The underground training room smelled faintly of metal, dust, and chalky earth—the kind of air that came from years of sweat and discipline being poured into the space. The enchanted lights in the ceiling glowed softly, casting a golden warmth over the reinforced stone walls lined with training dummies, wards, and racks of wooden weapons.
I was hanging from the pull-up bar, every pull of my arms feeling like fire was ripping through my shoulders. My father, Desmond, was next to me, his arms flexing easily as he knocked out pull-up after pull-up like it was nothing.
I managed twenty-five, gritting my teeth as sweat rolled down my temple. He did one hundred, his movements smooth, controlled—effortless.
"Alright," he said finally, his voice steady as he dropped down to the mat below, not even breathing hard. "That's enough for today."
I let go, landing on my feet and wiping my face on my shirt sleeve. My arms ached, but the ache felt good.
I turned to him." Dad… where did Mom go?"
Desmond's face softened into one of those half-smiles that never quite told you what he was thinking. "She's visiting the Ministry," he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. "Something important came up."
He gave me a little grin. "But that doesn't mean you're off the hook. You still have to review your school material."
I groaned a little, only for him to smirk wider. "But… I know how far ahead you already are. So while you're with me…" He leaned down slightly, eyes glinting like we were sharing a secret. "We'll keep this self-study day to ourselves. Practical lessons. Fun ones."
I couldn't help smiling. "I like the sound of that." As we wiped down the equipment, I asked, "Dad, how did you meet Mom?" His smile deepened, a different smile—the kind of one you only wear when you're remembering something golden.
"Our families," he started, "have been allies for a long time. Generations back. Since your great-grandmother ran the Tesfaye family."
He grabbed a towel and sat on the low bench, the memory softening his normally stoic edges.
"So every so often, we'd have gatherings. Big ones. Tesfaye and Dawn family members in the same room—wine, food, negotiations, traditions. Your mom and I… we'd see each other at those."
I blinked, surprised. I realized that for all I knew about Mom's side, I knew next to nothing about his. "Dad," I asked cautiously, "did you go to Hogwarts?"
He chuckled, nodding. "Yes. But… not at first." He leaned back on the bench. "I transferred from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts in my second year. My father—your grandfather—moved us back when your great-grandparents fell sick. It's… not common, transferring like that."
I tilted my head. "So it's rare?" "Extremely," he admitted. "It happens from time to time, but transferring after the first year? Hogwarts almost never allows it."
I asked the question that had been sitting in my chest since he admitted he went to Hogwarts:
"What house were you in?"
His smile turned playful. "Hufflepuff."
I blinked, caught off guard. Somehow, it fit. "At Ilvermorny, though," he continued, "all the houses fought over me. I resonated with all of them. Do you know which one I chose?"
I paused, really thinking. "…I don't know," I admitted.
He smiled proudly, his chest swelling just a bit. "Thunderbird. Just like your wand." That made me grin. "That's amazing."
But curiosity was clawing at me now. "Dad," I said carefully, "is there anything… unique about your family? The Dawns?"
His face shifted. Stoic. Careful. "The Dawn family…" he began slowly, "isn't like the Tesfayes. We don't have… a signature magic. No bloodline spell like the Tesfaye Flames. We don't hold ancient relics like the Deathly Hallows."
He paused, then looked at me. "But there is a rumor." I leaned in. "What kind of rumor?" "That we," he said, voice low and even, "are descended from gods. Or so the whispers go."
I blinked, my mind immediately running wild. Descendants of gods? Was I some sort of demi-god legacy without even realizing it?
"Are gods real?" I asked.
Desmond didn't even hesitate. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I've read their stories. The Olympians, the Norse, the rest of them." He shook his head lightly. "They're guides… for what not to do. How not to rule. How not to treat the people under you."
Then he looked at me with a half-smirk. "Our family is known for something else entirely: being powerful. Having an almost unnatural affinity for magic. Sometimes, that affinity… awakens in special ways."
"You mean… abilities?" He nodded. I stared at him. "Do you have one?"
His smirk turned into something sharper. He raised a brow. "Would you like to know?"
"Yes," I said instantly. He reached up, tapped his head lightly, then flexed his hand, a faint hum of magic rippling through the air.
"I can channel my magic to boost my body. Strength. Reflexes. And…"
He tapped his temple again.
"My mind."
I stared. "Like augmentation?"
He grinned. "Exactly. I can think ten times faster than most people."
I stood there, stunned. "…That's incredible."
He shrugged lightly.
"It's not as easy as it looks. Took me years to train my body and my mind to handle it. And this…" he gestured to himself, "…is just the beginning."
"Do you think I have a special affinity?" I asked.
He smiled knowingly. "Yes. And you've displayed it many times."
I blinked. "Really? Then what is it?"
He smirked, deliberately coy.
"I'll tell you… when you're older."
I groaned.
"Why would you even bring it up if you're just going to keep it from me?"
He laughed, genuinely laughed.
"Because, Callum, you keep getting into trouble. You need to learn patience. And besides…"
He stood, brushing off his shirt.
"…we'll be visiting my side of the family soon. In the States. It's time you saw how different the world really is outside of the UK."
I froze. The States.
I thought back to my old life—the one before this reincarnation. I'd grown up in the U.S., knew its quirks, its differences. But this world… this timeline… might be different.
I only nodded. "Okay."
Desmond smiled, then dropped the bomb.
"Good. Now—prepare a week's worth of clothes."
I blinked. "Why?"
"You, Hermione, Ron, and Harry," he said, "are going to the Magical Animal Sanctuary in the Carpathian Mountains."
I stared. "We're… what? With magical creatures? In the mountains?"
He smiled wider.
"The Tesfaye family, along with a few other wizarding families and trusted muggle researchers, all own the land there. It's a reserve. Some of our rarest potions and ingredients come from that sanctuary."
My mind raced, already picturing dragons, manticores, basilisks, and gods knew what else roaming the wilderness.
"Is it safe?" I asked.
He only grinned.
"If you follow the rules."
I found myself grinning too, despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach.
"When do we leave?"
"In the morning," he said simply, already turning toward the door.
"Now go pack."
I didn't even argue. I took off running for my room, excitement and anticipation buzzing in my veins.
The morning started far too early.
The four of us—me, Harry, Hermione, and Ron—were all gathered in the Tesfaye manor's great hall, each of us dragging our bags and rubbing sleep out of our eyes. Hermione, despite insisting last night she'd wake up the easiest, looked the most exhausted, her curls a little frizzier than usual and her yawns coming like clockwork.
Dad stood waiting for us, perfectly awake and already dressed, holding a mug of coffee like he didn't need it, though the steam rising from the cup smelled faintly of cinnamon.
"Alright," he said, voice even but carrying that energy that told us there was no room for dragging our feet, "this is something very few outside the Tesfaye family have seen. What you're about to witness must stay a secret. You all must swear not to tell anyone."
Hermione perked up despite herself, instantly more alert at the word secret.
Harry tilted his head. "Is it… a secret portkey?"
Dad shook his head.
"No."
Instead, he turned, walking across the study to one of the massive floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Without hesitation, he spoke in a language I didn't recognize immediately—Latin, though the tone of it was sharp, like something ancient.
> "May our path be true to Gaia."
The books shuddered, then began to shift and slide aside.
The wood of the shelf creaked, folding back like a door, and behind it…
A mirror.
But not like the mirror in my room or the enchanted communication mirrors. This one was tall enough for a giant to step through, framed in black iron that shimmered faintly with gold veins. Ancient runes—some I couldn't even recognize—ran along the edge, glowing faintly as if acknowledging us.
Hermione gasped, the scholar in her fully awake now.
"A Mirror Spell! We're using a mirror spell to transport there?"
Her eyes darted along the frame.
"But… wait, what about getting back?" she asked, already calculating ahead. "I thought you have to have another mirror on the other side, otherwise it's a one-way trip?"
Dad smiled faintly, clearly amused.
"There is another mirror on the other side," he said. "It's part of the old Tesfaye travel network. Only the family—and those we approve—can use it. It links certain places together."
With a wave of his hand across the surface, the mirror's glass rippled like liquid silver.
"Alright," he said, "who's first?"
For a moment, none of us moved.
Then Harry squared his shoulders.
"Me."
He hesitated for just a moment—his reflection bending in the rippling surface—before stepping forward. The moment his hand touched the mirror, he was gone.
Ron followed, muttering "bloody hell" under his breath before vanishing as well.
Hermione smoothed her robes and murmured, "Amazing…" before walking through.
I stepped forward last, feeling the cool ripple against my skin as I passed through, my senses turning inside out for a brief second.
On the other side, I blinked—stunned.
We weren't in some dusty outpost or dark cavern.
We were standing in a huge cabin room—no, calling it a "cabin" was insulting. This was more like a luxurious mountain lodge, but enchanted with a kind of warmth that made the air feel alive. The walls were lined with polished dark wood, the grain glowing faintly as if magic ran through it. The windows stretched wide, letting in the early light of dawn and the faint mist rolling off the distant peaks.
Dad stepped through behind me, then tapped the mirror frame. The surface stilled, its glow fading—it was deactivated.
All four of us just stared, bags slipping off shoulders as we took in the space.
Dad's lips curved faintly.
"Wait until you see the reserve."
He led us down a wide hallway. The lodge's halls were spacious, lined with paintings that moved—some of wild, majestic beasts, others of sprawling forests and waterfalls. The scent of pinewood and incense hung faintly in the air.
Finally, we reached a heavy door made of dark oak, covered in carved symbols. Dad placed his hand on the surface, and the carvings shifted like sand in water—reshaping into a single Greek symbol.
Alpha.
"This," Dad said, "is the front."
He touched the mark, then turned to show us another marking that formed just beneath it—Ω.
"My room is marked Omega," he explained. "The phrase to pass is—"
He looked at us, a slight smile playing on his lips.
> "Cutos Natura." Hermione blinked, her eyes lighting up like someone had just handed her a mystery novel.
"The Protector is Nature!"
Dad nodded, pleased.
"Exactly."
He pushed the door open, and we stepped into—
A lobby.
But not like any I'd seen before.
It was massive, open, and warm—like stepping into the heart of a mountain lodge built for royalty. Thick beams of enchanted timber arched above us, and the floors were stone, smooth and polished, warmed by faint glowing sigils. Massive fireplaces roared in two corners, filling the air with a soft crackle of flame.
Several people were already waiting in the lobby—witches, wizards, and even a few muggles with enchanted badges pinned to their coats.
And standing near the center, waving a huge hand at us, was—
Hagrid.
"Hagrid!" we all said, voices overlapping.
His booming laugh filled the room.
"Hello there, little ones!"
Hermione nearly dropped her bag as she rushed over.
"Hagrid, are you here to see the baby dragon—Nora?"
Hagrid's eyes twinkled.
"Aye, but 'baby' isn't the right word anymore," he chuckled.
"She's grown a bit. She's about the size of that long table over there now."
He gestured to the enormous dining table by the far wall, laughing again.
He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
"And guess what? Your Aunt Aster—bless her heart—made me a member of the sanctuary. Me! A proper member!"
His chest puffed with pride.
"I help take care o' the land, the creatures… and I get to share what I've learned."
Ron grinned ear to ear. Hermione's eyes were wide with delight. Harry was already asking about what kind of creatures we might see.
Dad smiled faintly at the reunion, then cleared his throat.
"Hagrid, can I leave them with you for now? I need to meet with Newt Scamander about some… updates."
Ron's jaw practically hit the floor.
"The Newt Scamander? He's here?"
Hagrid chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Aye. Spends most o' his time here now that he's retired. He's one of the sanctuary leaders—always busy, but… if you're lucky, you might catch him in the field this week. And if not… well, you'll see him in the lodge near the end of the day."
Harry couldn't hold back anymore.
"Let's go see some creatures."
Ron nodded enthusiastically. Hermione straightened her robes, looking like she was already planning what notes she would take.
Dad gave me a small nod—the kind of nod that carried a hundred unspoken things—then turned toward the private hallway leading deeper into the lodge.
"Stay with Hagrid," he said. "Follow his instructions."
We said goodbye, and the lodge staff whisked away our bags.
We stepped through the doors with Hagrid leading the way, and the outside air hit us like magic itself.
And then—
We saw it.
The brightness of the morning nearly blinded us as the lodge doors swung open and the mountain air rushed against our faces. But all of us froze mid-step—not because of the chill, but because of what we saw.
The land stretched endlessly before us, a valley so wide and green it felt like it belonged in another world entirely. Mist rose off the distant peaks, and every breath smelled of pine, fresh rain, and earth laced with magic.
Above us, the sky came alive.
Hippogriffs of every color and size soared overhead—their wings slicing through the air with such grace that I could feel the rush of wind as they passed. Their feathers shimmered, some silver as moonlight, some deep gold, some an iridescent stormy black. Mixed in their flight were Pegasus, their white coats glowing against the dawn, wings spread so wide they seemed like falling stars.
Hermione's mouth fell open, words caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.
Ron stumbled a little, muttering, "Bloody hell…"
Harry's eyes followed every shadow across the sky, mesmerized.
And then our eyes drifted down—
In the valley below, a herd of unicorns ran, their hooves barely making a sound as they crossed the soft grass. Their coats were different shades—snow white, ivory, even a pale golden hue—but each horn shined with an almost blinding brilliance.
Among them ran female centaurs, their long hair braided with beads and vines, guiding the herd calmly like old friends.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth.
"They're… they're so beautiful," she whispered, almost as if speaking too loudly might break the moment.
I looked further down to where the valley dipped into an expansive blue lake.
That's when I saw them.
Mermaids—only, not like the ones I'd seen in the Hogwarts lake.
These weren't gray-skinned, sharp-toothed creatures—they were radiant, ethereal. Their tails glistened like sheets of polished opal in shades of sapphire and jade. Their hair floated behind them in long waves, creating a living tapestry of color in the water.
But it wasn't just mermaids.
Beside them were women with skin the color of pale turquoise, their hair like waterfalls of silver and teal. Their movements were fluid, the water itself rippling differently wherever they passed.
"Hagrid," I asked, unable to look away, "what are those blue-skinned women near the mermaids?"
Hagrid followed my gaze and grinned.
"Those are Naiads," he said, pride thick in his voice. "Water spirits, they are. Help keep the lakes and rivers clean and safe—they work with the mermaids to look after all the sea life here. And they keep the Sirens in line."
Ron blinked.
"Wait—Sirens?"
Hagrid let out a deep, rolling laugh.
"Don't worry, lad. They know better than to try an' tempt anyone who comes to the reserve. It's all part of the agreement that keeps this place safe."
Hermione still looked uneasy, though her eyes darted back to the Naiads, curiosity warring with caution.
I asked the question that had been building since the moment we stepped outside.
"Hagrid… what kinds of magical creatures are here?"
Hagrid's face lit up like a lantern as he started walking along a dirt-and-stone trail, motioning for us to follow.
"This place," he said, his voice carrying over the wind, "has been around for longer than any of us realize. Some families—Tesfaye bein' one of 'em—always kept close ties with magical creatures. Proper respect, y'see."
Harry asked, his brow furrowing slightly, "Did the Ministry… ever officially recognize some of these creatures as sentient?"
Hagrid gave a little snort.
"No," he said, shaking his head, "least not most of 'em. Some witches and wizards didn't care enough to push the Ministry—they just did the work themselves."
He crouched down briefly, running his hand through the dirt as if to emphasize the point.
"See, over time, people like yer mum and dad, Callum," he glanced at me, "and others like 'em… they fell in love with the creatures here. Sometimes literally—witches an' wizards with mermaids, Naiads, even centaurs. Had children. Families. They didn't see 'em as tools or trophies."
Hagrid stood again, looking out across the valley with pride.
"And others—like Mr. Scamander—they didn't fall in love but they did somethin' just as important: they respected life."
We turned a bend in the trail and the view changed again.
Hagrid's voice softened.
"They found this land—an' they made it safe. Rescued creatures that were nearly hunted to extinction. Creatures muggles pushed out of their homes when they cut down forests and filled rivers with smoke. Some barely hangin' on, some ready to die."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked quiet, like they were processing just how much this place meant.
As we passed the edge of a field of mushrooms—taller than Ron, their caps glowing faintly violet—I felt the hum of magic in the air grow stronger, like the very earth here was alive.
I slowed my steps, looking out over the reserve again, feeling the weight of everything Hagrid had said settle deep inside me.
The trail curved and dipped as we followed Hagrid deeper into the sanctuary, the earth beneath our boots slowly changing from soft soil to stone warmed by sunlight. The air itself felt thicker here, carrying the scents of smoke, moss, and something faintly sweet—like flowers blooming in the shadow of something dangerous.
Ron was swatting lazily at a stray gnat when he muttered, "There's no way Mum would believe half of this even if I told her."
Hermione, notebook still in hand, gave him a sharp look. "That's because she doesn't know this place exists, Ron. Most witches and wizards don't. It's protected for a reason."
Hagrid rumbled out a laugh. "She's right, y'know. The families that run this reserve keep it secret because if word got out, there'd be poachers, smugglers, all sorts. A place like this is safe 'cause the wrong people don't know where to look."
We passed a field of luminous mushrooms, the stalks glowing faintly blue, their caps dotted with tiny specks of light like stars in miniature. Above them, fairies the size of sparrows fluttered, their gossamer wings scattering motes of light. A few darted close, curious, before flitting back.
Hermione tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. "Are these the kind of fairies that—"
But she didn't finish the thought before blurting out,
"—that replace human babies with their own?"
The fairies' reaction was instant. Their glowing wings went rigid, their bodies froze, and then—like startled birds—they zipped away in a flash of light, scattering deep into the mushrooms.
Hagrid frowned, his thick brows furrowing.
"That's not a nice thing to say, Hermione."
Hermione blinked, confused. "But… I read that's what fairies used to do. In some books it says—"
Hagrid shook his head slowly, his voice low and heavier now.
"One small group did that, long time ago. But they were mean, twisted little things—more curse than creature. They'd swap their own sickly babes for healthy human ones. People called 'em changelings."
He stepped forward, kneeling slightly to pluck one of the glowing mushrooms, its cap dimming in his huge hand.
"That story didn't end well. They did it to the wrong witch and wizard. Couple found out a year later… killed the changeling. Then wiped out almost all the fairies in Europe in revenge. Burned their groves. Salted their glades."
A cold quiet fell over the group.
I thought to myself, This is why so many magical creatures have legends both beautiful and horrific. History hasn't been kind to them—and sometimes, they weren't kind to history either.
Hagrid rose again, dropping the dimmed mushroom into a pouch.
"Point is—be careful what you say. Some of these creatures, they've lived hundreds—thousands—of years. They've seen things. Lost things. Not all wounds heal, even with magic."
Hermione's cheeks flushed red, and she murmured, "I'm… sorry. I didn't mean to upset them."
Hagrid gave a small nod. "Good. Just remember that."
The trail wound again, and soon we reached the edge of a dark forest, the trees black-barked and thick, their leaves filtering out most of the light. In the gloom sat a small stone cottage, its windows shuttered, ivy crawling up its walls.
Harry tilted his head. "Who lives there?"
Hagrid's voice dropped, softer now.
"That's a cottage of vampires."
Ron immediately stepped back. "Vampires? Here?"
Hagrid nodded.
"Aye. There's an old one who lives there—been here longer than I have. He tends the grounds at night. Keeps watch. Values his solitude, so don't bother him unless you have to."
Hermione and Harry exchanged a look before Hermione asked, hesitant,
"Does he… you know… drink blood?"
Hagrid scratched his beard.
"Yeah, but he don't take it from people. Least not anymore. Gets it from the mermaids, Naiads, and other creatures who offer. Strange arrangement, but it works. He's lived this long without trouble 'cause of it."
I turned my head toward the cottage and quietly opened my Mind's Eye.
What I saw nearly made me freeze.
A crimson aura, deep and rich, pulsed from the cottage like a heartbeat.
But it wasn't wild. It was steady. Controlled.
And then… it shifted.
For a split second, I felt it staring back at me.
I blinked hard, pulling my focus away and forcing my face back into calm, neutral stillness. Best not to dig too deep. Not here. Not now.
We moved on until we reached a field of pale flowers marked by a weathered sign:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Ron squinted at it. "What's beyond there?"
Hagrid paused, his tone turning solemn.
"This is where the most dangerous creatures go—or the ones that want solitude."
He looked at each of us, his eyes heavy.
"Y'know what a blood curse is?"
Ron nodded nervously. "A kind of dark curse that… sticks. Doesn't fade."
"Right," Hagrid said.
"Some witches, some wizards… they come here when they succumb to it. Some turn into beasts. Some—those who got lycanthropy mixed with a curse—become wolves forever. No changing back."
Hermione's face fell. Harry's jaw clenched.
"Others…" Hagrid hesitated, his hand brushing over the top of the sign,
"…others are hybrids. Children of witches and wizards with magical beings—like meself."
He gave a small, rough smile.
"They know the world won't accept 'em. But here… here, they can live in peace."
Then his voice softened even more.
"Newt spends most o' his time here. Trying to cure blood curses. Some say he's close to a breakthrough."
A thought sparked in my mind.
If Newt's researching blood curses here… then maybe…
I asked quietly, "Hagrid… is there a snake here? A woman… who turns into a snake?"
Hagrid gave me a curious look.
"Funny you ask. There is. Newt brought her here earlier this year."
Ron blinked. "How'd you know that?"
I kept my face calm, weaving a lie wrapped in a half-truth.
"I was reviewing some of Grindelwald's old associates. Read about a woman with a blood curse that vanished decades ago. Thought I'd take a chance and ask."
Hagrid nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good hunch. But yes… she's here. She doesn't meet visitors. Doesn't trust 'em. Sorry, Callum."
I smiled faintly. "It's fine."
But inside, my thoughts turned sharp.
Good. So Nagini is here. Safe. Away from Voldemort's reach.
Maybe… maybe I can save her.
We walked on.
Soon, Harry stopped, his eyes narrowing at something in the distance.
"What are those?" he asked.
Hagrid squinted.
"What d'you mean?"
Ron and Hermione frowned too. "We don't see anything."
Harry described the creatures—a vague outline, black and skeletal. And I saw them too.
A herd of Thestrals.
I told them what Harry was describing.
Harry's voice lowered. "Why can only me and you see them?"
I exhaled slowly. "They're Thestrals. And… there's only one reason you can see them."
Hermione's brows knitted. "I understand why Harry can… but why can you, Callum?"
I met her gaze, calm but firm.
"That's a family secret."
She huffed, frustrated. "Come on—we're friends."
I nodded. "Yes, we are, Hermione. So respect my boundaries. Maybe one day, when I'm ready." Ron patted her shoulder. "Yeah, leave it. It's not a big deal." Hermione finally sighed. "…Fine. I'm sorry."
Hagrid gestured past a grove, his voice lifting again.
"Over there, by the waterfall—you'll see Veelas."
We turned to see them: stunning women with silver-gold hair dancing lightly in the spray, their beauty almost unreal.
One of them waved at us with a playful smile.
Another started to run toward our group, her walk turning into a teasing sway.
Hermione raised her hand like a stop sign, her expression sharp. The Veela stopped mid-step, her smile twisting into a playful pout before she turned away with a flick of her hair.
Hagrid chuckled.
"Yeah, be careful 'round them. They're moody as they are beautiful."
I smirked faintly.
"I've got potions that could make any woman as beautiful as them—maybe more." Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?" Then she frowned. "…I don't need that." I smiled lightly. "Just letting you know."
Hagrid's massive hand waved us onward.
"Right. Down the hill now. Stay close."
We followed him down a long slope, the air thickening with heat and smoke as we went.
Then we saw it: A valley teeming with dragons.
We stood there on the ridge, the heat from below licking our faces like an open furnace. Dragons. Dozens of them—real dragons—spread out across the valley floor, their scales catching the sun in every imaginable color.
Some were as large as houses, their bodies curling around boulders and pools of water as they basked lazily. Others were sleeker and smaller, darting through the air in playful loops, snapping at each other's tails. Their roars, huffs, and deep rumbling growls filled the air like a living symphony of ancient power.
But they weren't the only ones.
Wyverns, with their narrower wings and more serpentine builds, mingled among them, some resting in clusters like vultures around a feast, others gliding gracefully above the valley in wide, sweeping arcs. It was a sight that should have been terrifying—and yet, there was an order to it.
They weren't rampaging. They weren't fighting but listening. At the bottom of the hill, we saw why.
There was a man. He stood there like he belonged to the valley, like the dragons themselves recognized him as one of their own. His jet-black hair was tied back in a long ponytail, catching the wind and giving him an almost wild, untamed look, despite how effortlessly he carried himself.
His cargo pants and black boots looked worn from use, but the yellow button-up shirt he wore hugged his shoulders and chest, showing a lean, strong frame that spoke of discipline. He wasn't bulky like Hagrid or broad like some Aurors I'd seen—he was sharp.
Tall too, at least 6'1, with skin that looked like it had been kissed by sun and storm alike.
But his eyes even from here, I could see them. A brilliant golden-yellow, with a faint, almost otherworldly sparkle—like there was fire behind them that wasn't entirely… human.
I narrowed my gaze and quietly activated my Mind's Eye. Instantly, I saw it. His aura burned around him like an inferno, familiar yet foreign. It wasn't my Shadow Flame, but it felt similar in look. Only the center of his flame wasn't black It was gold.
Then his back was to us one second, but the next he turned, his gaze locking on me. There was no hesitation, no searching. He knew exactly where I was and what I had just done. His expression shifted from neutral and unreadable to a slow, knowing smile.
Then he raised a hand and waved up at us, his voice carrying clearly even from the valley floor.
"Hello, Hagrid!" His accent was hard to place. Irish? Maybe… but it felt off. Like it was a mask worn well.
Hermione leaned closer, her cheeks slightly pink.
"He's… handsome."
She blinked and then quickly added, "I mean—in an… objective way." Ron made a face. "Blimey, Hermione, you sound like Mum when she talks about Lockhart."
Hermione swatted his arm, but she didn't look away from the man below. "Who is that?" she asked, her voice hushed but intense.
Hagrid rumbled a small laugh.
"That there… that's Umbra Drakon."
"Umbra Drakon?" I repeated, the name rolling off my tongue with weight. Hagrid nodded, "He's the dragon caretaker here. Oversees the entire sanctuary."
Ron's eyes widened "All by himself?" "Mostly, yeah," Hagrid said with a shrug. "Dragons… they just listen to him. No fuss. No need for chains or spells. He just—" Hagrid gestured with his hands—"talks to 'em."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Is he a wizard?" "Oh, aye," Hagrid said, lowering his voice just a fraction. "A very powerful one. Wordless magic. Wandless magic. Like breathin' to him."
Hermione's eyes went starry for a moment. "That's… amazing."
I kept looking at him, my Mind's Eye still faintly active.
"How long has he been here?"
Hagrid hesitated, scratching his beard.
"Dunno longer then most probably. I was told not to ask too many questions 'bout Umbra. That's what Aster told me when I got hired."
That made my head tilt slightly. "All I know," Hagrid continued, "is he's the only one with unlimited access to the whole reserve. Every part of it. Even the places I'm not allowed."
Ron muttered, "That's mental." "And…" Hagrid's voice dropped even lower, "he always spends time with the vampire. And he goes to every meeting the heads of the reserve have."
By now, the man, Umbra Drakon, had climbed the slope to meet us. He moved with the ease of someone who had never tripped in his life.
"Hello, everyone," he said warmly, that faint Irish lilt sliding into his words. We introduced ourselves, each name falling into the air.
When Harry stepped forward, Umbra's golden eyes softened. "So you're Harry Potter," he said, smiling. "Nice to see a legacy back at the reserve."
Harry blinked. "Legacy?" Umbra chuckled. "Your family helped establish this sanctuary. Your father James, came here often when he was young. Worked with the reserve heads and other legacy members."
Harry's jaw dropped slightly, his voice hopeful. "Does that mean I have a room at the lodge?"
Umbra raised a brow, then smiled and with a lazy wave of his hand conjured a piece of parchment into existence. He inscribed words with glowing runes that sank into the page like ink before handing it to Harry.
"There you go. Use this to access it. Don't worry it's still cleaned and kept as it was when your father last visited."
Harry's face broke into a rare, unguarded smile.
"Thank you."
Then Umbra's gaze turned to me. "You must be…" he paused, his golden eyes locking with mine, "…the Tesfaye and Dawn heir."
His voice carried something extra when he said it, like there was a second meaning only I could hear.
I felt my muscles tense slightly.
"Tesfaye, yes," I said carefully. "But what do you mean… Dawn?"
Umbra's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Another time," he murmured. "I'll tell you."
Then, as if the tension never existed, he gestured to the dragons behind him. "Come. I'll show you them."
Hagrid nodded, his massive frame relaxing slightly.
"If Umbra's with you, yer safety's guaranteed."
We followed him down the slope, dragons shifting and watching us as we came closer. Umbra moved like he was gliding, weaving between dragons, touching some on the snout, murmuring words that weren't quite human language but weren't entirely magic either.
He introduced us to dragon after dragon—giants with scales like molten copper, deep ocean blues, and rich forest greens. Some had names like Tharagon or Syrketh, names that rumbled in your chest when spoken.
Others had names Umbra admitted with a smirk were "less formal," like the massive, scarred dragoness he patted fondly.
"This is Daisy," he said, as the colossal creature huffed smoke over us. Ron gaped. "Daisy?! She looks like she could eat a whole Burrow!"
And then there she was Nora. The baby dragon from Hagrid's letters—no longer a baby. She had grown, her wings strong and her eyes bright. Hagrid nearly teared up as she bounded toward him, letting out a high-pitched roar that shook the air.
"Ah, Nora, yeh beauty!" Hagrid boomed, rubbing her snout affectionately. As the others laughed and cooed over Nora.
I felt it a whisper not a sound in my ears, but in my mind. "Hello… my young lord."
I froze, my eyes scanning, and they landed on Umbra. He was standing just ahead, stroking a dragon's scaled neck and then, slowly he turned his head.
His golden eyes met mine and, he was smirking. with that smirk telling me one thing: He knew exactly what he just did. I was beyond surprised and on edge, but Umbra continued to speak to me in my mind, his voice a deep rumble that echoed in the back of my skull.
"Do not worry, young lord. I am an ally to you and your family."
I glanced sideways instinctively at Ron, Harry, and Hermione, but they were with Hagrid, completely oblivious, Harry and Ron tossing sticks to Nora like she was an overgrown puppy, Hermione pointing excitedly at another dragon in the distance.
They couldn't hear any of this. "Sorry to surprise you like this," Umbra continued, his tone light and teasing. "It's a little custom I've carried on with your family since your progenitor's time."
He chuckled in my mind, the sound warm but sharp, like distant thunder. Then his tone shifted, deeper, heavier, his presence pressing against my thoughts like a storm cloud.
"I'm going to borrow you for a moment." I frowned, my brow furrowed. "Borrow me?" Before I could form another thought, the world around me vanished. The sanctuary, the dragons, the mountain air gone. In an instant, there was only blackness, an endless void that stretched infinitely in every direction. Distant stars glimmered faintly above us, scattered like shards of glass on ink.
From that nothingness, shadows moved twisted and pooled, forming into a round stone table, its surface traced with glowing runes that flared faintly gold. A matching stone chair emerged behind me, smooth and waiting, and Umbra, gestured toward it. "Sit," he said simply.
I hesitated but obeyed, lowering myself into the chair. The stone was cold at first, then unnervingly warm, like it remembered the weight of those who had sat here before.
Umbra sat opposite me, his golden eyes steady, his posture was sharp and composed, but behind him loomed something greater, a massive shadow, its silhouette so large it swallowed the stars, its very breath stirring the void.
"Do you know why I brought you here?" Umbra asked. I leaned forward slightly, my brows knit. "Was it because I looked at you without permission?"
He smiled faintly, his lips curving while the eyes of the shadow behind him glowed brighter. "Not really," he said, voice calm but with an edge of warning. "But you should be careful. Powerful creatures like me or higher beings won't normally take kindly to being stared at especially with an upstart Mind's Eye in the future."
I blinked, startled. "You… know about my Mind's Eye?" Umbra steepled his fingers, his golden eyes glinting. "Yes," he said evenly. "It's a decent power for this world, but compared to the sorcerers of old, you're not even close to it's true potential."
The words hit like a splash of cold water. I frowned, sitting straighter. "What do you mean by sorcerers of old? And… what did you mean by higher beings?"
That was when Umbra smiled, and the void shifted. The massive shadow formed behind him, which had been still and watchful, suddenly moved. It formed emerged fully from the darkness, and my breath caught.
The creature was immense a titan of shadow, its scales blacker than a starless night but faintly gilded with a golden hue, like sunlight struggling beneath layers of obsidian. Its wings spanned wider than mountains, and its golden eyes burned so bright they made the stars around them seem dim.
The sheer weight of its presence pressed down on me, forcing my lungs to work harder to draw breath.
Umbra gestured toward the towering shape, his smirk subtle but sharp. "Does this answer your question?"
My throat felt dry. "You're… a dragon," I said, voice quieter than I intended, the words hanging in the void like a confession.
Umbra's smile widened. "Yes," Umbra said, voice layered, his human tone and the dragon's voice overlapping in perfect harmony. "I am an ancient dragon… or you could say, the last king of the dragons".
I sat there, staring across the stone table, his humanoid form calm but imposing, and the massive silhouette of his dragon form looming behind him like a silent god of night.
I tried to keep my voice steady. "That explains why the dragons at the reserve listen to you." Umbra's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Yes," he replied smoothly. Then his golden eyes sharpened, fixing on me. "And I know what you are, Callum."
My breath hitched. "What do you mean?"
"Your soul is not of this world," Umbra said, each word deliberate. "And you are in contact with higher beings."
The statement wasn't a question, it was a fact. I swallowed. "You can see my soul?"
Umbra's smile deepened as he leaned back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled. "Yes. Tell me how old are you not physically, but your soul itself." He tilting his head. I hesitated but decided there was no point in lying. " Forty-one as of a few weeks ago."
Umbra's smile softened, the intensity in his gaze shifting to something almost warm. "Then happy belated birthday, my young lord."
That phrase again. My brows furrowed. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Because I knew your ancestral father," Umbra replied, his voice dropping lower, the words vibrating in the space between us. "We made a pact, long ago that I would serve his reincarnation, or his descendant, should they remind me of him."
I blinked, taken aback. "Do you mean… Solomon?" Umbra nodded slowly, the dragon behind him mimicking the motion, its golden eyes flaring brighter. "Yes. Solomon."
Something in my chest tightened. "Then… why not my mother?"
For the first time, Umbra's expression shifted not to amusement or warmth, but something like respect.
"Because she surpassed Solomon."
I stared. "…What?"
Umbra leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table. "She surpassed Solomon power and knowledge and didn't want a dragon as a servant," he explained evenly. "But she did ask me to remain here, to protect the reserve and the valley as I've been doing for generations."
I took a slow breath, then inclined my head. "Thank you… for protecting the reserve and the valley, oh great one." Umbra chuckled, shaking his head, though the sound rumbled like distant thunder. "Don't do that. It doesn't feel right when you say it."
I gave him a small smile. "Okay."
I paused for a moment before asking, "Then tell me what do you mean by the last ancient dragon?" For the first time since he pulled me into this void, Umbra's expression hardened. His golden eyes dimmed slightly, and the shadow dragon behind him loomed closer, like a specter of memory.
"Long ago," Umbra began, his voice taking on a weight that made the void around us feel colder, "dragons like me existed everywhere. We were the true apex race of the world. We taught other species how to use magic. Sometimes we even took their shapes, mingled with them, and had children. We ruled not with fear, but in peace alongside the world."
I felt my heartbeat quicken. "Then… what happened?" Umbra's gaze turned distant, his voice dropping to a low, heavy growl. "The Convergence happened." The word itself seemed to echo in my bones.
I leaned forward. "What's the Convergence?" He opened his mouth to speak, and suddenly a piercing sound tore through my skull.
A high-pitched ringing, sharp and shrill, like glass shattering inside my mind. I clutched my head in pain, gritting my teeth.
His voice became garbled, like words sinking underwater — except one.
Curse.
That single word rang clear as a bell.
Umbra's eyes widened slightly, realization crossing his face. "Sorry about that," he said quickly, his voice steadier now, though I could still feel the tension behind it.
I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Bloody hell… I didn't miss this feeling." Umbra leaned forward, concern flashing in his golden eyes. "I forgot. Speaking about that, even here, requires your soul authority to be higher, or for us to leave this universe altogether."
I shook my head, still catching my breath. "Fine… fine. Just, don't spring that on me again." Umbra inclined his head in apology, then sat straighter.
I swallowed and asked the next question carefully. "How did you survive?" For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then his human face softened.
"I am a special breed," he said slowly. "My mother was the queen of the gold dragons. My father was the king of the shadow dragons. I was made to create the a new generation with my siblings and I was born with special bloodline abilities that protected me."
His gaze turned distant again. "My parents… along with my siblings, and the other dragons with similar abilities — either left this universe, died, or went into hiding."
I sat there, trying to take it all in, my thoughts a whirlpool. This world's mysteries keep unfolding… and I feel like I'm in way over my head. There are more like him and some curse caused more dragons like him to disappear.
Umbra's golden eyes locked back on mine, cutting through the haze of my thoughts.
"Callum." I sat up straighter. "Yes?"
"I called you here for two reasons."
I leaned forward, instinctively listening more intently. He smiled faintly, though there was gravity behind it.
"First," he said, "I want to establish a contract with you."
I blinked. "A contract?"
"Yes," Umbra said, his fingers drumming lightly on the stone table. "I will be your partner, not a servant. A give-and-take, until you become powerful enough to make me submit, should you feel you've outgrown me."
My brows furrowed. "Why… would you even want to be my servant?" Umbra smirked slightly, his dragon's shadow curling faintly behind him.
"Because of the agreement I made with Solomon, for helping me back in the day." I sat back, still processing. "What would I get from this pact?"
His golden eyes flared, and I felt something like a pulse of power ripple across the table. "I will teach you ancient and powerful magic of all kinds even some that only dragons know. I can help you raise your soul authority. As well as being your guardian to protect you."
I stared. It sounded… too good. Too tempting. My voice came out cautious. "…What will it cost me?" Umbra leaned back slightly, his smirk turning sharp. "You must get rid of the system you use," he said plainly. "And you must not talk to those higher beings until you make me submit to you."
The words slammed into me like a hammer I stared at him. "What? But… they've been nothing but good to me." Umbra tapped the stone table with one finger. "No. They've made you weak. You're powerful, yes, but your foundation is horrible."
His gaze burned into mine. "I read your mind. I've seen your memories."
I stiffened. "How " Then I remembered what Melesse once said, about how some higher beings could bypass my new protections.
Umbra's smirk softened into something more neutral. "Give me the journal," he said, his tone calm but commanding. "Become my student. Your journal and system will be locked away — and I will establish a connection between us, so you can speak to me wherever you go."
I clenched my fists. "…I need time to think. I still have things I need to do."
Umbra smiled knowingly. "The quests, you mean." His words weren't a question they were a statement. "I know I can help you create a new body for Helena, no problem. And instead of a homunculus…"
He leaned forward slightly, his smirk returning. "…how about a half-human, half-dragon?" I blinked. "Is that… possible?" "Yes," Umbra said simply, as though the idea was as casual as breathing.
Then his smirk faded, his expression darkening. "But as for the Harry Potter one…" He waved his hand, and a glowing window of light appeared in front of me — my quest status. The words floated, clear as day: Harry Potter's Quest Progress: 62% → 47%
My stomach dropped. I stood up, my chair scraping against the stone. "What the hell?" Umbra leaned back, his dragon's massive head lowering slightly behind him. "Because you let Voldemort live," Umbra said calmly. "And now he's out there, growing his strength. He might even be too much for you to handle in your fourth year."
His golden eyes locked onto mine. "So what will it be, Callum? Me… or those mysterious beings who watch you from afar?"
I stood frozen, my mind racing, panic clawing at my chest.
What have I done? I thought I was making good choices. I knew there would be consequences, but now even the dragon, and the system are warning me. My heart pounded as one thought consumed me. What do I do?
End of Year One.