A single owl slipped quietly through the open window of the Slytherin Common Room and settled on the back of an empty chair, as though it carried nothing of consequence. There was no ornate seal, no sign of status or influence—only a plain piece of parchment tied neatly to its leg.
Yet the moment Helios untied the message and unrolled it, the stillness in his expression sharpened into focus. His eyes moved steadily across the words, weighing every line with care.
Albert Hemlock had replied.
The message itself was brief—deliberately so.
He offered help, but not from his own place. Helios was to choose the location and the time, then inform him. Everything required would be brought. Helios would not need to procure anything. It was, as Hemlock phrased it, a repayment—for his help.
Helios folded the parchment, his thoughts already moving ahead of the moment. A faint smile formed at the corner of his lips, subtle enough that anyone watching might have missed it entirely.
"Good," he murmured under his breath.
Everything was aligning exactly as it needed to.
He did not allow himself the luxury of lingering on the success. Timing was too important, and hesitation could unravel even the most carefully laid plans. Acting immediately was not simply a preference—it was necessity.
His gaze shifted across the common room until it settled on Daphne Greengrass.
She sat at one of the long tables with Tracy Davis, a book open before her. At first glance, she appeared absorbed in her work, her posture composed and her expression cold, but there was a tension beneath it. Tracy, on the other hand, made no effort to appear engaged at all. She leaned back slightly in her chair, her attention drifting more toward the room than the pages in front of her.
It was Tracy who noticed him first.
Her eyes lifted as he approached, and the smile that curved her lips was not one of politeness or amusement. It was sharper than that—she had already begun drawing conclusions she had no right to make.
Helios dismissed it without acknowledgment.
"Daphne," he said, his tone even.
"I need to speak with you."
Daphne looked up immediately. There was no hesitation, no question of whether she should respond. Whatever she had been reading was forgotten in an instant.
"Of course."
She stood at once and followed him a short distance away, far enough to ensure privacy, though not so far as to draw unnecessary attention. When they stopped, she turned to face him, and the composure she had maintained moments ago gave way to something far more revealing.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice controlled, but threaded with anticipation—and beneath that, anxiety.
Helios did not waste time with preamble.
"I can help you."
Daphne stilled completely, as though the world itself had paused for a heartbeat. Then her expression shifted, the restraint cracking just enough to reveal what lay beneath—relief, fragile and sudden, followed quickly by hope, and beneath it all, a desperation she had been holding in check for far too long.
"Everything is ready?" she asked, the question coming faster than she intended.
Helios inclined his head slightly. "The person I contacted has agreed."
She exhaled, a breath she had not realized she had been holding, but the relief did not fully settle.
"I need your father's influence," he said, meeting her gaze directly.
She blinked, caught off guard for a moment. "For what?"
"To take us out of Hogwarts for a day," Helios replied. "You, your sister, and me."
Daphne Greengrass was not naive; she understood what it meant to request such a thing, and the attention it might draw.
Then, just as quickly, her resolve settled.
"I can arrange that," she said without hesitation, the certainty in her voice immediate and unshaken. "I'll write to my father today."
She turned as though to leave at once, urgency already guiding her steps, but Helios's voice stopped her.
"Daphne."
She looked back.
"This is not something you discuss," he said quietly. "Not with your friends. Not with anyone."
For a moment, something flickered in her expression—awareness, perhaps, of exactly who he was referring to. Then she nodded.
"I understand."
This time, when she left, there was no restraint in her movements.
Across the room, Tracy Davis had been watching the entire exchange.
Her fingers tapped idly against the edge of her book as Daphne returned, her energy noticeably different now—quicker, brighter, impossible to miss. Tracy leaned back slightly in her chair, her eyes narrowing just enough to sharpen her focus.
"What did he say?" she asked casually.
Daphne hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, before shaking her head.
"Nothing important."
Tracy's brow lifted, her expression unchanged, though her smile lingered.
"Of course," she said lightly.
She did not believe it.
Not even for a moment.
The reply came the very next day.
Daphne sought him out almost immediately, her composure barely containing the excitement she carried.
"It's done," she said, placing a letter into his hand.
Helios looked up from the book he had been reading, his attention shifting fully to her. "Already?"
"My father spoke to the Headmaster," she explained quickly. "We have permission. Next Sunday.".
"Good," Helios said, folding the letter again. "I'll inform him."
That same night, another owl departed from Hogwarts, carrying a single, simple message.
Next Sunday. Prepare.
From that moment onward, the atmosphere shifted.
Daphne Greengrass became a constant presence.
She sought Helios out at every opportunity—between classes, during meals, along the corridors when the castle grew quiet. Her questions came relentlessly, one after another, driven by a need she could no longer suppress.
"What exactly will happen during the ritual?"
"Is it dangerous?"
"Will it hurt her?"
"What kind of magic is required?"
"Is it ancient magic? Dark magic?"
"Can it fail?"
Helios answered only what was necessary. Too much information would not help her—it would only make things worse.
One evening, as they walked through an empty corridor lit by flickering torches, Daphne's patience finally began to fray.
"But it's my sister," she insisted, her voice tighter now, more emotional than before. "I need to know what's going to happen to her."
Helios stopped and turned to face her fully.
For a moment, he said nothing, studying her as though weighing how much truth she could bear.
"You need to trust that she'll survive," he said at last.
The bluntness of it struck harder than any reassurance.
Daphne stared at him, searching his expression for something more—for certainty, for anything beyond those words.
"…She will survive, right?" she asked quietly.
Helios held her gaze, and after a brief pause, he nodded once.
"Yes."
But it was enough.
For now.
They were not the only ones who noticed the change.
Across the Great Hall, in corridors between classes, in the subtle pauses between conversations—eyes followed them.
Among them, Rose Potter watched most closely.
At first, it was nothing more than passing attention—a glance, a moment of curiosity. But as the days passed and Daphne's presence beside Helios became constant, something else began to take shape.
Something unsettled.
Because Daphne was always there.
Always speaking to him.
And Helios did not push her away.
That, more than anything else, was what mattered.
One evening in the Gryffindor common room, Rose sat with Hermione, her attention drifting once again toward where Helios stood across the hall, Daphne beside him.
Hermione noticed.
"You've been staring at them for the past five minutes," she said calmly.
Rose blinked, looking away. "I haven't."
"You have," Hermione replied, raising an eyebrow. "And you don't like it."
"I just think it's strange," Rose said after a moment, her tone defensive despite herself.
"Strange?"
"They're suddenly… close," she admitted, glancing back despite her effort not to. "…too close."
Hermione followed her gaze, studying the interaction for a moment before turning back.
"You trust him, don't you?"
Rose hesitated.
"…Yes."
"Then what's the problem?"
Rose didn't answer immediately. The problem wasn't something she could easily put into words, and the more she tried, the less clear it seemed.
"I don't know," she said finally. "I just… don't like it."
Hermione regarded her quietly, then spoke with simple certainty.
"You're jealous."
Rose turned sharply. "I am not."
"You are."
"I'm not."
Hermione didn't argue further.
The days that followed should have been spent in quiet preparation.
Instead, they were thrown into disorder.
It began with an announcement that spread through Hogwarts faster than any whisper ever could. By the end of the day, every student knew the name that now carried authority over the castle in ways no one had expected.
Professor Dolores Umbridge had been appointed High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.
At first, it seemed like little more than another Ministry interference, something inconvenient but manageable. That illusion did not last long.
Within days, her presence began to press down upon the castle like a suffocating weight. Educational decrees appeared one after another, pinned to the walls with deliberate visibility, each one stripping away a piece of the school's autonomy. Study clubs were disbanded. Student gatherings were restricted. Quidditch—one of the few freedoms left untouched—was placed under scrutiny, its future uncertain under her authority.
And it did not stop there.
Professors found their decisions questioned, their lessons observed, their authority quietly undermined. Even the Headmaster himself—Albus Dumbledore—was no longer beyond her reach. She did not confront him openly. She did not need to. Instead, she eroded his influence piece by piece, replacing it with her own.
Helios watched it all unfold with calm detachment, though his mind worked constantly beneath the surface. He did not need to guess at Umbridge's intentions; they were painfully obvious. This was about control—about ensuring that every decision within Hogwarts passed through her hands.
Which meant—
There was no chance she would allow them to leave.
"You're certain?" Daphne asked, her voice low as they stood in an empty corridor, far from listening ears.
Helios leaned lightly against the stone wall, arms crossed, his expression composed. "If we ask for permission again, it won't come from Dumbledore," he said. "It will come from her."
Daphne did not need to ask who her referred to.
"And she'll deny it?" Daphne pressed.
"Yes," Helios replied without hesitation. "Not because it's unreasonable—but because allowing it would mean acknowledging that Dumbledore's authority still holds weight."
Daphne exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. "Then what are we going to do?"
Helios met her gaze.
"We don't ask."
The simplicity of the answer caught her off guard.
"…What?"
"We leave anyway," he said calmly. "On Sunday."
For a moment, Daphne simply stared at him, processing the implication.
"You mean—" she began, lowering her voice further, "—sneak out of Hogwarts?"
"Yes."
Daphne's expression shifted, uncertainty warring briefly with desperation. Sneaking out of Hogwarts was not something she had ever seriously considered—not like this, not with stakes this high.
But then she thought of Astoria.
And the hesitation vanished.
"…Alright," she said quietly. "We do it your way."
Astoria Greengrass, on the other hand, reacted very differently when she was told.
"You're serious?" she asked, her pale face lighting up with a spark of excitement that had been absent for far too long.
Daphne frowned slightly. "Astoria, this isn't a game—"
"We're sneaking out of Hogwarts," Astoria interrupted, her voice carrying a rare energy. "Do you have any idea how illegal that is?"
Daphne blinked.
"That's exactly why—"
"That's brilliant."
Daphne stared at her younger sister, momentarily speechless.
Helios, standing nearby, observed the exchange without interruption. Astoria's condition had left her weak, her energy inconsistent, her days often overshadowed by quiet exhaustion—but moments like this revealed the mind beneath it all. Sharp. Curious. Unafraid.
And very much a Ravenclaw.
They had not told her the truth.
Not about the ritual.
Hope, if raised too early, could be dangerous.
So for now—
This was simply an adventure.
And Astoria embraced it fully.
Sunday arrived faster than any of them would have liked.
The castle was quieter than usual, the absence of weekend bustle replaced by a strange tension that lingered beneath the surface. Umbridge's presence had changed the rhythm of Hogwarts itself, turning even ordinary moments into something uncertain.
Helios moved through the corridors with practiced ease. Daphne stayed close, her composure steady despite the weight of what they were about to attempt. Astoria followed with surprising enthusiasm, her steps light despite her condition.
They did not take the main exits.
Instead, Helios led them through a series of lesser-used passages, corridors that twisted and narrowed as they descended deeper into the castle's structure.
At last, they reached it.
A hidden passageway, concealed behind stone and shadow, opening into a narrow tunnel that sloped downward into darkness.
Astoria's eyes widened slightly.
"This is real," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
Helios allowed himself the faintest hint of amusement. "Stay close."
The journey through the passage was not long, but it felt longer in the dim, enclosed space. The air grew cooler as they moved, the silence broken only by the sound of their footsteps against the uneven ground.
Then, at last—
Light.
They emerged into the basement of a small bookstore in Hogsmeade, the faint scent of ink and parchments lingering in the air. The contrast from the cold stone passage was almost jarring.
Astoria took a slow breath, looking around with quiet fascination. "This is incredible…"
Helios did not linger.
"Come," he said.
They moved upward, stepping into the shop itself—and there, waiting near the counter, stood Mr. Greengrass.
He had arrived ahead of them.
His expression remained composed, though his eyes flickered briefly toward Astoria, assessing, measuring—as though reassuring himself she had made the journey safely.
When his gaze shifted to Helios, there was a silent question there.
Helios answered it with a simple nod.
"Shall we go?"
Mr. Greengrass inclined his head once.
Even he did not know where they were going.
The Hog's Head was nearly empty when they arrived.
The establishment had never been known for its crowds, and at this hour, it felt even more abandoned than usual. The dim lighting, the worn furniture, the faint smell of stale drink—it all contributed to an atmosphere of quiet isolation.
Perfect for what they needed.
Helios stepped toward the fireplace without hesitation, reaching for the small container of Floo powder resting nearby. He took a handful, his movements steady, controlled.
Helios threw the powder into the fire.
Green flames roared to life instantly, illuminating the room with an unnatural glow.
He stepped forward.
"Black Manor."
And then—
He was gone.
The sensation of the Floo was brief, disorienting only for a moment before it released him into solid ground once more.
One by one, the others emerged from the flames—Mr. Greengrass, Astoria, and finally Daphne, who stumbled slightly before regaining her balance, her eyes immediately widening at the sight before her.
A Muggle television flickered softly in one corner, casting moving light across the room, and the faint hum of its sound filled the silence.
And seated before it—
Was Sirius Black.
The most wanted man in wizarding Britain.
Dressed in a simple pair of shorts and a T-shirt that bore the bold, unmistakable words:
World Peace.
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