Kylo stormed down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off the ancient stone walls. The whispers and laughter from the Great Hall faded behind him, replaced by the pounding of blood in his ears. His fingers tightened around the worn leather cover of "Advanced Defensive Magic" as he replayed Auror Wexley's words in his mind.

"Death Eater spawn... can't risk working with Slytherins... questionable background..."

With a frustrated growl, Kylo slumped against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the cold floor. The book fell open in his lap, its yellowed pages filled with spells far beyond standard N.E.W.T. level. Spells he'd mastered years ago, hoping they might prove his worth, his dedication to fighting dark magic. Fat lot of good that did him now.

"Quit brooding, boy," a stern voice called out. "It won't do you any good."

Kylo's head snapped up, scowling at the portrait of a hook-nosed man with lank black hair. "Go away," he snarled.

The man in the portrait raised an eyebrow. "I would if I could, believe me. Unfortunately, I'm rather stuck here."

Kylo's eyes flicked to the nameplate beneath the frame. "What kind of name is Severus?" he muttered.

"What kind of name is Kylo?" the portrait retorted dryly.

Kylo shrugged, some of the fight going out of him. "It's the name I chose."

Severus studied him for a long moment, his dark eyes seeming to see right through Kylo's carefully constructed walls. "Ah," he said finally. "I see. Trying to forge your own path, are you? Separate yourself from your family's legacy?"

Kylo stiffened. "You don't know anything about me."

"Perhaps not," Severus conceded. "But I know something about being judged for the house you're sorted into, for the company you keep, for the mistakes of your past" His voice grew quieter. "And I know how tempting it can be to embrace the very darkness they accuse you of, just to spite them all."

Kylo looked up sharply, meeting the portrait's gaze. For a moment, he saw a flicker of understanding there, of shared pain.

"What would you know about it?" Kylo asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Severus's lips curled into a bitter smile. "More than you might think, Mr. Ren. More than you might think."

Kylo stared at the portrait,"Who are you?" he demanded. "I mean, who were you? When you were..." he gestured vaguely, "alive."

"I was the Potions Master here for many years, and later the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Severus replied. He paused, studying Kylo more closely. "Though I'm curious why a student would be poring over such advanced material alone in a dark corner."

Kylo's jaw clenched. "Because apparently some of us need to work twice as hard just to prove we're not a threat."

Severus's eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "Ah," he said quietly. "I see. The burden of expectations and prejudice weighs heavily on you."

Kylo looked up, surprised by the understanding in the portrait's voice. "You... you know what it's like?"

"More than you can imagine," Severus replied, his voice tinged with old pain. "I too was a Slytherin, talented beyond my years, drawn to powerful magic. And I too faced suspicion and mistrust, even from those who should have known better."

Kylo stood, moving closer to the portrait. "What did you do? How did you prove yourself?"

Severus's expression grew distant. "I made many mistakes," he admitted. "In my anger and bitterness, I nearly let the darkness consume me entirely." His black eyes fixed on Kylo with startling intensity. "Listen to me, boy. No matter how tempting it may be, no matter how justified you feel in your rage, do not forget where you came from. Do not let the darkness take you."

"But how?" Kylo's voice cracked slightly, his carefully maintained facade crumbling. "How am I supposed to resist when everyone already thinks the worst of me? When even the Aurors won't give me a chance?"

"By holding onto the light," Severus said softly. "Find something pure, something good, and cling to it with all your might."

"What was yours?" Kylo asked, drawn in despite himself. "What kept you from falling completely?"

Severus was quiet for a long moment, lost in memory. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "A little girl I loved. Her kindness, her laughter, her fierce belief in what was right... even long after she was gone, the memory of her light kept me steady through the darkest years."

Kylo absorbed this, thinking of his own childhood – of warm brown eyes and a mother's embrace, of his father's rare words of pride. Of laughter shared over Christmas dinner, even after years of distance. He pushed the memories away, burying them deep.

"I don't have anything like that," he said flatly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Are you quite certain? Think carefully, Mr. Ren. Light can be found in the most unexpected places – even in those we believe have wronged us."

Kylo opened his mouth to argue, but footsteps echoing down the corridor interrupted him. He turned to see Rey approaching, her expression uncertain.

"Kylo?" she called softly. "Are you alright? I saw you leave dinner..."

Kylo glanced back at the portrait, but Severus had retreated to the shadowy background of his frame, watching silently. When Kylo looked at Rey again, he was struck by the genuine concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly, but some of the tension left his shoulders.

Rey stepped closer, her brow furrowed with concern. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across her face, highlighting the sincerity in her eyes.

"I... I wanted to apologize," she said softly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her robe. "For what Poe said at dinner. And this morning. It wasn't right, the way he treated you."

Kylo's expression remained guarded, but something in his posture softened almost imperceptibly. He glanced at the portrait of Severus, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.

"It's fine," Kylo said gruffly, his voice low and resigned. "I'm used to it by now."

He turned to leave, his tall frame casting a long shadow down the corridor. His footsteps echoed off the ancient stone walls, each one carrying him further into solitude.

Rey bit her lip, watching him go. Then, impulsively, she called out, her voice ringing clear in the quiet hallway:

"Good night, Kylo!"

Kylo paused mid-stride, his back still to her. For a moment, he stood perfectly still, as if frozen by her unexpected kindness. Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders relaxed. He didn't turn around, but Rey could have sworn she saw the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

With a soft huff that might have been amusement, Kylo continued on his way, disappearing around a corner and leaving Rey alone in the torchlit corridor.

As his footsteps faded into silence, Rey turned to head back to Gryffindor Tower. She caught a glimpse of movement from the portrait and paused, noticing the hook-nosed man for the first time. He regarded her with an unreadable expression, then gave her a small nod of what almost looked like approval before retreating into the shadowy background of his frame.

It happened during a routine practice maneuver – the kind Poe had executed hundreds of times before. A sudden gust of wind, a slightly miscalculated roll, and a Bludger that came out of nowhere. The crack of impact echoed across the pitch before Poe crumpled forward on his broom.

The team managed to get him to the hospital wing, where Dr. Kalonia examined his shoulder with practiced efficiency.

"Absolutely not," she said firmly, cutting off Poe's protests before they began. "The bone is healing, but magical healing isn't instantaneous. One week of complete rest, minimum."

"But the match against Ravenclaw—" Poe started, trying to sit up and wincing.

"Will have to be played without you," Kalonia finished, pushing him gently but firmly back onto the bed. "Unless you'd prefer permanent damage? That Bludger nearly shattered your shoulder blade."

"We can't postpone?" Poe looked desperately at Professor Skywalker, who had come to check on his student.

"You know the rules, Mr. Dameron. The schedule is fixed." Luke's eyes held sympathy but remained firm.

The rest of the team huddled awkwardly near the door, while Rey hung back, her heart pounding. She knew what this meant.

Finally, Poe's shoulders slumped in defeat. "A week?" he confirmed with Dr. Kalonia.

"At minimum," she emphasized. "And that's only if you actually rest."

Poe gestured for Rey to come closer. Despite his obvious pain, his eyes were intense. "Rey," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command that had made him such an effective captain. "You're up. I've seen how hard you've trained – you're ready for this."

"But—" Rey's throat felt dry. "This isn't just any match. Ravenclaw's seeker Chang is one of the best in the school."

"And you're better than you think," Poe said firmly. "The team needs this win to stay in the running for the cup. My last cup," he added quietly.

Rey looked at her teammates – Rose's sympathetic smile and Finn's encouraging nod. They were all counting on her now.

"I won't let you down," she promised.

"I know you won't." Poe managed a grin, then grimaced as Kalonia began applying a potion to his shoulder. "Just remember what we practiced. And watch out for Chang's favorite feint – she likes to—"

"Mr. Dameron," Kalonia interrupted sternly, "if you don't stop moving, I'll have to immobilize you completely."

As the team filed out of the hospital wing, Rey felt the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. She was no longer just the reserve Seeker – she was Gryffindor's only hope for maintaining their championship lead.

"You've got this," Finn assured her, falling into step beside her. "We've all seen you fly."

Rey nodded, but her mind was already racing through strategies, remembering every tip Poe had given her over the past year and a half. And, unbidden, a memory surfaced – Kylo Ren's voice from that Christmas dinner: "The key is in the initial lean. Most people overcorrect too early."

She had a week to prepare for the biggest match of her life.

The moon was nearly full, casting enough light for Rey to practice after dinner. She'd been sneaking out to the edge of the Forbidden Forest every night since Poe's accident, knowing she needed every extra minute of practice she could get.

Her borrowed school broom wasn't nearly as responsive as Poe's racing broom, but she was making it work. She dove between the ancient trees, weaving through their branches, pushing herself to fly faster, turn sharper.

"Come on," she muttered, attempting the cork-screw dive she'd seen Chang perform. The broom shuddered beneath her as she twisted, fighting against the maneuver. Suddenly, the handle slipped in her grip – she'd overcorrected, just as Kylo had warned about last Christmas.

The ground rushed up to meet her. Rey closed her eyes, bracing for impact, but instead felt herself slowing, as if caught in an invisible net. She floated gently to the ground and found herself face to face with Kylo Ren, his wand still raised from casting the charm.

"What are you doing out here?" they asked simultaneously.

Rey clutched her broom defensively. "Training. We've got the match against Ravenclaw next week and I..." she hesitated, then admitted, "I need all the practice I can get."

"Ah." Understanding flickered across his face. "Dameron's injury. I heard about that."

"What about you?" Rey countered. "Why are you practicing spells at the edge of the Forbidden Forest?"

Kylo lowered his wand but didn't put it away. "Sometimes the castle feels... confining. And certain types of defensive magic require more space than a classroom provides."

Rey noticed scorch marks on several trees and what looked like the remains of conjured targets. "Defensive magic? Is that what's in that old book you've been studying?"

Something guarded passed over his features, but then he seemed to make a decision. "Your form is wrong on the dive," he said instead of answering. "You're fighting the broom instead of working with it."

"I know," Rey sighed. "I keep overcorrecting, just like you said at Christmas about the Sloth Grip Roll."

"Show me again," Kylo said unexpectedly. When Rey hesitated, he added, "Unless you'd rather crash for real next time?"

Rey mounted her broom, aware of his scrutiny as she rose into the air. She attempted the dive again, trying to follow his corrections.

"Better," he called up. "But you're still too tense. The corkscrew isn't about force – it's about timing. Here..." He pulled out his wand again. "I'll conjure some markers for you to practice with. We can work on your timing without risking your neck."

Rey landed beside him, surprised by the offer. "You'd help me? Even though I'm playing against Slytherin in two weeks?"

Kylo's lips twitched in what might have been almost a smile. "I'm not on the team anymore, remember? Besides," his voice took on a dry tone, "someone needs to make sure Gryffindor's new Seeker doesn't break her neck practicing illegal maneuvers after hours."

"They're not illegal," Rey protested. "Just... strongly discouraged."

"We'll start with the basic spiral approach," Kylo said, already conjuring glowing rings in the air. "And if anyone asks, this never happened."

Rey grinned. "Deal."

The morning of the match dawned clear and cold. Rey sat at the Gryffindor table, her breakfast untouched as her stomach churned with nerves. The Great Hall buzzed with pre-game excitement – Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students wearing their house colors, waving banners, and making predictions about the outcome.

Poe sat beside her, his arm still in a sling, giving last-minute advice she could barely process. "Remember, Chang likes to dive sharp and pull up late, so don't follow too closely if—"

"I need some air," Rey mumbled, stumbling up from the table. She made her way out to the entrance hall, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Nervous?"

Rey spun around to find Kylo emerging from a shadowy corner. After a week of secret evening practices, she'd grown used to his quiet appearances, but this was different – they'd never acknowledged each other openly in the castle before.

"I'm terrified," she admitted. "Everyone's counting on me. Poe's last chance at the cup, the team's standing..." She twisted her hands together. "What if I mess up everything we practiced?"

"You won't," Kylo said simply. He glanced around to ensure they were alone, then added in a lower voice, "But even if you did, it's just a game."

"Just a game?" Rey stared at him. "But you won four cups—"

"And now I spend my evenings practicing much more important things," he reminded her. "You're a good flyer, Rey. Natural talent like yours doesn't disappear under pressure. Just..." he paused, seeming to choose his words carefully, "don't let anyone else's expectations weigh you down. You're fine just the way you are. Fly for yourself."

Rey felt something warm bloom in her chest, surprised by the gentleness in his voice. This was the Kylo she'd glimpsed at Christmas, the one who'd patiently corrected her form night after night in the darkness by the forest. Not the intimidating Slytherin everyone whispered about, but someone who actually cared.

Kylo glanced around once more, then reached into his robes. "I have something for you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was going to give it to you after the match, but..." He pulled out a long, slender package wrapped in brown paper, the package expanded into its full size.

Rey's eyes widened as she carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a broomstick – not brand new, but lovingly maintained. The polished oak handle gleamed in the morning light, and the tail twigs, though slightly bent from use, were neatly trimmed.

"Is this...?" Rey breathed, running her hand reverently along the smooth wood.

"My old Nimbus 2001," Kylo confirmed. "The one I used for all four cup wins. But I just call it Grimtaash"

Rey gaped at him. "Kylo, I can't accept this. It's too much."

He shook his head. "It's been gathering dust in my trunk for years. Better it gets used by someone with real talent." A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Besides, it's still leagues better than those ancient school brooms, even after all this time."

Rey lifted the broom, marveling at how it seemed to hum with magic, eager to take flight. It was lighter than her borrowed Cleansweep, yet felt more solid, more responsive. She could already imagine how it would handle in the air.

"I don't know what to say," she murmured, tracing the faded gold lettering on the handle.

"Say you'll fly it," Kylo said simply. "It's a Seeker's broom. It deserves to be in a real match again."

Rey looked up at him, seeing past the usual mask of indifference to the genuine emotion in his dark eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. "Really, Kylo. This means... more than I can say."

He nodded once, then glanced towards the Great Hall. "You should get back. Your team will be wondering where you are."

"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything this week."

He nodded once, his expression returning to its usual mask as other students began filtering into the entrance hall. "Good luck," he said, already turning away. "Though you won't need it."

As Rey walked onto the pitch minutes later, she felt calmer than she had all morning. The stands were packed – she could see Rose with her "Go Rey!" banner, Poe watching intently from the Gryffindor section, and in a shadowy corner of the Slytherin stands, a tall figure in black.

"And substituting for injured Captain Dameron, second-year Seeker Rey!" the announcer's voice boomed across the stadium. "A last-minute change that could decide Gryffindor's chances at the cup!"

Rey mounted her broom, Kylo's words echoing in her mind: "Fly for yourself."

Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the air, and the game began.

The first twenty minutes of the match were painful to watch. Finn dropped the Quaffle twice in quick succession, leading to easy goals for Ravenclaw. The Gryffindor Beaters seemed out of sync, leaving their Chasers vulnerable to well-aimed Bludgers.

"Come on!" Poe's voice carried across the pitch as Ravenclaw scored again. "Wake up out there!" His good hand was clenched around the railing of the stands, his face tight with frustration.

Rey circled above, trying to stay focused on seeking while her teammates struggled below. The score was 70-20 to Ravenclaw when she saw it – a flash of gold near the Hufflepuff stands.

The Snitch.

Without hesitation, Rey dropped into the dive Kylo had helped her perfect. Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, spotted it a moment later and gave chase, but Rey had the advantage of momentum.

The Snitch darted toward the ground, then shot upward. Rey followed, remembering Kylo's words about timing over force. She let her body move with the broom instead of fighting it, spiraling upward in a perfect corkscrew that drew gasps from the crowd.

Chang was closing in from the left, her superior broom making up the distance. The Snitch changed direction again, heading straight for the Slytherin stands. Rey didn't hesitate – she rolled into the maneuver they'd practiced so many times in the darkness by the forest, letting muscle memory take over.

Her fingers closed around the Snitch just as Chang's hand grasped empty air.

The stadium erupted. "GRYFFINDOR WINS! 170-70! What an incredible catch by Rey! Is this the birth of Gryffindor's next Quidditch legend?"

Rey found herself surrounded by her cheering teammates, lifted onto their shoulders as the crowd chanted her name. She could see Poe jumping up and down despite his injury, his earlier frustration forgotten in the joy of victory.

"Did you see that spiral? That's professional-level flying!"

"Five more years of her as Seeker – the cup's as good as ours!"

"Move over, Dameron, there's a new star in Gryffindor!"

Through the chaos, Rey's eyes found the Slytherin stands. Kylo stood apart from the dispersing crowd, and for just a moment, his carefully maintained mask slipped. He gave her a small but genuine smile and a subtle nod – acknowledgment of their shared secret, of the hours of practice that had led to this moment. Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the stands.

"Party in the common room!" someone shouted, and Rey found herself being carried off the pitch in triumph, the Snitch still fluttering in her grip.

But even as her teammates celebrated around her, she couldn't help but think of the quiet figure who had made this victory possible.