Return To Hogwarts

September 1, 1993, 6:55 AM, Twelve Grimmauld Place, London

Adam Clarke

The morning light filtered through the windows, and I stirred slowly, the remnants of another nexus vision still clinging to my consciousness like cobwebs. In my dream, I’d seen that pulsing heart carving again— its rhythm beating in time with something vast and terrible, stirring in the depths of the Abyss. The vision had been clearer this time. I could almost feel it against my skin, this time.

I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and dragging my hands through my hair. A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Adam? You awake?” Harry’s voice carried through the wood, mingling with the sounds of the house slowly waking up.

“Yeah, coming.” I called back, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The floorboards creaked under me as I crossed to my trunk, already packed and sitting by the window. September first. Back to Hogwarts, back to school. But I knew— nothing would be the same this year. Not with Grindelwald’s ritual looming on Halloween and Voldemort scheming in the shadows.

The kitchen was already bustling when I made my way downstairs. Sirius was at the stove, his dark hair pulled back as he battled a pan of scrambled eggs. I smiled despite myself. For all his enthusiasm as a parent, his cooking was still… questionable.

“Morning, kid.” He said without turning, somehow sensing I was there. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough.” I replied, sliding into my usual seat at the scarred wooden table. Harry was already there, buttering toast with the intense focus of someone avoiding goodbyes.

“Liar.” He said, not looking up. “You were muttering in your sleep. Another vision?”

“Someone’s been nosy again.” My hand drifted to my chest as I sent a disapproving look towards Harry.

He ignored it entirely.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” I said, instead, accepting the plate Sirius handed me.

“You know.” Sirius said, sitting down with a cup of tea. “When I was your age, I thought I could handle everything too. Nearly died three times before I figured out how to ask for help.”

“Only three?” Harry said, grinning. “I thought it was more like a dozen.”

“Cheeky brat.” Sirius replied fondly, ruffling Harry’s hair. “That’s what I get for raising a Potter. Your father was just as impossible.”

The banter eased some of the tension in my shoulders. This— this was what I’d missed in those first hard years after arriving in this world. The quiet comfort of family. Belonging. The adoption had made it official, sure, but the bond had been forming all throughout the past years, long talks, shared silence and survival.

“So.” Sirius continued, his tone shifting slightly. “What’s the plan for this year? Besides the usual excellent grades and heroic antics?”

I met Harry’s eyes. He nodded, smiling slightly.

“We’ll be careful.” I said. “No unnecessary risks. And we’ll write. A lot.”

“Define ‘unnecessary.’” Sirius said dryly. “Because I have a feeling our definitions don’t exactly match.”

Harry laughed, but I heard the tension behind it. “We’ll be fine, Sirius. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

“That’s what worries me.” He muttered, but there was warmth in his eyes. “The two of you are different for sure, but there’s one thing you both have in spades: stubbornness. Merlin help anyone in your way. Just promise me this?”

“What?”

“Don’t get yourselves killed.”

“I think I can do that.” I said, smiling. “All right. No deaths.”

The hour flew after that— last-minute checks, Sirius’ pointers about secret places we could look up. By the time we were ready to head to King’s Cross, he was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

Platform 9¾ was its usual chaos— students everywhere, trunks, owl cages, tearful goodbyes. The scarlet Hogwarts Express sat waiting like a slumbering dragon, steam curling up into the sky.

“Right then.” Sirius said, helping us unload our trunks, his voice overly casual. “This is it.”

Harry hugged him first, fierce and fast.

“Take care of yourself.” He mumbled. “No more motorcycle stunts while we’re gone.”

“I make no promises.” Sirius replied, voice thick even as he laughed it off. “You two look out for each other, yeah? And do try to have some fun, this time around?”

“Sure.”

When it was my turn, the hug lingered longer than I expected.

“I’m proud of you.” He whispered. “Both of you. Just… remember that fixating on your mission isn’t everything, yeah? Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is ask for help.”

I nodded, throat too tight to speak.

“I’ll try.”

“Do or do not.” Harry said, miming having elf ears.

“Okay, come here Yoda.” I said, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him along.

“Bye!” Harry shouted towards Sirius even as he was dragged away.

The train whistle shrieked. Students surged forward and I let go of Harry. We moved with them, turning to wave one last time. Sirius stood among the parents, oddly formal in his dark robes, hand raised in farewell.

“He’ll be fine.” Harry said as we slid into an empty compartment. “Amy will keep him in line.”

“I know.” I said, but my thoughts were already elsewhere. Somewhere in England, something ancient was waking. Grindelwald was preparing his ritual. Voldemort was moving unseen. And at the center of it all— somehow— it came down to me.

The rhythmic clacking of the train wheels filled the comfortable silence between me and Harry as we settled into our compartment. That familiar weight pressed against my chest— not quite sadness, but the bittersweet ache of leaving one chapter behind to begin another. Outside the window, London’s suburbs were fading, replaced by rolling green hills dotted with sheep and those old, crumbling stone walls I’d come to associate with home.

“I should probably go find Ron and Hermione.” Harry said after about an hour. He was fidgeting with his wand again, spinning it between his fingers the way he always did when he was anxious. A habit he’d picked up over the summer.

I nodded, catching the unspoken question behind his words. All summer, we’d been nearly inseparable— training, talking, leaning on each other. But Hogwarts meant separate houses, separate lives, drifting back into old circles and routines.

“Go on.” I said with a smile I had to force a little. “I need to find Tony and Su anyway. I promised I’d catch up with them properly.”

Harry paused at the compartment door. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” I said, smirking slightly. “Go on before I throw you out the window.”

“You first.” He grinned, suddenly looking like the thirteen-year-old he was supposed to be. “See you at the feast?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

When he left, I stayed there for a while, listening to the train and letting my thoughts drift. The void power was a low thrum in my chest now— steady, ever-present. I had learned to sense and even control it to a small degree, but those attempts had come with awareness too: how wrong it felt, how foreign.

It didn’t follow the rules of normal magic. I doubted anyone could explain it fully.

And I realized then— I’d been avoiding this. Seeing Tony and Su. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I wasn’t sure how to be me with them anymore. So much had happened since I’d last seen them…

No. They were my friends and I had to see them.

With a deep breath, I stood and stepped out into the corridor. The train was alive with activity— shouts from compartment doors, the sound of Exploding Snap, groups of nervous first-years huddled together. It was chaotic and noisy and oddly comforting.

I found Tony and Su three cars down. They were surrounded by textbooks and at least four different kinds of magical sweets. As I slid the compartment door open, Tony looked up— and immediately lit up.

“Adam!” He shouted, jumping up and nearly knocking over a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. “There you are! We thought you’d missed the train!”

Su looked up from a thick text, her eyes brightening.

“We saved you a seat.” She said, patting the spot beside her. “Though Tony’s eaten most of our chocolate frogs.”

“Research.” Tony said seriously as he sat down again. “I’m conducting an important study on the link between chocolate consumption and magical aptitude.”

“And what are your findings?” I asked, sliding into the seat and pulling the door shut behind me. The familiar rhythm of our banter hit like a balm— normal, uncomplicated, blissfully free of prophecy and doom.

“That chocolate improves everything.” Tony replied instantly. “It’s science.”

Su rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “He said he’s been practicing all summer.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to stop that for a little while.”

That caught my interest. “Practice? What kind?”

“Fighting, mostly.” He said, and his smile dipped slightly. “My grandmother’s a taskmaster, for sure.”

“Your grandmother— Oh. Porpentina, right?”

“The very same.” Tony said, shuddering slightly. “Don’t ever ask her to train you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I smiled before turning to Su. “What about you? How was your summer?”

Her expression shifted.

“Challenging.” She said quietly. “Mum hired a tutor, which was great. But the neighbors…”

I felt myself tense. “What happened?”

“Well, let’s just say the Longling Academy stuff didn’t help. People assumed that just because Longling betrayed the League, every Chinese wizard must be suspect.” Her voice was tight. “The tutor was great, but Mrs. Peddleton from down the road wouldn’t even walk past our house.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I said, anger flaring hot and immediate. “You had nothing to do with that.”

“Try telling her that.” Su said bitterly. “Apparently being Chinese is now suspicious.”

Tony reached over and grabbed her hand. “People are morons. Everyone who knows you knows you’re smart and loyal and a hundred times braver than they’ll ever be.”

Su smiled a little. “Thanks. It just… it sucks. I worked so hard last year. Now I feel like I’m starting over.”

“You’re not.” I said, the words coming out sharper than I meant. “You’re Ravenclaw. That means something. Anyone who has a problem with that can deal with me.”

The power inside me stirred at the edge of those emotions, whispering its approval. Cold. Hungry. I pushed it down hard. But Su had noticed.

“Adam.” She said carefully. “Are you okay? You seem… different.”

I tried to relax, to force the tension from my shoulders.

“Just tired.” I said. “It’s been a long summer.”

Tony was watching me with the sharp, analytical look that made him such a good Ravenclaw. “You are different. You look older. More serious.”

“I feel older.” I admitted. “A lot’s happened since June.”

“Want to talk about it?” Su asked softly.

I hesitated. How could I even begin to explain the nexus? The void? The growing dread of Halloween? Voldemort in the shadows, and Grindelwald continuing his campaign?

“Some of it.” I said finally. “But not here. Not on the train.”

They exchanged a glance and nodded.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Tony said. “We’ve got your back.”

“I know.” I said. “That… that means more than you know.”

The conversation drifted after that— books we hadn’t finished, general complaints about the homework. Still, I felt the shift under the surface. The two of them were growing up; changing. Tony’s confidence, Su’s resilience.

It was too fast, and yet there was nothing I could do to stop it. It made me both grieved and relieved; grieved, that they had lost their innocent; relieved, because they would be able to weather the coming storm.

Speaking of which… “How about we continue our practice sessions together, too? Us and Harry, Hermione and Ron.”

“You’d do that?” Su asked, brightening. “Even with everything else going on?”

“Especially because of everything else.” I said.

Tony practically bounced in his seat. “I’m in. I definitely want to test myself against everyone..”

“Then it’s settled.” I said. “Study group. We’ll keep each other sharp.”

Before long, we pulled into Hogsmeade Station, the train’s familiar shriek sending a thrill of anticipation through my chest. I pressed my face to the window, watching the small platform come into view through the gathering dusk. Lanterns flickered like fireflies in the darkness.

“Finally.” Tony said, stretching his arms above his head. “I thought we’d never get here. My legs have gone completely numb.”

Su was already gathering her books, efficiently organizing them back into her bag with the methodical precision that had made her one of Ravenclaw’s top students. “Come on, then. Let’s not keep the carriages waiting.”

I grabbed my trunk and followed them out into the corridor, which had transformed into a river of black robes and excited chatter. The cool September air hit my face as we stepped onto the platform, carrying with it the familiar scents of the Scottish Highlands— pine trees, damp earth, and something wilder that spoke of magic running deep beneath the mountains.

The chaos of hundreds of students trying to organize themselves was both overwhelming and oddly comforting. First-years clustered together like lost sheep, their eyes wide as they took in their first glimpse of the magical world beyond Diagon Alley. Older students shouted greetings across the platform, reuniting with friends they hadn’t seen all summer. And scattered throughout the crowd, I noticed the Ilvermorny students— still wearing their unfamiliar blue and cranberry robes, standing slightly apart with the careful dignity of refugees trying not to show their displacement.

“Poor things.” Su murmured, following my gaze. “They must feel so lost.”

Tony nodded grimly. “Yeah. They probably don’t know if they’ll have a school to go back to.”

I felt the same familiar pang of empathy I had at the party, not too long ago.

“We should try to make them feel welcome.” I said. “Invite them to study with us, maybe. Show them they’re not alone here.”

“That’s very Ravenclaw of you.” Tony said with a grin. “Always thinking about how to help others learn.”

“Hmph.” I said, turning my nose up at him. “I’m not a good person.”

We made our way through the crowd toward the carriages, following the general flow of students up the winding path from the station. The Thestral-drawn carriages waited in their usual neat line, looking for all the world like they were pulled by nothing more substantial than shadow and starlight. I paused for a moment, letting Tony and Su move ahead, and focused on the space between the carriage shafts.

There— the familiar outline of wings and bone, the gleam of white eyes in the darkness. Thestrals. Beautiful, terrible creatures that existed at the boundary between life and death, visible only to those who had witnessed mortality in its rawest form.

I’d been able to see them since my first day at Hogwarts, a consequence of the memories that had come with my arrival in this world. But now they meant something different to me— a connection to Absol, to the strange magic that flowed through creatures touched by death.

As if summoned by my thoughts, I felt a gentle brush against my consciousness— Absol’s presence, warm and familiar despite the miles between us. She was in the Forbidden Forest, I realized, lounging in a clearing with her tribe. The image came to me clearly: white forms moving like ghosts between the dark trees, their silvery-white wings catching fragments of moonlight as they gorged themselves on a nest of unfortunate squirrels.

~Safe.~ Her mental voice whispered to me, carrying undertones of contentment and lazy satisfaction. ~Waiting.~

I smiled, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders ease. Whatever challenges this year might bring, at least I wouldn’t be facing them entirely alone. Absol was here, watching over the forest that had become as much her home as mine. And somewhere in the castle above, Helena Ravenclaw waited.

“Adam?” Su’s voice brought me back to the present. She was standing beside one of the carriages, looking concerned. “Are you coming?”

“Sorry.” I said, hurrying to join them. “Just… thinking.”

Tony was already climbing into the carriage, chattering excitedly about the feast ahead and speculation about which professors might be new this year. I settled onto the worn leather seat beside him, with Su across from us, and tried to focus on their conversation rather than the darker thoughts that kept intruding.

The carriage lurched into motion. I could see Hogwarts rising from its rocky perch like something out of a fairy tale, its towers and turrets silhouetted against the star-studded sky. Lights flickered in hundreds of windows, promising warmth and safety and the comfortable routines of academic life.

But even as I felt the familiar pull of homecoming, I couldn’t shake the awareness of what lay beneath the surface. In the Forbidden Forest, creatures stirred with the restless energy of approaching autumn. More still: beyond the protective barriers of Hogwarts, forces were gathering that would test everything we thought we knew about the wizarding world.

“You’re doing it again.” Su said quietly, her dark eyes studying my face with uncomfortable perceptiveness. “That look you get when you’re thinking about things too big for any of us to handle.”

I forced a smile. “Sorry. It’s just good to be back, you know? Hogwarts feels like home in a way nowhere else does.”

“Even after everything that happened last year?” Tony asked. “The whole tournament disaster, the attack on Hogsmeade, all of it?”

“Especially after all of that.” I said, and realized I meant it. “This place has seen worse than whatever we’re facing now. It’s survived for a thousand years because it’s more than just stone and magic— it’s an idea. A promise that knowledge and learning and friendship are worth fighting for.”

Su smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen from her since the train. “That’s the most Ravenclaw thing you’ve ever said.”

“I am Ravenclaw.” I replied, touching the blue and bronze tie beneath my robes. “Sometimes I think I forget that, with everything else going on. But it’s important to remember why we’re here, what we’re part of.”

The carriage was slowing now, approaching the great entrance to the castle. Through the windows, I could see other students disembarking, their voices echoing off the stone walls as they streamed toward the massive oak doors. In a few minutes, we’d be inside, surrounded by the warmth and light of the Great Hall, listening to the Sorting Hat’s annual wisdom and Dumbledore’s welcoming words.

But for now, in the quiet darkness of the carriage, I allowed myself a moment of simple gratitude. I was here, at Hogwarts, with friends who cared about me and a familiar whose presence I could feel like a steady heartbeat in the back of my mind.

We climbed down from the carriage and joined the stream of students heading toward the castle. The great oak doors loomed before us, promising another year of learning and growth and the kind of adventures that seemed to follow me wherever I went. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped forward into whatever the future held.

A few of the Prefects spoke, and off we followed them, towards the Great Hall. As we entered it, I could tell that it seemed especially magnificent. Hundreds of candles floated across the enchanted ceiling, which reflected a perfect September night sky— deep purple velvet studded with stars that seemed close enough to touch. The four house tables stretched before us in their familiar configuration, already filled with returning students whose voices created a warm buzz of excitement and anticipation.

I followed Tony and Su to the Ravenclaw table, nodding to familiar faces as we found seats near the middle. The blue and bronze banners hanging from the rafters caught the candlelight, and I looked down, seeing Remus in the teacher’s seat. He sent me a nod, which I returned with a smile.

“Look at all the first-years.” Su whispered, getting my attention as she gestured toward the cluster of nervous eleven-year-olds huddled near the entrance. “They look terrified.”

“We all looked like that once.” Tony replied, grinning. “Remember how convinced you were that the Sorting Hat was going to reject you entirely?”

“I had very legitimate concerns about my qualifications.” Su said with dignity, but I could see her fighting back a smile.

I was only half-listening to their banter, my attention caught by the group of older students in unfamiliar robes standing slightly apart from the first-years. The Ilvermorny refugees— I could see the careful way they held themselves, trying to project confidence while their eyes darted around the Great Hall with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty. From first to seventh years, they were all here. Many were not old enough to understand exactly what they’d lost when MACUSA collapsed.

Professor McGonagall entered carrying the familiar three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat, its patched and weathered surface looking particularly ancient in the candlelight. The hall fell silent with practiced ease as the hat was placed on its perch, the annual moment of anticipation stretching like a held breath.

The hat’s brim opened wide, and it began to sing:

“In times of old when founders four
Built these walls with magic’s might,
They dreamed of students evermore
United in the quest for light.

But shadows gather ’round our world,
And darkness whispers in the wind,
While ancient banners are unfurled
By those who’d see our bonds rescind.

So hear me well, you young and old,
Who seek the wisdom these halls hold:
A house divided cannot stand—
Bridge the gaps, or suffer fate’s hand.

For Gryffindor’s courage burns bright,
While Hufflepuff’s loyalty runs deep,
Ravenclaw’s wisdom pierces night,
And Slytherin’s cunning secrets keep.

But stronger still than any one
Is the bond that makes us whole—
When different minds work as one,
They guard both body and soul.

So as I place you in your house,
Remember what I’ve sung tonight:
United we are strong, but house
Against house brings endless blight.”

The hat fell silent, and for a moment the Great Hall remained hushed. The usual cheerful applause felt muted, replaced by an undercurrent of unease. The Sorting Hat’s songs were often cryptic, but this one felt different— more urgent, more pointed. A warning rather than simple tradition.

I glanced around the table and saw my own concerns reflected in other faces. Even the professors at the high table looked troubled, though they quickly masked their expressions as the Sorting began.

“Bridge the gaps, or suffer fate’s hand.” Tony murmured beside me. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“The Hat’s got a sense for this sort of thing.” Su said.

I agreed, my memories of canon quite clear on the matter. The Sorting Hat likely had a way of sensing currents in the magical world that even the wisest wizards missed. If it was warning about division and conflict, we’d all do well to listen.

The Sorting proceeded with its usual mixture of nervous first-years and enthusiastic house cheers, but I found myself studying the reactions more carefully than usual. Were the cheers for new Slytherins slightly less enthusiastic than usual? Did the other houses seem to be watching Slytherin table with more suspicion? Or was I simply looking for signs of the division the hat had warned against?

When the last first-year had been sorted into Hufflepuff, McGonagall gathered up the hat and stool, but instead of sitting down, she remained standing beside the high table. The hall grew quiet again, sensing that something unusual was about to happen.

Dumbledore rose slowly, his blue robes seeming to catch and hold the candlelight. When he spoke, his voice carried easily through the great space, warm and authoritative despite the gravity of his words.

“Welcome.” He began, his eyes twinkling as they swept across the assembled students. “To another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before we begin our feast, I have some important announcements to make.”

“First.” He said as he gestured to Remus, who was doing his best to avoid the attention. “I’m pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. Good luck, Professor.”

A round of applause came, and Tony smacked me in the shoulder.

“Ow!” I said, looking at him as I rubbed the sore spot. “What?”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“Me neither.” Su piped up, looking a little miffed with me.

“What?” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “Remus— Professor Lupin— wanted it kept hush hush. Go hit him, instead, why don’t you?”

Heedless of our exchange, Dumbledore gestured toward the group of older students still standing uncertainly near the entrance. “This year, we have the honor of hosting the body of students from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in North America. Due to recent… difficulties… in their homeland, they will be completing their magical education here with us.”

A murmur ran through the hall— not unkind, but curious and slightly awkward. I could see the Ilvermorny students stiffen, their carefully maintained composure wavering slightly at being made the center of attention.

“These students.” Dumbledore continued, his voice taking on a firmer tone. “Have already proven their worth through their achievements at one of the finest magical institutions in the world. They come to us not as refugees or charity cases, but as fellow scholars seeking knowledge and understanding. I expect— no, I demand— that they be treated with the same courtesy and respect we would show any transfer student.”

His eyes seemed to linger meaningfully on certain sections of the hall, and I noticed several students shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

“To our Ilvermorny guests.” Dumbledore said, turning to address them directly. “Know that Hogwarts has always been a sanctuary for those who seek wisdom and truth. Our doors are open to you, our resources are at your disposal, and our friendship is freely offered. You are not visitors here— you are Hogwarts students, with all the rights and responsibilities that entails.”

The Ilvermorny students seemed to relax slightly, and I saw a few of them exchanging glances that looked almost hopeful.

“The Sorting Hat.” Dumbledore continued. “Has reminded us tonight of a truth we would do well to remember: that our strength comes not from our differences, but from our unity despite those differences. In the days ahead, we will face challenges that will test not only our magical abilities but our character. How we respond to those challenges— how we treat each other, how we support those in need, how we stand together against the forces that would divide us— will determine not only our success as a school, but our worth as human beings.”

The hall was completely silent now, hanging on every word. I could feel the weight of Dumbledore’s message settling over us like a physical presence.

“Therefore.” He said, his voice growing stronger. “I am implementing a new tradition this year. Each house will be paired with another for certain activities and projects. Gryffindor with Slytherin, Ravenclaw with Hufflepuff. You will work together, learn from each other, and discover that the qualities that seem to divide us are actually complementary strengths.”

The reaction was immediate and intense. Students began talking among themselves, some sounding excited, others distinctly less enthusiastic. I heard a distinctly disgusted snort from the direction of the Slytherin table and saw several Gryffindors looking like they’d just been asked to partner with blast-ended skrewts.

“Furthermore.” Dumbledore continued, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the murmur. “I am establishing a new student organization: the Unity Council. This council will consist of two representatives from each house, chosen by their peers, who will work together to address inter-house conflicts and promote cooperation. The first elections will be held next week.”

I felt Tony elbow me in the ribs. “You should run for that.” He whispered. “You’d be perfect for it.”

I shook my head automatically, but even as I did, I could feel something stirring in my chest— not the void power this time, but something warmer. A sense of rightness, of purpose. The visions had shown me glimpses of what was coming, the forces that were gathering to tear the Wizarding World apart. If Dumbledore was trying to build unity, to strengthen the bonds between students who would soon be facing unimaginable challenges, then maybe that was exactly where I needed to be.

“I know.” Dumbledore said, his voice gentle but carrying an unmistakable note of steel. “That some of you may find these changes difficult. Old habits die hard, and old prejudices even harder. But I have seen what happens when fear and suspicion are allowed to fester unchallenged. I have seen communities torn apart, families destroyed, and entire nations brought to their knees by the poison of division.”

His eyes seemed to find mine across the crowded hall, and for a moment I felt the weight of his knowledge, the burden of his long years and hard-won wisdom.

“We will not allow that to happen here.” He said firmly. “Hogwarts has stood for a thousand years because it represents something more than just magical education. It represents hope— the hope that different kinds of people can live and work and learn together, that knowledge and understanding can triumph over ignorance and fear, that the bonds we forge in our youth can sustain us through the darkest of times.”

He paused, letting his words sink in, then spread his arms wide in a gesture that somehow encompassed the entire hall.

“So let us begin this year not with suspicion or resentment, but with open hearts and minds. Let us remember that we are all Hogwarts students first, house members second. Let us prove that the Sorting Hat’s faith in us is well-founded, and that when the time comes to stand together, we will not be found wanting.”

The applause that followed was thunderous, but I noticed it wasn’t entirely uniform. Some students clapped with genuine enthusiasm, others with polite obligation, and a few not at all. The division the Sorting Hat had warned against was already visible, simmering beneath the surface like a cauldron on the verge of boiling over.

As the noise died down and Professor McGonagall began directing the Ilvermorny students to their temporary house assignments, I felt the familiar weight of responsibility settling on my shoulders. The nexus visions, the void power, the growing certainty that I was meant to play a role in whatever was coming— it all suddenly felt more real, more urgent.

The Unity Council. The idea planted itself in my mind like a seed, growing stronger with each passing moment. If I was going to help prepare Hogwarts for what was coming, if I was going to have any hope of protecting the people I cared about, then I needed to be in a position to make a difference.

“You’re thinking about running, aren’t you?” Su said quietly, reading my expression with the unnerving accuracy that made her such a good Ravenclaw.

I nodded slowly. “Someone has to try to make this work. And if the Sorting Hat is right about what’s coming…”

“Then we’ll need all the unity we can get.” Tony finished. “Count on our votes, then. And our help, if you want it.”

I looked around the Great Hall, taking in the mixture of excitement and uncertainty on hundreds of faces, the careful way the Ilvermorny students were trying to find their place among us, the subtle but unmistakable signs of the divisions that were already beginning to form.

The void power stirred in my chest, responding to my emotional state, but for once it didn’t feel cold or alien. Instead, it felt like potential— raw, dangerous, but mine to shape and direct. Power in service of something greater than myself.

“Yeah.” I said quietly, as the feast finally began to appear on the golden plates before us. “I think I will run.”

Before anyone could reply, the table became awash with a myriad of colors, smells and sights. Golden plates groaned under heaps of roast chicken, creamy mashed potatoes, and glistening desserts. The air filled with the clink of goblets and the warm hum of conversation.

For their parts, Tony and Su sat quieter than usual, their plates untouched, their gazes flickering to the Ilvermorny students huddled at a temporary table near the Hufflepuffs. The refugees’ cranberry-and-blue robes looked out of place, their faces tight with the effort to belong. I knew that look— displacement, loss, the ache of starting over. It was mine, once.

“Tony.” I said softly, nudging his elbow. “You going to let that Yorkshire pudding go to waste?”

He blinked, as if waking from a thought. “Just… thinking about MACUSA.”

He admitted, voice low.

“My mum said the attacks left half the wizarding families in Boston homeless. Those kids— ” He nodded toward the Ilvermorny table, where a girl with a Thunderbird pin stared at her plate. “They’ve got nothing left.”

“True.” I said, though I smiled. “But look at them properly.”

As they did, I continued to speak. “They’ve tasted the bitterness of defeat, and now they’re finding their resolve, their place in the world.”

Su and Tony turned to me.

“They’re survivors, like you.”

Tony managed a small smile, but Su’s shoulders stayed tense. I glanced at their plates again— empty, despite the feast’s bounty. An idea sparked, something small but real. Under the table, I flicked my fingers, wandlessly summoning a few things from a bit ahead in the table.

Tony’s jaw dropped at the sight of a porterhouse steak.

“Adam, you— ” He laughed, a bright sound that cut through the hall’s murmur. “How’d you know I was craving this?”

Su’s eyes widened at the plate of buns before her.

“Mooncakes! You remembered.” She said, picking up a bun, her voice thick with gratitude. “My mum makes these around this time…”

“Ravenclaw memory.” I said, tapping my temple with a grin, though my hand trembled faintly from the casual exertion; I still wasn’t as strong as I hoped I’d be. “Can’t let my study group go hungry, can we?”

A laugh met my words, and I smiled.

“Speaking of which…” Tony said as he happily dove into his meal. “When are we starting?”

“Oh. I figure we’ll star next week. Charms, Transfiguration, dueling. And—” I glanced at the Ilvermorny table. “We could invite them. Show them Hogwarts is home now.”

“That’s brilliant.” Tony said, spooning soup with renewed energy. “They’ll need friends. And who better than you?”

Su nodded, biting into a bun, though she sent me a strange look. “And yourself?”

“Oh, no. I’d make a terrible friend.” I said, winking at her. “Besides, I’ve got plenty of friends already.”

My eyes drifted across the hall, catching movement at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy, pale and sharp-edged, met my gaze for a split second. His expression flickered— projecting a sense of urgency. I nodded subtly, a silent promise, but my stomach twisted. Voldemort’s shadow loomed over him, just as Grindelwald’s ritual loomed over us all. Nearby, a Gryffindor glared at a Slytherin, their tension palpable despite Dumbledore’s pairing plan.

There’s going to be a lot of nonsense to sort through, isn’t there?

Half an hour later, I found myself standing in my dorm room. It was a sanctuary of quiet, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window. I sank onto my four-poster bed, the familiar creak of its frame grounding me after the Great Hall’s clamor.

My trunk sat open by the window, the Resurrection Stone tucked safely inside.

I reached out through my link with Absol, sending a pulse of warmth toward the Forbidden Forest. Her presence answered instantly, vivid and wild: a clearing dappled with moonlight, white wings glinting as she lounged among the Thestral herd. Her contentment washed over me— lazy stretches, the rustle of leaves, the faint scent of pine.

~Safe.~ Her mental voice murmured again, laced with a playful, mildly exasperated, nudge, as if chiding me for worrying.

I smiled, picturing her white eyes, so like mine when the void took hold.

~I’ll visit tomorrow.~ I whispered, knowing she’d sense my promise.

A chill brushed my neck, soft as a sigh. I turned, and there was Helena Ravenclaw, gliding through the wall like moonlight through mist. Her ghostly form shimmered, dark hair trailing as she paused, her eyes— wise, sorrowful— meeting mine.

“Zero.” She said, delighted. “You’ve returned.”

I stood, crossing the room in two steps, and her arms wrapped around me in a hug that felt almost real, warm and grounding.

“Helena.” I murmured, relief flooding me. “I missed you.”

She drew back, her smile tinged with something I couldn’t place— worry, perhaps, or recognition.

“You’ve carried much this summer.” She said, gesturing to my bed. “Sit. Tell me everything.”

I obeyed, words spilling out as if a dam had broken. I told her everything— from the visions, to the trips through strange portals, to Cassius Black, to Ancient Magic, to the ritual in the Abyss. I summed it all up as best as I could, but I had to backtrack on multiple occasions.

By the end of it, I felt breathless.

Helena listened to it all, her ghostly form flickering all the while. When I finished, silence hung between us, heavy with truth.

“Using that energy. You’ve chosen to walk the dangerous path, then. You seemed so against it before.” She said at last, her voice low. “As you said, your ‘void’ is not merely power— it is a bridge to the Abyss; it was not a kind place to be in.”

Her eyes darkened, recalling her own tie to that liminal space. “The stirring you sense, this creature beyond the Veil’s portal— it cannot be a mere vision.”

“How do I stop it, though?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “There are so many moving parts, and I’m not sure I’ll be ready in time…”

Helena’s hand hovered over mine, steadying me.

“You are not your fear.” She said firmly. “You are of Ravenclaw House— chosen for your mind, your heart, and you are not alone.” Her gaze softened. “Alef Ard watches over you. Absol guards your spirit. Your friends— Tony, Su, Harry— lend you strength. And I…”

She paused, raising a hand over her heart. “I will help you, my love. Through the Abyss, through the nexus, through whatever darkness comes.”

I nodded, throat tight as we embraced.

“Thank you.” I managed. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The smile she gave me was like the flicker of starlight.