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Hogwarts, beginning of June.

The morning sun barely creeps through the curtains of my room in the Hufflepuff dormitory when I'm jolted awake by a hand shaking my shoulder. Blinking blearily, I find myself staring into the grinning face of Nicholas Flamel, his eyes sparkling with mischief that seems entirely out of place for this early hour.

From the last month plus of him 'helping' me with magic and just being a general pain in my arse - I know immediately that my day is screwed. I actually some days wish for Dumbledore as my minder instead - and he'd obliviated me!

"Rise and shine, Lucas!" He declares with a cheeriness that should be illegal at this time of day. "We have much to do today!"

I groan, squinting at the faint light peeking through the window. "Professor Flamel, the sun's barely up. Can't whatever it is wait until after breakfast?" Or lunch…

"Certainly not!" He replies with a laugh, pulling back my covers with a flourish. "We're on a tight schedule, my boy. Adventure waits for no one, not even for breakfast!"

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I try to wrap my head around what he's saying. "Adventure? What kind of adventure?" I manage, my voice still thick with sleep.

The last 'adventure' had ruined my sense of smell for over a week. Needless to say I wasn't overly excited to go on another. It was nice to think of getting Nicholas Flamel's undivided attention - not as nice to actually go through it.

"The sort that requires a sharp mind and a hearty spirit," Professor Flamel says, handing me a set of clothes that look suspiciously like they've been tailored just for me. "Hurry and dress. We're leaving Hogwarts for a little trip."

I pause, the clothes hanging limply in my hands. "Leaving Hogwarts?" I repeat, feeling a pang of anxiety. "But… Isn't that against the rules? And technically, isn't this kidnapping?" I add, in an attempt in delaying the inevitable.

Breaking rules is obviously something I haven't had an issue with - but I have promised to try and think things through this year.

Professor Flamel waves a hand dismissively, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. "Only if someone catches us, Lucas. And I've been crossing borders illegally with young men and women for centuries without so much as a peep from the authorities."

I stare at him, my mind sluggishly processing what he just said. "That's… Not exactly comforting, Professor. In fact, it's rather disturbing." I might get a greater understanding of magic from this - but some days it's just not worth it, I lament.

He chuckles, a sound full of knowing humor. "Only to those who lack a sense of adventure in their bones, lad. Besides, I didn't mean it like you're thinking. Now, hurry up. We've a long way to go."

As I hastily dress, my mind races with a thousand questions. Where is he taking me? And why? But Professor Flamel seems in no mood to answer questions just yet. He merely waits with an air of impatience, tapping his foot as I lace up my shoes with a quick wandless spell.

My wandless repertoire has expanded quite well under Professor Flamel's tutelage, his experience with non-wand magics extensive. It almost makes his eccentricities worth it.

Once I'm dressed, he ushers me out of the room and through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts. The castle is still and peaceful, the staff not yet awake. Our footsteps echo softly off the stone walls, the portraits we pass watching us with curious eyes.

We finally reach a deserted courtyard near the edge of the castle grounds, where a small, nondescript box sits on a stone bench - Professor Flamel gestures to it with a flourish.

"A portkey," He explains. "It'll take us to the edge of Britain. From there, well, let's just say the journey gets a bit more… Interesting."

I look at the box with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. "We're using a portkey? Just to leave Hogwarts?" It means Dumbledore in some way sanctioned this trip, or else it wouldn't go through the wards…

Professor Flamel grins. "Oh, trust me, Lucas. The sooner we're out of Albus hair, the better. We're going to see an old friend of mine, Cassiopeia Black. Now, grab hold."

Isn't she dead? I think, confused but also, I admit, a bit excited. She had written the book that had sent me on the path of Divination after all.

I do as he says, and the moment my fingers touch the box, I feel that gut-wrenching tug behind my navel as the world around us blurs into a whirlwind of color and sound. The sensation of being pulled through space is disorienting, but it only lasts a few moments. When the spinning stops, we land with a soft thud on the rocky coastline of Britain, or so I assume.

The sea stretches out before us, the waves crashing against the shore with a rhythmic roar. The air is crisp and salty, and a brisk wind blows in from the ocean, ruffling my hair. I take a moment to steady myself, my legs wobbling slightly from the portkey travel. "So… What now?" I ask, looking around at the seemingly deserted coastline. "And isn't Cassiopeia Black dead? It's who you're taking me to see, right? And didn't you say no one alive knows more about divination then you?" I ask rapidly.

Professor Flamel smiles, ignoring me, grasping my arm, "Now comes the fun part, Lucas. Hold on tight."

Before I can question what he means, he grabs my arm more firmly and, with a twist, the world around us blurs once again. This time, the sensation is even more disorienting. It's as if I'm being compressed, squeezed through a narrow tube, with my insides twisting in ways they definitely shouldn't. When we finally land, I stagger, feeling distinctly nauseous.

I barely manage to stay upright as I realize we're no longer on the British coastline. Instead, we're standing in the middle of a bustling city square, surrounded by towering buildings and cobblestone streets. My stomach churns as I look up, my eyes locking onto a large sign that reads München.

"You can't apparate that far," I say weakly, still trying to catch my breath. "Let alone with a passenger."

Professor Flamel brushes off my shock with a casual scoff. "Says who?"

"Everyone since Merlin, basically," I reply, still reeling from the experience.

Professor Flamel puffs out his chest, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Well, as usual, 'everyone' is wrong, and I am right. A burden I've had to live with for hundreds of years."

I roll my eyes, well used to hearing similar things over the past month. Somedays Dumbledore appeared tame in comparison. Most days really.

My protests however die in my throat as I take in the city around us - obviously the magical district. Munich is unlike any place I've ever seen. The air hums with magic, tinged with an energy that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. The streets are a vibrant blend of the old and the new, steeped in history and wonder.

Gothic spires loom over us, their dark facades softened by intricate carvings that glow faintly with magical runes. The buildings are a mix of traditional Bavarian architecture and modern wizarding enhancements, creating a cityscape that feels both ancient and timeless. Cobblestone streets wind through the city, lined with shops and stalls selling everything from enchanted pastries to mystical artifacts.

The magical influence on the city is palpable. I spot a bakery with floating pretzels in the window, each one twisting and turning in an elaborate dance. A nearby café has chairs that rearrange themselves to accommodate customers, while a florist's stall boasts flowers that change color based on the emotions of the person holding them. Above us, the sky is filled with broomsticks zipping to and fro, the riders laughing and shouting to each other in rapid German.

It's not as magical as Diagon Alley, but it seems more real. Like these people have done this for hundreds of years, and will keep doing this for hundreds of years. Their magic is more understated then Diagon Alley, more concentrated on homeliness and culture then on who can show off the most fantastical thing.

I recognize myself as being in Bavaria walking through these streets and it's fascinating to see another magical culture go about things so differently. We walk past an immense building that could fit on any muggle Bavarian postcard, except for the obvious magical influences, men in brown all encompassing robes moving in and out in small shuffling movements that look very odd.

Professor Flamel grimaces slightly as he sees my attention drawn to it, "That's the home of the Bavarian monks, who Munich is named for in the first place, one of the few sects in the magical world which mixes religion and magic together - you'd do well to stay away from them, they're absolutely no fun at all."

"How does that even work, what with the whole you shall not suffer a witch, or however the saying goes?" I ask, curious.

Professor Flamel chuckles, but without humor, "Not well." Is all he says, obviously not wishing to speak further on the subject.

I drop it for now, and follow him - making a mental note to look up any information on the monks, because they were an oddity, and that made them somewhat interesting.

We make our way through the bustling streets, the vibrant energy of magical Munich all around us. The street vendors call out to us in German, their stalls filled with trinkets and charms that sparkle in the sunlight - I can feel that they're charmed to draw the eyes of anyone that passes by. A group of musicians plays lively tunes on enchanted instruments, their music floating through the air like a tangible presence, spreading cheer across the streets.

I can't help but continue to marvel at the sights around me. Munich is alive with magic in a way that's entirely different from Diagon Alley or even Hogsmeade - it's certainly livelier too. There's a sense of deep-rooted tradition here, blended seamlessly with the magic that pervades every aspect of life. I loved Diagon Alley, it was so incredibly magical it had taken my breath away, but it wasn't a sight that told me immediately - yes, this is London - this is Britain.

Here, I can immediately tell that difference, it's definitely Bavaria, it's definitely Germany. They shout it out with everything they do.

As we walk, Professor Flamel keeps up a running commentary, pointing out various landmarks and shops with a mix of fondness and nostalgia. "Ah, there's old Heinrich's Wand Shop," He says, gesturing to a small, ivy-covered building with a sign that reads Zauberstäbe von Heinrich. "He's been crafting wands for over two centuries now. Finest wands in Germany, if you ask me. He's a Lich of course, but he's followed the German Ministry's rules fastidiously, not even Grindelwald bothered him… Much."

I try to take that in without gaping like a fool. I knew Liches were a thing that was possible, I did study a lot after all. But I hadn't been aware they could be legal!

We pass a towering clock tower, its face marked not with numbers, but with celestial symbols that shift and change as the day progresses. The clock strikes the hour as we walk by, the chimes deep and resonant, sending ripples of magic through the air that make the hairs on my arms stand on end.

In a move that is very Bavarian, at the strike of the chime, dozens of people across the street shout out something German, before chugging a flagon of what I assume is beer. From where they got it I have no idea. Does the street give free magic beer on the hour? It wouldn't surprise me, honestly.

Eventually, we reach our apparent destination, following several side paths away from bustling main street. It's a large, imposing building made of dark stone, its high walls covered in creeping ivy. The architecture is severe, almost gothic, with narrow windows and iron-wrought gates that seem to frown down at us. The air around it crackles with powerful wards, some of the strongest I've ever felt, and I can't help but feel a shiver of unease.

I trust Professor Flamel. Kind of. But still…

Professor Flamel strides confidently up to the entrance, speaking fluent German as he addresses the stern-looking witch who greets us at the door. "Guten Morgen. Wir sind hier, um Lady Black zu sehen."

The witch's demeanor firms up even more at his words. She nods respectfully, bowing her head slightly. "Natürlich, Herr Flamel. Bitte folgen Sie mir."

As we follow the nurse through the dimly lit corridors, I lean closer to Professor Flamel, my voice low and wary. "Is this… A nursing home?" Which makes sense, she'd be old right? Still creepy as hell for a nursing home…

Professor Flamel chuckles, the sound echoing eerily off the stone walls. "More like a home for criminally insane witches," He says with a wink, tapping his nose with a finger.

I stop in my tracks, staring at him in disbelief. "That's a thing?"

He shrugs as if it's the most normal thing in the world. "It's a rare need, but some witches… Well, let's just say they're better off being kept away from society, most of them by personal choice too - they're not really the regular type of insane."

I can't tell if he's being serious or not, but the eerie quiet of the place and the cold, sterile air suggest he might be. My unease deepens with every step we take, the oppressive weight of the wards making it harder to breathe. I've never felt anything like it before. It's as if the very walls are infused with dark magic, held at bay by layers upon layers of protective spells.

We continue down the narrow corridor, the atmosphere growing heavier with each step. The walls are lined with dark, polished wood, and the floors are made of gleaming black stone that reflects the dim light from the hanging chandeliers. The further we go, the more intense the magic in the air becomes, almost as if the very building is alive with a sinister awareness.

The witch guiding us moves with a measured pace, her footsteps echoing softly in the silence. The corridor seems to stretch on forever, each door we pass marked with intricate runes and symbols that I can't quite place. Some of them glow faintly, pulsing with an eerie light, while others remain dark, their meaning lost to time.

I obviously need to study more ancient runes, I think as I stare at the powerful wards around me.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally reach the end of the corridor. A large, heavy door stands before us, its surface covered in an array of protective spells and wards. These aren't the simple, everyday wards you'd find on an average wizard's home. No, these are ancient, powerful spells, layered upon each other in a complex web of magic that practically hums with energy.

Among the more familiar magical barriers, I notice something that makes my stomach drop - a series of Japanese seal scripts, meticulously painted and positioned with precision. These are talismans designed to ward off the worst kinds of darkness or danger, and their presence here makes my skin crawl. The seals glow with a faint, pulsating light, as if alive and responding to the magical energy around them.

"You're not inspiring confidence in me here," I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I stare at the door. She's a Black, so I suppose it makes sense, but still. I was expecting a doddering witch, not… This…

I suppose asking for an autograph in her book is out of the question. Not that I brought it since Flamel didn't tell me what we were doing, not until we were already on our way.

Professor Flamel places a hand on my shoulder, his expression more serious than I've ever seen it. "Good. Caution is an excellent trait in a young mage, far better than reckless bravado."

The nurse turns to Professor Flamel, her expression stern. "Herr Flamel, are you taking responsibility for this visit?"

Professor Flamel nods solemnly. "I am."

The nurse hesitates for a moment, as if weighing the gravity of his words, then reaches into her robes to retrieve a small, silver key. She steps forward and begins the painstaking process of dismantling the wards, her movements slow and deliberate as she works her way through each layer of protection. The key apparently a necessary foci to even be able to work on them.

I don't want to imagine what these wards would do to someone without the necessary foci. These aren't - turn you inside out wards… They're - turn you inside out while stretching time so you'll suffer it for a thousand years before finally dying - type wards… I can just feel it.

It's obviously a meticulous task, and I can see beads of sweat forming on her brow as she carefully unravels the magical barriers. The wards resist her efforts at first, shimmering with a stubborn, almost sentient force. But with each flick of her wrist and muttered incantation, the barriers slowly begin to weaken, their light dimming until they eventually fade away.

We stand in silence, watching as she works. The atmosphere in the corridor grows even more tense as the minutes tick by, the only sound the soft murmur of the nurse's voice as she whispers the counter-charms. I can feel the weight of the magic in the air, pressing down on me like a physical force. It's both fascinating and terrifying, the sheer power of these wards a testament to whatever - or whoever - is behind that door.

It must be Cassiopeia Black, but why all this?

To pass the time, Professor Flamel starts quizzing me on my knowledge of warding and magical seals. "So, Lucas," He begins, his tone casual despite the tension in the air, "What do you know about the principles of ward layering?"

It is still weird to have someone hundreds of years my senior calling me by first name, and I give him a look, before giving up on it before I can even begin. It's better to just humor him. He'd taught me a decent ability to sniff out wards and the like, so I could hardly say his teachings weren't useful.

I probably wouldn't even be able to sense these wards this well if not for him.

I clear my throat, trying to focus on his question despite the oppressive atmosphere. "Ward layering is the practice of placing multiple protective spells over one another to create a more impenetrable barrier," I recite, drawing on my studies at Hogwarts and the Undercrofts secret tomes. "The key is to ensure that each layer complements the others, strengthening the overall protection without causing interference."

Professor Flamel nods, though there's a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Correct, but that's only the basics. What about when dealing with older, more complex magic? Like the seals you see here?" He gestures toward the Japanese talismans on the door.

I hesitate, not entirely sure of my answer. "I...I know that those seals are designed to repel dark forces, but they also require precise placement and timing to be effective. They're often used in conjunction with other protective wards to create a comprehensive barrier, not adding to the layers, more like… Sliding in the gaps to set a rule or domain."

Professor Flamel raises an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Barely passable," He mutters, shaking his head. "You have much to learn, Lucas. But don't worry, you'll get there." He doesn't even say it snidely, he just amusedly lays it out there.

I bristle slightly at his criticism, but before I can respond, the nurse finally steps back from the door. The last of the wards fades away with a soft, almost reluctant sigh, leaving the door standing bare and unprotected. The nurse gives Professor Flamel a wary glance, her hand hovering near her wand as if she expects something to go horribly wrong at any moment.

"The wards are down," She says, her voice trembling slightly. "You may enter… But be cautious."

Professor Flamel nods in acknowledgment, then turns to me with a grin that's far too confident for the situation. "Ready, Lucas? Let's meet our host."

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. The nurse's clear discomfort does nothing to settle my nerves. She quickly backs away from the door, and as soon as she's at a safe distance, she turns and literally sprints around the corner, disappearing from sight.

I glance at Professor Flamel, my anxiety spiking. "Are we sure about this?" I ask, my voice wavering. I've surely faced worse, but all this isn't setting up a pretty picture…

Professor Flamel chuckles, clearly unbothered by the nurse's hasty retreat. "Nervous, are we? Don't worry, Lucas. It's all part of the experience. Besides, caution is healthy for a young lad, it will keep you alive and sane through magic's pitfalls. Just be polite and you'll be fine, I'm here after all."

That does somewhat help, as he is a powerful wizard, much more powerful then I think the world realizes. It's easy to forget Albus Dumbledore was this man's apprentice at some point.

With that, he pushes open the door, the hinges creaking ominously as it swings inward. The room beyond is dark, the only light coming from a single, flickering candle on a small table near the far wall. The air inside is heavy, almost suffocating, with a musty smell that suggests the room hasn't been aired out in a long time.

I brace myself for the worst, expecting to find an ancient, withered witch with a crazed look in her eyes. But what I see instead leaves me utterly speechless.

In the corner of the room stands a girl, no older than twelve or thirteen, with long, jet-black hair that falls in soft waves down her back. Her skin is pale, almost luminescent in the dim light, and her silvery-grey eyes are sharp, intelligent, and eerily calm. She's dressed in a simple white gown that contrasts starkly with the dark surroundings. She's just… Slightly off, everything just reminds me of a doll in some way, a creepy horror movie doll.

She's standing on a small ladder, carefully painting on the wall with a delicate brush, her movements precise and deliberate. The wall is covered in a sprawling mural of stars and constellations, seen even in the darkness, each one meticulously detailed and connected by thin, silver lines that shimmer faintly in the candlelight. It's beautiful, almost hypnotic, the constellations seemingly shifting and swirling as I watch.

Professor Flamel steps forward, his voice warm and familiar, but I notice his wand is in his hand. "Cassiopeia, how are you, old girl?"

The girl, Cassiopeia, pauses in her painting and turns her head slightly almost like an owl, regarding Professor Flamel with an inhuman assessing gaze. For a moment, she doesn't speak, simply studying him with those piercing silver eyes. Then, she sniffs the air delicately, a slight frown creasing her brow, expression suddenly more human.

"Nicky," She says at last, her tone as cool and sharp as her gaze, an undertone or censure in it.

Professor Flamel laughs, clearly unfazed by her frosty reception. "I see you're still fond of your little art projects."

Cassiopeia doesn't respond immediately, instead turning back to her painting, adding a few more strokes to the constellation she's working on. "What do you want, Nicholas?" She asks finally, her tone clipped.

Professor Flamel grins, though there's a hint of something more serious in his eyes. "I've brought someone to meet you. A young prodigy in Divination, you might say."

Cassiopeia's hand stills, and she turns her full attention to me for the first time. Her gaze is intense, almost unnerving, as if she's seeing right through me, peeling back the layers to examine what lies beneath. The doll like eyes managing to look sharp yet still come off as glossy and unfeeling by some feat of magic

I shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny, unsure of what to say or do. She's nothing like I expected. There's an unsettling maturity in her eyes, a cold intelligence that belies her youthful appearance. Those eyes don't belong, is all I can think about. The disparity of her looks and the age and inhumanity in her eyes are jarring.

Professor Flamel seems to sense my discomfort and claps me on the back, a gesture meant to be reassuring, but in this instance does nothing to soothe my instinctive wariness. "Lucas, this is Cassiopeia Black. She's a bit of an enigma and somewhat insane, but I assure you, she's quite fascinating once you get to know her."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Cassiopeia snorts softly at that, a sound that's more amused than anything else, even if her expression doesn't change from its doll-like placid state. "Fascinating, am I?" She murmurs, her gaze never leaving mine. "I suppose that's one way to put it." The more she speaks, the more I catch on to some sort of eerie doublespeak, barely audible at the edge of my senses that's laid under her own words, repeating them. What have I gotten myself into?

I swallow hard, trying to find my voice. "It's… Nice to meet you," I manage, though the words feel woefully inadequate.

Cassiopeia raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Is it?"

I admit to being slightly relieved to see a more human expression on her face, even as I keep my mouth shut to not confirm to her that it really isn't at this point. Never meet your idols…

Professor Flamel laughs again, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. "Oh, Cassiopeia, always the skeptic. But that's precisely why I brought him here. I think you two might just have a few things in common, I've never seen Divination handled the way you two do it."

Cassiopeia doesn't reply, but her gaze seems to soften ever so slightly as she studies me. There's a flicker of something in her eyes - curiosity, perhaps?

Cassiopeia's gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before something shifts in the air. The atmosphere thickens, the faint pulse of magic in the room intensifying until it presses against my skin like a heavy weight. I see her eyes change - the sharp silver of her irises fading away, replaced by a milky white sheen. Her pupils disappear entirely, leaving her eyes blank and unsettling, as if she's staring into another realm.

The air grows colder, and the candlelight flickers wildly as if caught in a sudden gust of wind. My breath catches in my throat, my pulse quickening. I glance at Professor Flamel, but he remains calm, watching Cassiopeia with a knowing expression, as if this is exactly what he expected.

Like bringing two prodigies in Divination together couldn't have any other outcome. You could have warned me! I'm already dreading what's coming. Prophecies doesn't have a good record as far as I'm concerned.

Cassiopeia's voice, when she speaks, is different this time - lower, resonant, and heavy with an eerie, otherworldly power that sends a shiver down my spine. Her words come slowly, rhythmically, like the tolling of a bell, each syllable heavy with meaning. Her ghostly doublespeak is perfectly audible now, lending a further degree of eeriness to the situation.

"In the time of shadow and flame,"

"She who first didst enter the light,"

"From the womb of night, her destiny bequeath'd,"

"The seed of darkness and blight."

How cheerful, I think sarcastically as she pauses for a moment, before continuing.

"She, the harbinger of woe and ire,"

"From her loins, came he who is doomed,"

"Together they're bound by fate's cruel spire,"

"And they shall see the world consumed."

I want the canon prophecy back… I look towards Professor Flamel who looks if anything interested, stroking his chin, no sign of panic. Maybe it's nothing to worry about?

"The serpent's tongue shall twist and wind,"

"In halls of power, secrets doth bind,"

"The eldest is youngest, her wrath shall rear,"

"And with the second coming, doth all draw near."

"In the clash of wills, in the dance of blood,"

"Shall the old ways crumble and fall,"

"For when the first and second flood,"

"So shall perish one and all."

"Seek not the dawn, nor light of day,"

"For in the end, naught but night shall stay."

"From ash and ruin, they shall arise,"

"To rend the world with final ties."

"Interesting…" Professor Flamel mutters, and I have other words for that… If there ever was a doomsday prophecy, that is surely it.

The words hang in the air, chilling and foreboding, their meaning seeping into my bones. I stand frozen, the weight of the prophecy sinking in, leaving me breathless. The milky whiteness in Cassiopeia's eyes slowly fades, her gaze returning to its usual sharpness. She blinks, as if coming out of a trance, and looks around as though she's just realized where she is.

She frowns, confusion flashing across her features. "What did I say?" she asks, her voice back to its normal tone, but laced with annoyance. She clicks her tongue, giving Flamel a haughty look, "Nicky, I'm here to stop getting visions." She chastises.

Flamel's smile is gone, replaced by a pensive frown as she chastises him. He steps closer to Cassiopeia, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You've given us much to think about, my dear, I'm sorry if we've made you uncomfortable, but the lad needed to see."

Cassiopeia looks at him, her frown deepening. "It was a prophecy, wasn't it?"

Flamel nods solemnly. "It was."

"What… What is she?" I blurt out, my voice trembling with the question. I regret it the moment it leaves my mouth, but I can't take it back. The Cassiopeia Black who wrote my book was not a seer!

Cassiopeia sniffs, her expression bored as she goes back to painting the mural on the wall. "That was unbearably rude," She says, her voice flat, though her gaze is detached, as if she's already moved on from the conversation.

Professor Flamel sighs, a note of regret slipping into his usually confident tone. "Cassiopeia once sought eternal youth when she grew older and the Black curse began affecting her overly. So she divined a way to achieve it, a path that no one else had ever dared to tread. And now… She embodies the very idea of - be careful what you wish for."

I look at her again, unable to reconcile the young girl standing before me with the weight of Professor Flamel's words. "She's… Immortal?" I ask, disbelief coloring my voice. It's impossible to believe that immortality is so easily gained. Despite standing next to one man that kind of achieved it - it's not something you run into twice.

Three times if you count Voldemort! So maybe it's more common then I think actually...

Flamel shakes his head, his expression complicated. "Not really, and yet… Yes."

I feel a headache forming, the complexity of the situation beyond anything I've encountered before. "I miss Dumbledore," I mutter, rubbing my temples. "I'm beginning to see him as a straight shooter." No, but yes, isn't an answer!

Professor Flamel looks genuinely offended at that, his brows knitting together in a scowl. "Excuse me for not being able to explain a magical phenomenon never seen before in a simple sentence for a twelve-year-old," He snaps, his tone sharper than usual. "You need to learn lad, magic does not work in absolutes." Then his lips twitch, "Except when it does."

I think about that for a second, realizing the absurdity of my complaint. "That's… Fair," I admit, though it does little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

Cassiopeia pauses in her painting, turning to look at Flamel with a raised eyebrow. "Did you just come to show me off, Nicky?" She asks, her voice lilting and almost playful, but there's an edge to it, a hint of something deeper, more dangerous, something primal.

Professor Flamel's smile returns, but it's tinged with something painful. "You're a magical miracle and nightmare all in one, Cassiopeia. Of course, I'm showing you off. This," He says, gesturing between her and me, "Is what happens when you peer too deep into the mysteries of the world, when divination reaches its finest… And its worst." He gives me a look, looking perfectly serious.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I can't help but gulp, feeling sick to my stomach. "This is insane," I murmur, the weight of it all pressing down on me. "You're saying she's a warning for me?"

Professor Flamel nods solemnly. "Yes, Lucas. You're a bright lad, but I see in you the same kind of recklessness and belief in being right that I once saw in her." The pain in his voice becomes clearer as he looks back at Cassiopeia, like he's looking at a past mistake. I think, wondering what happened, and not sure I really want the details.

I could attempt to Divine it, but I wasn't touching Cassiopeia with that! I'd tried it with Professor Flamel at the start of this mentorship, and I had basically gotten skull fucked by his protections, enough that I had to spend a day in the medical wing.

Professor Flamel might have a point about my recklessness…

Cassiopeia scoffs, her tone dripping with disdain. "You say that like it's a bad thing, Nicky. I'm obviously a success story." She waves a hand dismissively, as if brushing off Flamel's concerns as nothing more than trivial worries.

I can't help the sarcastic retort that slips from my lips. "You're locked in a room in an insane asylum. Hardly what I'd call a success."

Professor Flamel mutters under his breath, "There's that recklessness."

Before I can respond, between one blink and the next, Cassiopeia is suddenly right in front of me, her movements so fast and fluid that I didn't even see her move. There's no sign of a wand, nothing that indicates she's even done anything magical at all. She simply appears before me, her finger pressing lightly against my forehead, her doll-like eyes meeting mine.

The world goes black.

When I come to, the first thing I hear is the clinking of teacups. I blink rapidly, my vision swimming as I try to make sense of my surroundings. I'm still in the same room, but now Professor Flamel and Cassiopeia are sitting at a small table, calmly sipping tea as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Professor Flamel looks up, catching sight of me stirring, and gives me an irritatingly knowing look. "Lad, would you sass Voldemort like that?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts, still feeling disoriented from whatever just happened. "Probably," I say after a pause, then frown. "Are you saying she's that strong?"

Professor Flamel shakes his head, setting his teacup down with a soft clink. "No, but compared to you, or the average wizard? She's way out of your league, lad. All that aside, she's also basically a vampire without being a vampire, amongst other things."

I groan, feeling the headache intensify. "There you go again with the unhelpful words. What's a vampire that's not a vampire?"

Cassiopeia chuckles softly, a sound that's almost musical but carries an unsettling eerie undertone. "You're interesting, Luc~as." She purrs, "Especially the mind link." She plays with a teaspoon in her mouth, sending me a smug look.

I freeze, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. Professor Flamel raises an eyebrow at me, clearly intrigued by her words. Inwardly, I curse myself for letting anything slip. I hadn't even said anything that bad, it's Professor Flamel's fault for bringing me on this idiotic quest!

Cassiopeia doesn't seem to care about my discomfort. She continues, her tone cold and hungry. "It was nice of Nicky to bring a guest. I'd quite like to see the outside world again, without all the nasty people I'd have to set on fire."

Professor Flamel's demeanor shifts instantly, his expression turning alarmed. "Now, Cassiopeia," He begins carefully, fingering his wand. "You agreed to stay here. It was best for everyone, remember?"

Cassiopeia smiles, a slow, eerie smile that doesn't reach her glossy eyes. "Oh, don't worry, Nicky. I won't be going anywhere." She points directly at me, her gaze locking onto mine with unsettling intensity. "He will."

"Absolutely not," I say immediately, horrified by the implication. "I'm only twelve. I can't have two mind links!"

Tonks is going to kill me!

Cassiopeia's smile widens, almost predatory now. "I know more about divination than anyone alive or dead," She says, her tone dripping with arrogance. "I know more about magic than anyone not named Nicky too." She teased, biting down on the teaspoon, a knowing look in her eyes.

I'm torn. The idea of having someone as powerful and knowledgeable as her in my mind is both terrifying and… Incredibly tempting. The prospect of learning from someone who has peered so deeply into the mysteries of magic is almost irresistible.

Professor Flamel groans, running a hand through his hair. "Albus is going to kill me," He mutters. "You were just supposed to learn more about divination, maybe learn to fear the consequences a bit - not end up with a guest in your head." He looks to the ceiling, muttering, "The German Ministry is going to have my balls for this…" He snorts, muttering under his breath, "Again."

I grimace, the reality of the situation crashing down on me. "Shouldn't my Occlumency have stopped her?" I ask wearily, feeling utterly drained by the turn of events. I kind of want her knowledge, but… I have already played too much with forces beyond my ken as is.

Cassiopeia tilts her head, her smile returning to that eerie, almost smug expression. "I can't read your mind at all," She says casually. "Your defenses are solid. I'm only able to peer through your mind link, not your mind." She pauses, her smile growing colder. "There's a difference, child."

Regret floods through me, and I wish more than ever that I could just rewind time, go back to bed, and forget this entire day. But there's no going back now. I'm in too deep. At least she's not actually in my mind. So I have a crazy old witch able to contact me whenever she wants… It's not… Entirely as bad as I feared.

Cassiopeia continues to sip her tea, as if nothing has changed, but I can feel her presence looming over me, even if she's sitting several feet away.

"If you keep your mouth shut about any mind links, I'll keep my mouth shut about this entire meeting." I tell Flamel, pivoting from the creepy girl… Or woman I guess. To think I kind of idolized her for setting me on the path of divination…

Flamel immediately agrees, "Albie doesn't need to know everything anyway." He murmurs with visible relief.

"I like your eyes." Cassiopeia tells me suddenly, not at all sounding like a crazy murderess in a slasher fic. Merlin, I hope she doesn't actually mean like to eat or something…

This is my life…

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Munich is bustling around us as Professor Flamel and I walk down a narrow, cobblestone street lined with shops and cafés, the air alive with the scent of fresh bread and roasting meats. Floating street lamps cast a warm, golden glow, though the sun is still high in the sky.

We're heading toward what the Professor assures me is one of the best magical restaurants in the city, though after what I've just been through, food is the last thing on my mind.

I'm still reeling from everything that happened with Cassiopeia - her prophecy, her sudden connection to my mind, the way she moved, like something out of a nightmare, just one blink and she's there - reminding me of Doctor Who and the weeping angels. My thoughts are complicated and conflicted, and every step feels heavier than the last as I struggle to keep up with Flamel's brisk pace.

Part of me really doesn't mind what happened, because having a resource to tap with her knowledge and experience is invaluable. The other part points out how she seems more like a living doll playing out a person than a person, and again the comparison to the weeping angels. That part isn't as happy.

A third part, probably representing Tonks influence on me - complains that I now have another girl that will see every embarrassing part of puberty, even if Cassiopeia's is more limited to apparently only seeing out of my eyes when she connects to talk to me, having no access to my mind like Tonks has. And technically she probably couldn't be called a girl anyway. At least a woman, but probably more eldritch abomination or something.

Bloody hell, Tonks will probably be jealous despite it all, because that crazy bint can see out of my eyes and she can't… At least it isn't all the time…

We turn a corner and the restaurant comes into view. It's a cozy-looking building with dark wood beams crisscrossing the white plastered walls. A sign above the door reads Das Goldene Horn, the letters shimmering with a faint golden glow. The windows are framed with flower boxes bursting with bright golden blooms, and the door itself is thick, carved oak, with a brass handle shaped like a dragon's head holding a golden horn in its jaw.

As we enter, the warmth and noise of the place wash over me, momentarily distracting me from my racing thoughts. The inside is even more charmingly medieval looking - with low wooden beams overhead, worn stone floors, and tables of dark wood with flickering candles in the center. The smell of roasting meat and freshly baked bread fills the air, making my stomach rumble despite the knot of anxiety still sitting in it.

I've already decided to just accept this and take advantage of this, but it doesn't stop the second guessing or the worries I have. I need to be smarter this year, better. So I need to stop being a whiny little bitch and just take this opportunity by the horns and deal with any consequences like a man, no more half measures. Although continuing to show worry might get more information out of the Professor…

A tall, broad-shouldered wizard with a thick mustache and a welcoming smile greets us as we step inside. He's wearing traditional Bavarian muggle garb - lederhosen, a white shirt, and suspenders, but with a twist. His hat, instead of the usual feather, sports a tiny enchanted dragon curled up and snoozing, its breath puffing out little wisps of smoke.

At least I assume it's an enchanted replica, because surely the German Ministry is not that lax. Or Hagrid would have emigrated decades ago.

"Guten Tag, Herr Flamel!" He booms, clasping Flamel's hand in a hearty handshake. "It's been too long!"

I side eye Professor Flamel, for a supposed hermit, he's sure well known by people… How much of his history and known 'facts' were outright lies I wonder.

"Guten Tag, Gunther!" Flamel replies, matching the man's enthusiasm. "It's good to be back. I've brought a guest today - he's had quite the morning, so let's find him something to cheer him up."

Gunther looks at me with a twinkle in his eye, as if he knows exactly what I need. "Ah, a good meal and a fine drink will do the trick, young man! Follow me, follow me!"

I'm twelve, I think wryly, but don't protest, if Professor Flamel isn't going to say anything about it, why should I?

Also it would be great blackmail material, I can only imagine how spectacularly Professor Sprout would blow up at the man - famous alchemist or not - if she found out he was spiriting away her innocent second year Hufflepuffs and getting them drunk.

We're led to a table near the back of the restaurant, right next to a window that overlooks a small garden - the leaves ghostly and ethereal as they seem to have trouble deciding whether they were going to be visible or fade away from sight. The plants were moving ever so slightly, their leaves rustling as if they're whispering secrets to one another. It's oddly soothing, and I find myself relaxing just a bit as we take our seats. I'll have to ask Neville about them later, Herbology isn't something I've ever bothered going beyond Hogwarts curriculum on.

"What'll it be?" Gunther asks, handing us menus that I instantly recognize are charmed to display different items depending on where you're from, Professor Flamel having taught me how to 'taste' the flavor of minor wards and minor spells during the last month together - mine's in English, and I can see that Professor Flamels is in bloody Latin.

Flamel orders for us both without hesitation. "Two Schweinshaxe, and let's start with a round of your latest stock."

Gunther nods approvingly. "An excellent choice! The Schweinshaxe today is particularly good, and you'll not find better beer in all of Munich."

As Gunther disappears back into the kitchen, I finally feel the tension begin to ease from my shoulders, though the weight of the prophecy still lingers in the back of my mind. I look across the table at Professor Flamel, who's leaning back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for someone who just introduced a twelve-year-old to an - not really but yes - immortal, insane witch.

"Are you going to tell me why you really took me to see Cassiopeia?" I ask, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. Because while I accept what's happened, and can see the benefits, it doesn't mean that I like that he dropped it on me with no warning.

Flamel's eyes twinkle with that infuriating mix of amusement and wisdom that he always seems to carry. "I thought it was time you saw the deeper mysteries of magic, Lucas. Cassiopeia is… Well, she's a living lesson in why one must be careful not to delve too far, and you needed to see that."

"And how dangerous is she, really?" I ask, unable to stop the image of her milky white eyes and the prophecy from flashing through my mind. "She didn't exactly come off as harmless."

Flamel chuckles, but there's a seriousness to it. "She's not malicious, Lucas, just… Different. Think of her like the fae - her mind doesn't work the same way ours does anymore."

I scoff, the knot of anxiety in my stomach tightening again. "That's even worse. Are you really trying to make me feel better by comparing her to the Fair Folk?" Bloody hell he's useless at comforting, how is that supposed to be BETTER!?

Although… If we are running on a story-like format - like magic is wont to do with its protagonists, which after first year I have to acknowledge makes sense… A fairy godmother fits the theme…

He shrugs, unbothered by my reaction. "I'm simply telling you the truth. She doesn't follow our rules, and her sense of morality is… Let's say, flexible. But she's not out to harm you. In fact, this outcome is better than I'd hoped now that I think of it."

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. "Better? How is any of this a good outcome? I understand her knowledge is useful, but still…"

"You know now not to dabble too far," Flamel says, his tone more serious. "And you have a resource that most wizards who know enough would kill for - Cassiopeia's knowledge of divination and magic. She might pop in from time to time, and when she does, you can ask her for advice, I doubt she'll be omnipresent, she's a woman prone to distraction."

I mutter under my breath, "Easy for you to say, since it's not your head she's popping into."

Flamel grins, clearly unbothered by my sarcasm. "You're worrying too much. She can't access your actual mind. It's more like having a pen pal." He says blithely.

I stare at him, deadpan. "It's amazing how well you can bullshit." I agree, she's useful, but still, that's just a load of bullshit, pen pals? Really?

"I am excellent at it, aren't I?" he says with a smug smile. "But I'm also not wrong. All you have is a line of communication open, and it could prove invaluable."

Before I can respond, Gunther returns with two massive plates of food. The Schweinshaxe is an enormous roasted Ham hock, crispy and golden on the outside, with tender meat that practically falls off the bone. It's served with a side of what he says are Knödel, which are large potato dumplings, and a rich, savory gravy that smells like heaven. The beer I definitely shouldn't be served - is served in tall, frosted mugs, the pale, cloudy beer topped with a thick, creamy head.

Gunther doesn't blink an eye at giving me a mug of beer almost the size of my head. I don't know if that's Germans in general or magicals, but it's crazy either way.

Despite everything, my mouth waters at the sight of the food, and I can't help but dig in. The first bite of the pork is divine - crispy skin giving way to melt-in-your-mouth meat, the flavors rich and comforting, filling the void that no breakfast and a stressful day had left in me. The potatoes soak up the gravy perfectly, and the beer is crisp, with a hint of citrus and a smooth finish that complements the meal perfectly.

I'm mindful of just taking a few sips though, I'm not sure how much alcohol content it has, but I am twelve in body, if not in spirit. And I really don't want to overindulge, or get in the habit of washing my stress away with drink.

Professor Flamel eats with gusto, clearly enjoying the food as much as I am. Between bites, he continues our conversation as if we're discussing nothing more serious than the weather. "And as for the prophecy, well, there's no point in worrying about it, lad, there really isn't. I once had a doomsday prophecy made to me, and after fifty years, it turned out it was talking about a magical clap I'd get when my wife and I had some experimental times in Asia." He scowls slightly, "Geisha my ass…"

I choke on my beer, sputtering as I try to recover from the unexpected - and highly unwelcome - overshare. "You overshare way too much, Professor." I manage to say once I've stopped coughing, stressing his position.

Flamel laughs, a rich, hearty sound that seems to make the entire room a little brighter. "That's ridiculous! I'm merely giving you perspective." He said with a twinkle in his eyes. So that's where Dumbledore gets that from, I think, exasperated at having to deal with two kooky old men now.

"Perspective," I mutter, shaking my head as I take another bite of the Schweinshaxe. "Sure, let's call it that."

But as we eat, and as the conversation continues to drift toward lighter topics, I find myself calming down, the immediate panic from my encounter with Cassiopeia slowly fading into the background. There's still a lot to worry about - how could there not be after hearing a prophecy like that? - but for now, with good food in front of me and Professor Flamel's annoyingly reassuring presence, I can almost convince myself that everything will be okay.

At least until Cassiopeia decides to pop in again.

How that would go would decide if this whole thing was worth it or not.

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Crossing the border back to Britain feels just as bad as leaving it did. It wouldn't surprise me if Professor Flamel is making it worse on purpose. He's exactly that kind of person.

It annoys me that I kind of feel like we're a bit alike in some ways. I'm not that bad, but there's a reason maybe that we get along pretty well, despite the massive age difference.

ANSWER ME YOU TOSSER! Reverberates through my skull from Tonks moments later, and I stagger, the mental communication slamming into me like a sledgehammer, pure panic pouring out of the connection.

Tonks? I send back, following Professor Flamel as he leads me back towards Hogwarts. Trying not to be obvious about not paying attention to him blathering about muggle soccer of all things.

Really? Professor Flamel is a soccer hooligan? My mind can only break so much, Professor…

Where the bloody hell have you been, you absolute BERK!! Tonks shouts into my mind, a tone of hysteria to her that makes me wince.

Tonks, what's happened? I fire back, instantly my mind flashes between all the worst case scenarios. It can't be Voldemort, not yet, not now - he's supposed to be toothless.

I thought you were DEAD! You weren't answering! You jerk! You bloody stupid berk of a jerk! Tonks keeps ranting, not listening to me at all.

Tonks, I'm fine, I was out of the country with Professor Flamel, I guess our connection doesn't stretch that far, now tell me what's happened? I say patiently through our connection. I'm glad to have found a limit to our link, even if I don't intend to escape it in any way - it's still good to know.

Your orphanage was destroyed in an attack by Fiendfyre, it's all over the news. I knew you weren't supposed to be back there anyway, and that you were at Hogwarts, but then you didn't ANSWER ME! Tonks rapidly blubbers at me, the panic and hysteria settling down as her mind brushes up against mine, soothing itself.

Only for me to run into another problem as she pokes my thoughts, even as I try and focus on if I feel anything in particular about having been the cause for so many deaths. And not about recent developments.

Which of course goes as usual. You can say you're not going to think about the pink elephant, but it never works out that way.

Lucas… Who is Cassiopeia Black and why is this GIRL taking up all your thoughts? Tonks' mental voice is sweet, too sweet.

Alright, this can only end well…

As I try to explain things to Tonks, while not appearing too out of it to Professor Flamel, I also wonder who had hit my orphanage - without doing even the barest amount of information gathering that would have discovered I wasn't there.

Or was this just a message?

At least… I don't blame myself for this one. I can't control what some monster does. Taking that on myself would just be martyrdom.

I'll simply have to avenge the poor people caught up in the wake of the story of good versus evil.

They'll not be the only ones that will suffer for my existence.

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The next day, Hogwarts.

The Great Hall is eerily quiet this morning, the usual hustle and bustle of students that I'm used to has been replaced by a peaceful silence. The enchanted ceiling shows a soft blue sky dotted with wisps of clouds, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the empty tables. It feels strange to be here without the usual chatter and laughter of hundreds of students, but in a way, it's also comforting - a moment of calm after the storm that was this past school year.

I need the calm after the whole Cassiopeia mess, then spending a whole night basically mind cuddling with Tonks to get her to settle down from her experience of hearing about an attack - and then only reaching a void when reaching out for me.

I'm seated at the Hufflepuff table, a plate of eggs and toast in front of me, but my attention is more focused on the small stack of letters that have just arrived by owl. Each one is from a friend, and it's almost overwhelming to see how many people have written to me over the summer break. It's strange, having people who care - strange, but nice.

I pick up the first letter, recognizing the neat, precise handwriting as Padma's. I carefully open the envelope, pulling out the parchment inside.

Dear Lucas,

I hope this letter finds you well, or at the very least, not in the middle of some dangerous nonsense (which is, unfortunately, more likely than not knowing you). Things at home are... interesting, to say the least. Parvati is driving me mad - she's been obsessing over some new beauty charm she found in one of Mum's old books, and I swear, if I have to hear her talk about it one more time, I'm going to hex her hair green.

On a more academic note, I've been looking into some of the magical practices specific to India. Mum insists on teaching us the basics of Ayurveda - which is a traditional form of healing involving magical herbs and potions. It's fascinating, really, and some of the principles might be useful in our Potions class next year. There's also this ancient form of divination called Nadi, a form of astrology that's supposed to be incredibly accurate, but it's really complex. I can't help but wonder how it compares to what you've been learning... Maybe you could look into it sometime?

Anyway, I won't bore you with too much of my family drama. Just promise me you'll stay safe and sane over the summer. And if you ever need to escape from whatever trouble you inevitably get yourself into, you know where to find me.

Take care, Padma.

I can't help but smile at Padma's mix of exasperation and genuine care. I've always admired how she manages to stay level-headed, even when surrounded by chaos, usually my chaos if I'm being honest. The idea of learning more about Indian magical practices piques my interest, and I make a mental note to ask her more about it when I get the chance.

The next letter is from Su, and I can already tell from the slightly crumpled edges of the parchment that she was nervous when writing it. Her handwriting is neat but shaky, as if she was second-guessing herself with every word. Which… Is so very Su.

Hi Lucas,

I hope you're doing well... Or, at least, better than you were when we last talked. I've been thinking a lot about everything that happened, and I just... I wanted to make sure you're okay. I know you're probably busy with... Well, whatever it is you're doing this summer, but... if you're not too busy, my mum thought it might be nice if you came to visit us? No pressure, of course! You don't have to come if you don't want to, or if you're too busy, or if you just don't feel like it. I completely understand! But... I'd really like it if you did. Mum's been going on and on about how she wants to meet you properly, and I think she's already planning to make all your favorite foods, even though I haven't actually told her what they are.

Anyway, you don't have to decide right away. Just... Think about it? And if you do decide to come, I promise I'll make sure everything is perfect. Or, at least, as close to perfect as I can manage. Okay, I'm rambling now, so I'll stop. Just... Take care, and let me know if you can make it.

P.s It's okay if you can't. Really.

Sincerely, Su.

The letter is endearing in its awkwardness, and I can almost picture Su fidgeting as she wrote it, trying to find the right words. The idea of visiting her and her family is tempting, though the thought of dealing with the awkwardness of meeting her mom again makes me a bit nervous. Still, it's nice to know that someone wants me around.

Next up is Neville's letter, and I can already tell from the slightly smudged ink that he was excited when he wrote it. He usually tries to be very precise nowadays, to impress his grandmother and the Professors.

Lucas!

You won't believe it - I'm going to Greece! Gran said it's a reward for doing so well in school, and I'm absolutely thrilled. We're going to visit some of the ancient magical sites there, and there's this whole garden of magical plants that I can't wait to see. They have species that don't grow anywhere else in the world, and I'm hoping to bring back some seeds to plant in the greenhouse at home.

I really wish you could come with us. I think you'd love it. But... I guess you're probably busy with... Well, you know, all that stuff you're dealing with. Speaking of which, I saw the news about the orphanage in the Prophet. Are you okay? I mean, I know you're staying at Hogwarts for the summer, but... It must have been awful, seeing that happen. If you need to talk, I'm here, okay? Just... Be careful, Lucas. You've been through a lot, and I don't want to see you get hurt again by doing something crazy.

At least bring backup!

Write back when you can,

Neville.

I sigh, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Neville's excitement about his trip is infectious, and I'm genuinely happy for him, but the mention of the orphanage... It brings back a flood of memories I'd rather not dwell on - there's no point in feeling sad, I couldn't have done anything. Still, it's nice to know he's thinking of me, even while he's off on such an amazing adventure.

I open the next letter, which is from Susan and Hannah. The parchment is covered in two distinct handwritings, Susan's neat and tidy, and Hannah's more loopy and playful. It's clear they had fun writing this together.

Lucas! (Hannah)

Hello Lucas, (Susan)

We're bored out of our minds, and we need you to come visit and save us from our misery! (Hannah)

Don't listen to her, Lucas. We're perfectly fine, and you don't need to rush over just because Hannah can't entertain herself for five minutes. (Susan)

That's not true! I just think it would be more fun if you were here. We could do something exciting, like explore the woods behind the house. I swear there's something magical out there, and I need your help to find it. (Hannah)

Or you could come over and just relax for once. No need for any grand adventures. We could all use a break after this year, and you especially deserve some peace and quiet. (Susan)

But seriously, Lucas, you can come over anytime. The old people that feed us said you're always welcome, and we'd love to see you. We're just having a lazy summer, hanging out, and it would be even better with you here. (Hannah)

And... We heard about what happened at the orphanage. I'm so sorry, Lucas. I know it must be really hard, losing friends and caretakers like that. (Susan)

Yeah, we're here for you, okay? Anytime you want to talk, or not talk, just be here with us. (Hannah)

Take care, and please write back soon! (Susan and Hannah)

Their letter brings a small smile to my face, even as I'm not sure how to respond. They don't know that I didn't have any real friends at the orphanage, that the place was more of a temporary lodging than a home. But their concern is genuine, and it means the world to me that they care so much.

The last letter is a surprise - it's from Hermione, short and to the point, as if she wrote it in a hurry.

Lucas,

I read about the fire at your orphanage in the Prophet. If you're actually dead, I'll be very cross with you. So, you'd better not be. I need someone to compete with for the top spot in the rankings this year. Don't let me down.

Best, Hermione.

I can't help but chuckle at her letter. Leave it to Hermione to turn even a concern for my well-being into a competition. Still, it's oddly comforting, knowing that she's already looking ahead to next year, expecting me to be right there with her. Although she hilariously believes I'll be anything but number one, which is cute.

As I set Hermione's letter aside, I notice the familiar owl of the Daily Prophet swooping down to deliver my copy. I reach out to grab the newspaper, unfolding it to reveal the headline splashed across the front page in bold, ominous letters:

Sirius Black Escapes from Azkaban.

I stare at the headline, my mind going blank for a moment before a single thought rises to the surface:

"Well, shit."

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