The wind howled softly through the high towers of Hogwarts as Elise sat by the window in the Gryffindor common room. Snowflakes flurried outside, swirling like whispers of memories he hadn't asked for. His fingers were wrapped loosely around a warm mug of cocoa, long forgotten. The fire crackled behind him, but it couldn't melt the cold he felt inside.
He had returned from Blake Castle changed. Not just wounded—but redefined.
For so long, Elise had held onto the idea of his family—not out of love, but out of duty. Their legacy, their expectations, the centuries of pure-blood nobility they tried to chain him to. But now he saw those chains for what they were: illusions.
They didn't love him. They wanted to use him. Shape him. Claim him.
But his mother had been different.
The memory of her voice—soft, full of mystery and strength—echoed in his soul. The brief connection with the phoenix, Aethon, had carried something more than words. It had carried the weight of sacrifice.
She had died because of what she was. Because she had chosen to defy the World Council. Because she had chosen him.
And so Elise, for the first time in a long time, understood clarity.
He owed his family nothing. Not his father's approval. Not his cousins' sneers. Not the Blake name. If they disowned him, let them. He would carry his mother's name in silence, in spirit, in strength.
I choose the burden she left me, he thought. Because she carried it alone when no one else would. Because she gave her life to protect me from the world that hunted her.
The firelight flickered, casting shadows across his face as he stood up, leaving the cup behind.
There would be no more waiting.
No more pleasing.
Only building.
From this day, Elise would carve himself into someone untouchable—not to prove his family wrong, but because he was no longer afraid of being alone. Because he was no longer broken by rejection.
He was reborn in flame. Just like the phoenix
that had carried his mother's soul.
The snow fell in soft layers upon the battlements of Hogwarts as Elise stared out from the Gryffindor common room window, his breath misting against the glass. Below, the lake reflected the slate-colored sky, and beyond that—hidden behind frost-dusted hills—was a truth he had finally decided to carry alone.
He no longer felt the sharp sting of rejection. The anger, the betrayal, the sense of being used by his family—those feelings had burned through him in Blake Castle. But now… now there was only quiet.
He didn't owe them.
Not anymore.
His mother had given everything, not for the prestige of the House of Blake, but for something far more fragile and important: for him. For a future beyond control. And even now, her echo remained—part of her soul reborn in the rare phoenix that had chosen to guide him. A bond not of blood or name, but of sacrifice and memory.
Elise stood and walked slowly back to his bed, lifting the heavy journal he'd begun keeping since returning to Hogwarts. He opened it to a blank page and started to write—not spells, not council politics, but something more personal:
"I was not made for their throne. I am not their heir. I am her son."
That night, he dreamed. Not of fire and prophecy, but of his mother.
In the dream, she stood within a vast hall of mirrors, each one showing a path she had never taken: staying hidden, choosing loyalty, turning away from truth. Yet she had chosen defiance, even knowing the cost.
She whispered only once.
"You will be hunted, as I was. They fear what they cannot predict. That is what it means to be the Anomaly."
Elise woke before dawn. Heart pounding. That word again—Anomaly.
It had haunted conversations, veiled warnings, and his own legacy. But what was it? A curse? A title? A fate?
Over the next few days, between classes and quiet evenings in the Room of Requirement—his sanctuary now shaped like a modern loft overlooking illusionary stars—he began to search for the truth. Secret scrolls. Illegible fragments from banned books. Whispers in forgotten portraits.
The Anomaly was a flaw in the system.
The Anomaly could not be predicted by divination or controlled by prophecy.
The Anomaly brought change, chaos, and magic that did not fit any known classification.
The Anomaly was dangerous because it was free.
And then one chilling line, scribbled in the margins of a torn journal he found in the Forbidden Section:
"The Council cannot bind the Anomaly. It must be erased, or it will shatter their foundations."
Suddenly, his mother's story made sense. She had not been killed for disobedience. She had been erased—for being untouchable.
Not evil. Just ungovernable.
That was what the World Council feared. Not darkness—but freedom.
Elise closed the journal and pressed a hand over his chest. He could feel the phoenix still, distant and slumbering within the mark it had burned into his shoulder. A living link to what was lost—and to what still needed to be protected.
No one would dictate his purpose again. He would walk his own path. Learn what he must. Grow. Prepare.
For the Council would come.
And when they did… he would not kneel.