swayed lazily across the carved serpent motifs on the walls, breathing with the rise and fall of the flames.

No one spoke of what had happened. They didn’t need to, the proof sat amongst them. The silence between them was not empty—it was shared, deliberate, a quiet agreement to let the night be gentler than the day.

Gabby sat cross-legged behind Katie, fingers deftly weaving strands of auburn hair into a braid. Every so often, she would hum softly under her breath, a tune Katie didn’t recognize but somehow found soothing.

Across from them, Camden read aloud from an absurdly dry spell theory volume, adopting an overblown aristocratic accent that made even the dullest incantation sound like the introduction to a terrible stage play.

Lucien kept poking Nick in the ribs to see if he was “all corporeal again.” Nick flinched the first few times, his mouth twitching in reluctant irritation, but he didn’t retaliate. Instead, his gaze wandered back to the fireplace, its restless glow reflected in his eyes. For once, there was no book in his hands—just the steady, hypnotic pull of the flames.

Sean sat beside Katie on the couch, his arm stretched along the back of the cushions so his hand rested just behind her. His thumb traced slow, absent circles against the fabric of her robe, the motion grounding, steady. Katie didn’t lean away.

The fear was still there.

It clung to them, an invisible thread that had woven itself through the days of events and refused to break.

But here, wrapped in the low murmur of voices, the snap of firewood, and the weight of friends who refused to leave each other’s side—it loosened. Just enough to breathe.

For one night, in the safety of books and warmth and quiet—

—it softened.

Until the next darkness called.

Chapter Text

The scent of parchment and candle wax hung in the air as morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Transfiguration classroom, glinting off polished desks and the occasional gleam of a student’s wand tip. Professor Vale moved gracefully through the room, her deep purple robes swishing with each step.

“Today,” she said, stopping at the front, “we’ll be working on a practical refinement of your levitation and reformation skills. Your task is to transfigure these basic metal spheres into something of functional design—anything with purpose, structure, and symmetry. You will be graded on creativity, control, and magical finesse.”

With a flick of her wand, metallic spheres clinked onto each student’s desk.

“Begin.”

Katie reached for her wand and took a breath. Across the aisle, Gabby was already muttering under her breath, her sphere slowly elongating into something that vaguely resembled a music box.

Two rows ahead, a curly-haired Pukwudgie girl was already working furiously, her silver sphere stretching into the rough shape of a clock face. The edges warped unevenly, the frame tilting like it had been left too close to a fireplace.

Gabby leaned sideways toward Katie. “That thing’s either going to tell time or kill us.”

The girl flicked her wand again. Gears began to form inside—but they jammed together at awkward angles, grinding with an awful metallic shriek.

Katie winced. “Uh… maybe she should—”

The girl gave the clock one last, decisive jab. Ping! BANG!

The clock burst apart in a spray of brass gears and springs. One gear clinked off Katie’s desk; another tangled briefly in Gabby’s braid before bouncing to the floor. Nick didn’t even flinch, though a coil landed squarely on the sleeve of his robe.

Professor Vale flicked her wand, catching the rest of the airborne shrapnel mid-spin and lowering it gently to the ground.

“Miss Abernathy,” she said dryly, “a functioning clock requires more than stubbornness and wishful thinking.”

The girl flushed crimson, mumbling an apology as she began Vanishing the mess. Gabby plucked the stray gear from her braid and held it up between two fingers.

“Souvenir,” she whispered to Katie.

Katie bit back a smile—then her gaze drifted toward Nick.

He sat perfectly still. The silver orb on his desk hadn’t moved.

His wand remained on the table. His fingers drummed softly against the wood, but he wasn’t casting.

Katie watched as he finally reached for the wand. He held it in his hand as if unsure it belonged to him anymore. His jaw tensed. He raised it.

“Motare Forma…”

The words faltered in his throat. Nothing happened.

Across the room, another student managed to shift their sphere into a small, golden compass. Professor Vale offered a brief nod of approval as she passed. Katie glanced back at Nick—his wand hand trembled. He tried again.

Still nothing.

With a quiet curse under his breath, he slammed the wand onto the table, just hard enough for the sound to make Gabby flinch.

“Nick…” Katie said gently, barely above a whisper.

His shoulders tightened, but he didn’t look at her.

“I’m broken,” he muttered. “Maybe not on the outside, but… something’s wrong. The magic doesn’t feel right. Like it doesn’t know me anymore. It’s like trying to speak a language I knew fluently and now the words just... slip.”

Katie hesitated, then slid from her desk to sit in the empty seat beside him.

“You’re not broken,” she said. “You’re… healing.”

Nick scoffed, then whispered, “You don’t heal from death, Katie.”

At first, she didn't say anything, opening her mouth a few times only to shut it without a tangible response.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry.”

That made him finally turn his head. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, were filled with tired uncertainty.

“I was so scared of losing you,” she continued, voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t think about what it would feel like for you when you came back. Maybe that was selfish.”

Nick looked at her for a long moment. Then his gaze dropped to his wand.

“You weren’t selfish,” he said finally. “You were brave. And… maybe I need time to feel like me again.”

Katie offered him a soft, sad smile. “You don’t have to do it alone. Gabby’s here. I’m here. Camden. Sean. And Lucien most of all. We’re all here. You’ve got a lot of people who love you.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.

Professor Vale’s footsteps echoed behind them, but she said nothing as she passed.

Nick picked up his wand again. He stared at the silver orb. Took a breath.

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

A pause. Then the orb trembled. It lifted—not far, just an inch off the desk—but it lifted.

Gabby looked over and grinned. “Look at that, Grumpy! You’ve got hover power.”

Nick huffed out a faint laugh. “Next stop: floating an entire chair. Maybe even Camden.”

Professor Vale clapped her hands once.

“Well done, Mr. Blackwater.”

The bell rang moments later, and students began to file out. Katie lingered by the door, just a second longer, watching as Nick tapped the metal orb, levitating it again.

This time, it rose a little higher.

The storm cloud was behaving oddly again.

It had begun with a rumble—low and pulsing like a heartbeat muffled behind stone. Katie looked up from the parchment she was scribbling on in the common room just in time to see a flicker of violet-blue lightning arc from the hallway.

Gabby, lounging nearby with a stack of glossy fashion catalogues, raised a brow. “Uh... is it angry-cleaning again or just having a magical meltdown?”

Katie stood. “It’s... calling me.”

Gabby blinked. “Like actually calling you, or calling you?”

Katie didn’t answer. Her legs had already started moving.

Out in the hallway, the enchanted storm cloud hovered like a grumpy sentinel just ahead—glowing dimly, trailing mist and crackling with soft static. Students stepped aside, casting wary glances as it floated toward an older corridor no one used anymore. Katie followed, her steps quickening as it passed beneath a half-collapsed archway draped in ivy and forgotten spells.

“Hey!” Gabby caught up, still holding her catalogue, but now frowning with growing concern. “If we get detention, I’m blaming you.”

The storm cloud led them deeper into the castle—past unused classrooms with shattered desks, ancient portraits whose subjects had long abandoned their frames, and through a cobwebbed corridor that sloped downward, as if the foundation of Ilvermorny itself dipped into the heart of the mountain.

“I didn’t know this part existed,” Katie whispered.

Gabby shuddered. “I feel like I’m walking through history’s dusty attic.”

The storm cloud paused before a stone wall at the corridor’s end. It hovered in silence for a moment—then let out a deep, thunderous boom that echoed through the passage. A flash of lightning arced toward the wall—and to their astonishment, the bricks began to rearrange. Like a puzzle unclicking itself, the stone shifted until a narrow arched door appeared, framed in roots that pulsed faintly with silver-green light.

On the lintel above the arch was an engraving in old Irish script.

Katie stepped forward, translating aloud without realizing how she knew:  

“To she who bears the serpent’s will,  

The flame that heals, the storm grown still—  

Step forth, and remember me.”

The door creaked open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit by glowing strands of lichen curling across the ceiling. The air smelled of old parchment, crushed herbs, and woodsmoke. At its center stood a stone pedestal, atop which rested a coiled carving of a serpent encircling a small crystal bowl. On the walls were faded murals—one depicting a red-haired woman facing a monstrous, formless creature of shadows.

Gabby’s voice was quiet. “That’s... Isolt Sayre, isn’t it?”

Katie nodded slowly. “This is hers. A room she left for—” Her voice caught. “For me.”

The storm cloud hovered behind them, then gently skimmed Katie’s shoulder before drifting back into the corridor and vanishing, leaving drops of moisture on her school robe.

Katie stepped toward the pedestal. The moment her hand touched the rim of the crystal bowl, it glowed—filling with swirling memories. A voice, soft and clear like wind over high hills, filled the chamber.

“If you are here, then the shadow has returned. It is not bound to a body, nor to time—but it fears the old magic. Our bloodline’s gift.”

Gabby clutched Katie’s arm. “Katie...”

“To the one who bears my legacy—my heir in truth, not in name—you will not be alone. But you must be the one to face it. The storm that guards these halls knows your heart. Let it lead you again, when the time comes.”

The light in the bowl dimmed. The memory faded.

Katie stood frozen. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lowered them from the rim. “She left this for me,” she whispered. “Because she knew it would come back.”

Gabby gave her arm a squeeze. “Then it’s lucky for the world she left you.”

Katie looked back at the mural—the painted shadow creature writhing as Isolt raised her wand, unafraid. But next to it, subtly added in fading ink, was the outline of another girl—red-haired, younger, not painted in yet.

Waiting.

Katie swallowed. “I think... it’s time I learn what she knew. All of it. Because if it’s coming for me… I want to be ready.”

Chapter Text

“Mr. Blackwell,” Professor Nox stated sharply, catching Dorian mid-whisper with a smug look plastered to his face.

The classroom stopped breathing.

“Would you care to share what was so fascinating that you felt the need to disrupt my class with it?”

“Just telling a joke, Professor,” Dorian said innocently.

Professor Nox slowly began walking toward him. “A joke. During wand movement instruction for counter-hexing.”

“He’s about to get vaporized,” Gabby barely whispered to Camden.

“One hundred percent.”

“Let’s hear it, then. I’m in need of a laugh.” Professor Nox stood, feet planted, in front of his desk.

Dorian was clearly beginning to sweat. “Uh… it was more of an inside joke.”

“Then perhaps you’d like to share it outside?”

The classroom snickered as Dorian's visible pride faltered.

Professor Nox sharply turned away, her wand flicking as she strode toward her podium. “Five points from Wampus for speaking out of turn. And another five for wasting time. Now, as I was saying—”

“Ow—stop it—” Dorian’s quill, now standing on two tiny legs, began smacking him repeatedly on the head.

Katie whispered wide-eyed, “Did she just…?”

“Yep,” Sean continued his notes without missing a beat.

“That’s artistry,” Lucien grinned broadly.

“That’s Professor Nox,” Gabby added.

“Perhaps next time, focus on the lesson. The quill knows what you did.”

Katie returned to the hidden passage under cover of night.

Her footsteps echoed in the sloped stone corridor, the only light coming from her wand tip. The enchanted storm cloud hadn’t reappeared since the day it led her here, but something in her bones—something older than memory—urged her back. As if the room had more to give.

The arched door was still there, waiting.

When she stepped inside, the air shifted. The lichen glowed brighter this time, bathing the room in a ghostly green hue. The murals hadn’t changed, but Katie noticed new details in the stone beneath her feet—faint carvings in spiraling patterns, as though the floor itself was woven with protective enchantments.

She approached the pedestal. The crystal bowl sat quiet now, like a dry well.

Katie took a breath and laid both hands upon it.

Nothing happened at first.

But then... a single whisper bloomed in her ears. Not from the bowl, but from somewhere deeper—beneath the floor, in the roots of the mountain.

“Death and shadow are not the same.”

Katie’s breath caught.

“Shadow feeds on fear. It cannot create, only consume. You were not born to destroy it… but to unmake its hunger.”

A gentle vibration trembled beneath her feet. The roots carved into the floor shimmered faintly, and part of the wall behind the pedestal shifted. A small alcove revealed itself, hidden behind enchanted stone.

Inside it rested a leather-bound book, wrapped in ivy that receded the moment Katie reached for it.

She turned the cover.

'Sayre: The Old Magic'

A handwritten title in emerald ink.

The pages crackled as she turned them. Spells written in ancient script. Drawings of runes that pulsed as her fingers neared. Notes in a looping hand—Isolt’s.

She stopped at a page marked with a dried violet.

“The creature came from what lies beyond time—a rift left open during the Salem turmoil. It has no true body. It will try to take one.”

Katie’s mouth went dry.

“I could not kill it. I drove it into sleep. But sleep ends. One who bears both death and life must face it next.”

Death and life.

Katie touched her pendant—the Celtic knot wrapped with a serpent. Her throat tightened.

From behind her, a soft sound: like fabric brushing stone.

She whirled around, wand raised. Only the silence. But the air still felt… aware.

A figure in the mural had changed.

The younger girl, the one who hadn’t been painted in before, was now partially filled in—her outline sharper, her hair unmistakably auburn. The face was still unfinished, but it was undeniably Katie.

She backed away, pulse racing. Not from fear, but from certainty.

“I’m not ready,” she whispered.

But even as she said it, she knew the truth.

That shadow being would come. And this room—this legacy—was not a coincidence.

It had been waiting for her all along.

Professor Bellamy’s office always smelled faintly of cloves and ink.

Katie hesitated outside the heavy oak door, her knuckles hovering just above the carved wood. Her hand trembled, not from fear—but from the unbearable weight of knowing. The book in her satchel felt like it had a heartbeat.

She knocked.

“Enter.”

His voice, though rough as always, seemed to carry a note of calm she didn’t know she needed until now.

Professor Bellamy sat at his desk beneath shelves lined with ancient potion tomes and specimens preserved in cloudy jars. He looked up, quill pausing mid-scrawl.

“Miss Daley,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly. “You're out past curfew.”

Katie shut the door behind her. “I needed to talk to you, Professor.”

Bellamy studied her face for a long moment. Then, with a small sigh, he set the quill aside and gestured to the worn leather chair across from him.

“Sit.”

She did.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft ticking of the brass clock above his fireplace. Katie’s fingers curled tightly around the edge of her bag.

“I found something,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “Something hidden in the oldest part of the school. A room Isolt Sayre left behind.”

Bellamy stilled. “Go on.”

“There was a bowl... a memory. A message from her. She talked about a creature. Something she fought when she first arrived in America—something she couldn’t destroy.”

Bellamy’s jaw tensed.

“She said it would return. That only her heir—the one who holds both death and life—could face it.” Katie met his eyes, vulnerable but steady. “She meant me.”

Bellamy’s face softened, and for the first time, Katie saw something like grief flicker behind his stern expression.

He leaned back slowly in his chair. Then he murmured, “So, here we are.”

Katie’s breath caught. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” he said. “Not the room or the bowl. But your magic… the storm cloud has been reacting to you specifically… the wards mending to your presence. And—” He hesitated, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “Your mother feared when this would happen.”

Katie’s heart lurched. “Deirdre?”

Professor Bellamy nodded solemnly. “Deirdre and I were best friends from the time we were children. We attended Ilvermorny together, got into all kinds of trouble, and we never stopped—not through her life or career, nor through mine.” He took a long breath, dropping his eyes to his hands folded amongst his lap. “She was amazing. Brilliant. Kind… maybe a little reckless.”

Katie’s voice shook. “And my father?”

Bellamy met her eyes again. “Liam stood strong at her side that night.”

Katie could only stare, her mind so full of questions and shock it was unable to conjure a mere blink.

“When she discovered you were the heir Isolt foresaw, she and your father decided it was best to seal your magic. Not because she feared or doubted you—but because she knew the moment the ancient magic fully manifested, you'd have the eyes of the world on you: human… and anything else with a taste for power.”

The words sank in until Katie’s voice cracked. “They died protecting me?”

“They did,” he said softly. His expression hardened. “There was a branch of MACUSA—official, but they operate mainly in the shadow of Law Enforcement. Officially, it's the ‘Division of Anomalous Magic’. Unless they have a greater knowledge of what's within the walls of Congress, most witches and wizards don’t even recognize the name.”

Katie’s breath caught. “They came for me.”

Bellamy nodded grimly. “One night their agents came to your home. The plan was always to pass you off as a ‘Squib’. With your magic sealed, it was most definitely plausible. But the Division doesn’t take chances, and there had been other witnesses to the little auburn-haired girl with preeminent magic.”

His jaw tightened, voice lowering. “Your mother must’ve sent her Patronus upon their arrival. When I apparated into your kitchen, the air was already thick with smoke and scorched wood. I saw them at the front steps—your mother’s wand burning bright against so many armed wizards, Liam at her side. I brought you to Carrow Manor before returning. But, when I did… it was already over.”

Katie gasped, her fingers curling into the fabric of her robes. In her mind, half-formed fragments stirred—heat, shouting, the metallic scent—and then slipped away before she could hold them.

Bellamy’s voice dropped lower. “Your parents had fallen. Not from weakness. But because they gave everything they had to protect someone that meant more than anything to them.”

Katie’s throat closed, tears blurring her vision. “And I didn't even remember.”

“That’s what they would've wanted,” Bellamy said softly. “I thought you would be safest at Carrow Manor with Sean, Sera, and Charlie. And you were… until the ceremony.”

Katie’s throat closed, hot tears pricking her eyes.

“We planned to keep it small. Deirdre and Liam were very kind, but they kept their circle limited. Besides the Carrows, there were only a few others informed of the time and location. Halfway through the ceremony, Sera had noticed the fast-trickle of strangers that seemed to be gathering to pay respects. A friend of mine quietly alerted me to the intrusion of agents—he was an Auror who sometimes worked closely with the Division.”

Katie dabbed her soaked cheeks with the sleeve of her robe.

“We brought you to the no-maj hospital.”

“And wiped my memory,” Katie whispered, voice ragged.

“The best place to hide you was in the nonmagical world.” He paused. “A ten-year-old girl who had grown up surrounded by magic and had only just lost her parents. Do you think you could've kept the secret of the wizarding world had I not Obliviated you?”

Silence fell between them, heavy and full.

Then Bellamy reached into a drawer and pulled out a small vial of deep violet liquid. He placed it gently on the desk in front of her.

“It’s not a calming draught. It’s a clarity serum. Brewed from Moonlily and Shadevine. It won’t show you answers—but it’ll make your instincts louder. Help you trust yourself when the noise becomes too much.”

Katie stared at the vial, her throat still tight. “Why are you giving me this?”

“Because I believe you’ll need it soon.” Bellamy leaned forward, eyes falling on the serpent's knot pendant around her neck. “And because Deirdre would’ve wanted me to remind you: you are not just Isolt's heir, Katie. You are her daughter. And that means you were never meant to face anything alone.”

Katie blinked rapidly, brushing away another tear. “Thank you.”

Bellamy nodded. Then, just as she reached the door, he added quietly:

“Come back if the shadows start whispering louder than the truth. It’s what they’d want—and what I promised her I’d do.”

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered through the silver-barked willows, their leaves shimmering as if whispering to one another. The air was warm and full of summer hum—bees drifting lazily from flower to flower, the scent of jasmine mingling with the sweetness of ripening berries in the garden beds.

The patio table was scattered with half-empty glasses of mint tea and a small plate of shortbread Sera had brought. Rick leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled, smirking faintly at something Lee had just said. Lee’s light brown hair caught the sun in soft gold streaks, and a faint crease deepened beside his eyes when he grinned. Deirdre—barefoot, as always in summer—was laughing under her breath, her long auburn hair twisting gently in the breeze. A pendant shaped like a coiled serpent rested against her collarbone, its emerald scales glinting when the light caught it just right. Charlie’s low chuckle rumbled from the far side of the table; the sunlight brought out the pale silver in the short hair at his temples, though his eyes, cool grey like Sean’s, followed the children in the garden more than the conversation. Sera, tall and graceful with that same platinum-blonde hair Sean had, reached for a slice of shortbread and shook her head with an affectionate smile.

From somewhere behind a hedge came the light patter of footsteps, then a giggle. Katie, four years old, appeared first, a crown of dandelions askew on her head. She clutched something in both hands, curls bouncing with each step.

Sean, one year older and full of mock outrage, charged after her. “Katie! You can’t run off with the treasure!”

“It’s not treasure—it’s for the fairy by the pond!” she shot back, opening her hands just enough for him to see a pebble and a folded flower petal.

“They’ve been at this all morning,” Sera said, brushing a pale strand of hair from her face.

“Better than dueling with sticks,” Rick remarked dryly.

Lee sipped his tea. “They did that yesterday.”

By the pond, the children knelt in the grass, voices dropping into serious whispers as they arranged their “offering” on a flat rock. Katie’s small fingers brushed against Sean’s as they set the pebble and petal in place, and for a moment their giggles stilled into a comfortable quiet. A soft dragonfly skimmed past, its wings catching light in flashes of emerald and gold.

Sean leaned in and said something too low for the adults to hear, and Katie smiled—wide, genuine, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Then, without warning, Sean grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the shade of a nearby willow. She yelped in surprise but followed, their laughter trailing behind them like ribbons in the breeze.

Katie slowed mid-step, her attention caught by a faint, distressed fluttering in the tall grass. She moved toward it without a word, Sean following close behind.

A slender garden snake lay coiled there, jaws closing around the wing of a struggling sparrow. Katie crouched low, her expression calm—almost knowing. A soft, sibilant language spilled from her lips, smooth as running water.

“Be gentle with hurt birds. Find something else today.”

Sean’s eyes went wide. “Katie… what was that?”

The snake’s head lifted, unblinking. Then, slowly, it released the sparrow. The bird vanished into the brush in a frantic flutter. With a flick of its tongue, the snake slid away beneath the shade.

From the patio, Deirdre had gone still. As she stepped closer, Rick just behind her, the sunlight caught on the serpent pendant at her throat. For a fleeting moment, the emerald eyes of the necklace seemed to shimmer more brightly—as if stirred by some long-forgotten magic.

Rick’s brow arched, his gaze flicking to Deirdre in quiet surprise—not at the sound itself, but at the fact it came from her daughter. He’d known she spoke Parseltongue since they were kids, back when her hair was just as vividly auburn as it was now. This was the first time he realized Katie had inherited it.

“That was Parseltongue, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice low.

“I just told it to be nice to the bird,” Katie said.

Deirdre crouched beside her. The serpent pendant shifted with the movement, its green eyes catching the light again. “Snakes aren’t cruel for eating, sweetheart. They eat because they must. And the sparrow would eat worms, which eat plants… the balance of life is always moving.”

Sean frowned a little. “So the snake wasn’t being bad?”

“No,” Deirdre said, looking at them both. “Just as there are animals that eat snakes, and others that eat those animals. It’s a circle.”

Rick added, “And sometimes it’s all right to give something a second chance. But never forget the nature of things.”

Katie nodded slowly. Sean mirrored her, still glancing toward where the snake had vanished.

They drifted back toward the willow, the earlier game forgotten, but their steps light again.

“Those two,” Deirdre murmured, her eyes lingering a moment longer before turning back to the table.

Rick’s mouth curved faintly. “They have the kind of bond you don’t see often.”

Charlie’s reply was certain. “They always will.”

The conversation at the table resumed, the warm ease of the afternoon settling back in. Out in the garden, Katie and Sean kept playing, small figures in a wide, magical world—years away from understanding how much this moment would matter.

Katie waited in the Horned Serpent common room just before breakfast, nerves coiling in her chest like vines. She hadn’t slept much; her thoughts kept spiraling around everything she’d seen—Isolt’s message, the book, the mural shifting to include her, the whispered words lingering amongst the early mountain air,... but those were all haunted by Professor Bellamy's recollection of Deirdre and Liam.

She shivered as Sean entered quietly, brushing something from his cloak. His platinum-blonde hair was slightly tousled, and his tie hung loosely around his collar. He looked tired, but his eyes lit the moment they fell on her. The bond thrummed faintly, warm in her chest.

“I need to talk to you,” Katie said, standing slowly. Her voice was already tight.

Sean immediately straightened, concern tightening his features. The bond sharpened between them, pulling at him. “What is it?”

She glanced around the room, still mostly empty in the early hour, and stepped closer.

Sean’s grey eyes darkened, his brow furrowed. “Katie—are you alright?”

She nodded shakily, though the truth weighed heavy. “Not hurt. I found a room… it belonged to Isolt Sayre. She left a bunch of things. A book, ‘Sayre: The Old Magic’. She recorded everything. And Sean—” Her throat tightened.

Sean went still. The bond stirred with unease.

“She left warnings about a creature she once fought. A shadow beast—something that came through a rift in the world. She said she couldn't destroy it, only put it to sleep. And that her heir would need to face it… again.” Katie’s breath trembled. “She meant me.”

Sean drew in a slow breath. The bond ached with the weight of her words. “The same thing from your dreams.”

Katie swallowed hard. “Yes. And your Uncle… he knew. He told me my mother sealed my magic to protect me.” Her voice cracked, raw with grief. “My parents died because agents came for me.”

“What agents?” Sean’s voice sharpened slightly.

“MACUSA. Or… not really MACUSA. A more hidden branch—the ‘Division of Anomalous Magic’. They wanted to take me due to the accounts of what happened in the no-maj village.” She blinked back tears. “My parents stood in their way. And they paid for it.”

Sean’s jaw clenched, his emotions flooding through the bond so fiercely that Katie almost gasped. Anger. Grief. Defiance. “Then they’re not protectors of magic,” he said tightly. “They’re predators.”

Katie’s throat closed. “He said they died protecting me, Sean. And I couldn't even remember them.”

Sean moved without hesitation, closing the space between them. He reached for her hand, his fingers threading through hers, the bond emitting a strong and steady murmur. 

“No. Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself.” His voice was firm, every word wrapped in conviction. “Your mother and father didn’t die because of your magic. They died because they loved you—because they chose you. That was their decision, Katie. Their gift.”

The truth of it all pulsed through them, warm and unwavering. Katie’s eyes stung, her chest tightening as if his certainty was holding her together.

Sean continued, lowering his voice, his grip unyielding, “they’ll have to go through me first. Through all of us.”

Her heart thudded, fear and gratitude tangling together. She squeezed his hand back, her pulse echoing his through their connection. Despite the dread pressing down on her chest, Sean’s presence steadied her, pulling her back from the edge.

For a moment, they stayed like that, silent but bound together, the bond thrumming softly between them. Katie drew in a breath, steadier now, though her heart was still raw.

Camden burst into the Hall of Seasons, waving a half-crumpled letter like a victory banner. “Okay! Story time.”

Lucien looked up from his sandwich with a suspicious squint. “Let me guess—your cousin got arrested again for turning a sheep into a goblet?”

“Nope,” Camden said, grinning wide. “My uncle had to visit the British Ministry last week.”

“He had to flush himself into the visitor entrance. And being the dramatic king he is, he sent me a roll of toilet paper by owl. Labeled it his 'official Ministry souvenir.’”

Gabby choked on her juice. “Oh my God.”

Lucien cackled. “Was it unused, or are you cursed now?”

“Unused. But he wrote messages on it. In ink. Apparently, British Ministry toilet paper doubles as high-grade parchment.”

Katie laughed, genuinely, her shoulders easing for the first time in hours. The heaviness in her chest didn’t vanish, but for the first time since last night, it loosened.

Nick, sitting beside her, smirked faintly. “That’s disgusting.” His voice was quiet, but the sound of it was like sunlight through mist.

Katie turned slightly, smiling at him. Nick wasn’t entirely back, but the cloud was beginning to lift.

When the clocktower rang, everyone began to stand and gather themselves for their afternoon classes. Before parting ways outside of the Hall of Seasons, Sean caught Latie's wrist and pulled them from the flow of student traffic.

He didn't say a word, only smiled coolly as he applied light pressure to her hands with his own. After a long moment, he kissed her forehead and gestured to the direction of their friends.

“Lovey-dovey stuff on your own time, Carrow!” Camden loudly jested as Katie and Gabby began walking the corridor in the opposite direction to their Magical Creatures class.

Upon arrival, it was announced class would be moving to the southern part of school grounds. As they walked, there was a crisp breeze that fluttered through the tall trees lining the perimeter.

Professor Wynn dropped his backpack to the ground and stood tall beside a bronze-reinforced enclosure. A floating scroll from his bag slipped out and began to hover beside him, displaying notes in glowing green ink.

“Today,” he announced, “we observe the Pyrosphinx. This one is a juvenile, but don’t let the size fool you. When grown, they can reach the size of a carriage and emit flames hot enough to liquefy metal.”

Katie stepped closer with Gabby and Camden, watching the creature stretch its long, catlike body. Its golden scales shimmered like firelight, and every breath it took sent small sparks into the air.

They worked in small groups, assisting with feeding, replacing enchanted heat stones, and applying flame-repellent charms to the perimeter.

The Pyrosphinx watched them with slow, blinking eyes, almost regal in its repose.

Katie helped restock fire-root snacks near the enclosure’s edge while Camden calibrated a heat regulator.

“I think it likes you,” Gabby whispered as the creature let out a low, musical purr.

When the session neared its end, most students had already started heading back toward the castle, chatting and laughing.

Katie, Gabby, and Camden stayed to finish cleanup.

Then—

“Do you hear that?” Gabby asked, her smile vanishing.

Katie shook her head. “What?”

A low, unnatural hum—like a pressure leak—cut through the air.

Camden spun. “The latch—it’s glowing.”

Before anyone could respond, a burst of heat exploded outward.

“MOVE!” Camden shouted, shoving Gabby back.

The Pyrosphinx leapt from its enclosure in a blazing arc of gold and orange, its tail igniting the grass with every whip of motion. Flames surged outward, catching onto the wooden posts and the nearby pens.

Students screamed and scrambled. The air turned scorching in seconds.

“Professor Wynn!!” Katie shouted, already casting. “Aguamenti!”

A jet of water shot from her wand, dousing part of the fire.

Gabby added her voice to the fray, and Camden sprinted to redirect fleeing creatures to safety.

Professor Wynn arrived moments later, voice booming as he called advanced containment spells, slamming magical barriers into place. The Pyrosphinx reared back but was finally forced into submission by Wynn’s final incantation and a reinforced charm circle.

Silence fell.

Ash still drifted in the air like snowfall.

Five creatures were gone—scorched and unrecognizable. Two Ashwing foals, a Mooncalf, a Burrowbeast, and a feathered Cinderrat—all lost in moments.

They buried the fallen near the forest edge, beneath the willow trees.

The air hung heavy there, hushed and unmoving, the usual birdsong absent. Frost clung to the grass in uneven patches, slowly melting under a weak afternoon sun. Every sound seemed too loud—the crunch of boots, the faint sniffle from someone behind her, the soft thud of dirt hitting wood.

Katie knelt at the final mound, her hand trembling. Gabby remained beside her, silent and reverent.

The words her mother had spoken long ago drifted unbidden into her mind—Snakes aren’t cruel for eating… the balance of life is always moving. The lesson that life and death were bound in a circle settled over her like a familiar cloak.

With a breath and a whisper, Katie raised her wand.

Flowers bloomed.

Lavender. Pansies. Wild violets. Soft white stars of baby’s breath. The graves became beds of color, a garden forged from mourning.

Somewhere beneath her cloak, the serpent necklace warmed faintly against her skin, its emerald eyes glinting in the dappled light—just as it had in the garden years ago.

Life where death had settled.

That evening, the Horned Serpent common room glowed with soft firelight. The storm cloud drifted lazily near the rafters, glowing faintly blue. The warmth of laughter filled the room.

Katie sat curled into Sean’s embrace, a steady presence she didn’t have to ask for.

Gabby was reenacting Camden’s story with wild gesturing, wondering if sinks or urinals could also be options. Camden groaned in protest. Lucien offered commentary in a mock-British accent. Even Nick chuckled softly, eyes a little brighter.

But Katie had drifted.

Her thoughts were elsewhere—still caught in the silence beneath the willow trees and gravesites, in the heartbeat that had returned to Nick, in the whisper from Isolt’s small Pensieve.

“To the one who bears both death and life…”

She’d known it meant her.

But now, she felt it.

She remembered Gabby’s tarot reading on her birthday. The Reaper card. Its black-cloaked figure holding a banner. Gabby had spoken gently then:

“Not an ending. A transformation. Death and rebirth. It’s not about destruction. It’s about becoming.”

It wasn’t just prophecy anymore. It was truth.

Katie’s magic hadn’t simply returned—it had revealed itself. It didn’t respond to logic or discipline. It answered only to instinct. To pain. To love. To loss.

It was ancient. Elemental.

She looked around at her friends—Gabby, Camden, Lucien, Nick. All of them fragile and alive. And her, the strange heartbeat between two realms.

She was the Reaper card.

She took life, and gave it.

And the shadow, whatever form it took—would soon meet the truth it thought it could devour.

She was the end…

…and the beginning.

Chapter Text

The sun had barely risen when Katie jolted awake, her pulse hammering as if she'd been running through a nightmare. She sat up in the shadows of the Horned Serpent dormitory, the faint blue glow of dawn brushing the edges of her bed curtains. Her heart wouldn’t calm. It felt like something had reached across her dreams and shaken her awake from the inside.

She dressed quickly, hands trembling only slightly as she fastened her cloak, and slipped into the corridor.

Sean was already waiting for her outside the common room. He didn’t speak—just studied her face, then nodded. He had felt it too.

They moved quietly through the early morning halls, the castle still hushed with sleep. The library atrium was deserted, its enchanted glass dome casting fractured beams of pale gold across the floor as sunlight filtered in from beyond the mountains.

“I can feel it,” Katie whispered, voice barely audible against the silence.

Sean’s eyes flicked to hers. “You’re not the only one.”

A moment later, footsteps approached. Nick stepped into the atrium, his eyes bloodshot but clear. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.

“I had a dream,” he said simply. “Or... maybe it wasn’t a dream. I was back in that space. The one between.”

Katie’s breath caught. “Where you were... before you came back?”

Nick nodded. “There’s something clawing through it now. Like a ripple... no, a wound. It's pushing from the other side. And it’s getting louder.”

Sean’s expression darkened. “Did you hear anything?”

Nick hesitated. “A voice. Not in words. It was more like... hunger. Searching. It didn’t see me—but it sensed something. Like it was sniffing for a door.”

Katie felt it then. That whisper beneath her skin, the one that didn’t speak in words but in gravity. A pull. A warning.

Before she could respond, the floor beneath them thrummed—so softly it might have been imagined. All three of them stiffened.

Then a scream shattered the quiet.

They ran.

Near the eastern slope of Ilvermorny’s grounds, the grass smoldered. Students had been herded back, clustered near the edge of the sloped field. Professor Nox stood tall at the center of the clearing, a dome of protective magic pulsing faintly around a twisted scorch mark in the earth.

Smoke curled into the wind. A few shrubs still hissed with steam.

At the edge of a protective dome lay a creature—withered and wrong. When Katie circled it to find its face with Sean and Professor Nox, she saw its body looked as if it had been sculpted by hands that didn’t understand life. Too many joints. Hollow eyes. Translucent skin threaded with veins of shadow. Its limbs seemed both melted and stretched, a grotesque mockery of biology.

“It didn’t come from here,” Professor Nox said quietly. “It slipped through.”

Katie stepped closer, pulse roaring in her ears. She didn’t feel fear.

She felt recognition.

It wasn’t familiar in the way of memories. It was deeper. Like something buried in her bones had stirred awake.

She walked toward it. Sean moved to stop her—but paused.

Katie didn’t hesitate. She knelt beside the creature. Professor Nox followed beside her.

“It’s not just shadow,” she murmured. “It’s made of something in-between. Like it wasn’t born. It was conjured... or summoned.”

Katie reached out, her hand inches from the creature’s warped body.

“Don't—” Professor Nox went to stop Katie's hand.

It hissed.

It wasn’t dead.

The space around her seemed to bend slightly, as if the air itself remembered something older than magic. The whisper inside her unfurled—not in language, but in purpose.

A command.

Not spoken. Felt.

Her magic surged.

She didn’t raise her wand.

She didn’t need to.

The creature unraveled before her—a silent implosion. The solid parts of it's body dissolved within into long, black threads within a dark translucent body that curled. There was no scream. No flare of pain.

Only release.

The clearing went still as the creature slumped into nonmovement. Wind rustled through the trees again, like nature had been holding its breath.

Professor Nox stood, unable to completely hide the shock on her face. She quickly glanced around, finding the few students and onlookers’ visual had been blocked by the creature itself. “Nobody seems to have caught this.”

Katie stood slowly, her fingers still glowing faintly. She looked down. The scorched grass beneath her feet was softening, pulsing gently with new shoots of green.

Sean joined her side. “You didn’t kill it.”

Katie didn’t look at him. “I unmade it.”

Back within the castle walls, the cleanup had begun. The field was sealed off, and murmurs echoed down every corridor.

Katie walked the stone passage slowly, her skin still tingling from the magic she had channeled. Sean and Nick had gone ahead, giving her space.

As she turned a corner near the administrative wing, she halted.

Two figures stood just ahead in pressed dark robes—one a woman with cropped gray hair, the other a tall man with runes stitched along the collar of his coat. Both wore badges glinting gold and deep blue: MACUSA field agents.

They weren’t speaking. Just watching a portrait shift nervously on the wall. The atmosphere around them was sharp, tense.

Katie’s heart thudded once, hard.

They hadn’t stopped her. Hadn’t even looked her way.

But they didn’t need to.

She could feel it in the air—the weight of being observed, measured, considered.

Her pace didn’t slow, but her thoughts did.

How long before they stopped watching and started asking questions again?

How long before someone put these large pieces together?

She passed without a word.

That night, long after the rest of Ilvermorny had gone quiet, Katie stood before the sealed wall at the end of the hidden passage.

The storm cloud had followed her again, drifting at her side like a guardian.

The hidden room welcomed her with the low hum of ancient enchantment. The moment she stepped inside, the lichen strands brightened, casting the murals in ghostly green light.

She crossed the floor and placed her hands on the crystal bowl.

A new vision surged to life.

This time, it wasn’t Isolt.

It was Salazar.

He stood atop a jagged bluff beneath a sky torn wide with darkness. His eyes were sharp, wild, filled with fury. The ground cracked as he struck his wand into it, conjuring a ward so vast it trembled the earth itself. Behind him, a shape moved—massive, formless, hunger itself.

He screamed an incantation into the wind.

The darkness was pushed back—but not destroyed. Bound. Caged.

The vision faded.

Katie gasped, breath fogging as she stepped away from the bowl. Her knees trembled.

The mural on the far wall had shifted again.

Her painted likeness was nearly complete—red hair vivid, her form cloaked in swirling grey and violet. Her hand was outstretched, and vines of glowing script spiraled from her fingers.

But her eyes remained empty.

She turned—then froze.

The serpent statue blinked.

In a hiss barely louder than the wind, it spoke in Parseltongue:

“The balance is yours to break or restore. Will you be its end… or its mirror?”

Katie stared at it, the words uncoiling in her own mouth before she realized she was speaking.

“I won’t mirror it. I’ll end it.”

The serpent lowered its head, as if in recognition.

Chapter Text

Rain struck the windows like falling shards of glass. The castle groaned beneath the weight of late winter, its ancient stones damp and cold. Icicles clung to the arches, and the enchanted storm cloud that normally drifted through the halls was nowhere in sight. Outside, freezing rain battered the world into a blur of grey, as if the mountain itself was grieving.

Katie woke to the sound of wind howling against the tower walls and the low, steady hum of magic.

She sat up slowly, heart thudding in her ears. The curtains around her bed were drawn, but through the small gap near the bottom, she could see an eerie flicker—light that wasn’t candlelit or electric.

“Katie?” Gabby’s voice was soft and uncertain. “What’s that in your trunk?”

Katie blinked, fully awake now. She tossed her covers aside and padded across the chilled floorboards to her trunk. A pulsing glow was leaking from the seams, spilling onto the old wooden floors like soft firelight.

She knelt and flipped the latch open. A few neatly folded robes and notebooks tumbled aside as she dug to the bottom—until her fingers brushed the cold, coiled form of the serpent relic.

It was glowing.

The crystal and stone shimmered with an unnatural brightness—not golden or blue, but something in-between. Something ancient. Something alive.

Gabby leaned over from her bed, brows furrowed. “I thought you said it was inactive.”

Katie’s fingers curled around the relic. The light didn’t burn. It welcomed her.

A chill danced down her spine.

“It’s time,” she whispered to herself.

The Hall of Seasons was quieter than usual. Rain lashed the tall windows like a fury let loose. Condensation fogged the panes, and the enchanted ceiling mirrored the grey, roiling clouds above. Most students huddled in the central section of the long tables, as far from the cold edges as possible.

Katie slid into her usual seat beside Sean. He greeted her with a glance, reaching beneath the table to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. One by one, the others arrived—Camden with his hood still up, Lucien shaking water from his cloak, Gabby tugging her sleeves down past her hands, and Nick moving slowly, eyes shadowed.

“I overheard someone say they shut down the southern greenhouse trail,” Camden muttered.

“Probably frozen solid,” Lucien offered, though without his usual flair.

Sean shook his head. “No. It’s because of what happened yesterday.”

Gabby looked at Katie. “The thing you killed?”

Sean leaned in, lowering his voice. “I heard Professors Nox and Bellamy talking in the hall this morning. They confirmed it wasn’t from our world. They said it didn’t come through any spell. It came through a breach. Something older. Something raw.”

“It wasn’t alive,” Katie murmured.

Nick finally looked up. His voice was quiet, but resolute. “It was in-between. I felt something like it again last night… in my dreams. Only this time, it saw me. Not all of me—but enough. Like it was testing the veil.”

Gabby wrapped her arms around herself. “This feels wrong. Like the air’s thicker. Like something’s lurking just beneath it.”

Camden nodded. “And did anyone notice the aurors?”

Katie turned slightly.

At least a dozen Aurors in dark coats stood along the perimeter of the Hall of Seasons. Some pretended to chat idly near the staff dais. Others lingered along the walls, their eyes always moving. One of them locked eyes with Katie for just a second too long before looking away.

“They’re pretending we won’t notice,” Lucien muttered.

“They’re not here just to keep us safe,” Sean said under his breath.

Gabby’s eyes darted to Katie. “Then we’d better figure out what they’re going to find. Before they decide the threat is you.”

Katie didn’t blink. “They already suspect.”

The group crossed the courtyard en route to class, stepping around icy puddles and muddy slush. The rain had turned to freezing sleet. Aurors and MACUSA agents dotted the grounds, many of them gathered near the southern slope where the creature had been unmade.

“They’re not going to find anything,” Sean muttered. “Not if they keep digging in the wrong places.”

At the end of Transfiguration, Professor Vale’s voice broke through the post-lesson shuffle.

“Miss Daley, a word, please.”

Katie paused, exchanging a glance with Sean before he exited with the others.

Vale closed the door gently once the room had emptied. She stood near the window, arms crossed, gazing out into the storm.

“You’ve been through something unnatural,” Vale said, turning back. “And yet, you walk as if nothing’s changed.”

Katie kept her voice steady. “I feel normal. Or… what’s normal for me.”

The professor studied her for a long moment. “Isolt Sayre was a protector,” she said slowly. “Not just of this school, but of people. Witches, wizards, and No-Majs alike. She gave them a place. A future.”

Katie said nothing.

Vale continued, “But even protectors need protection. Isolt had James. Her daughters and sons. She had her students, and the creatures of this mountain. She wasn’t alone.”

Her gaze drifted to the door creaking—where Sean now stood waiting.

“You’re not alone either.”

The words hit like warmth in a storm.

“I believe in you, Miss Daley,” Vale added, more gently now. “But burdens don't always need to be buried with silence.”

Katie nodded slowly. “Thank you, Professor.”

As they walked toward lunch, Katie and Sean took the long way through the east wing corridor.

That’s when Sean paused. “Do you see that? Around the corner—was that William?”

Katie’s eyes widened slightly, breaking into a brisk walk, rounding the corner—to find nothing but an empty hall.

Sean caught up behind her. “He couldn’t have gone far.”

Then Katie noticed it: a trail of small, dark droplets leading to the side door.

“Blood,” she whispered.

They followed the crimson trail through the back exit, out into the courtyard and down the slushy, ice-slick slope behind the stables. The cold humidity and wind sliced through their robes. The trees stood like skeletal sentries.

At the tree line, huddled beneath the low branches, they found him.

William the Pukwudgie lay crumpled on the frozen ground, a smear of red staining the snow beneath him.

“William!” Katie dropped to her knees beside him.

He blinked up at her weakly. “Took you long enough.”

Katie pressed her hand to his side, then her wand to the torn fabric poorly concealing the laceration on his chest, whispering healing charms. Her eyes burned with focus.

Sean knelt beside her, watching warily.

“You should have stayed hidden,” Katie whispered.

“Didn’t have a choice,” William rasped. “It’s waking, girl. The thing you demolished was only a scout, summoned by the shadow.”

Katie’s breath caught.

“I saw the relic glow,” William continued, pointing shakily toward the lump beneath her cloak. “It knows. And so do you.”

The serpent relic throbbed with light, warm against her chest.

“Where is it?” Katie asked.

William’s eyes glinted with something between fear and reverence.

“Just down the mountain,” he whispered. “Waiting for you.”

Chapter Text

Katie knelt beside William a moment longer, her palm pressed gently to his shoulder. His wounds were mostly healed now, though his eyes still shimmered with pain and something deeper—resignation. The Pukwudgie gave her a tired nod.

Then she rose.

Without a word, she turned from the forest’s edge and stepped into the storm. The descent down Mount Greylock had begun.

“Katie, wait.” Sean’s voice chased after her, his boots crunching through frostbitten leaves. He caught up quickly, breath forming clouds in the frigid air. “We should get help. Vale, Nox, Bellamy—they need to know. We’re not ready.”

Katie’s eyes didn’t waver. “There’s no time. And if they come, they’ll die. This was meant for me.”

Sean stepped in front of her, gaze fierce. “I’m coming with you.”

She blinked against the sleet, her voice cracking. “Sean, no. I can’t risk losing you. Not again.”

He cupped her face, brushing a frozen strand of hair away from her cheek. “You don’t get to make that choice for me. If you go, I go.”

Katie opened her mouth to argue again—but stopped. Her heart was pounding, not with fear, but with the unbearable ache of what she might lose. She stepped into Sean’s arms without warning, burying her face against his chest.

“I don’t know what’s waiting down there,” she whispered, “but it knows me. I can feel it. I’m scared, Sean.”

Sean tightened his hold on her. “I’m scared too,” he admitted. “But not of the thing in the dark. I’m scared of living in a world without you.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes—those ever-shifting greyscale eyes—held nothing but honesty and fierce love.

“I’d rather die beside you,” he said softly, “than survive without you and wonder if you were calling my name with your last breath.”

"You’ll face it again, but not alone."

Her lips trembled, then she kissed him—fiercely, desperately, as if trying to pour every ounce of her soul into that moment. When they parted, she leaned her forehead against his.

“Then stay close,” she said. “No matter what we face.”

He nodded. “Always.”

For a moment, her resolve fractured. Then she nodded. “Then don’t fall behind.”

Together, they descended into a world that no longer remembered what it was.

The forest was no longer the forest.

It bent and warped around them like a memory unraveling. Trees stretched like skeletal arms, bark slick with blackened sap. Ash clung to the leaves like old snow. Time bled at the edges—minutes stretched or blinked past without pattern. The moon had risen before dusk, hanging swollen and still in the sky, casting no warmth.

The air crackled as though the mountain was holding its breath.

The quiet was a deception.

The first attack came fast—a hunched figure, featureless and flickering, leapt from the tree line. Katie spun, blasting it back with a burst of white-blue light, but more surged from the mist.

Sean stepped in front of her, his wand flashing. “Stupefy! Diffindo!”

Two creatures disintegrated mid-air, howling soundlessly.

Another Watcher crawled from beneath a snow-covered stump. Katie turned to strike—but a fourth had already reached her. Claws tore through her cloak and into her back. She screamed, collapsing to one knee.

Sean roared, his wand carving a brilliant arc. The creature shattered in a column of light.

“Stay still,” he said, his voice sharp with fear. He knelt beside her, hands glowing as he pressed against the wound. Magic knitted skin and flesh together, but Katie’s breathing stayed ragged.

He pulled her up, steadying her. “No more delays.”

They ran.

The trees thinned into twisted bramble. The ground turned to wet stone and fractured gravel. A clearing opened before them—unnaturally circular, as if carved from the mountain itself.

At its center stood a water well.

Katie slowed. Her breath clouded as she stepped closer.

The well was wrong.

The stones were slick with something black—mold that pulsed and breathed like skin. The interior was not just dark. It was absence. Void. A hole in the world that swallowed all light. The wooden roof that once covered it lay shattered in splinters, warped with rot and magic.

Sean stopped behind her. “This is it.”

Katie approached slowly. She raised her wand. “Lumos Maxima.”

A sphere of light sparked at her wand tip, brilliant—then died, devoured by the darkness.

Her heart pounded.

She reached into her pocket and withdrew the serpent relic.

It throbbed with light—alive, pulsing in rhythm with the silence.

Sean’s voice was cautious. “Katie—what are you doing?”

“I’m giving it what it’s been waiting for.”

The relic’s light brightened with every step.

She held it over the opening. The glow illuminated her face, casting her eyes in gold, silver, and something else—something older.

Then she let go.

The relic dropped.

No splash.

No echo.

Only silence.

Then the earth trembled.

The Watchers that had begun to trickle into the clearing vanished—reabsorbed into the spreading mass like ink into water. The air turned brittle, frozen in place.

The well split. Shadows bled upward—not like smoke, but like a truth—rising, unfolding.

Both Katie and Sean rose their wands together.

It rose not like a beast but like a reckoning, pulled from the cracks in the mountain and the memory of the earth. It towered with no single form, yet all forms—stitched from sorrow and rot, a tangle of limbs and grief. Eyes flickered and vanished across its surface. Its body shifted with thought. Its voice, when it came, was not loud. It was soft.

Cold.

Intimate.

“You are not my enemy,” it whispered. “You are mine.”

Chapter Text

The clearing was still.

Snow lay heavy on the ground, unbroken except for the deep, uneven impressions left by Katie’s boots. The air was sharp with cold, yet every breath seemed to drag heat from her chest instead of giving it back.

She felt it before she saw it — a vibration in the marrow, like the forest itself had gone tense, waiting.

A shape coalesced between the trees, not stepping into view so much as condensing from the shadows. It was neither man nor beast, but a formless, shifting presence — smoke given hunger, darkness given teeth. Tendrils of a familiar composition: the beast from in-between on Ilvermorny grounds and the contorted Watchers.

“I’m not yours,” Katie said, her wand hand trembling only slightly.

The Shadow’s voice was a rasp that seemed to seep into her skin. “Not mine? You are just what she made you,” it continued, coiling around her like a memory of pain. “She could not destroy me. So she tore away my essence. She stole Death's graces — my greatest mercy — and locked it away in her bloodline.”

It drifted closer, its edges curling like ink in water. “Even Salazar Slytherin — your ancestor — he saw a glimpse of what you are.”

“He thought himself my master,” it said. “Believed my hunger could be harnessed to purify wizardkind. How foolish. His ‘blood purity,’ his obsession with magical breeding… the simplest ideas that came from the leash I wrapped around his narrow mind. He thought he was using me — but it was I who shaped him.”

Katie’s fingers tightened on her wand. “You corrupted him.” She jumped to avoid the touch of a passing ghostly tendril.

A sound like a dry chuckle rattled through the clearing. “Corrupted? No. I gave him purpose. But his ideology of those without magical foundation were… shallow.”

The air between them warped — and Katie’s vision stuttered. For an instant, the snow beneath her feet was gone, replaced by scenes so vivid she could almost smell the smoke.

Torches lit the faces of screaming mobs. Nooses swayed in the wind. Ash rose from a village swallowed by fire. Columns of prisoners shuffled toward gates crowned with iron, their eyes hollow, their breath misting in the cold.

“No-Maj wars, genocides, lynchings, pogroms — they are feasts,” the Shadow hissed, its voice curling like oil through water. “Men without magic can be more even more inventive in their hatred than any dark wizard. Voldemort, Grindelwald, Ranrock — they were amateurs compared to the kings and generals of mortality.”

“And you, little heir of Isolt and Slytherin… you could eclipse them all. Death in mortal skin, with the power to unmake armies or cradle them back to life. They would have worshiped you. Or feared you. Instead you chose to prolong their suffering by healing instead.”

More visions surged in jagged flashes — trenches clogged with mud and blood, bombs falling over crowded city streets, a boy barely older than Katie gripping a rifle with shaking hands before disappearing into the blast.

The forest seemed to absorb the images, the snow at their feet momentarily stained with the echoes of blood and ash. Katie’s heart pounded — not just from fear of the Shadow, but from the chilling truth laced in its words.

"I'm taking back what's mine."

It struck without warning — a tendril of darkness snapping toward her like a whip. Katie dove aside, snow spraying as it gouged the ground where she’d stood.

Another strike — she blocked with a shield charm, but the force rattled her bones. The next came low, sweeping for her legs; she leapt over it, boots crunching back into snow.

“You dodge well,” the Shadow said. “But everything breaks, given time.”

A coil of darkness whipped forward and caught her wrist. She wrenched free, skin numb and burning all at once.

Then the world went cold.

Bands of solid shadow wrapped her arms and chest, crushing the breath from her lungs. Her boots left the ground. The Shadow turned her like a doll, forcing her gaze toward the treeline.

Sean was there.

His wand was raised, his hair dusted with snow, his greyscale eyes locked on her like she was the only thing left in the world... and his sleeve just high enough to show the golden mark gleaming around his wrist. The one around her own warmed.

The Shadow’s claws unspooled toward him. “He bleeds already, doesn’t he? I could make him hate this world until nothing remains. And then, when he begs for release, I would grant him my final gift.”

And claws struck.

Sean slammed into a tree, the crack of impact loud enough to startle a murder of crows from the canopy. He slid into the drift at its base, groaning once before going still.

Katie’s scream ripped the air.

“But I cannot grant him mercy while you remain in this fragile human skin,” the Shadow whispered against her ear. “You bind me. You deny me my endings.”

Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning thought. Every muscle strained against the bonds. She couldn’t break them. Couldn’t reach Sean.

The air smells like pencil shavings and floor wax. The chatter of a public-school lunchroom hums around her.

A boy twice her size has her cornered against the wall, blocking her way to the table where Sean sits. His voice is a sneering chant about her hair, her hand-me-downs, the way she “talks weird.”

Before she even thinks, her hand closes around a nearby lunch tray — heavy plastic, slick with spilled milk. She swings it hard, the motion pure instinct.

Something inside her surges. The tray lands with a crack far louder than it should, knocking the boy back so hard he hits the floor and stays down, gasping and clutching his side. The other kids stare, silent.

Sean is there a heartbeat later — smaller than the boy, but already standing between her and anyone else, his jaw set like he’d fight the whole world if he had to.

Then Deirdre’s hands are on Katie’s shoulders, steering her away, her voice a calm current in the noise.

Later, at the kitchen table, Deirdre kneels so their eyes meet.

“You can’t let someone else’s meanness make you mean too, Katie,” she says softly. “It might feel like you won, but evil never really wins. It just makes more of itself.”

Katie stared down at her hands, still tingling from the strange, fierce energy that had rushed through her, still unsure if she was sorry. Sean’s hand had found hers under the table, a silent promise.

The visions the Shadow had poured into her — the nooses, the burning cities, the boy with the rifle — were proof enough: every time hatred was fed, it grew. Every time it was answered in kind, it spread.

‘You can’t let someone else’s meanness make you mean too, Katie… evil never really wins. It just makes more of itself.’

Her mother’s voice was as steady in her mind now as it had been in their kitchen all those years ago. Back then, it had been about a bully and a lunch tray. Here, it was about something vast and ancient and hungry. But the truth was the same.

And then — a glint of ethereal light shone, tucked within the snow a few yards.

‘Not this time. Not through me.’

Her magic surged from the marrow, through muscle and skin, into the bonds holding her. They shattered like glass. She fell to her knees, snow biting her palms.

She ran.

The Shadow’s scream chased her — no fear, only fury — as she threw herself through drifts, boots breaking the crust of ice. The relic’s glow grew with every step. When her fingers closed around it, the warmth was instant and alive, coiling up her arm like a living serpent.

Ancient magic bloomed in her chest — bright, unyielding, and carrying her mother’s lesson like a blade.

She turned. The Shadow was already upon her, tendrils lashing. She raised the relic high.

Its core flared — white-gold shot through with deep, venomous green — and the forest shuddered. She spoke no incantation; the magic didn’t need one.

The light struck like a thunderclap. The Shadow’s form tore into ribbons, each strand writhing as it dissolved into flecks of memory: soldiers screaming, cities burning, mobs chanting. All the hatred it had fed on, ripped bare and unmade.

“You—cannot—unmake—me—” it howled, but its voice was already fading, threads of darkness scattering into the wind.

“I’m not unmaking you,” she said, her voice steady despite the ache tearing through her. “This is mercy…”

The silence after the Shadow’s destruction was almost deafening — no whispering wind, no rustle of branches — only the pounding of her own heartbeat.

The relic pulsed once in her palm, then went still — as if it, too, had decided the fight was over.

The air began to shimmer with warmth.

The sky began to clear.

Sunlight filtered through the bare canopy above, catching on the light dusting of snow that still clung to branches and shaded hollows. Trees that had once been hollow and blackened now bore the earliest signs of budding life — tiny green tips pushing from silver-grey branches. Beneath the cracked earth, frost receded in rivulets.

Sean.

Her gaze locked on his crumpled form at the base of the shattered tree. The snow beneath him was streaked with crimson, stark against the pale frost. His chest rose, shallow and uneven, each breath a fragile thread tying him to life.

She dropped the relic, breaking into an uncoordinated sprint, dropping to her knees beside him. “Sean… Sean, please,” she murmured, pressing her trembling hands to his ribs. Ancient magic stirred reluctantly within her, sluggish and heavy after the climb down the mountain, after the endless malformed Watchers, and the battle with the Shadow. Her mortal reserves were scraped raw.

Light bled from her palms into his body. She could feel the deep damage — the cracked ribs, the bruised lungs, the swelling at the back of his skull. Too much. She focused on what she could fix — pulling the breath more evenly into his chest, coaxing the bleeding to slow.

Her vision swam. It was like pouring water from a cup that had already run dry. A sharp ache began to bloom in her side, mirroring one of his injuries. A tear dropped to the tattered cloth on his chest before her arms gave way, and she slumped forward, her weight sinking into him.

Sean’s eyelids twitched before finally lifting, his gaze struggling to focus. When his eyes found hers, there was both relief and disbelief in their greyscale depths.

“You…”

Her throat tightened. “I'm never leaving,” she murmured weakly, voice breaking. “Never. Not without you.”

She tried to help him upright, but her body betrayed her. Her arms buckled once more, only half-falling against him again, the warmth of his chest solid under her cheek. For a heartbeat, neither of them could do more than breathe.

Sean’s arm, trembling but stubborn, hooked around her as if to anchor her to him.

“You’re hurt,” he rasped.

Katie gave a breathless, shaky laugh that was almost a sigh. “Just… tired,” she murmured, her voice carrying the faintest edge of sarcasm, though her exhaustion made it sound more like surrender.

Katie spotted something as Sean pulled her as close as possible. A small bloom nestled in the thawing ground beside them — petals of soft pink. Delicate. Out of place.

“I'll never let you go.”

They stayed pressed together, leaning into each other, her head still against his shoulder. It was less about balance now and more about the simple, unspoken truth that neither wanted to let go.

“We do need to move,” he murmured finally, voice frayed but steady enough to sound like him again.

She nodded, brushing a blood-matted strand of hair from his forehead. “We will. Just… give me a second to feel like I’m not going to pass out on you.”

Sean managed the faintest smile, even as pain shadowed his expression. “You know I'll always catch you.”

Chapter Text

The forest was quieter now.

Not silent—just hushed, as though the mountain itself had released its breath. Katie walked alongside Sean beneath the canopy of skeletal trees, their branches etched against the night sky like dark veins. Bits of frost clung to the undergrowth, crunching under their boots as they made their slow way back toward Ilvermorny.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their hands intertwined said more than the angriest Howler ever could.

Katie’s shoulder occasionally brushed Sean's arm, and every so often, Katie’s fingers would twitch against his. They were both covered in blood—some dried, some fresh. Sean’s shirt was torn at the chest and shoulder blade, and Katie’s clothes were ripped down the back. But they were standing. Breathing. Together.

A sharp voice cut through the quiet.

“There you are.”

Katie froze. Sean turned instinctively, wand half-lifted.

Professor Bellamy emerged from the trees, his coat flaring like a crow’s wings behind him. An Auror followed closely—one Katie recognized from earlier in the term, his coat marked with the Auror insignia and a faint gleam of a pocket watch charm tucked into his vest.

The moment Bellamy saw them—truly saw them—his shoulders dropped, and something deep in his chest deflated.

“You're—Merlin, you’re alive,” he breathed. Then, sharply: “Do you have any idea what you've done? The Headmistress called the search hours ago! Every professor and half the Auror office has been combing these woods—”

“We're okay,” Sean said quietly.

“Just… worn out… and dirty.” Katie added.

Bellamy looked them over, eyes lingering on the blood, the torn fabric, the way Katie leaned slightly to one side.

“Hardly looks like ‘okay.’”

Katie didn’t respond.

Bellamy stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Let’s get you back.”

Her gaze drifted past him to the Auror beside him, then into the night and somewhere deeper still. A memory had returned to her as they walked. Not like a dream, but an archived thread finally tugged loose.

The hospital room. A tiny girl with red hair curled on a cot, an old IV line tangled in her arm. Somewhere in the corner, a man in a deep green coat—Bellamy—was speaking in low tones to another wizard with sharp eyes. The man said words like "obliviation" and "magical suppression." And in the adjacent chair—a young Sean, standing beside her in the corner. And Bellamy. That room. The moment they decided she would be hidden… and he was there.

“Do I know you?” Katie questioned the Auror.

“I believe we may have met some years ago, yes,” he said calmly.

Professor Bellamy added dryly, “She remembers, Charles.”

The Auror smiled, “Well, welcome back, Miss Donnelly.”

Katie blinked hard, the cold air burning her lungs now. She said nothing else.

The infirmary was warm, and for the first time in what felt like years, Katie let herself exhale fully. She and Sean were ushered inside by Bellamy, the Auror close behind. Headmistress Morrigan and Professor Vale were already there—Morrigan in a slate cloak, arms folded, expression unreadable. Vale gave Katie a fleeting look of relief, then quickly masked it with professionalism.

The Matron—Madam Teagan—made a soft, exasperated sound when she saw their condition and waved her wand furiously. Clean linens, healing potions, and a glowing vial of blood-replenishing elixir floated over as she began casting diagnostic charms without waiting for permission.

“Sit. Both of you. Now,” she barked.

Katie barely made it onto the bed before Headmistress Morrigan began. “What happened out there?”

Sean tried to sit up straighter. “There was… a breach. In the wards around the eastern glade. Something had been sleeping beneath the mountain. It woke.”

The Headmistress looked to Katie. “And you?”

Katie swallowed. “It knew me. It had been waiting.”

The Auror stepped forward. “Was it a dark creature? A curse? A sentient spell construct?”

“It was older than that,” Katie said. “It wasn’t just dark. It was darkness. A wound that had never healed. Something Isolt Sayre sealed away.”

Professor Bellamy didn’t move. But Katie felt the tension in the room shift when he looked at her.

“What happened to it?” Vale asked quietly.

Katie met her gaze. “It's gone.”

Before anyone could press further, the doors slammed open with a loud crack.

“Katie!”

Gabby’s voice rang out like a magical siren.

Katie barely had time to register the blur of her best friend before she was tackled backward into a tight, tear-filled embrace. Gabby clung to her like she was afraid she’d disappear again. Camden, Lucien, and Nick followed, looking winded from the sprint but very much determined to be there.

“She’s going to fall off the bed,” Sean warned weakly, trying to sit up.

“Let her,” Camden said with the smallest smirk, his eyes glancing at the dried blood on Katie’s hands.

Gabby finally let go enough to look at Katie, her eyes shimmering.

“I thought—I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered. “Don’t ever do that again!”

“I’ll try,” Katie said, voice hoarse.

Professor Vale cleared her throat. “They need rest. And their friends.”

Morrigan looked as though she wanted to disagree, but instead she gave a stiff nod.

The adults filed out silently, one by one, leaving the room to quiet down again.

Nick approached Sean and placed a hand on his arm. Lucien sat awkwardly near Katie until Gabby tugged him away to claim the spot instead.

For a few minutes, no one spoke. They didn’t need to. Their presence was enough.

Gabby remained perched at the edge of Katie’s bed, hands folded tightly in her lap. Camden had dropped into the chair between their beds, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“You two look like you’ve been through the Wrackspurt Wars,” Lucien said, trying for levity but unable to mask the strain in his voice.

Sean gave a faint, tired huff. “Feels about right.”

Nick’s gaze lingered on them both, sharp but concerned. “What happened out there?”

Katie’s eyes flickered up to his, and for a heartbeat, she seemed ready to answer — but the weight in her bones pulled her gaze back to the blanket. “We’ll explain everything,” she said softly. “Just… not tonight.”

“We’re running on fumes,” Sean added.

Gabby nodded quickly, reading the exhaustion in their slouched shoulders and pale faces. “Then we’ll shut up and just be here.”

Lucien grinned faintly. “For the record, I don’t shut up for just anyone.”

A ghost of a smile touched Katie’s lips. “We know.”

Eventually, Madam Teagan returned and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Out-out. All of you. They’ll be just fine, but only if they rest.”

Gabby reluctantly stood, wiping her face. Camden gave Sean a nod. Nick squeezed Katie’s shoulder. Lucien ruffled her hair with surprising gentleness. “See you in the morning, Katie Lady,” he whispered.

When they were gone, the infirmary dimmed.

Katie lay back, eyes on the ceiling.

Somewhere to her left, Sean shifted.

A moment later, she heard the soft swish of a spell. “Evanesco.”

The folding divider between their beds disappeared with a quiet pop.

“What are you—”

“Accio,” Sean whispered before she could finish.

Katie’s bed glided smoothly across the floor until it aligned perfectly with Sean’s.

She looked at the door of the infirmary, then quickly back to him.

“Madam Teagan’s going to be livid,” she murmured.

“Let her be mad,” he said, reaching for her.

She didn’t hesitate.

Katie slid into the crook of his arm and rested her head against his chest. She could hear his heart—steady and real.

Safe.

They said nothing more.

Wrapped in the hush of the infirmary and the soft glow of healing charms, they fell asleep in each other’s arms as snow gently fell outside the high windows of the castle.

Chapter Text

The days after the confrontation in the glade felt like waking from a long dream.

Life at Ilvermorny returned to a steady rhythm, though something fundamental had shifted in all of them. The serpent relic had been used for its purpose. The shadow of Slytherin’s fractured spirit had been unmasked. Isolt's objective to banish the Shadow had been fulfilled.

Katie and Sean spent more time together than ever. They walked through the forest trails that no longer felt ominous, shared books in the library, and found quiet places to simply exist beside each other without fear or secrets. There was laughter again. Gabby, Camden, Nick, and Lucien rallied around them, pulling them back into the day-to-day joy of being teenagers with magic and a little too much homework.

The castle itself seemed lighter, too. The hallways were still chilly with the last hold of winter, but the air hummed with relief.

At breakfast one morning, the group gathered at the far end of the Horned Serpent table. Camden was mid-bite into a sausage link when Gabby groaned loudly and dropped her face into her oatmeal.

“If I have to hear the word 'Confederation' one more time, I will vanish myself,” she said dramatically.

Nick looked over his toast. “Magical History again?”

Gabby nodded without lifting her head. “Professor Ashworth's voice is an Unforgivable Curse.”

Lucien leaned in, whispering theatrically, “I don’t think he’s blinked since 1802.”

Katie giggled into her tea. “Is that what that smell is? Ancient parchment and despair?”

“I think I saw a cobweb on his robe,” Camden added.

Sean didn’t look up from his book—Magical History Through the Ages—but his brow twitched.

“You’re reading that by choice?” Gabby asked, appalled.

“Trying to find a reason to stay awake next class,” Sean replied dryly, flipping a page. “Haven’t found one yet.”

“You’ve got two days,” Katie reminded him with a gentle nudge to his arm.

“Not enough time,” he muttered.

Magical Creatures was held in a partially cleared grove south of the greenhouses, the ground still spongy from thawed frost.

Professor Wynn stood beside a long-robed Thestral, its wings tucked neatly at its sides, dark skin stretched over bone like satin. Several more Thestrals milled nearby, sniffing curiously at the students.

“Now,” Wynn said, rubbing his hands together, “today you’ll be assisting with feeding, observing wing extension, and practicing gentle command cues. It’s not every year we get such a… responsive class.”

Katie looked around. Every student was staring directly at the creatures. Some in awe. Some in quiet reverence.

Professor Wynn blinked. “Odd. Usually only a few can see them. But all of you—?”

He trailed off, puzzled.

Gabby leaned closer to Katie and whispered, “Do you think we should tell him?”

Katie gave her a sideways glance. “What, that he’s looking at a bunch of kids who’ve technically seen Death?”

Gabby raised her brows. “Okay, fair point.”

Katie smirked. “No. Let’s keep this one to ourselves.”

The Thestrals were calm, their eyes shining like polished stone. One nudged Camden, who instinctively offered his hand. Another lowered its head to Nick, who looked it over with quiet fascination.

Even Lucien, normally restless during anything requiring patience, remained reverent. “You’re beautiful,” he said softly to the creature in front of him. It snorted and flapped its wings gently.

Professor Wynn clapped his hands. “Marvelous. Truly remarkable class. I’ve never seen a group so naturally attuned to Thestrals. I’ll have to revise my notes.”

Katie exchanged a glance with Gabby, who tried—and failed—not to laugh.

The next period brought them to the greenhouses, where Professor Greer had a stack of gardening gloves, protective eyewear, and an announcement.

“Exploding cabbages,” she said with a wicked grin. “They’ve been unusually feisty this year. Mind your timing and wandwork.”

Katie and Gabby paired up quickly, careful to enchant the soil perimeter and charm their cabbage’s pulse rhythm. It was rhythmic and puffing slightly but hadn't gone off yet.

From two tables down came an unmistakable shout.

“Back! Stay—no, wait—Expelli—”

BOOM.

A wet splat of magical force sprayed across the greenhouse. Screams of shock turned into howls of laughter.

Dorian stood in the middle of it all, hair flattened, robes dripping, and his face nearly obscured beneath a gloppy smear of manure, mulch, and cabbage guts.

Greer raised one eyebrow and waved her wand slowly. “Ten points from your house for poor containment technique, Mr. Blackwell.”

Gabby turned to Katie. “Best class ever.”

By the time they reached the castle steps again, Katie and Gabby were still laughing about Dorian’s failed duel with produce.

“I swear his hair deflated,” Gabby wheezed. “Like a balloon in slow motion.”

Katie smiled, cheeks aching in the best way. “He’s going to smell like magical compost for a week.”

At the bottom of the main staircase, they nearly collided with Sean, Camden, and Lucien.

“There you are,” Camden said. “We were just coming to find—”

A loud voice rang out behind them. “What the f—”

BOOM!

A thunderclap cracked through the corridor as Ilvermorny's beloved and temperamental cleaning cloud drenched Dorian in a sudden downpour of magically charged rain.

The storm whirled once in satisfaction and zipped off down the hall, humming like a cranky engine.

Dorian stood still, completely soaked, cabbage pulp sliding off his robes in limp clumps.

The hallway erupted with laughter.

Lucien actually doubled over. “He just got weather-slapped!”

Sean covered his grin behind his book. “Well, he was dirty,” he murmured, not looking up.

Katie leaned into him, laughing freely, her hand brushing his.

For the first time in what felt like forever, it was just a normal day at Ilvermorny.

And that, Katie thought, was magic in itself.

Chapter Text

The warmth of spring had begun to take root across the Ilvermorny grounds. Snowmelt trickled from the rocky ridges beyond the wards, and wildflowers dotted the hills just outside the castle. The scent of damp earth and fresh budding leaves wafted through the open windows, carried by the gentle breeze that moved like a sigh of relief through the corridors.

Katie strolled beside Sean down a sun-dappled stone path just outside the castle walls. The tension of the past few weeks hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had lightened. Sean occasionally brushed her hand with his as they walked, and though neither said much, there was comfort in the silence.

“I’m glad it’s finally spring,” Katie murmured, glancing up at the brightening sky. “Everything feels less… heavy.”

Sean nodded. “You deserve lightness.”

Katie smiled at that. “So do you.”

Back inside, Camden had taken up residence on one of the cushioned window seats of the library, legs stretched across the cushion, lazily flipping through a Herbology textbook he clearly had no interest in. When he spotted Gabby entering, he theatrically groaned.

“Please tell me you brought something sweet and edible,” he said.

Gabby rolled her eyes and held up a small box of candied almonds. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Camden perked up. “You’re an angel. A sarcastic, terrifying angel.”

Katie and Sean entered soon after, exchanging looks with the others before all five settled into their usual corner. Lucien joined them a few moments later, hair windswept and cheeks pink from the brisk breeze.

“Nick’s finishing a paper,” Lucien reported, sliding into the spot next to Camden. “He’ll meet us later.”

“Is he alright?” Katie asked.

Lucien nodded. “Yeah. Just tired. It’s been a weird few weeks.”

There was a collective agreement in the form of muttered ‘mhms’ and soft nods.

Sean sat beside Katie, eyes gracefully sifting through the words of his current read. Katie had leaned forward over her notebook, but couldn't find words to jot down. She shifted multiple times but was unable to find words meant to jot down.

It was when she started tapping her quill mindlessly, Sean closed his book. “What's wrong?”

Katie hesitated before answering Sean’s question, pen still tapping against her notebook. “It’s nothing,” she said, though her voice carried the sort of unconvincing lightness that made Sean tilt his head.

“Really? You're about to chop this table in two with a quill,” he said softly. He closed his book completely, sliding it aside.

She gave a faint huff of a laugh. “I’m just… restless, I guess.”

“I guess this normal life within Ilvermorny seems almost abnormal.”

Katie smiled at him, “nothing to worry about but homework and quickly approaching exams. Professor Vale must be proud.”

Her gaze flicked toward their friends, still gathered and chatting. Camden was offering Lucien one of Gabby’s almonds in exchange for some sort of ridiculous favor. Gabby was pretending not to watch the trade with an amused smirk.

Katie's eyes looked at the tapestry behind them: a threaded image of books, a Pukwudgie skull, and a pocket watch.

It gave Katie an idea. “Actually, I know a place we can go.” Katie turned back to Sean. “It’s not far.”

“Lead the way,” he said, already rising from his chair.

Katie murmured a quick “back in a bit” to the others. Camden made a vague noise of acknowledgment, still mid-negotiation with Lucien.

Sean’s hand slipped naturally into hers as they stepped out of the library. The noise and warmth of their corner faded behind them, replaced by the quiet hush of the corridor. Afternoon sunlight stretched in golden stripes across the flagstones, dust motes drifting lazily through the air.

Katie slowed near the narrow, unassuming door tucked between two sections of wall, half-hidden behind an old suit of armor. Her fingers brushed the wood.

Sean glanced at it, then at her. “Is this…?”

She nodded once, the faintest smile ghosting her lips. “Isolt’s room. The one I told you about, but… I haven’t been back in a while.”

The hinges gave a soft groan as she pushed the door open, revealing a narrow stone passage smelling faintly of dust and parchment. Katie lit her wand, the glow picking up ancient scratches in the mortar and the uneven slope of the floor.

The chamber at the end felt warmer than the hall outside, as if the air itself remembered being inhabited. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with carefully preserved books, sealed wooden boxes, and the faint scent of long-dried herbs.

Sean walked around, examining the bindings of the books, passing his hand through a dusty cobweb, and noticing the small Pensieve.

Katie crossed to the far wall where the large tapestry hung. Threaded with vibrant colors and gold stitching, it depicted Ilvermorny’s founders and their descendants. Her breath caught as her eyes landed on her own likeness in the newest addition.

She was whole.

Where before her face had been faded, now every detail was vivid—her auburn hair gleamed in warm copper tones, her blue-green eyes shone with bright threads, and the serpent pendant at her neck glittered as if the stitcher had caught real sunlight in the thread. Even the background behind her figure looked brighter, richer, alive.

Sean came to stand beside her.

“It’s complete.” Katie said slowly, her throat tight. “It’s like… the Shadow was keeping me unfinished.”

She reached toward the embroidery, her fingertip tracing the edge of her likeness. “I didn’t realize how much it bothered me until now.”

The moment her hand skimmed the last stitch, Sean moved—catching her wrist gently but firmly and pressing her back against the cool stone wall beside the tapestry.

Her breath caught.

He was close enough that she could see the shifting light in his greyscale eyes, feel the faint brush of his breath against her lips.

“Every time you disappear into your thoughts like that…” he murmured, voice low and deliberate, “…I want to remind you you’re here. Now. With me.”

Katie’s pulse thudded in her ears. “Sean—”

But the rest was lost when he leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was both grounding and dizzying all at once—like anchoring her in place while setting her completely adrift. Her free hand curled into the front of his shirt, holding on, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her palm.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “None of it decides who you are,” he whispered. “You do.”

Katie’s lips curved faintly. “I’ll try to remember that.”

He let her go reluctantly, his hand sliding away from her wrist only after a lingering pause.

As they left the chamber, Katie swore she could still feel the heat of his touch… and the threads of silver and gold within the tapestry behind them seemed to glisten.

The six friends ventured outside again, this time toward a low hill that overlooked the Quidditch pitch. The grass was cool beneath their shoes, carrying the faint scent of clover and the dampness of the afternoon thaw. Above them, the sky had begun its slow transformation into layers of sherbet-orange and rose gold, the kind of light that felt too fleeting to capture.

“I needed this,” Gabby said, flopping down onto the grass with a dramatic sigh.

Camden stretched out beside her, arms folded behind his head. “Who knew fresh air didn’t kill us after all?”

Katie sat quietly between Sean and Lucien, though she was only half-present in the moment. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Isolt's hidden corridor—the warmth of Sean’s hand catching her wrist, the steady wall at her back, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a tether. Even now, her lips tingled faintly from that kiss, and she found herself absently brushing her fingers across them.

Sean leaned close, his shoulder brushing hers, and murmured, “You always seem lost in thought when the sky looks like this.”

Katie glanced at him, a faint blush appeared with the curve in her mouth. “That’s because it reminds me of possibilities.”

Possibilities. Of what she could be now that she wasn’t unfinished. Of what they could be, now that shadows weren’t clawing at the edges of their lives.

The others began discussing classes and speculating about their next big assignment, their voices mingling with the rustle of the breeze through the grass. Katie let the conversation wash over her, resting her head lightly against Sean’s shoulder, letting his quiet presence anchor her in the here and now—even as the memory of that moment earlier in the day lingered like a secret warmth in her chest.

Katie entered her dorm late that evening, the castle corridors quiet under the hush of twilight. Gabby was already asleep, a silk sleep mask askew on her forehead, one arm flopped over the edge of the bed. The curtains billowed slightly in the breeze from the cracked window, carrying the crisp scent of lingering snow.

Katie moved quietly, shedding her cloak and boots, before pausing.

Something was sitting on her pillow.

A small, hand-carved wooden box.

She recognized the pattern immediately—delicate whorls carved into the lid in the shape of twisting vines and a tiny, curling serpent. The craftsmanship was unmistakable. William.

Her heart squeezed.

Katie sat on the edge of the bed and opened it gently.

Inside was a resin orb, smooth and clear as glass, no bigger than a snitch. Suspended in its center was the pink flower—the one that had bloomed beside Sean’s body after the Shadow had been destroyed. Perfect. Untouched. As if preserved in that very moment.

The air caught in her throat.

She turned the orb slowly in her fingers, watching the delicate petals shift under the light. There was no note, no signature. But there didn’t need to be.

The box could only be from William.

A silent reminder. A quiet offering.

Not a weapon. Not a relic. Just a flower. A life.

Katie smiled faintly, cradling the orb in her palm as she lay back against the pillows. The dorm was dim, the world safe—for now. She closed her eyes and pressed the orb gently to her chest.

As if holding the proof that even in darkness, something beautiful could still grow.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the silence.

Chapter Text

The sharp breeze of early spring whipped through the stadium, rustling banners in house colors as the next Quidditch match began. Students filled the stands, cheering wildly as Horned Serpent and Wampus players soared into the sky. Katie sat beside Gabby, Lucien, and Nick, eyes locked on the sky. Camden’s booming voice echoed across the pitch as he shouted encouragement to his teammates.

Sean, dressed in his full Quidditch gear, hovered high above the field, his platinum blond hair windswept, grey eyes focused. Katie’s heart raced each time he zipped by.

The match was fierce and fast-paced. Bludgers whistled through the air, and the Snitch flitted around like a sunbeam. The teams were well matched, but Horned Serpent played with cohesion and strategy, Camden blocking multiple shots and Sean diving with practiced precision.

“He’s good,” Lucien murmured.

“He’s amazing,” Katie whispered before she realized she’d spoken aloud. Gabby gave her a smirk.

Wampus nearly tied the score in the final stretch, but Sean shot downward like a lightning bolt. With a final lunge, he closed his hand around the golden Snitch just before it could vanish again.

The stadium erupted into cheers.

“Horned Serpent wins!” Professor Vale’s voice rang through the air.

Players landed on the pitch, hugging and high-fiving. Camden landed his broom in a dramatic swoop right in front of Gabby. Before she could react, he stepped forward and pulled her into a surprise kiss. Gasps and cheers rang out from nearby students.

Katie gaped while Gabby pulled back, eyes wide. “Camden!” she gasped, then promptly punched him in the arm. But before he could react, Gabby grabbed him by the collar and kissed him even harder—pulling a second round of cheers from nearby students.

Katie and Sean were still laughing as they approached. Sean, still holding the Snitch, leaned close and opened his hand, revealing the gleaming gold.

“For you,” he said softly, placing the Snitch in Katie’s hand.

She blinked. “Are you serious?”

Sean gave her a lopsided smile.

Katie looked down at the Snitch, then back up at him. “I’m going to need a trophy case.”

She didn’t need trophies. But this—this mattered.

He laughed, brushing a strand of red hair from her cheek. “One for every match that matters.”

She smiled, and he leaned in and kissed her. It was warm and grounding, full of everything unspoken.

“Hey!” Camden hollered, seeing them. “PDA is our thing now!”

Katie, red-faced but grinning, shot back, “Says the one who launched a sneak attack in front of half the school!”

Gabby added with a smirk, “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.”

Nick watched the two couples with an amused smile. “You know what? Why the hell not,” he muttered, then grabbed Lucien and kissed him—surprising even Lucien, who usually made the first move. Lucien blinked, then pulled Nick in tighter with a grin.

Camden raised his hands. “Okay! Now I’m the only one not blushing!”

A roar of laughter followed.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, students began filing out of the stands. A random Horned Serpent student shouted, “Party in the common room!”

A fresh wave of cheers rang out, and the six friends turned to follow the crowd, arms brushing and fingers laced, victory warm in their chests.

The Horned Serpent common room glowed with enchantments and floating lanterns as the post-Quidditch victory celebration took full flight. Blue and silver ribbons twirled through the air, draped from the ceiling beams and spiraling around the tall windows. Someone had enchanted the serpent statue near the fireplace to spit sparkles every few minutes, drawing delighted gasps from younger students.

Katie sat with Gabby on one of the overstuffed couches, laughing as Camden dramatically reenacted his surprise kiss in exaggerated slow motion. “And then,” he said, gesturing to himself with a flourish, “I landed with the elegance of a phoenix, took her by the shoulders, and—bam!”

Gabby rolled her eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I didn’t hex you.”

“You punched me and then kissed me harder. I call that a win,” Camden replied proudly.

Sean was leaning against the mantel with Katie beside him, one arm lazily draped around her shoulders. She was still blushing from earlier, though Sean remained calm and collected, sipping a butterbeer with the ease of someone completely unfazed by Camden’s antics.

“Please tell me we don’t have to kiss every time someone wins a Quidditch match,” Katie muttered under her breath.

“Only if you want to fill the whole shelf,” Sean whispered back.

Katie nudged him with her elbow, but she couldn’t help smiling.

Nick and Lucien had claimed the loveseat near the fireplace. Nick looked positively smug after earlier events on the field. “I think I surprised even myself,” he said.

“You surprised all of us,” Lucien added, his tone teasing but affectionate. “Do it again.”

“I like to keep you on your toes.”

The laughter, the warmth, the energy—it all enveloped Katie like a cocoon. For the first time in a while, things felt normal. Safe. Joyful.

Someone shouted, “Speeches!” and Camden climbed on top of a low table.

“To Horned Serpent!” he declared, holding up his drink. “To catching Snitches, kissing, and still looking good doing it!”

The room erupted with cheers.

Gabby leaned closer to Katie and whispered, “You know, I’m starting to think I might like him.”

Katie snorted. “You think?”

Sean leaned in and kissed Katie’s temple. “Want to sneak out for a walk?”

Katie glanced around the room, then nodded. “Yeah. Just for a little while.”

They slipped out of the common room, hand in hand, leaving behind the buzz of celebration for the quiet hush of the corridors beyond.

The night was young, and the stars were just beginning to shimmer above the towers of Ilvermorny.

Chapter Text

Katie and Sean slipped away from the common room party after the cheers, games, and too many sweets. Laughter still echoed faintly behind them as they wandered out beneath the crisp, early spring night. The stars stretched above Ilvermorny like a canvas of ancient light, casting a silver hue over the grounds.

Sean led the way across the soft grass, his fingers laced with Katie’s. She was still grinning from the party, cheeks flushed from the warmth and joy of it all.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice light and teasing.

“Somewhere quieter,” he said. “You’ve had a long day of receiving Snitches and being adored.”

Katie chuckled. “Yeah. By you.”

He stopped at a small clearing with a wide view of the sky and turned to her. “Better be.”

Before she could argue, Sean conjured a thick wool blanket with a flick of his wand, the fabric settling onto the grass with a faint thud. A trace of mahogany wood and clean mountain air clung to it. He spread it carefully, then sat down and tugged her hand until she joined him, lying side by side beneath the stars.

The sky stretched endlessly above them, a velvet expanse stitched with light. A cool breeze curled over the grass, lifting the edge of the blanket and brushing cold air against Katie’s cheek — making the warmth of Sean’s presence even sharper by contrast. Somewhere far behind them, the party’s laughter faded into a faint, muffled hum, replaced by the low rustle of leaves and the distant rush of the waterfall beyond the castle walls.

Sean rested on his side beside her, propped up on one elbow. With a flick of his wand, a constellation map shimmered into being above them, faint golden threads tracing the shapes in the sky.

“That one,” Sean said, pointing northwest. “Cepheus. Looks like a house, right?”

“Only if you squint and believe in rectangles,” Katie replied, doing exactly that. “Why are all these named after Greek myths, anyway? Don’t wizards have our own stories?”

Sean smiled faintly. “We do. But the stars… they don’t belong to just us.”

Katie’s gaze wandered over the glittering expanse. She breathed in deeply, the air cold in her lungs but sweet with the scent of pine drifting from the forest. “I could stay out here all night.”

“Same,” Sean murmured. After a pause, he added, “Do you remember what my favorite constellation is?”

Katie turned her head to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but something about his voice sent a flutter through her chest.

“I… I don’t think you ever told me,” she said softly.

He hesitated. “I did. Once. When we were kids. Before—before everything changed.”

Her eyes scanned the constellation map, the golden threads gliding gently overhead. A strange, familiar rhythm stirred deep inside her, like a melody she hadn’t heard in years but somehow still knew. The stars seemed to pull her gaze eastward until she found it — a small, delicate shape strung with light.

“Lyra,” she whispered.

Sean’s eyes softened. “Yeah.”

Her brow furrowed. “It’s Lyra because… my mom taught me to play. The lyre. And I always practiced with you.”

Sean nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. “You remembered.”

Katie swallowed. “I didn’t know I had. It just felt… right.”

“She was always humming,” he said, voice low, as though afraid the night might steal the memory away. “Even when we were in the garden. You’d play those same notes over and over again, trying to match her.”

Katie’s chest tightened. “And you’d hum with me when I forgot.”

Sean’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “We made our own kind of music.”

They lay in comfortable silence, the stars above quietly burning. Somewhere at the edge of her vision, a streak of light darted across the sky — a shooting star. But unlike others she’d seen, it lingered too long before winking out, leaving behind a faint shimmer that made her blink. When she looked again, the space was empty, as though nothing had been there at all.

Sean’s hand brushed against hers, pulling her focus back. “You look happy,” he said.

Katie turned to meet his gaze. “I am.”

“Good,” he murmured.

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her jawline, and his eyes searched hers in a way that made her feel entirely seen — all of her, not just the parts she was comfortable sharing.

When she gave a small, shy nod, he leaned in and kissed her. It was unhurried at first, warm and grounding, before deepening into something more. He shifted, rolling gently to brace himself over her, one hand buried in her hair, the other steady beside her. The blanket rustled softly under them, the cool earth beneath making every point of contact between them burn warmer.

Katie clung to his shoulders, her heart thrumming in sync with the night around them. She gasped softly when his lips grazed the curve of her neck, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. The air seemed to thin, until there was nothing left but the sound of his breath and the pounding of her pulse.

When they finally paused, foreheads resting together, Sean’s voice came low and reverent. “I love you.”

Katie’s smile trembled but held. “And I love you.”

They lay there, the cold kept at bay by the heat between them. Above, Lyra shimmered, steady and silent, as if listening to every unspoken word.

Chapter Text

The morning sun peeked through the tall windows of the Hall of Seasons as Ilvermorny students trickled in for breakfast. Though the Quidditch win had passed, its celebratory glow lingered in the air, evident in the lively chatter echoing off stone walls.

Katie sat between Sean and Lucien at the Horned Serpent table, idly stirring her tea more than she ate. The celebration’s warmth was all around her, but it didn’t quite seep in the way it did for everyone else. Ever since the battle with the Shadow entity, something had rooted itself deep inside her—a weight that wasn’t just in her bones, but in her soul.

She was still herself, still smiling when she needed to, but in the spaces between laughter, the memory pressed in like cold air under a door. The drain from wielding her magic that night had mostly faded from her body… but her mind and heart still carried the echo.

Across from her, Camden was animatedly recounting the game to a few wide-eyed first-years, wielding a slice of toast like a Beater’s bat.

“And then, just when the Bludger came at me like it had my name etched into its hide, I twisted midair and—”

“Knocked yourself into the goalpost,” Nick said flatly, turning the page of today’s newspaper.

“Details!” Camden declared, flicking a grape at her. “Every great story has a little bloodshed.”

Lucien smiled. “I am a sucker for ‘romantic tragedies.’”

Gabby snatched the grape effortlessly and smirked at Camden. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Katie smiled faintly, but her thoughts drifted back to the darkness of the forest, to the way magic had surged through her like a storm she barely contained.

Sean leaned over, his arm brushing hers. “You okay?”

She nodded absently. “Yeah. Just… tired. Thinking.”

Gabby leaned closer with a grin that spelled trouble. “Still thinking about last night? You two were out for hours. I was about to send a search party—or an engagement ring.”

Katie’s blush deepened. Camden jumped in, eyes gleaming. “Didn’t return until what—midnight? Katie’s hair was wild enough to be declared a fire hazard. Sean looked like he’d finally figured out how to smile properly. Took him over sixteen years.”

“Can we start planning the wedding now?” Gabby added with a flourish.

Sean remained entirely unfazed as he sliced fruit with deliberate calm. “Sure. But you’ll be contributing to the cake fund.”

“Oh, I’ll do one better,” Camden said, slapping the table. “I call Best Man.”

Gabby leaned in conspiratorially. “Or should we be planning the baby shower instead?”

Katie promptly choked on a piece of fruit. Sean handed her water without batting an eye.

“Wouldn’t be opposed to registry suggestions,” he added dryly.

Gabby howled with laughter, while Katie sank lower in her seat, wishing for an invisibility cloak.

“Anyone else see this?” Nick said, interrupting.

Gabby asked, wiping the teardrop from her eye. “See what?”

“There was an attempted break-in at Congress,” Nick said, tapping the paper. “Looks like someone tried to access the Pendulum.”

Katie sat up a little straighter. “The Pendulum?”

“It’s this big magical artifact that controls temporal harmony—like, keeps time on track,” Nick explained. “If someone messed with it, they could literally tamper with reality. Time loops, alternate futures, erasing people from existence. That kind of thing.”

“That's cheery,” Camden muttered.

“Why would anyone try to mess with that?” Lucien asked, concern flickering in his expression.

“Don’t know,” Nick replied, folding the paper. “But it says the culprits vanished before they could be identified. Ministry officials are ‘investigating all anomalies.’”

Katie met Sean’s eyes. Something unspoken passed between them—worry, recognition, and that familiar pull that their story wasn’t quite done.

Later that day, Katie entered the warm, parchment-scented library. Shafts of late-afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall arched windows, pooling in golden shapes across the tables. Dust motes drifted lazily in the air, and the faint scratch of quills on parchment mingled with the occasional rustle of turning pages.

She immediately spotted Nick seated alone at one of the long tables near the back, an open book in front of him but his eyes not moving across the page. He glanced up at her approach, and after a brief hesitation, he motioned her over with a slight tilt of his head.

Katie walked over slowly, weaving between chairs, her boots soft against the worn rug. She slid into the seat across from him, setting her bag down beside the chair.

“How are you doing?” she asked, voice low.

Nick’s eyes flicked toward the book again, though he still hadn’t turned a page. “I'm fine.”

“Really?” She leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on the table. “Ever since… that day, you’ve seemed... not you.”

He was quiet for a long moment, fingers worrying at the edge of a page. “I am different.” His tone wasn’t bitter, just tired. “It’s like… everything’s still here, but it doesn’t fit right anymore. My magic feels off. Some days I can’t cast something simple without it fizzling, and when I do, it feels heavier—like I’m pulling it from further away.”

Katie’s chest tightened, remembering the Transfiguration lesson she had watched him struggle. “Nick, I didn’t know it would—”

“I know.” He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “You saved my life. I’m still grateful.”

Her hands curled around the edge of the table. “If I could take the weight off you, I would. All of it.”

A faint, tired smile tugged at his mouth. “I believe you. I think I just need to figure out who I am now.”

Katie nodded slowly, though the unease in her chest didn’t fade. She stood slowly.

“I wanted to say something,” Nick began, his tone lower than usual. His fingers toyed with the corner of the book, like he was buying himself time. “At the beginning of the year… back when everything happened with the magic incidents… I was skeptical. Distant. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Katie blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity. “Thanks?” she said, the uncertainty in her voice softening into curiosity.

Nicholas’s gaze held hers for a moment before he nodded. “Gabby always believed in you. Took me longer. I guess…” His jaw shifted slightly, like the next words weren’t easy to say. “Maybe it was when you… you know. Or maybe it’s just… seeing how you carry all this. How you keep going.”

Something in her chest tightened—not painfully, but with the weight of being seen.

Katie gave a small, genuine smile. “I’m still figuring it out, too. But I’m so happy I get to have you as a friend.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was the kind that felt like a fragile truce, like a bridge they’d just managed to build after months of skirting the edges.

Nick leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath. “If you ever need a friend who’ll give you the truth, even if it’s not pretty, you can come to me.”

Katie smirked faintly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I can’t promise I won’t argue with you about it.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Chapter Text

Defense Against the Dark Arts was unusually tense that morning. Professor Nox stood at the front of the dueling platform, arms folded, as he read off the partnered pairs.

“Daley. Blackwell.”

Katie’s stomach dropped.

Dorian Blackwell gave her a slow, smug grin as he sauntered up to the platform. “Looks like I get another crack at the school’s favorite freak.”

Katie didn’t respond. She took her position, wand raised, eyes steady.

“Begin,” Professor Nox said, stepping aside.

The duel was sharp from the start. Spells flew—Stupefy, Protego, Expelliarmus—all cast cleanly and with precision. Dorian’s hexes were aggressive, but Katie kept her focus, deflecting each one with calm confidence.

“What’s the matter?” Dorian sneered as he sent a jinx toward her. “Scared you might blast the classroom to hell again?”

Katie blocked it with a clean shield charm. “No. I just don't need to waste all my magic on you.”

The class murmured at her calm retort. Dorian scowled and doubled down, launching two spells in quick succession. Katie ducked the first and countered the second with a powerful, silent disarming spell.

His wand flew from his hand and clattered across the floor. He stared after it in disbelief.

Professor Nox raised a hand. “Match over. Daley wins.”

The class clapped—some politely, others with genuine enthusiasm.

Dorian stomped toward the far side of the room, grumbling under his breath. Katie picked up her bag and walked past him, pausing just enough to speak softly.

“You don’t need to be a jerk to feel like you matter,” she said. “You could be someone better than this... if you wanted to be.”

He froze for a moment. Something flickered in his expression—not anger exactly, but something raw, like a thread of doubt tugging at his practiced scowl. Then he scoffed and turned away, quieter than usual.

Katie turned and gathered her books.

Professor Nox passed her on his way to the desk. “Excellent wand work,” he said quietly. “And a fine example of standing your ground without losing control.”

Katie blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Professor.”

When she stepped into the corridor, Sean and Gabby were waiting by the door.

“You were incredible,” Gabby beamed, linking her arm with Katie’s.

Sean added, “I wanted to hex him for the things he said. You handled him perfectly.”

Katie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Thanks, guys.”

That evening in the common room, Katie sat near the fireplace with her friends when a soft sound caught her attention—a quiet, muffled sobbing from the far corner.

She followed the sound until she spotted a small first-year girl curled near one of the tall windows, a tiny clay pot in her lap and tears streaking her face.

Katie knelt beside her. “Hey… are you okay?”

The girl sniffled and shook her head, clutching the pot. Inside was a wilted, shriveled plant.

“I’m sorry,” Katie said gently. “I’m terrible with names… you’re…?”

“Sara,” the girl mumbled. “Sara Waters.”

Katie nodded. “Hi, Sara. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Sara wiped her eyes. “My Memere gave me this plant. From her garden. But… she died before Christmas. And I didn’t take care of it. I didn’t mean to let it die.”

Katie’s heart ached. She sat down beside her. “I’m really sorry about your Memere. I’m sure she loved you a lot.”

Sara nodded, tears welling again. “She did. She said the plant would keep her close. And I forgot to water it. I let her down.”

Katie reached out and touched the dry soil with her fingertips.

Magic pulsed gently from her hand. A faint glow shimmered through the pot. The plant stirred—its stem straightening, leaves unfolding, green returning to the brittle edges. A small bud bloomed, soft and pink.

Sara gasped. “You… you saved it.”

Katie smiled softly. “Take care of her now. Every time you water it, you’re giving her more love. That’s how you keep her close.”

Sara clutched the pot to her chest, smiling through her tears. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Katie gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder and turned to head back to the common area.

Standing a few feet away was Sean, arms crossed, a quiet smile on his face. He’d seen the whole thing.

“You are… amazing,” he said, stepping closer.

Katie’s cheeks turned pink. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Sean shook his head, cupping her face gently like he was holding something sacred. “That’s the thing. It always is, with you.”

She stepped into his arms, and he pulled her close, resting his chin on her head.

In that moment, with the fireplace crackling behind them and stars beginning to glitter beyond the tall windows, Katie felt more grounded than ever.

The sun was low and golden over the Carrow estate’s garden, washing the apple tree in light. Katie sat cross-legged in the grass, weaving clovers into a crooked chain. Sean — just eight, his hair already catching the sun like spun silver — was frowning at a shallow scrape on his knee.

“I told you not to climb the stone wall,” Katie said, glancing up. “You always fall.”

“I don’t always fall,” Sean muttered, though his voice wavered. “It stings.”

Katie abandoned her clover chain and scooted closer, brushing dirt from his skin. “Hold still.” She cupped her hands around the scrape like she’d seen her mum do with cuts. “My mum says if you think about the hurt going away, sometimes it does.”

Sean smirked faintly. “That’s not real magic.”

“Maybe not,” she said, “but I’m still going to help.”

She tore a strip from the hem of her play dress — Sean’s eyes widened at the act — and tied it gently around his knee. “There. Fixed.”

Sean looked at her for a long moment, like he wasn’t just seeing her but understanding something about her. “You always make things better,” he said quietly.

Katie smiled. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I would,” Sean agreed without hesitation. “I always will.”

From the manor, his mother’s voice floated across the garden, calling them in. But Sean lingered just a moment longer, his pinky brushing hers until she linked it.

“Pinky promise,” he said.

Katie grinned. “Pinky promise.”

Chapter Text

Spring had settled fully over Ilvermorny, coaxing blooms from the trees and filling the air with the sweet scent of awakening life. The castle’s stone walls seemed softer under the sun’s warmer gaze, ivy trailing lazily in the breeze. The grounds shimmered with new color—patches of wildflowers dotted the hillsides like confetti, and the once-harsh mountain winds had mellowed into gentle currents that carried pollen, birdsong, and the laughter of students lingering between lessons.

Even with spirits lifted, classes remained relentless. In the sunlit greenhouse of Magical Botany, the air was thick with humidity and the tang of earth and magic. Rows of peculiar plants shifted and rustled as students moved among them—some snapping their leaves shut defensively, others swaying as if curious about the newcomers.

Katie stood at one of the wide potting benches, elbow-deep in enchanted soil that shimmered faintly like powdered starlight. She was helping coax a rare bloom called Aurelia Empathica into opening—its golden petals responding only to genuine care and emotional connection. Her fingers moved slowly, smoothing the soil around its delicate roots, her touch deliberate and gentle.

Professor Greer observed from a few steps away, her eyes narrowing in approval. “Excellent, Miss Daley. You’re not forcing it, you’re listening to it. That’s why it trusts you.”

As if in agreement, the plant gave a faint shiver, then flushed with a warm, molten glow. Its petals unfurled in a soft cascade of gold, releasing a faint fragrance that reminded Katie of honey and old parchment.

From the next bench over, Gabby leaned over her own pot, chin propped in her hand, grinning like she’d been waiting for the perfect moment. “It’s just responding to all the love you’ve been bottling up.”

Katie looked up, brow arched. “Unlike you, I’m not making out with someone every spare moment.”

Gabby’s grin widened into something dangerously smug. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Katie.” She flicked a speck of soil from her fingertip like she’d just delivered a finishing blow.

Katie snorted softly, returning her focus to the bloom. “Please. If I wanted to be attached at the hip to someone, I’d—” She caught herself, realizing the end of that sentence was too revealing, and quickly changed course. “—have to develop a lot more patience than I currently possess.”

Professor Greer moved past them, adjusting the angle of a sunlamp over another student’s plant, though Katie noticed the professor’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary—as if she’d seen something she wasn’t commenting on.

Katie brushed her thumb lightly over the soft inner curve of the golden petal. The Aurelia shivered again, sending out another warm pulse of color. Somewhere deep in her chest, she felt it—a gentle echo of the plant’s calm contentment, like a ripple through still water.

It reminded her, faintly, of the way healing magic felt in her hands.

She let her touch linger, absorbing the quiet connection, before glancing sideways at Gabby. “Not jealous,” she murmured, “just… more selective.”

Gabby smirked without looking up from her own plant. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Later in the day, Katie and Sean walked through the quieter upper halls between classes, their steps echoing softly off the polished stone. The corridor was bathed in afternoon light spilling through tall windows, turning the dust motes into drifting flecks of gold.

Sean had been recounting a particularly ridiculous Charms mishap from first year when a sound—light, breathy, and unmistakably mischievous—broke through the stillness.

A giggle.

Katie slowed mid-step, head tilting toward the sound. Sean stopped beside her, brows knitting. “Do you hear that?”

She nodded, following the faint noise to a heavy velvet curtain drawn across a recessed alcove. The deep maroon fabric swayed just slightly, as though stirred by movement from within.

Katie shot Sean a curious look. “Who hangs out behind a curtain up here?”

Sean’s mouth quirked in a smirk. “I have a feeling we already know.”

Suppressing a laugh, Katie crept forward and carefully drew the curtain back a few inches. Dim light pooled inside the alcove, illuminating a scene so vivid it made her slap a hand over her mouth to stifle the squeak of delight that escaped.

There, framed by the narrow arch and a scatter of old portraits on the wall, were Camden and Gabby—utterly oblivious to the world. Gabby’s fingers were tangled deep in Camden’s hair, pulling him closer, while his arms locked securely around her waist. The kiss they were sharing wasn’t the sort you’d mistake for a friendly peck; it was the kind that said the rest of the castle could crumble away and they wouldn’t notice until the dust settled.

Katie’s eyes widened in amused shock. Sean leaned in, so close his breath tickled her ear. “So…” he murmured, “…do we interrupt, or keep this as ammunition for later?”

Katie snorted softly behind her hand. “Oh, we are absolutely getting them back. Publicly.”

Sean’s smirk deepened. “With witnesses?”

“Preferably,” she whispered, eyes dancing. “And maybe props.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the prospect. But before she could elaborate, Camden shifted just enough that Katie feared they might be spotted. With a quick tug to Sean’s sleeve, she backed away, letting the curtain fall shut in one smooth motion.

As they walked off down the hall, Sean murmured, “So… double date dinner and suggestive toasts?”

Katie grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of dramatically reenacting what we saw… in front of them… in the Hall.”

Sean chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head. “You’re more dangerous than you look, Daley.”

“You learned this just now?” She said, tucking her hands into her robe pockets, her step just a little lighter.

By dinnertime, Katie and Sean had already begun their playful revenge. It started with well-placed charm spells and enchanted parchment notes suggesting a surprise inspection from the Headmistress. It also involved a mild itching hex Camden wouldn't be able to shake for at least an hour.

When Gabby’s robe turned hot pink mid-meal, she looked around suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Katie said sweetly, exchanging a mischievous glance with Sean.

Camden squirmed in his seat, trying to subtly scratch his side. “I swear I’m going to get both of you back.”

Sean leaned forward calmly. “By the way,” he said with a smirk, “nice choice of hiding spot. Very... theatrical.”

Katie added, “You might want to pick somewhere with better sound insulation next time.”

“Am I missing something?” Nick asked, stern but curious.

Gabby blushed fiercely while Camden groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You heard us?”

“Saw you too,” Katie said with mock innocence. “But don’t worry—we were very impressed.”

She then loudly whispered to Sean, “See? I'm not the only one with a blushing problem!”

“Nevermind.” Nick's attention fell back to his plate, piecing the conversation together.

Sean sat back, and while Katie was taking a bite of pudding, he traced his finger softly above her knee. She gasped loudly, nearly dropping her spoon, and turned crimson from the gentle touch.

Sean smiled and whispered, “You’re better at it.”

Laughter spread around the table, and the hall buzzed with light conversation—until the doors opened and Professor Bellamy entered, his expression grim, carrying a rolled-up edition of the wizarding newspaper.

The laughter in the hall dimmed, like the walls themselves were holding their breath.

Whispers grew as the paper passed from professor to professor before a seventh-year student near the front of the hall summoned it to their table, who gasped aloud.

“Look at this!”

Nick picked up the copy of the newspaper he’d brought with him and flattened it out. Sprawled across the front page in bold print: ‘Time Turner Missing from Archives – Ministry Investigating Possible Temporal Breach’.

Katie’s breath caught in her chest. She turned to Sean with wide eyes. “Do you think... this is connected to the Pendulum incident?”

“It's too… I don't know… obvious to be a coincidence,” Lucien said seriously.

Sean’s jaw tensed. He gave a slight nod, his expression darkening. “If someone used a Time Turner wrong… it might explain the Pendulum surge.”

Katie frowned and quickly reached for another pudding, more for something to hold than to eat.

Before the table could settle into quiet, Gabby leaned across and snatched the abandoned paper. She looked at the bottom of the page and gasped again, then tapped a garishly colorful advertisement at the bottom. “Ooh! New lingerie shop opening in the village!”

She grinned, then gently nudged Katie’s knee with her foot. “Which one do you think Sean would like best?”

Katie choked on her pumpkin juice as Gabby pointed to a scandalously skimpy red lace set.

Camden leaned in, grinning. “Sean’s too serious for lingerie. He probably prefers parchment and quills.”

Sean gave a cool, unfazed smirk. “Only if the lingerie has subtle embroidery that references ancient runes. Or Celtic knots.”

Lucien snatched the abandoned paper. “Hold up, did that ad say ‘satin that sings?’ Because if it starts crooning mid-date, I’m out.”

Nick glanced over his tea. “It’s always the sentient fabric that ruins the moment.”

Lucien nodded solemnly. “One time I wore a self-pressing shirt and it started scolding me about posture.”

“Don’t even think about it, Luke,” Nick said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched with a smile.

Chapter Text

Breakfast in the Hall of Seasons was one of the best parts of the day — warm tea, waffles with strawberries, and a chance to wake up before class. This morning, the enchanted ceiling was awash with soft golden light, and the scent of cinnamon rolls drifted across the tables. A faint breeze rustled through the autumn leaves drifting above, carrying the lazy crackle of an enchanted fireplace at the far end.

Sean slid onto the bench beside her, reaching for the teapot. “Good morning,” he said, pouring himself a cup.

“Good morning,” Katie yawned sleepily with a smile.

“Morning,” Gabby and Camden said in unison from across the table, exchanging a glance so subtle it would have gone unnoticed — if Katie hadn’t caught the faintest twitch of a smirk. She narrowed her eyes.

The moment Katie took a sip of Earl Grey, it happened.

A loud POP! sounded right above her head, and suddenly a miniature flock of bright pink songbirds burst into existence, twittering cheerfully as they circled her.

Sean, mid-sip of his own, found himself hit with the second half of the jinx — his tea instantly fizzed into a mound of whipped cream that erupted from his cup like a geyser, splattering across everything including his face and uniform. A nearby first-year squeaked in alarm and dove under the table to avoid getting hit, while a fourth-year just leaned back, sipping her cocoa with a smirk like she’d seen it all before.

Katie coughed as one of the songbirds landed delicately in her hair and began to sing very loudly in perfect harmony with the others.

The nearby students turned to watch, giggling and pointing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sean muttered, swiping whipped cream from his face — only for it to instantly reappear like it was self-replenishing. “This stuff is multiplying.”

“Aw, you two look adorable,” Gabby said sweetly, clasping her hands like she was at a wedding.

Camden added, “Breakfast entertainment. You’re welcome.”

Katie scowled, brushing at her hair as another bird tried to nest in it. “Oh, just you wait,” she said darkly.

Sean simply reached for his wand, but Katie caught his wrist, a grin spreading despite herself. “No. Let them enjoy their tiny victory.”

From across the table, Gabby and Camden laughed just a little too hard at their own success, and Katie knew — the war was far from over.

Before Potions & Elixirs began, the classroom was still in its usual pre-class lull — the faint smell of dried nettles and burnt peppermint lingering in the air. Katie, Gabby, and Camden were already unpacking their supplies when Sean strolled in, feigning complete innocence.

“Just popping in to have a word with my dear uncle,” Sean said smoothly, leaning against Professor Bellamy’s desk. Bellamy, quill poised over parchment, gave him a long-suffering look.

Sean bent down to speak quietly with him, but as he turned to leave, he passed behind Gabby and Camden’s assigned potions stations. His wand flicked twice — barely visible — followed by the faintest sparkle of charmwork before disappearing into the air.

Katie caught it.

“What did you just do?” she asked under her breath.

Sean smirked, backing toward the door as the students shuffled in. “Enjoy class.”

Bellamy called the room to order. “Today we’ll be brewing a Calming Draught. Focus, precision, and—”

From Gabby’s station came a sudden swell of sound, loud enough to echo off the stone walls. A deep baritone voice — Bellamy’s exact voice — burst forth in perfect operatic vibrato:

“Foooocus… preeecisioooon… annnd discipline, Miss Huaaang!”

The class erupted in snickers. Gabby froze, her ladle mid-stir. “I didn’t—” she began, but her cauldron cut her off, joining in with a high soprano harmony:

“Or your draught will tuuurn to—MUD!”

Camden’s station picked up the melody immediately, his cauldron and mortar performing a booming duet of Bellamy’s most oft-repeated lines:

“Con-cent-ra-tion, Mr. Tay-lor! Cauldrons are not soup pots!”

A Pukwudgie boy in the back was laughing so hard he dropped an entire jar of dried valerian root, and the enchanted cleaning storm cloud drifted in from the corridor, rumbling along with the tune while gusting over the mess.

By now, half the class was doubled over, and Katie had her face buried in her sleeve to hide her laughter.

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose, muttered something about “musical hooligans,” and silenced the performance with a sharp finite incantatem. He shot Gabby and Camden a withering glare.

“Since you’re both so inspired by the arts, you can sing your apologies while you clean up — without magic.” 

Professor Bellamy shot Katie a look of irritation and knowing. She swore she heard Sean’s muffled chuckle echoing from somewhere just outside the door.

Later, Katie discovered the retaliation while on her way to Charms, when her uniform shirt went from it's dark grey to scandalously translucent in the middle of the main hallway. The gasp from a passing second-year tipped her off.

Sean, walking a few steps behind, nearly tripped over his own boots when he saw her undergarments on display underneath her school robe. “I—uh—you should probably fix that,” he stammered, spinning around so fast it was a wonder he didn’t sprain his neck.

Mortified, Katie dashed into the nearest maintenance closet, slamming the door shut behind her. She refused to come out until Gabby herself appeared—laughing so hard she was crying—and lifted the jinx.

“I hate you,” Katie growled as Gabby dabbed at her eyes.

“Love you too,” Gabby sang.

Naturally, Sean was quick to suggest payback, and Katie wasn’t about to say no. With his knack for potion-brewing and her precision charmwork, they managed to spike Camden’s shampoo with a particularly tenacious color-altering solution. The next morning, Camden strode into the Great Hall blissfully unaware—until Gabby shrieked.

“You look like a kelpie in molting season!” she cried, hands clamped over her mouth.

Confused, Camden yanked a strand of glowing neon green hair into view. “It won’t wash out?!”

Lucien, strolling by while snacking on an apple, smirked. “Glows in the dark, too. I checked. A nice callback to last week’s Magical Creatures lecture.”

Katie and Sean high-fived, satisfied.

From there, the days passed but the retaliation became a kind of unspoken sport. Camden retaliated by charming Katie’s cauldron to meow loudly whenever it boiled—followed by an indignant hiss at anyone who got too close.

Lucien and Nick joined the fray by enchanting all of Camden’s quills to shout truly awful love poetry every time he tried to write. (“Ode to My Breakfast Oats” was a particular masterpiece, loudly declared during History of Magic.)

Sean was far from spared—one morning during Defense class, he flicked his wand at a dueling dummy only to discover it had been replaced with a very large, very edible licorice stick that exploded into sweet bits. Camden, sitting nearby, was the only one chewing happily.

Gabby’s revenge came when her shoes were jinxed to break into a salsa routine mid-corridor, forcing her to cha-cha her way between classes while students either cheered, laughed, or mimicked. Even the enchanted storm cloud drifted over her, sprinkling light “confetti rain” to match the rhythm.

Somehow, between the ambushes, classes carried on. In Magical Theory, Professor Thimble gave a stern lecture on causality and the dangers of time manipulation, his pointed glances at their table leaving little doubt who he thought was most likely to cause a paradox.

By dinner, the six of them were swapping exaggerated retellings of the week’s pranks over raspberry pastries, only pausing when Professor Bellamy passed and muttered something about needing “a Ministry-approved vacation.”

That night, the white flag was waved—at least according to Katie.

In the shower rooms, her voice rang out through the steam and tile. “Truce!” she called toward the boys’ side.

Gabby laughed as she unfastened her towel. “You really think they’ll—”

POP!

A sharp explosion echoed off the walls, followed by a glittering avalanche of sparkling dust raining down from the other side of the divider.

“What the—!” Camden spluttered. “It’s everywhere!”

Lucien’s voice floated over, not nearly apologetic enough. “Okay… I might have forgotten about that one.”

Sean’s laugh—loud, genuine, and unguarded—rolled through the showers.

“Did Sean just laugh?” Katie whispered, grinning at Gabby.

A sharp WHIP! echoed next.

“OW! Truce! Truce!” Lucien shouted.

“At least I love sparkles, Cam!” Gabby called back, shaking the glitter from her hair.

The laughter carried on, mingling with the shimmer of drifting dust until the prank war ended—not with surrender, but with joy, magic, and the kind of ridiculous chaos only friends could survive together.

Chapter Text

Spring had fully embraced Mount Greylock, and as the Spring Formal approached, excitement buzzed through the student body like a Hybridean Black amongst a field of wheat.

“I still think we should match,” Gabby declared as they strolled past the bakery’s open windows, the scent of warm brioche drifting out. “Coordinated colors. It’s a power move.”

“Power move or coordinated embarrassment?” Camden countered, raising an eyebrow.

Sean smirked. “Definitely overkill. And Camden would just sulk the whole night.”

Katie laughed softly, tucking a stray auburn strand behind her ear. “You just don’t want to see Camden in a quirky tie.”

Lucien grinned instantly. “One covered in puffskeins wearing monocles. Classy and unsettling.”

Camden groaned. “I’d rather wear dragon hide.”

“Noted,” Lucien replied. “Dragon-print tie it is.”

“You're all ridiculous,” Nick shook his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “And now I’m picturing it.”

The cobblestone streets of Wendalin’s Hollow bustled with shoppers, their voices mingling with the distant chime of the clock tower. Shop signs swung gently in the breeze, painted letters catching the sunlight.

“Oooh!” Gabby stopped so abruptly that Camden nearly walked into her. She pointed to a rose-painted storefront where gold lettering read Belle et Magique. “We have to go in! Their lip charms last all day.”

Katie shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, glancing toward the other end of the street where the warm glow of the bookstore beckoned. “Maybe you and Lucien can check it out. I was going browse the bookstore for a bit.”

Gabby fixed her with a look. “Katie Daley, it’s one boutique. You can read about magical history anytime.”

Katie hesitated, torn between a wall of musty first editions and the inevitable glitter storm awaiting them. “You’re not going to let me escape this, are you?”

“Nope,” Gabby said cheerfully, looping her arm through Katie’s and tugging her toward the door. “Books later. Pretty potions now.”

“Have fun, ladies!” Camden waved mockingly.

As Gabby pulled the entrance handle, a door across the way flew open, startling Katie and Gabby.

“This is the last time I’ll tell you,” the shopkeeper said sharply, arms crossed over his tie. “The handle you purchased was oak! Definitely NOT silver!”

The woman huffed, throwing her hands in the air. Her heel struck the cobblestones with a sharp stomp. “Don’t talk to me as if I’m imagining things,” she retorted. “I remember exactly what I bought!”

As they continued, Katie glanced at the direction of the boys. They had stopped in their tracks, also.

“I don't blame her,” Gabby said as she tugged Katie into the stop. “I wouldn't want an oak handle either.”

Gabby's eyes lit up, flicking from one display to the others like a child in a world-famous candy store.

“I need the perfect lipstick,” Gabby declared as she tugged at Katie. “Something that says ‘mysterious enchantress’ without screaming ‘I hex my exes.’”

Katie laughed, letting herself be dragged. “That specific, huh?”

“Very,” Gabby said with a wink when they reached the display.

After choosing two shades of pink, a table of sparkling powders caught Gabby's eye.

“Come on, Gabby,” Katie sighed. “You own more sparkles than a glitter fairy.”

Gabby smiled knowingly, bending over to inspect them one by one.

Katie sighed, rocking herself from side to side. She adjusted serpent charm so it was facing the correct direction.

The owner of the beauty boutique walked by. “Hey! I remember you!” She looked around Katie. “Where’s your daughter today?”

Katie blinked. “I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Don’t tease!" The woman laughed, "I don’t see many with that hair color.”

Katie shook her head. “I don’t have a daughter, ma’am. I’m a student at Ilvermorny.”

The shopkeeper smiled, scanning the shop. “The little blonde girl? What was her name… Oh! Lila!”

The bell dangling above the door jingled as Sean stepped in.

“What’s taking so long?”

The shopkeeper lit up and pointed. “And that is most definitely Lila’s father!”

Katie quickly said, “Thank you,” and turned, pushing Sean backwards out the door. Gabby followed after paying, eyes wide.

“That was odd,” Gabby said under her breath.

“Tell me about it,” Katie looked at the ground.

The boys were already outside, looking far too pleased with themselves.

“Anyone interested in a chocolate frog or pop rocks?” Lucien asked, straightening when he spotted Katie and Gabby emerging from Belle et Magique.

A few doors down, the enchanted candy shop’s windows glowed warmly, displaying shelves lined with talking lollipops that recited terrible jokes and sugar cubes that floated lazily in midair before melting into your tea with a soft fizz. The air outside already smelled faintly of caramel and cinnamon, luring passersby in like a charm.

Sean nodded toward the shop. “They’ve also got those fizzing cocoa beans that make your voice squeaky for an hour.”

Camden smirked. “Perfect for you, Lucien.”

Lucien shot him a look. “Says the guy who sneezed glitter for a week.”

Katie hid a soft smile behind her wrist as they walked inside. The bell above the door chimed with a short tune of plucked harp strings. Warm light spilled over glass jars packed with shimmering candies, rainbow-swirled toffees that changed flavor mid-bite, and licorice vines that wiggled gently in escape when someone reached for them.

Gabby gravitated to a display of star-shaped bonbons that glittered like frost, while Camden pretended to study a box of fizzing sherbet drops but kept sneaking glances at the floating sugar cubes. Sean browsed the wall of chocolate frogs, carefully reading each collectible wizard card before deciding.

Lucien, naturally, sampled one of the talking lollipops. “Why did the cauldron cross the road?” it asked cheerfully.

“Why?” he played along.

“To get to the witch’s house!” it squeaked before dissolving into cackles.

Lucien groaned. “I think it’s past the expiration date.”

By the time they emerged from the shop—Katie with a small paper bag of candied appleblossoms, Gabby carrying a pastel box tied with a ribbon, and Lucien already chewing something suspiciously sparkly—the afternoon sun had shifted, casting long beams across the cobblestones.

“Next stop,” Lucien announced, pointing to a corner shop with a crooked sign reading 'Peculiarities & Oddments'. Its window display was a jumble of eccentricities: a hat that sprouted tiny spinning thorns, a self-stirring teacup, socks patterned with miniature moving portraits, and an hourglass that flowed upwards.

Gabby grinned. “This place looks almost dangerous.”

Sean’s lips curved faintly. “Or exactly your kind of shop.”

Without further discussion, the group drifted toward the door, the promise of more strange and wonderful discoveries pulling them along.

Camden made for the large hat rack in a few short strides. “Sean, what do you think?” He asked, holding up a hat with glittering antlers. “Too subtle?”

“Only if you’re trying to impress a unicorn,” Sean replied, completely deadpan.

Camden mockingly gasped. “You wound me, sir!”

Next door was the small potion and elixir shop, its sign painted with curling silver letters that shimmered faintly in the light. Inside, shelves curved along the walls, each lined with glass bottles in every color imaginable—some glowing faintly, others swirling with slow-moving clouds or glitter-like particles. The air was thick with scents both sweet and sharp, like honey mingled with mint and something faintly metallic.

“What are you looking for?” Katie asked.

“The sparkling and scented elixirs.”

When a few sparkles caught her eye, Gabby practically towed Katie toward the display, each vial labeled with names like ‘Moonlight Radiance’ and ‘Gilded Glamour’. She was already uncorking a tester of something pale gold, tipping a drop onto her wrist to watch it glisten.

“You sure you don’t want to try anything?” Gabby asked, offering Katie a small crystal vial.

Katie glanced toward the door—specifically at Sean, who was leaning on the railing outside, laughing at something Lucien had just said. “Maybe… just something simple.”

Gabby’s grin was all triumph. “I’ve got just the blend.” She plucked a vial of soft rose-colored potion from the shelf, its surface shimmering as if sprinkled with stardust.

They made their way to the register.

“Would you like a bag, miss?” The woman behind the counter smiled, her apron dampened, likely from the potions she had been working on in the back room.

“No thanks,” Katie said as she glanced down at the one on her arm.

“Have a nice day, girls!”

The guys stood outside waiting again. Lucien was hunched over coughing, clutch a half-eaten licorice stick and showering the cobblestones in glitter.

“I warned you not to use it as a straw,” Nick lingered beside him, the faintest hint of worry in his stance.

When the coughing fit had mostly subsided, everyone agreed to a final stop at The Burrowing Badger.

As they passed a narrow alley, loud voices echoed off the stone walls.

“I’m telling you for the last time,” the shopkeeper snapped, “it had a oak handle—not silver!”

The woman threw up her hands, her heel striking the cobblestone. “Don’t treat me like I’m daft—I remember what I bought!”

Katie slowed her steps, her brow furrowing. The words, the tone… They’d passed this same screaming match earlier.

The shopkeeper’s cheeks flushed with anger. “You got your refund already—what more do you want from me!?”

Gabby blinked. “Didn’t they have the same argument earlier?”

Camden nodded. “They did. Maybe two or three hours ago... right here."

They continued walking in a heavy, awkward silence until reaching the cozy wizard café. Butterbeer was ordered, almost in unison. Camden chugged as if it were the last beverage he would ever taste, foam clinging to his upper lip as he nearly broke the mug on the table. 

“Do you mind!?” Exclaimed an older man at the next table.

“Sorry,” Sean apologized, a sharp stare aimed directly at Camden.

The wizard turned back towards the blondr witch he accompanied.

After Camden ordered a second, they toasted to surviving their final exams and danced around jokes about the upcoming ball.

“You don't even know how to waltz,” Lucien stated.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who’d embarrass himself in front of a crowd?”

Camden leaned into the table and whispered, “He definitely practiced with a levitating mop.”

Katie choked on her drink.

As the group window-shopped while making their way to the village gate, Camden pulled Gabby into a spontaneous twirl in the middle of the square as the enchanted instruments strummed, drawing a small audience of amused onlookers. Lucien casually slipped his hand into Nick’s as they passed by a florist, picking out a bright sunflower.

Sean tugged Katie aside. “Walk with me?”

They strolled down a quieter path, the laughter of their friends fading into the background.

“Sean, there’s something wrong,” she said softly.

Sean looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that argument we passed by twice,” she stopped to meet his eyes. “Or even that woman in the shop earlier. The one who said you were a father...”

“Who wouldn’t be upset if the store messed up their order?” Sean said calmly, wearing his typical cool, collected smile. “And the shopkeeper was probably just mistaking me for someone else. It happens more than you’d think.”

A chill slid down Katie’s spine. 'Not to me.'

He squeezed her hand as they continued walking.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Sean asked, watching her face.

“I think so,” Katie replied. “Nervous, but excited. Kind of dumb for our second formal dance, isn't it?”

He smiled. “Whether it's the first or hundredth, you'll still be the most beautiful one there."

Katie blushed and looked down at her boots. “You’re biased.”

He stopped walking and gently lifted her chin. “Absolutely.”

They leaned into a soft kiss before being interrupted by Camden shouting, “Hey! No fair sneaking off for secret smooches!”

Sean replied, “Maybe you and Gabby can point out the best places to get caught making out!”

Katie buried her face in Sean’s shoulder as the rest of their group caught up, everyone donning wide grins except Nick.

As they passed the village clocktower, Katie glanced up and frowned. The hands were moving backward—slowly, then with a sudden jolt. The bells chimed once, twice... thirteen times.

Lucien looked up. “Uh. Pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen.”

Katie’s posture stiffened. “Has that ever done that before?”

Nick shook his head. “Not in any recorded magical disruption I’ve heard of.”

“Something’s wrong,” Sean quiet but firm. His eyes flicked quickly to Katie's as he realized she had beat him to the words sooner.

The sun had begun to set, painting the sky in soft purples and pinks. The group reached the gate and made their way back up to Ilvermorny—hearts light, arms full of shopping bags, and the underlying feeling something was out of order or unraveling.

Tomorrow would be a day to remember—but perhaps for reasons no one expected.

Chapter Text

The Hall of Seasons had been enchanted once again, this time to reflect a glimmering spring night, complete with hanging silver lanterns and enchanted flower petals drifting lazily through the air. Soft music drifted from a floating stage where instruments played themselves, accompanied by subtle charms that made the air feel warm and alive with magic. A faint scent of lilac hung in the air, blending with the warm notes of vanilla from the nearby refreshment tables.

Katie walked in beside Gabby, the two girls arm in arm. Katie’s dress shimmered like midnight—deep blue with silver embellishments that danced when she moved. Her red hair was curled and pinned back with small enchanted stars that twinkled on their own. Gabby wore a form-fitting pink satin gown, the kind that clung to the right spots and turned more than a few heads.

“I feel like a literal princess,” Gabby grinned, spinning once.

“You look like one,” Katie said, adjusting her serpent's knot nervously. The knot felt unusually warm against her skin tonight.

Camden, in a sparkling tux with a pink tie to match Gabby’s dress, gave a low whistle as the girls approached. “My date is officially the hottest person here.”

“Obviously,” Gabby replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Sean approached Katie from the crowd, dressed in a fitted all-black tux that made her heart thump. He looked her up and down, his normally guarded expression softening. “You’re stunning.”

Sean stepped closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Are you blushing again, Daley?”

Katie could barely brave a single nod.

Nearby, Nick had opted for something that could only be described as ‘wizarding literature professor chic,’ complete with tweed accents and an old-fashioned lapel pin. Lucien, of course, wore something more abstract: a blue and silver asymmetrical ensemble that defied fashion norms entirely and somehow still worked perfectly. He had already claimed a corner vantage point, casually observing the crowd with the air of someone who might be cataloging suspicious guests just for fun.

Even the enchanted storm had drifted in from one of the upper corridors, its silvery vapors more uniform, especially around the edges as though it had polished itself for the occasion. Instead of sweeping dust or collecting crumbs, it hovered over the dance floor, releasing tiny droplets of light that shimmered like falling stardust.

Every so often, the cloud gave a low, contented rumble—almost like it was humming along with the music. A few students laughed as it trailed after them, sprinkling faintly, causing the enchanted flower petals in their hair to bloom a little brighter.

Camden pointed it out to Katie with a grin. “Looks like even the janitor’s taking the night off.”

Gabby laughed. “If it starts doing the waltz, I’m totally getting a picture.”

As if on cue, the cloud puffed up, spun in a slow, dramatic circle, and sent a swirl of glittering condensation across the floor—eliciting a chorus of cheers from the nearby dancers.

Katie couldn’t help but smile. “I think it just upstaged half the couples here.”

They danced. They laughed. Friends mingled and shared jokes, took silly photos in front of a magically animated backdrop, and snuck desserts from the refreshment table when professors weren’t looking.

Lucien leaned over to Nick and pointed discreetly toward the edge of the room. “Agents,” he whispered. “They're definitely not just Magical Congress.”

Nick followed his gaze to three sharply dressed adults surveying the hall from opposite corners. The hourglass tokens at their collars glinted faintly under the floating lights.

As the group gathered at a nearby table for a rest, Katie reached for a fizzy fruit drink just as a single white flower in the center vase suddenly wilted before her eyes—drooping and browning—only to revive again seconds later. Then wilted once more. The cycle had an odd rhythm, like a heartbeat skipping.

She looked at Nick, who was already staring. “Did you see that?” she asked.

“Saw it,” he murmured. “And I’ve read enough Magical Theory to say... that’s not normal.”

A familiar small figure appeared near the edge of the crowd—William the Pukwudgie. He was wearing a tiny bowtie and held a buttercup in one hand.

“Well now,” he said in his usual flat tone, looking between Katie and Sean. “You two clean up well.”

Katie smiled, moving toward him slightly. “Thank you. And thank you for the flower... the one in the resin. It means more than I can say.”

William’s eyes softened in the slightest way. “Only fitting it stays preserved. A reminder that even Death can give life.” He paused, studying her as if measuring something only he could see. “It’s a gift and a burden, Katie. Don’t forget that.” Then he glanced at Sean and winked. “Keep this one close, boy.”

Before either of them could reply, William slipped back into the crowd, vanishing between the swish of gowns and the flash of candlelight.

At one point, Sean took Katie’s hand and led her away from the dance floor. They slipped through a side corridor that led out to a balcony overlooking the spring-lit grounds. The enchanted lanterns from inside cast a glow behind them, while the night air felt sweet and soft.

Sean conjured a small warming charm and wrapped his arms around her from behind. “You’re quiet.”

Katie leaned back against him. “It’s just… I don’t think I can go back to life before Ilvermorny. It feels like the real world is here now.”

Sean kissed her temple. “Then don’t. Spend some time over the summer with me. I’ll ask my parents.”

Katie turned in his arms, smiling faintly. “Would they allow that?”

“Of course they would. I'm sure they'd be thrilled to see you again.”

Their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. Sean’s hands were gentle, brushing the sides of her face, her shoulders, trailing kisses down to the curve of her neck. Katie’s breath caught, but she didn’t pull away. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“I love you more,” Sean murmured back, voice low and warm.

Back inside, Camden and Gabby were mock-dancing ridiculously to the beat of a fast-tempo song. Nick and Lucien had stolen a corner table and were deep in quiet conversation, hands occasionally brushing. Lucien’s gaze flicked casually to the dance floor between sentences, that same habit of watching the crowd.

As Katie and Sean returned to the hall, she caught sight of a couple passing by—laughing, hand in hand. Something about them tugged at her attention. A moment later, the same couple walked by again. Then again. Same clothes. Same laughter. Same exact steps.

“Did anyone else see that?” Katie murmured.

Lucien turned, brow furrowed. “Yeah. That couple’s on loop.”

Overhead, the floating candles flickered and warped. One melted upward, a thin stream of wax curling into a clock hand shape—then bending backward. A bouquet near the dessert table wilted and revived in rhythm, as if caught in a breathless loop. The music wavered, slowing as if played underwater before snapping back to tempo, and the air itself seemed to pulse.

As they passed a mirrored panel enchanted to show a dancing reflection, Katie noticed something unnerving—she and Sean appeared frozen while they moved. Her reflection blinked two beats behind.

The ballroom clock began to chime—not twelve, but thirteen slow, echoing gongs. With each toll, a faint tremor rippled underfoot. Conversations faltered. A hush fell over the dancers.

“That’s not right,” Nick muttered.

“Something’s wrong…with time,” Katie whispered, instinctively clutching Sean’s hand a little tighter.

Sean scanned the hall, his jaw tight. “We need to be ready.”

Katie nodded, her gaze sweeping the flickering room where magic danced—and time cracked at its seams. The warmth of the evening felt thinner now, fragile, like glass ready to shatter.

None of them knew what the future would bring. The future looked as if it was hovering aimless, but instead, it was dangling like a frayed thread.

And it was just about ready to snap.

Chapter Text

The final weeks at Ilvermorny passed in a whirlwind of exams, study sessions, and last-minute memories. Spring was fully in bloom, and the halls hummed with nervous energy as students scrambled to review notes, cram facts, and reread chapters.

Katie sat curled up beside Sean in the common room most evenings, her notes spread across his lap while he somehow managed to help her study and still ace his own exams. Gabby and Camden bickered over flashcards while Nick tutored Lucien in Transfiguration formulas. Sometimes, Sean would quietly slip her a piece of chocolate mid-revision, murmuring, “Brain fuel,” like it was a sacred ritual.

When the exams were over, scores were posted in the entrance hall, and the buzz of chatter exploded through the school.

Sean had received perfect scores across the board.

Katie caught the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he scanned the parchment. He didn’t brag, but the way his eyes flicked to her said enough: I told you we’d get through this. She kissed his cheek.

Nick reviewed his in the same manner, prompting Lucien to throw his hands in the air and say, “Well, I guess I’m dating a genius. Great. Now I can never win an argument again.”

Katie and Gabby both did excellent, scoring among the top percentile in their year.

Lucien grinned when he saw he passed everything with good marks—especially Potions, which had become his new favorite thanks to Nick.

Camden blinked at his score. “Hey. I passed.”

Gabby raised her eyebrows. “Barely.”

Camden held a hand to his heart. “Victory is still victory.”

Nick glanced up from his paper and smirked. “How were you even sorted into Horned Serpent?”

Camden looked mock-offended. “I’ll have you know, my serpentine intellect comes in bursts of brilliance. Like… fireflies. In a jar.”

“Some of them dead,” Gabby added sweetly.

They all laughed.

Katie found herself memorizing the sound of it—the familiar overlapping tones of her friends’ voices. She knew she’d miss this exact noise when the summer stretched long.

That night, Camden took out a deck of enchanted cards. “Oh boy! Do I have a game for you guys!”

They sat in a loose circle: Katie curled up beside Sean, Gabby with her legs draped over Camden’s lap, Nick nursing a butterbeer, and Lucien already giggling.

The cards had shimmered, hissed, and even snapped sassily depending on who played them.

“Round one!” Lucien announced, reading the first black card, “I never truly understood magic until I saw ____.”

“Professor Bellamy in pink fuzzy slippers.” Gabby giggled.

Katie smirked, “a boggart that turns into your ex's Howler.”

Nick placed his card. “A Niffler making a dramatic exit.”

“Camden trying to flirt.” Sean laid down his card, shooting Camden a look.

Camden snapped, “HEY!”

“Alright: the winner is… Sean. Because Camden flirting is technically chaos magic.”

Gabby chose the next prompt. “At Ilvermorny, detention now includes ____.”

“Feeding sass to the bathroom mirrors.” Lucien placed after an extra half-second of consideration.

“Polishing every suit of armor with your tears.” Katie sat back after dropping hers to the table.

Camden read, “therapy sessions with a judgmental poltergeist.”

Nick played, “interpreting Professor Bellamy’s dreams.”

Gabby smiled, “Katie wins. That one feels personal.”

Katie stared her down.

“Alright, my turn,” Camden drew. “In a shocking twist, the Horned Serpent common room was found to contain ____.”

Gabby added the card to the table. “An army of sentient quills unionizing.”

“Gabby’s secret shoe vault.” Lucien smiled.

Katie laughed at the last, “A swirling portal to Nicholas’s emotional repression.”

Nick shot a look to her, “really?”

Sean rolled his eyes and placed, “a shrine to Sean’s cheekbones.”

Camden tried to calm his laughter, “I’m torn between emotional repression and cheekbones.”

“Take both. They’re a set.” Nick said dryly.

“Katie wins. That portal idea is too real.”

“What ruined the Winter Ball?” Sean continued with the next draw.

Lucien started laughing before flicking the card to the table. “Katie panic-flirting with three people in ten minutes.”

Nick smirked at Katie, placing his own choice. “A misfired spell that turned the orchestra into frogs.”

Camden looked at Gabby feigning an innocent stare, “Gabby fighting a mirror over her dress.”

“Sean looking too good and emotionally unavailable.” Nick read Gabby’s card for her while she silently scolded Camden.

“Lucien wins.”

Katie turned bright red. “Jerk.”

“Final tally! Katie wins with two. Sean and Lucien both have one.”

“As always, I bring the drama and the truth,” Lucien sat back.

Gabby stated mischievously, “Katie panic-flirting should be absolute canon.”

“Shut up.”

The cards shuffled themselves into a pile labeled in scrolling script: “Beware or Do Not Touch – Sentient.”

Sean brushed his thumb over the back of Katie’s hand, a subtle congratulation for winning. She caught his smirk before he looked away.

Just before they turned in for the night, the Roaming Storm drifted down from the rafters, casting long, soft shadows across the stone walls. It hovered above the hearth, its mist curling tighter than usual. A flicker of lightning pulsed within its core—once, twice—then spiraled into the shape of a clock face. The hands spun backward, then forward, then dissolved into harmless sparks as the storm resumed its usual rhythm. No one said a word, but Katie’s eyes lingered on the hearth long after the glow had faded.

She felt something cold coil low in her chest, the kind of quiet warning her instincts never ignored.

Now it was the day before everyone would leave for the summer. Trunks lined the walls, belongings were being packed, and rooms were being cleared out. The Ilvermorny storm cloud had grown quieter, floating slowly overhead like it too was taking a deep breath before the end.

Katie folded the last of her clothes, glancing around the shared room with Gabby. “It’s weird,” she said softly.

Gabby looked up. “Yeah.”

“Feels like… I only just got here.”

“You did,” Gabby said with a smile. “And now you’ve got a boyfriend, a group of weirdos who adore you, a soul-bond, and a mysterious magical destiny. Busy year.”

Katie laughed.

Gabby sat on her bed, curling her legs beneath her. “You okay?”

Katie nodded. “Just thinking.”

“About Sean?”

“…About everything.”

Gabby grinned. “You’ll see him again. Sean’s already trying to get you invited over for summer.”

Katie flushed. “I know. I just… I don’t know how to go back to my old life. It’s like… the world was reversed."

Gabby stood and hugged her. “It kinda was. But it’s your world now, too, and we’ll find our way through it.”

Over Gabby’s shoulder, Katie’s gaze fell on the little pile of mementos she’d kept—pressed flowers from Botany, a scrap of parchment from Sean with nothing but a doodled serpent, and the tiny feather Lucien had tucked into her hair after a prank. Each piece felt like proof she belonged here.

Downstairs, the group began gathering for one last night in the Horned Serpent common room.

Lucien had insisted on a “formal” farewell toast and was currently trying to balance on the arm of a chair while Nick pretended not to know him. Camden was attempting to teach Gabby how to throw playing cards into the fireplace. Sean simply sat back, watching them all with quiet contentment.

A night of stories, laughter, and promises they’d see each other soon.

Chapter Text

Katie dreamed of chaos.

She stood in the grand hall of Ilvermorny—but not the one she knew.

The walls bowed and straightened with the slow pulse of a living thing, staircases looped and folded into themselves, and the house banners bled from one color to another with each blink. Students appeared and vanished in stuttering frames, some wearing robes so old-fashioned they belonged in history books, others frozen mid-step like fractured photographs.

And in the middle of it all stood a little girl.

She was maybe five years old, with pale blonde hair that caught the broken light like threads of silver. A star-speckled dress shifted softly around her knees, and in her small hands, she clutched a thin, metallic object that gleamed like the hand of a clock.

Katie’s breath hitched.

The distortion of the hall bent around the child but never touched her—like she was the still point in the eye of a storm. Slowly, the girl lifted her head, her eyes hidden beneath the fall of her hair.

“Mommy?”

The single word was clear, steady—almost relieved. Katie felt the floor tilt beneath her as the girl began to turn toward her, the dream slowing as though holding its breath.

Katie tried to take a step forward, desperate to see her face.

Just as the girl’s features started to come into view—

Katie jolted awake.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as her gaze darted around the dark dormitory. The only sound was Gabby’s soft breathing from across the room. Moonlight pooled across the floor, catching the silver chain of Katie’s necklace and making it flash like a tiny, reflected star.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow her pulse. The image of the little girl lingered, as real as if she’d been standing there a moment ago. Katie didn’t know why it rattled her so deeply—only that the one word still rang in her ears.

She lay back down, but the darkness felt heavier, like the shadows themselves were listening. Sleep never came again.

The final morning at Ilvermorny was laced with the bittersweet scent of spring dew and the soft hum of carriages being readied. Suitcases clattered down cobbled steps, and the grand halls echoed with goodbyes, laughter, and the occasional sniffle.

The school year had ended, but for Katie Daley and her friends, it felt like more than that. It felt like the end of a chapter—and for Katie, the dream still sat in the back of her mind like an unanswered question.

She stood with Sean, Gabby, Camden, Lucien, and Nick just outside the main courtyard, their trunks stacked beside them, waiting for the carriages or portkeys to bring them home. The sun shimmered through the trees, dappling the stone walkway with warmth.

“So… this is it,” Camden said, arms crossed and voice unusually soft.

Gabby bumped her shoulder against his. “Try not to cry, Cam.”

“I’m not crying,” he muttered. “Just… storing eye moisture for summer.”

Gabby smiled, wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’m going to miss you, you idiot.”

He held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. “Me too, Gabs.”

Lucien adjusted the strap of his enchanted satchel. “Nick, remind me what your travel portkey is again?”

Nick grinned. “An enchanted edition of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Figures, right?”

Lucien chuckled. “So on brand.”

Katie turned to Sean. The others began giving each other hugs and farewells, but she and Sean drifted a few steps away.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Katie whispered.

Sean gently took her hands. “Not over. Just the school year.”

“But still. Everything feels… heavier now. Like the world’s different. And we don’t even know what’s coming.”

Sean reached up to tuck a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. “Whatever’s coming, we’ll face it together. My parents said you can come visit this summer whenever you want.”

Katie blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, pulling her close. “We’ll have time. We’ll have peace. And if not… we’ll fight for it.”

She leaned her forehead against his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They kissed, slow and lingering, a promise sealed between them.

When they pulled apart, Sean reached into his jacket and handed her a wrapped bundle—an enchanted quill and parchment set. “This is for when we’re apart,” he said softly. “We can write each other. The messages appear instantly.”

Katie clutched the gift. “Sean… thank you.”

They turned toward the forest when something caught Katie’s eye.

A woman stood by the edge of the trees, almost too still, too quiet. She had long, dark hair that shimmered almost sapphire-blue in the daylight. Her robes were elegant, but it was the glint of gold that drew Katie’s gaze. A round necklace—no, not just a necklace.

A Time Turner.

The same one from the newspaper.

Sean turned to look, noticing her too. “Can I help you?” he called out.

The woman didn’t respond for a long moment. Then, her eyes fixed on Katie.

“Sayre,” she said.

Katie’s heart stilled. Her pulse skipped once, hard, and that dream unease roared back—the girl, the chaos, the still point in the storm.

Sean’s expression sharpened. “What did you just say?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge there Katie rarely heard.

Before she could respond, the woman twisted the rings of the Time Turner. In a flash of spinning light and golden threads, she vanished into nothing.

Katie turned to Sean, stunned.

He looked deeply unsettled. “That was the Time Turner.”

“I thought so.”

Then something else—movement in the sky. A flock of birds overhead began to shift formation, but halfway through their arc, half of them blinked out of existence. The others scattered wildly. The sunlight flickered once, like a candle guttering, before steadying again.

“What the—” Lucien murmured, shielding his eyes.

Katie turned as footsteps approached. William the Pukwudgie stood quietly a few feet away.

“You’ve grown stronger,” he stated in his gruff tone, nodding to both Katie and Sean. “Stronger together.”

Sean gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

William’s eyes remained unenthused—a shadow swam within them. “The future is coming faster than you know. And when it does… the pieces may not fit the way you expect.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the tall grass with hardly a sound.

As the final carriage bell rang, Professor Vale approached briskly.

“Mr. Carrow. Miss Daley.”

They turned quickly, standing a bit straighter.

“I trust you remember that Ilvermorny is first and foremost an academic institution,” she said with a raised brow. “Not a personal retreat.”

“Yes, Professor,” they echoed.

Her expression softened ever so slightly. “That said… you’ve both shown remarkable growth this year. Don’t lose that. And don’t let anyone make you feel like love and ambition can’t walk the same path.”

Katie blinked. “Thank you.”

Vale’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer, something unreadable there, before she added curtly, “Just make sure your essays are in on time next year.”

Then she turned with a flick of her cloak.

Sean let out a slow breath. “That was almost... nice.”

“From her, that was like a bear hug,” Katie whispered.

Together, they turned toward the carriages.

The school behind them. The summer ahead.

The story wasn’t over.

“Mommy?”

Not yet.