The excitement at breakfast was palpable.
"Did you hear?" whispered a third-year Hufflepuff at the Gryffindor table.
"Harry Potter's the youngest Seeker in a century!" a Ravenclaw girl gasped, flipping through Hogwarts: A History as if trying to confirm it.
Elias Blake quietly chewed on his toast, glancing up only occasionally from his plate. He could feel it—eyes watching, whispers trailing him. Not because of Harry's new title, but because of him. The rumors had twisted like ivy through the corridors: "Blake should've been in Slytherin," "His father's furious," "Dumbledore won't budge."
And in a way, Elias preferred it that way. The more they speculated, the more they underestimated.
Across the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy sat glaring at the Gryffindor table, his scowl carved deeper than usual. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him like twin shadows, trying to whisper comfort but only fumbling their pumpkin juice in the process. Harry, on the other hand, looked entirely overwhelmed, shrinking under the attention.
Elias noticed. And so did Malfoy.
By the time classes ended and dinner was cleared, the whispers had evolved into concrete plans.
"A duel," Ron muttered, his voice thick with excitement and worry. "Malfoy's challenged Harry to a wizard's duel. Midnight. Trophy Room."
"Does he even know any spells?" Elias asked, raising a brow.
Harry didn't answer immediately. He looked tense, fingers tapping nervously against the edge of his chair. "I'll go."
Ron grinned. "I'll be your second."
Elias shook his head. "You know this is a trap, right?"
"That's why we're going," Harry said, quieter this time. "I'm not going to let Malfoy push me around. Not here."
There was a kind of fire in Harry's voice, new but familiar. It reminded Elias of the same fire he'd seen in others who had chosen Gryffindor not out of pride, but necessity.
As they crept through the halls that night under moonlight and mischief, Elias followed silently behind. He had no intention of joining the duel itself—he didn't need the spotlight—but something about the air tonight told him it would not go as planned.
The trophy room was empty, its polished surfaces glinting faintly in the dark. Dust floated like ghosts in the shaft of moonlight breaking through the high windows.
"They're late," Hermione hissed from the doorway, her arms crossed.
"You shouldn't have come," Ron said.
"You shouldn't be here either," she shot back. "And neither should you," she added, glaring at Elias.
"I'm only here to make sure Harry doesn't get hexed into a trophy," Elias replied calmly.
But Malfoy never showed.
Instead, Filch's voice rang through the corridor like a curse. "Students out of bed! Out of bounds!"
Panic scattered them. They ran—Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Elias—twisting through empty stairwells and past suits of armor. At one point, Hermione nearly tripped, and Elias caught her by the elbow, steadying her before dashing off again.
They didn't stop until they reached the third-floor corridor—the one that was strictly forbidden.
And then, they heard it.
A growl.
Fur.
Fangs.
Three of them.
The monstrous dog snarled and leapt forward, but they barely had time to flee back through the door and slam it shut behind them.
"What was that?" Ron gasped, breathless.
Hermione looked like she was going to faint. "It was guarding something. There was a trapdoor—did you see it?"
Elias did. And he stored that information away.
As they returned to the dormitory in silence, still shaken and exhilarated, Elias couldn't help but glance at the System screen blinking faintly in the corner of his mind's eye:
[Fate Divergence System Notification]
You have subtly influenced the outcome of a canonical event.
+10 Fate Points.
+2 Reputation (Gryffindor).
+1 Bond Progression – Hermione Granger.
+1 Bond Progression – Harry Potter.
He lay in bed that night, gazing at the ceiling. No letter from his father had come today.
But Elias knew another one would. He could feel it. And next time, he wouldn't be able to ignore it.