Lucian dreamt of a castle.
It stood ancient and solemn, its crumbling towers reaching high as if rebelling against the night sky. A lone, tattered banner rustled in the wind, its faded emblem hinting at a forgotten era of grandeur. A deep lake of darkness enclosed the castle, and silvery moonlight glinted off its ruined walls. A forest of twisted trees spread around them, while bones and skulls littered the ground.
Then, the sun began to rise from the east. The resplendent moon quickly fell west in a silver flash. Bricks and stones streaked from the rubble into the castle's walls. The overgrown forest retreated, drawing a sharp circular boundary. Bones and remains quietly sank into the ground, giving way to fertile green grass.
Time had reversed its flow, and Lucian saw the castle in all its glory for the first time.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell.]
[Prepare for your First Trial...]
And just like that, the dream was shattered.
The castle's majestic silence was broken, replaced by the hush of rushing air. An earthy scent invaded the darkness.
Thud
Lucian hit the ground hard.
Pain exploded across his side, forcing the breath straight from his lungs. What felt like stone beneath him was slick and bitterly cold, sharp edges pressing into his body. For a second, all he could do was lie there and take deep breaths.
'God… I already hate this stupid spell.'
He took a deeper breath and lifted his upper body to look around.
He was in what seemed like an underground tunnel, with wet rock lining the walls and a low, arched ceiling. Torches burned in brackets attached to the walls, their small flames throwing a weak, flickering light across the stone.
And behind him was -
Every muscle in Lucian's body went tight.
He pushed himself backwards and onto his feet, boots scrambling on the slick floor. His shoulder thudded against the jagged surface of the wall.
There was a man behind him. Just a few meters away.
The unknown man staggered to his feet. He wore odd yellow robes, hung crookedly over a matching waistcoat, both stained with dirt and grime. His face was almost ghostly in the dim lighting, his wavy blonde hair matted to his forehead.
His movements were jittery, his hands shaking visibly as he tried again and again to wipe the grime from his clothes.
He lifted his head; Lucian's sudden scramble had drawn attention to him.
"Harry?" he said, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Are you- Are you alright, my boy?"
Lucian cringed. Someone who spoke like the Director was the last thing he had expected to hear.
He stayed where he was, spine pressed against the wall, as he watched the man with careful, narrow-eyed suspicion.
'Great. Not only did my ribs break straight away, but now I'm stuck with the Director's strange blonde cousin. Just great."
His gaze travelled down, finally taking in his own clothing.
The blazer had vanished, along with Blackwood's tie. Instead, Lucian found himself wearing a similar, but much more luxurious, collared white shirt, with dark trousers. A new red and gold striped tie. Over it, a grey V-necked sweater, with a gold and magenta trim and a silky black robe, similar to the blonde man's. On the left side of his chest, an embroidered shield: red and gold, with a lion rearing on its hind legs.
Lucian's mouth twitched. At least the Director would approve of his respectable new clothing.
He looked back at the blonde man, who was still watching him, wide-eyed, seemingly harmless. Seemingly. Lucian may not have had formal training, but growing up dealing with shady vendors and street thieves had taught him to pick out suspicious people. And this odd man was definitely one of them.
A scraping sound suddenly tore through the air behind the man, coming from a sizeable hole in the wall.
Something shot out of it in a blur of ginger.
The body hit the ground with a heavy thump and came to rest between the blonde man and Lucian.
Lucian didn't move towards it, who knew who it could be, what they could do? His hand remained braced against the wall, body tensed.
A boy, of about 10-12, lay sprawled on the floor, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. His hair was a wild shade of orange, his limbs long and awkward for his age. The robe he wore matched Lucian's, though his sleeves seemed too long, and the hem was frayed.
Lucian stayed exactly where he was. He wasn't going to take any unnecessary chances with his life, and with the Spell? You never knew what could kill you.
On the floor, the boy let out a pained groan and struggled onto his feet.
"Merlin's beard, Harry," he wheezed. "You could've at least tried to catch me."
Lucian blinked once. The Ginger spoke with an easy sort of familiarity, the kind he often heard between children at the Home.
He decided to probe a bit further.
"Sorry, Sorry, I barely got up myself," he muttered, "Took a nasty hit to the head."
The boy rubbed his backside, his face tight with pain and worry.
"Right. Well, let's just hope Ginny's alright. We need to hurry." He glared pointedly at the blonde man. Who was now attempting to clean the grime from his robes with a handkerchief, stopped abruptly. He forced a smile.
"Ahem. Ron, Harry. My boys. I'm sure you two have -er- have got this well in hand now. I'll stay and… watch the entrance?"
Lucian quietly noted the boy's name, along with the cowardice of the blonde man.
Ron's face darkened with anger. He jabbed his finger at the blonde man.
"Oh no, you don't, you git! No way you're staying behind! You're coming with us. You can show us how the famous Gilderoy Lockhart handles Slytherin's monster!"
The blonde man - Lockhart sputtered, "B-but my dear boy, I am your Professor! You can't just-"
"Professor," Lucian interrupted, "you heard him. You're not staying here alone."
Lockhart swallowed, hesitating.
"Yes, very well," he said weakly. "If you insist."
Lucian watched the man's internal struggle. He had chosen to ultimately side with Ron. They wore matching uniforms, and Ron spoke to him with a lot of familiarity, not hostility. Unlike Lockhart, who reminded Lucian of those salesmen who visited the orphanage; two-faced.
Meanwhile, Ron reached into his robe and pulled out a slender stick of what looked to be polished wood.
He held it in front of him, like a conductor, and spoke
"Lumos."
Light blossomed at the tip, small and controlled. White with a blue undertone. It helped illuminate the remaining darkness of the narrow tunnel. The walls are slick with condensation, droplets crawling down the stone like reluctant tears.
'Magic,' Lucian's eyes tracked the light. 'That's pretty cool.'
Ron stepped forward, leading the way, holding the wand up like a torch.
"We're probably underneath the lake," he said quietly, glancing at the waterdroplets beading on the ceiling.
Lockhart shuffled after him, shoulders hunched, each step reluctant. Lucian stayed at the back, where he could keep an eye on them, and if needed, use them as shields for what lay ahead.
Their footsteps echoed as they continued, accompanied by the endless drip of the falling water. Their shadows stretched and warped in the firelight, dancing on the walls.
Lucian kept his distance. He had watched the other two, noted the language they used, the words that they used. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for him to get a rough idea of what he was doing.
'Lockhart said he was our Professor, making me (Harry) and Ron students. That massive castle must be the school. And right now, we could be underneath that black lake. Ron also mentioned some monster, belonging to Slytherin? And that we had to save Ginny? Not to mention, he just cast a magic spell.'
Lucian's gaze slowly shifted to Lockhart, who was fearfully looking at the shadows in the tunnel.
'But if that's the case, then why doesn't Lockhart use magic instead of being forced by two kids? Maybe they need wands?'
Having made sense of his immediate circumstances, Lucian redirected his attention to what he should have looked at much earlier. He focused, and glowing runes quickly materialised in front of him.