The Astronomy Tower was quiet, bathed in moonlight and the soft murmurs of second-year students aligning their brass telescopes. Stars shimmered above like ancient runes scrawled across the night sky.
Caelum adjusted the settings on his telescope, but his concentration was short-lived.
"Stomachache from trying your own brewed potion?" Evran said flatly, leaning on the parapet beside him. "Really, Caelum?"
Bastian, sitting cross-legged nearby with a quill in his mouth, nodded. "We saw the attendance note, you know. That's not even your worst excuse. But it's up there."
Caelum sighed. "I figured you wouldn't believe it."
Evran gave him a sidelong glance. "Are we wrong to think there's something more going on?"
"…Last night, I was with Professor Dumbledore," Caelum admitted. "He brought me to a sealed chamber beneath the castle. It stores something connected to my bloodline. I tried to access it, and… I was pulled into another dimension. It turned out to be some kind of portal to a battleground trial. I only got back this morning."
Bastian's brows rose. "So it was about your bloodline."
Caelum nodded.
Evran let out a low breath. "Sounds dangerous."
"Well," Bastian said carefully, his tone light but sincere, "glad nothing worse happened. I mean, you're here and not in a bed at St. Mungo's, so that's already a win, right?"
Caelum gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks. I'll tell you both the whole story—just… not tonight."
Neither Evran nor Bastian pressed further, which he appreciated more than he could say.
…
As it turns out, the trial had lasted the entire night. While Caelum fought in the scorched sands of that hidden dimension, Dumbledore had remained near the monolith in the sealed chamber for quite a while. He then left Fawkes to guard the site—more than just a sentinel, the phoenix was there in case Caelum returned gravely injured.
When Caelum finally reappeared, wrapped in ash and quiet flame, Dumbledore had simply greeted him with a nod and told him to rest. He had spent the rest of the day in the infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's care—not just to recover, but to contemplate what he had gained and just return for the Astronomy class.
Because something had changed.
Transferred back to the physical world, Caelum had felt it immediately—an unfamiliar clarity, a resonance deep within his magic. Buried in his mind was knowledge not learned, but inherited: a single, elegant spell.
Igniscor Varnak – Varnak's Flameheart.
A spell that allowed him to channel his ancestral fire, Luxardent, directly into his magical core. When cast, it would amplify everything—his speed, reflexes, spellcasting ability, and fire magic's potency—at the cost of stamina and immense strain.
But it wasn't theoretical.
He had seen it before.
When Aurelian Varnak possessed his body during the battle against Lucian, he had wielded this same spell. The radiant wings of flame that burst from Caelum's back in that moment—it was Igniscor Varnak in its true peak mastery form. A memory carved into flesh, proven by the scar that still crossed his shoulder blades, raw and permanent.
Caelum wasn't ready for that final form. Not yet. By his own estimate, sixty seconds was all he could currently sustain before his body would begin to collapse under the spell's force.
But he would master it.
With time, with training—he would.
And when he did… the wings would return. Not as a borrowed legacy, but as a power fully his own.
…
"And you should also explain your whereabouts to Vesper," Bastian muttered, eyeing the far end of the observation deck. "She's been staring at us the whole night, and I swear I can feel it drilling into the back of my head."
Caelum turned to look.
There she was, leaning against the balustrade, her posture casual—but her gaze anything but.
Vesper Blackbourne was watching him.
She offered a small smile when their eyes met. But it wasn't her usual smile—the quiet, amused one she wore when she was about to say something clever, or the rare warm one that slipped through when she was truly pleased.
No, this one was… different.
It was the smile of someone who had waited, very patiently, and was now about to demand an explanation.
Caelum felt a tight knot form in his stomach.
In that moment, Caelum would've rather faced another dozen shadow creatures.
….
The Great Hall buzzed with lunchtime chatter, goblets clinking and owls swooping overhead with delayed breakfast deliveries. At the Slytherin table, Evran slumped over his plate dramatically.
"That," he said to no one in particular, "was exhausting."
Bastian, chewing on a roast potato, gave a tired grunt. "Yes. And why exactly did we have to sit 'properly' in front of Vesper Blackbourne all morning like we were on trial?"
Caelum only grinned guiltily, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "Because we're friends?"
"Right," Bastian muttered, rubbing his temple. "Friends."
The memory played clearly in all their minds—three boys lined up neatly in the Slytherin common room, across from Vesper, who sat perched on the couch with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed in quiet judgement. She hadn't even raised her voice. She didn't need to.
That encounter ended with a pointed demand: "You're taking me to Hogsmeade this weekend. I have something to retrieve."
The problem was obvious. Only third-years and above were allowed off school grounds on weekends. And they weren't third-years. Not yet.
Still, Caelum knew exactly who to ask. Or more accurately, which two people.