🎄 Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, everyone! 🎄
To celebrate, I'll be releasing 11 chapters today, dropping one chapter every hour. Consider it my Christmas gift to all of you 🎁
If you're enjoying the story and want early access consider supporting me on P@treon (blaze98). Your support directly helps me write faster and consistently—especially for big release days like this ❤️
Thank you all for reading and supporting the journey.Enjoy the chapters!
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The spell wore off quickly.
Matron Porter was the first to stir, blinking as though waking from a nap she didn't remember taking. The younger children woke one by one, yawning, stretching, and wandering off toward playground as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
Because to them?
Nothing had.
The Memory Charms ensured the last hour had simply not existed.
Life in St. Mary's returned to normal.
Or… almost normal.
Blake and I slipped away the moment the matron turned her back, racing up the narrow metal ladder that led to our favorite place—the flat, dusty rooftop overlooking the city.
Evening shadows stretched across the tiles. A cool breeze rustled the clotheslines. Streetlamps flickered to life below.
But neither of us cared.
We were too full of adrenaline.
Too full of wonder.
Too full of magic.
We sat cross-legged under the open sky and talked.
And talked.
And talked.
Mostly Blake talked—words pouring out of her faster than the wind could carry them.
"Did you see how they fixed everything?"
"And that blue spell—Somnus—it just made everyone drop!"
"And when the books flew back onto the shelves! It was like—like magnets but FLOATING!"
"And Kingsley's wand—it wasn't even touching anything!"
"And the way they disappeared—POP—like bubbles bursting!"
Her hands swung wildly as she spoke, acting out every detail.
I nodded, smiling faintly.
Watching her excitement made something warm flicker in my chest.
Blake continued breathlessly—
"And the memory thing—Obli—Obli-via-ate? That one scared me a bit. Imagine just… losing a whole hour! Gone! Poof!" She shivered. "But still—that was magic. Real magic!"
She leaned closer, eyes shining like silver under the moonlight.
"We're witches and wizards, Alastair. Can you believe that? WE'RE MAGIC."
My throat tightened.
"I can believe it," I murmured, "but seeing it… that's different."
We replayed every moment—every spark, every spell, every flick of Kingsley's wand—until the sky darkened completely and stars blinked into existence above us.
The night wrapped around us in a soft, quiet blanket.
Our voices softened.
Our excitement turned into whispers.
At some point, words faded into drowsy murmurs.
Blake's head slid onto my shoulder.
My head leaned gently against hers.
And under the moonlit sky, with the chill wind swirling around us, we both fell asleep smiling.
"ALASTAIR! BLAKE!"
The harsh voice shattered the peaceful morning like a hammer on glass.
We jerked awake at the same time—Blake snapping upright, hair sticking up wildly;me blinking blearily as sunlight stabbed my eyes.
Matron Porter stood in front of us on the rooftop, hands on her hips, face thunderous.
"What on EARTH do you two think you're doing sleeping outside in the cold?! You could have frozen! You could have caught pneumonia! You—"
Then she paused.Her eyes narrowed.
Blake and I exchanged a glance.
…We didn't feel cold.
Not even a little.
Our skin was warm.
Our fingers comfortable.
Our breath steady.
Matron continued scolding, marching us toward the ladder.
"You two will be the death of me. Of all the irresponsible—sleeping outdoors like stray cats—good heavens—"
But Blake whispered as we followed her:
"Al… why didn't we feel the cold?"
"Maybe our magic protected us."
After climbing down from the terrace, Matron Porter marched us to our rooms with strict instructions to wash up and "stop behaving like rooftop pigeons."Blake and I exchanged sheepish grins, then separated to our own little corners of the orphanage.
I washed quickly—splashing cold water on my face, scrubbing the dust from my hands—and finally sat down on my bed.For the first time since my memories returned, I had a moment alone.
The morning sunlight slanted across the room, dust motes drifting lazily in the beam. The orphanage was waking up—children chattering, footsteps down the hallway, someone complaining about oatmeal again.
But all of that faded as I lifted the silver locket from beneath my shirt.
The metal was warm. Comforting. Familiar in a way that made my chest tighten.
I traced the edges with my thumb.
"Mom…"My voice broke at the whisper.
"I'll be strong, don't worry."My eyes blurred.
"I'll find those who hurt you."Heat flooded my chest—anger and grief mixing until I could barely breathe.
For the first time since remembering everything, I let myself feel it.The weight.The loss.The promise.
A single tear slid down my cheek.
I wiped it quickly.
That was when—
Knock. Knock.
I stiffened.
My first instinct was panic—Aurors again? Ministry follow-up? But Blake's voice came muffled through the door:
"Al? Someone's here to see us! Hurry!"
Her tone wasn't scared this time.
It was excited.
Hopeful.
I took a deep breath, tucked the locket back under my shirt, and stood.No more tears.Not in front of Blake.Not in front of anyone.
I quickly straightened my clothes and stepped into the hallway.
Blake grabbed my wrist the second she saw me.
"You won't BELIEVE who—"
Her words choked off as we turned the corner.
I froze.
An old man stood near the matron's office, talking quietly with her. He wore a tailored charcoal suit—not robes—but the air around him thrummed with unmistakable magic. Half-moon glasses perched on his nose. A silver beard flowed neatly to his chest. His posture was relaxed, almost gentle, but his gaze…
His gaze pierced straight through me.
Wise.
Ancient.
Knowing.
Albus Dumbledore.
Headmaster of Hogwarts.
The most powerful wizard of the age.
The man who had seen centuries of magic.
The man in whose school I would spend the next seven years.