The dimly lit chamber was still and quiet, save for the soft crackling of magical energy that filled the air. Michael stood before the ancient scroll, the faint glow of the symbols illuminating his face. The words written on the parchment seemed to pulse with a life of their own, ancient runes shifting and swirling in a language Michael couldn't fully comprehend—but somehow, he understood the meaning.
The moment the scroll had been unfurled, the weight of destiny had pressed down on Michael with crushing intensity. The Watcher's presence was stronger than ever, a constant, looming force in the back of his mind. The words on the scroll were a message, a prophecy of sorts, directed at him and him alone.
You are chosen.
The words echoed in his mind, and with each passing second, they grew louder, more insistent.
Michael's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process what he was reading. The runes were ancient, a form of magic long lost to the modern wizarding world. Yet, as the symbols twisted and shifted before his eyes, their meaning became clearer.
The scroll spoke of an ancient power, one that had been locked away within the very foundation of Hogwarts itself—magic so old and so dangerous that only those with a direct connection to it could awaken it. The Watcher, the presence that had followed Michael since he first set foot in the castle, was tied to this power. And now, it had found him.
The power of death, the scroll whispered. The power to control life's end, to become the Master of Death.
Michael's breath caught in his throat. The Master of Death. The words sent a shiver down his spine, and the weight of the realization settled over him like a heavy cloak. It was no coincidence that the Dementors had reacted to him the way they had. It was no accident that the Watcher had chosen him.
It had always been about this.
But what did it mean?
Michael's fingers tightened around the scroll as he stared down at the words, the implications swirling in his mind. The power to control death—it was both an opportunity and a curse. He had never asked for this, had never wanted to become entangled in something so dark, but now it was clear that the choice had never been his to make.
This was his destiny.
Confrontation with Daphne
The next morning, Michael found himself sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his mind far from the noisy breakfast chatter surrounding him. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on him, and the scroll's message still echoed in his thoughts. The Watcher was quiet for now, but its presence was never truly gone. It lingered in the back of his mind, a constant reminder of the power he was now connected to.
He barely noticed when Daphne Greengrass sat down across from him, her sharp gaze locking onto his the moment she settled in her seat.
"You've been avoiding me," Daphne said, her voice low but firm. There was no accusation in her tone, only a cold, calculated observation.
Michael tore his eyes away from the plate of food he hadn't touched. He met Daphne's gaze, seeing the same quiet curiosity that had been there since the day they met. She was watching him closely, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Michael Murdock.
"I've had things to deal with," Michael replied evenly, though there was an edge to his voice.
Daphne's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "I imagine you have. It seems like the entire school is buzzing about you. They can't figure out what makes you tick."
Michael sighed, leaning back in his seat. He wasn't interested in the gossip swirling around him. He had far bigger problems to worry about—problems that no one else, not even Daphne, could fully understand.
"And what about you?" Michael asked, his gaze never leaving hers. "What do you think?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the question. "I think you're hiding something. Something big. And I'm not the only one who's noticed."
Michael's jaw tightened. He had known this was coming. Daphne was far too clever to ignore the strange things that had happened since his arrival. But there were things he couldn't explain, things that even he didn't fully understand. The scroll, the Watcher, the ancient power buried within the castle—it was all part of a larger mystery, one that he wasn't ready to share.
"Whatever it is," Daphne continued, her voice softening slightly, "I can help. You don't have to deal with it alone."
Michael blinked in surprise. Of all the things Daphne could have said, that wasn't what he had expected. He had always seen her as cold, distant, calculating—but now, for the first time, there was something else in her voice. Concern.
He wasn't sure how to respond.
"I appreciate the offer," Michael said finally, his voice measured, "but this is something I have to figure out on my own."
Daphne studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she gave a small nod, as if accepting his answer, even if she didn't agree with it.
"Just remember," she said quietly, "not everything can be handled alone."
Michael didn't respond. He couldn't. Not when the weight of the scroll's message was still pressing down on him, its implications swirling in his mind.
Daphne's words echoed in his thoughts as she stood and walked away, leaving him alone with the burden of his secrets.
The Marauder's Map
Later that day, Michael found himself in the library, trying to focus on his homework but finding it impossible. His mind kept drifting back to the scroll, to the ancient power that had been described in its cryptic runes. The idea of controlling death, of becoming the Master of Death, was something that had never even crossed his mind before arriving at Hogwarts. Now, it seemed like his destiny.
But was it something he wanted?
The weight of that decision hung over him as he flipped through the pages of his textbook, barely registering the words. It wasn't until he heard a familiar voice that he snapped out of his thoughts.
"Hey, Michael," Harry said, approaching his table with Hermione close behind.
Michael glanced up, his expression neutral. "Harry. Hermione."
"We were wondering if you could help us with something," Hermione said, her tone carefully casual, though Michael could sense that there was more to her request than met the eye.
Michael raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Harry glanced around the library, as if making sure no one was listening, before he lowered his voice. "It's about the Marauder's Map."
Michael frowned. He had heard of the Marauder's Map before—a magical map that showed the entire layout of Hogwarts, including every person within its walls. It was an incredibly powerful artifact, one that could be dangerous in the wrong hands.
"What about it?" Michael asked, his curiosity piqued.
Harry leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "It shows every room, every hidden passage... but there's something strange. There's a room we found, near the dungeons. It doesn't show up on the map."
Michael's heart skipped a beat. A room near the dungeons. The same area where he had found the ancient scroll.
"What kind of room?" Michael asked, keeping his tone even, though his mind was racing.
"We don't know," Hermione admitted, her brow furrowed. "It's like the map doesn't recognize it. There's just... nothing."
Michael's thoughts immediately went to the scroll, to the chamber he had discovered late at night. Was it possible that this room was tied to the ancient magic described in the scroll? The fact that the Marauder's Map didn't register it only made him more certain.
"I'll take a look," Michael said, his voice calm. "But be careful with that map. It's powerful, and if there are places it can't see, there's a reason."
Harry nodded, though Michael could see the worry in his eyes. Hermione, too, looked troubled, as if she sensed that there was more going on than she understood.
"I'll meet you by the dungeons tonight," Michael said, standing and gathering his things. "We'll figure out what's going on."
Secrets of the Castle
That night, Michael met Harry and Hermione near the entrance to the dungeons, just as they had planned. The air was thick with tension as they made their way down the dark, winding corridors, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. Michael's senses were on high alert, his connection to the castle's magic pulsing just beneath the surface.
The closer they got to the hidden chamber, the stronger the Watcher's presence became. It was as if the castle itself was guiding them, urging Michael to uncover the secrets buried within its ancient walls.
When they reached the section of the dungeons where the chamber was located, Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map. He tapped it with his wand, muttering the incantation that activated the map, and the detailed layout of Hogwarts appeared before them.
"There," Harry said, pointing to a blank space on the map. "That's where the room should be."
Michael narrowed his eyes as he studied the map. The blank space was just as they had described—an empty void where the chamber should have been. The castle's magic was hiding it, even from an artifact as powerful as the Marauder's Map.
Without a word, Michael stepped forward, leading the way down the dark corridor. His instincts guided him, the Watcher pulling him toward the hidden door. When they reached the end of the hall, Michael stopped in front of the door, his hand resting on the cold stone.
"This is it," Michael said quietly.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance, but they didn't hesitate. They trusted Michael, even if they didn't fully understand what was happening.
With a deep breath, Michael pressed his hand against the door, just as he had done before. The magic surged through him, and the door creaked open, revealing the dark chamber beyond.
As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The air was thick with magic, and the shadows seemed to move of their own accord. At the center of the room, the stone pedestal stood exactly as Michael had left it, though the scroll was now hidden beneath his robes.
"This place is ancient," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the sight. "I've never seen anything like it."
Harry didn't say anything, but his expression mirrored Hermione's awe. They both knew that this chamber was something beyond their understanding—something far older and more powerful than anything they had encountered before.
Michael's heart raced as he stood in the center of the chamber, the weight of the scroll pressing against his chest. The Watcher was silent for now, but he knew it was waiting, watching.
There was no turning back now.