Decisions and Soul Wraiths
It had only been two weeks, but Rosa, Temperance, and Timothy looked as though they had lived through two lifetimes. They were now hidden on a jagged, distant island off the coast of the smallest continent on the planet. Though the dimension held three livable worlds, Rosa refused to be banished off-planet; she chose the Ambrose estate furthest from the Central Continent, a place where the air tasted of salt and isolation.
Temperance and Timothy had no choice but to follow. Their family had publicly disowned them, too weak to oppose the combined fury of the Divination Houses. Banished and disgraced, they were forced into distance learning programs – no other wizarding school would take them. Rosa, however, refused to concede. She dropped out of Star Academy entirely, determined to master the magical arts on her own terms.
In the mansion's grand lab, a projection of Professor Adder glowed within a sphere of vibrant green light, sternly supervising Temperance's potion-making. On the training pitch outside, Timothy moved through his drills under the flickering gaze of Professor Shorepart, within a blue sphere.
But below them all, in the vast, damp catacombs, Rosa stood in a fever of ambition. Sweat poured down her face, her breath coming in ragged huffs. She stood at the center of a massive magic circle, her eyes darting to a smaller, blackened ring before her where her second attempt at a summons had nearly ended her life.
She calmed her heart, rebuilding her magic. With a shaky hand, she mended the runes. The burnt circle mended and brightened at the same time. She searched an ancient, leather-bound tome for additional runes. A pile of discarded books to the right of the larger circle testament to a frantic search. Her eyes kept sliding toward a dark pedestal bathed in a perpetual pool of light. On it sat the Emotion Doll. Despite the "Pedestal of Keeping," the Doll was actively attempting to break its bonds; a slick layer of black sludge formed on the stone top beneath it, dripping slowly to the floor. Each drop sent a spark of corrupting light skittering through the webbing of the barrier surrounding the pedestal. The Doll was slowly destroying the wards of the ancient artifacr.
Rosa tore her gaze from it, focused her will, and placed a focal stone within the power circle and just before her. She stood straight and spoke in an ancient Tan language.
"I! Rosa Sophia Ambrose, daughter of divination, sorcerer, and Succuby, call on the one to train me! I call the one who will obey! I call the one who will never stray! Circle of wisdom and time, fulfill my need—bring me my find!"
Dense black smoke slowly filled the space within the smaller circle. The catacombs went bone-chillingly cold and there was a smell of ancient magic and thick herbs. Suddenly, an arm, studded with warts oozing foul black pus shot out of the darkness, seizing Rosa by the throat.
Rosa choked as her defensive wards flared. The arm was set alight with hissing black flames, but the creature did not let go. A hoarse scream echoed from the smoke, followed by a sudden, chilling laugh. As Rosa began to lose consciousness, the smoke cleared.
What was revealed caused Rosa's soul to tremble. Two beings had passed over the veil.
A Soul Wraith hovered above the scorched ground, holding the lifeless, hideous creature whose hand had just fell from Rosa's neck. The wraith tossed the wart-covered corpse onto the circle and smiled at Rosa, whose throat was already a blazing red bruise. She glided toward the bookcase – using the corpse as a bridge to move over the runic circle - her voice sounding like silk on a breeze but smelling of honey and rot as she spoke.
"You look for a teacher from the other side of the Veil, yet you only half-write your circle," the Wraith eyed the bookshelf greedily as she reached it. Her head then slowly rotated 180 degrees on her shoulders, blue smoke billowing from empty eye sockets. "I have been watching you, Rosa Sophia Ambrose."
Rosa moved to speak, but her mouth sealed shut—her skin becoming seamless as if she had never had lips at all. The Soul Wraith smiled again, the smoke within her eye sockets shimmering a deeper azure hue.
"You gave me your full name, dear," she whispered. Her smile broadened and then her hand slowly rose and pointed to a flaw in the runes. Rosa's eyes flicked to them but she saw nothing wrong. "And you gave me the reverse-control. I am no longer the summoned; I am the master." The smoke within her eye sockets swirled in the opposite direction and Rosa felt like her soul was being read.
The Soul Wraith's head turned back to the bookcase, three dark tomes descending to her. "Are you ready to learn, Rosa Sophia Ambrose? Truly? Perhaps you need to learn respect first. Respect for self. Should we see how you are of the Succuby?"
Rosa let out a muffled scream as her bones began to snap and shift. Her skin flaked away like old parchment. Her legs slammed together, fusing into a powerful, scaled tail. She grew taller, more beautiful, and infinitely more dangerous. She was becoming a Succubus.
While Rosa learned valuable lessons, a different kind of meeting took place within the peace of Hazel's Dreamscape. Harry, Hazel, Ron, Hermione, Evervine, and Marcel sat together. Just outside the veil of Hazel's dreamscape, "Dream-Storms" raged—the subconscious residue of Voldemort and the Emotion Doll re-manifesting within the seven known dimensions.
Hazel looked up from a heavy tome: Talismans of Power, Sight, and Protection, to glance at her brother.
"Why are you worried about the Daily Prophet, Harry?" she asked, her voice calm. "It's nonsense. As long as we trust you, that's all that matters." She sighed, closing the book. "Though I am not happy about the Ministry confiscating Mother's monocle or this new law they're passing."
"Do you think it will pass?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed.
"Yes. They won't listen." Hazel looked at Harry. "There is a witch at the Ministry who will be at Hogwarts this year. When I looked at her, I saw you in great pain, Harry. And it won't be just you. Hogwarts is changing."
She leaned forward. "Harry, you must learn Occlumency. It may be the only way to hide from Voldemort now that he's seen the link. I may not be able to help you. You need to trust Professor Snape."
Harry shrugged, biting into a chocoberry slush worm that Marcel brought from Celestial Delight Confectioners. "I sense your wards activate whenever he tries to link with me. The link just... disappears."
Hermione and Evervine rolled their eyes and then gave each other knowing looks as Hazel responded calmly to her brother.
"But the Ministry may get strict and strip my wards from you," Hazel warned. "They are a blend of En and Tan techniques. They'll be labeled illegal by October."
Before she could continue, a ghostly, wispy form of Sirius Black appeared above them. "Everyone back to 12 Grimmauld Place. We're about to have a meeting."
One by one, the others stood and faded from the dreamscape. Hazel remained alone for a brief moment. As she had looked at her uncle, a broken vision flashed before her eyes—a dark room, a fluttering archway, and a scream.
Her heart stuttered. She recognized the Department of Mysteries. She recognized the Veil.
"I won't let him die," she whispered, as her form faded from view.