Six days passed since that day in the void, and the memory of Umbra's "lesson" still clung to me like a shadow. Every morning I woke up in my room in the sanctuary lodge, the smell of nature and mingling with the scent of enchanted woodsmoke from the great hearth, and each day felt like its own adventure. Some days, my dad and I explored the grounds together with Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
We wandered into glittering fairy fields, where clouds of tiny, luminous sprites zipped and fluttered around our heads, leaving trails of silver dust in the air. I even let a few land on my hands, their wings tickling my skin as they tugged at my sleeves and hair. Harry laughed, Ron flinched when one tried to steal a button from his shirt, and Hermione, of course, asked the fairies questions until she realized they were more interested in braiding her hair than answering.
On the third day, we met Aqua, a Naiad with skin the color of shimmering moonlight on water and hair that rippled like a living waterfall.
She was stunning in a way that wasn't just beauty, it was otherworldly, the kind that made you forget to breathe for a moment. She took us to the water's edge where the mermaids and sirens gathered, and with a delicate flick of her fingers, she cast magic none of us had ever seen before.
We slipped beneath the waves, air clinging to our faces like invisible masks, able to breathe and hear clearly underwater. And there, for the first time, we heard it—the song of the mermaids and sirens together.
The sound was unlike anything I could describe. It wasn't the dangerous call that lured sailors to their deaths in legends it was soft and hauntingly beautiful, like the ocean itself was whispering secrets through their voices. Even Ron, who was always quick to joke, stood quietly with wide eyes, almost entranced.
Hermione wiped tears from her cheeks when we came back up saying it was beyond beautiful. When I wasn't exploring, I stayed in my room or the quiet gardens, reflecting on what happened with Umbra. I checked on Blood and Helena, summoning them into my room one evening to make sure they were alright.
To my relief, they were. Blood stood their and said nothing but the vibe he gave off felt something closer to shame. I told him to cheer up. "Come on blood cheer up it's not like I thought we would win. This was just a chance to test ourselves."
Then I heard Helena's voice trembled a little when she said, "I'm sorry for what happened…" I shook my head quickly, guilt twisting in my chest. "No, Helena—I'm sorry. I never wanted to put you through something like that again." But Helena looked at me, her eyes steady despite her shadowy form. "Callum… it was a good chance to test ourselves. To know what we're made of. If anything, my resolve feels stronger."
Her words made me smile, a small warmth pushing back the guilt in my chest.
Each night, back at the lodge, Newt Scamander's absence became more and more noticeable. My dad explained he was busy with something in the restricted area of the sanctuary. "Unless we go there," he said, "we probably won't see him this week."
That made Hermione's face fall, and she asked—politely, almost pleading—if we could go. "We'll be on our best behavior," she promised. My dad gave her that soft, knowing look he sometimes has, the one that says he's not saying no but also not promising yes.
"Maybe," he said. "But it's not one hundred percent safe. The people there… don't like visitors. Especially a lot of them." Then he looked at me and Harry. "You two might have a reason to go. You're legacies. One day you'll inherit some of this land, help protect it. But for now…"
Hermione nodded, resigned. "We'll be patient." After that, whenever the three wanted to visit the dragon reserve, I stayed away. I couldn't bring myself to look at Umbra again not yet. An Umbra didn't push. Through the system, his only messages were short : Take your time I'll be here when you're ready.
The reward from his quest the dragon's blood still sat unclaimed in my system inventory, a glowing icon I hadn't dared to touch it out of shame. When Hagrid took Harry, Ron, and Hermione back to the dragons one morning, I stayed behind and told my father I wanted to go somewhere else.
To the restricted area.
He didn't look surprised at all. "I figured you'd ask," he said as we walked. "How?" I asked. He smiled faintly. "Because Umbra can be… intimidating. But don't worry, he's a great teacher when you're ready."
I stopped mid-step, staring at him. "Wait. How much do you know about Umbra?" My father's smile turned softer, almost nostalgic. "Umbra was my mentor when I was young."
He glanced at me. "When I spent summers here at the sanctuary, he taught me and your aunt Aster magic and a lot more. Discipline, patience and how to truly be strong ."
My eyes widened. "You mean the Dawn family helped found the sanctuary?"
Dad nodded. "Yes. The Tesfaye family built much of it. But the Dawns? We handle the security wards, the protective charms, and make sure the sanctuary is safe Inside and out. We've done that for generations." I looked at him in awe. I thought I knew my father's story, but it seemed like every time I asked, the picture grew bigger.
Finally, we reached the edge of the restricted zone. A wide field of flowers spread before us, the air was relaxing and calm. A sign loomed ahead, etched in silver runes: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Dad put a hand on my shoulder, his face suddenly serious. "Now, son… you're twelve years old, and you're the heir of the Tesfaye family. When you enter here, you need to understand—this is one of the responsibilities the Dawn family has carried for generations. And one day, it will fall to you too."
I straightened my shoulders and nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand." We stepped past the flowers. The land changed almost instantly The field gave way to a wide valley, shaded by an ancient grove of towering trees, their bark silver-gray.
In the distance, I saw large stone houses and huts tucked between the trees, and beyond that, what looked like a small port leading to the sea. A few sturdy stone buildings sat near the waterline, faint lights flickering inside.
At the center of the path, a carved sign read: DAWNBORN VILLAGE.
I stared at it, my heart pounding not from fear, but from the feeling that this was important, that this place held answers I didn't even know I needed.
I saw them in the distance giants and half-giants taller than Hagrid, their silhouettes cutting into the horizon, their movements slow but graceful. Some were women, and they looked far more beautiful than the giants the movies ever showed with broad shoulders and powerful arms, their features had a nobility and calmness that made you pause. Even the smallest of them had to be at least seven feet tall, towering above the rest of the villagers.
Then I noticed goblins and elves mixed in the crowd — though not the twisted, pinched goblins the Ministry used for banking in Diagon Alley. These were different, more humanlike, with smoother features, brighter eyes, and longer limbs. Some were clearly half-blooded, and for a moment I found myself wondering how some of these creatures were conceived… then shook my head and thought to myself: love always finds a way.
The elves and goblins looked more human but still carried the sharpness of their magical blood — slanted eyes, ears that curved elegantly, fingers longer and more dexterous.
I saw a man at the village entrance waving. He was around 5'11, with a lean, swimmer's build all compact muscle, no wasted frame. His brown hair was slightly curly, his sea-green eyes seemed to ripple with light like the surface of a calm ocean, and his tanned skin carried the warmth of someone who belonged under the sun.
My dad waved back. "Tristan, it is good to see you," he said, clasping the man's hand. The two men shook firmly, then hugged like brothers. The man turned his eyes to me. When I looked at him, for some reason, I had the vibe of an older Percy Jackson — that same ocean smell about him, the salt and brine lingering faintly. He wore a navy blue t-shirt that hugged his body enough to show a strong chest, a hint of abs, and arms that looked like they'd snap an oar in half if he wasn't careful.
"Hello," Tristan said, his voice warm but teasing, "you must be Callum. Your dad talks about you all the time." He extended his hand. I reached out, making sure my grip was tight. He smirked after the first shake. "Nice grip."
Then he squeezed back — hard. Pain shot up my fingers and wrist almost immediately, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I squeezed back, my jaw tightening, showing him a flash of my strength.
Tristan's smile widened. "Yup. You are definitely your father's son. You definitely inherited some of his strength."
Then, just as easily, he lifted me off the ground with that same hand like I weighed nothing. I gasped, "Oh wow!" Dad sighed, "Every time with you, Tristan." Tristan grinned, unbothered. "What? All the kids like it."
He put me back on the ground. Dad shook his head. "I'm showing Callum, the village." Tristan grinned wider, "Ahhh, that makes sense. Show him where it all started."
I blinked. "Where what started?" Tristan turned his sharp sea-green eyes back to me and said matter-of-factly, "Your many-times-great grandmother came from here, Callum."
I froze. "Wait… what?" Tristan looked at Dad. "You didn't tell him the whole story?" Dad sighed, rubbing his temple. "I was going to tell him when he was older, seaweed brain." Tristan laughed loudly, throwing his head back. "Then I'll shut up, then."
"No," I said quickly. "I want to hear this." Tristan smirked, leaning in slightly. "I thought your family started in the UK and then branched off to the States. Now I'm telling you, your ancestral mother basically came from this village."
My mind reeled. Tristan smiled at my shocked face. "Yes. But since your dad wants to wait to tell you the rest of the story, I'll shut up about it." I looked at Dad, frustration creeping into my voice. "Really?"
Dad's face went stern, all humor gone. "Yes, son. And I want you to understand two things here. Because you are my son and the heir of the Dawn family and the Tesfaye family, the people of this village will try and give you special treatment. You will not accept anything. You will work hard for everything. Do I make myself clear?"
I stared at him. He was rarely this serious — almost scary in that moment but I nodded. "Yes, sir," I said firmly. "I understand." Tristan grinned, cutting the tension. "Good. Let's show him around this humble village."
We walked through the market area — stalls made of stone and wood, hung with colorful banners and charms that hummed faintly with enchantments. The village center was lively; a group of elves played strange flutes and drums, their music floating like mist.
Children darted between us, laughing — human-looking children, yes, but then one boy jumped into the river beside us and suddenly sprouted gills. Another girl on the bank shifted — bones cracked, fur sprouted, and within seconds she'd turned into a wolf cub, yipping happily before shifting back.
I stared, stunned. Tristan kept narrating, smiling like this was all normal.
Then, I saw her.
A red-haired woman — tall, six feet at least, the same height as my dad — with tattoos running down one side of her arm like winding vines of ink. She was carrying three enormous chopped trees in one arm, balanced over her shoulder, like they were just firewood.
She caught me staring, winked, and kept walking. Tristan chuckled. "Yeah, you'll get a lot of that here. The people here wouldn't mind having a child by a legacy — and actually having claim to the land. And the Dawn bloodline?"
He smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. "It's a bonus that you're also a Tesfaye. And just as " Before he could finish, there was a sudden blur of red hair.
Another red-haired girl this one younger, around my height, maybe 5'5 came charging from behind Tristan.
"Wha " was all he managed before she suplexed him into the dirt. Tristan hit the ground with a loud thud. Dad smirked. "Thank you. Someone shut him up. And my son is twelve I haven't had the talk with him yet." I blinked at the girl who'd slammed Tristan.
Her red hair blazed like fire under the sun, her bright brown eyes burned with mischief and confidence, and her face sharp cheekbones, freckled nose had features that reminded me of Ginny Weasley.
Except… she was cuter and her eyes were fierce, unflinching. She grinned like a wolf, crouched over Tristan as he groaned on the ground.
"I finally got you, Tristan, you loud mouth!" she said, laughing like she'd been waiting for this moment for years. Tristan groaned, half-laughing through the pain. "Callum… let me introduce you… to the town doctor's daughter."
He wheezed, trying to sit up. "Christen," he managed. Christen turned her head toward me, her grin fading into a scowl the second her eyes met mine.