Watching the Threads
Hazel sat in a ricker, her eyes never leaving Dumbledore's. As soon as her bottom touched the golden seat cushion the ricker leaned back into a reclining position to allow her to settle in then repositioned to her exact mental commands. She ended up elevated with the cushions deepening and the armrest circling to surround her the plushness of the fabric.
Dumbledore watched in detached amusement. As Hazel's eyes roamed the circular room. It was not her first time here but it still amazed her thar he could collect so many things, her eyes ended, and probably lingered too long, on his pensieve.
Dumbledore's eyes turned to it as well. "Soon such things as that will mean nothing to you. I feel your abilities will far surpass such things."
She didn't respond and the silence stretched between them as she thought about what she exactly wanted to say.
"After I found out Harry was chosen I performed a divination. I saw, not connected to the incident but to the person who placed Harry's name, a shadow pulled from you, swirled about the Goblet of fire then seemed to rush at Harry's name and consume it.
"It is someone you know Dumbledore but they are hidden as well. There are things going on, in your own school, that you don't know about. Deeply layered things."
As Hazel spoke she felt the anger rise within Dumbledore grow, she also saw his eyes continually flick to Shylah.
"Do not worry about Shylah. She is my protector but Fawkes actually neutralizes her. They planned it this way.
"I mean no disrespect and I am not trying to cause problems. It is just the truth."
"Young lady. Coming to a wizard as you have is nothing but disrespect. You barged into my office, my home, you neutralize my companion, and then you accuse me of being duplicitous in one of my students being put in harms way."
The more he spoke the more ominous he became and the more thunder sounded within the room.
Hazel did flinch. She was Minerva McGonagall's daughter, she had seen worse.
The room calmed as silence stretched between them again.
"Allow me to view your vision. We will see what we can see."
Again silence stretched between them. Hazel tilted her head and pulled out her ebony wood wand. Dumbledore looked at it with interest. She did not take her eyes from his when she spoke one word, a name.
"Shylah."
The star bird's call was a single note but reverberated off of every surface as if it sought all things out just to touch one time. Hazel traced a delicate pattern in the air. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.
He had never seen the sigil before.
There was a soft blue spark and a screen unfurled before them. It wavered like a lake that just had a rock thrown into it and when it calmed the scenes from her divination about the Goblet of fire played out.
Dumbledore sat forward in his seat just as Hazel relaxed into hers.
Once it finished Dumbledore sat back I to his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"I see what you mean." He looked up to the projection and back to Hazel. "You should do a divination here as well. Help us to hunt this person. Perhaps Sybil can help." He looked at her with an honest question in his face.
She had been wanting to talk with Professor Sybil Trelaweny for some time so she nodded and stood.
"I will contact you when I am ready sir."
Dumbledore nodded. "You are truly an extraordinary witch Hazel. Truly extraordinary."
She didn't respond, Shylah and Fawkes let out calls at the same time and another portal shaped like a ring of fire opened up. Shylah landed on her shoulder and she stepped through the portal without hesitation.
The next morning Hazel leaned against the cold stone wall just outside Sof House, feeling the rough texture press into her back. The chameleon potion Marcelle had brewed tingled along her arms, a liquid-metal sensation that made her skin feel alive, shimmering with a faint silver pulse. Her eyes were fixed on the entrance, waiting for Rosa to appear. Shadows of the morning sun stretched across the polished floors, dancing along the banners swaying slightly above. Each distant footstep made her heart skip, each squeak of shoes against stone sharper than the last.
*Ping* Her mental link buzzed. Marcel and Evervine were in position. Relief washed over her for a brief second—but tension lingered like a heavy cloak.
Hazel adjusted her stance, curling slightly behind the pillar nearest the entrance. Rosa appeared, brushing a strand of hair from her face, her hand brushing the shoulder of a boy standing nearby. Hazel's pulse quickened—every gesture mattered. The girl whispered something, subtle, a movement Hazel had to strain to catch.
"She's meeting someone… over by the library wing," Hazel sent through the mental link.
"Got it," Evervine replied, a tinge of frustration in her voice. "But I can't see much from here. This potion lab smells like crushed herbs and simmering magic—hard to concentrate."
Marcel's voice chimed in softly. "Timothy's movements are too precise. There's something off… maybe it's enchantment control."
Evervine crouched closer to the counter, eyes scanning the swirl of magical ingredients Temperance was handling. Each stir of the cauldron, each adjustment of powder and herb was deliberate. Evervine's frustration grew—she wanted to intervene, to understand, but the potion lab restricted her movements.
Meanwhile, Marcel crouched at the edge of the dueling yard, sunlight beating down. He flexed his fingers and felt the subtle shimmer of the chameleon potion on his skin. Timothy moved across the stone floor, casting incantations with perfect rhythm, footwork precise. Marcel noted the irregularity in the cadence, the faint flicker of magical energy that didn't belong.
"I can't even go into a potions lab," Evervine muttered through the link. "Why would I go in there? She's getting ingredients, I can't do anything."
"And I'm in the open in the dueling yard with nothing to blend into," Marcel replied. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do right now."
Hazel exhaled slowly. "She's whispering… it's coordinated. Someone else is involved."
The three of them paused, each lost in observation and frustration, when Hazel spoke again. "The potion works near walls, but open fields? Not so much."
Marcel tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Layer it. Add a reflective shimmer—sunlight could make you nearly invisible even in open spaces."
Evervine's eyes narrowed. "Shadows are still a problem. Maybe the shimmer can blend with shade somehow?"
Hazel pressed her palm to the cold pillar, watching the potion respond, the shimmer rippling subtly across her skin. Evervine flexed her fingers, imagining a potion in motion, a perfect combination of concealment and light reflection. Marcel nodded slowly, plotting adjustments and improvements.
Finally, Hazel sent the plan through the mental link. "We switch targets. Marcel follows Temperance—he can help if needed and understand the potions better. Evervine follows Timothy—she's better suited to the dueling yard. I'll stick with Rosa."
Agreement came through immediately, quick pings of resolve. The tension eased, though not completely. Stakes were still high; observation was only the first step.
Hazel watched Rosa's hand gesture toward a hidden corner—a secret rendezvous forming. Evervine noted Timothy's incantation flicker unexpectedly, the shimmer of enchantment subtly altered. Marcel quietly calculated ways to intervene safely without giving away their presence.
The morning light shifted into the softer tones of afternoon. Hazel adjusted her stance, the chameleon potion responding to the dimming light, and slowly they retreated from their positions. The mental link quieted, leaving their minds buzzing with observations and possibilities.
Tomorrow would bring more action. Today, they had watched, learned, and begun to understand the threads weaving through Sof House. And tomorrow, the threads would guide them to new discoveries.