Cassius lingered in the corridor outside the Great Hall long after the last echo of footsteps had faded.
The torches flickered low, painting long shadows across the stone.
From far down the hall, he could hear the faint rumble of the departing first-years—some laughing nervously, some already chattering about their common rooms.
But he had nowhere to go.
His mind raced through the information he'd memorized from the books;
Gryffindor Tower — seventh floor, behind the Fat Lady.
Ravenclaw — same floor, west wing, hidden behind a bronze eagle that demanded riddles.
Hufflepuff — near the kitchens, cheerful and warm, though you need to bang on some wine barrels to enter.
Slytherin — in the dungeons, beneath the Black Lake, using a password usually an insult to those not of pureblood.
But Draconis?
No map mentioned it.
No ghost, no portrait, not even Dumbledore had given direction as to where he was supposed to go.
He glanced at the hall's double doors, half expecting one of the professors to return for him.
But none did.
The silence pressed in, thick and humming, like the castle itself was watching him.
Then came a sound—soft as silk brushing stone.
"Come, my heir."
He turned.
Lady Guinevere Draconis floated from the shadows, her eyes glowing faintly silver-blue.
Her form shimmered as if the air itself resisted her, but her presence was undeniable—serene, ancient, powerful.
Cassius inclined his head respectfully.
"Where is my dormitory, my Lady?"
Her smile was ghostly and proud.
"You already stand near its heart."
She turned and began to glide down a narrow corridor just off the Great Hall—a space Cassius could have sworn did not exist moments before.
The torches along the wall flared brighter as they passed burning with a blue light, revealing stonework older than the rest of the castle: smoother, darker, almost blackened by age.
"Few know," she said softly, "that I resided within these walls still, even after my name was struck from memory. The others sealed my chambers to time itself—yet the castle remembered. Hogwarts always remembers."
Cassius followed close behind, his pulse quickening.
The hallway ended abruptly in bare wall.
There was no archway, no portrait, only cold, unbroken stone.
The wall rippled like water, and from it emerged a massive door of black iron veined with silver.
Ancient runes crawled across its surface, shifting and glowing faintly like living things.
"This door," she said, "may appear only to one of my blood. Not even the Headmaster can summon it, save for with my permission."
Cassius reached out hesitantly.
The metal was warm beneath his fingers—alive, humming faintly with power.
As he touched it, the runes flared bright white, and the door unlocked with a heavy clang.
Inside was… perfection.
The air itself seemed richer, filled with the scent of parchment, oil, and faint ozone.
The vast chamber spread before him—at once elegant and functional, a living space carved for a scholar and a warrior both.
To the left stretched a magnificent library—shelves curving high, filled with old tomes bound in leather, parchment, even dragonhide.
A spiral staircase wound upward toward a mezzanine where more books gleamed faintly in candlelight.
To the right lay a polished dueling arena, the floor traced with golden runes that thrummed faintly when he stepped near.
Beyond that, through an archway, he glimpsed a laboratory—brass instruments gleaming beside a cauldron already simmering softly awaiting the introduction of ingredients.
In the far corner, a single grand bedchamber waited, curtained in silver and black.
Every wall pulsed faintly with warmth—alive with magic, aware of him.
"Is this…" he breathed, "my dormitory?"
Lady Draconis inclined her head.
"It is your house—your home. Every heir of Draconis was meant to dwell here, though none before you proved worthy enough to awaken it. This is where I have watched for a thousand years."
He turned slowly, taking it in.
"It's perfect," he whispered.
The Lady's expression softened.
"It will give you all you require. This chamber is the precursor to Rowena's creation—the 'Room of Requirement,' as you call it now or is it the 'Come and Go room'? You need only ask it for what you need, and it shall provide within reason."
Within reason, so the room still fell under the rules of general transfiguration then though with some additions such as possible secret passages out of hogwarts while also having a method through which to apparate out or possibly even into the school.
As she spoke, several small figures popped into existence around him—house-elves, dressed in immaculate black tunics embroidered with a silver dragon crest.
"Master Draconis, sir!" squeaked one, bowing low. "We is honored to serve the heir!"
Cassius blinked. "You… serve me?"
The ghost nodded.
"The elves of Hogwarts are bound not only to the school but to me as well. They have tended this chamber even when the world forgot its name. You are their rightful master now, and they will serve you rather than the school in secret."
Cassius, unused to being called "Master" by anyone, flushed slightly.
"Please… just Cassius. And thank you—for all this."
The elves looked scandalized but pleased nonetheless.
"Cassius, sir! We will keep this place shining!"
When they vanished again, Cassius set his satchel down near the library and began unpacking.
His few belongings looked absurdly small in the vast space—some textbooks, his cauldron, a handful of ingredients, and a set of worn training gloves.
The house-elves ever eager, helped to put away all his things, even filling his dresser with clothes and robes, so he turned to the dueling ring.
"May I?" he asked, glancing toward Lady Draconis.
Her silver eyes gleamed. "It would please me."
With a flick of her hand, three training dummies stepped down from alcoves along the far wall.
they looked almost human—constructed of old armor and etched wood, their limbs moving with eerie precision.
Cassius took position, main wand in hand.
"Expelliarmus!"
The dummy flicked its arm and parried with a shield charm faster than he'd ever seen, only for another to quickly cast an orange spell that rocketed towards him.
"Protego!" he countered, barely blocking the retaliatory hex.
Sparks hissed through the air as the dueling circle lit up beneath them, the runes pulsing faster, making sure any missed or deflected spells are blocked from leaving the ring and affecting the dorm.
Cassius grinned, breath quickening, as he fought his heart out with his primary wand.
The dummies were relentless—far sharper and more responsive than the animated suits of armor he'd practiced against at home or in Nurmengard.
they all cast silently, spells slamming against his shield with enough force to make him stumble.
"Impressive," murmured Lady Draconis, floating closer. "you do not lack courage as young as you are, though you do need more practice in combat to ensure your dominance even in this less impressive age."
Cassius wiped sweat from his brow, his pulse pounding.
"Thank you, and no worries i plan to train dilligently, are these dummies different from others? They fight like real people."
"They were people," she said softly. "Once."
He froze.
Her expression remained serene, though her voice carried an echo of sorrow.
"War takes its toll in many forms. Their magic endures to teach, not to harm. So do not worry."
He nodded slowly, understanding the lesson.
His training partners would be ancient wizards and witches who in death were converted into puppets lingering like ghosts but able to still use magic almost like a real person, something between a ghost and a poltergeist.
For another hour he trained—refining his footwork, adjusting his wand grip, letting instinct guide him.
His spells grew smoother, stronger, until the last dummy froze mid-lunge, when he flicked out his second wand and blasted it away with a dual cast spell.
His first victory, achieved through giving it his all, but a win none the less.
The runes dimmed again.
Silence returned.
As Cassius exited the training ring.
"Well done," Lady Draconis said approvingly. "You will make your ancestors proud."
Cassius smiled faintly, breath heavy but steady.
"Tomorrow, I'll explore the castle. I don't want to get lost once classes begin."
She inclined her head.
"Wise. But remember—this castle shifts. Maps lie. Only trust what you learn with your own eyes."
As she faded back toward the wall, her voice echoed faintly:
"Sleep well, little dragon. The world has waited long for you."
Cassius lingered a moment longer, then stepped into his chamber.
The bed was impossibly soft, the sheets cool against his skin.
As he lay back, the ceiling above shimmered like the night sky—constellations rearranging themselves into a great dragon unfurling its wings.
His eyes grew heavy, the warmth of the room seeping into his bones.
Just before sleep claimed him, he whispered,
"Goodnight, Lady Draconis."
And from somewhere within the walls, her voice—faint, maternal—replied:
"Goodnight, my heir."
Outside, the castle shifted in its sleep, and for the first time in centuries, the heart of Draconis beat again.