Chapter 11

As they ate, Thaddeus casually set down his fork and leaned forward slightly.

"This paint," he began, his tone thoughtful, "is a remarkable piece of magic. It's not the kind of thing you'd find in your average joke shop. But you must have noticed—it wasn't meant to last. The moment we arrived at the station, it vanished completely, as if it had been designed to disappear before any professor could properly inspect it." He paused, letting his words sink in. "And more than that, it wasn't stable. It felt like a prototype—something still in testing."

Elysia and Andromeda exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from amusement to intrigue.

"What are you saying?" Andromeda asked, setting down her goblet.

Thaddeus glanced between them before continuing, "Maybe—just maybe—someone was testing the wards. Seeing how they'd react. The Hogwarts Express and Hogwarts itself share similar warding structures. If someone wanted to study how protective enchantments respond to foreign magic, this would be the perfect way to do it."

Elysia inhaled sharply, staring at him in disbelief. "You think someone's watching the wards?"

"That's my guess," Thaddeus said simply, watching their reactions closely.

For a brief moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the clatter of plates around them.

Elysia was the first to recover. She let out a slow breath, shaking her head. "I didn't expect this at all," she admitted. Then, narrowing her eyes at Thaddeus, she added, "To be honest, my first thought was that this was your doing. You can be annoyingly secretive, and testing the magical aptitude of students? That's exactly the kind of experiment you'd pull."

Thaddeus smirked but said nothing, waiting for her to finish.

"But," she continued, her expression thoughtful, "the moment I saw the paint start losing its consistency as we arrived, I knew it wasn't you. You're too arrogant to risk your work being undone so easily."

"I'm not arrogant," Thaddeus corrected, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement. "Just confident in my abilities." He leaned back slightly. "But you would have needed prior knowledge to realize the train's warding system mirrors that of the castle. And I didn't know that."

Andromeda, who had been listening intently, finally spoke up. "Which means whoever set this up had that knowledge," she mused, her fingers drumming lightly against the table. "And they weren't just looking to cause chaos—they wanted information."

"That's even more interesting" exhaled Elysia, her gaze drifting to the enchanted celling, planning her chase. "We have a little troublemaker to catch" she finally said her planning done.

The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet that evening. The flickering greenish glow from the enchanted underwater windows cast shifting shadows across the stone walls, the occasional ripple from the Black Lake above distorting the dim light. The fireplace burned low, its embers crackling softly, providing a rare moment of warmth in the otherwise cool dungeon air. Most students had already retired to their dormitories, leaving only a few late-night stragglers murmuring in hushed tones near the far end of the room.

Elysia sat at their usual table, lazily swirling the now harmless liquid inside the enchanted kettle, watching as it caught the dim light like liquid silver. The once-chaotic magical paint was reduced to an inert substance, and yet… something about it still felt off.

Across from her, Thaddeus sat quietly, his fingers steepled as he observed the kettle with an unreadable expression. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost reverent.

"This is truly a work of art," Thaddeus murmured, his eyes fixed on the object. Without looking away, he reached forward, his fingers brushing the smooth metal surface—only for his entire demeanor to shift in an instant. His breath hitched. A flicker of something—recognition? Fear?—flashed across his face, and before either Elysia or Andromeda could react, he yanked his hand back as if burned and let the kettle clank sharply onto the table.

Her cousin, flustered?

Elysia stared, utterly taken aback. That reaction wasn't normal. In all the years she had known her cousin, she could count on one hand the number of times she had seen him flustered.

"You—You know something?" she asked hesitantly, her voice more concerned than accusatory.

But Thaddeus didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a piece of parchment and, with trembling hands, began scribbling something down. His writing was uneven, almost frantic—completely unlike his usual precise script. It was as if he was haunted, as though something had shaken him to his core.

Elysia exchanged a quick glance with Andromeda, who had been watching him just as closely. There was a flicker of understanding in her eyes, and she started to move closer to him.

Too late.

Thaddeus abruptly shoved back his chair, standing so suddenly that it scraped against the stone floor with a sharp grate. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. His pace was urgent, almost frantic—so unlike his usual composed self.

He barely noticed the wide-eyed first-year he nearly knocked over on his way out, not even sparing an apology as he vanished through the doorway.

Elysia and Andromeda sat frozen for a moment, the echoes of his hurried footsteps lingering in the air.

Andromeda was the first to speak. "What did he see?" Her voice was hushed, but there was an edge of curiosity beneath it.

"No idea," Elysia muttered, still staring at the spot where he had been moments ago. "Did you catch what he wrote?"

Andromeda frowned, shaking her head. "It looked like a letter—but I didn't get a chance to see to whom."

Elysia leaned back, exhaling slowly. Her gaze flicked toward the still-swaying entrance door before landing back on the kettle. "This isn't like him. Running away like that? Something about this scared him. And if it scared him…" she trailed off, her thoughts racing.

Andromeda frowned. "You think we've stumbled onto something bigger?"

Elysia smirked, but there was no humor behind it. "Oh, I don't think, Dromeda." She tapped the kettle with a fingernail, the soft plink echoing in the quiet. "I know."

They waited for Thaddeus for most of the night, hoping he would return. But as the hours dragged on and the common room grew silent, he never came back.

Finally, at 4 AM, exhausted and restless, they admitted defeat and headed to bed.