AN: Hi everyone sorry to be gone for so long. Life was alright but I feel like I just hit a wall on my writing. This chapter was a bit like pulling teeth for me and just did not want to get done. I really want to get to the later parts of this story and years 1 and 2 are going to be hard for me to write. I hope you are all still around and will enjoy the next part of this story. I've got some big plans in the works for this and hope we can see them through
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Book of Eternity, Volume III
On the Nature of Understanding
"To understand a thing is to strip it bare, to peer into its heart, and to see the truth that lies within. But understanding is not mastery. It is not control. To name the wind does not grant you dominion over the storm, nor does knowing the weight of a mountain give you the strength to lift it."
"True wisdom lies not in forcing the world to yield to your will, but in learning how to move with it. To walk in step with the unseen, to listen to the voice beneath the silence—that is the path of those who seek understanding."
"Beware, however, the temptation of the impatient mind. The young grasp at knowledge as one drowning reaches for air, heedless of what they do not yet see. A foundation must be laid before a tower may rise, else it will crumble beneath its own height."
Marginal Notes – Written in Astra's Hand
"Flitwick would like this one. He always said I was too quick to rush ahead."
"Understanding is a conversation, not a command. Push too hard, and the world will push back."
"The last passage reminds me of you, Lily. No, that's not a criticism—I love that you always reach for more. Just… don't forget to build the foundation first."
The aftermath of the troll incident had been baffling to Iris.
Immediately after returning to her common room, she had been swarmed by a cacophony of concerned voices and shouted questions. Her close friends crowded around her, and it had taken ages to answer all of their questions—even longer to pry a hysterical Susan off her. (Not that she really tried all that hard.)
The oddest part of the whole ordeal was how fast everyone seemed to get over it. Within a day or two, it was as if nothing had happened at all—the incident already old news. Perhaps this was normal for magicals, but to Iris, it felt... wrong.
Even as the rest of the students moved on, the encounter with the troll lingered in her mind. One moment stood out the most—the instant she cast the modified Lumos spell. She had been trying for weeks—ever since that lesson in Flitwick's class—to modify a spell. Again and again, she had failed. Yet, in that single moment, everything clicked into place.
All of her lessons—Flitwick's explanations, the words of Magic Most Arcane—had merged into something intuitive. For the first time, she had truly felt how to shift a spell. How had she broken that final bottleneck? Magic Most Arcane had spoken of spells as malleable, but no one else seemed to treat them that way. To almost everyone, spells were fixed. Unchanging.
Was it really that simple?
Had magic always been like this, and everyone had just... forgotten?
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she nearly walked right past Professor Sprout in the hallway.
"Iris, dear," Sprout called warmly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Professor Flitwick would like to see you in his office."
Iris blinked. "Did he say why?"
Sprout smiled—a warm but knowing expression. "Something about your spellwork during the troll incident."
Iris's stomach twisted with nerves. Was she in trouble? Had she done something she wasn't supposed to? Did Flitwick really just want to talk about the spell?
As she slowly made her way through the castle, questions and doubts swirled in her mind. She really hoped she wasn't about to get into trouble.
Professor Flitwick's office was tucked away in one of the smaller towers, lined wall-to-wall with books on charms, dueling, and magical theory. The moment she stepped inside, Iris felt the familiar weight of magic in the air—different from the raw energy of her own magic, but disciplined, structured.
Professor Flitwick himself sat at his desk, his expression bright with curiosity.
"Miss Potter," he greeted warmly. "Please, have a seat."
Iris did as she was told, nervously fidgeting with her hands in her lap.
"I'll get right to the point," Flitwick continued, eyes twinkling. "You mentioned to me after the troll was defeated that you managed to escape due to your use of a modified Lumos charm."
Iris shifted uncomfortably. "I—I just changed it a little."
Flitwick leaned forward slightly. "That's precisely what I'd like to discuss. A first-year modifying an established spell on instinct? That's not something one sees every day."
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. "Where did you learn to do that?"
Iris hesitated.
This was it—the moment where she had to decide how much to reveal.
Magic Most Arcane was by this point her most valuable possession. It represented the only real connection she had to her mother. It was her words, her philosophy, her legacy. Iris was hesitant to reveal something so personal.
She thought back to all of her interactions with Flitwick so far. He had always been cheerful and helpful. He taught her favorite subject and had acknowledged that magic could be more than what most people thought.
Perhaps if she trusted him, he would be able to give her more information.
Maybe he could help her find more connections to her mother.
She took a breath.
"From a book," she said slowly. "A book my mother gave me."
Something about her words made Flitwick pause.
He straightened in his seat, curiosity giving way to something more serious.
"I see," he said carefully. "I know that Lily was quite the gifted student of charms, but I was not aware that she had delved into researching spell modification, let alone that she had somehow left you a book about it. It is also—"
"The book wasn't from Lily. I was given the book by my other mother, Astra."
Iris's voice was soft but firm.
Silence.
At first, Flitwick didn't react much. He simply stared at her, as if searching for something in her face. His eyes traced her features, lingering on the shape of her face, the streaks of violet in her hair, and finally, her eyes.
Then—a shift.
Something clicked in his expression, as if a hidden door had suddenly unlocked in his mind. His breath hitched slightly, his hands tightening on the desk.
"Astra," he repeated, voice quieter now. "Astra... I remember her… I taught her."
His brow furrowed, and for the first time, Iris saw uncertainty in his usually sharp eyes.
"I should remember more," he murmured. "She was... brilliant, one of the finest students I ever taught. But I can only recall fragments."
He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear the fog in his thoughts.
"How strange… and very concerning."
Iris sat up straighter, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Strange how? What's so concerning?"
Flitwick exhaled, his small fingers tapping absently on his desk.
"I had completely forgotten about her until just a moment ago. For me to forget someone as important and memorable as she was… that is concerning. Because it would take serious magic to erase something so completely."
He hesitated, his expression darkening. "And I don't know whether it was done by Astra herself… or by her patron."
A flicker of something unsettling passed over his face.
"I know that Astra had the knowledge to remove memories of herself from others… but I do not know if she had the power to do it on such a large scale that almost everyone has forgotten her. If her patron erased her existence from the world…" He trailed off, expression grave. "Then things are far more serious."
Iris frowned.
"What do you mean by her patron?"
Flitwick looked at her, something unreadable in his gaze.
"If the few memories I do have are accurate, Astra was a priestess—serving The Circle. I know she was an initiate while here at Hogwarts and had hoped to join the Order of the Mystics. That would mean her patron was Lady Magic herself."
He hesitated.
"For Lady Magic to remove all memory of Astra after her passing—"
"After her passing? But Astra's not dead!"
The words burst out of Iris before she could stop them.
Flitwick sat frozen.
He tried to process everything, piecing together a puzzle with too many missing pieces.
He had thought Astra was dead after her disappearance. Even more so after Lily's death—because he remembered their soul bond.
None of this made sense.
He needed answers.
"How do you know she's still alive?" he asked carefully. "And where exactly did you get a book written by her?"
Iris hesitated for only a moment before telling the truth.
"I know she's alive because I met her. In The Crossroads."
Flitwick stilled.
Iris continued, "And that's also where I got the book I've been learning from."
For a long moment, Flitwick said nothing.
Then—realization.
He looked at Iris with wide, almost fearful eyes.
"Bloody hell," he whispered. "Astra is an Aspect."
There was awe and fear in his voice.
Iris frowned. "Aspect? What does that mean?"
She hadn't expected this strong of a reaction. She knew telling him about the Crossroads would surprise him, but—why did it matter this much?
Flitwick took a moment to gather himself before launching into a small lecture.
"When it comes to the Orders that follow The Circle, the different ranks are separated by knowledge, power, and trials. One cannot advance to the next level if they are lacking in any of these."
He held up a hand, counting off on his fingers.
"The different tiers are: Initiate, Apprentice, Acolyte, Adept, Aspect, and Ascendant."
Flitwick took a steadying breath, his expression carefully composed—but Iris could see the undercurrent of unease in his eyes.
"Among those who follow The Circle, rank is not simply a measure of knowledge or ability," he began. "It is an acknowledgment by the world itself. Each step forward requires a deeper connection—to magic, to reality, to something far greater than human understanding."
He held up a small hand, ticking off each level on his fingers.
"Initiate, Apprentice, Acolyte, Adept, Aspect, Ascendant."
His voice carried a weight to it now, as though reciting something long understood but rarely spoken aloud.
Iris listened intently, the unfamiliar words settling heavily in her mind.
"Most never rise beyond Apprentice," Flitwick continued. "Those who do—Acolyte and beyond—are often drawn away from the mundane world. Their presence is required elsewhere. Few remain among everyday witches and wizards."
He exhaled slowly.
"But an Aspect..."
He trailed off, shaking his head slightly before continuing.
"When someone reaches the rank of Aspect, that is no longer just a title—it is what they truly are. An Aspect is an embodiment of a concept, a force, a truth of reality itself. Their connection to magic is so profound that the world has recognized them as an authority over it."
He looked at Iris with something close to awe—and deep concern.
"And in all my years, I have never heard of anyone reaching that level."
Iris's breath hitched slightly.
"Never?" she echoed.
"There may be a few, somewhere in history, but if so, their names were either forgotten or hidden." Flitwick drummed his fingers against the desk. "Even among the Mystics, the path beyond Acolyte is shrouded in secrecy. Those who rise too high are... often removed from the world. Bound to something greater."
Iris swallowed hard.
"So that could be why she disappeared?"
Flitwick nodded gravely. "It would explain a great deal. If Astra reached Adept—or beyond—it is possible she was claimed by her role and was no longer permitted to interfere in the mortal world."
The idea sent a shiver through Iris.
She had spent so long wondering why Astra had vanished from the world—why no one seemed to know her name, why history itself had forgotten her.
And now, for the first time, she had an answer that made sense.
Astra hadn't been erased.
She had simply become too much for the world to hold onto.
Iris clenched her hands into fists. "Then what do you remember about her?"
Flitwick blinked, pulled from his thoughts.
"What?"
"You said you had forgotten her, but now that you're remembering... what do you know?"
Flitwick's brow furrowed deeply. "Not as much as I should." His fingers twitched slightly, as though reaching for something just out of grasp.
He exhaled sharply. "I may not recall much, but I do still have my memories."
Flitwick let out a slow breath, his gaze flickering toward the far side of the room. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned back to Iris.
"Miss Potter, have you ever heard of a Pensieve?"
Iris shook her head. "No, sir."
He nodded, rising from his chair and moving toward a locked cabinet near the back of the office. With a flick of his wand, the lock clicked open, and he carefully retrieved a shallow stone basin filled with swirling, silver liquid.
"This," he said as he carried it back to the desk, "is a Pensieve. It is a device designed to store and review memories—very useful for revisiting events with a clear eye. Sometimes, even details one has long forgotten can be seen again with enough focus."
Iris leaned forward, studying the shifting silver substance inside the basin. The magic in it felt... strange.
Flitwick set the Pensieve on the desk and gave her a measured look.
"For now, I have two memories I would like to show you." He hesitated briefly, then continued, "The first is of a duel Astra and I had. It was an excellent example of true spell modification—one of the most fascinating demonstrations I have ever seen."
Iris's breath caught.
Astra dueling? A chance to actually see her mother's magic in action?
Flitwick let a small, nostalgic smile cross his face before his expression sobered again.
"The second is a ritual I had the privilege of witnessing—one of Astra's duties as an Initiate Priestess. It was not spellwork as most would define it, but rather... something deeper."
Iris felt her pulse quicken.
These weren't just stories or vague recollections. These were real moments in time—pieces of her mother's past that she had never dared to hope she could see for herself.
Her excitement was tempered by a sharp pang of worry.
What if she didn't recognize Astra in these memories? What if she saw something she wasn't ready for?
She swallowed, straightening in her seat.
"I want to see them."
Flitwick nodded, already raising his wand to his temple.
A strand of silver memory unraveled from his mind, curling in the air like mist before settling into the Pensieve with a soft ripple.
"Then let us begin," he said as the two of them each reached out a finger and touched the swirling silver surface.
Iris took a breath—
—and the world swirled into the past
The world swirled, and Iris felt the familiar pull of memory magic dragging her forward.
When her vision cleared, she found herself standing in a large, empty room. The air was still, thick with the weight of old magic. The only object in the vast space was a dueling stage, its polished wood gleaming under the soft glow of enchanted torches. Though worn with age, it was well-maintained, the edges carefully reinforced with protective runes.
Iris turned to Flitwick. "Where is this?"
The professor's voice was tinged with nostalgia.
"One of the old dueling chambers in the castle," he explained. "They were once used for dueling classes and clubs, but have mostly fallen out of use. Astra often requested to train here—she found the empty space… freeing."
Before Iris could ask more, the memory came to life.
A younger Flitwick stepped into view, his robes crisp, his wand twirling absently between his fingers. His expression was eager but measured, his sharp eyes focused on the figure across from him.
Astra.
Iris felt her breath catch.
She looked young—only fourteen or fifteen, far younger than the woman Iris had met at the Crossroads. And yet, even at this age, she carried a presence that demanded attention. The air of authority and aloofness Iris remembered was still there, but it was tempered by something that had been absent in the Crossroads Astra—a kind of vibrancy, a liveliness that made her feel undeniably present.
She was not yet the ghost of a legend—she was alive, filled with boundless energy and purpose.
Her long, violet-streaked hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and her deep, glowing eyes shimmered faintly in the low light. She stood with an air of confidence that was neither arrogance nor aggression—simply certainty.
The two combatants faced each other, but there was no tension in the air. If anything, it felt… comfortable.
"You have no idea how excited I am to see what you've come up with, my dear," Memory-Flitwick said, voice warm with genuine enthusiasm. "I've watched your little experiments grow more and more impressive over the years—so tell me, what restrictions are we using for this duel?"
Astra's lips curved into a faint smirk. "I'd prefer if you limit yourself to OWL-level spells."
Memory-Flitwick raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what of you?"
Astra crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "I will only use two spells."
Iris blinked.
Memory-Flitwick looked equally surprised. "Two?"
Astra nodded. "Space Expansion and Featherlight."
A beat of silence.
Then Flitwick let out a startled chuckle. "Astra, those are utility spells, not dueling magic."
The confidence in Astra's expression never wavered.
"That's what makes it fun."
Standing beside Iris Flitwick let out a quiet chuckle.
"She always had a gift for using magic in unconventional ways," he explained. "Where most would see a spell as having a single, fixed purpose, Astra always looked for what else it could do."
Iris frowned.
"But how could she fight with just those two spells?" she asked, baffled.
Space Expansion was used for creating larger internal spaces—trunks, bags, even rooms. Featherlight was used to make objects lighter. Neither had any combat application.
Did they?
Flitwick smiled knowingly. "You're about to find out."
On the dueling stage, the two opponents took their stances.
Flitwick's stance was textbook perfect—light on his feet, wand poised in a duelist's grip.
Astra, however, stood differently. She moved fluidly, naturally, as though she were preparing for something more than spellwork.
Then, Iris noticed it.
Astra wasn't holding one wand—she was holding two.
Iris's breath caught.
"She dual-wielded?" she whispered.
Flitwick nodded. "A rare technique, even among master duelists. But Astra always believed that the delicacy and intricacy of her manipulations required her to use multiple wands so that she could achieve multiple workings at the same time."
The air between them grew thick with unspoken challenge.
A single heartbeat of stillness.
Then the duel began.
The moment the duel started, Flitwick struck fast and relentlessly.
A rapid series of Stunning and Disarming Charms shot across the stage in quick succession—each spell precise, controlled, and perfectly aimed.
Astra, however, did not block or counter.
She moved.
Iris could only watch in stunned silence as Astra twisted, turned, and flowed like water around every attack. Her movements were effortless, smooth, instinctual, her feet barely touching the dueling platform as she danced through the barrage of spells.
For a moment, it seemed like Astra was simply dodging on pure reflex, relying on speed alone to avoid Flitwick's attacks. But then—
A bolt of red light shot straight toward her, too fast to dodge.
Astra tilted one wand ever so slightly, and—
The spell curved.
Iris's eyes widened as the Stunning Charm bent off-course, missing Astra by mere inches.
That—that wasn't possible.
Another spell followed, a Disarming Charm this time, and once again Astra gave a small flick of her wrist—the magic veered sharply to the side, fizzling harmlessly past her.
One by one, every spell that should have hit her simply... missed.
Iris turned sharply to Flitwick, mouth opening and closing in shock. "How—what—what's happening? That's not how spells work!"
Beside her, the real Flitwick chuckled, watching his younger self with clear amusement.
"What you're seeing, Miss Potter, is Astra's application of the Space Expansion Charm."
Iris blinked. "But—but that charm is used for making rooms bigger! Not for—" She gestured wildly at the duel. "This!"
Flitwick's chuckle deepened. "Ah, but remember, Astra never believed in fixed purposes for magic." He gestured toward the memory. "She's doing two things here—expanding space in front of her to make incoming spells slow down, giving herself more time to react, and twisting space unevenly to shift a spell's trajectory midair."
Iris turned back to the duel, watching with new understanding.
Astra's movements remained fluid and light, but something in her stance changed.
She was done testing.
With a flick of her left wand and a smooth motion from her right, she sent a pulse of near-colorless magic toward Flitwick.
Flitwick's shield was up in an instant.
The moment the pulse impacted the shield, Flitwick staggered.
His feet sank against the dueling platform, his arms drooped, and Iris could see his entire posture shift under an unseen weight. His shield—still intact—seemed to pull downward, as if something immensely heavy had been attached to it.
Iris stared.
Flitwick—the real one beside her—gave an approving nod. "Clever, isn't it?"
"What—what was that?" Iris asked, still reeling.
"A modification of the Featherlight Charm," Flitwick explained. "Normally, that charm reduces an object's weight by a certain factor—if cast at a factor of two, the object becomes twice as light."
Iris followed the logic immediately. "So if she changed the factor to 0.5..."
Flitwick smiled. "Exactly. Instead of reducing weight, she increased it. Whatever she hit became heavier instead of lighter."
On the dueling stage, Flitwick had already dropped the shield, realizing it was weighing him down too much.
But Astra was already moving.
A second pulse fired toward Flitwick, and he moved to dodge—
Too late.
The moment the spell hit, Flitwick slowed.
Not just physically, but in every sense—as if the very weight of existence had increased around him. His limbs dragged, his movement sluggish, like he was fighting against an invisible force pressing down on him.
Iris's head snapped back to the real Flitwick. "And that?"
"This time," Flitwick said, "she modified space again—compressing it instead of expanding it."
Iris's eyes widened in realization. "So the spell wasn't moving faster—there was just less space to travel through, so it arrived sooner."
"Precisely."
Astra had shortened the distance between herself and her target, making her spell appear to accelerate without actually increasing its speed.
Iris felt her mind spinning.
This wasn't just creative spell use—this was fundamental magic theory being rewritten in real-time.
Flitwick's younger self, now realizing his impending defeat, shifted tactics.
Instead of focusing on single, precise attacks, he unleashed a rapid-fire barrage—a nearly solid stream of Stunning and Disarming Charms, turning the air between them into a glowing wall of red light.
Astra had nowhere to run.
Or so it seemed.
Iris barely had time to react before Astra lifted one wand, holding it out in front of her.
Just before the spells collided with the tip, she twisted.
And the entire stream of spells bent.
Iris gaped as the line of glowing red magic curled around Astra, spiraling in a graceful arc as she turned—
—forming a perfect ring of red light encircling her.
Then, with a flick of her wrist—
She sent the spells back.
The entire wall of magic rushed toward Flitwick, coming at him with the same speed and force with which it had been fired.
The last thing Iris saw was memory-Flitwick's eyes widening in utter shock—
The memory faded, and the dueling chamber dissolved into swirling mist. A moment later, Iris felt her feet firmly back on the floor of Professor Flitwick's office, the soft glow of the Pensieve casting faint ripples of light across the walls.
Her mind, however, was still trapped in the past.
"That…" she finally managed, her voice thick with lingering awe. "That was insane."
Flitwick chuckled, stepping back from the Pensieve. "It certainly was."
Iris ran a hand through her hair, still trying to process everything she had just seen.
"The way she moved—it was beautiful," she said, eyes unfocused still lost in the memory of what she just saw. "She flowed around the spells like she already knew where they were going to land. And—and how she bent them—"
She turned to Flitwick, eyes bright with equal parts wonder and frustration.
"That shouldn't be possible."
Flitwick smiled knowingly. "And yet, Astra never much cared for what should or shouldn't be possible."
Iris exhaled, shaking her head. "The way she fought… it was like the rules of magic were just suggestions to her."
"In a way, they were," Flitwick agreed. "Most wizards treat spells as rigid constructs—fixed effects bound to specific incantations. Astra, however, saw magic as something far more flexible. She always sought to understand the fundamental components behind every spell, then rework those pieces to her advantage."
He gestured toward the Pensieve. "Take her use of the Featherlight Charm, for example. She didn't just lighten an object—she altered the weight factor of her magic, as well as allowing it to target non physical objects like my shield charm."
Iris hesitated, still piecing all her thoughts together. "And the final move?"
Flitwick chuckled. "That one was something I only figured out much later and I believe that it was what she was pushing herself to achieve the entire time with this duel."
"What do you mean?" Iris asked her curiosity sparked. She was certainly impressed with Astra's final move but hadn't thought that it was something so special.
"That last move she did was the next step beyond just spell alteration. There is no real spell that can do what she just did there, at least not without a lot more effort than she used. What you saw there was true manipulation. I know about it but can't quite do it myself. It is hard to even explain beyond what I already have as all accounts I've read say that it is something that must be experienced to understand it."
Iris exhaled, staring down into the Pensieve.
"She made it look so easy…"
Flitwick's expression softened. "It was anything but."
A moment of silence passed between them.
Then, Iris hesitated, chewing her lip. "She looked… different."
Flitwick's brow lifted. "Different how?"
"She was still her, but… she had this energy to her," Iris said, struggling to put it into words. "She felt so alive, so present. When I met her in the Crossroads, she was—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "She wasn't like that anymore."
Flitwick's expression darkened slightly. "The passage of time changes us all."
Iris wasn't sure time alone was to blame. Time alone shouldn't have weighed her down so much or sucked the life and vibrancy from her to leave behind what she saw.
Still, she filed the thought away for later.
She turned back to Flitwick. "You said you had two memories to show me?"
Flitwick's demeanor shifted slightly, the lightness in his expression giving way to something more solemn.
"Yes," he said, already raising his wand to his temple once more. "If the duel was a demonstration of Astra's skill as a duelist and her ability to alter spells, this next memory will show you something far more fundamental to who she was."
Iris tilted her head. "What is it?"
Flitwick's lips pressed together thoughtfully before he answered.
"A ritual. One of her duties as an Initiate Priestess."
Iris straightened immediately.
A ritual.
This wasn't just magic—this was something deeper, something tied to Astra's faith, her role, her connection to The Circle.
"I witnessed it by chance," Flitwick continued. "It was nothing grand—no great summoning, no ancient lost magic. But it was…" He paused, considering his words carefully.
"Beautiful."
Iris swallowed.
She wasn't sure what to expect, but she nodded. "I'm ready."
Flitwick smiled faintly. "Then let us begin."
Once more, a strand of silver memory unraveled from his temple, drifting down into the Pensieve.
Iris took a breath—
—and the world swirled into the past.
The world settled around Iris, and the first thing she noticed was the sky.
It stretched wide above them, painted in hues of deep orange, soft pink, and gold, the last light of the setting sun casting long shadows over the clearing. The Forbidden Forest loomed just beyond the ritual space, its ancient trees standing like silent witnesses to what was about to take place.
In the center of the clearing, two figures stood facing each other.
Astra and Lily.
They were both young and vibrant, their expressions alight with anticipation. The golden light of dusk played across Astra's violet-streaked hair, while Lily's own red locks seemed almost aflame in the waning glow.
There was no hesitation between them, no uncertainty. Only understanding.
Then, in perfect unison, they lifted their hands and spoke.
"We give thanks and praise to those that have created the world."
Their voices rang clear through the still air, and with those words, they began to move.
At first, the dance was slow, deliberate. They stepped in careful circles around each other, their hands raised, their fingertips barely brushing as they passed. Each motion was graceful, reverent, as though they were weaving something unseen between them.
Then, as if carried by an unseen rhythm, the pace quickened.
Their steps became lighter, their twirls swifter, their hands sweeping through the air in intricate patterns. Their movements were fluid—not rigidly structured, but organic, like the natural flow of wind through the trees, or waves dancing along the shore.
Then the magic came.
It started as a soft glow at their fingertips, barely noticeable at first. But as they moved, trailing lines of golden and violet light began to follow in their wake, leaving behind intricate patterns of glowing magic.
Iris stared in wonder as the lines wove together, forming spiraling shapes in the air, shifting and curling like a living tapestry.
And through it all—they laughed.
Lily's joy was unrestrained, her laughter ringing through the clearing like the chiming of bells. Astra, so often poised and mysterious, had shed her usual air of control. Her eyes sparkled, her smile wide and free, and her laughter—light and pure—was the most beautiful thing Iris had ever heard.
The very air and ground thrummed with power, not from dominance or force, but from harmony—a deep, natural magic, one that pulsed through every living thing.
It wasn't like spellcasting at all.
It was… joy made real.
Iris felt a lump form in her throat.
This was Astra. Not the ghostly, tired figure she had met at the Crossroads. Not the warrior from the duel.
This was who she was meant to be.
What happened to you?
The thought came unbidden, striking Iris with a sudden, aching grief.
What stole this happiness from you?
For a moment, she tried to make sense of the ritual itself. What was it meant to accomplish? What spell were they casting?
Then, as she watched Astra spin in a perfect arc, her magic trailing violet constellations through the air, it finally clicked.
There was no other purpose.
The beauty itself was the purpose.
It was gratitude made manifest—not a spell of power, but a gift to the world.
And for a moment, it was as if the world itself recognized and accepted it.
The wind swirled just a little more gently, the last rays of sunlight stretched a moment longer before vanishing behind the horizon, and the stars above seemed to glow just a little brighter in acknowledgment.
Then, all too soon—the ritual came to an end.
Astra and Lily slowed, their movements becoming gentle once more, until they stood face to face again in the fading twilight.
Their hands, glowing softly, met between them. The light dimmed—first from their fingertips, then from the air around them—until all that remained was the hush of the evening.
Astra let out a soft breath, a small, content smile lingering on her lips.
Lily beamed. "That was incredible."
Astra chuckled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's always better with two."
Lily glanced at their surroundings, then back at Astra. "Do you think they heard us?"
Astra looked upward, her gaze fixed on the endless sky.
"They always do."
The memory faded, and once again, Iris found herself standing in Flitwick's office, the glow of the Pensieve casting shifting reflections across the walls.
Yet, much like before, her mind remained trapped in the past.
The ritual still played behind her eyes—the way Astra and Lily had moved together, the glowing strands of magic, the joy that had radiated from them.
"That was…" Iris struggled for the right words.
Flitwick smiled faintly. "Beautiful?"
Iris swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."
They stood in contemplative silence for a moment before she spoke again, her voice quieter.
"She was different," she murmured. "In both memories, she was so… alive."
Flitwick let out a soft sigh. "Yes."
Iris hesitated. "What happened to her?"
Flitwick shook his head. "That is a question I wish I had an answer to." He glanced down at the Pensieve, expression turning thoughtful. "But perhaps, in time, we will find one."
Flitwick turned back to Iris, his usual warm demeanor returning. "We've strayed quite far from what I originally intended this meeting to be."
Iris blinked. "Wait—wasn't this about the troll incident?"
Flitwick chuckled. "It was," he admitted. "I initially just wanted to understand how you modified that Lumos charm. Instead, we uncovered far more than I expected."
Iris flushed slightly. "Er… sorry?"
"Don't be," Flitwick said kindly. "This has been a rather enlightening discussion for both of us."
His expression grew more serious. "That said, I must ask something of you, Miss Potter."
Iris straightened.
Flitwick clasped his hands together on his desk. "I want you to wait a while before attempting to alter any more spells."
Iris's heart sank. "But—"
He held up a hand, cutting off her protest before she could fully form it.
"Not forever," he assured her. "But for now, at least a year or two."
Iris frowned. "Why?"
Flitwick's gaze was steady. "Because while your ability is remarkable, it is also dangerous. You may not realize it yet, but your magic is still settling into itself. At your age, it's unstable in ways that even experienced witches and wizards struggle to control. If you alter spells unknowingly, you could cause serious harm to yourself—or others."
Iris looked down, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "So what am I supposed to do? Just… stop?"
Flitwick shook his head. "Not stop. Learn."
He leaned forward, his tone gentle but firm. "Spend the next year or two mastering spells the usual way. Let your magic stabilize. Learn how spells feel in their unaltered forms before trying to change them."
Iris bit her lip but nodded.
"And," Flitwick continued, "when you're ready, study Runes and Arithmancy."
Iris blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. "Runes?"
Flitwick smiled knowingly. "If you truly wish to understand spell modification, you must first understand how spells are constructed. Runic magic is the foundation of all spellwork—the closest thing we have to a written language of magic itself. And Arithmancy will teach you how magic interacts with structure, energy, and balance."
He leaned back. "Once you've studied these properly, then I will be more than happy to work with you on spell alteration."
Iris felt some of her disappointment ease.
"So… you'll help me? Just not yet?"
Flitwick nodded. "Not yet. But soon. When the time is right."
Iris exhaled, letting the frustration go. It was logical. And if Flitwick was willing to teach her when she was ready, then maybe this wasn't a setback.
Maybe it was just the right path forward.
A moment of silence passed between them before Iris spoke again.
"…Can you tell me more about Astra?"
Flitwick regarded her for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"I will try," he said. "There is much I do not remember, but now that I know I have forgotten, I will begin searching for what was lost."
He looked thoughtful. "I will go through my old notes, my journals—anything that might hold a fragment of memory. I will also see if there are any other records that mention her."
Iris's heart leapt with hope.
"I'd appreciate that," she said quietly.
Flitwick gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I'll let you know when I find something."
Iris nodded firmly.
She didn't know when she'd get her next piece of the puzzle. But she did know one thing—
She wasn't going to stop searching.