The whispers began the next morning.
They came not from students, but from Hogwarts itself — gentle rustlings of curtains where there was no breeze, a shimmer of light flickering down stone corridors, and subtle pulses of magic that followed Amaechi like shadows.
In the Great Hall, owls swooped overhead, but one paused, circling above Amaechi before dropping a jet-black feather beside her toast. She stared at it, heart thudding — it vibrated with energy, humming in tune with the pendant at her neck.
Across the table, Draco was watching.
"You look like you just saw a banshee," he said, picking at his eggs.
Amaechi nudged the feather toward him. "You tell me."
He picked it up, turned it in his fingers, then frowned. "This isn't from any owl I've ever seen. It's... cursed, maybe? Or enchanted?"
"It came to me," she said quietly.
Their eyes locked.
"Everything strange seems to come to you," he said, not unkindly.
Later that day, Professor Sprout's Herbology lesson passed without incident — unless one counted Ron nearly getting strangled by a Venomous Tentacula. But Amaechi's thoughts were elsewhere. That night, she returned to the lake.
It greeted her like a living being. A single ripple brushed the surface before a voice bloomed in her mind.
::You begin to hear.::
This time, the creature emerged farther, revealing iridescent scales and hair that moved like liquid moonlight. Its voice echoed with millennia, and Amaechi stepped deeper into the shallows, not caring that her robes grew wet.
"Who are you?"
::We are many. But you… you are one. The last spark of a line nearly extinguished. Your soul remembers the ocean cradle, the cradle of power.::
"I don't understand."
::You will. In time. But danger coils close. Eyes turn where they should not. Even those who smile with silver tongues.::
"Who?" Amaechi asked sharply.
But the creature was already gone.
Meanwhile, inside the castle, tension brewed.
Whispers had spread that Potter was Hogwarts' youngest Seeker in a century — and while most celebrated the news, some didn't. Draco's smug confidence had been wounded.
In the common room that evening, Amaechi found him hunched by the fire, tossing Bertie Bott's Beans into the flames.
"Lost in thought?" she asked.
He glanced up, eyes sharp. "I'm just wondering how much fame Potter needs before he bursts into sparkles."
She smirked. "Jealousy doesn't suit you."
"It's not jealousy," he muttered, then added, "It's... expectation. My father expects me to be better. The best."
Amaechi sat beside him. "Maybe being the best isn't about broomsticks and house points."
He gave her a look. "Then what is it?"
She paused. "Not being afraid to find out who you really are."
For a moment, Draco didn't respond. Then he leaned closer. "You're different. You don't act like you're trying to fit in."
"That's because I'm not," she said simply.
Their fingers brushed briefly, like a spark.
That night, Amaechi dreamt.
A dark ocean rolled beneath a sky of stars. Voices called to her, half-sung, half-whispered. And in the center of it all, the creature floated, surrounded by orbs of light. Each orb held a memory — her own, or another's, she wasn't sure. One showed her family… another, the Forbidden Forest cloaked in fire… and one, a symbol — an ancient crest carved in stone.
She awoke breathless, the lake still humming in her veins.
And in the shadows outside the Slytherin dorm, something watched.