The Great Hall, usually a place of warmth and celebration, had transformed into a sanctuary of mourning. The enchanted ceiling was veiled in a permanent twilight, heavy storm clouds swirling just above, mirroring the weight pressing down on every soul gathered below. Black silk banners hung from the balconies, emblazoned with the Ravenclaw crest dimmed by grief. Pale blue and silver flowers—a sea of forget-me-nots, lilies, and iris—encircled the polished wooden coffin that rested on a stone pedestal at the center of the room.
Liora's body lay still and peaceful, her delicate face framed by the raven feathers that Seraphine once thought of as a symbol of hope. Now, they felt like shards of broken dreams.
Rows upon rows of students and professors filled the hall, their heads bowed in solemn silence. The usually vibrant chatter of Hogwarts had been replaced by a quiet that felt almost sacred, but beneath it simmered a restless unease. The loss of Liora had rippled through the castle like a shockwave, fracturing the fragile peace the school had clung to for so long.
Seraphine stood near the front, her figure tense and rigid despite the storm of emotion raging inside her. Her hands were clenched so tightly around the silver raven charm Liora had given her that her knuckles were white. The cold metal was a cruel reminder that her friend was gone, swallowed by darkness that felt all too close.
Headmistress McGonagall's voice broke the silence, trembling slightly as she spoke.
"We gather here to honor the life of a bright, brave soul taken from us too soon. Liora's courage in the face of shadows reminds us all that even in the darkest times, light can shine through. We mourn her loss, and vow to stand together against the unknown forces that threaten us."
Though her words were meant to comfort, they felt hollow to Seraphine. No vow or promise could bring Liora back.
The ceremony dragged on, every moment stretching painfully. The faces around her were masks of grief, but Seraphine felt a cold gulf growing between herself and the rest of the school. Whispers followed her like shadows — some filled with sympathy, others edged with suspicion.
"Too close to the dark arts."
"Her friend brought this on them."
"She knows more than she's telling."
Words like venom, seeping through the walls of Hogwarts.
Days after the funeral, tension reached a breaking point.
Seraphine was walking alone near the Astronomy Tower when Marcus, a tall Slytherin with a cruel smirk and sharp eyes, stepped from the shadows.
"Still playing the victim, Seraphine?" Marcus taunted, voice low but dripping with malice. "You and your cursed curiosity — it's what got Liora killed."
Seraphine's breath hitched, fury flaring hot inside her. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Marcus leaned in, voice like ice. "No one's above suspicion, especially you."
Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. "Say another word and you'll regret it."
Before the threat could turn violent, Harry appeared, stepping swiftly between them, his face pale but resolute.
"Enough." His voice cut through the tension like a blade. "This isn't the time, Marcus."
Marcus sneered but backed away, his eyes never leaving Seraphine's.
Harry's hand lingered briefly on her shoulder. "I know you're hurting. But this fight... it's not worth losing control."
Seraphine swallowed the bitterness that threatened to spill. "Control feels like a lie these days."
Harry met her gaze, understanding flickering in his green eyes. "We'll find the ones responsible. Together."
Yet, despite Harry's words, Seraphine's nights became restless hunts. The school's labyrinthine corridors and hidden passages offered no answers. Every shadow felt like a trap, every whisper a potential clue that slipped through her fingers.
The castle, for all its ancient magic and secrets, was keeping its own silence.
One evening, drawn by a mix of desperation and stubborn hope, Seraphine slipped into the restricted section of the library. Dust motes danced in the pale candlelight, and the scent of old parchment filled the air.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled a leather-bound tome from the shelf, its cover cracked and worn with age. The title, written in faded silver letters, read "Veils of Illusion: Truth Beyond the Sight."
Her heart quickened.
Inside, the pages described an ancient spell — one designed to pierce through deception, to reveal hidden truths no matter how deeply they were buried.
But the warning chilled her to the bone: the caster's mind would unravel, fracturing slowly with each use, the line between reality and madness blurring until the world itself became a nightmare.
Seraphine's lips curled into a dark smile, the kind of smile that only those who have looked into the abyss can wear.
"Madness is a small price to pay for answers," she whispered, the words tasting like bitter magic on her tongue.
The days that followed were restless and haunted. Seraphine's thoughts spiraled into obsession. The cost of the spell was terrifying, but the alternative — remaining in the dark — was unbearable.
The school watched her with wary eyes, and the gap between her and the others widened. But Seraphine didn't care. The raven charm against her chest felt heavier now, a chain she intended to break.
Some nights, when the castle was silent, she could almost hear Liora's voice — a soft echo urging her to keep going, to find the truth hidden beneath the lies.
And so, with her heart a tangle of grief and grim determination, Seraphine prepared to step into the shadows of her own mind, to wield a magic that might save Hogwarts... or shatter her forever.