∆
Auren stirred, blinking against the pale morning light. His neck ached — he had fallen asleep face-down on Arthur's desk. A puddle of drool had almost claimed the edge of the black book, but its pages still fluttered faintly as though resisting his weight.
The words staring back at him made his brow arch.
"Project Silverfang."
Sounds noble, right? Wrong.
Apparently, it wasn't some epic werewolf knight order, or even a flashy code-name. Silverfang was a project — one designed to strengthen the bond between an individual and their familiar. The trick? Splicing the human's own genes into their bond. That way, the beast became an extension of them — a creature only the bonded master could truly command.
Freaky. Disturbing. Almost clever.
Auren flipped the page, eyes scanning. His smirk faded.
Thirty years ago, the project's lead had gone rotten. At first, he only used volunteers with high magical affinity. Fine. Until "volunteer" stopped meaning willing. Soon, he was mixing not just man and bond, but creature and creature — splicing traits, forcing fusions. The result? Abominations. Monsters that shouldn't exist.
And then came the kicker.
He turned his attention to the Reeves family.
The writing grew frantic here, ink blotched as though the author's quill had quivered. He had sought the Reeves' "unique abilities," the text said, to create a "perfect being." Congress had nearly caught him, but he'd vanished — along with all traces of Project Silverfang.
Auren's hand tightened on the page. His silver-grey eyes flicked to the next entry.
"This event is often tied to the more recent Reeves Incident."
Auren froze. Reeves. He skimmed down. Date: about five years ago.
He leaned back in Arthur's chair, hair falling over his right eye, and blew out a sharp breath.
"Reeves Incident?"
The book gave no details. Which meant either the scribe didn't know, or the details were buried deep enough that only the highest seats in Congress remembered. Either way, suspicion clearly pointed to the Reeves. And if suspicion existed, so would reinvestigation.
His thoughts flicked to Uncle Cassian — detained. Maybe not coincidence after all.
"Ugh. Thinking. I hate thinking." Auren blew his hair upward in frustration, strands falling right back over his eye. "This is boring."
He snapped the book shut, pushed himself up, and stretched. Outside the window, the weekend sun had already risen, scattering light across the grounds.
If the incident was five years ago, then Daniel and Dorian — the older Reeves cousins — should remember something. Better to pry answers from family than waste time sneaking through dry archives.
He splashed his face, muttered something resembling a thanks to God that it was the weekend, and slung his uniform tie loose around his neck with zero care.
"Alright, time to dig up family secrets."
Auren smirked at his reflection, then shoved open the dorm door and stepped into the corridor, ready to hunt down the other Reeves.
∆∆
"Heya, cousin."
Auren winced the moment the words left his mouth. Why did I say that? Arthur doesn't talk like that.
Daniel Reeves, twenty-one, assistant professor of Magical Beasts 301, stood by the Quidditch pitch. A cluster of third-years darted overhead on broomsticks while couples strolled the edges of the field. Daniel, meanwhile, was pointing at a row of pigeons perched on the stands, muttering scoldingly.
"Don't you dare poop on those seats, you little menaces," he warned. His tone was sharp, but the birds only ruffled their feathers guiltily. Beasttongue — Arthur's cousin wielded it like a second voice.
Daniel glanced back at Auren and grinned.
"Arthur. Been a while. Loving the new look, by the way."
Auren almost corrected him, then caught himself. Play the part. Don't slip.
He forced a shrug, dropping into Arthur's tone of weary nonchalance.
"Eh, not keeping it. Gonna change it by tomorrow."
"That's a shame. I was digging it." Daniel pointed his thumb at the birds. "Care to tell these guys not to redecorate the stands?"
Auren froze. Arthur couldn't do that. Not currently. He grinned awkwardly. Red flag
"You know what, Daniel? You've got this. You don't need me."
Daniel narrowed his falcon-sharp eyes, suspicious, but let it slide. He straightened, brushing dirt off his robes.
"Anyway, what can I do for you, cuz? I know you didn't walk all the way from your tower just to say hi."
Smart, Auren thought, smoothing his wind-blown hair back from his face.
"Well, I wanted to ask you something."
Daniel smirked. "You really need a haircut. You're starting to look like Alpha."
"Very funny." Auren rolled his eyes. "Look, was there… an incident? Around five years ago?"
The question landed like a stone. The only sounds left were the rustle of leaves and the distant flap of wings. Daniel's gaze hardened, unreadable.
"Where'd you hear that from?"
Auren hid a smile. Yessss. He was onto something.
"And is it connected to what's happening now?"
"Arthur." Daniel's voice was sharp. "Shut up for a second. How do you even know about this?"
Auren pressed, calm but firm.
"Please, Daniel. If my life is in danger because of this… don't you think I deserve to know?"
Daniel let out a long breath, the suspicion in his eyes softening to something heavier. He gestured to the benches.
"Fine. Sit down. I guess it's time."
Auren sank onto the bench. Daniel's eyes returned to their usual warmth, though his voice stayed low.
"Arthur… we had one more cousin, once. Jonathan. The only son of our Aunt Selene, before she disappeared."
Auren tilted his head, masking his eagerness.
Daniel went on. "You must've noticed you're… not like the rest of us. Where each of us has one gift, you have several, right?"
"Yeah," Auren said carefully.
"That's called the Fivefold. Passed down from our great-grandfather, Silas Reeves."
Auren stiffened. Silas? That's the same name old man Reeves before…
Daniel's tone grew solemn.
"The Fivefold manifests across five children in every Reeves generation, one gift each. Firstborn inherits Beasttongue, second gets the Arcane Core, third the Sighted Soul, fourth Cryomancy, fifth Bloodweaving."
Bloodweaving, Auren echoed silently. That's the last core. The one I'm missing.
"But," Daniel continued, "when a family line doesn't reach five children… sometimes, the gifts converge. One child inherits them all. That child becomes the Singular Heir."
Auren's jaw dropped.
"You're saying I'll have all five?"
"More like you already do," Daniel replied grimly.
Auren barked a half-laugh. "Power like that could kill someone." He bit back the rest of his thought. Like it nearly killed me once already.
"What about Jonathan? Is he… also a Singular Heir?"
Daniel hesitated. A long beat. Then he nodded.
"Jonathan was a Singular Heir. But it was too much for him. While I was in sixth year — Dorian and he still in second — we had to keep him steady. If he could last a month without spiraling, we thought he'd make it."
Daniel's face darkened.
"Then one holiday, Dad and Mum were away. Strangers showed up, muttering about Reeves blood, demanding things that didn't make sense. They grabbed Vivienne, stuck her with a needle. Jonathan snapped. All five gifts ignited at once… and burned him alive from the inside. By the time Dad came home… it was too late."
Auren sat in silence. Even he didn't have a quip for that.
Daniel's voice was rough when he continued.
"We later learned those strangers were tied to the illegal hybrid rings. I didn't understand it then. But when they started targeting you? It all made sense."
Even Daniel doesn't know about Silverfang, Auren realized. That piece stays with me.
"So they're after me. For my blood. My powers." Auren's gaze turned inward. "Feels like they already have some of it. Maybe back when we were in Muncain…"
Daniel nodded. "Possibly. Arthur — trust me when I say this. You were safer at Hogwarts. At least Voldemort had rules. These people? No honor. No mercy."
Auren leaned back, smirking despite himself.
"Well, they can bring it on, cuz. Because I'm not leaving before the academic year ends. And hey — I've got you lot watching my back."
Daniel rose, shaking his head in amusement.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Arthur Reeves?"
Auren flashed a grin, his silver-grey eyes glinting.
"Oh, me? I'm Auren."
He said it in Arthur's sarcastic drawl, just enough to hide the truth behind the joke.
∆∆∆
Auren stood at the Thunderbird House's tallest tower, the wind tugging at his hair. From up here, the castle sprawled out like a kingdom, but it felt smaller than the storm brewing inside him.
Family talk, he thought grimly.
On the outside, he probably looked fine—smirking, arms crossed, shoulders squared. Picture-perfect arrogance. But inside, he was rattling like a leaf in winter.
This must be what Arthur faces every day… and here I was thinking he was just some cold, broody weirdo. He's actually… strong. Mostly.
Auren's smirk twitched, faltered. I wish he'd let me in—just enough for me to understand him. Just enough for me to stop making a joke out of everything.
And then—like a door suddenly kicked open—it hit him.
A surge of memories. Not his. Arthur's.
His entire life came crashing into Auren's skull: the laughter, the silence, the pain, the betrayals, the moments of fire and frost and grief.
It wasn't cool. It wasn't heroic.
It was too much.
Auren staggered backward, slamming against the stone wall. His hands clutched his head as if to keep it from splitting apart. Images poured through him—faces he didn't know but somehow recognized, fights he had never fought but could feel every bruise from, first year and Voldemort, and second year and...well, Voldemort again and nights Arthur had spent alone.
"Ahh—dammit!" he hissed, his voice cracking. He'd never admit it out loud, but tears burned at his eyes. He wiped them away furiously, muttering, "Oh no. Nope. Reeves men don't cry. We smirk through the pain. That's the rule. At least, it's min"
The flood didn't stop. For every memory that felt like it would break him, another one came—the stubborn strength, the grit, the moments Arthur stood back up when he had no right to.
Minutes bled by. By the time Auren finally dragged his head up, his chest was heaving, his throat raw.
"…Thou hast lived quite the life, Arthur," he whispered shakily, the words tumbling out old-fashioned and strange even to him. He snorted bitterly. "Great. Now I sound like you. Broody, poetic, tragic. Just what I needed."
He pushed himself upright and stared out into the rising sky. His fists clenched until his knuckles cracked.
"Arrgh…" he groaned, head tipping back. "You win, Arthur. You always do. Even when you're not here, you still find a way to make me look like the second act."
For a moment he almost laughed. Almost. Instead, the sound that came out was something between a chuckle and a broken sigh.
Turning away from the view, Auren trudged back to his dorm. The smirk was gone. The swagger—drained. He collapsed onto his bed like a puppet with its strings cut, staring up at the ceiling.
"That's enough hunting," he murmured to no one, the sarcasm faint but still there. "Time to come back, Arthur. You've had your fun tormenting me."
And with deliberate surrender, Auren loosened his grip on consciousness and let the world fade to black.
∆∆∆∆
Arthur peeked at the man sitting across from him. The old ancestor—dead for centuries—was calmly sipping coconut juice.
In the middle of a barren, cracked grassland.
Arthur had learned not to question anything in this place.
"Hey, old timer," Arthur began, scratching his head. "You think it worked? I mean… I just opened my mind to Auren. Dumped every bit of my life in there. You said it'd work."
The man opened his eyes, slow and steady. "Who knows? Why don't you ask that guy?"
"Who—?" Arthur started to ask when he felt an arm snake around his neck. Warm, but cold at the same time.
"Aw, come on, big bro. Don't be that guy," said the voice.
That voice. That sarcastic, annoying, familiar voice.
Arthur shrugged the arm off his shoulder and turned. And for the first time, he saw him.
Auren Reeves.
Hang on—was he supposed to be seeing him?
"Uh, hey old timer… is this legal?" Arthur muttered.
"If you want it to be, Beta," came the calm reply.
Arthur looked Auren up and down. Identical to him—except for silver-grey hair, an air of carefree recklessness, and a slightly older vibe. Basically Arthur, but with emotions, swagger, and just enough mischief to make you want to have a drink with him.
Definitely not what you'd expect from something born out of icy powers.
Auren stood there, smirking.
"So… I take it we're cool now?" Arthur asked.
Silence.
Then: "Without a doubt, big bro. But fair warning—I am very difficult to handle."
Arthur snorted. "Yeah. Had my fair share of that already, rip-off."
"Rip-off?" Auren raised a brow. "I'm the improved model. You're just the buggy prototype."
"Please. If you're the upgrade, then I'm returning you to the store."
"Ha! Bold words for someone who can't even keep his hair under control."
Arthur ran a hand through his messy strands. "At least mine's not trying to blind people with moonlight, you silver-haired wannabe."
"Jealousy," Auren sang. "Classic prototype behavior."
"Okay," Silas said suddenly, standing with a dramatic sigh. "My work here is done. I'm not babysitting two versions of the same smart mouth."
"Obviously," both boys muttered in unison.
They looked at each other, then quickly looked away, muttering, "Don't copy me."
Silas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mm. Anyways—keep climbing, boys. Until you reach Glenhaven. And try not to kill each other before then."
And then—he was gone.
"That was it?" Auren asked, looking around. "No pep talk? No wisdom of the ages?"
"Guess even he couldn't stand you," Arthur replied.
"Or you. Don't act like you're the favorite child."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You sound like a knockoff sibling auditioning for family drama."
"And you sound like a wannabe Thor without the hammer," Auren shot back.
"Wha-?"
Arthur smiled despite himself. "Touché."
"Blah, blah… leave, Arthur. I need some peace and quiet," Auren said, stretching like he owned the place.
"Yeah… me too."
Arthur was about to close his eyes to go back when Auren spoke up again.
"Hang on—before you go. You might see a letter on your desk. And some books. Ignore the letter. I was… cranky. But read the books. Or maybe not, since my memories will be yours. Oh, and maybe avoid the library for a few days."
Arthur frowned. "Auren… what did you do?"
"Hey! Your fault, not mine. Besides, I've got my hands full now."
"With what?"
"I realized how important the Beasttongue is to you. So I'm gonna help you appease him. Give you a second chance."
Arthur blinked. "Appease him? Who?"
"Oh, you thought I was the only one?" Auren grinned, tilting his head. "There are five of us. I know that now. And we're all here. Some closer than others. Some nicer than others. Even you."
Arthur let out a low breath. "Well… if I do get it back, I'll have you to thank."
"Don't mention it. Now… bye-bye."
Arthur finally closed his eyes.