Chapter 58. Some time to reflect and runes.
Present Timeline
The flickering light from the floating candles cast long shadows against the stone walls of Dumbledore's office. James Potter sat forward in his chair with his hands clasped together, a crease forming between his brows as he studied the elderly wizard across from him.
"It's been almost three months now, Albus," James said, with restrained desperation in his voice. "Can't you tell us anything about what you've found?"
Dumbledore sighed as his gaze swept the room, going from Harry to Lilly before his blue eyes settled on James with something akin to regret. He folded his hands atop his desk and silently wondered how the fourth meeting this week with the Potters would turn out.
"I'm sorry, James, but the information I have gathered is not something I am willing to share just yet," Dumbledore replied with a steady tone but lacking its usual warmth. "But rest assured, I am doing everything in my power to see that Ivy comes home before Christmas break."
James sighed, dragging a hand through his already dishevelled hair. The exhaustion showed in the dark circles beneath his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged under the weight of it all.
Lily sat beside him, her fingers curled tightly around the armrest of her chair as she heard the same reply for what felt like the hundredth time. She'd heard it while awake and even in her dreams. Her expression remained composed, but the tension in her jaw gave her away.
"In these hard times, we must stand strong," Dumbledore continued in a more gentler tone. "Ivy wouldn't want you to worry. And she is in good hands. I'm sure that Jakob is taking care of her."
James stiffened at the mention of the young Quade heir, knowing that there would come a reaction from mentioning the Slytherin boy. Across from him, Harry's expression darkened with anger.
"Why would he even care about her?" Harry snapped. "He's a Slytherin. He's selfish, and he—he cursed Ron—"
"Enough," Lily interrupted sharply as she turned to her son, levelling him with a firm gaze. "Don't speak badly about Jakob."
Harry's mouth opened in disbelief. "Mum—"
"He has done a lot for our family," she continued in a quieter voice now but no less resolute. "And if the Headmaster tells us that Ivy is alright, we need to trust him."
James let out a heavy sigh, nodding despite the slight frustration at having to take the Slytherin boy's side. "She's right, Harry."
But Harry wasn't listening. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his face flushed with a mix of anger and a slight look of betrayal.
"Why do you always take his side?" Harry burst out. "He is the reason my sister is gone!"
Lily's expression softened, but Harry had already turned on his heel before she could respond and stormed toward the door.
"Harry, wait—" James started, half-rising from his seat, but before he could stop him, the door slammed shut behind his son, leaving an echo that seemed to reverberate through the office.
James let out a frustrated breath, moving towards the door, ready to follow his son, but Dumbledore raised a hand, halting the Auror in his tracks.
"It would be wise to let him go, James," the headmaster said quietly. "Harry can't know the truth—not yet."
James turned back and gave his leader an incredulous glare as he gestured towards the door. "Why? Can't you see that Harry is suffering? He's blaming himself for what happened. He's blaming Heir Quade as well."
Dumbledore's expression grew sombre. "Because we made a promise to the boy, James," he said wearily. "We promised Jakob that we wouldn't let his secret out, about what happened between him and Ivy, about how he saved her."
James opened his mouth to argue, but Lily placed a gentle hand on his arm in a silent plea for him to trust the headmaster's judgment.
"Dear…" she said softly. "Do you even think Harry would believe us if we told him? He's angry, and he's scared. Right now, I think it's best if we let Dumbledore do what he needs to do to bring Ivy back."
James looked between his wife and the headmaster before his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he sighed, dragging a tired hand down his face. After a long pause, he finally nodded. "Of course," he murmured.
Lily stood, smoothing the front of her robes before she turned to Dumbledore. "Thank you for your time, Albus," she said. Though her words were polite, there was an unmistakable undercurrent of disappointment behind them.
James pushed back his chair, standing beside her. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "I hope, for all our sakes, you're right about this."
Dumbledore inclined his head. "I will do everything in my power to ensure Ivy's safe return."
James gave a stiff nod, then turned and followed Lily toward the door. He paused just before exiting, his fingers resting on the handle.
"If anything changes, you'll let us know?"
"Of course," Dumbledore assured him with a nod.
James hesitated for a second longer before finally pulling the door open and stepping out with Lily beside him. The door closed behind them with a quiet click, leaving the office silent.
Alone now, Dumbledore exhaled slowly and let his shoulders slump in the same way Lord Potter had moments before. His eyes drifted toward Fawkes, who was quietly perched on his golden stand. The phoenix let out a low, musical trill, tilting his head as if understanding the troubles its master went through.
"I don't want to lie to them, Fawkes," Dumbledore murmured, now free of the composure he'd forced himself to wear during the meeting. "But if they knew the truth, that I have nothing, they would be distraught."
Fawkes blinked, ruffling his fiery feathers, making them shimmer in the candlelight.
Dumbledore leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling with a faraway look in his eyes.
"There is too much happening now," he continued in a voice barely above a whisper. "And I fear what will happen if Jakob does not find a way back soon."
The Gryffindor common room was nearly empty, with only a few students lingering by the fireplace or curled up in chairs with their books. The late hour had driven most to bed, leaving the space mostly empty by the flickering fire. The crackling of the flames was the only sound that filled the silence between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry sat hunched over in one of the armchairs, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he glared into the fire. The frustration was still heavy in his chest from the meeting in Dumbledore's office, and the Potter boy tried his best to keep his breathing calm.
Hermione sat across from him on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her. She watched him carefully with a mix of concern and sympathy in her expression. Ron, who was seated beside her, leaned back against the cushions and crossed his arms, looking as though he already heard this conversation too many times before.
"They won't tell me anything," Harry muttered in resentment. "Three months, and they still have nothing. They just keep saying the same things over and over again. 'We're doing everything we can.' 'Trust Dumbledore.' 'Ivy is fine.'" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "How do they even know that? No one's seen her. No one's heard from her. And yet, they expect me to sit here and act like it's all going to be fine?"
Hermione frowned and slightly shifted. "Harry…" she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I know it's frustrating. I know it feels like they're keeping you in the dark, but maybe there's a reason for it."
Harry's head snapped up, and his green eyes flashed dangerously. "A reason? What possible reason could they have for keeping this from me? She's my sister, Hermione! I have a right to know what's going on!"
Hermione flinched at his tone but didn't back down. "I know," she said, but in a softer tone now. "But if Dumbledore is keeping something from you, maybe it's to protect you. Or to protect Ivy."
Harry let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand through his messy hair. "That's what they always say," he muttered darkly.
Silence followed. Neither Ron nor Hermione knew what to say. The fire crackled, sending up tiny sparks, and the warmth of the room suddenly felt suffocating.
Ron shifted beside Hermione, rubbing an eye with two of his fingers before letting out a deep sigh. "Look, mate, I get it. This whole thing is… bad. Really bad. But you're just torturing yourself by going over it again and again."
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I mean," Ron continued, leaning forward, "Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive. If anyone can bring Ivy back, it's him. And your parents, too. They're not just sitting around doing nothing." He tried with a slight grin. "You know, maybe she's off on some grand adventure. She's a Potter, right? Maybe she's hexing some Dark wizards into oblivion as we speak. Or maybe she is looking for some long-lost treasure."
Harry wasn't in the mood for jokes. He just wanted his sister back. She had always been there, and this had been the longest they had been away from each other. "This isn't funny, Ron."
The redhead's forced smile faded. He leaned back in his seat with a little more force than necessary, and for a brief moment, his frustration flickered through. "I know it's not," he muttered, more to himself than to Harry.
Hermione glanced between the two of them, sensing the tension. "Ron's just trying to help," she said gently, looking at Harry. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but we are on your side."
Harry sighed, his frustration giving way to the guilt of how he was treating his friends. He knew that. He knew Hermione and Ron weren't the ones keeping information from him. They weren't the ones leaving him powerless.
But that didn't make it any easier.
He shook his head, leaning back into the armchair, still keeping his gaze fixed on the flames. "I just don't understand why they trust Quade so much," he muttered. "Why does everyone act like he's some kind of hero? They talk about him as if he's looking after Ivy as if he actually cares about what happens to her. But he's a Slytherin. And he's dangerous."
Hermione hesitated, furrowing her brows. "Harry…" she said carefully. "Maybe it's not that simple."
Harry scoffed. "It is that simple. People like him, like Malfoy, like his whole bloody family, they don't care about anyone but themselves. He's probably using her as some kind of leverage, and Dumbledore and my parents are just letting him!"
Hermione looked like she debated on sating something before sighing almost as if in defeat. "We don't know that."
Ron made a slight noise of protest. "I mean, it is a little weird, isn't it?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "That a guy like Quade, who's supposed to be some big-shot heir, would go through all this trouble for Ivy?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "Or maybe he does care about her," she said quietly.
Harry and Ron both turned to her at that.
Ron gave her a sceptical look. "Quade? Care about someone?" He snorted. "He's a manipulative git, Hermione. He doesn't do things unless it benefits him."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I remember my first year when someone called me things and thought to have me all figured out as well."
Ron made a face but didn't give a retort.
Harry wasn't having any of it. "Even if he helped her," he said through gritted teeth, "that doesn't mean he isn't dangerous. He cursed you, Ron."
Ron scowled at the reminder. "I really hope he gets back so I can return the favour."
"Harry." Hermione tried once again. "You remember what happened in the hospital wing. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't care," he muttered. "I don't trust him. And I don't understand why my parents do."
Hermione reached out but hesitated to touch him. "I know you're angry," she said softly. "And I know you miss Ivy. But if you keep letting this consume you, you'll only end up hurting yourself."
Harry clenched his jaw, staring at the fire again.
Ron sighed, standing up and stretching. "Alright, I think we've reached the part of the night where I say something incredibly wise and insightful, and then we all go to bed feeling slightly better about our lives."
Harry barely reacted.
Ron sighed again. "Or, alternatively, we all sit here and stew in misery until the sun comes up. Your choice, mate."
Hermione shot Ron a warning look before standing up and gently touching Harry's shoulder. "Try to get some sleep," she urged. "It won't change anything overnight, but it'll help."
Harry nodded absently, though he wasn't sure he'd actually follow her advice.
Ron clapped him on the back before heading for the dormitory stairs. "Night, mate. Try not to destroy anything while we sleep."
Hermione lingered for a moment, watching Harry carefully before sighing and following Ron up the stairs.
Harry stayed where he was, and after hearing their footsteps disappear up the stairs, a lone tear escaped its prison and slid down his cheek.
"I really need you to come back, Ivy." He whispered, feeling the sorrow he had tried to smother with rage and frustration rising and taking over again.
No matter what they said, no matter how many times he was told to wait, to trust, to have patience, he couldn't shake the feeling that the time was running out.
Back to the founder's timeline.
The weeks had progressed faster than Jakob would have liked. When he, Pansy and Ivy returned from their crusade, they stumbled back into the familiar halls of Hogwarts. They had been exhausted but victorious.
Their return had been met with equal parts curiosity and awe. The founders had listened intently as they recounted their journey, the war, and what they had been forced to do to get the sand. Even Slytherin, who often held himself apart from outward displays of emotion, had looked upon Jakob with something close to respect.
"You not only survived," Salazar had mused, his piercing gaze fixed on Jakob, "but returned with knowledge and the deaths of countless muggles. You are… interesting, boy."
Helga had been more openly warm, placing a comforting hand on Ivy's shoulder, a proud gleam in her eyes. "You are both stronger than when you left," she had said as she met Ivy's slightly haunted eyes in understanding. "That will serve you well."
Pansy had thrown herself back into Slytherin's studies. With the knowledge of what his new student was capable of, Salazar had begun teaching her more advanced spell work, curses, defensive wards, and magical theory far more dangerous than anything Hogwarts would dare cover in later centuries.
She had proven surprisingly adept, with her instincts leaning toward enchantments and more subtle forms of manipulation. Her finesse and precision were strengths Salazar took particular interest in.
Meanwhile, Jakob's private lessons with Morgan le Fay had continued, leading him further into the darker roots of magic. Rituals grew more complex and required a clearer mind, which she taught him as much as she could with the bit of time she had. Morgan also began teaching him about demons, and more importantly, she taught him her own ways of controlling the darkness within himself and taught him that control wasn't about denying his nature but learning to master it.
On the other hand, Ivy had continued her training under Godric Gryffindor. He had fully taken her under his wing, teaching her the art of battle magic. Spells are meant for combat. Quick, brutal, and efficient became part of her routine, alongside weapon wielding and hand-to-hand technique. She trained with sword and shield, wand and reflex. The fire that had dimmed in her eyes sensed that their visit to Jerusalem had only grown fiercer with each lesson with the man. After witnessing the brutality of war first-hand and feeling the weight of her own helplessness, Ivy had fully committed to learning not just how to fight but how to protect. She now understood what saving a life truly demanded, and she had no intention of ever feeling powerless again.
They had taken a break at Ivy's insistence, sneaking off to visit Hogsmeade for the first time since their return. In this era, the village was still young and less structured, with muddy paths instead of cobbled streets and houses built with hand-carved beams and rune-inscribed stones. There were fewer shops, most of them run out of modest homes or open stalls, but the place held a rustic charm that felt oddly refreshing. The air smelled of firewood and fresh herbs, and elderly witches peddled potions beside children selling sugared plums wrapped in parchment.
They wandered past a leatherworker hammering out enchanted gloves and paused at a candle shop, where each flame flickered a different hue depending on the emotion of the person holding it. Jakob bought one that shone light pink, with a soft scent of vanilla and honey, for Ella when they would return.
Their steps eventually led them to the Three Broomsticks, though it was barely recognizable by modern standards. At this time, it was little more than a wide stone hearth with mismatched tables clustered around it. Smoke curled up to the ceiling beams where dried herbs hung in thick bunches before it magically disappeared as it reached the roof.
They took a dare and ordered drinks from the bartender, who didn't more than briefly look them over before sliding three ales across the bar. The liquid was strong, much stronger than in their own time, which made every gulp feel like they were swallowing fire with a trace of honey. After a few mugs, Ivy was flushed in the cheeks, slouched halfway over the table, giggling at something Jakob had said that wasn't particularly funny. Jakob was trying to stay composed, but his sharp edges and tense posture had softened, replaced by a loose smirk and slow blinks.
On the other hand, Pansy looked toughly amused at her company's actions, sitting with one leg crossed over the other and sipping her ale like it was wine, taking her time rather than heaving it down like her two companions beside her.
Jakob had just started to recount an absurd lesson with Salazar, something involving a possessed quill and a nearly set-on-fire tapestry when a woman approached their table.
She was older, maybe in her mid-twenties, with long dark hair and a walk that suggested she was far more used to getting attention than being told no. She leaned in over Jakob's shoulder, making the teenage boy smell the scent of a heavy and spicy perfume.
"Haven't seen you around before," she said in a low flirtatious voice. "You're not from here."
Jakob turned his head, still smiling, but there was already a hint of discomfort in his expression. "No. Just visiting."
"Mm," she hummed, brushing her fingers at the edge of his shoulder. "Well. I'd be happy to make your stay more… enjoyable."
Ivy, who had giggled a moment ago, now blinked in surprise at the obvious invitation.
Jakob gave an awkward chuckle, trying to shift away. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not interested."
The woman's smile didn't falter, looking almost like she enjoyed the situation more now that he had declined her. "Are you sure? I can show you things that your two friends here are too young to even understand."
Pansy snorted into her drink, watching the woman advance like it was theatre.
"I'm sure," Jakob said again, more firmly this time.
The woman narrowed her eyes, annoyed at being dismissed. Her gaze slid to Ivy and Pansy and settled on the black-haired girl, who gave her a smirk at the failed attempt. "Well, when you are tired of child's play, you know where to find me." She said to the boy, holding Pansy's gaze with a sneer.
Pansy raised a brow. "Excuse me?"
Jakob barely had time to react before Ivy was up on her feet.
"What did you just say?" she snapped, getting up but struggling to stand straight as the world began to spin.
The woman took a step back, surprised, but only for a moment. "I said maybe he'd prefer someone who doesn't follow him around like a pair of desperate, heated dogs."
Ivy threw the first punch.
Chaos followed.
Chairs scraped. A mug shattered. An older wizard cheered, almost as if he had waited his whole life for this moment.
Jakob sighed as he stood, stepping through the cluster of gasps and protests as Ivy launched herself at the woman. He caught her around the waist just as she was swinging for a second time and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Put me down!" Ivy shouted, trying to squirm her way out of his grip, but even though Gryffindor had taught her himself, Jakob's grip was iron.
"You started a tavern brawl, Ivy," Jakob said flatly. "You don't get a say anymore."
The pub's owner shouted something about hexes and bans. Pansy, laughing so hard she could barely walk straight, waved over her shoulder and followed them out.
Outside, the cold air hit them immediately, sobering them slightly as they made their way back down the muddy path. Ivy was finally let down and sulked all the way to the edge of the village, muttering curses under her breath. Jakob just shook his head, brushing hay from his cloak, while Pansy still hadn't stopped giggling.
"That was, honestly," she said between breathless laughter, "the most fun I've had in weeks."
The following day, as if to reset their senses, the trio ventured into the forest.
In this era, it was wilder but not yet tainted. The air was crisp and clear, the trees towering overhead, their branches twisting together like guardians of something ancient and untouched. Moss grew thick on the ground, and silver mist hung between the roots.
They saw a pair of unicorns near a shallow stream, so pure and bright they seemed to glow against the dim underbrush. Ivy gasped and froze in place as the creatures looked up. The moment held, timeless and still, before the unicorns trotted deeper into the woods.
There were other creatures in the forest as well. A small herd of mooncalves moved silently in a clearing, and a massive boar-like beast with curled tusks watched them from the treeline before disappearing into the foliage.
But as autumn turned colder and the trees stood bare against the grey sky, they once again found themselves in their common room, hunched over their work. The enthusiasm for the runes had long since faded and been replaced by the frustration of chasing after the last memories of the rune scheme.
Jakob exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temple as he stared at the intricate symbols before him. "This is becoming unbearable," he muttered. "If I have to stare at these damn runes for another hour, I might set the parchment on fire just to watch it burn."
Pansy, who had been flipping through an old tome in search of another reference, rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that would solve everything," she remarked dryly.
Jakob huffed, leaning back in his chair and glancing toward the window. The sky was painted in shades of deep blue and purple, the last remnants of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon.
"We should have stayed in Hogsmeade," he muttered. "Or the forest. Or literally anywhere but here."
Ivy, who was lying on her stomach across the floor with parchment scattered around her like a paper explosion, turned her head and shot Jakob a smirk. "And let the runes win?"
Jakob sighed, barely amused, as his eyes dropped again to the circle of symbols before him. The lines were starting to blur together, all ancient markings and headache-inducing loops, but he knew they were close. Closer than they'd been in weeks.
"I'm not letting them win," he muttered. "I'm just considering arson as a valid scholarly response."
Ivy snorted.
She frowned suddenly, her gaze locking onto a rune scribbled in the margin of one of the books beside her. She sat up, pulling the tome closer as her fingers traced the markings. "Jake," she said, furrowing her brows. "You said the last rune was Tal'varien, right?"
Jakob looked up with a tired expression. "Roughly. The description matched that in some ways. It has twisted lines and has something to do with inverse flow, meant to anchor or bind the sequence."
Ivy flipped the book around and held it up. "This one. It matches the anchor pattern. See the layered structure?"
Jakob stood and crossed the room in a few quick strides, leaning over to examine the rune closely. His eyes scanned the delicate lines, the sharp inner spiral, the runic notches branching like roots from a central stem. His breath caught.
"That's the one." His voice was barely above a whisper, but excitement surged behind it. He reached for his own parchment with renewed energy. "That's it. We only need the last one, and if I link it here…"
He trailed off, and his fingers stopped moving.
On the other side of the room, Pansy, half reclined on the couch, having her legs tucked under her with her book still opened in her lap, glanced over the edge of the page. She noticed Jakob's silence, the sudden stillness in his posture.
"Jakob?" she called in a cautious yet curious tone.
He didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the diagram in front of him. Slowly, he reached for his quill and ink, moving his hands with a precision that came from certainty rather than the usual roughness that came from guesswork.
He scribbled down the two remaining runes, first the one Ivy had found, then a second that seemed to fall into place as if the parchment had been waiting for it all along. The lines formed a complete circle, the scheme locking into itself with perfect symmetry.
He stared at it, then sat back slowly, a tired but victorious grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"We're finally done with this hell," Jakob whispered.
Pansy moved over without a word and settled on Jakob's right side. Ivy leaned in, her red hair brushing the parchment's edge as all three stared down at the completed rune scheme.
Each line and mark was perfectly connected, and the long hours of frustration and dead ends finally gave way to a satisfactory result.
"Are we finally returning home?" Pansy asked hopefully as her eyes flicked to the raven-haired boy's face.
Jakob sighed, letting himself lean back against the seat.
"No. Not yet."
Pansy blinked. "What? But the runes—"
Jakob shook his head. "We still need to make sure someone in our time gets the instructions. They'll need to know how to open the door and when. If we leave without knowing they got that message… we're stuck."
"That sounds almost impossible," Pansy muttered, crossing her arms and looking between him and Ivy with a mixture of disbelief and fatigue. "It's not like we can just write a letter and owl it to the future."
Ivy sighed and unknowingly shifted her gaze toward the window, where the pale glow of moonlight was seeping into the room as night had fallen.
Jakob's brows furrowed as his thoughts raced. He didn't speak for a moment. Then, something shifted in his expression. His mouth twitched, not into a smirk, but a genuine smile.
"Don't wait up for me."
"What?" Pansy blinked confusedly as Jakob pushed off the chair and hurriedly made his way toward the door.
"Jakob?" Ivy asked, rising halfway, but he didn't stop. He gave them a small wave and disappeared down the corridor with determined steps.
Pansy watched him go, then turned toward Ivy, who was still seated beside her but now wore a far-off expression, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Ivy said quickly in a calm voice as she stood, but there was something Pansy took note of, something behind the redhead's eyes as she slipped into her room without another word.
Pansy blinked, then huffed. "She sure is weird," she muttered to herself, stretching before heading off to her own room for the night.
Meanwhile, Jakob had wandered through the quiet corridors of the castle, not slowing his pace until he reached the Great Hall. He stepped through the archway and stood still for a moment, taking in the sight.
The enchanted ceiling above shimmered with stars and drifting clouds, just as it always had.
"It looks exactly the same," he whispered in slight surprise. He hadn't really known what to expect, but seeing everything as it was in his own timeline had not been it.
The click of footsteps echoed across the stone floor behind him, and the one he had searched for spoke up.
"You know you aren't allowed in the Great Hall at this hour."
Jakob turned, already knowing who he would find.
Rowena Ravenclaw stood just inside the archway, her arms neatly folded in front of her.
Jakob gave a slight, respectful nod. "Lady Ravenclaw… actually, I was hoping to see you."
Her brow lifted. "Oh?"
"I need your help with something."
Morgan sat in her study as she often did at this hour, the only light coming from the flickering candles as her quill scratched across the parchment of her grimoire. She was lost in thought; the steady rhythm of her writing interrupted only when a soft knock echoed against the heavy wooden door.
She paused, lifted her head, and set the quill aside.
"Enter," she called with a curious frown.
The door creaked slowly open, and Jakob stepped inside, holding a wooden box, no larger than a small, polished chest, under his right arm.
"I'm sorry to disturb you this late," he said evenly but in a quieter-than-usual voice. "I only wanted to tell you something."
Morgan closed her grimoire with a soft thud, folding her hands atop it as she leaned back in her chair.
"Oh? And what would that be?"
Jakob stepped forward and gently placed the box on her desk. He didn't speak for a moment, looking around the room as if searching for the right words until he cleared his throat.
"We've found a way back," he began, looking directly at her. "We're leaving in the morning."
Morgan tilted her head slightly but said nothing, a sign that told the boy to keep talking.
Jakob glanced down at the box, running his fingers lightly across the grain. "I only managed to take one thing from the trip to Jerusalem," he added. "If I'd been as greedy as Ivy, I'd probably have walked out wearing a crown."
He muttered the last part with a faint scowl, clearly still annoyed at his own restraint but shook it off.
"But… I wanted you to have it," he said, pushing the box toward her. "As a sign of gratitude. For everything you've done for me these past weeks."
Morgan leaned forward and opened the box. Her gaze landed on the simple chalice nestled inside, and her expression immediately flattened.
"You shouldn't have," she said dryly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as she lifted the cup with one hand and turned it toward the light.
Jakob gave a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, I know. It looks boring. But it mattered to the Crusaders. They guarded it like it was sacred. And…" he hesitated, watching her reaction, "there's something about it. A magic I've never felt before. I thought it might be worth studying."
Morgan's gaze lingered on the chalice, and for a brief moment, her eyes caught the faint inscription etched along the base. Her eyes widened in surprise, just for a fraction of a second before it vanished in her schooled expression.
"If I find anything," she said lightly, placing the chalice back in the box, "I'll write it down."
She closed the lid and stood, walking around the desk until she came to stand in front of him.
"So this is it," she started with a sigh that almost sounded sorrowful. "You don't wish to stay for a few more days?"
Jakob offered her a small apologetic smile. "If things were different, maybe. But it's been months since we left. I have no idea what kind of chaos I'm walking back into, and I don't think I can afford to wait any longer."
Morgan closed her eyes at hearing the finality in his voice, unknowingly showing more emotion than she likely meant to reveal. She gave a nod, though her eyes began to give off a faint shimmer in the candlelight.
"Well… if you ever have the opportunity to visit again, don't be a stranger."
She stepped forward, closing the space between them, and wrapped her arms around him. Her grip was firm but also gentle, a kind of embrace she had only given twice before.
Jakob blinked in confusion, momentarily caught off guard, but then he raised his arms and returned the gesture, holding on just as tightly.
They stood there for a while, neither feeling the need nor even the willingness to let go just yet.
Back to the present timeline.
Dumbledore sat in his seat at the staff table, his plate nearly untouched, the food growing cold as every meal had these passing weeks. The Great Hall, usually filled with a warm buzz of chatter and clinking cutlery, felt dimmer somehow in the headmaster's mind. He noticed that some of the student's gazes turned to him, looking at the old wizard with a questioning expression as if silently asking if he had found a way to save them yet.
He hadn't.
The Minister had earlier this week delivered his latest demand with clipped words and little patience. "End of next week, Albus. If they're not back by then, the Ministry will intervene."
Dumbledore's mind had replayed that scene in his head like a broken record these past few days, and he sighed in defeat as it played itself again.
What Dumbledore didn't know was that, far above his head, tucked behind one of the old wooden beams of the enchanted ceiling, a letter had secretly been resting.
Invisible to the naked eye, hidden by a preservation charm and other intricate runes, it had remained untouched by time. Ravenclaw herself had placed it there, creating a bridge of ever-flowing magic to power the runes, strengthened by the castle's own magic, the same way she had created the Room of Requirement.
The parchment, not showing the slightest hint of age and perfectly preserved, bore Jakob Quade's handwriting. Its ink had dried in the Founders' era, and the letters had waited for centuries to be read.
It had witnessed the creation of the Sorting Hat and watched it sort student after student. It had observed generation after generation passes beneath it, filling the Great Hall with laughter, rivalry, and tradition. It had seen another, younger Jakob Quade sorted into Slytherin, entirely unaware of the letter's quiet existence above his head. And had it been capable of thought, it might have known that its long wait was finally nearing its end.
Below, Dumbledore continued to dwell on his current problem. His hands rested beside his untouched plate, but his attention was far from the food. His eyes stared forward, fixed on nothing. His mind, as it often was these days, was elsewhere.
Above, nestled in the rafters, the subtle and ancient rune scheme began to shift. Its glowing lines flickered softly, like embers in a dying fire, before, one by one, they vanished.
With the last of the magic gone, the envelope dislodged from the beam and began its silent, slow descent.
Dumbledore frowned, his eyes lifting just as the envelope drifted into view.
Around the hall, conversation faded. Forks paused in mid-air. One by one, students turned to look upward, watching the envelope glide like a snowflake through the air.
Dumbledore lifted his hand, and after a few moments, the envelope settled lightly into his palm.
The moment he saw the handwriting, something shifted in his expression and for the first time in weeks, the light returned to his eyes.
He broke the Hogwarts seal with care and unfolded the parchment inside. His gaze moved over the page, and a slow, quiet smile began to form.
"What is it?" McGonagall asked in a sharp but composed tone. "Who is it from?"
"It's from Heir Quade," Dumbledore replied, his gaze rising to meet hers. "He's given the time, the place… and instructions on how to open the door. For himself and his two companions."
Lily Potter's breath caught.
She gripped the edge of the table as the tension she had been carrying for months left her all at once. She leaned back in her chair, pale but with a clear relief in her expression.
Dumbledore rose with the letter still in his hand, reading the final lines with those twinkling eyes the old headmaster was known.
"When?" Lily asked, barely above a whisper. "When are they coming back?"
Dumbledore looked down at the paper and lifted one eyebrow before meeting her gaze again.
"Exactly ten o'clock," he said. "With the aid of the four founders, no less."
For a moment, the hall remained frozen.
Then, the silence broke.
A wave of murmurs swept through the room, followed by scattered voices—questions, guesses and excitement. Students turned to each other. Teachers leaned in across the table, already speculating over what it could mean.
But Dumbledore didn't hear them.
His focus remained on the parchment in his hand.
The one he had waited far too long to read.
And somewhere in his chest, something that had long been buried stirred again.
Hope.
Back to the founder's timeline.
Jakob opened his dorm room door and walked inside, tired but happy after finishing the preparations for their journey back home tomorrow.
He took off his clothes and slipped under the covers, closing his eyes as he let sleep pull at him. The door opened slowly, allowing the flickering light from the fireplace out in the common room to stretch into his dorm. Jakob, already half-asleep, didn't even open his eyes as he heard the hurried footsteps approaching.
A faint smile touched his lips as the covers lifted, and another body slipped beneath them as if drawn to the warmth.
"When we get back, you won't have to…" He paused. Something was off. The shape wasn't what he was used to; it was... curvy. He opened his eyes.
Ivy was lying beside him with her face close to his, her eyes filled with something between sadness and want.
"Ivy, what's the matter? Why are you—"
She kissed him before he could finish the sentence, her warm skin pressing against his side.
He felt her hand almost immediately begin to purposely move across his body in search of something. She paused her kissing as her fingers slid beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping her warm, smooth hand around him with a slow yet firm motion.
His eyes widened briefly as she began to make an up-and-down movement and started to kiss him again.
Jakob, too tired to argue and in no mood to try and reason with the redhead, did the same as he had done last time to make her stop. He slowly moved his hand up along her leg. But this time, she didn't pull away.
She shifted her body, moving her leg slightly to widen the gap between her inner thighs and giving him easier access.
He frowned, feeling more confused and more aroused than he wanted to admit, and he couldn't stop his fingers as they continued upward.
Her hand moved faster the closer his hand reached his goal.
He continued a bit faster, knowing he wouldn't last if she kept going at this pace. But when his fingers met resistance, his eyes widened slightly at the feel. She was warm, already moving her hips in a slow rhythm, not even waiting for him to take the lead.
A soft sound escaped her throat, and the hand that had been working him so relentlessly faltered for just a moment. Unsure of what he was even doing at this point, Jakob responded the way instinct told him to. He pressed his fingers more firmly, matching the movement of her hips as he worked in a slow, circular motion, keeping a steady pressure.
The fabric of her underwear grew damper beneath his touch, and as he brushed along her slit, the heat and friction, paired with the sound of her breathing, sent a sharp jolt through him.
They kissed again, deeper this time, more urgent. One of them was close. Both of them knew it.
Jakob struggled to keep his focus. Something was starting to build inside him, forcing his fingers to slow. The kiss lost rhythm, and Ivy noticed it instantly.
Her mouth broke from his, a grin spreading across her face as she stared down at him, clearly satisfied with the way his expression tensed under her touch.
The Slytherin boy, realizing what she was doing, tried to shift his body and break her hold. He wasn't going to let her win that easily.
But Ivy was faster.
She straddled him in one quick motion, pressing herself down hard to lock him in place. As she did, they both became suddenly aware that her panties had shifted, likely from the dampness and his earlier work with his fingers. When she climbed on top, they had slipped aside without either of them noticing.
But they noticed now.
There was nothing between them now, and Jakob felt her full warmth settle directly over him.
He opened his mouth, about to say something, that this was moving too fast, that it was too risky, but before he could get out a single word, Ivy started moving. Fast, controlled humps rolled through her hips, grinding against him in a fast and steady rhythm.
The bed began to creak beneath them.
Jakob tried half-heartedly to push her off by lifting his waist, but the motion only made the sensation worse. Or better. Ivy pinned his wrists beside his head, holding him down with more strength than he expected, her hips grinding faster now. She shifted forward slightly, aligning herself just right, chasing a particular spot as she moved over him.
Jakob was lost in the rhythm of her body, the scent of her skin, and the sounds, feeling the last of his control slip away.
She could feel him twitch, his body starting to tense. He was close. And so was she.
For a second, she thought he might beat her to it.
But then his eyes squeezed shut, and that was all she needed.
Victory.
In a sudden motion, Jakob broke free from her hold. His hands flew to her hips, gripping tightly as he pressed her down against him. His fingers dug into her skin. Everything inside him tightened.
She gasped, her body freezing as she felt the sudden burst of heat spreading across her thighs and soaking into the space between them.
Jakob's grip loosened as he dropped back against the bed with laboured breaths. His eyes almost drowsily opened, blinking up at her in disbelief.
Ivy was still straddling him, stunned for a moment. She looked down, saw the white, unfamiliar mess now between them, and then back up at him, her mouth parting just slightly.
"You liked that, didn't you?" she asked, leaning down and kissing him softly, waiting for his reply.
"You know we can't keep doing this when we get back home," Jakob whispered, turning his head to avoid her gaze.
"You'll be with your friends, and I'll be with mine. Ivy… you're only punishing yourself."
She smiled faintly and moved off him, lying down against his arm.
"Why can't we?" she said softly. "I want to be with you. And you—"
"You don't want to be with me," he interrupted in a low, certain tone. "You've built up some idea in your head… some version of me that doesn't exist." He finished and sighed, feeling the frustration creeping into his voice.
Her smile faded.
She turned her face away, wiping at a tear before he could see too much.
Once again, he'd found a way to ruin the moment.
"One day, you'll see what I do," she whispered. "And then we can finally start our little adventure."
She leaned in, kissed his cheek gently, and then slipped out of the bed. Her steps were quick, but her hand was careful as she closed the door quietly behind her.
Jakob sighed again, sharper this time, as he dragged a hand over his face.
"Why is she so persistent?"
He grabbed his wand from the bedside table, cleaned himself up with a quick flick, and then lay back again, fixing his eyes on the ceiling above.
"If she knew who I really was… and what I'm planning," he muttered to himself, "she wouldn't even want to look at me."
The next day, the three stood together on the rune scheme Jakob had prepared. The markings beneath their feet glowed faintly, responding to the energy pulsing through the stone.
In front of them stood the four founders, with Morgan by their side. She gave Jakob a gentle smile.
"It has been an honour to meet you all," Jakob said, bowing his head sincerely. "Thank you for the hospitality."
Pansy and Ivy followed his lead, bowing respectfully towards the five adults.
"Nonsense," Hufflepuff replied with a warm, teary smile. "You are our students. If we weren't helping you, we might as well close the school."
Salazar gave Pansy a long look, then nodded. "Make sure history remembers you on your own terms and not on theirs."
Gryffindor gave Ivy a single nod. "You've learned more than just swordplay, I hope."
"I'll try to keep my temper in check," she replied, though her grin betrayed little intention of doing so.
Rowena stepped forward, brushing her fingers briefly along Ivy's shoulder. "Remember our earlier talk, and stay clever," she said simply.
Everyone briefly looked toward Ravenclaw, who sighed, clearly catching the unspoken questions behind the glances.
"Just because I won't teach students Gryffindor chooses to train," she muttered, "doesn't mean I won't speak to them."
Jakob shrugged and turned his attention to Morgan, meeting her eyes for a moment before offering her a deeper bow. "Thank you. For everything."
"Take care, Jakob. And remember to read the book when you get back," she answered softly.
He gave a slight nod in return, then reached for the pouch tied at his side. His fingers slipped inside, brushing against the sand as he turned to the two standing beside him.
Ivy looked around one last time as she stepped into place beside Jakob, looking around one last time before her gaze landed on the runes by their feet.
Pansy reached for Jakob's arm, not tightly, just enough for him to feel it. She knew the sensation that came with this new type of magical travel, and she wasn't looking forward to it… even if she was looking forward to going home.
"Are you two ready?" Jakob asked quietly, giving both girls a quick look. "And if you've forgotten anything, we won't be coming back to fetch it."
Back to the present timeline.
"They'll be here any minute. Prepare yourselves," Dumbledore said before turning back, his gaze settling on the three families standing a few meters away.
Plenty had wanted to witness the return. Even the Ministry had voiced its opinion. But with Lord Quade's backing, Dumbledore had managed to keep the welcoming party small.
His eyes shifted to Thomas, who stood in silence with his gaze locked on the rune system, watching it with unwavering focus as if triple-checking that everything was in place. Beside him stood his daughter, Jakob's sister. Emma's expression was carefully schooled into something unreadable, but Dumbledore saw it in her eyes. The worry she tried so hard to bury.
Just next to them, the Parkinsons stood quietly. They wore the same calm and collected expressions as Emma, but their hands were tightly knitted together, and the old headmaster noticed that the grip was just a little too firm to go unnoticed.
A few meters off stood Harry, not masking the tension he felt in the slightest as he had his eyes fixed on the glowing runes, much like Lord Quade. Lily stood to his left and James to his right. And beside them, we're their closest friend and ally, Sirius Black, with his arms crossed. Sirius's head tilted slightly to the right as he watched the scene with a steady intensity that didn't quite match the relaxed posture he pretended to hold.
There had been some debate about allowing Lord Black to be present. But since the two dark families didn't particularly care about the "idiot Auror," as they'd called him, they agreed after Dumbledore's promise that no one else would be allowed.
Of course, that didn't stop the rest of the school.
Inside the castle, students and staff filled every window facing the courtyard, pressing their faces against the glass to witness the event of the century.
Dumbledore had even overheard a rumour that the Weasley twins had been selling parchment tickets for the best window views, complete with chairs and popcorn, if one paid for what they apparently called the "Galleon Package."
"Are you sure about this?" James asked in a low voice, unable to mask the worry beneath it.
"Don't be an idiot. If my son gave the instructions, you can trust they're accurate," Thomas snapped in a tone that told everyone that he was a hundred percent sure that everything would work out as his heir intended.
But Dumbledore caught it. The sharpness was there, but the weight behind it wasn't. The confidence didn't quite reach its usual fullness. And while James didn't reply, there was a flicker of relief in his expression.
Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak but then halted before the sound became words.
A few meters away, the runes had begun to glow, a faint red, pulsing brighter and brighter with each passing second.
"Everyone, stand back!" Dumbledore called. He stepped away, fixing his excited gaze on the circle as it started to give off a growing hum.
All around them, silence fell like a blanket. Even the students and staff crammed against the windows held their breath.
Then, an explosion of white light.
It exploded from the circle, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. No one knew if this was a good or bad sign, if the wight light meant that the plan had worked or if it had failed.
But when the brightness finally faded and the clearing became visible again, only two figures stood in the circle.
Pansy and Ivy looked around, both wearing matching expressions of panic, their eyes scanning the clearing without acknowledging the crowd watching them.
"Jakob?!" Ivy cried, spinning around. "Jakob, where are you?!"
Her voice cracked, rising in volume as her eyes searched the courtyard. "No—no, this can't be happening. Jakob!"
"Where is my son?!" Thomas roared, crossing the distance in seconds. He grabbed Pansy by the shoulders. "Where is Jakob? What happened?!"
Pansy hands trembled as they moved to her head before gripping her hair as if to ground herself. "We were on our way here," she stammered, her voice already breaking. "Everything was spinning. He smiled at us and said we'd be there soon, but then he just… he stopped. Something changed, and he must have felt it."
Her voice cracked completely as the tears already forming in her eyes began to fall.
"He knew something was wrong before we did. Then, out of nowhere, something or someone grabbed him and yanked him out of the circle. We tried, we tried to hold on, but—" Her knees gave out, and she dropped to the ground, sobbing.
Ivy stood just beside her in total shock. Her eyes were glazed, her lips slightly parted as if her mind hadn't yet caught up to the moment. Only the tears running silently down her cheeks made it clear she was still present at all.
The Parkinsons were first to reach Pansy, falling beside her and pulling her into their arms. A second later, Lily and James moved to Ivy, trying to coax her to sit, to speak, anything.
Thomas stared down at Pansy and looked as stunned as Ivy before slowly stepping back. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Then his wide eyes turned to Dumbledore, not with anger. But with fear.
"What could have done that?" he asked in a flat voice. "What kind of thing could pull someone out mid-transfer?"
Dumbledore didn't answer at first. His mind was racing, reaching for an explanation that didn't exist.
"I don't know," he finally said in a clipped tone. "But I do know Jakob, and he will return. But not unless he has another door." The headmaster's eyes flicked to the scattered tools and materials still lying on the grass from the last circle.
"Hurry!" he barked, already moving.
Author's Note:
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