At first there was only darkness.
Solid, comforting, all-encompassing darkness.
A stillness so vast it might have been eternity.
Then - motion. Not outside, but within.
A flicker, a tremor, a pulse: I... I am.
The thought had no words, only a swelling of presence, a ripple across the dim silence. Vision seeped into him like dawn through heavy curtains. Shapes - uncertain, blurred - floated across the shadowed place. The curve of a pale oval wall, the faint shimmer of light bending on its surface. He understood nothing, yet fragments pressed at the edges of his mind: vessel, protection, womb.
He looked - no, felt - downward. Limbs, small and fragile, suspended. Fingers curled like sleeping creatures. A body that was his, though he had only just learned the word his.
Awareness layered upon awareness. I am.
The walls hummed faintly. Something beyond the glass moved. A shadow? A presence? He strained toward it, slow as thought in water, until his gaze caught the suggestion of a figure on the other side.
A man stood there.
An old man, with lightly tanned skin and short, warm brown curls that gleamed beneath the pale light. His eyes were an enchanting lilac, glowing with a strange inner radiance. He wore black trousers and a violet dress shirt beneath a dark vest, the ensemble half-hidden under a long white coat that trailed to his knees.
He looked frightened. Surprise, disbelief, and something like joy tore through his expression all at once. A bubbling flask slipped from his unsteady hand, shattering on the floor, but he didn't even flinch.
With trembling steps, he approached the glass. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, his breath hitching in broken sobs. He pressed his forehead and palms against the barrier as though terrified it might vanish if he let go. His eyes fixed upon the fragile form floating before him - on me - with an emotion he had no name for.
Then came pain.
Blinding, unbearable pain, burning from within and without, shredding body and mind alike. Through the haze, he saw the man's expression twist into terror and despair. He tore open the buttons of his shirt, exposing the skin of his chest, and drew a slender wand from his coat pocket. With a single, deliberate motion, he dragged it across his sternum. The flesh parted, revealing bone and the faint gleam of something buried there - a small, perfectly cut amethyst.
He touched the wand to the gem. It shuddered and tore free from his chest in a surge of blinding light. The man gasped, face contorted in agony, sweat pouring down his temples. The amethyst hovered before him, pulsing in the same color as his eyes. He reached out, and the glow shifted to red - its light flowing into him, leaving the stone cool and blue.
With a trembling hand, he guided it forward. The gem drifted through the glass as if it weren't there, crossing into the dark chamber. Blue light flooded the space, chasing away the pain, washing over everything in soft, shimmering radiance.
The man collapsed to his knees. Relief broke across his face; he was smiling now, openly sobbing, his shoulders shaking as tears hit the floor. His eyes were brown.
And then it began.
A surge in his chest, unfamiliar and consuming, bubbling upward like fire made liquid. Terror, wonder, ache - all tangled in the same impossible burst.
The imprint of memory whispered the word to him, gentle and undeniable:
Love.
The blue dissolved into darkness.
The dream ended.
-~=~-
Gabriel woke up expecting to be surrounded by liquid.
Instead, as awareness returned, he found himself staring at the dark stone ceiling of his room in Ravenclaw Tower. His bed - already resized three times since he'd started growing - was practically bare, the sheets and pillows strewn across the floor from another restless night.
He blinked, disoriented, then glanced up at the black ceiling. Tiny glowing specks shimmered overhead, a project he's gotten into back in the boredness of his first year when the classes he cared about had stopped advancing so that the slowest students could catch up, a charm meant to - poorly - mimic the enchanted sky of the Great Hall. He took a deep breath, the cool morning air sticking to his sweat-damp skin, and tried to ignore the clammy heaviness that clung to him.
He shut his eyes again, willing sleep to return, but old habits - days, and days, and days of his mother's merciless training sessions at dawn - had long since made that impossible.
With a sigh so deep it seemed to come from his bones, Gabriel swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. His feet hit the cold stone floor as he crossed the room, stepping over scattered books, notes, and transfigured knickknacks. He grabbed his wand by reflex, then unlatched the window.
A rush of winter air burst in, biting his skin and making his teeth chatter.
"Blauflammer," he murmured.
From the tip of his wand flowed a ribbon of brilliant blue fire. It circled him like a living serpent, radiating warmth without burning, its gentle glow painting his skin in shades of sapphire.
He leaned against the window frame, peering out into the night. The sky was still dark, the grounds silvered by moonlight and the shimmer of distant stars.
"The lake looks really beautiful right now…" he murmured.
And it did. The Black Lake stretched beneath him, still and glassy, reflecting the heavens so perfectly it seemed the stars had fallen and settled upon its surface.
Gabriel yawned, gave his bed a regretful glance, and trudged toward the shower.
The small bathroom was carved from smooth grey stone, accented in bronze. The walls were lined with delicate mosaics of soaring eagles, their wings spreading toward the enchanted ceiling that rippled like the sky beyond the Tower's windows. Even the faucets were shaped like beaks, pouring clear streams of steaming water.
Gabriel groaned as the first rush of hot water struck his skin, rolling down his shoulders and chest in rivulets. His hair - thick as wire and stubbornly coarse from his giant's blood - barely yielded to it. He scrubbed himself down with a loofah, working away the sweat and tension until the point he expected his skin to turn red had he been someone else.
The Bluebell Flames still circled him lazily, unaffected by the cascade of water, burning bright and steady.
When he was done, he stepped out, drying himself with a flick of his wand before pulling on a towel. Steam trailed behind him as he crossed back into his room, opening the wardrobe and tugging out his workout clothes. He tossed them onto the unmade bed with a huff.
Gabriel paused before the mirror.
He was sure he looked taller than yesterday - again. It wouldn't be long before he'd have to resize the bed once more. The last of his boyish roundness had vanished months ago; what remained was a layer of bulk over corded strength, muscle moving easily under skin that bore the faint gleam of vitality too steady to be entirely human. It wasn't a body that belonged to a twelve year old.
His gaze flicked to his reflection - and, inevitably, to the dream.
'I'm a bit shorter,' he thought, studying his frame. 'Skin's about the same…'
He ran a hand down his forearm, pausing when his eyes caught the black scars that marred the backs of his hands. He looked away quickly, unwilling to linger.
Leaning closer to the mirror, he traced his jawline with a black-nailed finger. 'My face is squarer,' he mused. He brushed his curls back and sighed. 'Different color now. I think mine was lighter. But both are curly, right?'
He tugged at a lock of hair, pulling it down to eye level before letting it spring back. Then, half-smiling, he tried to mirror the expression from the dream - the smile of that man beyond the glass.
But it was wrong. His reflection bared fangs instead of neat teeth. The grin slipped away.
Gabriel's eyes met his own in the mirror.
'They were the same… weren't they?'
He couldn't quite remember anymore. It had been over a year, and the memories had started to fray at the edges. He was sure his eyes were the same as that of the man - Saint Germain, Dumbledore called him. Warm brown - like the wooden door of his home in Brazil, or melted chocolate, or the wet earth after rain.
Now…
"It's just white," he whispered.
He blinked.
The irises of his reflection glowed, pale as the moon, while the sclera around them had turned black.
Gabriel's breath caught.
For one heartbeat, the world was still.
And on the next, his fist went clean through the glass.
-~=~-
Twenty minutes and a few cleaning charms later, Gabriel was stepping out of his room wearing baggy black pants, sport shoes that pinched slightly at the toes, and a loose sleeveless shirt. His left arm was wrapped in neat bandages transfigured from pieces of parchment.
"I've got to learn some healing spells," he muttered, flexing his arm and tsking at the tug of the makeshift wraps.
He started down the winding staircase from the second-year floor to the first, passing the spiraling stairwell lined with brass lanterns and archways of enchanted blue stone. The air was crisp, filled with the faint scent of parchment and the ever-present hum of magic that clung to Ravenclaw Tower. Another staircase brought him from the first-year level into the Common Room.
The space was breathtaking even after more than a year of living there. The room was circular, ringed with tall, arched windows that opened onto dizzying views of the surrounding mountains and the endless sky beyond. The ceiling stretched high above, painted a deep midnight blue and charmed to resemble a slowly turning sky of stars.
Bronze and blue dominated everything - the silken drapes framing the windows, the shimmering carpets underfoot, the gleaming accents that caught the flicker of the fireplace. The walls were lined with shelves heavy with books, models of constellations, and delicate instruments of astronomy and alchemy that ticked, spun, or hummed softly of their own accord.
Over the fireplace, a marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood tall and serene, her stone gaze thoughtful, her false diadem glittering faintly in the firelight. Her expression seemed to shift with the light, sometimes pensive, sometimes amused, but always as if she were privately judging the room's occupants.
Two great sofas faced the hearth, surrounded by a scattering of armchairs and study desks where parchment, quills, and half-drunk cups of tea had been abandoned from last night's late study sessions. Near the far wall stood the enchanted bronze door, adorned with a great eagle knocker that gleamed in the flickering firelight.
Gabriel gave Rowena's statue a brief glance as he crossed the room, heading for the door. He was trying to remember which muscle groups he'd planned to train that morning when a small sound cut through the quiet.
A sniffle.
He stopped immediately.
Turning from the door, he followed the sound toward the fireplace. There, curled up on one of the blue velvet sofas, was a small, fragile-looking girl with silvery hair spilling over her shoulders like moonlight. She was hugging her knees to her chest, trembling, trying and failing to cry quietly.
"Luna?" Gabriel said softly, worry slipping into his voice.
The girl froze at once, as if the sound of her name had petrified her.
He approached carefully, lowering himself to one knee beside the sofa. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to do - whether to reach out, offer a hand, or simply stay close and let her know she wasn't alone.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
Luna took several shuddering breaths. Her crying faltered, then started again, three or four times before she managed to steady it enough to lift her face toward him.
Gabriel's heart sank. Her eyes were red and swollen, her nose running, her usually ethereal hair sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, and the sound of it seemed to hollow the air between them.
He frowned. "What? Why?"
"I l–lost your bo–book," she said between hiccuping breaths.
He blinked. "…Is that it?"
She nodded miserably.
"Luna, it's okay," he said, quick and sincere. "My mum's paranoid about that kind of thing - she probably has a hundred copies lying around somewhere. You don't need to cry over that, I promise."
His words seemed to calm her a little; her shoulders eased, her breathing slowed. But the sadness in her face didn't leave - it sat there, deep and unmoving. And the longer Gabriel looked, the less sense it made.
Luna Lovegood losing that book? Her mother's book? The one she read every day, carried everywhere, guarded like something sacred? He'd lent it to her months ago, but he'd meant it as a gift - something to keep, not return. And she must have known that at this point.
"Luna…" he said slowly.
Images flashed through his mind - Luna sitting cross-legged in the courtyard, reading that book between classes; Luna dashing from the Quidditch stands in the middle of a sudden downpour, clutching it under her cloak; Luna humming softly while turning its pages in the library's quiet corner.
She'd never lose it. Never.
"…You didn't lose it, did you?"
Her face twisted, and fresh tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she shook her head.
"Who did it?" Gabriel asked, his voice low and steady.
"The Nargles took it," she whispered, looking down, her small hands gripping her knees so tightly her knuckles turned white. "They took it while I was sleeping."
Gabriel frowned. "Luna… why were you sleeping outside your room?"
She didn't answer. Her shoulders hunched as if she were trying to make herself smaller.
Gabriel reached out, hesitated for a heartbeat, then gently cupped her cheek. His nails - he noticed absently - had grown sharp again, curved like small claws. The sight made something cold twist in his stomach.
"Luna," he said quietly, forcing gentleness into his voice. "Why?"
Her lower lip trembled. "I couldn't open the door. I'm sorry."
He drew in a slow breath through his nose. "Was it the Nargles who messed with your door too?"
She nodded, hesitant and ashamed.
Gabriel leaned back slightly, studying her face. "Luna… who are the Nargles?"
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she almost looked offended that he didn't know.
"They're little creatures," she said earnestly, brushing her sleeve across her face. "Tiny things that like to play tricks on people. They sneak into rooms through cracks or keyholes, steal things, tangle hair, hide shoes - sometimes they even move doors! You can't see them unless they want you to. Most people don't believe they're real, but they are."
Gabriel let out a long breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Alright," he said finally. "I can deal with the Nargles for you, Luna. I promise they won't bother you again. But I need to know where their nest is, okay?"
He hadn't expected her reaction. Luna lunged forward and threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly.
"They'll just start bothering you too!" she cried into his shoulder.
Gabriel hesitated only a second before returning the hug, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her slightly the way his mother used to do when he was small.
"They won't," he murmured. "Trust me."
She shook her head against him, sniffling hard.
Then an idea flickered in his mind. "Ah, right - you just reminded me! We have Nargles across the sea too, you know?"
Luna sniffled and looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Really?"
"Really. And you want to know a secret?"
She nodded, curious now.
"Giants eat them," he said solemnly. "Back home, I mean. And I'm part giant. So if any Nargles see me, they'll be so terrified they'll run for their tiny little lives."
Luna blinked at him, utterly unbothered. "You're not scary, silly."
Gabriel gasped in mock outrage. "Excuse me!? Have you looked at me? I'm the scariest thing in Hogwarts!"
He pulled back just enough to make a ridiculous snarl, baring his sharp teeth for effect.
Luna giggled - a soft, hiccupping sound, still wet with tears but lighter now. "You're like a Crup."
Gabriel groaned. "A Crup? Oh, come on! Couldn't you have said at least something cool, like a wolf? Or a lion?"
"I think that's the Gryffindors," she said, eyes twinkling faintly.
He clicked his tongue. "You're right."
Another small laugh escaped her. The tension between them loosened, replaced by the gentle warmth of the firelight and the quiet comfort of shared absurdity.
Gabriel smiled, reaching up to brush a few silver strands from her face and wipe away the tear tracks on her cheeks.
"Later today," he said softly, "I'll talk with Professor Flitwick, and we'll sort out the trouble with the Nargles. But I need to know where they made their nests, alright? So I can go and get our book back."
She bit her lip, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.
"Trust me, Luna," he said again, his voice steady and kind.
For a moment, she just stared at him, then sighed and let her head drop against his shoulder once more. He felt her breath warm against his collarbone.
When she finally spoke, it was barely more than a whisper.
"On the third floor."
He didn't answer her whisper, only nodded - a small motion she could feel against her cheek - and then rose, still holding her in his arms. Luna's grip tightened instinctively, as though she feared he might vanish if she let go.
Gabriel walked up the stairs, the castle silent around them. He stopped at the first floor and turned down a corridor lined with blue banners until he reached a door with her name engraved in delicate silver letters.
"Alohomora," he murmured.
The lock clicked open, the sound oddly loud in the still air. He felt the resistance of an overpowered 'Colloportus' attempting to do the work of a proper Locking Charm for all of a second before it broke.
The door creaked open, revealing Luna's room.
It was a chaos of wonder. Crystals dangled from the ceiling on bits of wire, scattering moonlight into ripples across the walls. Books were stacked in uneven towers that leaned against one another like sleepy sentinels. The bed was round, its quilt a patchwork of mismatched fabrics, and on the windowsill rested a collection of curious shells, feathers, and glittering stones. A few sketches fluttered on the wall, some clearly of creatures that didn't exist, others perhaps of people who did. The air smelled faintly of ink, lavender, and dust.
Gabriel set her down gently. She clung to him a heartbeat longer before forcing herself to step back.
"Go on," he said softly. "Take a bath, change into your pajamas, and get some rest, alright? I'll find the book and bring it back soon."
Luna nodded, but her eyes lingered on him, wide and unblinking. As he turned to leave, he could still feel her gaze on his back, and when he reached the stairway, he realized he hadn't heard her door close.
The warmth she'd left in his arms began to drain away as he climbed. By the time he reached the third floor, another kind of heat had taken hold - one that crawled beneath his skin and coiled tight in his chest. The image of her crying face burned behind his eyes, and his teeth pressed against his lip until he tasted metal. He could feel the faint ache in his jaw, the sting of fangs pushing against his gums, and the dull pulse of power behind his eyes.
He reached a random door on the boys' side of the circular dormitory and knocked three times - slowly.
Silence.
He knocked again.
After a pause came the rustle of sheets and a groggy voice. "Who's there?"
Gabriel knocked a third time, each thud harder than the last.
"All right, all right! I'm coming!" the voice muttered, followed by shuffling and a string of curses.
The door opened, revealing a blond-haired boy with sun-kissed skin and a sleep-creased face. His irritation melted into confusion, then horror.
"Y-you're-" he stammered, recognizing him.
Gabriel's expression didn't shift. "What's your name?"
"E-Eddie. Eddie Carmichael," the boy said quickly. "Do you- do you need something?"
"Eddie," Gabriel repeated, and something in the way he said the name made the boy flinch.
"You see, Eddie," he continued evenly, "there's a first-year I'm friends with. Her name's Luna Lovegood."
Eddie swallowed, his face tightening - he already knew where this was going.
"I just found out," Gabriel went on, his voice lowering into a growl, "that she's been bullied by someone - maybe more than one of your yearmates. Now, I'm not the sort of bloke who goes around acting violent for no reason, so I'll assume not all of you are part of this."
Eddie's head shook so fast it was almost a blur.
"No?" Gabriel said. "Good. Then it won't be a problem for you to tell me who stole the book I gave her. The one written by her dead mum."
The color drained from Eddie's face. "Hell no, mate - that's not on me, alright? That was Marietta and her lot, I-"
"Can you show me which room's hers?" Gabriel interrupted, calm as stone.
"Yeah- yeah, sure. It's the one that's got her na-"
A low, scraping sound cut him off. Gabriel dragged his claws slowly across the wooden frame of the door, carving deep, splintering grooves.
"Can you show me which room's hers?" he repeated, his voice quieter, darker.
Eddie's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Y-yeah."
He stepped out into the corridor, moving stiffly, and pointed toward the opposite side of the hall where another door gleamed with cursive gold letters spelling Marietta.
He glanced back for approval, but Gabriel only tilted his head, rolling one clawed hand in a gesture to continue.
Eddie nodded, trembling, and knocked on the door. "Marietta," he hissed, "hey, wake up-"
The door flew open. Marietta Edgecombe stood there, hair messy, irritation painted across her face. "What, Eddie? It's the middle of the-"
She stopped.
Gabriel stood a few steps behind him, one hand holding his wand, the other pressed to his lips in a soft shh.
Her breath caught. Eddie muttered something frantic under his breath, and she nodded quickly, eyes wide with realization.
Gabriel lowered his wand and stepped forward until his nose was nearly brushing hers. His voice was calm, steady, and far more dangerous than shouting.
"Good morning, Marietta," he said. "I heard you stole something that belonged to someone I care very much about."
She whimpered.
-~=~-
A few minutes later, it was over.
Gabriel stood at the far end of the corridor, the chill of the stones seeping through the soles of his shoes. In his hands were the spoils of his visit - Luna's book, along with a pair of rabbit-themed slippers, a pink hat dotted with ribbons, and a set of earrings shaped like tiny realistic moons that gleamed faintly in the dim torchlight. Behind him, Marietta Edgecombe's door was firmly shut. He doubted she'd be sleeping again today.
He expected to feel proud. He didn't. He also wasn't satisfied. Not angry anymore, either. Just... tired.
When he reached Luna's door again, he found it open. She'd bathed and changed, her hair damp and brushed smooth, but instead of pajamas she was dressed in a loose cardigan and soft trousers, like she was ready for a stroll under the stars.
"Hey," Gabriel said quietly. "Look what I found."
Her eyes went wide. The tears that had dried on her cheeks glittered anew - but this time, they were happy ones. She gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth before running forward and throwing her arms around him.
"Thank you," she whispered into his chest.
Gabriel huffed. "Don't mention it."
Luna took the items one by one with reverence - the book first, then the slippers, then the hat and earrings. She darted back inside to set them carefully on her desk, then returned and shut the door softly behind her.
"You should sleep now," he said, smiling faintly. "It's been a long night."
"I'm not sleepy," she replied with absolute seriousness.
He arched his brow. "You look sleepy."
She shook her head, a stubborn spark lighting her blue eyes. "Where were you going?"
"Training," he admitted.
"I want to go too."
Gabriel huffed a laugh. "It's freezing outside."
She pointed at the faint blue flame dancing along his forearm, the charm he used to keep warm during late runs. "You can keep me warm."
"I can," he said, amused, "but only if you're not far enough. You know, like when I'm running."
Luna frowned, her lips pursing as she thought that over. Then, with a tiny "oh!" of realization, she brightened, eyes shining with mischief.
"Then get on your knees," she said.
"What?"
"Get on your knees," she repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He sighed but crouched anyway, curiosity winning out. Before he could ask, she climbed onto his back, arms looping loosely around his neck.
Gabriel froze for a heartbeat. "You're not serious."
"I am."
He gave a short, incredulous laugh. "There's no way this is going to-"
She tightened her hug, chin resting on his shoulder.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. "I can't believe I'm actually going to do this."
But he did.
Under the pale light of the moon, Gabriel Moretti ran through the Hogwarts grounds, his steps soft and steady, the blue flame dancing them and illuminating the surroundings. Luna clung to his back, her laughter light and breathless at first - then slower, quieter.
By the time he finished his last set of laps, her head had fallen against his shoulder, her breathing even and calm.
And for the first time that night, Gabriel smiled an unrestrained smile as he carried her gently back up the stairs.
He did have to come back down to finish his training, though.