Narcissa drew a quiet breath before closing the leather-bound book with a soft thud. "Well," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips, "I suppose that's quite enough excitement for one night, wouldn't you agree?"
"What?" Remus threw up his hands, eyes wide. "You can't possibly leave us hanging after that!" He turned sharply to the boy beside him. "Prongs, surely you agree with me."
Sirius smothered a laugh, nudging James with his elbow. James gave a low chuckle and pushed him away. "Sorry, mate. I'm with Narcissa on this one." He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "It's late, and as much as I'd like to stay, I'm completely done in. I think we all are."
"Quite right," Severus murmured, exhaling as his shoulders slumped. He stretched until his spine gave a quiet pop. "Hours spent sitting on the floor do take their toll."
"Growing old, are we, Snape?" Sirius asked with a crooked grin.
"Like fine wine, Black," Severus returned smoothly.
Lily groaned, rising to her feet. "That's enough, both of you. Honestly, it's like dealing with children."
Narcissa smirked, shooting Sirius a knowing look that earned her a scowl. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Evans." She handed the book to Lily, who tucked it neatly into her satchel. "I daresay most of my family feels the same about my dear cousin."
"Harpy," Sirius muttered under his breath.
Severus rose, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "In all honesty," he said mildly, "I find that rather difficult to dispute."
Laughter rippled through the group, light and easy as they all gathered their things and rose to their feet.
"Bother… looks like we'll have to wait until tomorrow night to find out what all the hullabaloo's about," Myrtle said, stretching her arms above her head. "Still, it does feel like the makings of yet another proper adventure."
Before anyone could reply, Peter suddenly snapped his fingers.
"You know," he said, eyes widening as he looked around at his friends, "something's just popped into my head. Christmas is coming up. We'll all be heading home for the holidays."
"Quite right," Remus said, folding his arms and giving him a puzzled stare. "And your point?"
"Well…" Peter hesitated, then gestured toward Lily's satchel. "Who exactly is going to be holding onto that book?"
Every pair of eyes went wide. Silence fell across the group like a dropped curtain.
"Bugger," Sirius muttered, exchanging a look with James. "Never actually thought about that, did we? I mean, Lily's been the one keeping it safe so far, but we can't very well leave that thing lying around here."
"Well, I could take it home with me," Lily offered, tapping the satchel gently.
Severus crossed his arms, tilting his head with a faint arch of an eyebrow. "And pray tell, Evans, how do you intend to slip that monstrosity out past the professors?" he asked. "Your trunk is already packed to bursting with supplies. I doubt you could smuggle that tome past a particularly dim Kneazle."
James stifled a laugh. Sirius didn't bother. Remus rolled his eyes. Lily shot Severus a look caught somewhere between irritation and reluctant agreement.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "For Merlin's sake." She shook her head slowly, as though genuinely pained. "Are the lot of you as daft as you look?"
Everyone turned toward her. Some annoyed, some glaring, others simply bewildered.
"Have you all forgotten that you're witches and wizards?" Narcissa continued, gesturing broadly. "That we possess this remarkable thing called magic?"
A collective wave of realization rippled through the group. They nodded, muttered ohs, and even smacked their own foreheads.
"In all honesty," Narcissa said, flicking a glance at Lily, "you lot desperately need to stop thinking like Muggles. No offence."
"None taken," Lily replied with a small shrug. "I suppose we could just use Reducto, shrink the book down, slip it into a pocket, and walk out."
"Well, that's assuming the blasted thing isn't enchanted to prevent anyone carrying it off the grounds," Remus said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Last thing we need is the castle lighting up like a Christmas tree and writing our names across the walls like wanted criminals."
Severus exhaled, unimpressed. "Lupin, your imagination never ceases to astound me."
Remus shot him a proud grin. "Why thank you, Snape"
"That was not a compliment."
Sirius snorted, and James pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh. Lily only shook her head at them all, half-exasperated, half-amused.
"Well, I say we take the book on a little trip to Hogsmeade," Peter announced, clapping his hands together. "If it doesn't explode and turn us into strips of confetti when we get there, then it's safe to assume Lily can take it home without losing any limbs."
"An exceptional idea," Remus said, gesturing approvingly with a finger. "Seems you do have flashes of brilliance when you try, Pettigrew."
Peter beamed, only for his expression to falter. "Wait… hold on a bloody minute. What's that supposed to mean?"
"Anyway," Severus cut across smoothly, "as much as I would love to remain here and be subjected to the ever-growing catalogue of your collective idiocy, I am, regrettably, quite exhausted." He straightened his robes with brisk precision and started for the door. "We can continue our… experiments another day."
Sirius yawned loudly, stretching his arms behind his head until his neck cracked. "No arguments from me. I'm knackered." He strolled after Severus.
The boys exchanged nods with the girls, the unspoken agreement that the night had reached its end passing between them. Myrtle gave a cheerful wave before drifting downward, her form melting through the floorboards.
One by one, the group filed toward the exit. The fireplace dimmed behind them, embers fading to a soft glow. The enchanted ceiling overhead bathed the Room of Requirement in pale faux moonlight and scattered starlight, leaving their retreating silhouettes drifting through shadow.
It felt, somehow, like the closing of a chapter. Quiet, lingering, and full of everything yet to unfold.
****
James was jostled awake the next morning by the merry, downright shrill excitement of Peter, who was practically prancing about the dormitory like a child on Christmas morning. James's vision swam for a moment before the familiar velvet-red drapes of his four-poster bed came into focus. The air felt noticeably colder than the night before, despite the hearth in the dorm room still crackling away.
"Wake up! Wake up! It's snowing!" Peter cried, bouncing on the spot.
Sirius blinked groggily, pushing back his wild curtain of black hair as he straightened his silk pajamas. "I'm up, I'm up," he muttered. "Bloody hell, what time is it?"
Remus was already at the window, his breath fogging the frosted panes. Through the ironwork, the world beyond had transformed into a pristine sheet of white. Snow blanketed the grounds as far as the eye could see. "All I can see is snow for miles," he said, leaning closer. "The lake's frozen solid."
James swung his legs off the bed, and yelped the moment his bare feet hit the icy stone floor. "Merlin's beard, that's freezing!" He hopped backward, grabbed his slippers, and stuffed his feet into them with haste. Rubbing his arms, he glanced toward the window. "How on earth did we wake up in the middle of a blizzard?"
"Well, the weather's been unpredictable for months," Sirius said, padding over to peer outside. "Let's just hope we're not snowed in until spring."
"Honestly, I don't really mind," Peter said cheerfully. "Spending Christmas with you lot, and that book? Sounds brilliant to me."
Sirius let out a soft laugh. "That, at least, we can agree on." His expression gentled, a faint smile forming. "It certainly beats going home. Spending even a second with my family churns my insides like butter."
James and Remus exchanged a quiet, knowing glance.
"Paddy," James said gently, placing a steady hand on Sirius's shoulder, "you know you're always welcome at mine. Mum and Dad would be thrilled to have you. It's only the three of us as it is."
Sirius managed a small, pained smile. "I might take you up on that one day, mate," he said softly. "Truly." He let out a breath. "But it stings a bit less if I just grit my teeth and get on with it. It's only for the holidays."
He gave a helpless shrug. "Just not keen on sitting through another year of uncles and aunts boasting about how many muggles they've made miserable. They treat it like some sort of bloody competition."
"Good grief, your family has issues," Remus said, folding his arms.
Sirius barked out a short laugh. "Understatement of the century, that."
Peter suddenly pointed upwards. "Er, speaking of issues… is that clock running fast or is it just me? Because it looks rather like we're—"
The boys all turned, eyes landing on the wall-clock above the hearth.
Their faces drained of color in perfect synchrony.
"LATE!" they shouted together.
****
The day slipped past in a haze of lessons, parchment, and hurried notes. A blur made all the softer by winter's early dusk. With the sun retreating far too early, Hogwarts shifted into its colder season self: corridors lit by torches casting long amber shadows, candles flickering against ancient stone, and hearths roaring to keep the chill at bay.
Even so, students clung to their winter robes, scarves wrapped tightly around their necks as they filed into the Great Hall for supper. The air was warm and fragrant. Roast meats, fresh bread, buttered rice, and steaming porridge filling the space with the comforting promise of a proper winter meal.
"And once again," Remus said with a scowl, pointing his spoon at Peter. Bits of mashed potato still clinging to it. "My thanks for the hour-long lecture we received from Professor McGonagall for being late."
Peter blinked at him indignantly. "For the millionth time, I said I was sorry." He stabbed a piece of roast beef and shoved it into his mouth. "How was I supposed to know my clock had stopped working?"
"Lay off, Moony," James said, lifting his goblet for a drink. "All our clocks were frozen stiff. Frankly, I'm impressed we woke up at all."
Sirius snorted into his plate. "Speak for yourselves. I nearly slept straight through Transfiguration. McGonagall would've turned me into a flamingo just to make a point."
Remus shot him a look. "With how you strut about half the time, she wouldn't have needed to change much."
Sirius near choked as James clapped him firmly on the back. Peter stifled a laugh, nearly dropping his spoon as he started into his bowl of porridge.
Then James's expression shifted. He nodded discreetly toward the Slytherin table.
"Oi, don't look now," he murmured, nudging Sirius with his elbow. "There goes tall, blond, and perpetually miserable."
Lucius was making his way down the length of the table. Though making his way was generous. The usual aristocratic strut was gone. His shoulders sagged, and he moved with the deliberate caution of someone trying very hard not to be noticed.
"Is it just me," Remus muttered, raising a brow, "or does he look… distinctly off?"
Sirius leaned in, narrowing his eyes. "I heard he and his uncle got absolutely eviscerated by Dumbledore over what happened with Lily." A wicked smirk crept across his face. "Apparently they picked a fight with someone famous. Someone big from across the Atlantic. Word is, Dumbledore's slapped him with a temporary suspension from his Prefect duties. And on top of that, he's been told, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from Lily and every other muggle-born… or risk getting his arse tossed clean out of Hogwarts."
As if summoned by the mention of his misery, Lucius glanced toward the Gryffindor table. His eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits, lip curling in a silent snarl. But his glare wasn't aimed at the boys.
Four heads turned to follow the direction of his stare.
A girl sat a few seats down, a raven perched with regal ease on her shoulder. She caught Lucius watching, smirked, and blew him a theatrical, mocking kiss. Lucius scoffed sharply, spun on his heel, and stalked off. With all the stiff dignity of someone desperately trying not to limp.
"Bloody hell… that must be her. Lara Ashford," Remus murmured.
Sirius's expression sobered as he lowered his fork. "You won't believe this, but I looked into the Ashfords." He scooped up a forkful of risotto, took a bite, swallowed, and then continued. "They're big. Properly big back in the States. Think Blacks, Malfoys, Gaunts… that level."
The rest of them leaned in, the chatter of the Hall fading beneath their curiosity.
"Her family's one of the original twelve pure-blood lines in America," Sirius said, gesturing with his fork for emphasis. "Their ancestry goes back to the founding of the country itself. They've got relatives in every corner of the wizarding world, especially in MACUSA."
He paused for dramatic effect. "And that someone big? Her name's Annabelle Calhoun, the Southern Rose of Louisiana."
Three jaws dropped in unison.
"Hold on, the Annabelle Calhoun?" Remus whispered, eyes wide. "Merlin's sake, she's in the Prophet every month. She's almost as famous as Dumbledore!"
"And for good reason," James said. "She's one of most decorated scholars in the arcane studies. Not to mention, she's one hell of a duelist. World champion seven times in a row. Ilvermorny's got an entire monument dedicated to her." He hesitated, then jabbed a thumb towards Lara. "Wait, you're telling me she's related to her?"
"Her godmother, apparently," Sirius said. "Funny thing is, my uncles have been trying to get her attention for years. If the Blacks could tie the knot with a Calhoun, they'd never shut up about it."
He stabbed at his food with renewed irritation. "But as it turns out, those Yanks loathe us, passionately." Sirius paused, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well… perhaps not quite as much as they loathe the Malfoys, but still, it does rather say something, doesn't it?"
James barked a laugh. Remus shook his head. Peter looked like his mind was being rewired. And down the table, Lara lifted a grape to her lips and fed it to the raven on her shoulder, not even glancing their way.
"Hang on," Remus said, raising an eyebrow. "Why on earth would there be bad blood between the Malfoys and the Calhouns?" He lifted a hand vaguely. "Well… aside from the obvious."
Sirius glanced around. "Word has it Annabelle and Cassius, Lucius's charming uncle, were once engaged."
James nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. He coughed violently, pounding his chest. "Blimey, mate. Are you serious?"
Sirius nodded. "From what I've heard, neither the Malfoys nor the Calhouns ever particularly liked one another, but they tolerated it well enough." He tapped his fork absently against his plate. "Then, the whole arrangement fell apart completely. And if rumors are to be believed, it ended… rather badly. Properly messy."
Remus tilted his head. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. If it was arranged—"
"Actually, it wasn't," Sirius cut in, drawing immediate attention from all three boys. "Wasn't arranged at all. They were in love. Like wholeheartedly in love."
A brief silence settled as that sank in.
Sirius let his gaze drop toward his plate. "I don't know what happened between them to drive them apart, but… bloody hell. Whatever it was, it must've been catastrophic."
For a long moment, none of them spoke. The only sound was the distant clatter of cutlery elsewhere in the Hall. Then, at last, Peter cleared his throat.
"Anyways, serves the wanker right," Peter muttered, flicking a bit of porridge in Lucius's direction. "My only regret is that we didn't ambush him with cricket bats like we planned."
"Well," Sirius said with a wicked grin, "it's not too late."
"For heaven's sake," Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would very much like to have a school to return to after the holidays, if it's all the same to you."
The boys shared a round of laughter, the sound rolling easily between them. Further down the table, Lily glanced over, catching sight of their antics, and a knowing smile curved her lips. Across the hall, at the Slytherin table, Narcissa observed the scene with quiet amusement, a delicate simper forming as she lifted her goblet and took an unhurried sip.
****
As the clock chimed eight, students began drifting from the Great Hall toward their dormitories. Some to finish homework, some to read by candlelight, and others to get up to the kind of mischief only children their age could devise. Narcissa slipped through the corridors at an unhurried pace. The halls glowed in the warm amber of torchlight, shadows stretching long across the ancient stone. The polished armor lining the walls caught the light in faint glimmers, as if saluting her as she passed.
It had been only a day since they'd begun reading the book, and yet Narcissa felt utterly enthralled. The idea that the founders of Hogwarts had lived lives so extraordinary they shattered everything she'd ever believed about them. It lingered in her thoughts like perfume.
She marveled at the notion that such a story had been hidden from the world. That there existed a realm, Avalon, where magic truly began, filled with inventions and wonders far beyond anything wizards had dreamt of. And the founders themselves… far more human, more flawed, more brilliant than the dusty saints painted by history.
Most of all, her thoughts circled back. Inevitably, to Salazar Slytherin. Charming. Mysterious. Ruthless, yet capable of love with a depth she could scarcely fathom. Narcissa found herself smiling. She would, without any hesitation, fall headlong for a boy like that if he'd ever tried to court her. Her steps slowed as she approached a particularly dark stretch of corridor. Something prickled at the back of her mind. She stopped.
Without turning fully, she glanced over her shoulder, sapphire eyes narrowing.
"I know you're there, Lucius. You've always been atrocious at sneaking. Hardly surprising. No shadow in this castle is large enough to hide the size of your head."
Lucius stepped from the darkness, the shadows sliding off him like a discarded cloak. His expression twisted into simmering fury.
Narcissa turned to face him properly, her stance cool, unbothered.
"And before you entertain any of those relatively cute ideas rattling around in that skull of yours," she said lightly, "I'd advise you to reconsider."
A soft, dangerous smirk curled her lips.
"Unlike Evans, I bite. Hard. And your privilege won't save you. Not from me."
Lucius let a heavy stillness settle between them before he finally spoke, his breath sharp. "You know, when our families announced our betrothal, I expected my would-be wife. The future dame of my house, to show a touch more… loyalty."
Narcissa gave a soft, incredulous laugh, more amused than offended. "Loyal… to you?" Her eyes cooled, the humor fading. "I am a person, Lucius. Not a pet. I'd advise you to remember that."
He stepped closer, but she didn't flinch.
"And furthermore," she continued, "I rather expected my future husband. The man destined to sire my child, not to be a gutless coward who's grown comfortable laying his hands on women." She raised a finger, almost lazily. "Especially muggle-borns."
Lucius bared his teeth, fury twisting his features. "You hypocritical little—" He stopped himself, exhaling through clenched teeth. "What's your game, Narcissa? We both know you've no love for mudbloods. You enjoy watching them grovel. Just like your family does."
"Ah," Narcissa cut in smoothly. "Our families. Do not delude yourself into thinking yours stands any higher." She tilted her head, expression frostbitten. "And you're correct. I couldn't care less for the half-blooded rabble."
Her gaze sharpened to a knife's point. "What I do care about is a fellow pure-blood behaving in public like a rat rooting through the refuse. You forget, Lucius. Your actions reflect on me every bit as much as they reflect on you."
The corridor remained silent for a moment. Torchlight flickering across two faces equally cold, but only one truly in control. Narcissa's gaze drifted to Lucius's chest, to the empty space above the Slytherin insignia where his prefect badge had once gleamed. She allowed herself a delicate simper.
"And it seems Professor Dumbledore has finally introduced you to something you've had precious little experience with since childhood… consequence."
Lucius's response was near a growl. "A minor setback," he snapped. His eyes narrowed. "And don't feign innocence. This was as much your doing as that Evans wench's."
"Temper, temper, my dear Lucius," Narcissa chided lightly, clicking her tongue. "None of this would have occurred had you learnt to keep your hands to yourself." Her voice cooled further. "Consider it a worthwhile lesson. Not everything can be fixed by throwing a tantrum and running to your dear uncle like a spoilt child."
Lucius's face twisted with fury, though he forced it down again, jaw clenched.
"Mark my words, Narcissa," he hissed. "There will come a day when the rabble are put back in their place. When Hogwarts is cleansed of half-blood filth, and the wizarding world reclaims the truth. That magic belongs solely to the anointed and the deserving. Just as Salazar Slytherin intended."
He moved to stride past her, robe snapping behind him.
"Well, it's painfully clear you never knew him at all," Narcissa said calmly.
Lucius halted mid-step.
She looked over her shoulder. "And for your sake, dear Lucius… I hope you never compare yourself to him again. He's a man you could scarcely hope to approach, let alone emulate."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and continued down the corridor, her footsteps measured and unhurried. Lucius stared after her, an eyebrow lifting, confusion threading through his scowl. As though, for the first time in his life, someone had spoken of Salazar Slytherin in a way that did not bend to his prejudices.
****
The Room of Requirement had reshaped itself for the season with an enthusiasm bordering on theatrical. Garlands of holly draped the walls, tinsel shimmered from every arch, and long crimson sashes swept overhead like festive banners. In the center of the chamber stood a towering Christmas tree, its top brushing the glass-domed ceiling where snow drifted softly across the enchanted sky beyond. The air held the warm scent of crackling firewood and rich hot chocolate, wrapping the room in a cozy, early-yuletide charm.
Peter, already stationed by the snack table, was midway through demolishing his third cinnamon roll. The others had settled by the hearth, Sirius reclining across a rug with James and Remus in their usual cluster of half-serious chatter. Lily and Myrtle sat nearby on a cushioned bench, giggling over something scribbled on a spare bit of parchment.
Severus, however, had withdrawn into a corner of the fire's glow. He was perched on a low ottoman, entirely absorbed in a battered book he'd brought with him. The black jumper he wore hung loose on his frame. Clearly a hand-me-down. Its sleeves patched with hasty stitching. A Slytherin scarf was looped tightly around his neck, and the flickering firelight caught in his dark hair, lending it an even slicker sheen.
Sirius caught sight of him, and a slow smirk spread across his face.
"What's got your attention, Severus?" he called. "A bit of light reading? Merlin forbid it's a guide on how to blend in with polite company."
Without looking up, Severus turned a page.
"I'd wager you're in far greater need of such literature than me, Black," he said evenly. "Without Potter and the rest of this motley collection propping you up, you'd be catastrophically friendless."
Remus pressed his lips together, shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh. Sirius spluttered.
"I'll have you know," Sirius declared, gesturing grandly at the room, "I have plenty of friends outside of… this."
Severus finally looked up, his expression flat as slate.
"Your cousins do not count," he replied. "And neither do your dolls."
Sirius' face twisted in outrage. "Hey! They're action figures."
"Tickle Me Niffler," Severus said, deadpan, "is not an action figure."
That did it. James barked a laugh, Remus doubled over, and Lily nearly dropped her mug of hot chocolate as she dissolved into giggles.
Sirius stared, horrified. "Wait, how did you even—?"
Myrtle raised a hand, waving innocently as she drifted closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sirius jabbed an accusing finger at her. "Traitor!"
Myrtle let out a peal of laughter that echoed off the holly-trimmed walls.
Severus drew a long, steady breath and closed the book with a definitive thud, the sound echoing faintly against the festive decorations. "If you must know," he began, adjusting his scarf, "I've been doing a bit of digging into the name Peverell. And it appears I've stumbled across something rather fascinating."
Lily leaned forward, one brow lifting. "Oh?" she asked. "What did you find?"
Severus tapped the cover of the book. "Only that it ties directly to the Tale of the Three Brothers," he said, pausing for effect. "More precisely to Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. The supposed creators of the Deathly Hallows."
"The Deathly… what?" Remus asked, brow furrowing as he scratched at his hair.
Severus gave him a slow, disappointed stare. "Oh, Lupin. How magnificently you disappoint me. I'd expect this sort of ignorance from Pettigrew, not you."
"I heard that!" Peter shouted through a mouthful of cinnamon roll from across the room.
Ignoring him, Severus pressed on. "Legend claims the Deathly Hallows were three immensely powerful magical artefacts gifted by Death himself to the Peverell brothers." He raised three fingers. "The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility."
James stiffened at the final mention. Only the slightest narrowing of his eyes, but Severus caught it at once.
"Oh?" Severus asked. "Something the matter, Potter?"
James cleared his throat, trying his best to look nonchalant. "Nothing," he said quickly. "Just… intrigued, that's all."
"Wait, so what you're saying is that the Peverells are an actual pure-blood wizarding family in our world?" Myrtle asked, drifting a little closer, her expression unusually earnest.
"Were," Severus corrected, his tone sharp but measured. "Their line died out centuries ago. They existed around the time of the Founders but eventually slipped into obscurity." He tapped the leather-bound cover with a long finger. "Allegedly, the Gaunts claimed descent from Cadmus Peverell, though I've yet to find anything remotely solid to prove it. Mostly rumors and braggarts' whispers."
"And the Gaunts are gone as well," Sirius said, folding his arms in thought. "So that raises the question, where does Mycellus fit into any of this?"
"An ancestor, perhaps?" Remus suggested, tilting his head. "Or someone higher up the line. Would make perfect sense if the Peverells originally came from Avalon."
"Honestly," Lily cut in, gesturing broadly, "am I the only one seeing the obvious connection here?"
Everyone turned toward her.
"Mycellus Peverell turns up in the journal," she said slowly, as if guiding a group of particularly wayward children. "And the Peverell brothers are recorded in our history. Which means—?"
James' eyes widened as the realization struck. "There's a direct correlation between our world and Avalon." A grin spread across his face. "That means—"
"Ah! No. No, absolutely not." Remus jabbed a finger in the air before James could get another word out. "We are not jumping to conclusions. Not yet. Coincidence. Pure coincidence. Entirely plausible. Perfectly reasonable."
Sirius blinked at him. "That's a lot of denial for someone who clearly knows what James is about to say."
Remus refused to look at any of them. "Because I'd rather not spend the rest of the holidays listening to Potter theorise himself into a frenzy."
James grinned wider. "Too late for that, mate."
"I suppose," Severus began, lifting his head from the book, "there's one final piece of the puzzle to add to our little hypothesis." His dark gaze shifted toward Myrtle. "Any luck persuading the Grey Lady to grace us with her presence?"
Myrtle froze mid-drift, her expression flickering between discomfort and guilt. "I… mentioned it," she admitted quietly. "She wasn't exactly thrilled that I did." A pause, soft and uncertain. "But the way she reacted when I told her about the journal. Well, it's clear she knows something."
"Well," Severus said, "until Helena Ravenclaw herself chooses to share whatever truth she's hoarding, we are left only with conjecture and fragments." He glanced toward Remus with a pointed look. "Which means, at present, our theory remains nothing more than an amusing fiction."
"Thank you!" Remus cried, throwing his hands up. "Finally, someone else clinging to sanity while the rest of you teeter over the edge."
Before anyone could retort, Peter arrived, balancing a plate stacked with cinnamon rolls in a tower that defied physics. He was halfway through one already, crumbs peppering his jumper.
"Is it just me," he said through a mouthful, "or is our newest member running a bit late? Hope nothing's happened to her."
"If it has, it'll be a blessing in disguise," Sirius muttered with a wicked smirk.
"Sirius!" Lily snapped, aghast. "What a horrid thing to say. She's still your cousin."
"With respect, Lily," Sirius said, his scowl deepening, "you've not had the misfortune of growing up around her. If you had, you'd very likely be cursing her name alongside me."
James chuckled under his breath. Remus winced. Myrtle drifted back a little as though anticipating incoming fireworks.
"Honestly," Sirius went on, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "she turns every room she walks into into a battlefield. And that's on a good day."
Severus exhaled, lifting one shoulder in a measured shrug. "For once, I'm forced to concur." His obsidian eyes shifted to Lily. "A word of caution, Evans. Narcissa is rarely what she presents. Whatever charm she wraps herself in, she is, at her core, a Black. And like all purebloods, Blacks are notorious for caring for no one but themselves." He flicked a sideways glance at Sirius. "No offence."
"Can't be offended by the truth, mate," Sirius muttered.
Before Lily could respond, the door eased inward with a soft creak. The rhythm of heeled shoes tapped across the polished floor, crisp and unmistakably confident. Narcissa swept into the Room of Requirement with the poise of someone entering a ballroom rather than a private gathering.
She wore a fitted black turtleneck beneath a tailored grey waistcoat, the ensemble matched by a sleek skirt that swayed with her steps. Her near-white hair flowed over her shoulders in a silvery cascade, tied neatly into a ponytail that caught the firelight. Her gaze drifted across the group, sharp, amused, and entirely self-assured.
"And speak of the devil," Sirius muttered under his breath, glowering at her. "Suppose someone ought to ring for an exorcist."
A faint smile touched Narcissa's lips, the kind that suggested she had heard him perfectly, and found it beneath her notice. She glided toward them without breaking stride, radiating an effortless confidence that made the boys sit up a little straighter despite themselves.
"Apologies for my tardiness." Narcissa crossed the room with unhurried grace, the faint click of her heels punctuating each step. She reached the bench where Lily sat and settled beside her with effortless poise. "I found myself in a rather spirited quarrel with my wardrobe."
"Bloody hell, woman," Sirius muttered, glaring. "We're here for a story, not a date." His glare twisted into a smirk. "Besides, no amount of fancy clothes or make-up could turn that mug into something remotely likable."
Lily's eyes widened in horror, and so did Myrtle's. James and Remus turned to Sirius with identical looks that very plainly said you absolute idiot. Even Peter paused mid-chew. Severus, however, allowed a slow, delighted grin to curl at the corner of his mouth.
Narcissa did not react. Not a twitch. Not a blink.
"Oh, Sirius," she sighed, brushing a hand down her skirt as if dusting off his words. "Ever the child. Forever reaching for petty insults when you can't reach anything higher." Her eyes glinted. "Envy looks dreadful on you, by the way."
Sirius scoffed. "Envy? Why in Merlin's name would I ever be envious of you?"
"For starters," Narcissa replied lightly, inspecting her nails as if discussing the weather, "my parents actually love me for who I am. Not for what I might someday provide." She tilted her head and gave him the faintest, wounding smirk. "Such a tragic contrast, really."
Sirius went rigid, fury tightening every line of his face. He surged halfway to his feet. Only for Remus and James to yank him back down by his sleeves before he could launch himself across the floor.
"See!" Sirius snarled through gritted teeth, struggling against their grip. "What did I bloody tell you?!"
"Enough!" Lily's voice cracked through the room like a whip. She shot to her feet, red hair sparking in the firelight. "Honestly, by God, you lot are positively insufferable!"
All eyes swung to her.
"We're here for one reason, and one reason alone," she continued, jabbing a finger at the lot of them. "And if none of you can manage to set aside your ridiculous grudges for five minutes, then kindly leave and spare the rest of us the headache!"
"But she—" Sirius began, indignant.
"No buts, Sirius!" Lily snapped, turning the full force of her glare on him. "You started it, and we all saw you do it. Either sit down and behave like a civilized human being, or go sulk in your dormitory."
Sirius looked to his friends for backup. James, Remus, even Peter, but each of them met him with identical, unimpressed stares. He let out a sharp, wounded huff, arms folded in a dramatic pout, very much the picture of an overgrown toddler forced into a timeout. His glare, however, remained firmly locked on Narcissa.
His cousin replied with a serene, unbothered blink, as if she'd just won a game she hadn't even needed to play.
"Good." Lily sat back down with a decisive huff, reaching for the satchel at her side. She drew out the thick, leather-bound tome, its spine creaking softly in the warm firelight. "Since I've been the one doing most of the reading, I thought it was time for a change."
She turned and placed the book squarely into Narcissa's hands.
Narcissa blinked, momentarily stunned. "Y–you want me?"
The boys froze mid-breath.
"You want her?" they echoed in perfect, horrified unison.
Lily flushed a little, but held firm. "You read the last entry beautifully, actually. And I thought we could use a change of pace." She shot the boys a warning glare. "Don't you?"
Every hand shot up at once. Except Sirius', who sank deeper into his sulk, arms locked in defiant protest.
"In all honesty, I find myself agreeing with Lily," Myrtle said, tilting her head with a thoughtful little nod. "A change of pace might do us all some good."
Narcissa arched a brow, the faintest ghost of triumph tugging at her mouth. "Well… if you insist."
She accepted the tome properly, settling its weight across her lap. For a moment she only looked at it. The worn leather, the gilded edges, the history humming beneath her fingertips. Then she opened to their marked page, drew in a steady breath, and lifted her voice. At once, the firelight seemed to shift, the room leaning in as she carried them all back.
Back to the storm and splendor of Avalon.