The morning after Elias's dream passed in a haze.
He felt the presence at the edge of his awareness all day, like a breath on the back of his neck that never resolved into form. Severus stayed close enough that their elbows brushed whenever they walked. Lily kept glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting the trees themselves to step forward and greet them.
Whatever the presence was, it had become bolder.
Its retreat yesterday had not been defeat.
It had been… restraint.
And Elias knew this:
Tonight, it would test him again.
He didn't tell Lily or Severus. He didn't want them waiting for the fear—they had enough of that already. But the knowledge lived in him like a pulse. The box hummed beneath the earth like a buried heart. And the runes on his window that morning had not been coincidence.
Something was aligning.
Something was waiting.
Spinner's End had an odd stillness to it that afternoon. A stillness that belonged not to peace, but to the moment before a storm.
Inside the Snape house, Tobias muttered to himself in the kitchen—nothing cruel, nothing coherent, just broken fragments of memory that Elias couldn't quite follow. Eileen watched the window with a tight, restless energy. She never asked what Elias had found in the wardrobe. She didn't have to.
The tension in the house was unbearable.
Elias escaped it as soon as he could.
He told Severus to stay inside.
Severus tried to argue.
Elias didn't let him finish.
"No," he said. "Not today."
Severus's face fell. "You're shutting me out."
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"You said we face it together," Severus whispered.
"Not tonight." Elias's voice softened, but only barely. "Tonight isn't safe."
For a long moment, Severus didn't move.
Then he nodded, because he trusted Elias more than he trusted anything else in the world.
It made Elias feel sick.
The first lie he'd ever spoken to Severus had been this morning:
We face it together.
He left before that guilt could crush him.
Lily was waiting for him by the river, her red hair catching what little sunlight still drifted through the clouds.
"You left Sev at home," she said. She wasn't asking.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Elias stopped walking. "Because tonight isn't his night."
"And it's yours?" she demanded.
"Yes."
Lily stepped forward, anger bright in her eyes. "You don't get to make that decision. You don't get to decide to walk into danger alone."
"That's exactly what I get to do."
"Elias—"
He cut her off. "I won't risk you."
A flush of fury crossed her cheeks. "You don't own me. And you don't get to choose whether I stand beside you."
"I do," Elias said quietly, "if standing beside me gets you killed."
That stopped her.
But only for a second.
"Then don't let it."
Elias flinched.
Lily stepped closer. "If something is coming tonight… if something is waking… I won't let you face it alone."
Elias looked at her—really looked at her.
She wasn't fearless. She was terrified.
But she would walk into the fire anyway.
He admired that.
He hated that.
He loved that, and he was too young to know what to do with that truth.
"Fine," he whispered. "But you stay behind me."
Lily nodded.
It was the closest he'd ever come to begging someone.
There was no wind as they walked into the woods.
The air was unnaturally still.
Sound moved strangely—soft, muffled, like the world itself was holding breath.
Even the river sounded quieter.
Lily walked close enough that Elias could feel her warmth. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Both of them felt it:
Tonight, the presence wasn't waiting to be found.
It was coming to find them.
They entered the clearing.
The earth trembled beneath their feet.
The box—buried beneath leaves—pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat under soil.
Lily grabbed Elias's wrist.
"Don't touch it," she whispered.
"I'm not going to touch the box."
"Then what are we—"
A sound stopped her.
A sound like—
A door unlatching.
Not in the physical world.
Not in the earth or trees or air.
In Elias's mind.
Lily felt him tense.
"What is it?" she breathed.
Elias didn't answer. Because he knew now—knew with absolute clarity—that the box wasn't the door.
He was.
The runes hadn't activated the presence.
The presence hadn't awakened because of the clearing.
It had awakened because Elias had read them—because his recognition was the key.
The door wasn't moving in the world.
It was moving in him.
The wind rose suddenly, swirling leaves around their ankles. Lily gasped, stepping back.
"Elias…"
He lifted a hand.
The air stilled.
Lily stared.
"You can stop the wind?"
"No," Elias murmured. "It stopped because something else told it to."
A shadow pooled near the treeline—not darkness, not silhouette. More like the absence of shape. Like a tear in the air that refused to take form.
Lily's breath shattered into tiny pieces.
"Is that it?" she whispered.
"Yes," Elias said. "That's the thing that's been watching."
It wasn't a creature.
It wasn't a ghost.
It wasn't even a person.
It was possibility made sentient—raw, ancient magic shaped by the remnants of someone who had gone too far.
Elias could feel it pulling on his mind.
Testing the edges.
Looking for the door.
"Elias…" Lily's voice trembled. "Talk to me. Please."
He stepped forward.
"Stay behind me," he said without looking back.
Lily obeyed.
The presence shifted—like the flicker of an idea through someone else's thoughts.
It pressed against Elias's awareness.
Not violently.
Curiously.
Like a traveler knocking on a door they already knew would open.
Elias spoke.
"Leave."
The shadow pulsed.
Not retreating.
Not obeying.
Responding.
It wasn't going to leave this time.
He felt it stretching—reaching through him, toward something deeper, something older, something that wasn't entirely his.
Lily cried out as the air snapped, a sharp crack like lightning without thunder.
The shadow thickened.
Elias felt pressure behind his eyes—like something pushing to get through.
"Elias!" Lily screamed. "Fight it!"
He staggered back.
The presence pushed harder.
Open.
The word wasn't spoken.
But Elias felt it.
Not a command.
A request.
A patient, inexorable request.
Open.
His knees buckled. He slammed a hand into the dirt to keep from falling.
"NO!" Lily shouted.
She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him.
"Elias, look at me! LOOK AT ME!"
He forced his eyes open.
Lily's face swam into view. Terrified. Desperate. Alive.
"Come back," she whispered. "Don't you dare leave me alone in here."
Her hands on him grounded him.
Her voice pulled him back into himself.
Into his body.
Into the world.
Into being Elias, not the door something wanted to walk through.
The presence recoiled, shocked.
Elias stood.
Something inside him clicked into alignment.
A new shape.
A sharpened edge.
A control he hadn't possessed until this moment.
He stepped toward the shadow.
It pulsed, wary now.
"You don't get to enter me," Elias said quietly. "You don't get to choose my path."
The shadow quivered.
Lily held her breath.
Elias extended his will—not to open, but to close.
The air vibrated.
The presence pushed back—frustrated, unprepared.
Elias pushed harder.
NO.
Not tonight.
Not now.
Not until he was ready.
Not until he understood who had left this shard behind.
Not until he understood what it wanted from him.
NOT UNTIL HE CHOSE.
The shadow collapsed inward like a wave sucked violently back into the ocean.
The clearing shuddered.
Lily fell to her knees.
Elias remained standing.
Breathing hard.
Sweating.
Alive.
The presence withdrew.
Not gone.
But contained.
The pressure faded.
The trees straightened.
The wind returned.
Sound came back into the world.
Lily scrambled up and threw herself at Elias, arms around him before she could think better of it.
"You idiot," she whispered furiously, trembling against him. "You absolute idiot. You should have run."
"No," Elias murmured, resting a hand carefully on her back. "If I ran once, it would follow me forever."
"It already will!" she cried.
"I know."
She pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.
"You could have died."
"No." Elias's gaze was steady. "It doesn't want me dead."
Lily swallowed. "Then what does it want?"
Elias looked toward the place where the shadow had retreated.
"To see if I'm strong enough," he said.
"To open the box?"
"No."
Lily frowned. "Then what?"
Elias took a breath.
"To open myself."
Lily shivered violently.
"That thing," Elias whispered, "wasn't testing my magic."
"Then what?"
"My will."
He turned toward home.
Lily followed him silently through the woods, trembling but steadfast.
Something else had shifted tonight.
Not just in Elias.
Not just in the presence.
But in the world itself.
The door had moved.
And it wasn't done.