Wind rustled through the Forbidden Forest.
Lucien stared at the tiny girl in front of him. What the heck?
A Snorf-snuffle?
Another creature only Luna could see and believe in, like Wrackspurts?
Not necessarily. Luna did spot weird stuff—like that time at the Burrow…
"Achoo!"
Luna sneezed, rubbing her red little nose.
Lucien pulled out his wand and casually Transfigured two fallen leaves into a pair of fluffy white bunny slippers.
"Put these on."
Luna slipped her feet in, gave a couple hops, and the bunny ears on the toes flopped cutely.
"Thanks, Lucien. Um… why bunny slippers?"
He grinned and pointed at her radish earrings. "Carrots, right?"
Luna tilted her head, staring into his emerald eyes. "I thought you'd call me Loony too. I mean, looking for shoes doesn't mean trekking this far into the forest. It's dangerous for first-years."
Dangerous?
Lucien flashed back to last year—seven trips in and out of the forest. Never ran into anything too wild.
"Loony? That's what people call you?"
Luna nodded, no sadness—just stating a fact. "Yeah. Maybe my words, my thoughts, my clothes? Everyone thinks I'm… different? Weird?"
Her calm, almost detached vibe made Lucien even more curious. He said softly, "We're Ravenclaws. Eagles are supposed to be a little different."
True. Smallest house, but packed with oddballs.
Beyond loving knowledge, Ravenclaws had quirks—saw angles others missed, didn't always explain. Made them stand out.
Luna kept gazing up. "Different? Then you're the most different. But you get along with everyone, which makes you even more different…"
"I came to see unicorns. A few days ago, near the forest edge, I think I saw one that could fly?"
"Might've been wrong, but I figured if I came back today…"
A flying unicorn?
Lucien's eyes narrowed—this time, no doubt she'd seen something real.
A white blur dropped from the sky. Silver light-wings shimmered at its shoulders, glowing with pure, holy light.
"Aurora."
Lucien waved, smiling. "Hey, girl."
Aurora—last winter's rescued foal—had grown a ton in a year.
She trotted over, nuzzling his cheek.
He patted her neck. The silver wings faded into wing-shaped markings.
After fixing her damaged magic circuits with Magic Weaving, follow-up treatments triggered a change.
Her golden foal coat turned white. The markings sharpened—and unlocked an ability.
Channel magic into the wing-marks, and poof—light wings. Flight.
Lucien had seen the upside of beneficial circuit tweaks.
Speaking of—Norbert was old enough for a weave too.
Goal: turn him into a dragon-king. Flashier magic was a must. System said as long as it stayed within Norwegian Ridgeback limits, it was fair game.
"Luna, is this the unicorn you saw?"
Luna looked confused, glancing between Lucien and Aurora. After a long pause: "Yes, the winged one. But… books say unicorns only let witches—or pure maidens—touch them…"
"You're an upperclassman?"
She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with realization.
"Oh! I get it. Dad says unicorns don't see with eyes—they see with moonlight. Your soul… must be full of moonlight."
She paused, searching for words. "Way more than most people. They can tell."
Moonlight?
Did this girl always cook up her own logic?
Lucien was fascinated by whatever was in that head. "Hey—back at the Weasleys, you said you 'saw' things around me that got 'eaten.' What was that?"
Luna shook her head, voice airy. "I forgot. But now there's a bunch more. I know them—Thought Moths, Glow-Ant Orbs, Happy Ducks…"
"You're really happy at Hogwarts, aren't you? You love it here."
Lucien blinked. Love Hogwarts?
Obviously. It was fascinating—endless magic, endless knowledge.
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm happy here."
Luna beamed. "That's great."
"Lucien, her name's Aurora, right? Can I play with her?"
"Ask her yourself."
As expected, Aurora let Luna approach.
Lucien bartered with the Thestrals—special treats and grooming for shed tail feathers.
He exhaled over the cold, black feathers.
Insurance against the Basilisk.
---
Box World
"Come on, just one more feather."
"Boss, you said that yesterday. Keep plucking, and how am I supposed to get a mate??"
Lucien face-palmed. This Thunderbird was thinking way ahead. They don't even date till twenty.
"Ahem, Ethel—you're ten. Plenty of time. Follow me, you eat like a king, look like a champ. You'll have a harem. One feather grows back in days."
Ethel stretched his neck, enjoying the scratch. "But… it still hurts a little…"
Lucien: "What do you want for dinner?"
Ethel yanked out a feather with his beak and handed it over. "Salt-and-pepper lamb chops, thanks boss!"
Lucien shook his head, took the thunder-feather, and left the layer. Back in the alchemy lab.
At the workbench, he kept tweaking the half-finished broom.
Wand taps—materials broke down, reformed. The thunder-feather fused in; wind and thunder hummed across the wood.
"Almost done. Quidditch starts in November—I'll make it."
---
After Charms – Heading to the Great Hall
Lucien walked with the trio.
No one around—Hermione spoke up. "Lucien, in History of Magic, Professor Binns told us about the Chamber of Secrets…"
She recited Binns' lecture word-for-word: Slytherin built it, monster inside, kills Muggle-borns.
Lucien listened. Same as Snape's version.
As she talked, he noticed—Hermione's front teeth looked… smaller?
"Hey, Lucien—any ideas about the Heir?" Ron asked, eyes hopeful. Last year, Lucien had spotted the Flamel clue in a book.
Lucien didn't answer directly.
Of course I know—Tom's diary (soul shard edition), using Lockhart to stir trouble.
But he needed Lockhart and the Basilisk busy. This year, the kids had to solve it themselves.
In the books, they'd suspect Malfoy, then Hagrid, even Harry got blamed…
With his changes—who would they pin it on now?
Curious, he flipped it back. "With what you know—what do you think?"
Ron scratched his red hair. "If the Heir hates Muggle-borns… probably a Slytherin, right? Slytherin made the Chamber, his house carries the torch—perfect circle."
"But who? So many…"
"Flint? Guy's a jerk."
Harry: "He could strangle someone himself, sure. But command a monster? His brain might not allow it."
Hermione glanced at Lucien, thoughtful. "Maybe we ask Malfoy and Greengrass to snoop? They're in Slytherin—easy access. And…"
"They don't seem keen on purging Muggle-borns, do they?"
Harry and Ron turned to Lucien.
He looked at the ceiling. Why me again?
Gal-game, no—Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets doesn't work like this.
You're supposed to brainstorm, lock suspects, Polyjuice into their circle, snag the diary by accident, trigger events, unlock CGs…
Three pairs of hopeful eyes.
Lucien laughed. "You can just ask Malfoy and Greengrass yourselves."
Harry pushed up his glasses, awkward. "Malfoy's… complicated right now. Flint's back from detention, and he's pissed at Draco for some reason."
Ron: "So Greengrass then. But you know—she doesn't hang with us. She's cool with you, though, right?"
He winked.
Hermione bristled, hugging her books. "We don't need her. Plenty of other ways."
Ron shot her a confused look—didn't you just suggest them?
"Or… maybe not a Slytherin?" Harry said, hesitant. "Someone else feels… off."
"Like Lockhart. That night Mrs. Norris was petrified—I was in his office…"
As Harry recounted, Lucien's mind raced.
Sharp kid. Didn't catch the key, but sensed something.
Lockhart—or young Tom—used Harry as an alibi. Smart.
Kids don't track time well. Lockhart's office had no clocks—just a stopped hourglass. Harry's chase after the Basilisk voice? Adrenaline blurred everything.
Ron nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, the Defense post is cursed. But we can't pin it on Lockhart just 'cause of Quirrell. I mean—even I can tell the guy's a total fraud. Could he pull this off?"
"Ron, Professor Lockhart isn't a fraud, he's just…" Hermione trailed off. The more classes she took, the less she believed his books.
Ron threw up his hands. "Sorry, sorry—forgot you drew little hearts next to Defense on your schedule. Why do you girls even like that type? I thought you'd go for Lu—"
"RON!"
Hermione's shriek came with a thwack—Ron's lips met the thick spine of her book.