Shadows And Certainties

September 21, 1993, 4:50 PM, Library, Hogwarts

Adam Clarke

The ancient wooden table in the library creaked softly as I shifted my weight, pen scratching against parchment as I finished the last few lines of my Charms essay. Professor Flitwick had assigned us a particularly challenging piece on the theoretical applications of the Confundus Charm, and I’d spent the better part of two hours wrestling with the intricacies of magical sympathy between the caster and the target. The words flowed easier now that I was near the end, my hand moving almost automatically as I concluded my analysis of how emotional resonance could strengthen the charm’s effectiveness.

I set down my pen and flexed my cramped fingers, glancing around the library’s familiar warmth. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows, showing dust motes dancing lazily in the air.

Weeks.

That thought gave me pause as I began gathering my materials. Had it really been weeks already since the start of term? The days seemed to blur together in an endless cycle of classes, homework, independent practice, and research. Wake up, breakfast, classes, lunch, more classes, dinner, homework, practice, sleep, repeat. The routine had swallowed me whole without me even noticing.

O.W.L.s are pretty hefty when it comes to course work.

I rolled up my completed essay and slipped it into my bag, my mind wandering as I organized my notes. September was already drawing to a close, and I could feel the familiar weight of anticipation building in my chest. It wasn’t just the changing of seasons— though the Scottish air had taken on that crisp edge that spoke of autumn’s arrival— but something deeper, more urgent.

Grindelwald’s ritual to open a portal to the Abyss.

Every fiber of my being screamed that it was coming soon. The visions I’d shared with Harry and Sirius, as well as the independent research we’d done hadn’t given me a specific time and place, but my gut instinct had been growing stronger with each passing day.

Halloween. It had to be Halloween.

Everything important in the original timeline seemed to revolve around that cursed date— Voldemort’s first defeat, the troll in the dungeon, the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, etc.

The pattern felt too strong to ignore.

Six weeks until Halloween. Six weeks to figure out where Grindelwald planned to conduct his ritual, six weeks to prepare for what was certainly going to be another catastrophic confrontation.

The memory surfaced unbidden— Cassius Black’s weathered face in the torchlit chamber beneath Grimmauld Place, his eyes grave as he spoke of the world’s energies being shifted around for some unknown purpose. I remembered the map he’d shown us; that incredible, yet flawed three-dimensional projection of magical currents flowing across the globe like luminous rivers. He’d called them the world’s energy pathways, but I couldn’t help thinking of them as ley lines. The term wasn’t quite accurate— these were something far more complex and ancient— but it was the closest comparison my mind could make.

All I knew was that I needed to see that map again, and soon.

My footsteps echoed softly on the library’s stone floor as I made my way toward the exit. Madam Pince barely glanced up from her desk where she was cataloging a stack of returned books, her sharp eyes focused on checking for damage with the intensity of a hawk hunting for prey.

The corridor outside the library felt cooler, and I could hear the distant sounds of students making their way to an early dinner. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I’d skipped lunch in favor of just walking around. The prospect of roast beef and mash was certainly appealing, but my mind was already racing ahead to what I planned to do afterward.

I’d wait until after dinner, when most students were either socializing in their common rooms or heading to bed.

Then, I’d make my way outside of Hogwarts to Apparate to Grimmauld Place. Harry would probably want to come with me— he’d been just as invested in understanding Ancient Magic and its implications— but part of me wanted to examine the map alone first. There was something about the way those energy streams had pulsed and flowed that had been nagging at me, a pattern I couldn’t quite grasp but felt was important.

The late September air carried the scent of woodsmoke and dying leaves as I passed by a window. Below in the courtyard, I could see a group of second-years practicing their Transfiguration homework, attempting to turn beetles into buttons with varying degrees of success. One poor beetle had been turned into something that looked more like a misshapen coin, while another had sprouted what appeared to be tiny button-holes but retained its legs and antennae.

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. There was something reassuring about the normalcy of it all— students struggling with their homework, the familiar rhythm of castle life, the simple problems that could be solved with a bit more practice and concentration.

I didn’t linger, picking up the pace slightly. The sooner I had dinner, the sooner I could properly plan my escape out of the castle.

I was halfway to the Great Hall when I saw it— a soul thread hanging in the air ahead of me, pulsing with the distinctive silvery-blue light that marked a living person. The problem was, there was absolutely nothing visible beneath it.

My steps didn’t falter, but my mind immediately went on high alert. Someone was following me under an invisibility cloak or disillusionment charm. The thread bobbed gently about five and a half feet off the ground, moving with the subtle rhythm of someone trying to walk quietly.

I kept my pace steady, giving no outward sign that I’d noticed anything unusual. My hand casually drifted closer to my wand, fingers brushing against the familiar ebony through the fabric of my pocket. Whoever this was, they’d positioned themselves directly in my path— not the behavior of someone trying to avoid detection, but rather someone who wanted to intercept me.

The question was whether they were friend or foe.

I took a left turn down the corridor leading toward the moving staircases, my footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The person with the soul thread followed, maintaining a distance of about fifteen feet behind me. Good enough to keep their distance, but not enough to realize I’d caught them.

I suppose it’s not surprising; never heard of anyone other than me and Grindelwald who could actually perceive the soul threads of others.

A group of chattering fourth-year Hufflepuffs passed by, their arms full of Herbology textbooks and their robes stained with what looked like dragon dung fertilizer. The soul thread shifted slightly to the side to avoid them, confirming that my invisible follower was indeed trying to remain undetected by the general population. They just hadn’t counted on me being able to track them so easily.

I paused at the portrait of Sir Cadogan, pretending to listen to the knight’s boastful recounting of his victory over a band of errant knights who’d been terrorizing the countryside. The soul thread stopped as well, maintaining its distance.

Patient, then, and cautious.

Those were good signs if this was someone who meant me no harm, but they could equally be the marks of a skilled assassin waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Is that so, Sir Cadogan?” I said loudly to the portrait, my voice carrying down the corridor. “You managed to dispatch them all without taking a scratch? Impressive.”

The knight puffed up with pride, launching into an explanation of sword stances and defenses that would’ve made a friend from my previous life sit and take notes. I used Cadogan’s booming voice as cover to listen carefully for any sound from my follower— a shifted foot, a rustle of fabric, even the soft whisper of breathing.

Nothing.

A muffling charm, then.

I waited until Sir Cadogan was done with his explanation before excusing myself, citing the need to meet someone. Then, I resumed walking, taking another turn that led toward a less-traveled section of the castle. The corridors here were narrower, with fewer portraits and side passages. If my follower had hostile intentions, this would be where they’d make their move. If they were friendly, they’d hopefully reveal themselves before we got too isolated.

The soul thread continued to follow.

I passed by the entrance to an abandoned classroom, one of dozens scattered throughout Hogwarts that had fallen into disuse over the centuries. The door was slightly ajar, and I could tell that it was empty, and that it hadn’t been cleaned in some time.

Perfect.

I slipped into the empty classroom. The door creaked softly as I pushed it open just wide enough to slip through, then left it slightly ajar as I’d found it.

The classroom was small and cramped, with desks pushed against one wall and a chalkboard that had seen better days. Dust covered everything in a fine layer, and the air smelled of disuse and old parchment. I positioned myself near the far window, turning my back to the door and gazing out at the grounds below as if lost in thought.

Now I just had to wait.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. I could hear the distant sounds of the castle— students talking in far-off corridors, the occasional hoot of an owl, the whisper of wind through the ancient stones. But from the corridor immediately outside, nothing.

Had they given up? Did they realize I was onto them? I was beginning to think I’d been overly paranoid when I finally heard it— the softest whisper of a footstep just outside the door.

The soul thread appeared in my peripheral vision, hovering just inside the doorway. My invisible follower had indeed decided to follow me.

Very patient, cautious, but still brave enough to follow through.

I remained perfectly still, watching the grounds through the dirty window while every muscle in my body coiled like a spring. The soul thread moved closer, step by careful step. They were being incredibly cautious, probably trying to determine if I’d noticed them or if this was just a random stop.

Ten feet away. Eight. Six.

I could feel their presence now, that peculiar weight of someone’s attention focused entirely on me. They’d stopped moving, probably trying to decide what to do next. The moment stretched out.

That’s when I decided I wasn’t going to wait to see what would happen.

I spun around and raised my wand in one fluid motion, my mind already forming the incantation as I faced the empty air where I knew my follower stood. “Stupefy!”

The red bolt of light shot from my wand tip, crackling through the dusty air— only to be deflected by a hastily conjured shield charm that shimmered into visibility for a split second before vanishing again. My invisible opponent was fast, I’d give them that.

“Expelliarmus!” Came the immediate counter-attack, the disarming spell streaking toward me from roughly where I’d expected it to come from.

I threw myself to the side, the spell missing me by inches and shattering a grimy window behind me. Glass tinkled to the floor as I rolled behind one of the desks, using it as cover while I planned my next move. Whoever this was, they were skilled enough to cast while maintaining their invisibility. That narrowed down the possibilities considerably.

Reducto!

I cast, sending the curse toward the last position I’d seen the soul thread occupy.

The spell struck an empty desk, reducing it to splinters and filling the air with wooden debris. But I’d already seen the soul thread moving, my opponent having dodged to the left the moment I’d started my incantation. They were reading my body language, anticipating my attacks.

A Tickling Hex came at me from a new angle, forcing me to duck as the silver light passed over my head. I responded immediately with a binding curse, the golden ropes of light shooting toward where the soul thread now hovered. Again, they dodged, but this time I was ready for it.

“Accio!” I cast a Summoning Charm with my left hand while simultaneously sending a silent tripping jinx toward where I predicted they’d move next.

The maneuver paid off. I heard a surprised grunt as my opponent stumbled, the soul thread wavering unsteadily for a moment. I pressed my advantage, firing off a rapid sequence of spells— a Stinging Hex, another Stunner, and a Jelly-Legs Jinx in quick succession.

My invisible opponent recovered faster than I’d hoped, deflecting the first two spells and dodging the third by what must have been mere inches. Their return volley was equally impressive— a Severing Charm that I barely managed to sidestep, followed by a Banishing Hex that sent me sliding backward across the dusty floor.

I regained my footing just in time to see the soul thread moving in a wide circle around the room, clearly trying to get behind me. They were using movement and positioning rather than relying purely on raw power and skill.

The realization made me reassess my tactics entirely.

Instead of trying to match their mobility, I decided to take away their advantage.

“Colloportus!” I sealed the classroom door, trapping us both inside the confined space. Then, without giving my opponent time to react to this change, I pointed my wand at the floor beneath where the soul thread hovered.

Terra Viscus!

The transfiguration took hold immediately. The solid stone floor beneath my invisible opponent’s feet transformed into thick, glutinous mud that clung like quicksand. I heard a sharp cry of alarm as they suddenly found themselves sinking up to their knees in the treacherous surface.

Expelliarmus!

This time, there was nowhere to dodge. The spell struck true, and I watched with satisfaction as a wand went flying through the air to clatter across the floor near the sealed door. The moment it left their grasp, a shimmer ran through the air above the muddy patch of floor, and suddenly I could see exactly who had been following me.

Draco Malfoy stood waist-deep in magically transformed mud, his usually pristine robes dirty and disheveled, his pale face flushed with exertion and what might have been mild embarrassment. His gray eyes were wide with surprise, and his platinum hair was mussed from the brief but intense duel we’d just engaged in.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I stood there with my wand still pointed at him, trying to process the fact that it was Draco— Draco— who had been stalking me through the corridors under an invisibility cloak. The same Draco who had been feeding me information about Death Eater activities, who had been slowly but surely abandoning the poisonous worldview his father had instilled in him.

The same Draco who had apparently just tried to curse me.

I felt something cold settle in my stomach as I looked down at him struggling in the mud. Had I been wrong about him? Had his apparent change of heart been nothing more than an elaborate deception? The thought made me feel sick, not just because of the betrayal it would represent, but because of what it would mean for Draco himself.

“Well.” I said finally, my voice carefully neutral despite the turmoil in my chest. “This is unexpected.”

Draco opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again, seeming to struggle with what to say. His hands were braced against the muddy surface, trying to find purchase to pull himself up, but the transfigured stone offered no grip.

I walked closer, close enough that I could see the individual droplets of sweat on his forehead, close enough to read the expression in his eyes. What I saw there wasn’t the cold calculation I might have expected from someone who had been trying to ambush me. Instead, there was something that looked almost like panic, mixed with what might have been genuine confusion.

“Did you just try to kill me, Draco?” I asked quietly, keeping my wand trained on him but not casting any additional spells. Not yet.

The words hit Draco like a physical blow. I watched his soul thread recoil, the silver-blue light flickering with what I’d learned to recognize as genuine shock and hurt. His gray eyes widened even further, and for a moment he looked less like the composed Slytherin heir and more like the twelve-year-old boy he actually was.

“Kill you?” he repeated, his voice cracking slightly. “I— no, I wasn’t trying to— “

He struggled against the mud again, frustration evident in every line of his body as he sent me a glare. “You attacked me first!”

I felt my jaw tighten. “After you followed me invisibly through half the castle. What exactly was I supposed to think?”

“I was trying to approach you!” Draco shot back, some of his usual fire returning despite his undignified position. “I was about to reveal myself when you spun around and started throwing curses!”

I studied his face carefully, watching the way his soul thread moved. The patterns were erratic, yes, but not in the way that suggested deception. This was the chaotic flutter of someone who was genuinely upset, genuinely confused by the turn of events. Still, I couldn’t quite bring myself to lower my wand.

“So you just happened to be following me under an invisibility cloak for perfectly innocent reasons.” I said, letting skepticism color my voice. “How convenient.”

Something in my tone must have struck deeper than I’d intended, because Draco’s expression crumpled slightly. The defiance drained out of him, replaced by something that looked almost like desperation.

“You don’t believe me.” He said quietly. It wasn’t a question.

“Should I?” The words came out harsher than I’d meant them to, but I couldn’t take them back now.

Draco flinched as if I’d slapped him. His soul thread darkened, the bright silver-blue taking on deeper, more turbulent hues that spoke of pain. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I thought— I thought we were past that.”

The raw hurt in his voice made something twist in my chest. I’d heard Draco sound angry, arrogant, afraid, and calculating, but I’d never heard him sound quite so… lost. As if the ground had shifted beneath his feet and he wasn’t sure where he stood anymore.

I found myself thinking about the information he’d been feeding me through Dobby over the past few weeks. Details about Death Eater movements, warnings about planned attacks, intelligence that I’d relayed to Dumbledore through anonymous means, which had undoubtedly saved lives. Why would he do that if he was still playing for the other side? What possible advantage could there be in such an elaborate deception?

“I want to believe you.” I said finally, and was surprised by how much I meant it. “But you have to understand how this looks. Following someone invisibly isn’t exactly the behavior of someone who just wants to talk.”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath. When he opened them again, there was a resolved quality to his expression that I recognized— the look of someone who had made a difficult decision.

“You know I couldn’t be seen talking to you.” He said quietly. “Not openly. If word got back to my father that I was associating with you beyond insults…”

He trailed off, but I could fill in the blanks. Lucius Malfoy wasn’t known for his tolerance of what he would see as betrayal.

“So you thought stalking me through the corridors was a better option?”

“I was going to reveal myself once we were somewhere private.” Draco insisted. “I just needed to make sure we weren’t observed. But then you led me to that empty classroom and I thought— I thought maybe you’d noticed me and were giving me an opportunity to approach safely.”

I felt some of the tension in my shoulders ease. That… actually made sense. If Draco genuinely had information to share but couldn’t risk being seen talking to me, then following me invisibly until we were alone would be a logical approach. Not a particularly smart one, given how suspicious it looked, but logical in its own way.

“You could have just sent another message through Dobby.” I pointed out.

“This was too important for Dobby, but even if it wasn’t, he’s busy with running errands for the family, currently.” Draco replied. “I needed to speak with you directly. It’s urgent.”

The word ‘urgent’ made my pulse quicken. “What’s happened?”

But before he could answer, I realized I was still standing over him with my wand drawn while he was trapped waist-deep in transfigured mud. Whatever information he had to share, this wasn’t the way to receive it. I lowered my wand and moved closer.

“Here.” I said, extending my free hand toward him. “Let me help you up.”

Draco stared at my outstretched hand for a moment, and I could see the conflict playing out across his features. Pride warring with practicality, suspicion battling with hope. Finally, he reached out and grasped my hand, his fingers cold and slightly trembling.

I braced myself and pulled, using my wand to gradually return the floor to its normal stone consistency as I did so. It took some effort— Draco was heavier than he looked, and the mud clung to him stubbornly— but eventually I managed to haul him up onto solid ground.

He stood there for a moment, brushing ineffectively at the mud caked on his robes, and I could see him struggling with what to say next. With a wave of my wand, he was mud-free and clean.

“I believe you.” I said quietly, and watched relief flood across his features. “But next time you need to talk to me urgently, maybe try a different approach. A note in my bag, a ‘confrontation’ in a corridor— anything but invisible stalking.”

Draco nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course. I didn’t think— I was just focused on not being seen, not on how it would appear to you.”

“Fair enough.” I bent down and retrieved his wand from where it had fallen near the door, holding it out to him handle-first. “Now, what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait for Dobby to be free?”

Draco took his wand with hands that were still slightly unsteady, sliding it back into his robes with obvious relief. The familiar weight of it seemed to restore some of his composure, though he still looked thoroughly disheveled from our brief duel.

“Thank you.” He said quietly, and I could tell the words weren’t just about the wand. I moved to unseal the classroom door with a quick Unlocking Charm, then turned back to face him.

“You’re welcome. Now, about that information?”

Draco glanced toward the door, his expression growing troubled. “Not here. Even with the door sealed, sound can carry in these old corridors. Too many portraits with sharp ears and loose tongues.”

He had a point. The castle’s portraits were notorious gossips, and some of them had connections that stretched far beyond Hogwarts’ walls. If we were going to discuss sensitive information about Death Eater activities, we needed true privacy.

“Where, then?” I asked.

“The Astronomy Tower.” Draco suggested after a moment’s thought. “The observation deck. It’s open air, so no chance of being overheard by portraits, and at this time of day it should be deserted. Professor Sinistra doesn’t hold classes there until after dinner.”

I nodded. It was a good choice— isolated, with clear sightlines in all directions so we could spot anyone approaching. “Let’s go, then. Turn invisible, first.”

“So long as you don’t try to kill me again.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“How will you follow me?” Draco asked just as he was about to cast the spell.

“I can still see you.”

“How? I thought I’d mastered the spell…”

“You have.” I said, smiling slightly at his curious expression. “Let’s just say it’s a secret of mine, and very few people have the means of seeing you.”

“Right…” Draco mused as he tapped the wand atop his head and murmured the spell. Within seconds, there was no sign of him beyond the soul thread above his head. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” I said and cast the Disillusionment Charm as well, disappearing from view.

We made our way through the castle in silence, taking a circuitous route that avoided the busier corridors. Draco moved with practiced ease through the less-traveled passages, and I found myself wondering how many times he’d needed to be covert during his time in the summer. The thought was sobering.

His paranoia was understandable, but it also highlighted just how dangerous his position had become. He was walking a tightrope between two worlds, trusted by neither side, with everything to lose if he fell.

The observation deck was indeed deserted when we reached it. A cool breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves and woodsmoke from the grounds below, and I could hear the distant sounds of students making their way to dinner.

Draco moved to the far edge of the platform, leaning against the stone parapet and staring out over the grounds. For a moment he didn’t speak, and I found myself studying his profile in the golden, though steadily reddening light. There was a tension in his shoulders that spoke of stress and fear, but also something else— a kind of determined resignation that I’d seen in soldiers preparing for battle.

“This is much harder than I thought it would be.” He said finally.

“Talking to me?”

“No.” He turned to face me. “Living with what I know. Pretending to be someone I’m not. Watching my father make plans that I know will end in disaster, and not being able to say anything to stop him.”

I moved closer, keeping my voice gentle. “What kind of plans, Draco?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his hands gripping the stone parapet so tightly his knuckles were white. When he finally spoke, the words came out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for too long.

“They’re accelerating everything. There are new people arriving at the Manor constantly, wizards I don’t recognize from all over Europe. Some of them don’t even speak English properly.”

“Foreign recruits.” I murmured, thinking of Grindelwald’s growing international following.

“More than recruits.” Draco corrected. “Some of them are carrying artifacts, ancient things that make the air around them feel… wrong. Cold and heavy, like standing too close to a Dementor but different somehow.”

That got my attention immediately. Artifacts for a ritual— it had to be connected to Grindelwald’s plan to open the portal to the Abyss. “What kind of artifacts?”

“I don’t know exactly. Father won’t let me near them, and says I’m too inexperienced to understand their significance. But I’ve seen them being moved through the Manor. Strange stones that seem to suck all the light and warmth out of a room, metal… things, carved with runes and humming with power— nothing like I’ve ever seen— and I’ve seen some strange things, Clarke.”

I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn wind. The description somewhat matched what I’d seen in my visions— the ritual chamber filled with arcane implements, the sense of ancient power gathering for some terrible purpose.

Was Voldemort actively aiding Grindelwald?

“They’re building up for something.”

“You’d be right, but… When is this happening?” I asked. “Do you know the timeline?”

Draco nodded grimly. “Soon. Very soon. My father’s been talking about ‘the appointed time’ for weeks now, and yesterday I heard him tell mother to have the house-elves prepare the guest house for ‘mid-to-long term visitors’. He only does that when something major is planned.”

“But you don’t know exactly when?”

“I think it’s Halloween.” Draco said without much certainty, though he seemed to gain confidence as he spoke. “It has to be— the only thing that makes sense. Every conversation Dobby and I’ve overheard, every preparation I’ve witnessed; it all points to Halloween night. Father’s been ordered to pore over books pertaining to lunar calculations and something the Dark Lord calls ‘the convergence’. He keeps checking his astronomical charts and muttering about ‘when the veil is thinnest’.”

My heart started beating faster.

Halloween— just as I’d suspected. The date when the barriers between worlds were naturally weakened, when a ritual to open a portal to the Abyss would have the greatest chance of success.

“Where?” I pressed. “Do you know where this is supposed to happen?”

Draco’s expression grew frustrated. “That’s what I don’t know, and it’s driving me mad. They’re being incredibly secretive about the location. All I know is that it’s not going to be at the Manor— too exposed, too many Ministry protections in place. Somewhere else, somewhere significant.”

I found myself pacing across the observation deck, my mind racing. Halloween was only six weeks away. Six weeks to figure out where Grindelwald planned to conduct his ritual, six weeks to find a way to stop him. The urgency I’d been feeling for days suddenly crystallized into sharp, immediate fear.

“There’s something else.” Draco continued, his voice dropping even lower. “Something that worries me more than the artifacts or the foreign wizards.”

I stopped pacing and looked at him. “What?”

“My father’s been different lately. More confident, more… excited than I’ve ever seen him. He talks about the coming changes as if they’re inevitable, as if victory is already assured. But underneath that confidence, there’s something else. Something that frightens me.”

“What do you mean?”

Draco was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “He talks about sacrifice. About how great achievements require great costs, and how those costs are acceptable as long as the cause is served. He’s spoken about being willing to give up everything— the Manor, our fortune, even…” He trailed off, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

“Even what?”

“Even family, if necessary.” Draco finished quietly. “He said that to one of his fellows, when he thought no one could hear. I don’t know if what he said was real, or if he was just playing the part of the loyal follower the Dark Lord expects. Surely, he wouldn’t do that… Would he?”

The implications of that statement hit me like a physical blow. Lucius Malfoy was potentially preparing for something that might require him to sacrifice his own family. Either he expected the ritual to be incredibly dangerous, or he was planning something that would put him beyond the reach of normal consequences.

“I don’t know, Draco.” I said seriously. “But, if things get really bad— if you or your mother are in immediate danger— you remember what I told you about Kreacher, right?”

He nodded. “The safe house. I remember.”

“Don’t hesitate to use it. I mean it. Whatever loyalty you feel to your father, whatever hope you have of changing his mind, it’s not worth your life or your mother’s.”

“I know.” He said quietly. “And I’m grateful for the option, truly. But I can’t abandon him entirely, not yet. I want to know the truth of the matter.”

I wanted to argue with him, to insist that his safety was more important than intelligence gathering. But I also understood his position. Draco was caught between two impossible choices— betray his family completely or risk everything to try to prevent a catastrophe. Neither option was fair to ask of a thirteen-year-old boy.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful.” I said. “Don’t take unnecessary risks. If you suspect you’ve been discovered, get out immediately.”

“I promise.” He said, and I could see in his soul thread that he meant it.

Draco moved away from the parapet, beginning to pace in small, agitated circles as he gathered his thoughts. His shadow was long across the stone platform, and I could see the weight of what he was about to share pressing down on his shoulders.

“The changes started about three weeks ago.” He began, his voice taking on the careful, measured tone of someone who had been paying very close attention to details. “Before that, the meetings at the Manor were sporadic— maybe once or twice a week, usually just my father and a handful of the inner circle. Crabbe’s father, Goyle’s father, sometimes Nott or Parkinson. The usual suspects.”

He paused, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But then everything shifted. Suddenly there were messages arriving at all hours, messengers I’d never seen before. Father started spending entire days locked in his study, and when he emerged, he looked… different. More focused, more driven than I’d ever seen him.”

“Different how?” I prompted.

“You know how my father usually is— cold, calculating, always thinking three moves ahead. But this was something else entirely. There’s an urgency to him now, almost like a fever. He’s been blind to anything but this.”

Draco stopped pacing and turned to face me fully. “The first foreign wizard arrived five days later. A tall man with scars covering half his face, speaking what sounded like German. Father treated him with more deference than I’d ever seen him show anyone except the Dark Lord himself. They spent hours in the study together, pouring over charts and maps.”

“Maps of what?”

“I couldn’t get close enough to see clearly, but from what I glimpsed, they looked like magical surveys. The kind that shows places of power, maybe. There were dozens of locations marked with symbols I didn’t recognize.”

My pulse quickened. Ley lines— or rather, the ancient energy pathways that Cassius had shown us. If Grindelwald was surveying potential sites for his ritual, that would explain the maps. But dozens of locations? That suggested either multiple rituals or a very thorough selection process.

“After the German wizard came more.” Draco continued. “A Russian woman who everyone seemed afraid of. Two men who arrived together, covered from head to toe in runic sigils. Each of them brought things.”

“The artifacts you mentioned?”

Draco nodded grimly. “The woman carried a staff that made my teeth ache just looking at it. The two men had a chest between them that they refused to let anyone else touch— even the house-elves were ordered to stay away from it. And that was just the beginning.”

He resumed his pacing, his agitation growing as he recounted what he’d witnessed. “More visitors arrived every few days. Some stayed for hours, others for days at a time. The east wing of the Manor became off-limits to everyone except Father and his closest associates.”

“Dobby?”

Draco shook his head. “He couldn’t get in. He did tell me that the magic there felt ‘wrong and twisted’, whatever that means coming from a house-elf.”

I thought about Dobby’s sensitivity to magical auras. If the artifacts were powerful enough to make a house-elf uncomfortable, they were probably incredibly dangerous. The fact that they were being brought together in one location suggested that Grindelwald was assembling the components for his ritual well in advance.

“What about Voldemort himself?” I asked. “How many times has he been to the Manor?”

Draco’s expression grew even more troubled. “Three times in the past two weeks before I came back to Hogwarts. Four in the past two, according to Dobby. There was something different about these visits compared to the past, though.”

“Different how?”

“Usually, when the Dark Lord comes to the Manor, there’s fear. Tension. Everyone walks on eggshells, afraid of saying or doing something that might provoke his anger. But these recent visits felt more like… collaborations. Strategic planning sessions. Father would emerge from their meetings looking pleased, confident. Excited, even.”

That was disturbing news. If Voldemort and Lucius were working together as partners rather than in the usual master-servant dynamic, it suggested that whatever they were planning was significant enough to warrant that level of cooperation.

“During the second visit, Dobby managed to overhear part of their conversation.” Draco continued. “The Dark Lord seemed particularly interested in what he called ‘the anchor points’.”

“Anchor points?”

“I’m not sure what they meant by that, but from the context, it sounded like specific locations that were crucial to their plan. Father kept referring to his maps and talking about ‘securing the primary site’ and ‘contingency locations.’ It was as if they were planning something that required multiple coordinated efforts.”

My mind was racing, trying to piece together the implications. Multiple locations, anchor points, lunar alignments— it all sounded like the components of a massive ritual working. But why would opening a portal to the Abyss require such an elaborate setup?

“There’s more.” Draco said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “Two nights ago, Dobby heard my parents arguing. Really arguing, not just the usual disagreements about household management or social obligations. Dobby said that Mother was… she was afraid.”

He paused, clearly struggling with the memory. “Apparently, she was begging Father to reconsider, saying that what they were planning was too dangerous, that the risks were too great. She kept telling him to think of me and the family’s future.”

“What did your father say?”

“That’s what frightened me most of all. Dobby said that he told her that there wouldn’t be a future worth having if they didn’t act now. He said that the old world was ending whether they participated or not, and that their only choice was to be on the winning side when the new one began.”

The words sent a chill down my spine. Lucius was talking about the end of the world as they knew it, about fundamental changes to reality itself. That went beyond political upheaval or even magical war— it sounded like he expected Grindelwald’s ritual to literally reshape the nature of existence.

“When Mother pressed him about what he meant, he just said that she would understand when the time came.”

“And that’s when he mentioned being willing to sacrifice family if necessary?”

“The next morning, yes. I think he was trying to prepare her for the possibility that not all of us would survive what’s coming. Either the ritual itself is incredibly dangerous, or…” He trailed off, but I could see the fear in his eyes.

“Or what?”

“Or he’s planning to do something so terrible that he expects the consequences to destroy everything he’s ever cared about. Something he thinks is worth that cost.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of that possibility settling between us. The Sun had nearly set while we’d been talking, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. In the distance, I could see lights beginning to twinkle in the windows of Hogwarts as students settled in for the evening.

It all looked so normal, so peaceful. It was hard to believe that somewhere out there, powerful wizards were gathering artifacts and planning rituals that could potentially end the world as we knew it.

“There’s one more thing.” Draco said finally. “Yesterday, Father received a message that seemed to please him greatly. Dobby couldn’t see what it said, but after reading it, he immediately sent out a flurry of owls. Emergency meetings, accelerated plans.”

“Do you have any idea what the message contained?”

“Dobby said that Father muttered that all the pieces were falling into place.”

That was the most troubling news yet. If Voldemort’s and Grindelwald’s forces had secured their ritual site, it meant they were moving into the final stages of their plan. Halloween was still six weeks away, but apparently they needed that much time to complete their preparations.

“Draco.” I said seriously. “I need you to find out where. However you can, whatever risks you have to take— within reason— we need to know the location.”

He nodded grimly. “I know. I’ve been trying to get Dobby to be stealthier, but they’re being incredibly careful. The location is never mentioned in anyone’s presence who isn’t in the know, and all the maps are kept locked away when not in use.”

“Keep trying. And if you learn anything else— anything at all— get word to me immediately. Don’t wait for a safe opportunity; use Dobby if you have to.”

“I will.” He promised. “But Clarke…” He hesitated, then pushed forward.

“What are you going to do with this information? You can’t possibly be thinking of trying to stop them alone.”

I looked out over the darkening grounds, thinking about Harry, Cassius Black, and the ancient magic that flowed through the world like luminous rivers.

Six fucking weeks.

“Not alone.” I said finally. “But yes, we’re going to stop them. We have to.”

That seemed to steel the boy, who gave me a shaky nod. “I promise you, I’ll see if I can find out more.”

“All right.” I said finally. “But you remember what I said about the safe house. The moment you feel like you’re in danger— “

“I’ll contact Kreacher immediately.” He finished. “I give you my word.”

We stood there for a moment in the gathering dusk, both of us acutely aware of the weight of what we’d discussed.

“I should go.” Draco said reluctantly. “If I’m not back for dinner, the others will have questions, and I’ve got enough on my mind right now.”

I nodded. “Be careful, Draco. And thank you— for all of this. I know how much risk you’re taking.”

He gave me a wan smile. “Funny thing is, a year ago I would have told you to bugger off, Mudblood. Now I’m risking everything to help you. Life has a strange way of changing, doesn’t it?”

“It does, Pureblood.” I agreed, rolling my eyes. “But sometimes life changes for the better.”

“I hope so.” He said quietly. Then, with a final nod, he turned and made his way back toward the spiral staircase, leaving me alone on the observation deck.

I remained there for several minutes after he’d gone, staring out at the stars that were beginning to appear in the darkening sky. Halloween. The confirmation of my instincts should have felt like a victory, but instead it just made the urgency more acute. Six weeks to prevent what could be the end of the world as we knew it.

Fuck me. Things are never easy, are they?

Alef Ard buzzed in agreement, and I smiled. At least I wasn’t alone.