Once again, the avid readers were torn from the mythical world of Avalon—ripped from its grip like breath from lungs. The story had seized them wholly, refused to let go, and with every passing hour, it pulled them deeper into its tide. Every twist, every revelation struck like thunder. Now, with the fire casting flickering light across the room and pillows rumpled around them, they sat in stunned silence. None dared speak first.
Lily slowly closed the book, the soft thud of the worn cover seeming louder than it was. It rested now on her lap. Her fingers gently curled around its edges. Her gaze drifted over the boys—each one still caught in the story's aftermath. All except Severus, who wore a mask of calm, though even he couldn't quite hide the tension behind his eyes.
"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered, raking a hand through his black hair. "I haven't the faintest where to even start. Felt like being caught in a bloody avalanche—just tumbling through it all, no time to breathe, no time to think."
James leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Everything's boiled over now. Lamar. The Tower. Ariel. No more lies. Asriel's dragged the monster out of the shadows and into the light."
"Burgess…" Lupin growled, his knuckles whitening as his hands clenched. "What a vile, revolting bastard. He burned a city to ash. Men, women, children. Innocents. All for power. And when that wasn't enough, he killed more just to keep it."
He drove his fist into the floor. "And after the game was up—after he'd been exposed for what he truly is—did he go quietly? Did he surrender with so much as a shred of dignity? No. The man tried to wipe Caerleon off the map, like it was some bloody tit-for-tat! As if that somehow made it right!"
A low chuckle escaped Severus, sharp and cold. "How fitting. Art mirrors life more than we'd care to admit. Whether real or fiction, it's a reminder of the rot that festers in every corner of our world. Magical or Muggle—there's always someone chasing power, no matter the cost. Dark wizards of our age… they're no better. And Lamar Burgess? He's just another name to the list."
"Burgess is one thing," Peter said suddenly, drawing every gaze toward him. "But his lapdogs… Hartshorne, Astrea, every twisted bastard flying the Norsefire banner. They were worse in some ways. The wreckage they left behind in Caerleon..." His body trembled with restrained fury. "When Salazar cut them down, and Helga—when she tore that vile wench apart limb from limb—by Merlin, that was satisfying."
"Blimey, language, mate," Lupin snapped, brows raised.
"Oh, don't give me that," Peter retorted. "You all felt it too. She wasn't just cruel—she enjoyed it. Acted all high and righteous, like she was cleansing the world, and all the while, she was butchering people."
"I won't argue with you there, Pettigrew," Severus cut in. "There's no shortage of monsters out there who think themselves just. Who commit atrocities under the banner of conviction. Normally, I do not wish ill on others." He glanced at James, offering a wry smirk. "I make a few exceptions, of course."
James shot him a withering glare but said nothing.
"But as for Captain Astrea…" Severus leaned back slightly. "What became of her? That, I must admit, I savored."
A heavy silence followed—until Myrtle spoke. "But at what cost, though?" Her eyes remained fixed to the ground. "You heard what happened to Helga. It's torn her apart inside. She's not a killer. But they forced her hand. This war... it's making monsters of them all."
"Can you blame her, though?" Lily said, giving a small shrug. "Astrea butchered Pablo and Edda, nearly killed Elio too—and he's just a child. She made him an orphan. I can't even begin to imagine the life that awaits him now. A world without his parents."
A pause followed before Lupin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Speaking of Elio… that man at the end. The one who healed him." He glanced around. "What was his name again? Ludwig Van Hohenheim?"
Peter's eyes lit up. "Ooo, maybe he's someone famous from our world? You know, like Merlin or Nostradamus. Or Nicholas Flamel!"
"Now that you mention it…" Severus said slowly, eyes narrowing. "It does sound familiar. Something I might've read in passing. It's worth looking into."
"Well," Myrtle cut in with a mischievous grin, "dark and heavy topics aside, can we talk about something a little sweeter? Like Helena and Salazar."
Sirius barked a laugh. "Knew it! Called it ages ago!" He pointed a triumphant finger. "Told you that snake'd fall for that bird!"
"I called it first, mate," Peter chimed in proudly.
"Uh-ah, that was all me, mate," Sirius argued.
Lupin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Merlin's beard… only you two could sit through a tale filled with war, betrayal, and death and come out betting on who'd snog who."
"For what it's worth," Lily said gently, "I'm happy for them. Salazar always struck me as someone who struggles to say what he really feels. The way he speaks, the way he carries himself—it's all armor. Since the beginning, he's been learning to trust, and maybe now… he's learning to love."
"Sounds a lot like someone else we know," Myrtle teased, flashing Severus a grin.
"Not even in your most unhinged dreams, Warren," he snapped.
James let out a long yawn, glancing at the clock before his eyes widened. "Bloody hell, is that the time?"
"Time flies when you're wrapped up in drama and death, mate," Sirius said with a grin, elbowing him playfully. He yawned as well. "Still, you've got a point. Best we turn in."
"Especially since tomorrow's ours for the taking," Lupin added as he stood, stretching. "And that book's not going to finish itself. Let's see if we can wrap up the chapter by then."
"I, for one, can't wait to see how it ends," Peter piped up, grabbing the half-empty bag of crisps and rising to his feet.
Severus rolled his eyes as he stood. "All I care about is an uninterrupted night's sleep," he muttered, already heading for the bedroom. "And heaven help us if any of you snore."
"Oh, don't worry about the snoring," Peter called after him with a cheeky grin. "Sirius sleepwalks. Sometimes in the nude."
"Oi!" Sirius barked. "Don't go telling him that, you little rat!"
As the boys disappeared into their side of the room, Lily rose, tucking the book under her arm. She cast a glance over her shoulder. "You coming?"
"Right behind you," Myrtle replied, drifting after her. "Though I hope you haven't forgotten—I am a ghost. Ghosts don't exactly sleep."
Lily smirked. "Pity. I always thought you lot slept like the dead."
Myrtle groaned. "If I weren't already dead, my heart would have stopped from how terribly corny that was."
Lily laughed as the two of them disappeared into the bedroom.
Soon, the fire crackled to its final embers. The room fell silent, cloaked only in the soft moonlight pouring through the glass dome above, casting silvery shadows on the floor where the story had momentarily paused—but not yet ended.
****
The following morning, the unlikely band of friends slipped quietly out of the Room of Requirement, careful to avoid any prying eyes as they made their way to their dormitories. A quick wash and change were in order before breakfast in the Great Hall—and, more importantly, before diving back into the story that had gripped them all.
Soon after, Lily and the boys gathered at the Gryffindor table, tucking into a hearty breakfast of sausages, roast, warm bread and condiments. Peter, for his part, attacked his plate with the kind of urgency one might reserve for a duel—shoveling eggs and bacon into his mouth and nearly drowning himself in milk between bites. Lupin frowned and nudged him to slow down, though James and Sirius only laughed. They knew the feeling. With another chapter looming, the anticipation sat in their stomachs heavier than the food.
Across the hall, Severus remained at the Slytherin table. Despite the ever-present air of decorum he wore like a cloak, even he couldn't hide the tension in his shoulders, the occasional twitch in his fingers. Beneath the surface, he was just as eager.
Lily was the first to leave. She smoothed the front of her beige blouse, adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder—the familiar weight of the book pressing against her side—and offered the boys a quick nod before hurrying off.
From the teacher's table, Professor Dumbledore watched her go, his weathered blue eyes following her with quiet interest. A faint, knowing smile curled his lips.
Lily made her way up the stairs and down the quiet corridors. Most of the castle was empty—Hogsmeade weekend had lured the student body away with the promise of butterbeer, sweets, and idle laughter. In their absence, the halls felt hushed, almost sacred.
She turned into a corridor steeped in stillness. Dark wood paneled the walls, and polished black tiles stretched out beneath her feet. Display cases lined the passage, each one cradling relics from ages past—charms, parchments, and peculiar tools dulled by time. The atmosphere was thick with history.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
It reminded her of Excalibur.
Something in the air. In the way the castle stood with quiet dignity. Perhaps Hogwarts had borrowed more from the fabled school than anyone cared to admit. She had no doubt that the Four Founders, in all their wisdom, had taken the finest pieces of their past and built something better. Something lasting.
Something magic.
Suddenly, a hard shove sent Lily stumbling sideways. Her shoulder struck the wall with a dull thud, drawing a cry of pain from her lips. Before she could catch her breath, a shadow loomed over her—arms slammed against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in.
Platinum-blonde hair hung loose around a pale, furious face. Lucius Malfoy's steely grey eyes, usually frigid with disdain, now burned with unrestrained fury.
Lily flinched, clutching the strap of her bag as though it could shield her.
"Lucius!" she gasped. "What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
"There she is," he snarled. "The filthy little Mudblood." His voice dripped with venom, each word more hateful than the last. "Thought you could humiliate me and simply walk away, did you?" He grabbed a fistful of her blouse, yanking her forward. "Well, your luck's finally run out. No Dumbledore here to come charging to your rescue."
"Let go of me!" Lily shouted. "Let go, or I—"
Her words were cut off as Lucius clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling her scream.
"Or what?" he hissed. "Scream all you like. And who do you think they'll believe, hmm? You? A grubby little harlot always hanging off Potter and his gang? Or me—a Prefect, a Malfoy?"
He leaned closer, breath hot with malice.
"I don't even know what they see in you, Evans—"
Then he froze.
His eyes dropped to the satchel at her side. The flap had come loose in the scuffle. His gaze narrowed.
"What's this?" he muttered.
Before Lily could stop him, Lucius yanked the book from her bag, finally releasing her in the process.
"Give that back, it's mine!" she shouted, lunging for it, but he danced out of reach, flipping open the cover.
"Oh, I doubt this belongs to you," he said, a smirk creeping back onto his face. "Looks rather like it came from a part of the library students aren't meant to go poking about in. No doubt another one of Potter's harebrained schemes."
He turned to the front page—and stopped cold.
His eyes scanned the names, and the color visibly drained from his face.
"Godric Gryffindor… Salazar Slytherin…" he read aloud. "What in Merlin's bloody name is this?" His head snapped back up. "Excalibur Academy? Avalon? Evans, what is this?"
"Lucius, please…" Lily held her hands up. "Give it back. I'm asking you nicely. Do that, and I won't say a word about what just happened."
"Not until you tell me what this is!" Lucius snapped the book shut, brandishing it like a weapon. "Tell me now, Evans, before I—!"
He didn't finish.
His body jerked violently as his face contorted in pain, eyes bulging comically before his knees buckled inward. Lily's gaze dropped in time to see a boot squarely connect with his bollocks. The book slipped from his hands with a dull thud as he collapsed to the floor, groaning, clutching himself in agony.
Lily stared, wide-eyed, as another figure stepped into view—an older girl she didn't recognize.
She had long, thick auburn hair that tumbled in waves down to her waist, a Gryffindor uniform tailored sharp and crisp, a silver Prefect badge pinned proudly to her chest. But it wasn't the badge that caught Lily's attention.
It was the raven. A large, jet-black bird perched calmly on her shoulder, head tilted as if unimpressed.
"So," the girl drawled, hands on her hips, "picking on half-bloods ain't enough for you, huh? Gotta tack on assault, too?" She grinned. "Momma always did say you were a shit-stain, Malfoy. You and your whole Goddamned family. Honestly, great-great Pop-pop should've had you lot shot back in the Revolution."
Lucius groaned, trying to lift his head. "Lara, you little—"
"Careful, princess," she said sweetly, bending to his level. "You finish that sentence, I'll finish your jaw."
She turned to Lily and smirked, casually brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You alright there, hun?"
Lily blinked. "Yes," she managed. Then she quickly knelt, scooping the book up and slipping it back into her satchel. "Thank you."
"Pleasure's all mine," Lara replied with a tilt of her head, her fingers reaching up to her non-existent hat, only to realize it wasn't there.
Lily tilted her head. Brows furrowed with curiosity. "You're not… British, are you?"
"Once upon a time, I reckon," Lara said with a half-shrug. "Born here, yeah, but Mom and Pop moved to the States when I was still in nappies. Raised in the good ole U-S of A." She said it with unmistakable pride. "Figured I'd end up at Ilvermorny, but surprise surprise, Hogwarts came knockin'."
"But… why haven't I seen you around before?" Lily asked, eyeing the Prefect badge.
"Been on a transfer," Lara said, stretching her arms casually. "Exchange program Dumbledore cooked up. Spent a year at Ilvermorny then another at Uagadou. Just got back a few days ago." She clicked her tongue. "Shame it got the axe. Ministry pokin' their nose where it don't belong."
Lily's eyes flicked up to the raven still perched on her shoulder, its beady eyes fixed on her.
"This here's Allen," Lara said, noticing the look. "Don't mind him. He just likes to stare."
"Right…" Lily said, blinking again. "Well… thank you. Again."
Lara grinned. "Don't mention it. Always a pleasure kicking a Malfoy in the dang gonads. Gives the day a bit of sparkle, don't it?"
Lily's eyes darted to Lucius just as he drew his wand. The tip flared with a sickly light.
"Watch out!" she cried.
"Crucio!"
The spell burst from his wand—Lara pivoted, the blood red bolt missing her by inches. Her eyes flashed as she bared her teeth, then without hesitation, she drove her boot straight into Lucius's face.
There was a sickening crack. He toppled backward with a grunt, his wand slipping from his grasp and skittering across the floor. Blood poured from his nose, staining his lips and chin as he clutched his face.
"Y-you broke my nose!" he howled. "Blasted whore!"
Then it happened—something that made Lily's breath catch in her throat.
Lara raised her hand.
Allen took flight from her shoulder, feathers scattering in the air. In a burst of bright light, the raven vanished mid-air, replaced by something far more menacing. A gun—jet black, its frame sleek and etched with raven-wing filigree—dropped into her outstretched hand. She stepped forward and without pause, rammed the barrel into Lucius's open mouth.
He froze, eyes wide, the metal pressed against his teeth.
"I reckon even a stuck-up little pureblooded jackass like you knows exactly what this is," Lara said, her drawl low and venomous. Her thumb cocked the hammer. Lucius whimpered. "If you don't, I'll give you a hint: it's like the Killing Curse—only louder, smokier, and messier."
Lily stood frozen, unable to speak.
Lara leaned in closer, eyes blazing. "For what you tried to do to that girl just now? That cute little CruciatusCurse you fired off?" she said. "I ought to blow your Goddamned brains out and bury what's left in a pine box."
Lucius let out another trembling whimper.
"But lucky for you, I don't do well in tiny cells. Azkaban gives me hives."
She pulled the barrel back just enough for him to breathe, but her stare never softened.
"So, here's what's gonna happen," she said. "You're gonna crawl away, keep your mouth shut, and pray I never see you try that again. 'Cause if I do? I'll drag you out to the woods, put two in the back of your skull, and let Allen and his friends sort out what's left. Comprende amigo?"
Lucius gave a frantic nod. Lara lowered the weapon. Allen shimmered back into raven form and returned to her shoulder in a flutter of feathers. Lucius scrambled away, blood smeared across his hand and chin as he fumbled blindly for his wand.
With one hand still clutching his bloodied nose. He threw a final glare over his shoulder, eyes watering.
"My uncle will hear of this!" he spat—then promptly turned and bolted, his footsteps echoing frantically as he disappeared around the corner.
"Yeah, and maybe he can change your diaper while he's at it!" Lara hollered after him. "Thumb-suckin', bed-wettin', whiny little bitch." She shook her head with a scoff. "Goddamn Malfoys."
Lily stood rooted to the spot, heart hammering in her chest.
Lara turned and gave her a little shrug. "Boys like that? Only understand when you speak their language."
Lily stood in stunned silence, her thoughts reeling. A raven transformed into a weapon. Just like Bran and Rowena's ravens—Nevermore. A form of transfiguration kept secret within the Ravenclaw bloodline. She had read about it in the journal. But never, not once, had she imagined she'd witness it with her own eyes.
Lara tilted her head, one brow arched as a slow, teasing grin tugged at her lips. "Well, I appreciate the look, sugar, but I gotta tell you—my barn door don't swing that way."
Lily blinked, catching herself. "Oh! No, sorry—I didn't mean to stare. It's just…" Her gaze flicked to the raven perched nearby. "Your raven. That thing it did."
"Oh, that." Lara smirked, rubbing the back of her neck. "Family trick. From my daddy's side. He was Scottish—least, he used to be."
She stepped a little closer. "Um, I'd be mighty grateful if you kept that to yourself. I'm not exactly supposed to be doin' what I just did. If Pop ever found out…" She gave a mock shudder. "He'd tan my hide six ways from Sunday."
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," Lily said with a warm smile, offering her hand. "Lily Evans. Third year."
Lara took it and gave a firm shake. "Howdy. Pleasure's mine. Name's Lara—fourth year." She gave a wink. "Lara Ashford."
Lily froze.
The name struck her like a lightning bolt. Ashford. It was Professor Ryan's surname. The man in the book. Her mind reeled, stumbling over the coincidence. It had to be, didn't it? Just a coincidence. Ashford was probably common in the States. And yet… the way she spoke, that unshakable American pride, the fire in her—it all matched what she'd read in the journal. It matched him.
Lily hadn't let go of her hand.
Lara gave a sidelong glance to her raven, Allen, who looked down with half-lidded disinterest, utterly unimpressed with the tension in the air. Lara gently pulled her hand free.
"Well, reckon you're alright, so I'll get along now." She stepped back, then paused, flashing a grin over her shoulder. "And hey, if that cattle prod Lucius gives you trouble again, come find me. I'll give him another taste of Southern hospitality."
She gave a casual salute. "Be seein' you."
Then she turned and sauntered off.
"Er… yes. Be seeing you," Lily murmured, still dazed, giving a slight wave as Lara disappeared down the hall.
She stood in place for a long moment, hugging the satchel tightly to her chest. Her thoughts were spinning. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be that Ashford. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was at play. Shaking her head, Lily turned and made her way to the Room of Requirement, the weight of the journal heavier than ever.
****
The boys stared, jaws nearly to the floor as Lily recounted everything that had happened. At first, there was fury—outrage, threats of hexes, jinxes, and cricket bats. But all of that was swiftly forgotten the moment she mentioned the girl with the raven.
Even Myrtle, floating above her pillow, found herself uncharacteristically silent. They were all gathered by the fireplace, nestled among cushions and blankets. The soft, enchanted sunlight poured in from the glass dome overhead. The scent of pine, riverstone, and wild spring grass drifted through the windows, painting the room with the feel of a countryside morning, in contrast to the snow-covered lanscape out in the real world.
The boys lounged in their casual wear—jumpers, T-shirts, slacks, and jeans—each caught in various stages of disbelief.
"Wait, wait—hang on," Lupin said, blinking hard. "You're telling us the new Gryffindor Prefect magically transformed her raven into a gun?"
"It's called transfigurating, mate," Peter mumbled through a mouthful of crisps.
Lupin gave him a pointed glare. "I know what it's called, Wormy. That's not the part I'm stuck on."
Sirius folded his arms. "American, was she? I swear I remember someone like that back in first year. Bit of a wild card. Probably explains the whole transfer program thing—Dumbledore's mad little experiment, wasn't it?"
"And you said her name was Ashford?" James chimed in, swirling butterbeer in his mug. "Same as the Ashford in the journal?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Potter, are you so obsessed with that book you've lost all sense of reality? Ashford's not exactly a rare surname. You'd have us believe every Ashford across the globe is related?"
James scowled. "That's not what I'm saying. But come on, Snape—too much lines up. Her accent. Her attitude. Her raven. That weapon transformation? It's the same spell the Ravenclaws use. She told Lily her father was Scottish. So were Bran and Rowena."
Severus folded his arms. "So, you're insinuating she's descended from one of the Four Founders now?"
"Why not?" Sirius interjected. "All the signs are there."
"I've done my homework, Black. There's no record of any such spell called Nevermore tied to Ravenclaw in the official histories," Severus said coolly. "If it existed, it would have been mentioned."
"But the journal's full of things the histories don't mention," Myrtle chimed in, her ghostly brow raised. "Isn't that the point?"
Sirius nodded. "Exactly. And look at how it's playing out—it's hitting all the flags."
Severus fell silent for a beat, his eyes narrowing in thought. "For argument's sake... suppose she is related to Professor Ashford. Judging by the time period described, he's from an age far beyond ours. That would make her either a distant relative—or…"
"His mother," Lily finished, eyes wide. "The same one he spoke about. The one who…"
Severus held up a hand. "If that's true—and that's a monumental if—then we're dabbling in forces far beyond our comprehension. We may be witnessing events that alter both the past and the future. I dread to think what damage we could do with a single misstep. We could collapse the entire timeline. Undo our own existence."
He exhaled slowly. "Of course, it's all mere speculation."
"Argh!" Peter groaned, tossing his crisps aside. "Enough with all the timey-wimey nonsense! My brain's melting! I just want to know what happens next!"
"As expected of Pettigrew," Lupin muttered, rubbing his temple.
"Honestly, I'd have paid every last Galleon I own to watch little Malfoy wet himself in front of a girl," Sirius grinned, eyes gleaming. "Merlin's beard, just thinking about it makes me feel positively giddy."
"You're insufferable, Black," Severus muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Knowing Lucius, he's probably already sent word to his dearly beloved uncle—no doubt demanding he storm the castle and soothe his bruised ego."
"Bah, let him," Sirius scoffed. "The Malfoys are no different from the rest of their pompous lot. All cloaks and titles, thinking themselves above the rest of us. But when push comes to shove, they're cowards through and through—plenty of bark, not a shred of bite."
"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss them," Severus replied coolly. "For all their vanity and pure-blood posturing, their name still carries weight. Influence. Favors owed in all the right places. Much as it pains me to admit it, people like the Malfoys rarely fall without dragging others down with them."
"Sounds a bit like Burgess and his cronies, doesn't it?" Myrtle murmured, drifting lazily above the group.
"Well, speaking of that wretched bastard," James interjected, leaning forward, "why don't we pick up where we left off? I want to see how it all ends."
Lily gave a small nod and opened the book once more, its spine creaking softly as the pages unfurled. The light from the dome above caught the edge of the parchment as they all leaned in, once again letting themselves be drawn into the world of Avalon.