Snow had begun to fall over the Hogwarts grounds, blanketing the castle's stone ledges and towers in white. Enchanted wreaths hung in the corridors, mistletoe floated subtly over archways, and warm candles flickered against frost-kissed windows. In the Great Hall, the ceiling shimmered with an illusion of a winter sky—silver stars flickering, heavy clouds drifting slowly by, and occasionally a streak of light like a shooting star.
But tonight, even the enchanted sky could not replicate what had occurred above Hogwarts the evening before.
A strange celestial shimmer had passed over the Forbidden Forest—neither comet nor starfall. Professors had brushed it off as "an atmospheric ripple," but whispers had grown in the common rooms. Astronomy students were still talking about it, wondering aloud about the constellation shift that Professor Sinistra mentioned with an unusual look of unease.
Elise had seen it too.
He'd been standing near the edge of the Black Lake, his breath curling in the cold night, when the sky briefly turned a shade of violet unnatural to earthly hues. It wasn't just light—it was…presence. And for a moment, it felt as if something had looked back.
Now, sitting in the Gryffindor common room near a crackling fire, Elise mulled over the incident. He hadn't told anyone—not Hermione, not Harry, not even the system. Some things felt too big for words.
[SYSTEM MESSAGE: Passive resonance detected. Unknown magical frequency logged.]
[FATE POINTS +5: Witnessed Interdimensional Anomaly]
The System was quiet otherwise. No commentary, no theory. Just an observation. Elise filed it away, silently purchasing an upgrade in mental shielding—Occlumency Level 1 had already helped him organize his thoughts, but lately he felt his dreams brushing too close to truths he wasn't ready to face.
The next day, Hogwarts bustled with holiday cheer. Flitwick—yes, Professor Flitwick, not Flatbeak—had just charmed the trees in his classroom to shake off snow and sing carols. Even the suits of armor had begun humming "God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs" as they clanked about the halls.
In the library, Hermione scribbled furiously into her notes for Ancient Runes—not a first-year subject, but something she studied on her own. Elise passed her table and gave her a small nod. Their relationship had changed subtly. After the Troll incident, after the trust earned, there was a quiet recognition between them. Not friendship—not yet—but respect.
"Do you believe in extraterrestrial magic?" Hermione asked suddenly, without looking up.
Elise paused. "What makes you ask that?"
"I saw something…odd in the sky a few nights ago. I measured the star pattern shift. Sinistra dismissed it, but it wasn't normal." She finally looked up, eyes sharp. "You're quiet about things. Observant. Did you see it?"
Elise gave a slow nod.
Hermione didn't press further. "I think there are forces even Hogwarts doesn't understand. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try."
She returned to her reading, and Elise walked away with a strange feeling curling in his chest—not just curiosity, but a kinship in inquiry.
Later that evening, the students gathered for the pre-holiday feast. Tables overflowed with roasted meats, puddings, and warm butterbeer. Fred and George enchanted snowflakes to fall only over Ron's head. Peeves turned the gravy into glitter, earning a scolding from McGonagall.
Dumbledore watched from the High Table, his twinkling eyes scanning the crowd. He saw Elise quietly smiling with the others and leaned slightly toward McGonagall.
"He's adapting well," he said quietly.
Minerva nodded. "Remarkably so, considering the letters."
Dumbledore's eyes glinted. "Sometimes, resilience grows best in strange soil."
But the peaceful warmth didn't extend to the sky above. As the feast wound down and students returned to their dorms, the enchanted ceiling remained stubbornly clear—too clear. A single streak of indigo light traced the sky again, almost invisible, but Elise saw it. So did Professor Sinistra, who stood alone on the Astronomy Tower, whispering a spell long forgotten.
Far, far above, in the coldness of space no broom could reach, a ripple stirred in dimensions unseen.
And far below, Elise dreamed—not of home, not of Hogwarts, but of a light in the void that whispered in a language older than the stars.
A few days before Christmas break, just as the last charms class ended, Professor McGonagall clapped her hands sharply, gathering attention as the students began to rise.
"Before you leave," she announced, "I need to know who among you will be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. The staff need to prepare the dormitories and meals accordingly."
A few students shifted uncomfortably. Ron Weasley looked hopeful, but his brothers immediately elbowed him. Hermione raised her hand to stay. Harry hesitated.
Elise didn't.
"I'll be going home, Professor," he said calmly.
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, as though briefly surprised. She gave him a short nod. "Very well, Mr. Blake ."
As the students filed out, Elise felt the tension building in his stomach. The last time he had seen his father—his real father—they had parted in quiet contempt, both too proud and too controlled to let the anger erupt in full. But things had changed. Power had changed. Elise had changed.