The next day, I went to the Hogwarts garden, a green area protected by greenhouses with the scent of damp earth and magical sprouts.
I walked between the rows, following the illustrations in the book. Some roots were common... but others, such as the moon cardamom or the night henna flower, only grew with certain spells.
I knelt down to examine a strange plant with petals that changed color when a voice startled me.
"Looking for something in particular?"
I turned around. It was Professor Sprout. Her robe was stained with dirt, and she was wearing a pair of leather gloves.
"Yes, Professor," I replied, standing up. I'm trying to make a memory potion... It's not for homework. It's to help a friend.
The professor looked at me curiously. She didn't seem upset... more intrigued.
"A potion like that isn't easy for someone in your class, you know?"
I nodded. "I know. But I'm willing to learn whatever it takes."
Sprout smiled with that warm glow that people who understand compassion without needing many words have.
"Very well, Mr. Dion. If you're determined... I'll teach you what you need to know. But you'll have to come every week. Some of these plants require daily care. Agreed?"
"Yes, Professor. Thank you... Really."
I felt less alone.
And just when I thought I couldn't go on any longer, a new letter arrived.
The owl landed on my windowsill at dawn, carrying a note sealed with Alphonse's red wax seal. My heart was pounding as I broke the seal.
____________________________________________________________
Dion...
It has taken me much longer than expected. This language is not simply ancient... it is almost prehistoric, a vestige of archaic magic, hidden even from the most learned.
However, I managed to identify one reference. A name: Tharandor. It is not a common place. I found only a few scattered mentions of it. From what little I deciphered, it is a place lost in time, where a magical species once lived... or so it was believed.
I haven't found any more clues, but perhaps you can find something else in the Hogwarts library. I know that if anyone can do it, it's you.
With respect and concern, Alphonse.
____________________________________________________________
I stared at the letter for a long time.
Tharandor...
I felt something stirring inside me. Another piece of the puzzle. The story was just beginning.
____________________________________________________________
On a particularly dark night, the rain beat against the windows with an almost annoying insistence. The underground library creaked slightly under the weight of the wind and the thunder rumbling in the distance.
Dion had spent hours surrounded by books, worn candles, and yellowed parchments. He had the ancient text in front of him, a book impossible to decipher completely, accompanied by other more conventional volumes he had managed to gather after weeks of searching the library.
There was something frustrating about it all: all the books that mentioned the place referred to in that mysterious text described it as a mere fantasy, an inconsistent legend. None spoke of the creatures that Dion had begun to suspect lived there. In fact, every map he found was different, as if the place had never had a definitive shape or even a real location. Everything pointed to an invention, a fable.
Absorbed by his exhaustion and frustration, Dion fell asleep with the book still open.
In the midst of the silence, a faint light began to emerge from the pages. The glow was dim but steady, almost imperceptible at first. The gem Dion wore responded with the same glow. The strange thing was that, until now, the gem had never reacted to the book... and yet, this time something was different. Iolita, his feline companion, had also approached the book, and her gem—identical in shape but purer in tone—glowed in unison. Without warning, one of the symbols in the book suddenly lit up, activating a kind of magical energy pulse. It was subtle, but enough to cause a change.
____________________________________________________________
I felt a tug, as if someone were pulling me out of myself. A blink of an eye was all it took to be somewhere else.
I was standing... or so I thought. My body wasn't mine. It was taller, more robust, and my clothes were different: dark layers, thick fabrics, heavy boots covered in mud and dry leaves. In front of me stretched a gloomy forest, covered by a dense fog that curled between the trees like snakes of smoke. The air was damp and cold, heavy with an eerie silence that weighed on my chest.
I moved forward cautiously, not knowing why my feet knew where to go. That's when I saw them: two hooded figures walking a few meters ahead. There was something about their gait, the way they spoke to each other, that compelled me to follow them.
They spoke in an ancient, unknown language, with guttural sounds and a ritualistic cadence:
—"Ethran volis... ien're thea sennor..."
—"Vaen iora'thel... ser'maka e Narth..."
I didn't understand a word, but their tense faces and the looks they exchanged told me a lot. They were arguing. And among them, a white cat walked elegantly over the fallen logs. It looked just like Iolita, but with snow-white fur and a gem the same bright color as mine.
Something inside me shuddered.
I followed them until the forest ended and, as if awakening from a dream, an imposing structure appeared before us: a castle. Not as refined as the ones I had seen in engravings or stories about Hogwarts, but an older one, still under construction. Incomplete towers, walls with scaffolding, and passageways covered with tarps.
However, they did not stop there. They walked further, into an ivy-covered hill, until they found a smaller, almost forgotten castle. Its walls were cracked, the stones covered with moss, and some sections had collapsed. It looked abandoned... until I saw them find a hidden passageway under a skillfully moved slab.
I hid among the rubble. They entered without hesitation, and I waited. Time passed without my noticing, until one of the men came out. Just one. The same one who had brought the white cat. The creature was licking its paws, and a red stain stained its fur. Blood. The man walked slowly away without saying a word.
My instincts screamed at me to run, but curiosity—or perhaps something deeper—made me approach the entrance. I was about to go down those stairs when I heard a creak behind me.
I turned around, and there it was.
A huge creature with white fur, as bright as the moon. A gem embedded in its forehead pulsed with light. It had fangs the size of my arms, and its breath was like steam from a cave. It opened its mouth, ready to devour me.
I screamed.
And woke up.
I couldn't breathe. I was covered in sweat. Iolita was in the corner of the room, bristling, staring at the book that was still glowing faintly. My hands were shaking. It wasn't a dream... not like the others. It was a memory. But not mine.
Or at least... not yet.
The parchment... hadn't changed at all.
I looked at it, hoping that something, anything, had appeared during the night. A new symbol, a blurred image, even a faded word. But no. It remained as silent as my mind as I tried to remember how the hell I ended up at Hogwarts or why I feel like time, my time, was stolen from me.
I sighed. I couldn't stop now.