Chapter 4: The Library Alliance
The Restricted Section hummed with a magic that wasn't cozy or academic, but ancient, heavy, laced with secrets that clung to the air like damp velvet. The books whispered on their shelves—not words, but ideas, fragments of forbidden lore locked away for good reason. The air was thick with the scent of decaying paper, the metallic tang of old bindings, and a faint whiff of mildew that tickled Leo's nose. Dust motes danced in the slanted, sickly light from a high window, its panes warped and streaked with grime. A chipped candlestick, its wax long melted into a frozen cascade, sat forgotten on a shelf, a silent witness to years of neglect. This place feels alive, and not in a good way. Leo's fingers twitched, his new body still unfamiliar, as if Benedict Crowe's bones were a size too small.
Hermione Granger was in her element, her face half-lit by the window's glow, a portrait of single-minded determination. She ran a finger along the spine of a massive, leather-bound book, Arcane Rituals of the Forgotten, leaving a clean trail in the thick dust, her breath hitching with the thrill of discovery. Her robes, slightly frayed at the cuffs, brushed the table, stirring more dust into the air. The obsessive joy she radiated was almost contagious, like a spark in a dark room. She's practically glowing. I'm just trying not to sneeze. Leo glanced at her, then back to the shelves, his boots scuffing the worn floorboards, their creaks echoing faintly.
Leo perched precariously on a rickety step ladder, its wood splintered and wobbling under his weight, his fingers grazing titles like Dark Arts Defense and the Unspoken Vow and The Unseen Folly of the Maligned. The ladder's creak was a constant warning, and Madam Pince's icy stare from the front desk pressed against the back of his neck like a cold blade. She's looking right at us. A nervous drumbeat pounded in his chest. I bet she has a magical trapdoor for kids who breathe too loud. He brushed a spiderweb off a book titled Of Beasts and Whispers, its cover bound in something scaly, like a reptile's skin, with a tarnished silver clasp that glinted dully. The air shimmered with resentful energy as he pulled it out, setting it on the dusty table with a soft thud, a cloud of ancient grit puffing into the air, catching in his throat.
"This thing's feisty."
He rubbed his now-red hand, the sting sharp.
"It literally slapped me."
Hermione looked up, a scowl creasing her brow.
"Don't say that!"
She hissed, her voice a touch too loud, echoing off the shelves.
"You have to respect the books."
Her stern expression cracked, a rare smile breaking through, her eyes softening.
"But the way you approached the hippogriff… it was brilliant. Like you were speaking a language they understood."
Her eyes shone with admiration, her quill pausing mid-scratch.
"Let's collaborate. We'll be more efficient."
Leo felt a surge of pride, a small victory in this alien world. She's on my side. That's something. His lips quirked, a grin spreading.
[HERMIONE AGREES. COLLABORATION BOOST: 15% FASTER RESEARCH.]
Snarky as ever. He thought, his grin widening.
"But a win's a win."
He grabbed another book, its plain cover unremarkable, its spine creased and faded. As his fingers touched it, the book flew off the shelf, landing on the table with a startling thud that rattled a nearby ink bottle, its glass chipped and stained. It wasn't a book—it was a map, its parchment unfolding like a living thing. The ink glowed a luminous gold, pulsing like a heartbeat, revealing Hogwarts' grounds, Nevermore's ruins, and a single symbol: "Newt's Sanctuary." Leo's breath caught, a jolt of recognition sparking. The suitcase. Newt Scamander's suitcase. The Entity's whole deal. His hands trembled, the parchment crinkling under his grip, its edges brittle with age. This is why I'm here.
[JACKPOT. OR TRAP. FLIP A COIN.]
A pixelated coin spun in his vision, a soundless ping cutting through the library's hush. Leo grinned, his chest bubbling with part-amusement, part-relief.
"Heads, jackpot."
He said to no one, a laugh escaping, the sound muffled by the heavy air. Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth agape, her fingers tight on his arm, nails digging into his robe's frayed fabric.
"Incredible! We have to go! Now!"
Her enthusiasm was electric, her voice a spark in the gloom. Okay, Leo, don't mess this up. Think. Plan. His mind raced, the map's glow reflecting in his eyes.
"Wait."
He stepped back, the ladder creaking ominously.
"We need a plan. This isn't a simple walk in the park. This is a mystery locked away for years. It's too big for just the two of us."
They gathered the map and a worn book, Beasts of the Arcane, its leather cover cracked, and hurried toward Iago Tower. The castle stones seemed to lean in, whispering, their chill seeping through Leo's robes. The light faded, the air growing colder, and the portraits' eyes tracked them, unreadable, their frames chipped and gilded. A loose flagstone snagged his boot, nearly tripping him, the jolt grounding his nerves. Focus. We've got this. The map felt heavy in his hands, a promise and a threat.
In Iago Tower's common room, the barriers hummed, a low buzz against the gothic vines curling over oak beams, their faint glow casting shadows like secrets. The fireplace crackled, its warmth battling the dungeon's chill, the scent of burning pine sharp. The Outcasts gathered, the map spread on a scarred table, its wood etched with old carvings. Wednesday stared, her face unreadable.
"If we die, I'm haunting you first, Crowe."
A rare smirk graced her lips, a show of trust that hit harder than words. She's in. That's huge.
[PRO TIP: BRING A PHOENIX FEATHER. OR A SNACK. SNACKS HELP.]
Leo chuckled at the System's cryptic mix of danger and absurdity, the air thick with anticipation.
"Snacks win."
He muttered, a small smile breaking through, picturing his old gaming snacks—greasy chips, stale soda—left behind in another life. Agnes yawned, a bubble of a fake yawn shimmering above her head.
"Midnight? My bedtime."
The illusion was flawless, almost convincing Leo she was tired. The group laughed, the tension easing, the fireplace's glow warming their faces. We're a team now. The plan was set, the map a key to the ruins, to truths buried deep. The dorm's quiet, broken only by the fire's crackle, felt like a fragile sanctuary.
[MIDNIGHT ADVENTURES. BECAUSE SLEEP IS FOR PEOPLE WHO DON'T HAVE PLOT ARMOR.]
Leo looked at his friends, his new family, their faces lit by firelight. I'm not alone anymore. The map was no longer a puzzle but a key, one that would unlock the ruins and the truth within. A chipped quill on the table, its feather frayed, seemed to nod in agreement, a mundane anchor to their mission's weight. We're ready. Let's do this.