Adrien.

The whispers hit us before breakfast.

Katie Bell. Hospital Wing. Cursed necklace.

I was mid-stretch, one arm overhead and one boot halfway on, when Hermione skidded to a stop beside me in the corridor outside the Great Hall. Her eyes were sharp behind sleep-mussed curls.

"What did you just say?" she demanded.

The two Hufflepuff girls ahead of us flinched. One of them—tall, jumpy, the kind who probably apologized to books when she dropped them—looked up nervously. "Katie Bell. She touched something cursed. A necklace. Collapsed right near the gates."

The second girl nodded, pale as parchment. "They said she was screaming. Blood. Air. And then she just dropped."

My stomach twisted, hard and sudden. Katie Bell.

Not our Katie—obviously.

But still. Too close. Too real.

My arms crossed automatically, palms ghosting over the burns that still hadn't fully healed.

Hermione turned to me. "Do you think—?"

"Yes." I didn't need more. "Let's go."

By the time we made it to our usual spot at the Gryffindor table, the mood had already shifted. Our Katie sat rigid as stone. Her toast untouched. Rowan had one arm slung over the back of her chair, his other hand wrapped around a tea mug like it might crack under the pressure. His jaw looked like it had been carved out of marble.

Maddie was the first to speak, which was rare—mostly because she didn't even look up from buttering her roll.

"Tell me this Katie Bell incident didn't happen in Hogsmeade over the weekend?"

I glanced around the group.

Sage's nod was short, tight.

Katie's eyes hadn't moved from the table.

I slipped into the seat beside her and said, "Draco and Blasie acting sketchy in Hogsmeade...?"

Katie finally spoke. Her voice was flat. "And now Katie Bell is in the Hospital Wing."

It wasn't even a question.

Sage exhaled slowly, like she was trying not to breathe fire. "You think he gave it to her? That she was the delivery mule?"

"Wouldn't be the first time someone was used without knowing," Maddie muttered. "Especially not if Malfoy's involved. He practically screams 'I have a secret and it's morally compromising.'"

I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching in my lap. "I don't like how close this is getting."

Katie's lips pressed into a line. "They're not being subtle anymore. This isn't just hallway drama and snide comments. This is injuries. Curses. Screaming."

"She's Fred's ex," I said quietly. "That can't be lost on them."

Rowan looked up sharply at that. "Wait—do you think they knew that?"

Maddie raised a brow. "Blaise knew. He's Blaise. He keeps a mental dossier on everyone who's ever made eye contact with Adrien."

I didn't even argue. She wasn't wrong.

Katie stood up abruptly and dropped her hands to the table. "I need to go to the infirmary."

"Katie—" Rowan grabbed her wrist.

"I just want to see her. To make sure she's okay. Is that such a crime?"

"No," I said, standing too. "It's not. We'll go with you."

But even as I spoke the words, something cold was slipping into my spine. The kind of cold that came from realization.

They'd used someone. For something. And they'd done it on school grounds.

But who was their target? Katie? Me? Someone else?

Sage pushed her plate away and crossed her arms. "If they're this bold already, what the hell are they planning next?"

"Something worse," I said. And I knew it. I felt it.

None of us had eaten by the time we left the table. And none of us were pretending this was just another Hogwarts day anymore.

Because it wasn't.

And we'd just crossed into something bigger.

Madam Pomfrey barely looked up when we slipped through the doors, though her eyes narrowed just slightly when she saw how many of us had shown up. "Keep your voices down," she said curtly. "And don't touch anything. She's still recovering."

The curtains around the far bed were drawn halfway closed, but I could see the pale outline of Katie Bell through them—propped up against her pillows, a faint sheen of sweat across her skin. Her hair was damp. Her eyes flicked toward us as we approached.

She smiled. It looked like it hurt.

"Is this the entire Gryffindor Quidditch roster or just the ones with anger issues?"

"Both," Katie (our Katie) said quietly, stepping up to the side of the bed.

Bell tried to sit up straighter. "Ugh," she flinched as I reached over to guide her shoulder, she just smiled sweetly to me—while I shot her a half-hearted one.

The last time I saw her, she was talking to Fred in the shop—driving me crazy, not nothing but guilt hung over me as I helped her adjust her pillows.

"What..." I sighed, glancing around as Rowan finished my thought.

"What happened?"

"I don't remember much." Bell sighed, wrinkling her brow. " Just... holding it. That necklace. And then—pain. Like someone shoved ice straight into my veins and tried to carve out my lungs."

Rowan grimaced beside me. Maddie sat down on the edge of the next bed, fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket.

"Do you remember who gave it to you?" Sage asked gently.

Bell shook her head, brow furrowed. "Someone... gave it to me in Hogsmeade. Told me to bring it to the castle—to the upper table in the Great Hall. I don't even know who."

Katie (our Katie) pressed her lips together. "You were a delivery girl."

"That's what the professors said," Bell replied, voice tinged with bitterness. "They think I was cursed through it. Someone used me to try and deliver a Dark object past the gates."

I swallowed. "A necklace?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "Silver. Cold as hell. I didn't even think—I didn't know."

We stood there in silence for a second too long.

Then Rowan stepped forward. "If you remember anything else... anything at all. Let one of us know, please?."

She nodded weakly. "Thanks, guys. Really."

Katie reached down, squeezing her hand once before letting go. "Hang in there. We've got your back."

And in that moment, I could see it on all of our faces—this wasn't just their game anymore.

Whatever Malfoy and Blaise were planning? They'd just made it personal. And they were going to regret it.

"A staff member..." I muttered as the Hospital Wing doors shut behind us.

"What?" Maddie blinked.

"They—whoever, pretty sure we know who—" I paused, as they all turned to face me now. "Wanted her to deliver it to the Staff table..."

"Dumbledore?" Katie frowned, lowering her gaze. "Shit."

"Mr. Weasley—now!" Rowan almost ordered as the five of us moved.

It was after Midnight we managed to sneak past some Prefects to send out the letter to Mr. Weasley, the walk back from the Owlery was quiet.

Too quiet.

Maddie and I didn't fill the space like we normally did—not with jokes or half-sung tunes or observations about how the moon looked like it was judging us.

I think we both felt the weight of what we'd witnessed, heard and discovered.

The cursed necklace.

Draco.

Blaise.

The Cabinet.

And now... Katie Bell in the Hospital Wing.

It wasn't paranoia anymore. It was a countdown.

"She looked so pale," Maddie muttered beside me, hugging her coat tighter around her. "Like her magic was trying to climb out of her skin."

"Yeah," I said softly, eyes on the flickering torches lining the corridor. "Like it didn't belong in her anymore."

We rounded the corner and nearly collided with Sage—who skidded to a stop, chest heaving, hair wild, eyes wide.

"Sage?" I blinked. "Did someone hex you or—"

"It's Katie," she gasped. "Our Katie."

Maddie straightened immediately. "What happened?"

"She's thrashing in her bed. Like full-on dueling with shadows," Sage said, yanking at her ponytail like it was the only way to stay grounded. "I tried shaking her, calling her name, splashing water—nothing. She won't wake up."

My stomach dropped.

"She's sweating like mad and muttering something about—about the Ministry and 'don't look, don't look,'" Sage added, her voice catching.

I didn't wait.

I took off running.

"Adrien—!" Maddie shouted behind me, but my legs were already carrying me through the portrait hole and up the stairs like fire was licking at my heels.

The dorm door was half open.

Inside, Katie was tangled in her sheets, brow slick with sweat, mouth twisting in pained murmurs that didn't quite form full sentences.

"No—stop—don't make me look—Adrien—stop them—please—don't make me—"

I crossed the room in three strides and dropped to the side of her bedside. "Katie," I said, sharp but gentle. "Katie, it's me. It's Adrien. Wake up."

Her body jerked.

I grabbed her hand.

"I said wake up."

She sat bolt upright with a choking gasp like she'd just surfaced from underwater, hands scrambling for purchase. Her eyes darted everywhere. Wild. Untethered.

I gripped her shoulders. "Hey. Hey. You're safe."

Her breath came in short, ragged bursts.

Maddie and Sage rushed in behind me, staying quiet, keeping distance.

Katie blinked. Blinked again.

Then finally—focused.

On me.

She let out a shaking breath. "I couldn't stop it. I couldn't move. It was like I was back there, but worse. Like I was watching it all happen again."

"The Ministry?" I asked softly.

She nodded once.

Tears spilled over before she could stop them.

"I couldn't stop you. It was like everything kept breaking and I had to choose who lived."

My throat tightened. I climbed onto the bed—fully—beside her, pulled her into my arms, and didn't let go. "You don't have to choose. We're all here. We're all breathing."

Sage knelt beside us, her hand finding Katie's foot under the blanket. "We got you, you moody psycho."

Maddie exhaled like she'd been holding her breath too. "Next time your trauma schedule kicks in, give us a heads up. We'll plan snacks."

That got a weak laugh from Katie. I held her tighter anyway.

Because the truth was—we were all breaking in our own way.

But not tonight. Not if I could help it.

After weeks of dark glances, snarky comments and absolute rage simmering—the time had come.

Gryffindor vs Slytherin—Quiddich.

I wasn't nervous.

I was furious.

Draco and Blaise were already in the air, cutting circles over the pitch like smug vultures. The wind whipped across the stands, sharp and relentless. It felt like the entire sky was waiting to snap.

Good.

So was I.

Katie tossed her bat into the air and caught it with a satisfying crack against her palm. "Ready to knock some elitist skulls into next century?"

"Try and keep up," I muttered, eyes locked on the green and silver blurs overhead. The Quaffle in my hands hummed with familiar weight. "I want Blaise's pride as a souvenir."

Rowan's eyes were locked on the Slytherin hoops. Cold. Calculated. "If either of them touches you, I'll break my record for fouls in under five minutes."

"Please," Sage shouted from the stands, waving a crimson banner twice her size. "Bench them with your face. Make it sexy!"

Maddie cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. "And dramatic! Bonus points if there's glitter!"

Katie swung her bat toward them like a salute. "Glitter's for winners. I'm here for the bruises."

My magic pulsed beneath my skin — hot, unsettled. I curled my fingers tighter around the Quaffle and tried to breathe, but the heat didn't go away.

If anything, it crawled higher.

Madam Hooch's whistle blew.

The air shattered. We launched.

Draco came at me fast — wand hand twitching even though he knew better. Blaise angled his broom to block me, veering far too close for legal play. His eyes met mine for half a second. Just enough to sneer, "Ready to fall again, sweetheart?"

I didn't answer. I scorched past him — wind and rage behind me — and hurled the Quaffle through the goal ring so fast the Keeper didn't even move.

10–0.

Katie cackled like a demon and sent a Bludger spiraling straight at Blaise's shin.

"Oops," she sang. "My bat slipped."

Rowan caught a pass from Ginny, turned midair, and launched it like a bullet back across the pitch. "We're just warming up, Slytherin!"

"Is anyone else seeing sparks?" Maddie yelled from the stands. "Because Adrien's actually glowing and I'm both concerned and aroused!"

"She's radiating vengeance," Sage said proudly. "And I love that for us!"

I could feel it now — that pull beneath my ribs. The crackle of magic that didn't need a wand or words.

Just rage.

Blaise tried to cut me off on the next dive. Draco joined him, flanking me.

"Cute," I spat. "You're only brave when there's two of you."

"Let's see how long the Weasley curse holds," Blaise hissed.

My magic snapped.

A ripple of heat burst from my fingertips — not a spell, just raw fury. His broom shuddered as it passed through the wave. He jerked midair, fighting for control, eyes wide.

"You—" he started.

"Stay the hell out of my sky," I snarled.

Katie slammed a Bludger between Draco and Blaise without blinking. "Wrong day to try me, boys."

Rowan looped past us and shouted, "Don't forget to smile for the Prophet!"

We scored again.

20–0.

The crowd was screaming.

Glitter rained from above. Maddie had hexed a banner that now read:

BLAISE WHO? NEVER HEARD OF HER.

Sage shouted, "Release the chaos!" and someone actually set off a musical charm that blasted Gwenog Jones' greatest hits.

Katie brushed past me mid-play, wild-eyed and grinning. "Having fun?"

"I haven't not wanted to murder someone this badly in months."

"Good," she said. "Hold that thought."

Madam Hooch blew the final whistle after a brutal sixty minutes.

Rowan blocked the last Slytherin shot with a backward one-handed catch, threw the Quaffle skyward like a mic drop, and landed in front of the stands with the kind of smug wink that had every Gryffindor on their feet.

We won.

Gryffindor 190 – Slytherin 40.

Katie jogged up beside me, sweat-slick and beaming. "That was illegal and perfect."

"I almost exploded," I admitted.

"You glowed," she said. "Literal sparks. Like a battle angel with hair mousse."

Lavender Brown was already racing over with a Quick-Quotes Quill.

"How did it feel out there today?" she asked breathlessly.

I smirked, wiping blood from my knuckle. "We play better under pressure."

Katie leaned in. "And by pressure, she means Blaise's stupid face."

Rowan joined us a moment later, broom over his shoulder. "You alright?"

I nodded, the burn in my chest finally softening.

"For one day," I said. "We were unstoppable."

Sage and Maddie stormed the field like glitter-streaked warriors.

"For one night," Maddie shouted, "Slytherin knew fear."

We didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

But tonight—tonight, we made them bleed.

Or so we thought.

Because the moment the words left her mouth, the Slytherin team started crossing the pitch—shoulder to shoulder, smugness curdling into something nastier. Draco led the way, sneer already locked in place. Blaise followed a step behind, eyes locked on me like he hadn't just lost in front of half the school.

"Don't gloat too hard," Draco said coolly, slowing as they passed. "It's only Quidditch."

Rowan arched a brow. "Funny, coming from someone who just got his broom handed to him."

Katie slung her bat over her shoulder and smiled wide. "You almost made it look competitive, Malfoy. Almost."

Draco's nostrils flared. Blaise didn't even blink.

He stopped in front of me, gaze dipping just long enough to take in the bruise blooming across my forearm where I'd caught his elbow mid-match.

"Still glowing," he murmured. "I wonder how long that lasts."

My magic flared. Unbidden. Hot. A faint ripple of pressure crackled over the grass beneath our feet.

"I can make it last," I said sweetly. "Just keep standing there."

Sage stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with me, eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing your face after what happened in Hogsmeade."

"And even more letting it speak," Maddie added, wand already in hand. "Want to find out how fast I can charm your eyebrows off?"

Rowan stepped in front of us then, calm but cold. "Keep walking."

"Or what?" Draco scoffed. "You'll throw another Quaffle at my head?"

Rowan's smile didn't reach his eyes. "No. I'll break your wand and charm your hair to scream every time you lie. Which, statistically, would be... always."

Blaise's eyes flicked to me again. "He's cute when he's territorial."

My fists clenched before I even realized it. The static in the air pulsed—louder now. Visible.

Rowan's voice dropped. "Try it."

Blaise opened his mouth.

But whatever he was about to say died on his tongue when Katie casually tapped the end of her bat against her palm—twice—and tilted her head.

"Do it," she said softly. "I dare you."

Draco scowled, yanked Blaise's arm, and stalked off without another word.

We didn't move until they were halfway to the changing room.

Then Sage let out a sharp breath. "God, I hate them."

"I hate that they're planning something," I muttered.

Maddie glanced at my arm. "You lit the grass on fire."

I looked down. Sure enough, a perfect scorched circle ringed my boots.

Katie raised a brow. "So. We calling that a win?"

Rowan reached for my hand, giving it a small squeeze before taking Katie's and intertwining their fingers before pressing his lips to her knuckles. "You scared him."

"Good," I said. "Let's keep it that way."

And together, we turned back toward the stands—flushed, sweating, scorched...

But victorious. For now.

The music from the common room was still thumping through the floorboards when I slipped out the portrait hole.

Laughter. Glitter. Triumph.

It all felt like it belonged to someone else tonight.

I wrapped my cardigan tighter, pulling the sleeves down over the bandages. The burn had stopped throbbing days ago—but the runes hadn't. And the newest one, just above my elbow, still glowed faintly through the gauze like a cursed ember waiting to ignite.

I thought the library would be empty this late. Most students were still celebrating our win. Gryffindor had practically set the common room on fire with the amount of sugar, volume, and victory chanting going around. But I needed answers more than I needed glitter and Butterbeer.

The stack of books in front of me looked like something out of a Dark Arts tribunal:

Arcane Inheritance and Magical Decay.

Runic Scarring in Bloodline Mages.

Obscurial Traits and Wandless Manifestations.

I'd stolen them from the Restricted Section. Again.

My head was pounding. My arm burned under the glamoured sleeve. I'd layered makeup charms so thick this morning, before the game—they could see.

They being Katie, Sage, Maddie and Rowan.

Especially Blaise and Draco.

I was surprised the fabric hadn't peeled off.

I didn't even hear the door open.

"Are you fucking serious?"

I flinched at the voice. But not at the volume. I knew that tone.

Sage.

I didn't even look up. "Not now."

She stormed around the table, eyes wild, hair pulled up like she was about to go into battle. "You're here. Alone. With those books."

"Sage—"

"You lied, Adrien."

I stood, slowly. "I didn't lie—"

"You let me—us—think you were fine. You let everyone think you were fine while you researched blood curses like a dying professor with a death wish and sneaking off alone while Blaise-freaking-Zabini is slinking around like some cursed ex-boyfriend horror trope!"

The crack in her voice stung worse than the one in my ribs.

"I didn't let you think anything," I said through clenched teeth. "You wanted normal so I gave you normal."

She pointed at my arm, voice trembling now. "What's that then, Adrien? A fashion statement? Because that—" her finger jabbed toward my sleeve, "—is not just fabric and flair. That's a charm. A layered one."

I stiffened.

Her eyes narrowed. "You've been glamouring yourself."

"Sage—"

She stepped closer. "That's why you've been 'fine.' Why your eyes don't match your voice. Why your smile hasn't reached your face in months."

"Drop it."

"No," she said softly. "You drop this."

Her wand slid from her sleeve—not threatening, but careful. She raised it with the kind of gentleness that made it worse.

"Sage—don't—"

"Finite Incantatem."

The charm peeled away like smoke. And underneath?

I watched her expression shatter.

Because there I was—bare-faced, pallid, sunken-eyed. My skin looked gray under the dim library light. My lips were cracked. The hollow under my cheekbones was deeper than I realized.

And the marks...

The faint shimmer of old runes still lined my collarbone, curling toward my shoulder like ghost vines. Faded, but not gone. Like bruises from another world.

Sage didn't speak for a long moment.

Then, softly—brokenly:

"Adrien... what the hell?"

I crossed my arms, weakly. "Now you see it."

She dropped her wand.

Actually dropped it.

"You've been like this—this whole time?" she choked out. "You let us think you were fine while you were literally deteriorating?"

"I didn't want—"

"You didn't want?" she exploded. "You've been lying with your whole damn face! You're bleeding magic and throwing up illusions like that's supposed to make us feel better?!"

I turned away, shoulders shaking. "You don't understand."

"Then make me!" she snapped. "Because right now, I don't know if I should scream, cry, or throw something at your stupid, beautiful, flickering head!"

I whipped back toward her, throat raw. "You're not the one waking up marked like a cursed artifact!"

Silence.

Her mouth opened. Then closed.

I yanked my sleeve up.

And I let her see the new one.

Her breath hitched.

The rune glowed faintly—painfully—in the shape of something sharp, ancient, and unfinished. It looked carved into my skin with something older than language.

Sage stepped forward, but I was already swaying.

I didn't even feel the floor when it hit.

Just her arms catching me.

Her voice—panicked now, cracking like something brittle:

"No. No, no, no. Adrien—stay with me—Adrien—please—"

Then black.

Somewhere between breath and blackout, I felt it—Arms.

Not just catching me.

Dragging. Lifting. Hauling me out of the dark.

There was a voice, too.

Frantic. Familiar.

"Sage," I mumbled—maybe. Maybe just in my head.

"Come on, Blackwood, don't you dare fade—"

The scent of night-blooming wolfsbane hit my nose, then something sharper—ink and worn leather.

Another voice joined hers—deep, calm, strangely grounding.

"Let me help—steady. You've got her?"

"Yeah," Sage snapped. "But if she dies I'm blaming you for letting her research herself into oblivion."

"She's not dying," the second voice said flatly. "She's breathing. Barely."

Cassian.

I tried to speak. To open my eyes. Nothing.

The cold air bit at my skin as they moved—through the corridor? A courtyard? Everything bled together in streaks of torchlight and motion.

Then...

"Adrien—goddammit stay with me, come on—"

I wanted to answer. Wanted to make some smartass comment.

But I slipped again—This time deeper.

The ceiling looked the same.Which would've been comforting—if it wasn't the Hospital Wing ceiling.

Again.

I groaned softly and blinked.

My throat hurt.

My arm felt like someone had poured fire down it, and my head was full of fog and static.

"I swear to Merlin, if she tries to play dead again, I'm throwing a Bludger at her."

That was Katie.

"I'd pay to see that," Rowan added.

"She is alive, right?" Maddie asked. "I mean, unless we're in one of those magical post-death visitations, in which case, I demand more dramatic lighting."

I groaned again. "If this is the afterlife, someone forgot to make me hot and rich."

"She's awake!" Sage practically tackled the bed as she leaned over me, eyes glassy with relief. Her sweater was backward again. "You monumental dumbass. Don't you ever do that again."

Cassian's voice floated from behind her, casual and cool. "She made it four days before waking. That's technically impressive."

"Wait—four days?" My voice cracked like old parchment.

Katie hovered beside me, arms crossed, looking murderously relieved. "Yep. You've been unconscious for nearly a week. Magical depletion. Emotional sabotage. Rune secrets. Oh, and let's not forget the reckless solo research and face planting in the library."

"I wasn't alone," I croaked.

Maddie grinned. "You were with Sage, yes. Unconscious, but with her. And guess who helped haul your pale, magical-glitching body here like a knight in sarcastic armor?"

She turned dramatically and gestured to Cassian, who didn't even blink.

"She means me," he said dryly. "I helped carry you. And I didn't drop you once, despite Sage calling you 'runey-tunes' the whole way."

Sage flushed. "It was terrifying, okay?"

Cassian nodded once. "And while we're sharing, I'm more than a pretty face and a sarcastic disposition. I've studied cursed languages. Ritual marks. Magical transference. The kind of stuff most people get expelled for researching, I saw your arms and it looks familiar...."

I blinked. "You're offering to help?"

"I'm offering to help if you let all of us in this time," he said firmly. "You mean alot to this crew—obviously—and you're obviously in need of some help and direction...so no solo missions. No passing out under enchanted skylights. We figure this out—together."

"Are you sure you're not doing this Maddie?" I attempted to joke, but flinched as my arm throbbed again.

The air shifted as silence settled around the bed.

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and nodded.

Katie stepped forward, lips pressed tight. "Adrien..."

"I know," I whispered.

"No, you don't. You don't get to scare us half to death and then look at us like we're the ones being unreasonable for worrying."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not allowed to just be sorry," Katie snapped, voice tight. "You're allowed to be honest. And tired. And vulnerable. But you have to let us see it. You're not alone anymore."

Before I could say anything—

BAM!

The Hospital Wing doors slammed open with all the subtlety of an explosion.

Fred Weasley stormed through like a thunderstorm in motion, George on his heels. Behind them: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, with Dumbledore trailing behind like the world's calmest meteor.

"Oh shit," Maddie whispered, wide-eyed.

Sage shot upright like she'd been hit with a jolt of electricity. "I thought they weren't supposed to know she was awake yet!"

Fred didn't say a word.

He didn't have to.

He crossed the room in seconds, cupped my face in his hands, and stared like he was trying to memorize every inch of me.

And then—he pulled me into him like he'd finally found the missing piece of his soul.

I didn't cry.

But I could've.

Because for the first time since the runes started burning, since the howler, since the fall—

I didn't feel like I was drowning. I felt found.

The light was too soft.

Too clean.

It scraped against my skull like sunlight through fog, and when I blinked past the ache in my head, all I saw were shadows over white—curtains, bandages, sheets, ceiling.

I was alive.

Unfortunately.

"Adrien?"

Fred's voice cracked like it hadn't been used in hours. Or maybe days.

My vision finally focused. He was at the foot of the bed, pale and wide-eyed and visibly trying not to shatter.

Sage shot up beside me from a chair. "She's awake."

Katie was at my left in a second, shoving back a curtain with enough force to nearly tear it. "You idiot. You makeup-charmed yourself like we wouldn't notice?!"

Maddie exhaled in relief so hard she sagged onto the bed. "Oh thank God, we didn't even get to test the resurrection spell we found."

Cassian, quiet and unreadable behind her, gave a tight nod. "She's stable. For now."

I groaned. My throat felt like sandpaper. "How... long?"

Katie leaned in, eyes fierce and exhausted. "Four days."

I blinked. "Four—days?"

"Four. Bloody. Days," she snapped. "And in that time, we learned so much—like how magical depletion feels when you watch someone collapse face-first into a library desk and stop breathing."

Sage's nostrils flared. "You don't get to do that again. Researching cursed blood magic alone? With Blaise lurking like a pervy gargoyle?"

"You were drained, Adrien," Maddie added. "Like the literal life sucked out of you. If Cassian hadn't helped Sage carry you—"

"Wait—what?" I blinked at her. "You helped?"

Cassian lifted a brow. "You're welcome. Don't make a habit of it."

"She owes you snacks," Maddie muttered, nudging him. "And emotional stability."

"You'll get the first one," I croaked.

Fred hadn't spoken. Not really. He just stared.

And then, without warning, he snapped.

"You told me!" His voice rang sharp. Everyone went still. "You wrote me in that first letter about the rune marks. Said they were weird. Painful. Strange."

I winced.

"But you didn't say they were killing you. You didn't say they were carving you open from the inside!"

"I downplayed it," I whispered. "It was terrifying, and between Blaise and Draco and—Fred, I didn't want you to worry—"

He ran a hand through his hair like he might tear it out. "Well, surprise. I worried."

"And when you didn't write back after I sent that first letter," I said, quieter now, the words catching in my throat, "I thought maybe... I scared you. Or maybe you'd changed your mind."

Fred's face cracked open like someone had hit him square in the ribs. But it wasn't surprise—it was guilt.

"I didn't," he said, voice low. "I was never scared."

Katie shifted, her arms crossing tightly. "She downplayed it," she said softly, not looking at either of us. "In that letter. Even to me."

Fred nodded slowly, jaw tight. "Rowan told me what he knew. Katie filled in the rest. But by then, Adrien—" His eyes found mine again. "You were already hiding how bad it was."

"I didn't want to be a problem," I whispered. "Not when everything else was already falling apart."

Fred stepped forward. "You're not a problem. You're my person. And if I'd known you thought I was backing off—"

Fred's words died for a moment, he looked at Katie and opened his mouth—then stopped. Jaw tight. Whatever he was about to say, he swallowed it.

Katie shook her head, barely perceptible.

I caught it.

That look.

That silence.

The unspoken understanding between them that I wasn't part of.

My brow arched. "What was that?"

Fred cleared his throat. "Nothing."

Katie didn't look at me. Just sipped her tea like it was suddenly fascinating.

Suspicious. Both of them.

"Where's mine—?" I pointed weakly at the tea, glaring at Rowan before the doors were slammed open.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley entered with Dumbledore—each of them scanning me like I might disappear again. Mrs. Weasley looked one second from tears. Mr. Weasley looked like he'd already cried in the corridor.

But Dumbledore...

He stepped to the foot of my bed, slow. Purposeful. And from the folds of his robes, he pulled it out:

That damned black envelope.

He placed it at the foot of the bed like a curse on an altar.

My body recoiled before I could think about it. Every hair on my arms lifted. The bandaged skin over my runes burned.

Fred saw it.

Katie grabbed my hand.

Rowan stood silently behind them, jaw tight.

"You read it aloud," Dumbledore said quietly. "Were you the only one that read it aloud?" His eyes scanned the group as no one answered, his eyes hardened in the moment of realization.

I nodded, shaking. "I just...read it—I didn't think—"

"It was a binding. One that only activates when spoken by the right blood."

Maddie gasped softly.

Sage made a sound like she wanted to throw the envelope into the sun. "I'll kill him," she muttered. "Anselme. Blaise. Anyone who even looked at her wrong."

George, from behind her, looped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. "Not without me."

Cassian, still next to Maddie, took her hand without a word.

I just stared at them all, blinking back tears I hadn't even realized were there.

"You said you study cursed languages," I said hoarsely to Cassian.

"I do," he said. "I'll help you. As long as you let me."

Katie pulled me into her side and didn't let go.

"You don't get to do this alone again," she said fiercely. "You don't get to lie just to protect us from your pain."

I buried my face in her shoulder.

"Okay," I whispered. "Not again."

There was a moment of stillness that settled over us for a moment. Mrs. Weasley was the first to move.

"Oh, sweetheart," she breathed, sweeping toward me with a force that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with maternal gravity. She pulled me into her arms like I was still a child and had scraped my knee instead of nearly bleeding myself dry from a cursed envelope. Her grip was tight, soothing, and smelled faintly of cinnamon and nerves.

"You terrified us," she murmured, fingers brushing my hair back. "Four days, Adrien. Four."

"I know," I croaked.

"I told you we should've come sooner," Mr. Weasley said from behind her, voice low but firm. "As soon as Rowan's letter arrived."

Fred muttered, "I told you I should've come alone that night." But no one acknowledged it. Not yet.

Mr. Weasley stepped forward and gave my knee a gentle pat like he didn't want to overwhelm me more. "Just promise you'll tell someone next time. Anyone. Even if it's just... me."

"I promise," I whispered.

Rowan adjusted the bandage on my arm a little tighter than necessary before tapping my leg. "Alright. We're heading to the kitchens. You're getting the biggest mug of tea Hogwarts has ever seen. Like, bath-sized."

"Rowan," I said dryly, "you can't conjure a bathtub full of Earl Grey."

"Watch me sis," he said, already heading for the door. "Back in ten."

I grinned after him at the sound of him calling me 'sis'.

The others filed out behind him—Sage muttering something about glitter hexes and Maddie threatening to charm "Don't Curse My Friends" across the Slytherin dungeon walls in glowing letters.

Katie hesitated at the door, gave me a look that said behave, and followed them.

That left me with Fred.

He didn't sit right away.

He just stood there, arms crossed like he was trying not to wring his own hands.

"Can you look at me?" he asked softly.

I did. And it hit me—how tired he looked. How scared. But also how angry.

Not at me. Never at me.

"I should've been here," he said finally.

"You were," I whispered. "In every way that mattered."

He exhaled, stepped forward, and brushed a hand along the edge of my bandaged arm with the kind of reverence that made my breath catch.

"You scared the hell out of me," he murmured.

"Good," I said, trying for a grin. "Then we're even."

He didn't smile back—not fully. But his thumb brushed the top of my hand, and that was enough.

"You're not doing this alone again, okay?" he said. "I don't care how strong you think you are. If you don't let me in—I can't protect you."

My throat tightened. "I don't want to be protected."

"Too bad," he said, eyes flicking over my face like he was memorizing it again. "You're stuck with me anyway."

I closed my eyes and leaned into his palm.

"I'm really glad you're here," I whispered.

His voice cracked on the reply. "Me too."

Dumbledore didn't say anything as he reached for the black envelope.

His fingers brushed it gently—like even he knew better than to treat it carelessly. His eyes met mine, just once, a thousand things unspoken behind those half-moon lenses. Then, without a word, he slipped it back into the folds of his robes and turned toward the door.

The click of it closing behind him felt quieter than it should've been.

Like even the air knew to tread lightly tonight.

Fred exhaled once and then moved.

He didn't ask—he didn't need to. He crawled up onto the bed with me like it was second nature, careful with every inch. He shifted until I was tucked against his chest, until his arm wrapped beneath my shoulders and the other settled around my waist—never tight, never pressing. Just there.

Steady.

I melted into him like I'd been holding my shape too long without him.

His nose brushed my temple. "This okay?" he asked quietly.

I nodded into his chest. "Perfect."

He adjusted the blanket over both of us, his hand never leaving mine. And for a while, we just breathed.

Everything ached. My skin, my bones, my chest.

But this? This didn't.

"Don't let them kill Blaise without me," I mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

Fred chuckled low against my hair. "Wouldn't dream of it."

I must've drifted off again, because the next time I stirred, the scent of something warm and cinnamon-adjacent hit my nose like a godsend.

Voices filtered through the blur—low, familiar, and chaotic in a way that didn't make my ribs tense.

"...you said the biggest you could find, not the entire bloody soup cauldron—"

"I'm telling you, she needs hydration. This is a healing chalice, not a bowl."

"You brewed tea in it, Rowan. Tea."

My eyes cracked open.

Light poured through the tall windows of the Hospital Wing—cool, early winter sunlight. And standing at the end of my bed, like they'd never left, was my chaos crew.

Katie sat perched on the edge of the mattress, already smirking at my squint. "Hey, Sleeping Hex. We brought reinforcements."

Rowan held up a mug so comically large I had to blink twice to confirm it wasn't enchanted. "Your post-apocalyptic tea goblet, m'lady."

I tried to laugh. It came out raspy, but real. "I'm going to drown."

"Worth it," he said, carefully handing it over. "It's got honey and everything. Might cure trauma."

Fred shifted beside me on the bed, one arm braced gently behind my shoulders as I leaned up to take it. He adjusted my pillow with the same kind of reverence you'd use handling a cursed artifact—except his eyes weren't afraid. They were soft. Glowing. Like he couldn't decide if he wanted to protect me or kiss every inch of me better.

I managed two sips before the cup nearly swallowed my entire face.

"Easy," Fred murmured, brushing a thumb across my temple. "You've already defied death once this week."

"I was aiming for twice," I muttered.

He huffed out a sound that was almost a laugh, kissed my temple, and tucked the blanket higher over my lap—like I might float away if he didn't weigh me down with softness.

Maddie flopped into the chair beside me. "Or it might knock you out long enough to forget Blaise's creepy staring problem." she nodded at the overgrown mug.

Cassian trailed in behind her, already carrying a fresh stack of books. "Or she could rest," he added mildly. "Like a normal person."

"I don't do 'normal,'" I muttered, cradling the tea bowl-mug in both hands. "But thanks."

Fred was still watching me like I held the moon in my bloodstream.

And for the first time in days, the pain didn't feel like it owned me.

Before anyone could say more, the doors creaked again—and in waddled Professor Slughorn, beaming like the air didn't reek of antiseptic and regret.

"Miss Blackwood!" he sang, clapping his hands together. "You've given us all quite the scare. But I must say—recovering with such fanfare! Quite the testament to your resilience. And your social circle."

He nodded to the others with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye.

"Oh no," Katie whispered. "He's about to throw a party."

"Indeed!" Slughorn continued, as if summoned. "Christmas! An intimate gathering of my favorites. The brightest minds. The most promising talent. And of course, you lot."

Sage raised a brow. "Did we get invited or drafted?"

"Invited, of course! Though I do hope you'll all attend. I've heard whispers of your Quidditch prowess, your magical affinity, your... flair for drama."

Rowan muttered, "He's seen the Glitter Bludger Incident replay."

Slughorn smiled wider. "The invitation will be owled to each of you. Formal attire encouraged. Dueling discouraged. And yes, there will be pudding."

I blinked. "A month from now?"

"A month from now," he confirmed. "Gives you time to heal... and prepare."

With a nod and a final pat to my blanket, Slughorn swept out the door, humming some kind of carol under his breath.

The moment it clicked shut behind him, Maddie groaned. "Do we have to dress up?"

Cassian arched his brow. "You already planned your look, didn't you?"

She didn't deny it.

Katie looked down at me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Think you'll be up for a party?"

I sipped my tea—finally warm to the bones—and nodded. "Yeah. I'll be there."