The Hogwarts Express, usually a vessel of cheerful, end-of-summer chatter, was subdued on its journey north. The memory of the Dark Mark hanging in the sky and the chaotic aftermath of the World Cup had cast a long, fearful shadow over the students. Whispers of the Death Eater attack and the mysterious casting of Voldemort's symbol were the dominant topic of conversation in every carriage.
In the compartment occupied by Ariana and her friends, however, the atmosphere was different. It was not one of fear, but of focused, quiet intensity. Harry and Ron were recounting the night's events for the tenth time, still buzzing with a mixture of terror and adrenaline. But Ariana, having processed the immediate threat, had already moved on to the year's more significant projects.
She waited until Harry and Ron were engrossed in a game of exploding snap before she turned to Hermione and Daphne, creating a subtle bubble of privacy.
"The events at the World Cup were an unfortunate but predictable escalation," she began, her voice low and even. "The political climate is destabilizing. It is more important than ever that we focus on our own research. The work we are doing is, in the long term, far more significant than the random acts of disorganized terrorists."
Hermione and Daphne leaned in, their expressions serious. They knew she was not talking about their schoolwork.
"The Maledictus project had a solid theoretical foundation," Ariana continued. "But I have decided to open a second, parallel line of research this year."
She reached into a specially shielded pocket of her robes and produced a small, magically sealed glass vial. Inside was a single drop of dark, crimson blood that seemed to hum with a faint, wild energy.
"What is that?" Daphne whispered, her eyes wide.
"It is a blood sample from Professor Lupin," Ariana explained calmly. "I asked him for it before we left Grimmauld Place. I told him it was for my ongoing research into magical blood anomalies. He was happy to oblige."
Hermione's eyes lit up with dawning comprehension. "Lycanthropy," she breathed.
"Precisely," Ariana affirmed. "It is treated by the wizarding world as a curse, a form of dark magic. But that is a simplistic and unhelpful classification. It is not a curse in the same way the Maledictus affliction is. One is hereditary, a flaw in the magical DNA. The other is transmitted through an attack, like a disease. It is, I believe, a magical virus."
She held up the vial. "Like the Maledictus curse, this 'virus' hijacks the host's magical core, specifically their innate capacity for self-transfiguration. The lunar cycle acts as a biological trigger, activating the dormant viral code and forcing the transformation. The pain and the loss of self are not inherent to the transformation itself, but are symptoms of the host's own mind and magic fighting a losing battle against the viral takeover."
She was discussing one of the most feared and misunderstood conditions in the magical world with the cool, detached language of a Muggle virologist.
"So, you think it can be cured?" Daphne asked, her mind clearly connecting this to the hope Ariana had given her for Astoria.
"'Cure' is a strong word," Ariana cautioned. "The virus, once bonded with a magical core, is likely impossible to completely eradicate. But suppression… that is a different matter. If we can understand the mechanism by which it hijacks the host's magic, we might be able to develop a potion—an antiviral, in essence—that could inhibit the process. Something more permanent and effective than the Wolfsbane Potion, which only allows the user to retain their mind but does not stop the agonizing transformation itself."
She looked at her two friends, her gaze intense. "Our work on the Maledictus curse is about repairing a faulty foundation. This is about fighting an active, intelligent invader. It will require a completely different approach. I will need your help. Hermione, I need you to research all known magical viruses and transformative pathogens. Daphne, I need you to look into ancient family accounts of attempts to manage or mitigate Lycanthropy, beyond the standard Ministry regulations. The pure-blood families often had their own, secret methods."
It was another monumental task, a challenge that would have seemed impossible to anyone else. But to the three girls in the compartment, it was just the next logical step in their shared work.
There was, however, one project she did not share.
Later that evening, after Hermione and Daphne had gone to the trolley for snacks, Ariana sat alone in the dimming light of the carriage. She quietly reached into another, even more carefully shielded pocket and her fingers brushed against the cold, heavy gold of Slytherin's locket.
The Horcrux project was hers and hers alone.
It was a burden too dangerous, too dark, to share, even with her closest friends. The knowledge of Voldemort's split soul was a secret Albus Dumbledore himself had guarded for years. To involve Hermione would be to place her in direct, existential danger and saddle her with a terrible, consuming fear. To involve Daphne would be to draw her and her family into the very center of the war against the Dark Lord, a risk Ariana was unwilling to take for them.
Her research into the locket was a solitary, silent endeavor. She would study its properties, analyze the soul-fragment within, and learn the mechanics of its dark, parasitic magic. She would treat it as she had the Maledictus curse—as a problem to be understood, contained, and ultimately, solved. She would find a way to perform the same kind of extraction, to cleanse the object without destroying the priceless historical artifact.
It was a lonely, perilous path, but it was one she knew she had to walk alone. Her friends were her allies, her strength, her support system. But some burdens, she understood, were only meant for one person to carry.
As the train rattled on towards the familiar, welcoming lights of Hogwarts, Ariana sat with her secrets. The curable curse, the manageable virus, and the shattered soul of a dark lord. The school year hadn't even officially begun, but her true work was already well underway.