James huffed, struggling to breathe. His vision blurred, darkness threatening to close in. But he knew—it wasn't time to fall. One mistake, and he was dead.
Gritting his teeth, James forced himself to stand.
"James… are you alright? What kind of Seal was that?!" Johnny asked, rushing over to support him, clearly shaken.
James didn't reply. His whole being was focused on the creature.
It shrieked, loud and shrill, as black Guu began bubbling at the spot where James had severed its limb. It didn't take long—the lost appendages started to reform.
In one swift motion, the creature leapt off the ground. A third head burst forth—a massive, bony beak framed in grey feathers, yellow eyes glinting with slit pupils.
A hippogriff's head.
The beast whimpered, then four vast wings erupted from its back. As they beat, the air itself twisted under its control—winds swirled, then spun into a miniature tornado.
A red flare shot skyward, bathing the clouds in crimson.
Whistles blared across the school grounds. One by one, professors appeared—battle-ready.
Seals flew through the air. The sky became a canvas of war magic, glowing glyphs dancing like brushstrokes across the night.
"Close its part, Revonia!" Professor Henry called.
The professors moved swiftly. Some engaged the beast, while others gathered and protected the children. Their coordination was near-perfect. In moments, the surviving students were secured.
"We need to limit its ability to fly," one voice shouted.
A scythe of blackened steel materialised behind the beast. Flames ignited along its edge. It swept forward and severed the wings clean off.
The creature hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. This time, its wings didn't grow back. Only tiny, useless stubs writhed at its sides. The flames… the Seals… they were working.
"Bind it, Rudius!" shouted Professor Vine.
Enchanted chains wrapped around the beast's body. More Seals followed, burning into its hide. But no matter how many they cast, the creature refused to die.
"We may need dragonfire," Henry said grimly.
He pulled a gold whistle from his coat and blew. No sound came—but high above, a rumbling roar answered.
The dragon descended.
Larger than any house, its scales shimmered like ocean waves. Twin curled horns crowned its head, and its sky-blue eyes swirled with cloud-like patterns. A blue flame burned above its brow.
The professors bowed. The dragon met Henry's gaze, then turned toward the creature. With a deep inhale—it exhaled.
A torrent of blue fire engulfed the beast.
It screamed—long and shrill—as the smell of burning flesh choked the air.
"Nothing survives a true dragon's flame," said Professor Reduis, the short, scruffy-haired Magical Beasts teacher. His coat hung like a curtain around his tiny frame, but his voice filled the field.
Then—"Help me!" someone screamed.
Everyone froze.
The creature… had changed.
It now looked like a student.
"Halle? Is that you?!" cried Reduis. He lunged forward—
But it was too late.
The thing turned to ash. Her scream echoed as she dissolved into slag.
Silence.
Every eye was wide. Every breath held.
"Pay it no mind," said Professor Vine. "It's playing tricks—to try and survive."
But a black smear began to crawl across the earth where the creature had died.
"It's not gone," Henry muttered, pulling a small vial from his coat.
"It may be immortal," he added, sealing the black substance inside with a spell.
"Revonia—I need a prayer over this," he said, handing the vial to the priestess.
She nodded solemnly and lifted her arms.
"O Triple-Faced One, Hecate of shadowed flame,
Warden of gates, midwife of fate,
Mistress of the moon, who walks between worlds,
Hear me now—your daughter calls.
By stone and star, by thorn and tide,
By the crossroads where secrets hide,
Bind this bane in silver seal,
Let fire cleanse, and fate reveal.
Darkness fold, and light defend,
Let what was cursed now find its end.
Hecate, Queen of witch and wraith,
Grant us strength, and guard with grace.
With this circle, the oath is sown,
No evil shall rise from flesh or bone.
So, I speak it, so it stands."
As she spoke the final word, triple-ringed sigils shimmered into view around the vial—sun, moon, and star cradled in crescent light.
Then a voice—thunderous, absolute—rang across the school.
"All students and staff must report to the Great Hall immediately. A tragedy has befallen us."
It was the Headmistress.
Her words froze them in place. Moments later, the halls swelled with motion.
James found himself swept up in the current. No one spoke. No excited chatter, no jokes. Just silence—and dread.
In the Great Hall, children clung to one another. Some wept.
"Luis? Roney? Where are you?!"
Others searched for friends, siblings—any familiar face. Many simply stood still, shell-shocked.
"Silence!" the Headmistress commanded. Her voice cut through the sorrow like a blade.
"Bring the injured to the centre. Teachers—check your registers. We must know who is missing."
Slowly, painfully, the children sorted into their Houses, banners glowing dimly above them. Teachers moved from one name to another.
And for every name that went unanswered…
The silence grew heavier.
Sniffles. Cries. Choked sobs.
Some names would never be answered again.
Gone forever.
For the first time in generations…
The school had been attacked.
Not just its walls,
But its heart—
It's children.
"Tonight, all of you will sleep here," the Headmistress said at last, her voice grave. "Tomorrow morning, your parents will arrive. Until further notice, the school is no longer safe."
James stood off to the side, scanning the crowd. He saw Fred—relieved—but his sister was nowhere in sight.
His stomach dropped.
No… she can't be gone too.
He turned, eyes darting from face to face, heart pounding. One by one, he found the rest of his friends from his House. They were alive. Present.
But it didn't ease the weight pressing down on his chest.
The day dragged on painfully. The sun seemed frozen in the sky, unwilling to set. When it finally did, the stars offered no comfort. The students lay down in conjured bunk beds lined in rows across the stone floor.
James couldn't sleep.
He stared at the ceiling, his thoughts spiralling.
The creature… it had been roaming the school. For how long? And how had it gone undetected by the castle's protective enchantments?
The only way in was through approval from the Founders themselves. That was the rule. That was the law.
So how?
His mind throbbed. Nothing made sense. Darkness crept into the corners of his thoughts.
And then—dreams took him.
"Run... Run away... There is the creature..."
Vivid visions flooded his sleep—memories twisted and pulsing, half-real and half-fear. The creature's many eyes. Its voices. The screams.
"Wake up, boy. You are not supposed to be here. Wake up. Wake up."
The voice cut through the fog of sleep like a knife.
James jolted upright.
Johnny was shaking him roughly. "Wake up, James! Our parents—they're outside the castle. They're here to take us."
The castle gates creaked open.
Children rushed toward the waiting crowd, arms outstretched, seeking the comfort of their families.
"Where is my child!?" A thunderous voice rang out. One of the parents—a large man—pushed through the gathering, wild with grief.
Other cries followed. Mothers wept. Fathers shouted.
"I brought my child here expecting him to be safe! This school was supposed to be the safest place in the world! The wards, the dragons—what are they for? Decoration!?"
A few staff members hurried to calm the enraged parents, their faces stricken with helplessness.
From a distance, James saw them—his grandfather Alexandre and his uncle Author.
Without thinking, he ran straight to them.
They embraced him tightly.
Everything that had happened—clearly, the parents already knew.
"Are you alright, James?" Alexandre asked, scanning him head to toe, his voice tight with worry.
"I'm okay," James whispered, barely audible.
It didn't take long for all the children to gather outside, their trunks packed. The air was thick with grief and disbelief.
The Headmistress stood atop the main staircase at the castle's entrance. She looked down upon the gathered crowd—then bowed deeply.
"Until the Ministry determines it is safe… Doddington will remain closed. Indefinitely," she declared.
She raised her head. Her voice trembled.
"I… I offer no excuse. We failed you. I'm sorry we couldn't get there in time."
Her composure cracked—tears streamed freely down her cheeks.
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Poor woman. She truly cared for them..." someone whispered.
Two professors stepped forward, gently taking her by the arms to steady her.
One by one, families turned to leave.
Tearful goodbyes filled the courtyard. Some friends hugged tightly. Others stood silent, too shocked to speak.
"Arcturus!" a voice boomed behind James.
He turned to see a tall, imposing man striding toward them.
It was Lucas—Ladwick's father.
He had striking golden hair that shimmered in the grey light and wore a black suit laced with gold chains. His cane bore a dragon's head, and he moved with a cold grace. Black gloves covered his hands, and every inch of him screamed wealth and pride.
He looked directly at James.
"I heard your son helped in the defeat of the creature," Lucas said to Author, his voice smug. "Seems your blood runs true after all."
"How nice to see you again, Cox," Aurthor replied, lacing every word with icy sarcasm.
The two men exchanged tense glances—long, quiet, and charged with old rivalry. They spoke a few more clipped words, then turned away.
It was obvious. There was history—and animosity—between the families.
"Let's go now, James," Aurthor said. "Go fetch your grandfather—he's speaking to the Marquis family over there."
James turned.
The Marquis family stood a little apart from the crowd, surrounded by attendants. Their robes gleamed with silver and ruby, clearly chosen to show off their wealth and rank.
The old Marquis, a man as aged as Alexandre, looked up as James approached.
"Ah, and this is my granddaughter," the Marquis said, gesturing beside him.
"Her name—Alice," he added.
A silver-haired girl stepped forward.
The moment James laid eyes on her, his head throbbed violently.
Visions—twisted, blurred—rushed in. His breathing turned sharp and erratic.
Her face…
She looked exactly like the girl from the cages.
James's thoughts were muddy. Maybe I'm just paranoid… after everything that's happened, he told himself.
But something about the girl—her eyes, her presence—it clung to his mind like fog that wouldn't lift.
"Come visit my balls sometime, old friend," the Marquis added casually, his voice echoing with noble detachment.
James blinked.
Alexandre gave a curt nod in response, and with that final exchange, they turned and walked away.
The snow crunched softly underfoot as James, his grandfather, and his uncle left the ruined school behind—heading back to the quiet halls of their family manor.
Behind them, Doddington stood in silence.
Wounded. Haunted.
Waiting.