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30th of October, 1994 Ravenclaw Common Room

Jess watched Adrian's retreating form until he disappeared through the common room door. Even then, she didn't move.

The tension in the room was intense. The whispers had already started, curling through the air like poisonous mist. Jess knew how Ravenclaws worked—intelligent, sharp, merciless with knowledge. The moment Adrian had failed to defend himself, they had taken his silence as confirmation.

"Good riddance," Terry muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You don't get expelled from Durmstrang for something small. That place is a bloody fortress for dark magic, and even they kicked him out? What does that tell you?"

Padma exhaled sharply. "We don't know what happened, Terry."

"Yeah? And whose fault is that?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You heard Dimitri—Adrian didn't even deny it. He just stood there."

Jess clenched her jaw. It was true. Adrian had stood there, fists clenched, eyes burning—but he hadn't fought back. He had let the accusation hang in the air, unanswered.

Still, something about it didn't sit right with her.

"He said he was defending himself," she muttered, arms crossed.

Terry gave a humourless laugh. "That's what they all say, Jess. 'Oh, I had no choice. I was forced into it. It wasn't dark magic, I swear.' You know how many Death Eaters tried that same defence after the war?"

"That's not fair," Jess shot back, her voice sharper than she intended. "Adrian's not a Death Eater."

"Then what is he?"

The question lingered, biting into her skin like frost.

Jess looked around. The common room was filled with uneasy murmurs, people glancing at the staircase where Adrian had vanished. Ravenclaws weren't known for their forgiveness—they prided themselves on their intelligence, and right now, the logical conclusion was Adrian had lied to them all.

She swallowed, glancing at Terry and Padma.

"I… I think I should talk to him."

Terry let out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Jess. He just stormed out after losing his mind on us, and you want to have a heart-to-heart?"

Padma hesitated. "I mean… maybe we should at least hear him out?"

Terry's expression hardened. "You do whatever you want. But if he really is dangerous, don't expect me to feel bad when this blows up in your face."

Jess ignored him.

She turned on her heel and strode toward the stairs, a gnawing unease curling in her gut. She didn't know what she was going to say.

But she needed to see Adrian.

30th Of October, 1994 The Chamber Of Secrets

Adrian told Rem everything.

For what felt like an hour, his words poured out like venom. He didn't hold back—not this time, not anymore. He told Rem about Durmstrang, about Dimitri, about Karkaroff. About the suffocating weight of it all. The betrayal. The isolation. The whispers that followed him no matter where he went, twisting the truth until it became a weapon aimed at his back.

He had tried to move on. He had tried to be normal. To have friends. To just live.

But now? Now, it was over.

The fire inside him burned too hot to ignore.

Rem listened in silence, his luminous blue eyes unblinking. He did not interrupt. Did not ask questions. He simply watched, absorbing every bitter word, every ounce of rage and exhaustion that Adrian spat into the chamber's darkness.

When Adrian finally finished, when the last of his fury left his tongue and all that remained was the raw, pulsing ache in his chest, Rem exhaled.

It was not pitying.

Not mocking.

It was something else. Something heavier.

"You have been wronged in the past, boy," Rem murmured, his voice low, edged with something unreadable. "You sought belonging, and in return, you were cast aside. You fought, and they condemned you for it. You stood, and they tore you down."

His glowing eyes narrowed slightly, studying Adrian.

"And now," Rem said, voice curling around the words like a spell, "you wish to change it."

Adrian inhaled sharply. His chest ached with it.

"I want to enter the Triwizard Tournament."

Rem tilted his head, a slow, knowing smirk creeping across his face.

"Is that so?"

Adrian nodded once, his breath uneven, but his resolve solid. "Rem… is there any way to get past the Age Line?" His hands clenched into fists. "I have to—I need to do this. I wanted to join before, sure, but I was fine waiting. I was fine just being a normal kid for once."

His voice darkened, shaking with something cold. Something dangerous.

"But now? Fuck everyone. Fuck everything." His jaw tightened, his storm-grey eyes burning. "I was always alone. And it's alone at the top, right?"

His fingers twitched, magic crackling beneath his skin. "I want fame. I want glory. I want to get in there and fucking destroy everyone."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Rem laughed.

Not a cruel laugh. Not mocking. But something thrilled. Something starving.

"Now this," Rem said, grinning like a beast that had finally been set free, "is exactly what I wanted from a user of Ancient Magic."

Adrian stilled.

Rem took a slow step forward, the shadows curling around him like living things. "Very well," he said smoothly. "I will help you." His head tilted slightly. "And, funnily enough… there is a way to get past Age Lines."

Adrian's breath hitched. "What?"

Rem smirked. "It is something you already know."

Adrian's mind raced. He knew? What did he—

Swifting.

His breath caught.

Rem saw the realization strike and let out a dark chuckle.

"Age Lines, boy, are barriers woven from structured magic—an enforced magical contract between caster and reality," Rem explained, his hands moving fluidly through the air as if tracing the unseen layers of enchantment. "They are crafted with the intention to reject anything that does not meet their requirements. A rigid set of conditions."

His gaze sharpened. "And how, pray tell, does one bypass that which is meant to reject them?"

Adrian's mind whirred.

Swifting… it wasn't just about moving fast. It was about moving outside the rules. About abandoning the restrictions of physical space—letting go of the limitations of a body that should not be able to move like that.

He sucked in a sharp breath. "You mean… if I Swift through it—"

"The Age Line will never register your presence," Rem confirmed, his grin stretching. "Because in that moment, you aren't there. You exist between. Unseen. Unregistered. Unbound."

Adrian's pulse pounded.

It made sense. It was dangerous, insane, and yet—

His lips parted. "I can do it."

Rem arched a brow. "You can try," he corrected, smirking. "Swifting as you are now? You lack control. You get thrown about like a ragdoll, unable to grasp the weave properly. If you attempt it at the wrong moment, or fail to stabilize yourself mid-shift, the consequences could be… unpleasant."

Adrian barely heard him.

His mind was racing.

The Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire. He could bypass the Age Line. He could put his name in. He could win.

He would win.

Adrian met Rem's eyes, his own alight with something fierce.

"Rem... I'm not leaving here tonight untill I fucking learn how to swift properly."

Rem's grin sharpened like a blade. "Oh, now that is what I like to hear."

With a snap of his fingers, the shadows around them shifted. The torches lining the chamber flickered wildly as the air thickened, pulsing with raw, untamed magic. The stone beneath Adrian's feet rumbled ever so slightly—like the Chamber itself was listening, waiting.

"Very well," Rem said, stepping back, his glowing blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "Let's see if you're as determined as you claim to be, boy. Swift."

Adrian didn't hesitate. He braced himself, took a breath, and reached for the magic around him—

And then, like the other time, it rejected him.

His body lurched forward too fast, his vision blurred as if space itself had twisted, and then—

CRASH.

Adrian slammed into the ground face-first, skidding across the damp stone like a thrown ragdoll. His breath rushed out of his lungs in a sharp wheeze.

Rem cackled.

"Merlin's balls, boy, was that supposed to be an attempt? I've seen Flobberworms move with more grace!"

Adrian groaned, rolling onto his back, pain blazing through his ribs. "Fuck… you…"

Rem wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "Oh no, fuck me, he says! I'm not the one eating stone, you daft bastard." He grinned. "Now get up. Again."

Adrian gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, his body screaming in protest.

Then he tried again.

And again.

And again.

For an hour, the Chamber of Secrets became his personal hell.

Each time he attempted to Swift, it threw him around like a joke. The walls bore the evidence of his failure—scrapes, cracks, and probably an imprint of his entire spine somewhere. His limbs ached. His knuckles were raw from catching himself every time he was flung like a ragdoll. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his breath came in ragged pants.

And Rem? That bastard didn't let up for a second.

"You want glory, boy? You want power? Then move like you fucking mean it!"

Another attempt.

WHAM.

"Sweet Salazar's scaly arse, you Swift like a hippogriff with a head injury!"

Adrian snarled and tried again.

THUD.

"Come on! You think the Goblet is going to choose a wailing child who can't even stay upright?"

CRASH.

"Pathetic!"

Adrian spat blood onto the ground and staggered back up. His muscles burned, his vision swam, but his hands—his hands still crackled with raw magic. He wasn't stopping.

Not now.

Not ever.

Rem's voice cut through the pain, sharper than a blade. "They threw you away, boy. They doubted you. Mocked you. Betrayed you. And you? You're proving them right."

Something inside Adrian snapped.

His mind flashed to Terry's voice.

"We should go. This isn't… this isn't our problem."

To Dimitri's smirk.

"You didn't tell them, did you?"

To Karkaroff's grin.

"Toeing the line, yes?"

And to Jess.

"I just need… I need time to think, Adrian."

No. No more.

They thought he was weak? That he was nothing? That he was some pathetic outcast to be whispered about?

Fine.

He would show them.

Adrian exhaled sharply—and this time, he didn't try to control the magic. He didn't fight against the weave. He didn't try to force it into submission.

He surrendered.

His body gave in to the magic surrounding him, and—

The world twisted.

He was no longer bound by space.

The Chamber blurred, shifting, stretching—

And then—

He moved.

For the first time, there was no crash, no impact, no failure.

One second, he was on one side of the Chamber—

The next, he was on the other.

His feet touched down with perfect balance.

A single breath of silence.

Then—

Adrian's face split into a grin so wild it hurt.

"FUCK YEAH!"

His triumphant roar shook the Chamber, the echoes of his victory bouncing off the ancient walls. He could feel it—the power, the freedom, the potential.

He had done it.

He had finally done it.

Rem, watching from the other side, barked out a sharp laugh. "Now that, boy—that was Swifting." His grin was feral, his blue eyes gleaming. "Took you long enough. Thought I was going to have to start crafting you a tombstone."

Adrian was too elated to care. His heart thundered in his chest, his hands still buzzing with residual magic. He felt unstoppable.

Rem's gaze darkened, his grin turning sharper.

"You feel that, don't you?" he murmured. "That rush. That power. The world isn't a cage anymore, is it?"

Adrian exhaled, rolling his shoulders, his confidence unshakable.

"No," he murmured. "It's not."

Rem stepped forward, his voice a low, smooth hum.

"You wanted to enter the Triwizard Tournament?" His smirk widened. "Congratulations, boy. Now you can."

Adrian exhaled sharply, his heart still pounding from the rush of success. The Chamber of Secrets felt different now. It was a forge. And he had just been forged in fire.

Rem watched him with something almost akin to pride. "Well done," he said smoothly, his voice carrying a rare sincerity. "You've finally stopped fighting like a fool and started thinking like a wizard."

Adrian wiped the sweat from his forehead, his breathing uneven but triumphant. "Thanks," he muttered, still catching his breath.

Rem's smirk widened. "Good luck, boy. You're going to need it."

Adrian didn't respond—he simply turned and stepped towards the glowing mark etched into the floor, still pulsating softly with ancient magic. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against its surface—

And in an instant, he was gone.

The world lurched, and then he was back, the cold, musty air of the girl's bathroom replacing the humid energy of the Chamber.

Adrian stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling, fingers still tingling from the magic. His mind was racing.

I did it.

He had done it.

Now came the next step.

The Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire.

His jaw clenched. When do I put my name in?

He didn't want to go back to the Ravenclaw common room. Not now. Not ever. He wasn't in the mood to deal with whispers, with Terry's glares, with the sting of Jess's hesitation.

No. He was going to do this now.

Right. Bloody. Now.

It's late. Everyone will be in bed by now.

The clock in his head ticked. It was nearly 11 PM.

Adrian exhaled, steadying himself. Now or never.

With careful steps, he slipped out of the bathroom and into the dark corridors of Hogwarts.

The castle at night was a different world. The familiar warmth of Hogwarts vanished, replaced by long, empty halls bathed in the eerie glow of torchlight. Shadows stretched across the stone walls like ghostly figures, and every creak of the old floorboards sent a chill down his spine.

Adrian moved silently, pressing himself against the walls as he made his way toward the Great Hall. His heartbeat was a steady drum in his ears, his senses on high alert. He knew the risks.

If a prefect catches me, I'm done.
If Filch spots me, I'll be in detention for the rest of the year.

He took slow, deliberate steps, keeping to the darkest corners. His Swifting could help him, but it wasn't perfect yet—if he miscalculated in these tight corridors, he'd end up launching himself straight into a suit of armor or worse, straight into Filch himself.

Still, every time he heard a distant shuffle of footsteps, he was ready to Swift away at a moment's notice.

He moved past empty classrooms, past the long shadows of floating candlelight. A ghost drifted through the far end of a corridor, and he ducked out of sight, holding his breath.

Then, finally—

The Great Hall was just ahead.

The torches lining the walls flickered faintly, casting long shadows over the entrance. He stepped carefully, peering around the corner.

No one.

Adrian exhaled slowly. He had made it.

The Goblet of Fire was just beyond those doors.

With one last glance behind him, he stepped forward, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The Great Hall was empty.

Silent.

Adrian stepped through the grand doors, his breath steady, controlled. The Goblet of Fire flickered at the centre of the hall, standing on its pedestal, the blue-white flames dancing against the dim torchlight. Shadows stretched across the long tables, and the enchanted ceiling above was a vast, ink-black sky, dotted with distant stars.

His storm-grey eyes locked onto the golden ring of magic surrounding the Goblet—the Age Line.

This was it.

He took a slow step forward, stopping just outside the enchanted boundary. His fingers itched as he reached into his robe, pulling out a folded slip of parchment.

He didn't hesitate.

Adrian Valor

The ink gleamed in the firelight, the letters sharp and bold. This was the moment. His name, his chance, his defiance against every single person who had ever doubted him.

He exhaled sharply.

Then—

The creak of a door.

Adrian froze. His breath caught, his entire body snapping into alertness.

Someone was here.

Before his mind could process it, instinct took over. His magic thrummed beneath his skin—Swift.

In a blink, Adrian vanished.

The world twisted, space warped, and in an instant, he was crouched behind the Ravenclaw table, hidden in the shadows.

His pulse hammered in his ears. He barely dared to breathe.

Footsteps.

Slow. Measured. Heavy. A familiar limp in each step.

A flash of mad eye, the gleam of a wooden leg—

Moody.

Adrian's eyes narrowed. He pressed himself lower, watching from behind the table as the grizzled ex-Auror approached the Goblet.

His lips moved.

A single whisper, barely audible.

"Confundo."

The moment the word left Moody's lips, the flames in the Goblet shuddered. They dimmed, flickering wildly, as if struggling against some unseen force.

Adrian's breath hitched.

The Goblet was being Confunded.

What the fuck are you doing?

Moody reached into his coat, pulled out a parchment, and held it over the Goblet.

Adrian watched, eyes narrowing, every muscle locked in tense silence.

The parchment floated toward the flames.

It didn't incinerate immediately. The fire licked at it, slower than normal, the edges curling at an unnatural pace—almost hesitant. The Confundus Charm was affecting the Goblet's function.

Moody waited.

Then, satisfied, he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, the heavy door slamming behind him.

The silence that followed was thick.

Adrian didn't move.

He waited, counted the seconds, making sure Moody was truly gone before he stood up.

His pulse was thundering now. His mind was sharp, racing.

Moody had tricked the Goblet.

But why?

Adrian didn't waste time questioning. His feet moved before his mind fully caught up—he Swifted, the air around him distorting—

And in a blink, he was standing inside the Age Line.

The fire of the Goblet flickered in front of him, still dim, the magic within it still disoriented by Moody's spell.

Adrian's gaze dropped to the parchment inside.

It wasn't fully dissolved yet.

His heart stopped.

Harry Potter
Castelobruxo

His blood ran cold.

Adrian stared, his fingers twitching at his sides.

His brain snapped to understanding in an instant.

Moody hadn't just added a fourth champion.

He tricked the Goblet into thinking there was a fourth school.

The Confundus Charm—it made the Goblet believe Castelobruxo was participating. And with Harry's name the only one entered from that school, he would be the automatic selection.

It was a rigged game.

Harry Potter was going to be forced into the Triwizard Tournament.

Adrian's breath was shallow, his mind racing through possibilities, calculations.

If he did nothing, Harry would be called as the fourth champion. This wasn't an accident. Moody had planned it.

But why?

His fingers curled into fists. Doesn't matter.

What mattered was opportunity.

Harry wouldn't want this. Adrian did.

The Goblet is still Confunded. The flames are weak.

His eyes flicked down to the parchment in his hands.

Adrian Valor

Opportunity.

In a single motion, he grabbed Harry's parchment before it could burn away.

The Goblet's flames flickered violently at the interference, but the Confundus Charm was still active—it didn't reject his touch.

Adrian's fingers trembled. He could feel the magic pulsing within the paper, the weight of the decision he was about to make.

Then, with absolute certainty, he grabbed his own parchment, flipped it over—

And wrote.

Adrian Valor - Castelobruxo

Ink flashed, sealing itself into the parchment.

Adrian inhaled.

His hand hovered over the fire. His brain screamed at him, asking if he truly understood what he was doing.

He did.

There was no turning back now.

He dropped it in.

The moment his parchment hit the blue flames, the fire roared back to life, burning bright once more.

Harry Potter's parchment was gone.

Adrian took a sharp step back. The Goblet glowed, its magic settling.

And just like that—

He was in the tournament.

His breath hitched. His fingers trembled slightly. He had done it. He had actually done it.

A beat of silence passed, the weight of it all sinking in.

Then—

Adrian moved.

He Swifted, body dissolving into magic, and in a blink—

He was standing outside the Age Line again, the flames flickering behind him, untouched.

His chest rose and fell in quick succession.

He had done it.

Adrian Valor. Champion.

The Goblet of Fire stood silent, a witness to his crime.

Adrian took a single step back, exhaling slowly.

Then, with deliberate steps, he turned and strode out of the Great Hall.

Not a single soul had seen him.

And by the time they realized what had happened—

It would be too late.

30th of October 1994, Hogwarts Grounds

The night air hit Adrian's face the moment he stepped out of the castle, crisp and cool, biting at his heated skin. He hadn't realized how suffocating the Great Hall had felt until now. The tension, the rush of what he had just done—it was still pulsing through him like wildfire, but now that he was outside, he could finally breathe.

His boots crunched against the dewy grass as he walked further into the grounds. He needed space. Needed a moment to think.

What the fuck had Moody been doing?

Adrian knew his reputation. Alastor Moody was one of the best Aurors the wizarding world had ever seen. A man who had taken down dozens of Dark wizards, a living legend when it came to tracking and capturing criminals. There was no way someone like him would accidentally Confund the Goblet.

No. That was intentional.

He closed his eyes and leaned against a nearby oak tree, the bark rough against his back. The night was still, save for the distant hoot of an owl and the rustling of leaves in the wind. The world felt heavy, pressing in on him, but his mind remained sharp.

Moody wanted Potter in the tournament. That was the only conclusion. The Confundus Charm had tricked the Goblet into thinking there were four schools. And with only one name under Castelobruxo, Harry would have been chosen by default.

But why?

Why the hell would Moody—an Auror, someone who should have been protecting students—go through all that effort just to force Potter into the tournament?

Adrian exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples.

If he hadn't been there, if he hadn't acted, Harry Potter would be waking up tomorrow as the fourth champion.

Did Moody want him dead? That was the logical conclusion—people had died in the Triwizard Tournament before. But that didn't make sense. Moody had no reason to want Potter dead, did he?

Maybe Moody just wanted to test Potter for some insane reason. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Either way, it wasn't Adrian's problem anymore.

Harry was out. He was in.

That was all that mattered.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

They're going to lose their fucking minds tomorrow.

With a low chuckle, he pushed himself off the tree, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly ease. His storm-grey eyes flickered back toward the castle. He should probably head back to the common room before Filch started patrolling.

He rolled his shoulders, shaking off the last bits of unease, and began making his way back toward the castle.

Then he saw her.

Daphne.

Leaning against a tree near the entrance, lazily twirling a rolled-up bit of parchment between her fingers.

Smoking.

Something.

Adrian narrowed his eyes slightly, stepping closer, his boots silent against the grass. His mind went back to when he heard her talking with Malfoy. It was a sad situation all together but he couldn't worry about that now. What would she think of him now? He should probably just go back inside. His reputation had just taken a massive dive in the school. But he just wanted to know why she was out and about at this hour. Even if she thought of him as a dark wizard know. And hey she is a Slytherin. Maybe she wasn't all that prejudiced against Dark Lords.

Adrian took another step forward, the damp grass pressing against the soles of his boots. Daphne's gaze flicked up at him, her piercing blue eyes barely visible in the dim moonlight. She took a slow, deliberate drag of whatever she was smoking, then exhaled in a lazy swirl of silver smoke.

She arched a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"What are you doing out at this hour, Valor? Trying to find some lonely girl to curse? Careful… I curse back."

Her tone was teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it, like a blade hidden under silk.

Adrian scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Could ask you the same thing. Are you just out here to smoke, or is this some kind of Slytherin ritual I interrupted?"

Daphne hummed, tilting her head slightly. "Maybe I'm summoning the Dark Lord. Maybe I just wanted some peace and quiet away from idiots." She took another drag and exhaled through her nose, her smirk widening. "Take a wild guess."

Adrian leaned against the tree beside her, exhaling sharply. "I'm gonna go with option two."

"Smart boy."

There was a comfortable silence between them. The kind that didn't need filling with useless chatter. The only sounds were the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees and the distant croak of a frog somewhere near the Black Lake.

Adrian glanced at her. He'd talked to Daphne a few times before, mostly in Arithmancy. She was sharp. Really sharp. Calculating, observant, always a step ahead in class discussions. She didn't speak much, but when she did, it was either something clever or something devastatingly cutting.

"So," Daphne drawled, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "Gonna tell me why you're sneaking around past curfew, or do I get to make up my own dramatic theories?"

Adrian smirked slightly. "Be my guest. What's your best guess?"

Daphne tapped her chin in mock thought. "Let's see… Maybe you were out performing a dark ritual in the Forbidden Forest? No, wait—too cliché. Maybe you were plotting your rise to power? No… too obvious."

She flicked ash from the end of her parchment and glanced at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Or maybe—just maybe—you were up to something much, much worse."

Adrian raised a brow. "Oh? Do tell."

Daphne leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You were... helping first-years with their homework."

Adrian let out a snort. "Merlin forbid."

Daphne grinned. "Disgraceful. Absolutely disgusting behaviour."

Another silence settled over them. This time, it felt… almost companionable.

Adrian exhaled, his gaze drifting back toward the castle. "You really don't care, do you?"

Daphne blinked. "About?"

"Me being expelled from Durmstrang. Supposedly for using dark magic."

Daphne let the silence stretch for a moment, her eyes unreadable as she took another slow drag from her parchment-wrapped cigarette. Then, she exhaled, the smoke curling into the cold night air like ghostly tendrils.

She didn't answer right away, and Adrian wondered if she was debating how honest to be. But then, she smirked.

"Should I care?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Would it change anything?"

Adrian scoffed, shifting against the rough bark of the tree. "For most people? Yeah. They hear something like that, and suddenly you're the next Grindelwald. Doesn't matter what the truth is."

"Ah," Daphne murmured, amusement flickering in her gaze. "You're learning."

Adrian shot her a look. "That supposed to mean something?"

"It means," she said, tapping ash off her cigarette, "that people are predictable. You should've known how they'd react. It's like Arithmancy, really—input, output. No surprises. And yet, you still seemed... shocked." She studied him, her expression vaguely intrigued. "Why?"

Adrian opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no good answer.

Maybe because he'd actually let himself believe he could move past it. That he could just exist at Hogwarts without his past slamming into him like a Bludger to the ribs. That for once, the whispers wouldn't follow him.

Stupid.

Daphne must've seen the flicker of irritation on his face because she chuckled softly. "Let me guess. You thought if you just kept your head down, worked hard, and didn't step on any toes, people would eventually stop talking?"

Adrian didn't respond.

Daphne took his silence as confirmation. "Yeah, see, that was your first mistake."

"Oh?" Adrian said dryly. "Do enlighten me, oh wise Slytherin."

"Gladly," she said smoothly, crossing one leg over the other. "You don't kill rumours by ignoring them. You kill them by making people too afraid to spread them. Or too confused to know what to believe."

Adrian snorted. "Sounds like a very Slytherin way of handling things."

Daphne smirked. "And you'd rather go the noble route? Sit there while they tear you apart? Hope that one day they'll come to their senses and realize they were wrong?" She let out a low chuckle. "Ravenclaws. So smart, yet so incredibly naïve."

Adrian rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. And what would you suggest?"

Daphne took another slow drag, her eyes flickering with amusement as she exhaled. Then, she shrugged.

"Stop giving a shit."

Adrian blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it." Daphne smirked, tapping her cigarette against the bark of the tree, letting a few embers scatter into the night air. "People are going to think whatever they want. You could save a bloody orphanage from burning down, and someone would still call you a dark wizard for doing it. You waste your energy trying to change their minds, and for what? So they can find something else to whisper about?"

Adrian frowned, staring out over the darkened grounds. "It's not that simple."

"It is," she countered, giving him a knowing look. "You're acting like you have control over what they think. You don't. And you never will. The sooner you get that through your thick Ravenclaw skull, the easier your life will be."

Adrian let out a sharp exhale, dragging a hand through his hair. It was annoyingly practical advice. Not wrong, but… frustratingly simple.

"So, what?" he muttered. "Just stop caring? Let them talk?"

"Let them talk," Daphne said, flicking ash onto the ground. "Let them spread their little rumours. Let them make up whatever they want. And then?" She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. "You live your life like none of it fucking matters."

Adrian scoffed, but something in her words lodged itself into his brain, a splinter of something dangerous. Something freeing.

Daphne stretched her legs out, looking entirely unbothered. "The way I see it, you have two options. One—waste your time fighting a battle you'll never win. Try to convince people you're not some dark wizard and watch them ignore every word out of your mouth. Or two—accept that they're going to talk regardless, and just do whatever the hell you want anyway."

Adrian snorted. "You make it sound so easy."

"It is," she said simply. "You just have to decide whether you're playing their game or yours."

Adrian stared at her for a moment, the cool night air settling between them. He wasn't sure why, but this was the most sense anything had made all day.

"You always like this, Greengrass?" he asked, half amused, half curious.

"Like what?"

"Too perceptive for your own good."

Daphne smirked. "I like to think of it as a gift."

Adrian exhaled, shaking his head slightly. He wasn't sure whether she was right, but something about her words clung to him, settling under his skin like an idea he couldn't quite shake.

"Stop giving a shit."

It was tempting.

It was really fucking tempting.

Adrian let the thought settle, rolling it over in his mind like a well-worn coin. Maybe she was right. Maybe he'd been going about this all wrong.

His gaze flicked to the smoldering parchment between her fingers, curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"By the way," he said, nodding toward it, "what the hell are you smoking?"

Daphne arched a brow, lifting the roll slightly as if inspecting it herself. "Oh, this?" she mused. "It's a little something called Noxleaf."

Adrian frowned. "Never heard of it."

"Yeah, well, it's not exactly stocked in the Hogwarts infirmary," she smirked. "It's a magical herb—stronger than Muggle weed, but cleaner. No headaches, no sluggishness. Just a nice buzz and a little clarity. Helps with stress, if you're into that sort of thing."

Adrian scoffed. "I don't do drugs, Greengrass."

Daphne gave him a slow, knowing look. "Neither do I," she said simply. "This isn't some dodgy Knockturn Alley potion, Valor. It's just a plant. Grows in the Mediterranean. Ancient Druids used to use it for divination or whatever, but nowadays? Mostly recreational. Slytherins know where to find the good shit."

She took another smooth drag, holding it for a moment before exhaling a lazy curl of smoke. Then, without a word, she extended it toward him.

Adrian eyed the roll, then her, scepticism creeping in. "What, you offering me some out of the kindness of your heart?"

Daphne smirked. "Call it a social experiment. You look like you could use something to take the edge off."

He hesitated. For a split second, he considered turning it down. But then he thought about the whispers, the stares, the bullshit he had to wade through every damn day.

Fuck it.

Adrian plucked it from her fingers, bringing it to his lips before she could change her mind. He took a slow drag, inhaling deeply—

And immediately regretted it.

The hit was stronger than he expected, a strange warmth blooming in his chest as a tingle spread through his limbs. His vision sharpened and blurred at the same time, like his senses had just been dialed up past their usual limits. For a moment, everything felt too crisp—the wind on his face, the cool bite of the night air, the distant hoot of an owl.

His body felt light. His head? Not so much.

"Shit," he coughed, exhaling too quickly. "That's—bloody hell, that's—"

Daphne laughed, a genuine, full-bodied sound that was rare for her. "Too much for you, Valor?"

Adrian blinked, trying to gather his bearings. His mind felt like it was stretching, expanding outward like a ripple in a pond. "No," he said stubbornly, even as his fingers twitched slightly. "Just… potent."

"That's the point." She leaned back against the tree, watching him with lazy amusement. "You'll get used to it. Or you'll fall flat on your arse. Either way, I'm entertained."

Adrian huffed, shaking his head as he passed it back to her. The warmth was still buzzing under his skin, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was just... different.

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet settling comfortably between them. The stars above seemed brighter, the Black Lake a perfect stretch of liquid ink in the distance.

After a long moment, Adrian let out a slow breath and muttered, "You know… I think you might be right."

Daphne shot him a side glance. "Of course I'm right. About what specifically?"

"All of it." He gestured vaguely, still feeling the pleasant hum of the Noxleaf in his veins. "The whispers. The rumours. Trying to make them stop is a waste of time."

Daphne smirked, taking another slow drag. "Glad you're catching up." She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "So, what's next, Valor? Now that you've had your grand revelation?"

Adrian leaned back against the tree, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"Now?" His storm-grey eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "Now, I stop playing nice."

Daphne let out a low chuckle, flicking the last of her cigarette into the grass before snuffing it out with her boot. "Good," she murmured. "About damn time."

And for the first time in a long time, Adrian felt free.

And there we go. He is now in the Tri-wizard tournament. Major deviation from plot that will have huge consequences for everybody. What will happen to Harry? What will Moody aka Bart Crouch Jr now do? What will Voldemort think about this? What about Dumbledore and the entire school? Questions questions...

The Daphne scene at the end was something that was in my head for a while. Hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter is gonna be plot heavy as well.

Hope you enjoyed and see ya next time!