The grass door opened without a creak and out stepped Gabriel, shirtless with the sun gleaming off his bare shoulders. He wore nothing but loose shorts and a lazy grin, a halo of pale-blue flame hovering above his head.
In one hand, he carried a small portable radio that crackled faintly with static before the opening chords of 'Descobridor dos Sete Mares' began to play. In the other, he balanced two buckets - one empty, and the other half-full of ice and a few sweating bottles of Tubaina - while a fishing rod rested casually against his shoulder.
"Uma luz azul me guia; Com a firmeza e os lampejos do farol,"
He hummed along as he crossed the sun-warmed stone path toward the lake. The renovations his mother had made over the past months had turned the once-modest pond into a small shimmering expanse, its waters clear enough to see the flashes of gold and silver from the fish darting beneath the surface.
"E os recifes lá de cima; Me avisam dos perigos de chegar,"
Setting his things down, Gabriel kicked off his slippers and sat at the edge, plunging his feet into the cool water. He sighed, the kind of sigh that came from a soul entirely at peace. The radio sat beside him, a safe distance from the lake—Eloá had made very sure he'd learned that lesson once before.
"Angra dos Reis e Ipanema, Iracema, Itamaracá,"
Taking out his wand, he plucked a small pebble from the ground and muttered, "Vermifors."
"Porto Seguro, São Vincente, Braços abertos sempre a esperar,"
The pebble shivered, stretched, and became a fat pink worm wriggling lazily in his palm. Gabriel smirked, skewered it on the hook, and cast his line with a satisfying 'fwip' across the glistening surface.
"Pois bem, cheguei; Quero ficar bem à vontade,"
With the rod nestled between his knees, he reached for a bottle of Tubaina, flicked his wand again and whispered, "Flamma Borealis."
"Quero ficar bem à vontade; Na verdade, eu sou assim~"
A ribbon of crystalline blue-white flame flowed from the tip, wrapping gently around the glass until frost bloomed across it in a delicate sheen. The fire faded, leaving the bottle perfectly chilled. Gabriel bit off the cap with a soft pop, stowed his wand, and took a long, refreshing gulp.
"Descobridor dos sete mares, Navegar eu quero~"
"Ahhh," he exhaled, content.
The song on the radio rolled on, the cheerful rhythm echoing across the lake.
Gabriel leaned back on his hands, squinting at the bright sky as the blue halo shimmered faintly in the reflection of the water. The day was warm, the world was quiet, and for once - just once - there was no lesson to learn, no mum to fight, no secret to uncover.
Just him, the sun, the song, and the promise of a lazy after—
"Hoot."
Inhale.
Just him, the sun, the song, and the—
"Hoot."
Exhale.
Him, sun, song, lazy—
"HOOT!"
"FUCK! WHAT!?" Gabriel exploded, nearly spilling his Tubaina as he rammed the handle of his fishing rod into the earth to keep it steady. He whipped off his sunglasses and turned toward the source of the noise with the righteous fury of a man interrupted mid-serenity.
The owl stared back.
A big, round, judgmental owl, glaring at him as if he'd personally offended the entirety of birdkind. Its feathers puffed up indignantly, a thick bundle of envelopes and papers hanging from its leg.
Gabriel groaned, slumping. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
The bird gave another sharp hoot, dropped its load unceremoniously onto the ground, and continued to glare.
"Yeah, yeah, hold your feathers," he muttered, crouching to gather the scattered papers. He shook the sand off them, squinting at the wax seals. "Right, Hogwarts letter... check. The Quibbler..."
He blinked at the strange glass bottle taped to the cover.
"...and a complimentary vial of moonscream," he read aloud, eyebrows arching. "To protect against the noxious rays of the moon."
Gabriel snorted, half a laugh escaping him. "Oh, Luna."
Finally, he picked up the last of the pile.
"And everyone's favorite Ministry propaganda - The Daily Prophet."
He rolled his eyes but unfolded it anyway as he walked back toward the house, the paper crinkling in the warm air. His gaze froze on the bold, black headline sprawled across the front page.
SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN
Ministry on High Alert as First Breakout in History Occurs Overnight
Underneath, the unfamiliar moving photograph of a wild-eyed man snarled silently from behind iron bars, his number tag swaying against his chest.
Gabriel frowned, scanning the opening lines as he stepped into the shade of the porch.
"Officials confirm that early yesterday morning, guards discovered the cell of convicted murderer Sirius Black empty. Black, once a trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix and godfather to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, was serving a life sentence for the betrayal of the Potter family and the murder of thirteen people with a single curse."
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Morgana's tits," he swore under his breath. "Potter really doesn't get a break."
He folded the paper under his arm and crossed the room toward an old metal tin resting on the counter. The side of it was engraved with crooked letters that read: 'COIN DISPENSER – HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY (8 y.o. GABRIEL)'.
The enchanted lid popped open with a cheerful ding! when he touched it, and a handful of knuts jumped neatly into his palm.
"Thanks, past me," he said dryly, tossing the coins once before heading back outside.
Gabriel adjusted the paper again, squinting down where he'd left off.
"In an official note released earlier this morning, the Ministry of Magic reassures the public that there is no cause for alarm. Minister Cornelius Fudge has authorized the deployment of Dementors from Azkaban Prison as a temporary security measure while the fugitive remains at large."
Gabriel blinked once. Then twice.
He slowly lowered the newspaper and looked at the owl still waiting by his side. "Here," he said absently, reaching out with the coins.
He stopped.
"Wait - what the fuck?"
The owl was perched smugly on the edge of the lake, tearing into a freshly caught fish.
Gabriel looked from the fish to the bird, then to his fishing rod - which was now lying a few meters away from where he'd left it, the line still dripping and the bait gone.
He pointed accusingly. "Did you fish this!?"
The owl paused mid-bite, turned its head almost completely sideways, and gave a self-satisfied, "Hoot."
Gabriel stared. Then sighed in defeat. "I give up."
He dropped the coins into the small leather pouch tied around the owl's neck. The bird gave a short, triumphant hoot, spread its wings, and flew off toward the horizon with the fish still clutched in its talons.
Gabriel watched it go, rubbing his temple. "Unbelievable," he muttered, sitting back down and returning his attention to the newspaper.
He read the next line.
"The Dementors will be stationed at strategic locations throughout the country, including the perimeters of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Minister assures parents that this will provide the utmost safety to students."
His jaw slowly fell open.
He reread the line.
Then again.
Finally, the words sank in. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, and hissed like a kettle about to boil.
He looked longingly at his radio - still playing its cheerful tune - and at the bottle of still-frosted Tubaina resting beside it.
Then, with the grim resolve of a man marching toward battle, he grabbed the bottle, glared at the newspaper, and stomped toward the house.
Down the stairs.
Past the potion's workshop.
Past the second laboratory.
All the way to the third underground lab.
The air there was thick with the smell of ozone and alchemical reagents. Eloá was hunched over a workbench, tinkering with what used to be Ravenclaw's Diadem - now flattened into a shimmering disk surrounded by runes and gemstone circuits.
"Mom," Gabriel called, voice dangerously close to a whine.
"Yes, meu Anjo?" she answered absently, her eyes hidden behind the thick brass goggles strapped to her face.
"The idiots at the Ministry are sending soul-sucking monsters to Hogwarts."
Eloá froze mid-adjustment.
Her goggles clicked once, twice, shifting lenses with tiny metallic snaps.
She set her wand down on the table.
Inhaled deeply.
Exhaled a long, soul-tired groan that reverberated through the entire lab.
Finally, she pulled the goggles up to her forehead and gave him a hollow stare.
"Maybe," she said weakly, "they'll do it with the proper care and oversight it deserves?"
Gabriel looked back at her, completely deadpan.
"…Mom."
-~=~-
Weeks later, Gabriel found himself feeling the bitter satisfaction of being right.
The Hogwarts Express had been rolling along without issue, laughter and chatter filling the corridors - until it didn't.
Without warning, the train gave a long, shuddering groan and came to a complete stop. The cheerful murmur died instantly, replaced by uneasy silence and the faint creak of metal cooling.
Neville, seated by Gabriel's side, gripped his toad's box tightly. "W-what happened?"
Hermione straightened up from her seat, already slipping into her rational tone. "I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just a technical stop. The train will start moving again any moment now."
Across from them, Ginny's eyes were darting to the window, suspicion plain on her face. "Then why'd the lights go funny?" she asked, her hand already inching toward her wand.
The lamps flickered again - once, twice - and then dimmed, leaving the cabin bathed in a ghostly twilight.
Luna, pressed close to Gabriel's side, tugged gently at his sleeve. When he turned, she was pointing at the cabin window.
It was frosting over.
The ice spread in delicate, creeping veins across the glass.
Gabriel groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
"Gabriel?" Neville asked, voice shaking.
Hermione's voice came next, pitched higher now. "Do you - do you know what's happening?"
Gabriel leaned forward, rested his forehead against the cold windowpane, and muttered between soft thuds as he bumped his head against it:
"Stupid. Fucking. Ministry. I fucking. Knew it."
The air turned sharp and heavy. Outside the compartment came faint, distorted whispers - half words, half breath. The temperature plunged further, each of their exhales turning to mist.
Luna pressed closer to him. Ginny had already drawn her wand. Neville's was trembling in his grip.
Gabriel sighed through his nose, stood up, and patted Luna gently on the head. "Stay close," he murmured. Then, louder: "I fucking knew it."
He raised his wand. The others followed suit, Hermione's hand steady, Ginny's jaw tight, Neville's knuckles white.
The door handle rattled.
Then it began to open - slowly, creaking on its hinges.
The thing outside floated into view.
Tall. Skeletal. Shrouded in rotted, tattered robes that seemed to drink in the dim light. The rasping sound that filled the corridor wasn't breathing - it was closer to a dying whisper, dragged out incessantly. As the hood shifted, its face came into view: pale, leathery skin stretched thin over bone, with skin over where its eyes should be, and a twisting mouth that wouldn't be out of place in a leech .
The three girls and a Neville screamed, their breath visible in the freezing air.
Gabriel didn't scream. He roared.
"I FUCKING KNEW IT!"
His wand slashed through the air. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
From the tip exploded a blinding surge of blue-white light, taking form mid-flight - a massive, spectral shark, sleek and immense, its body rippling with cold fury.
It crashed into the Dementor with the force of a tidal wave, clamping spectral jaws around the creature and slamming it against the corridor wall. The train shook with the impact, blue light washing over the windows as the shark twisted and bit again dragging the monster away through the corridors.
For a brief moment, there was silence - only the sound of heavy, uneven breathing and the faint hum of the train's lamps flickering back to life.
Gabriel exhaled through his teeth, lowering his wand. "Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head, "proper care and oversight, my arse."