After breakfast, Arthur made his way to his first class, though his mind was far from the lessons being taught. The words of the letter echoed in his head, and the ominous warning it carried weighed heavily on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, something far beyond what he could comprehend. As the day dragged on, his unease only grew, until finally, after the last class, he decided he needed some air—something to clear his head.
Without a word to Draco or anyone else, he slipped out of the building and made his way toward the owlery. The cool, crisp air of the evening was a welcome relief, and he breathed deeply as he walked up the stairs to the high perch. The vast expanse of the grounds stretched before him, bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him. He was still haunted by the events of the previous night, and the strange transformation that had taken place. His hair, the close call in the Forbidden Forest, the eerie sensation that he was being watched—it all felt like a puzzle he couldn't quite put together.
Arthur climbed the spiraling staircase to the owlery, the crisp evening air brushing against his face. The faint rustle of wings and occasional hoots filled the air as he stepped into the tower. Rows of perches lined the stone walls, each occupied by owls of varying shapes and sizes. His eyes scanned the room until they found him—Zephyr.
The sleek, dark-feathered owl sat perched on a high beam, his amber eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Arthur let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Hey, Zephyr," he called softly. The owl tilted his head at the sound of Arthur's voice, then swooped gracefully down to land on Arthur's outstretched arm.
Arthur chuckled as Zephyr nipped at his sleeve, a gesture somewhere between affection and impatience. "Miss me, huh? I've been busy surviving the week."
Zephyr hooted in response, fluffing his feathers.
Arthur sat on the stone ledge, letting Zephyr perch on his knee. "You know," he began, scratching behind Zephyr's neck, "I've been thinking a lot about last night. Something's... off. First, that thing in the forest nearly kills us, then my hair goes completely white—don't give me that look." Zephyr had cocked his head, blinking at him in a way that seemed suspiciously judgmental.
Arthur sighed. "Alright, fine. I haven't told Draco yet, or anyone for that matter. What am I supposed to say? 'Oh, by the way, mate, my hair decided to audition for ghosthood, but no big deal'?" He shook his head. "Yeah, that'll go over well."
Zephyr hooted again, this time more sharply.
"Okay, okay, I get it. You're saying I shouldn't keep it to myself. But it's not that simple." Arthur leaned back against the cold stone wall, his gaze drifting toward the fading twilight. "You've seen it too, haven't you? Strange things keep happening around me, and I have no idea why. And now this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter, holding it up for Zephyr to see. "It changed, Zephyr. The words are different now."
The owl blinked at the parchment but didn't offer any wisdom, not that Arthur had been expecting him to. "It's like it's alive," he murmured, unfolding the letter.
The neat, flowing handwriting was still there, but something had changed.
"Arthur,
Your actions have not gone unnoticed. There are eyes in places you do not know. The dangers lurking in these halls are many, and not all can be seen. Trust no one. Trust nothing.
You are not alone in this, but you will wish you were. The darkness that follows you is ancient and relentless. Beware of what you seek to uncover. Some knowledge is better left buried.
The time to act is now, but be careful of who you ally with. The line between friend and foe is thinner than you think.
Tread carefully, for the choices you make will determine your fate. The path ahead is treacherous, and it's already too late to turn back.
A Friend."
Arthur exhaled slowly, his mind racing. "What does that even mean?" He looked at Zephyr, as though hoping for some sort of divine insight.
Zephyr fluffed his feathers and gave a low hoot, hopping onto Arthur's shoulder.
"Right. As cryptic advice goes, it's not the worst," Arthur said, half to himself. Then it hit him. "The Library. Of course."
Not just any part of it—the Forbidden Section. The one place at Hogwarts where the shadows of hidden knowledge truly lingered.
Arthur folded the letter carefully and tucked it back into his pocket. "Looks like I'm heading to the Library tonight, Zeph. Let's hope I don't get caught—or worse."
Zephyr nipped at his ear, a sharp but affectionate gesture.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful," Arthur muttered, standing up and brushing off his robes. He glanced at his companion one last time. "Wish me luck, buddy"
Zephyr hooted softly, watching as Arthur made his way down the staircase. The owlery grew silent again, but Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that the day was far from over.
**********
Arthur moved silently through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the chill of the evening air nipping at his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the last as he approached the towering doors of the library. The school felt eerily quiet at this hour, save for the occasional flicker of torchlight casting shadows on the ancient stone walls.
Exams were just around the corner, and while most students were busy with last-minute revisions, Arthur was chasing answers far removed from Potions essays or Defense Against the Dark Arts incantations. The letter's cryptic message gnawed at his mind like an unsolved riddle.
Slipping inside, he made his way to the restricted section, his wand drawn and ready to cast a quick Lumos if needed. The room seemed to breathe with an ancient energy, the air heavy with the scent of parchment and ink. Shadows clung to the corners, and Arthur hesitated for a moment before stepping further in.
The Forbidden Section wasn't merely a place of secrets—it felt alive. Each book seemed to hum faintly, their magic pulsating under centuries of preservation spells. Arthur scanned the shelves until his eyes fell on a worn leather-bound tome titled Ancient Sorcery
"This has to be it," he whispered, pulling the book from the shelf. It felt heavier than it looked, and as he flipped through the brittle pages, strange diagrams and archaic runes leapt out at him.
Arthur found a quiet corner and set the book down, leaning over it intently. Words like soul fragments, elemental fusion, and prohibited rituals blurred together as he read. Then something caught his attention—a passage about wielders of uncontrollable magic tied to ancient artifacts.
His fingers traced the faded text. "Could this be connected to me?" he murmured.
"Mr. Reeves," came a cold, familiar voice from the shadows, "while I admire a thirst for knowledge, there are limits to even a Slytherin's ambition."
Arthur froze, his blood running cold. Slowly, he looked up to see Professor Snape emerging from the darkness, his black robes billowing like smoke. His expression was one of cool disdain, though there was a flicker of something else in his dark eyes—curiosity, perhaps.
"Professor Snape," Arthur stammered, shutting the book quickly and standing up. "I... I was just—"
"Risking expulsion again, naturally," Snape interrupted, his tone sharp but not as biting as it could have been. He stepped closer, his gaze flickering to the book on the table. "I would expect such recklessness from a Gryffindor, not one of my own."
Arthur swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel relieved or doomed. "I just wanted to—"
"Find answers," Snape finished for him, his tone softening just a fraction. "Curiosity is a double-edged sword, Mr. Reeves. It can lead to brilliance—or destruction."
Arthur bit his lip, deciding to take a chance. "Do you know what this is about, sir?" He gestured to the book and the folded letter sticking out of his pocket.
Snape's sharp eyes followed the movement. "I know enough to recognize danger when I see it. And so should you." He plucked the letter from Arthur's pocket before the boy could protest, unfolding it with deliberate care.
As he read, his expression remained unreadable, though his brow furrowed slightly. When he finished, he handed it back with a quiet sigh. "Whatever game you've stumbled into, you're woefully unprepared to play."
Arthur frowned, confused and frustrated. "But, sir—"
"You will leave this section immediately," Snape said, his voice hardening again. "And if you are foolish enough to return, even I may not be able to shield you from the consequences."
Arthur nodded reluctantly, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. As he moved to leave, Snape spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant:
"You have potential, Reeves. Don't waste it chasing shadows."
Arthur left the library with Snape's words echoing in his mind. He couldn't tell whether they were a warning, a challenge, or something else.