Katie.

The dock creaks beneath us, but it's a comfort more than a warning. Like the lakehouse itself is stretching, waking up with us. I lean back on my hands, toes skimming the lake's surface, and glance sideways at Rowan.

He's got that quiet expression again. The one that always makes me nervous because it usually means he's thinking too hard—and not telling me any of it.

"You know we've been here a week," I say, nudging him with my shoulder. "Feels like months."

Rowan's mouth tilts up at the corner. "Longest week of my life."

I huff a dry laugh. "And the newlyweds?"

He grins properly now. "Fred still looks like he's surprised she said yes. Adrien's been—"

"—Adrien," we say in unison, and it makes us both smile.

But the smile fades fast.

"It's time, isn't it?" I murmur, staring at the rippling water. "We've stayed put long enough."

Rowan nods. "Time to start hunting the men who tried to kill us."

As if we were too comfortable, that night we don't realize something's wrong until the house shakes.

Fred's shout rips through the hall like a blade.

I'm up and sprinting before I even register the motion. My legs feel too slow. The stairs too long.

The second I hit the landing, I see him—Fred, kneeling beside Adrien's bed, one hand clutching her shoulder, the other floating midair like he doesn't know where to land it. His face is white. His voice is wrecked.

"Adrien, wake up. Adrien, please—"

She's thrashing.

Sweat clings to her skin. Her back arches, then drops. Her mouth moves but no sound escapes. She's caught—somewhere between dream and terror, and whatever she's seeing, it's tearing her apart.

And her skin—

It's glowing.

Not carved. Not bleeding. But lit from within, like fire under glass.

Faint rune patterns bloom beneath the surface of her skin. Glowing gold. Then red. Then fading to violet. Like they're trying to resurface. Like they never really left—just burrowed deeper.

Fred looks up at me, eyes wide with terror.

"It's not the old marks," he says, voice shaking. "It's coming from under. It's like they've been sleeping and something just woke them up."

His words splinter in my chest.

"She's dreaming," he adds. "Something's triggered it."

I don't think. I reach out—

The moment my fingers brush her arm, I'm hit with a blast of heat. Not fire. Not pain. But magic. Raw. Wild. Alive.

My own skin flares. Power pulses from my palm like a ripple through still water. My magic mirrors hers—not perfectly, not identically—but synced.

Same rhythm. Different song.

Cassian barrels in, out of breath, wand half-raised, but he stops cold the second he sees us. "Bloody hell—" He freezes. His eyes flick from me to Adrien, then to Fred. Then back to our glowing hands.

"What the hell is this?"

"I don't know," Fred says, broken. "But it won't stop."

The magic builds. It hums through the air like electricity before a storm. I can feel it in my teeth, in my chest, under my fingernails. Adrien's breathing is ragged, but slower now. The glow dims, then pulses, then—

BOOM.

Not an explosion—just the thunder of footsteps and chaotic yelling as the rest of the house finally catches up to the fact that something very, very wrong is happening upstairs.

Sage bursts in first, wand drawn and hair sticking up at odd angles. "If this is about someone eating the last cinnamon roll again, I swear to Merlin—"

Maddie crashes in behind her, nearly tripping over a boot. "ARE WE UNDER ATTACK?! Is this a hex? A curse? An exorcism?"

George appears, wide-eyed and clutching a pillow like a weapon. "Tell me this is a dream. I just got back to sleep."

"It's not a dream," Cassian mutters, still frozen. "It's something else."

"Guys," I snap, eyes still locked on Adrien, "shut up."

They do.

Because suddenly, it all goes quiet.

The light—gone. The glow—extinguished. Adrien slumps like a marionette with its strings cut.

Fred catches her before she hits the mattress, cradling her like something precious and fragile. He's breathing like he just ran a marathon. My own chest feels like it's been used as a punching bag.

Silence crashes in, hard and fast.

George is still holding his pillow like it might bite him.

Cassian is the first to speak. He looks between me and Adrien, blinking slowly.

"Alright," he says, stunned. "I'm training you both. Starting tomorrow."

Maddie raises a hand. "Can I request a time that's not a.m.?"

Sage mutters, "Can I request a reason my best friend just turned into a bloody nightlight—again?"

Fred doesn't say anything. He just holds Adrien tighter.

And no one questions that either.

Fred wraps Adrien in a blanket and holds her like she's made of glass. He doesn't speak until she opens her eyes again, groggy and confused. He pulls back just enough to look her in the face.

"I married you," he whispers. "Not your magic."

Adrien doesn't even blink. "You married both."

Fred nods. Then kisses her forehead like it's an apology he's not sure how to say.

Rowan takes my hand from behind, startling me a little and tugs me back out of the room and into the hallway. He slows, realizing I'm shaking.

His voice is tight, but concerned, steadier than Fred's. "You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm glowing," I mutter. "And not in the 'thanks-for-the-compliment' way."

He grins faintly. "Then we glow together."

I grin back, even as my pulse races.

The elopement changed everything.

Not because Fred and Adrien are different now—but because it reminded us what we're all fighting for.

We're tighter. More reckless. More in love.

More dangerous than ever. And the hunt starts tomorrow.

The house is still later in the brighter hours of the morning, save for the faint snores echoing from various corners.

The boys are all passed out—one on the couch, two on the floor, one in an armchair with a blanket half-draped over his face. Rowan's foot twitches every few seconds like he's still dueling in his sleep.

It was clear that there was an attempt to wake up on their part, but clearly it failed.

The girls, however, are wide awake.

Sage and Maddie stumble into the kitchen first, groggy but alert. They find Adrien already outside, sitting on the back deck in one of the worn chairs, coffee mug in hand, blanket draped over her shoulders.

She doesn't turn when they open the door. She doesn't have to.

"Morning," Adrien mutters.

"Is it?" Maddie yawns. "Feels fake."

I joined them a minute later, balancing three mugs—two teas, one coffee. She hands off the drinks like offerings.

"Our queen of caffeine," Sage says dramatically.

I rolled her eyes. "You're lucky I didn't spit in yours."

They settle into the chairs around Adrien, the deck groaning gently beneath them. The lake is still and glassy, the sun just starting to stretch over the horizon.

"How are you feeling?" I asked quietly.

Adrien doesn't answer right away. Just sips her coffee. Then:

"It was a dream," she says softly. "But not. It felt real. Like I was back in the second task, like the runes were wrapping around me again. Only this time, I let them. And they didn't burn. They listened."

The girls are silent.

I looked down at her tea. "I mirrored it. Your magic. When I touched you. It was like... it jumped."

Adrien's head snaps toward her. So do Sage's and Maddie's.

"You what?"

I nodded, slowly. "I didn't mean to—obviously. It just... happened."

"We were glowing," Adrien whispers.

"Matching," I confirmed. "Cassian said he's training us."

Maddie lets out a low whistle. "So now we have magical PTSD twins?"

Sage shakes her head, processing her two best friends being PTSD twins now, then leans forward. "So what do we do next?"

Cassian steps onto the deck just then, a mug of black coffee in hand and eyes that look like they haven't slept.

"Was that what I think it was?" he asks, sitting on the deck rail. "Wandless and speechless—like I knew Adrien could do that with the runes, but both of you? Because if that's true, it explains the mirroring."

"We've always been able to do it," Adrien says. "Since Katie moved in. Since before Hogwarts."

Cassian arches a brow. "And no one thought to mention this why?"

Katie shrugs. "We didn't know it mattered."

Cassian sips his coffee and exhales slowly. "There's a rare phenomenon called magical mirroring. It's usually only seen in cases of traumatic magical bonds—like what happens when you push magic too far and two people get tethered by survival. It's rare. Powerful. And hard as hell to control."

Adrien and I exchange a look.

I cleared my throat. "When the runes resurfaced last night, they weren't on her skin. They were in her. That makes a difference, right?"

Cassian goes still. "Fuck!"

"What?" Sage's eyes went wide as Maddie froze in mid-sip.

"That's not good," he mutters. "When she was cursed, the runes took over. We saw what that looked like." He gestured vaguely with his cup, eyeing all four of us. "But when she almost killed Anselme—"

Adrien flinches, Maddie placed her hand on her knee with a small squeeze.

"—the runes didn't reject her. They chose her. They embedded themselves. Like they're part of her now."

No one speaks.

Cassian presses on. "If you're already bonded through mirroring, and your magic responds by touch, that means every flare Adrien has will ripple into Katie. It's a feedback loop. One sparks, the other lights."

I frowned. "Then why wouldn't this have happened before? We've both been through... everything. Why now?"

Cassian went quiet for a moment, the kind of pause that made your stomach knot before the truth even landed.

"Because before," he said slowly, "it was emotional. Magical mirroring through shared grief, pain, survival. But the runes weren't in her yet."

I blinked. "What do you mean 'in her'?"

"Like you said, they're in her now...guys, they've embedded themselves," he said grimly. "When she almost killed, that power accepted her. Like she proved herself worthy—the runes shed their outer shell—what we saw on her skin—and sunk into her blood."

He glanced between all of us, but his eyes landed on me.

"And whatever triggered them last night? That woke them up."

I felt the chill settle in my spine, even with the morning sun creeping higher.

"You touched her," Cassian added quietly. "And you're her tightest bond—excluding Fred, no offense." He gave a half-hearted nod to Maddie and Sage, who both looked too stunned to be offended. "But magically? You're her mirror—and she, yours. So now it's not just Adrien's burden. It's yours too. One just more than the other."

"So what do we do?" Sage asked, still pale.

Cassian looked between us. "We train. Hard. But once we move, we can't stay here."

"Too risky," Maddie agreed, voice steady now. "We've been still too long."

Fred grinned as he stepped outside, a tray of toasted bagels balanced on one hand and his other already drifting to Adrien's shoulder like it was instinct. "We brought carbs and questions."

Adrien didn't even look up—just blindly reached for the bagel like she knew exactly where he'd be. Fred passed it to her, fingers brushing hers with a spark of quiet affection, then leaned down and muttered near her ear, "Tried to burn the second batch. On purpose. Just to see if you'd yell."

Adrien cracked a tired smirk, eyes still fixed on the lake. "You're an idiot."

"Yours, though," Fred shot back, unapologetic.

Behind him, Rowan stepped out with the second tray and made a beeline for me, raising a brow like he already knew I hadn't had enough tea to deal with any of this. "Food, love of my life, and a scowl just for you," he said as he handed me a plate. "Go easy on Cassian."

"I'll consider it," I muttered, but I leaned into his side anyway. He smelled like toast and cinnamon. Safe things.

George stumbled out next, yawning so hard his jaw popped. He was still wearing mismatched socks and had a half-buttered slice of bread in one hand like it was the answer to everything.

"Why does it smell like a magical intervention out here?" he grumbled.

"Because it is," Maddie said sweetly, plucking a bagel off Fred's tray. "Also, I have a solution. My family's got a rental property in Wroxham. Quiet, across the country, shielded like a paranoid cursebreaker lives there. We can train without drawing attention."

Cassian, who had been watching her carefully from his place on the deck rail, finally stepped forward. He didn't say anything at first—just reached out and took Maddie's hand. She blinked but didn't let go.

"That's perfect," he said. "We pack today. We move tonight."

George looked between their joined hands and Sage, who was now curled next to him with her head on his shoulder and a smirk creeping across her face. "Wroxham," he repeated. "Fancy name for a battlefield."

Sage reached up and swiped his slice of bread before taking a dramatic bite. "We'll make it one."

Fred slid onto the deck beside Adrien, their knees bumping. "You good?" he asked, voice low and for her alone.

Adrien didn't answer at first—just leaned into his shoulder, eyes still on the water. Then she murmured, "I will be."

He nodded once and kissed the top of her head.

And just like that, with bagels in hand and battle lines drawn, the Chaos Crew had a new destination.

Wroxham. Time to get to work.

Packing in a war zone wasn't exactly... elegant. It was more like a live-action circus with wands.

Sage was hexing her duffel to float behind her like an enchanted puppy—until it got stuck in the doorframe and refused to move without snacks.

George was trying to fit his entire prank arsenal into one bag and having a full-blown argument with it. "No, I need the dungbombs, Sheila, don't look at me in that tone!"

"Are you yelling at your backpack?" Maddie asked, levitating her trunk with one hand while re-doing her braid with the other and giving Cassian a crash course in her family's warding system. "Because that's a new low."

"Don't sass her," George huffed. "She's moody. She holds grudges."

Cassian, meanwhile, was just calmly vanishing item after item with a flick of his wand and the occasional muttered "sorted," looking like the eye of the hurricane while all hell broke loose around him.

Fred was hunched over Adrien's open bag, trying to Tetris her belongings into the side pockets while she tossed in yet another pair of boots.

"You don't even wear the green ones," he said.

"They match my curse energy," Adrien deadpanned.

Fred paused. "...That actually checks out."

Rowan and I were technically packed.

I say "technically" because while my bag was zipped and spelled, Rowan kept trying to sneak in extra protective enchantments every time I blinked—muttering things like "just in case" and "harmless minor shielding" like he wasn't warding my shampoo.

"For the love of Merlin," I groaned, catching him hovering over my satchel again, wand raised.

He didn't even blink. "You got cursed in a dressing room once. I'm warding the zippers."

I rolled my eyes and banished his clean socks into the freezer with a flick of my fingers.

He stared after them, unimpressed. "The freezer?"

"Gotta keep your ego chilled somehow," I said sweetly.

The deck was an actual disaster zone by the time the sun dipped below the trees—bags floating, parcels bouncing off the banisters, half-eaten sandwiches sitting next to potion vials that definitely weren't labeled. I was 90% sure one of George's extendable ears was tangled in Sage's hair. No one had addressed it.

Cassian clapped his hands like a tired professor trying to rein in a room full of chaos gremlins. "Final count—eight bags, eight wands, and one inexplicably enchanted spatula. We ready?"

"Everyone got your backup wands?" Rowan added, eyes flicking to each of us like a drill sergeant.

"I've got a frying pan," Maddie said brightly, raising it like a war trophy.

George turned to look at her like she'd just handed him a marriage license. "Soulmate." earning an elbow from Sage.

Fred slid an arm around Adrien's waist like he'd been waiting for someone to ask. "Ready?"

She exhaled, a little grin playing at her lips. "Always."

"Wait—" Sage froze, blinking. "Did we remember the invisibility cloak? Or is this one of those 'wing it and cry later' operations?"

"Yes," Rowan answered flatly.

"That's not an answer," she snapped.

"Sure it is."

Cassian sighed like he aged five years. "Can we Apparate now, or do I need to hex the spatula for silence?"

"Try it," Maddie dared. "See what happens."

George took a dramatic step away from her. "Please don't anger the kitchenware."

We were a mess. Loud, scattered, under-rested.

But we were packed. And we were moving.

Because if the world was going to burn, the Chaos Crew wasn't waiting for an invitation.

The second our boots hit the stone path leading up to the Wroxham house, I knew we weren't in Devon anymore.

The place looked like something out of a cursed fairytale—if the fairytale had been rewritten by a paranoid witch with a flair for dramatic architecture. Ivy crawled up the crooked stone walls like it had a vendetta. The steep gables loomed overhead, and massive windows caught the last of the sunset in fractured gold. The wards shimmered in the air like heat waves, thick and humming with energy, brushing against our skin the moment we stepped inside the boundary.

"This," Maddie said proudly, "is the backup estate. Technically, it belongs to my aunt. She's a little... intense."

"What kind of intense?" I asked.

"Hexed her ex's wardrobe to scream every time he touches flannel."

"...I like her," Sage said immediately.

The front door creaked open with a groan that was either ancient wood or the house warning us. Possibly both.

And from the moment we stepped inside—it was chaos.

"THERE'S A GREENHOUSE!" Sage screamed from the east wing. Her boots were already scuffed with dirt, and I hadn't even seen her pick up a spade.

Maddie disappeared upstairs, her voice echoing from above. "There's a bathtub up here big enough to drown a Deatheater in!"

George wandered off muttering something about needing to test the water pressure. I heard a thud, a yelp, and then—"Found a dumbwaiter system! Sage, I dare you to ride it!"

"I'll do it if Cassian holds my wand," Sage yelled back.

"I'm not being responsible for your death via antique houseware," Cassian replied dryly.

Fred and Adrien were already arguing in the west tower over who got the turret suite. I heard a zap, a curse, and then Fred's delighted shout of, "I WIN BY TECHNICALITY!"

"You tripped me!" Adrien yelled.

"Strategically."

Rowan found a hidden trapdoor in the floor and opened it with the casual detachment of someone used to secrets. "There's a trap cellar," he announced. "Naturally."

I took a step into the common room, my boots brushing over a cracked tile with a scorch mark in the corner and what I really hoped wasn't a cursed teacup sitting in the fireplace.

And I paused.

Because for all the dust and magic and inherited eccentricity... this was it.

This was home. At least for now.

Our next hideout. Our next battleground. Our next breath before the storm.

I glanced around at the blur of my friends—my family—staking out rooms and arguing over bunk arrangements and shoving George out of the dumbwaiter shaft.

And grinned that felt so temporary it was almost gut wrenching.

By the time we finally stopped moving, it was nearly midnight.

We'd claimed a room tucked in the second floor's far corner. It was slightly slanted, with old floorboards that creaked and a window just big enough to catch the stars. There was a fireplace that refused to light unless you asked politely, and a bookshelf Rowan had already alphabetized while I was unpacking.

He was sitting on the bed now, tugging off his boots while I tried (and failed) to charm a dent out of my pillow.

"Give it up," he said. "I think it's been hexed to hold grudges."

I sighed dramatically and flopped down beside him. "Why would a pillow hold a grudge?"

Rowan grinned as he looked down at me. "Probably saw the way you murdered that poor tea kettle last week."

"In my defense," I muttered, poking his ribs, "it hissed at me first."

He caught my hand and pulled me closer, leaning over me until I could feel his breath fan across my cheek. "Is this where I pretend to be afraid of you?" he murmured.

"You should always be a little afraid of me."

"I am," he whispered, brushing a kiss to my jaw. "Terrified."

I laughed—but it faded when I noticed he wasn't smiling anymore.

There was something in his eyes. Something quiet. Tight.

I sat up, brushing hair from my face. "What's wrong?"

Rowan hesitated. Then exhaled. "You were glowing, Katie."

My chest tightened.

"It was a flare," I said softly. "It's... connected to Adrien."

"I know," he said, voice low. "Cassian explained it, and I get the mirroring thing. I do. But—" He broke off, running a hand down his face. "I just keep thinking about how close it looked to what happened to her last year. To the runes. And now they're inside her—and you touched her—and I—" His voice cracked. "I can't lose you."

"You won't," I said immediately, placing a hand on his chest. "I'm not her, Ro. This isn't the same."

"But what if it becomes the same?" he shot back, his voice hoarse. "What if next time, you're the one on the floor, sparking like you're about to combust? What if I'm not fast enough?"

His worry felt like a live wire in the room, buzzing just beneath the surface.

I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his. "I'm not going anywhere," I whispered. "I promise."

Rowan held me tighter, like he didn't quite believe me yet—but wanted to.

"Fred and I... we talked," he said after a beat. "George and Sage too. We're going to start Apparating back and forth from Grimmauld. Check in with the Order. Gather intel. It's safer for us—purebloods—to come and go without notice."

My breath caught. "You're leaving?"

"Not for long," he said. "We'll rotate. In and out. You and Adrien can't afford to risk moving right now. Not while the magic's unstable. Not while Cassian's training you."

I nodded slowly, heart hammering in my chest. "Just be careful."

He smiled then. "You're one to talk."

I kissed him.

It started slow, familiar—like grounding myself in him.

But then his hand slid to the back of my neck, and I could feel the tension unraveling in his fingers as he kissed me deeper. Slower. Like he was trying to memorize the way I felt under his hands. Like he didn't know how many nights we'd have like this.

And something inside me cracked open.

Because the world was burning, and we were lighting each other like matches.

Clothes slipped to the floor. Hands tangled in sheets. Breath caught and broke and found its way back again.

And just before the edge, just before I forgot what fear felt like—

He whispered it. "I love you."

I blinked, lips parted. Heart full.

Then I whispered it back. "I love you too."

The words felt like armor. Like fire. Like truth.

And that night, we didn't sleep afraid.

We slept knowing we had something to fight for.