Adrien.

"You RUINED EVERYTHING!" he howled, stalking toward us, wand raised and shaking with rage. "Do you even understand what you stumbled into?"

He paused, giggling darkly to himself, voice dropping into a snarl.

"I wasn't just playing with forbidden magic," Anselme spat. "I was building an army. I was bringing the Dark Lord back — the old way — the way the fools forgot."

Blaise coughed wetly — blood at the corner of his mouth — and still, still dragged himself up on one elbow.

"I needed strong blood," Anselme snarled. "Strong will — the magic that comes from pain and fear."

He glared at me. At Katie. At us.

"And when they couldn't survive it—" His sneer twisted into something feral. "—I had to cleanse it. Sacrifice it."

Another curse snapped through the air.

Blaise—still breathing, still moving—threw himself in front of it.

Again.

"BLAISE!"

He hit the ground harder this time — too hard — his body limp.

"You found out," Anselme hissed, stalking closer. "Tricked me with Veritaserum. Blackmailed me. Forced my hand."

I blinked. Hard.

The scent of eggs and firewood jolted me like a slap.

Someone clinked a spoon against porcelain.

Someone else sneezed nearby.

Gryffindor table and Breakfast.

Though it tasted like ash.

Or maybe that was just the residual side effect of almost turning a common room into a magical fireball last night. Either way, I was pretty sure the scrambled eggs were judging me.

"I swear," Maddie muttered from across the table, furiously stirring her tea like it had personally insulted her. "If Dumbledore doesn't call us in before lunch, I'm just going to throw myself down a staircase and see if that gets his attention."

"Not the good one," Sage said. "Pick the spiral near the Herbology wing. It has dramatic echo."

Katie, across from me, was pale but steady. The kind of steady that only comes from being burned out emotionally, and making out with your boyfriend all in one day.

"You good?" I asked, blinking slowly like my soul hadn't been dragging itself behind me since sunrise.

She nodded, but didn't answer.

Which was fine. Because Sage decided to fill the silence by cracking a boiled egg with so much force it bounced off her plate and into Maddie's pumpkin juice.

Maddie did not blink.

"That egg is a metaphor," she said darkly.

"For what?"

"My sanity."

I smirked, but it faded quickly. Everything still felt... fragile. Like I was made of fine china and someone had dropped me, then tried to glue the pieces back with a spell that only half worked.

I poked at my toast and glanced up at the High Table.

Dumbledore wasn't even here yet.

Probably busy trying to decode whatever flaming magical SOS we'd set off in the forest last week.

"I feel like we're waiting for a trial," Sage whispered, eyeing the Professors like they were the Wizengamot. "Except instead of a jury we get McGonagall, and instead of a wand I have an unhealthy caffeine dependency."

"We're not on trial," Katie said.

"Yet," Maddie added.

I sighed. "You guys are not helping."

"We're keeping you grounded," Sage said, sipping her tea. "Through chaos."

"Through sarcasm and fear," Maddie corrected.

"Same thing."

I rested my forehead on the table.

"I almost combusted yesterday," I mumbled into the wood. "Let me have a few minutes before my social battery is drained by your trauma comedy routine."

"Oh please," Sage scoffed. "You're fueled by trauma and spite. This is your zone."

Katie gave a faint smile, then turned her eyes to the Head Table again. "There he is."

Dumbledore had arrived.

Late. Unbothered. Carrying a napkin like it was a weapon of calm.

And I knew, the second he looked down our way—just briefly, just enough—that it was time.

We were going to tell him.

Tell him about the cabinet.

About Draco.

We stood as one.

Not intentionally, not even in sync—Katie gave me a nod.

Maddie drained the rest of her tea like it was her last sip of freedom.

Sage stuffed two biscuits in her pocket and muttered, "For morale," when I raised a brow.

We walked toward the front of the hall with the kind of nervous dignity normally reserved for war tribunals and particularly intense career advice meetings.

The Professors all clocked us instantly.

Flitwick offered a polite, if slightly concerned smile.

Hagrid gave us a double thumbs up and mouthed something about "spine" and "grit," which only made Maddie giggle nervously.

Trelawney adjusted her shawl dramatically, as if she'd predicted this exact moment and still found a way to be surprised by it.

Slughorn, of course, perked up like a sugar-hyped Puffskein.

"Ladies!" he beamed, waving a sausage link in vague greeting. "Don't tell me you've finally decided to join the Slug Club en masse—excellent timing, I've just received a case of crystallized ginger—"

"We actually need to speak with the Headmaster," Katie said, polite but firm, eyes flicking only briefly to the plate he was now offering.

"Alone," I added, because if we didn't specify, Slughorn would absolutely try to turn this into a brunch interview.

Dumbledore set down his napkin with a kind of quiet precision that said he already knew. Of course he did.

"Of course, Miss Blackwood," he said gently. "If you would join me in my office?"

Snape shifted. Just slightly.

Like his chair was suddenly too still for the moment.

"I think I should be present for this," he said, rising half an inch.

McGonagall, without even looking up from her toast, reached out and pressed one finger to his shoulder.

He sat back down immediately.

Katie blinked. "Did McGonagall just side-eye Snape into submission?"

"I'm telling you," Sage whispered as we followed Dumbledore out, "she's the final boss."

Dumbledore's office was warm and too quiet. Fawkes blinked down at us like he was also evaluating our moral character.

We didn't sit.

None of us could.

Katie stepped forward first. "We need to tell you about the Room of Requirement."

His brows lifted slightly, but he nodded. "Go on."

And we did.

Piece by piece.

Katie told him about the broom. The wand. The night she saw Draco working on something hidden, something desperate.

Sage chimed in with the moment the cabinet was discovered, cracked open and glowing.

Maddie brought out their research. "There are only two cabinets like it left—Knockturn Alley and this one. The magic's twin-linked, like an anchor."

"And we think..." I took a breath. "We think Draco's trying to bring something in. Maybe someone."

Dumbledore didn't interrupt. Didn't blink. He simply folded his hands and listened.

Katie's voice dropped lower. "And I think Harry might've attacked him last night."

That made all of us look at her, and his eyes narrow.

"He was covered in blood," she said. "Draco. And shaken. Adrien got there first. He wouldn't go to the Hospital Wing."

Sage nodded. "And Snape told us to keep quiet."

Maddie added, "Also, Draco's injuries... they were magically inflicted. And not subtle."

Katie swallowed. "Harry had the map. He knew Draco was lurking in the bathroom. He followed him."

There was silence.

Then Dumbledore, in a voice so calm it was almost eerie, asked, "Has Mr. Potter said anything to you directly about this?"

We all shook our heads.

"I wanted to tell you," Katie said, stepping closer. "I should've told you sooner. But we didn't know how deep it went."

"Or what it meant," I added.

He nodded once. "You were right to come now."

A pause. His eyes swept over each of us, one by one. "And is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

The air pulled tight.

Katie's jaw tensed.

Maddie twitched like she might confess everything just to relieve the pressure.

But we all shook our heads.

"No, sir," Katie said quietly.

Dumbledore studied us for a moment longer.

Then: "Thank you. I will handle it from here. But I trust you all understand—you must be careful. Whatever Mr. Malfoy is planning, you've placed yourselves in the center of it."

We nodded.

"Then you are dismissed."

We turned to go.

At the door, Maddie muttered under her breath, "I feel like I need a cleansing bath and seventeen protective charms after that."

"We still have to pack," Sage whispered.

Katie looked at me as we descended the spiral staircase.

"We still have to leave."

We didn't speak much after leaving Dumbledore's office.

The silence followed us like a second shadow—familiar now, the kind that clings when truth doesn't quite let you breathe right.

But something was chewing at the edge of my memory. Gnawing. Familiar.

And by the time we reached the second floor landing, I stopped walking completely.

The others turned back toward me—Katie with a furrowed brow, Sage chewing the inside of her cheek, Maddie already muttering a very tired "oh no."

"I was thinking this morning—just remembered something," I said, voice low.

"Please tell me it's not another cursed book," Maddie sighed.

"No," I said. "Fourth year. The night we fought Anselme."

Katie went still.

Sage blinked. Maddie perked a little.

"You remember what he said, right?" I asked. "When he caught up with us, in the Forest?"

"You RUINED EVERYTHING," Katie recited instantly, voice low. "'Do you even understand what you stumbled into?'" She paused, earning impressed smiles from Sage and myself as Maddie snorted. She cleared her throat, "That bit?"

I nodded once, tight. "Exactly. And what came after. He wasn't just experimenting with dark magic—he was obsessed with resurrection. He said he was going to bring the Dark Lord back—the old way."

Maddie frowned. "Yeah, but he was insane. His monologues sounded like rejected Metallica lyrics."

"He talked about pain and fear being conduits," I said, voice sharper now. "Strong blood. Strong will. He said when the body couldn't survive it, he had to cleanse it. Sacrifice it."

Katie went still beside me. "That's... too close."

And then I said it.

"Cassian pulled me aside this morning. I wasn't going to say anything until we had confirmation, but I can't get this weird connection out of my head." I gestured for them to move as a crowd of fifth years shoved past. "He thinks my runes are tied to resurrection magic."

The words fell like glass.

Even Maddie stopped moving.

Sage—blanched, her knuckles white around the stone banister.

Katie's jaw tensed.

"He found a passage in the cursed book," I went on, lowering my voice. "It described a ritual—used to bind resurrection magic into the body. To anchor the caster between life and death. The runes... they're marks. Brands."

Maddie shook her head. "That's not what yours are doing though. You're not channeling spirits or—walking corpses."

"No," I snorted. "But I'm not untouched either." I looked down at my palms, flexed my fingers. "They burn. Every night now. Worse than before. Like the runes are trying to cast something in my sleep."

Katie's whisper was barely audible. "Adrien..."

"I think Anselme was using an early version of the same ritual. At Beauxbatons. And we—" I exhaled. "We were next. We stopped him before he could start. But now..."

"He sent the cursed letter through Blaise," Maddie added quietly, fidgeting with her sleeve. "Maybe even as a test of loyalty—"

"—as a Deatheater," Katie finished for her, voice tight.

We all exchanged looks.

"So he sent it to the Burrow," I said. "It wasn't a secret where we were staying...and I'm the only one who read it aloud."

"And it would've been really fucked up," Maddie muttered, "if whoever read it activated a curse that hit everyone who heard it."

That earned her three very sharp glares.

Sage dropped onto the stone bench like her knees gave out. She stared up at me, wide-eyed. "You're saying this started when we were fourteen?"

"No." I crouched down in front of her, locking onto her gaze. "I think it started when girls started going missing when we were thirteen."

Sage's breath caught.

"When we finally blew that whistle," I went on, "he was watching you. You were close to us."

I saw the way her throat bobbed, her grip tightening on the stone.

"He didn't realize until we were gone. That we were it. That we were the perfect candidates for his ritual." I stood slowly. "I don't think the runes are a curse anymore."

Katie stared at me. "They're... keys."

And that hit harder than anything else. I felt it in my chest. The lock. The shape. The weight.

"They're trying to open something," I whispered.

A beat passed.

Then Katie added, "Cassian said something last night. Something I think you need to hear."

We resumed walking, our usual formation falling into place without a word—Maddie, Katie, me, and Sage.

Katie looked ahead, voice measured but tight. "He said... if you keep pushing like this—it's going to tear straight through you."

My stomach flipped.

I didn't tell them how I'd woken this morning with my bedsheets singed again, or how I'd washed blood from my palms in silence.

Instead, I just whispered, "I know."

Because part of me could feel it. Whatever I was carrying—whatever this was—it wasn't done taking from me.

The portrait hole creaked open just past sunset.

Golden firelight pooled across the floor in lazy shapes, casting the common room in that hush-before-curfew glow — soft, still, deceptively normal.

Cassian looked up first.

He was slouched in one of the armchairs, boots propped against the hearth, flicking a smooth black stone between his fingers like it was keeping his pulse steady. Rowan stood nearby, arms folded tight across his chest, expression unreadable.

Katie stepped inside and dropped her bag with a sigh that didn't quite hide how tense she was.

Cassian arched his brow. "Well?"

Rowan leaned forward. "What did Dumbledore say?"

I exchanged a look with Katie.

"He listened," she said. "To everything. The cabinet. Draco. Knockturn Alley. All of it."

"But?" Rowan prompted.

Katie shrugged. "Nothing. No promises. No shock. He just nodded. Said he'd 'look into it.'"

"And probably already knew most of it," Maddie muttered.

"Exactly," Sage added. "Gave classic cryptic-grandfather energy and then went back to his lemon drop addiction."

Cassian chuckled under his breath. "Then it's good we're not counting on him."

He stood and reached beneath the chair, producing something wrapped in rough cloth. He unspooled it slowly, deliberately, like it might still bite.

A tarnished goblet — warped near the rim, darkened with old rust.

It pulsed faintly with magic.

Katie blinked. "Is that—?"

"A portkey," Cassian said, offering it out with both hands like a sacred thing. "It activates at dawn."

I hesitated. "Where did it come from?"

Cassian didn't look at me right away. He folded the cloth neatly. Set it aside. Then said, cool and quiet:

"Selwyns have connections. Even the ones we don't like to admit."

Maddie squinted. "Wait—are you saying this is from your family?"

"They still send me Christmas owls," he said dryly. "Might as well use them for something useful."

Maddie's eyes softened and she immediately intertwined her fingers in with his and leaned into his shoulder.

Rowan frowned. "They just handed over an unsupervised portkey to some teenagers they don't know?"

Cassian smiled. "They didn't ask what it was for. I didn't tell them."

Sage muttered, "That's... not ominous at all."

"Still safer than broom travel," Cassian offered.

"No it's not," Maddie whispered into his shoulder, immediately.

Katie stepped forward, studying the goblet. "Is it stable?"

Cassian nodded once. "Safe as I could make it. Anchored, warded, tuned to Beauxbatons' original border sigils."

"And if we get stuck halfway through?" Sage asked.

"Don't," he replied simply.

Katie snorted while Maddie raised both of her eyebrows.

I glanced at the goblet. Then at the four of us.

Witchy, unhinged, half-cursed.

Beauxbatons had no idea what was coming—what was coming...back that is.

"We leave at dawn," I said. "We pack. We sleep. No second-guessing."

Maddie gave a mock salute. "Yes, commander."

Katie cracked a smile. "It's gonna be fine."

Cassian met my eyes and said nothing.

But he didn't have to.

This was it.