It was late one evening when Remus, feeling unusually restless, wandered into the library. Most students had already retreated to their common rooms for the night, and the library was unusually quiet, with only the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for—just a quiet place to think.

As he passed through the aisles of the Restricted Section, his eyes scanning the rows of books, something caught his attention. A large, dusty tome sat tucked away at the back of a shelf, half hidden behind several other ancient volumes. The cover was a faded green with delicate golden lettering that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light—Bloodlines and Siphoning Magic: The Lost Lineage of the Amisari Family.

The name didn't ring any bells. He pulled it down and blew off the dust, its spine creaking as he opened it to the first page. The introduction was dry, detailing obscure magical families long forgotten by the wizarding world, but something about the name "Amisari" stuck with him. He remembered hearing it in passing, but he couldn't quite place where. Curious, he kept reading.

As Remus turned the pages, he began to realize the book wasn't just another history of magical families—it was a detailed account of a specific bloodline with a unique and dangerous type of magic: siphoning magic. The Amisari family had once been well-known for their ability to channel power from their ancestors, drawing upon the strength and magic of those who came before them. This magic was both powerful and volatile, and the family's obsession with it had led to their downfall.

The further Remus read, the more the pieces began to fall into place. The Amisari family's connection to siphoning magic wasn't just a hereditary trait—it was their curse. They had been searching for an artifact, one that would amplify their power but also bind them to an ancient prophecy. According to the book, the artifact, lost for centuries, had been tied to the family's magical lineage for generations. Its power was both a gift and a curse, and it was said to be able to unlock untold amounts of magical energy. But the cost of using it was steep—too much power drawn from one's ancestors could drain their life force entirely, leaving them empty shells of what they once were.

Remus's heart skipped a beat as he read the passage that referenced Elaine Hawthorne, Lyra's mother. It appeared she was the last known Amisari who had been pursuing the artifact, convinced that it held the key to understanding her own family's mysterious magic. But the book hinted that Elaine had gone to extreme lengths to uncover its secrets, and eventually, it had consumed her. The last known mention of her was from years ago, when she mysteriously disappeared after discovering the artifact's location.

Realizing the full weight of what he was reading, Remus's thoughts immediately turned to Lyra. The connection was too strong to ignore—Elaine's obsession with the artifact and her family's magic mirrored the path Lyra was now walking. It was no coincidence that Lyra had been drawn to the same artifact. But if the book was right, continuing her search for it could be dangerous, not just for her, but for everyone around her. The siphoning magic was too volatile, and the artifact could pull her into a spiral of power she might not be able to control.

As Remus closed the book, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. He knew Lyra had been keeping her family's history close to her chest, but now he understood why. She had never known the full extent of the danger, but the legacy of the Amisari family was now part of her fate. And if she continued her search for the artifact, she might very well be walking the same path as her mother—one that ended in loss and destruction.

Remus stared at the book for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. Should he tell Lyra everything he had just learned? Could he even share this with her without pushing her further away? He wasn't sure, but one thing was clear: the more he uncovered, the more dangerous it became for them all. He couldn't ignore this any longer. If Lyra was going to continue her search, she needed to know what he had discovered.

✵

Lyra sat at her desk in the Gryffindor dorm room, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a book, though her mind was far away. The past few days had been filled with fleeting moments of peace, laughter, and even a sense of belonging as she spent more time with the Marauders. But beneath it all, there was still a gnawing unease—the secrets she had yet to uncover about her family, the mystery of her mother's disappearance, and the cursed star chart she was determined to find.

As she lost herself in her thoughts, the soft rustling of parchment brought her back to reality. A small owl perched on the window sill, a letter tied to its leg. Lyra's heart skipped a beat—she recognized the familiar, scrawling handwriting.

It was from Gideon.

With a sense of anticipation and dread, she untied the letter and unfolded it. The words, written in his characteristic sharp, concise style, were clear:

Lyra,

I hope this letter finds you in better health than your last attempt at a "secret midnight adventure" in the Forbidden Forest. I've been keeping an eye on the situation, and I'm well aware of your growing involvement with matters that are far above your head.

I'm not blind to the fact that you're trying to piece together your family's past, but I need to remind you that there's a reason I've been hesitant to allow you to dig too deep into that world. I've seen it all before, and it's a path that doesn't lead to easy answers. It leads to danger—danger that even I can't always shield you from.

You're not just another witch with an old family secret. The magic you're chasing is powerful, and it's dangerous. You may think you're strong enough to face it, but you don't know what you're up against.

I know you're stubborn, but I also know you're clever. So here's my advice: take a step back. Enjoy your time at school. You're in a place where you can learn, grow, and make real friendships. Don't let this search consume you. There will be a time for answers, but that time is not now.

I'll be waiting for you when you're ready to come back to reality.

Take care of yourself,
Gideon Flint.

Lyra's stomach churned as she read the letter. Gideon's words were filled with concern, but they also held a weight of warning. She knew he cared, even if his tough exterior often made it hard to tell.

The letter dropped from her hands, and she sat back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. For a moment, the noise of the common room faded into the background. Was she really ready to give up on the search for the star chart?

Lyra's relationship with Gideon Flint is one of the most constant in her life. When her mother vanished under mysterious circumstances, Gideon stepped in as a surrogate father figure. He had been a mentor to Lyra's mother, a fellow Auror, and had witnessed firsthand the danger her mother had faced while chasing dark magic. After Lyra's mother's disappearance, Gideon took on the responsibility of looking after Lyra, even though he had no familial obligation to do so. For all his gruff exterior, there was a deep care in him for Lyra, even if he struggled to show it.

To Lyra, Gideon was a rock. He was someone who understood the dark side of the magical world all too well, and though he had always been there for her, he made it clear that his loyalty wasn't to her alone. He had a duty as an Auror to protect the greater good, which sometimes meant keeping her at arm's length from the darker aspects of the magical world she was so determined to understand.

Despite his serious nature, there were rare moments when Lyra saw glimpses of the man he was before he became jaded by the weight of his profession. There was the quiet humor, the subtle teasing, and the patience he showed when she would get frustrated with the limitations of the world around her. When she was younger, Gideon used to tell her stories about her mother, stories of bravery and a determination to fight against dark forces. Those moments were some of the few times when Lyra would feel the weight of her loss soften, when the ache of not having her mother felt bearable.

But even though Gideon had been there for her through the years, his insistence on shielding her from the more dangerous aspects of her past had created a barrier between them. He loved her, but it was a love tempered by caution. He wanted to protect her from the dark legacy of her family, but in doing so, he often made her feel as if she couldn't truly understand who she was or where she came from.

For Lyra, it was both comforting and suffocating. On one hand, she appreciated his constant support. She knew that he had given up much of his life to keep her safe, that he had become a guardian, a teacher, and a protector when she needed it the most. Yet, there was always this unspoken tension between them—the fact that he held back the full truth about her mother's disappearance and the magical world Lyra's family had once been a part of. He never spoke about it directly, always deflecting, always trying to steer her away from asking the harder questions.

At school, Lyra would often write to Gideon, updating him on her studies, the friends she had made, and her triumphs in magical theory. He would respond in kind, but his letters were always brief and to the point, with a touch of affection hidden beneath his practical advice. Lyra had learned to decipher the meaning behind his words—when he scolded her for staying out late or sneaking into places she shouldn't, it was his way of showing that he cared. Even when he scolded her for pushing too hard in her search for the truth, she knew it came from a place of concern, not control.

Though Gideon's presence in her life had always been a stabilizing force, it also made her feel alone in a way that was hard to articulate. There were moments when she longed for more from him, moments when she wanted him to see her not as the girl who had lost everything but as someone who could make her own decisions, someone who could handle the truth.

And so, despite her deep respect and affection for him, Lyra often found herself at odds with his protective instincts. She wanted answers—answers about her family, her past, and her future. And Gideon, for all his wisdom and experience, seemed to be the one person who couldn't give them to her.

In this tension between them, Lyra's need to prove herself and her desire to unlock the mysteries of her heritage became even stronger. She began to question if she could ever truly step into her own power while still living under his shadow, under the restrictions of his warnings and protective barriers.

But Lyra also knew that, deep down, Gideon wasn't trying to control her. He had never been the type to smother her with love or shelter her from everything. Instead, his way of loving her was through distance, through trying to ensure she had the chance to live a life that was free from the dangers he'd faced as an Auror. He was simply a man who had seen too much pain and couldn't bear to watch her walk down a similar path.

It was a delicate dance they both played—Lyra wanting to explore her past and her power, while Gideon tried his best to keep her safe from the very things that had destroyed her family.