The Black Calderon

by charmingWithNoTitle

A Spanish Seer transfers to Hogwarts in 1976. Sirius x OFC some foreign language line (i highly recommend google translate)

Chapter 1 — Smoke and Silver

The last time Carmen Calderon walked the cobbled path of Diagon Alley, her parents were still alive.

Now, it was summer, the sun unforgiving over London's chimneyed skyline, and she stood beneath the green-glass archway of Twilfitt & Tatting's at the edge of Knockturn Alley, her wand hand twitching above its holster. Javier had left her to get fitted for her school robes while he attended to 'business'. She had been waiting for 15 minutes. Javier was late.

She took a breath, slow and seething, and traced a sigil into the air—Xarxa, the Calderon family ward. The magic shimmered faintly before dissipating, confirming Javier was approaching soon.

"You always did enjoy old magicks, hermanita," Javier drawled, finally appearing from behind the awning of Cobb & Webb's, his dark robes immaculate, his smile too wide.

Carmen tilted her chin. "And you love to make me wait."

"Patience, pet," he said, offering his arm.

"I am not your pet," she muttered, ignoring it.

He only laughed.

"Never," he echoed softly. "But one day you will belong to someone. Which brings us to today."

They walked in silence for a moment, passing windows lined with shrunken heads and evil-looking masks. Black cloaked witches and wizards ambled between shops, eyeing Carmen and Javier.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked.

"Borgin and Burkes." he answered with no details, odd for a wizard who loved nothing more than the sound of his own voice.

Inside, the shop was cool and dim. An assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling.

"Antonin," Javier called into the quiet shop.

A tall man emerged from behind a tall glass case nearby which held a withered hand on a blood red cushion. Antonin Dolohov wore high-collared, ash-grey robes and gloves. His eyes, dark and amused, locked instantly with Carmen's.

So this was the suitor. He was taller than Javier, broader too. The older wizard wore his long dark blonde hair in a neat plait down his back tied off with a strip of dragon leather.

"I thought you brought me here to shop, hermano" she said evenly, "not to sell me."

Antonin inclined his head. "No one would dare attempt such a thing. Least of all me." His voice was smooth, heavy with a foreign accent —Russian, but an older dialectic form of it. His Durmstrang manners were obvious in his rigid posture and wide stance.

"I merely wished to meet an old school friend," Antonin approached to clasp arms with Javier in an extremely friendly manner.

"And his little sister, who he spoke of often. I see now his praise was humble."

She arched her brow. "Praise? From Javier?"

"He said your beauty is almost as dangerous as your wand."

Javier gave an exasperated sigh. Carmen wanted to hex him in the kidneys.

"If that's supposed to be flattery, you know very little about witches. And you know nothing about me" she said crossly, stepping back towards the door behind her. Javier grasped her arm to prevent her from running.

"I hope you will allow me the opportunity to learn." Antonin said, chasing her retreating step. "You're younger than I expected. And sharper than your brother." Antonin smirked openly at Javier's frown.

"And you are old. And more foolish than any wizard I have met to think I will be swayed by empty praise."

A spark flared behind his eyes—challenge or approval, she wasn't sure. His attention was heavy. Like being studied by a predator who found your beating pulse stimulating.

"Careful," Javier warned lightly, not at her, but at Antonin. "My sister has claws." Javier was smirking to now, but his grip on Carmen's elbow would leave bruises.

"Good," Antonin murmured, eyes never leaving her. "The world is unkind to witches who do not bite back."

She hated that he had a point.

"What is this, Javier?" she asked, finally. "A test? An advance showing? Should I curtsy and recite my pedigree now, or are the contracts already signed?" her voice was hard, and unyielding.

Javier's voice hardened in turn. "This is diplomacy, Carmen. The Calderon name must root itself in English soil before it's drowned out by the harried aftermath of war." He was angry at her lack of poise, but he should have expected it.

"You should have a seat at the table that shapes the next century." His voice softened slightly, to impart his meaning to her alone. Her Sight should grant her power in society.

She turned fully to Javier. "Or you should be protecting me from wizards like-." she glanced at the smirking Dolohov, as Javier's eyes narrowed.

"You will do what is necessary," he said, cool and firm. "As we always have."

A beat passed.

Suddenly she smiled saccharine sweet and roughly pulled her arm from Javier's grasp. She walked towards Dolohov and plucked a small vial from the shelf behind him—Pukwudgie Venom—and tucked it into her cloak. Not theft, the shopkeeper was watching them all carefully. He would charge her family vaults and that would cover it.

"Thank you for the introduction, Don Calderon," she said, voice like silk.

Antonin chuckled. "I will see you soon, Miss Calderon."

She walked past Javier on her way out of the shop.

"Cuidado con las sombras," she said, just loud enough for them both to hear. Beware the shadows.

Outside, the air was heavy with fog. She could feel both wizards' presence behind her like a ghost, but they didn't follow. The spoke in hushed tones, while Carmen continued to walked toward Diagon Alley. The distant crack of disapparation was following by Javier's fast pace toward her.

When Javier caught up to her, he was less amused.

"Do not antagonize him," he said lowly. "He may yet prove useful. You'll thank me, one day, when your children are born into a legacy powerful enough to survive what's coming."

She stopped walking.

"Children," she said. "Legacy. You speak of my future like it is the past and I am already dead. Are you the one with Sight, Javier?"

Javier didn't respond.

Chapter 2 — Black Dogs and Spanish Steel

The platform was a riot of steam and noise. Owls hooted. Trunks thudded. A group of third-years wrestled a charmed broom caught in someone's hair while a red-faced matron scolded them in Gaelic.

And there, at the far end of Platform 9, Carmen Calderon stepped through the brick barrier as though she owned the very air around her.

The lace trim of her summer travelling cloak fluttered around her knees. Her hair was half-pinned, half-wild. Her huge half kneazle/half cat, Galinthias, slept peacefully atop her trunk.

"Merlin's balls," James muttered beside him, shifting his trunk into the train's open doorway. "Who is that?"

"New Slytherin obviously," Sirius said before he could stop himself. "Must be the Spanish transfer."

"You can't know that, you must be guessing," Peter said, nose wrinkling in disbelief.

"No. She's a Calderon. I overheard my parents talking about her. She's coming in as a fifth year student. Same as us."

"Calderon?," Remus said, eyes thoughtful. "I think they created the brewing cauldron, a few thousand years ago,"

Sirius wasn't listening. He was already moving.

He caught her just before she lifted her trunk into the train step. Sirius grasping the other end of her trunk, helped her lift it into the train. They stood in the threshold for a moment. Galinthias stretched and rolled into the train floor, landing on all fours and trotting deeper into the train to explore independently.

"You're Carmen, right?"

Her eyes flicked up to him. Gold jewelry, dark crips robes, and wild hair. She smelled like saffron and ink.

"You smell like a dog."

Sirius grinned widely. "You're smelling me? I am flattered."

She huffed and turned away to tug her trunk into the train corridor. Sirius followed closely, tripping on her trunk and his feet.

"El perro se siente halagado."

"Hey! I speak more than English."

"De verdad?"

She spoke in Spanish. Slow. Deliberate. A Challenge.

He blinked owlishly as if not understanding and Carmen smirked at his blank expression, before he managed to attempt his heavily English accented reply. "Si, bueno con las lenguas"

"Cuidado, Perro." Her lips curled, not quite a smile.

"Oh, I like you."

"How tragic for you."

She turned and stepped into an empty compartment without another word, locking the door behind her and closing the curtains blocking Sirius' shit-eating and smitten grin.

Sirius found his marauders in their usual compartment, Remus tossing Bertie Bott's between James and Peter like miniature Quaffles.

"You see her?" he asked with a lopsided grin, his eyes faraway, as he dropped onto the seat beside Remus.

"Saw her," James said. "You're gone, mate."

"I'm just curious."

"You're just horny," Peter corrected.

"She's probably betrothed already, isn't she?" Remus asked. "To some pureblood?"

"Maybe?" Sirius said, frowning.

Halfway to Hogwarts, he found her again—in the corridor, standing alone outside a compartment filled with Slytherin boys. Her arms were crossed. One eyebrow raised.

"What," she asked without looking at him, "do you want, Perro?"

"Maybe I'm just a lost perrito," Sirius said, sidling beside her. "Maybe I need someone to take me home."

She side-eyed him silently, a scoff on the tip of her tongue.

"You are disappointing. A dog that can't find his own way is a waste of good breeding."

"Only my mother thinks I'm a disappointment."

She glanced over, uncomfortable with his easy confession. "Are you always this honest?"

"Only with everyone."

"Well. That explains everything."

There was a flicker of something beneath the sarcasm. Amusement, maybe. Curiosity. Or perhaps it was just the trainlight playing off her earrings—gold and emeralds, surely charmed.

"You know," he said, casually leaning against the wall, "for a pureblood witch- I thought you'd be... more proper."

"And with an ego like yours, I thought you'd be taller."

"Touché."

"I hate French". Carmen offered immediately.

The Slytherin compartment door opened. Thorfinn Rowle neutrally held a limp black cat at arm's length, Galinthias meowed sweetly as her head lolled back to meet Carmen's eyes. Rowle spotted Black standing off to the side and muttered something in harsh German before shoving the cat into Carmen's arms and slamming the door shut again.

Carmen didn't flinch, simply turning to walk back to her compartment.

"Do you ever get tired of pretending?" she asked softly, almost too soft to hear. Sirius thought she was speaking to her cat at first, but the ensuing silence prompted him to ask as he followed her through the narrow corridor.

Sirius noticeably straightened. "Pretending what?"

"That you're not clever. That you don't care. That you aren't like the people you pretend to hate."

Silence stretched between them.

She added, "You are the product of a thousand years of- but its all a joke to you." she stopped to turn and face him, and observe his reaction.

"You feign everything, but you're watching everything. Just like me."

He stared at her, unsure whether to be flattered or offended. He decided the safest bet was tot turn the question back on her.

"And what do you pretend to be?"

Her smirk didn't reach her eyes, and she held her cat closely letting its head loll into her shoulder and neck. "Untouchable."

He wanted to know more about her. Wanted to press for more than she was offering in this empty train corridor, but the train began to slow. Carmen spun on her heel, and pushed her cat fully over her shoulder so that it landed on its feet a pace behind her.

"Try not to get hexed on your first day back, perro callejero."

"Sin promesas, bruja." His accent was terrible and she allowed herself a small genuine smile in amusement at his expense.

She was gone before he could think of something better to say.

Chapter 3 — The Sorting of Shadows

The carriages awaited them like skeletal sentinels, white thestrals pawing at the gravel, their hollow black eyes staring her down as if saying 'We see you. We see you, seeing us'. Carmen rubbed Galinthias's head softly as the half-kneazle climbed into her arms, tail flicking and curling around her neck.

"Want to ride with me?" Sirius asked, falling into step beside her, his voice pitched low so only she could hear.

"I would rather walk. I hate riding anything I haven't trained myself," she replied coolly.

"Is that an offer? I'll gladly wag my tail if it is."

"Stop talking to me."

Sirius smirked, hands in his pockets as they approached the nearest carriage. Carmen was already climbing into one with a pair of quiet fifth-year Slytherins. Sirius caught the edge of the door, leaned close.

"Take care of this princess, boys. She is precious cargo. I'll see you at the feast, Miss Claderon." The fifth year slytherin boys wore matching expressions of confusion and annoyance.

Carmen gave Sirius a look that could have frozen fire. "You are too far beneath me to notice."

She slammed the door in his face, but could still hear his shouted rebuttal, "I WISH!"

The Great Hall glowed like a cathedral of flickering flames. Floating candles throughout, several fireplaces, and hanging braziers bathed everything in golden light. At the faculty table, where Dumbledore sat in resplendent purple, Professors Slughorn and McGonagall spoke quietly.

Carmen followed the last group of first-years down the center aisle, the tallest in the line-up. Whispers chased her through the hall like hungry birds.

"Who's that?"

"She's definitely not a first year—not with a body like—"

"Slytherin, obviously—already looking down her nose—"

"Calderon?."

Sirius saw and heard it all from the Gryffindor table. He sat between James and Remus, who were both watching her like she might burst into flames at any moment.

"I'm sorry but- she's definitely going to end up a snake, mate," James muttered. "Pureblood. Hot. Intimidating. All traits of your people."

Sirius bristled. "Snakes are not my people."

"Your brother is right there. No matter how much you ignore him," Remus said dryly.

Indeed, from the Slytherin table, Regulus Black was sitting straighter than Sirius had seen him all summer. The younger boy's eyes followed Carmen with what could only be described as reverent awe.

Sirius scowled bitterly.

"Miss Calderon," McGonagall called from the front of the hall. "As you are a fifth-year transfer the Sorting Hat will place you, first."

Carmen nodded once. Her expression was a portrait in cold dignity.

She sat, tucked her wild curls behind her ears, and let the hat fall onto her head.

It didn't even fully rest in her head before it bellowed:

"SLYTHERIN!"

There was a roar of applause from the Slytherin table, where emerald robes shuffled to make room for her. Even the older 7th year boys—Mulciber, Rosier, Avery—were sitting taller, making space beside them.

"She was never going anywhere else," Sirius said flatly.

"You sound disappointed," James teased.

Sirius didn't answer. He watched her instead.

She slid into the seat between Rowle and Rosier, who immediately started chatting to her exuberantly.

"They're ecstatic," Peter whispered judgmentally. "Disgusting."

Mcgonnagal started to read the list of first year names, and Carmen cast a subtle Nonverbal charm on her chatty table mates. A modified silencing charm, to make everyone whisper, clever and discreet. Rosier and Rowle immediately took the hint and waited silently. When all the first years had been sorted and the food appeared, Carmen cancelled her charm with a wave of her hand and returned to her housemates their voices.

They chatted her ear off for the rest of the meal and Carmen seemed to be struggling to keep her neutrality in check. She was obviously peeved by the attention but no one seemed to notice except Sirius on the other side of the Great Hall. She glanced up as if feeling his eyes on her, and met his gaze. She gave him a subtle exasperated expression, as he eyes tracked left and right to Rosier and Rowle who hasn't let up in their barrage of conversation at her. She offered Sirius a small half smirk, and he returned it.

Merlin help him, Sirius was doomed.

After the Sorting, and after the first-years had been escorted to their dormitories, Carmen lingered just outside the dungeon entrance. Slughorn was waiting there, grinning like a warlock with a new vintage.

"My dear girl!" he beamed. "Marvelous, truly marvelous. Slytherin is lucky to have you. Now, don't be nervous about the coursework—we'll be keeping your existing credits from Castelobruxo intact, and I've already arranged your placement in your regular fifth-year classes as well as your elective. Potions, Ancient Runes, Arithmancy—ah, and I hear you excel in Alchemy?"

"I prefer metallurgy," she said smoothly.

Slughorn chuckled. "A Calderon through and through, you are! Perhaps you can help me fix some of my damaged classroom cauldrons?"

"Of course, sir. That is simple magic."
"I am certain you will do well here, Miss Calderon. Now, potions partners were chosen first year and largely remain unchanged, but Severus Snape, a boy in your year and house, is alone this year so i can pair you with him, or his previous partner-"

"I work alone," she interrupted.

Slughorn blinked and cleared his throat. "Ah. Well. I'll see what I can arrange."

Chapter 4 — Dark Charms

Slughorn's dungeon classroom always smelled faintly of singed lacewing flies and pineapple. Iron cauldrons lined the back wall like cracked and rusted helms. Sirius thought it smelled like damp and pipe smoke.

James elbowed him as they sat down at their usual table. "Bet you five sickles Rowle doesnt even last ten minutes before trying to hex someone."

"I'll take that bet," Sirius muttered. "And raise you, a scream from Avery in the first 30 minutes."

Carmen Calderon arrived precisely thirty seconds before the bell. Her robes were pressed, her hair pinned, her potions gloves— a dusky green—buttoned at the wrist. She swept past Sirius and James without acknowledging them and chose a solitary table near the back, drawing her wand and setting up her station with a casual elegance that made several Slytherins sit up straighter.

"Merlin," James whispered. "She looks like she came to duel, not brew."

Slughorn entered in a swirl of burgundy robes. "Welcome back, students! Fifth year is your OWL year, we will cover some brewing theory in each class in addition to your regular brewing, and homework will only be assigned over weekends." He beamed at the groans. "Today, a simple restorative. Pepperup Potion. Let's see who's retained anything from last year."

Sirius and James exchanged a glance.

James flicked his wand and muttered, "Gelum snottera."

Rowle's cauldron hissed. A thick geyser of steam erupted, splattering his parchment with bubbling grey mucus. Several witches, including Avery shrieked.

"Potter!" Rowle barked, wand half-raised.

Slughorn whipped around. "Enough! Enough!"

Rowle scowled, mucus dripping from his sleeve.

"Potter. Black. Since you two clearly cannot keep each other to task, I am rearranging partners. Potter—you're with Evans."

Lily looked up, eyebrows lifting.

"And Black—" Slughorn scanned the room, then grimaced seeing his options. It would either be Snape or- "With Miss Calderon, Black."

There was a beat of silence.

Sirius stood, collected his things, and crossed the classroom toward her. Carmen didn't move. Didn't look up. Just unrolled her parchment and dipped a fresh quill with a flick of her fingers.

"I'd say it's a pleasure," Carmen murmured, as Sirius slid onto the stool beside her. "But I don't like to lie."

"You just don't like being bested," He replied evenly, not looking at her. "And you will be."

"Doubtful."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "You sound like someone with more bravery than sense."

He smirked. "And you sound like someone who's never once failed at anything."

She paused.

"Never publicly."

Their cauldron hissed softly between them as the heat rune she etched beneath it ignited. Her handwriting was beautiful—elegant loops with sharp downward strokes. Sirius watched her for a moment, pretending to read the instructions.

"You always work alone?" he asked.

"I prefer it."

He smirked. "And yet-,"

"You're intolerable," she admitted.

"High praise."

They began to brew. Carmen handled the ingredients with surgical precision—her valerian roots were sliced to a perfect crescent, her daisy petals dissolved in clockwise whorls of glowing white. Sirius, to his credit, wasn't floundering either.

"Your stirring isn't terrible," she said absently.

"Shall I embroider that on a pillow?"

Slughorn walked out of the classroom to grab more ingredient doliums from the storeroom.

Across the aisle Rowle raised his wand again, jaw tight, his eyes locked on James—but the spell cracked sideways.

"Anteoculatia!"

The hex struck Lily Evans instead, full in the forehead.

"Oh for—" she gasped.

Tiny antlers burst from her hairline, delicate and branching. Her eyes widened, and the room fell silent for one stunned heartbeat.

Carmen moved before Sirius could even process.

"Finité Incantatum." Her voice was low and firm, laced with power.

Lily gasped again as the antlers vanished. Her breath caught, one hand rising to her brow.

Across the table, Rowle's triumphant smirk faltered.

Carmen flicked her wand again, this time with a subtle flick and whisper.

"Langosto."

Rowle yelped. His wand fell from his grip as his hands transformed into a twitching, red-shelled lobster claws that snapped menacingly. The class erupted.

Sirius barked a laugh. Slughorn returned too late.

"What—?"

"I believe Rowle needs the infirmary, Professor," Carmen said calmly.

Sirius couldn't look away.

When Slughorn finally shooed Rowle along with Avery to the infirmary for hex reversal, the class resumed. Carmen stirred their potion with smooth, practiced strokes, the color a perfect violet now.

"You hexed him," Sirius said quietly. "For Lily Evans?"

"No witch," she said, softer now, "should have to endure the blunders of man."

"You are not what I expected. Many in your house wouldn't even call Lily, a witch."

She met his eyes. "We do not have to be what people think, we can become far greater- if only out of spite."

Their potion began to steam with a gentle, spicy aroma. Carmen ladled a sample into a vial, corked it, and handed it to Sirius.

"Take it up. Slughorn doesn't like you. Maybe this will help."

He stood, intentionally brushing her fingers in the hand-off. She didn't pull away.

And for the first time, he realized her gloves were gone.

Chapter 5 — Runes & Reputations

The Ancient Runes classroom was housed in the lowest classroom in the Divination Tower. An airy, stone-walled room ringed with carved runic circles on the floors, up the walls, and on the ceiling. Arcane glyphs pulsed faintly when touched or crossed, and the enchanted chalkboard scribbled idly in Elder Futhark when they entered.

Professor Bathsheda Babbling stood at her desk, her robes the color of storming ocean and her long greying hair hung to her waist in dozens of small tight twists. She was one of the few professors who somehow commanded perfect silence.

"Seats are listed on board," she spoke without lifting her gaze from the paper on her desk. "Your partners are the same as last year unless otherwise indicated."

A chorus of scraping chairs followed as fifth-years scanned the posted parchment.

Sirius reached the list second, skimming quickly—and smirked.

"Looks like I've been reassigned," he said aloud, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

James groaned. "Let me guess. Carmen Calderon."

"Got it in one."

Carmen, already seated near the arched window, didn't glance up as Sirius approached. She had a small bottle of ink open beside her parchment and was using a silver-tipped quill to draw a complicated rune set across the margin.

He dropped into the seat beside her. "Fate strikes again."

"Or- Professor Babbling?"

"She has taste."

"She has very little patience," Carmen said evenly. "So unless you came prepared to actually work—"

"Miss Calderon," Basset's voice echoed across the room. "Mr. Black. As our only new partnership this term, you will begin with the Acarnanias inscription series. Full translation and interpretive analysis of at least 1 runestone will be due before winter break."

There were murmurs across the room. That series was reserved for sixth or seventh years. Even Sirius looked up at that.

"Acornias?" he asked, mispronouncing it badly.

"Confer with your partner, perhaps she can provide you some insight into the codex" Babbling asked, voice unreadable.

Carmen said nothing, but her grip on her quill tightened.

Sirius leaned in slightly once Basset turned away. "What do you know about this death codex?"

"It's a blood-bound funerary archive for an Ancient Greek family," Carmen murmured without looking at him. "It was its a translation of the original greek codex, the runic version inscribed by swedish witches later. Both chronicle the deaths of the Acarnanias' enemies and their own future visions of their line dying out. It's written in three dialects of Futhark as well, plus mirror glyphs in the Futhark versions are only visible under lunar charms or true new moons."

"So… bedtime reading."

She sighed. "We'll need restricted access tomes, a lunar ink stone, and a silencing ward for the study chamber unless you want to accidentally trigger a death vision."

Sirius blinked. "What?"

"Merlin," she whispered.

"You're like if Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin had a secret lovechild and then taught her how to weaponize her intellect."

Carmen arched her brow. "You're not far off".

"So do we have to translate every version of this?"

"No. Professor Babbling called it the Acarnanias inscription series, so that would be elder futhark version. Simple, honestly. "

"I'd say 'don't stress then,' but I dont think you ever do."

"I don't think you ever think."

"You're thinking about me?"

"I make it a point to study my enemies."

There was a pause.

"And am I your enemy?"

Carmen glanced at him then, just briefly. "That remains to be proven."

The corner of Sirius's mouth curled.

They fell into a rhythm, oddly efficient. Carmen wrote with her right hand and flipped glyph definitions with her left, lips moving in quick, silent translation. Sirius worked slower but steadier than anyone would expect—he muttered his translations aloud, occasionally copying her symbols when he thought she wasn't watching.

"You missed a declension," she said quietly, not looking up.

"I was testing you," he lied.

"That's the first time you've ever lied to me, don't make it a habit."

"How are you translating so fast?"

"Are you impressed?"

He grinned.

The class passed in quiet competition. When the bell finally rang, students began packing up, groaning over their lesser assignments and forming groups to complain about the reading load.

Carmen capped her ink and rolled up her parchment.

"We'll need to request access to the restricted section for the lunar codex. Meet me in the library tomorrow evening after Astronomy."

"Should I bring a leash and collar?"

She turned to him, eyes narrowed. "What does that mean? Is it meant to be obscene? I do not understand English desires."

He bit his tongue to keep from laughing. "Oh, I definitely want inform you"

She breezed past him, robes brushing his shoulder as she left the classroom.

James appeared from nowhere, arms folded. "What was that?"

Sirius blinked. "That," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "was my new study partner."

Remus joined them in the hall. "You're actually doing coursework?"

"She made me translate a funerary codex."

"She what?"

"She is very terrifying," Sirius admitted. "And very very hot. I'm very-very-very confused."

James frowned. "Do we need to rescue you?"

Sirius shrugged. "Please, dont."

Chapter 6 — Prophecy in the Stacks

The Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library was quieter than a tomb.

The brass-gated shelves were bound with enchantments so old they pulsed faintly under candlelight. Carmen stood just inside the upper level gate, a thin thread of light wound around her wrist—Scribere Lux, a permission tether from Madam Pince, who had grudgingly signed the access note after glancing once at Carmen's name and twice at her assigned Rune project.

Sirius was late.

She was scanning the third shelf of the Lunar Codices for the right book when the gate creaked behind her.

"Boo," Sirius said behind her shoulder.

"Do you enjoy being hexed?" she asked without looking up, still bent at the waist looking at bottom shelf for the lunar book she needed

He slipped in to lean against the bookshelf beside her, with a grin that was equal parts mischief and charm. "Depends on where you aim"

"I do not miss." she replied, not fully paying attention to him.

"Promises, promises."

Carmen pulled a slim volume from the bottom most shelf—Lunae Decantare: Mirror Glyphs and Magicks of the Moon—and handed it to him. "Hold that."

Sirius glanced at the cover. "You realize this book is cursed?"

"Only if you lie while reading it. I should be safe." she offered pointedly.

He laughed, low and genuine. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"No," she said, eyes flicking up. "But im not the one holding that book, so-"

There was a pause.

He tilted his head. "Why did you ask me to come?"

Carmen's scanning gaze returned to the shelves again. "Because you're my project partner."

"Try again."

She exhaled slowly, and the candlelight flickered around them. "Because-",

She didn't answer. Just walked down the stairs and deeper into the restricted section, her steps silent on the stone. He followed.

They stopped in a room lines with bookshelves but with an empty rune circle at its center, scorched and obviously heavily used at some point in the past. Carmen cast a soft Silencio Maxima and a ward sigil around the perimeter with four crisp flicks of her wand. She uttered not incantation but waved her wand, the empty rune circle filling with greek runes, Sirius had seen for the first time in that morning's class.

Sirius watched her. "That's an odd circle."

"It's an Acarnanias pattern. Woven to trap voices, trap truths, bind secrets, in case of—"

The moment she stepped across the final rune, she staggered. Her breath hitched.

Sirius crossed it to catch her before she fell, and he felt heavy magic wash over him like an icy ocean wave.

"Carmen—?"

Her eyes had gone fully white.

Her voice—when it came—was not hers. It echoed, layered like wind against cave stone.

"If the Black Heir forsakes his bloodline, the Black name shall be remembered only for its darkest acts. If the Black Heir forsakes his blood, his chosen family will bleed."

Silence slammed down. A whispering cold crawled through the air.

Carmen blinked, as the mist left her eyes.

Sirius hadn't let go of her arms.

"What…" she whispered, dazed. "What did I say—?" her eyes were wild now, concern and worry etched into every feature. Her mask was gone and she looked scared.

"You don't remember?"

She shook her head. Her hand trembled where it touched his bare wrist.

He stared at her, throat tight. "You– made a prophecy."

She laughed once, brittle and short.

"You said if I abandon my family—my blood family—then my real one will die."

Carmen went still.

Sirius dropped his arms. "That's what you said. Word for word."

He stared at her like she'd hexed him.

"Now why would I say something like that?" she whispered, her eyes screwed shut.

"Because," he said softly, "you're a Seer."

"No," she said, too fast. "No one knows that. No one can know that."

"Well, I do."

Carmen's pulse skittered.

"You can't tell anyone," she said. "If they know—if my brother knows you know, he will obliviate you or worse."

Sirius stepped closer. "I won't. I swear it."

She backed up until her spine hit the shelf.

"I didn't choose any of this."

"I know."

"I hate it."

"I understand you."

Their breathing was the only sound in the darkened alcove. Sirius's expression shifted—concern giving way to something quieter, something unreadable.

"You call me perro," he said at last. "Do you know about Remus?"

She nodded once. "You are a dog. He is another type of dog. All wizards are dogs in some way."

He didn't deny it.

Instead, he asked, "Was it real?"

"The prophecy?"

He nodded.

"I don't know what i said," she admitted. "I don't hear them. I just… wake up and everyone else looks afraid."

"I'm not afraid."

"It sounds like you should be."

Sirius smiled faintly. "You've warned me."

"Will you listen?"

"I never do."

Carmen shook her head and reached for the book still in his hands. Their fingers brushed.

"Thank you," she said.

"For catching you?"

"For not running away."

He leaned closer. "Why would I do that?"

"Because," she said softly, "even in this world, being touched by Sight makes you an other. And no one likes what they can't understand."

Sirius stared at her.

Then, without thinking, he reached up and tucked a loose curl behind her ear.

She didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.

Their breath mingled in the space between them.

"I want to understand you," he said quietly.

Carmen's eyes flicked to his.

"Why?" she asked.

Sirius sighed deeply. "Maybe I just want to know what happens next."

Carmen smiled then. A slow, dangerous thing.

"Then you'd better start translating."

Chapter 7 — Quidditch, Bruised Ribs & Broken Rules

"The body remembers violence, but it also remembers kindness. Unfortunately for the foolish, Carmen remembers everything."

The sky above the pitch was a darkening cobalt, stitched with thin clouds like torn parchment. Carmen's riding gloves were already on. Her broom floated beside her hip like a well-trained pet. Practice hadn't even started and she was already on edge.

"Ten laps," Augustus Rookwood barked, pacing along the Slytherin bench with the brutal posture of a general low on patience and high on caffeine. "After you have full-contact drills. Keep your bloody brooms under your arses or don't bother showing up next week."

Carmen kicked off hard and flew.

The autumn air was cold and vicious at this altitude. The wind burned across her nose and cheekbones, sharp enough to draw tears. She liked that part most. The pain made it easier to focus.

She circled the pitch, weaving in and out of the riders ahead of her, behind the Beaters—Gibbons and Travers—until she caught the tail of Mulciber's cloak snapping against her hands. Idiot. Flying too slow.

"Move," she snapped, then banked sharply to his left. He sneered and let her pass.

By the end of the tenth lap, everyone was scraped or winded. Carmen had led the procession from laps three to ten. The contact drills devolved quickly into chaos. Augustus had cursed the Bludgers so they were unpredictable—a curse only a Rookwood would even know existed. They veered like hunting dogs and dove with semi-sentient malice. Carmen dodged one by spiraling above it, narrowly missing the end of Rosier's broomstick as he swore. The drill ended, and they all moved to hover lower on the pitch.

When another Bludger came at her—not during play, but as she was hovering mid-air waiting for the whistle—it felt targeted, especially when Rowele and Rosier cackled as she spun out.

It cracked her side along her ribs with a sickening crunch.

She didn't cry out. Her breath just left her body in one short, shocked sharp gasp, and then she was spinning and then falling. Not tumbling—just a spiraling slide toward the pitch like a bird stunned mid-flight.

She hit the grass hard.

Someone screamed, possibly her. Many laughed.

Carmen curled into herself, eyes squeezed shut. Her wand had skittered from her belt. Her gloves were slick with mud.

Footsteps.

Not her captain, Augustus Rookwood.

Not the Madame Pomfrey with her kind voice and healing magic.

Rowle.

"Well," he drawled, looming over her. "That was over rather quickly."

She couldn't answer, silent in her rage and pain.

"You think you're so untouchable, Calderon. Because you've got a good name and fancy wandwork and that Spanish temper. You're just a witch, something nice to look at, but you're just another girl who bleeds."

She looked up at him then, blood on her lip from biting through it.

"Is this the only way you know to get a witch's attention?" she hissed.

Mulciber grinned—and drew his wand.

She was faster.

Even injured, Carmen silently summoned her dropped wand and sent a silent Confringo into the dirt at his feet, exploding a plume of mud and stone that knocked him backward onto his arse.

"Touch me again," she said, rising to her feet slowly, ribs protesting with every movement and breath, but her rage carried her forward, "and it will be last time you have hands."

Rosier came to drag Rowle off the pitch, shaking his head.

Rookwood had the decency to escort her to the locker room, but he said nothing until he left her there.

"It's good to finally have someone with instinct on the team. Don't let those idiots discourage you, Calderon. You're my last chance at the Cup before I graduate."

Rookwood didn't wait for her reply, and Carmen locked the heavy door behind her with three layers of enchantments.

She sank to the cold stone floor and peeled off her gloves.

Her abdomen was bruised black down to her hip and under her breast along one side. At least one rib was broken. Maybe two. Every breath stabbed and the ache was constant.

"Idiota," she muttered. "You should've Seen that coming." She was bitter in her beratement of herself.

A knock.

Not at the main door. At the side entrance, where all the house's locker rooms connected via the supply room.

A whisper came through the gap—infuriatingly familiar.

"Calderon."

She didn't answer, every breath still painful.

"Carmen! Open the door."

Still no response.

Sirius sighed. "I brought you something. Might have stolen it, but it's definitely helpful-"

She moved slowly to the door and cracked it an inch.

Sirius stood there with a bottle of something smokey and silver in one hand and a smaller Slytherin sweater in the other.

"Don't ask how I got it," he said. "Just drink."

She opened the door enough to let him slip in, then shut it quietly behind him.

"I'm bleeding internally," she said simply.

"Figured, I saw you fall-" he said, kneeling beside her. "But you're so bloody stubborn and proud and about to pass out, so here—"

He uncorked the vial and pressed it to her lips.

She took a cautious sip, then another. Pain-reducing potion. Expensive. Not Hogwarts-issue.

"Nicked from Madam Pomfrey?"

"Borrowed. Permanently."

Carmen's eyes closed as the potion slid down her throat, numbing the edge of her ribs. Her breath hitched anyway.

Sirius leaned back against the bench, watching her with an unreadable expression.

"Why are you here?" she asked quietly.

"I saw you fall."

"That doesn't answer my question. Be honest."

"I could say that I was spying on Slytherin's practice, but the truth is– I can't stop thinking about what you said," he said. "About- legacy."

Her eyes opened, slow and dark.

"I don't remember what I said, Sirius," she whispered. "I'm sorry if it was horrible. I try to remember everything else. Every spell. Every lie. Every injury." She winced as she sat up straight to level a firm gaze on him.

"The future may reveal itself through me, but it is not known to me. Whatever clarity you're looking for, I can't help you."

"I don't need your help, it's not about– You understand me. I think. "

She was quiet.

Sirius looked at her.

At the blood drying along her jaw from her split lip. At the hidden bruises she cradled in her arms. At the firm set of her mouth—proud, wounded, furious.

"Let me understand you, Carmen," he said softly.

She didn't look at him, lowering her gaze to his hands. She didn't stop him when he reached out, slowly, and pressed his palm to her side—just over her ribs and the darkest bruise.

"Tell me if this hurts."

"It all hurts." she tried to turn away, as tears fell unbidden.

"Yeah," he murmured. "I know."

She flinched, not from pain, but from how gentle his voice was. How warm his hand as it settled deeper into the bruise. He raised his wand next, pointing at the boggy swelling he could feel. He murmured vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur. Her ribs stitched together with soft clicks and the pain potion faded rapidly as the pain worsened before it got better.

For the moments after, they just sat there in silence.

Then Carmen's voice broke their quiet first, a whisper against the stone walls.

"If anyone finds out—"

"They won't," he said.

She turned her face toward him. And smiled.

It wasn't her usual smirk. It wasn't sharp or knowing or venom-laced.

It was soft and trusting. Completely human in a way he had never seen from a Slytherin witch.

"Thank you, perrito," she murmured.

He laughed once. "You're welcome, Brujita."

She leaned into his shoulder, just slightly.

And for the first time in weeks, Carmen Calderon let someone else carry the weight.

Chapter 8 — Astronomy, Detention & Things Left Unsaid

The Astronomy Tower was a cathedral of open air and velvet sky, and the stars shimmered like they had in the great hall during dinner.

Carmen adjusted the strap of her telescope case on her shoulder and climbed the final stair, boots clicking softly against stone. She arrived early and had her pick of empty seats, and selected the station nearest the northern quadrant, where Saturn hung low, and the moons of Jupiter winked in predictable formation.

Above her, the domed ceiling had been fully opened for the class session, the chill of late autumn wind bit through her outer cloak. She hated the cold and yearned for the hot sun and salty sea breeze of home.

"Good evening, Miss Calderon." the professor was only a minute behind Carmen, and placed her levitating stack of tomes on her desk silently.

"I trust your transition has been… manageable?" the professor asked.

"Mostly," Carmen replied, eyes still on the stars. "The stairs are always a hazard."

Sinistra smiled faintly, as she began writing on the board with her hand a piece of chalk, in an awfully muggle manner. Carmen had never heard a chalkboard make so much noise, the crunch of spent chalk, the soft tapping at the start of every new word, and the rare scratching sound. Carmen watched in rapt attention, forgetting to set up her telescope.

One by one, the other fifth-years trickled in and their arrival spurred Carmen to action. A cluster of Ravenclaws. A lone Hufflepuff. Then Lily Evans, hair braided back and cheeks ruddy from the wind. They exchanged a glance—polite, not warm—and Carmen didn't shirk. Then James arrived, Peter trailing between, followed by Remus, and finally—

Sirius plopped into the seat next to her without invitation. He was out of breath and tousled, as if he'd run from the other side of the castle. His chair skidded loudly as he landed.

"Late," Carmen murmured under her breath, but she didn't stop or hex him, either.

Professor Sinistra began the lesson, voice low and reverent. "Tonight, we chart the alignment of the outer houses. There is a slight lunar distortion at 2:14 a.m. Do not miss it."

The class fell into quiet rustling, the scratching of quills on parchment, and the gentle clicks of telescopic calibration. Carmen continued preparing her chart for notations, watching Sirius from her peripheral.

Sirius upended his satchel on their workstation carelessly, letting his parchment scrolls, broken and bent quills, and his uncased and extremely expensive telescope tumble roughly onto the wooden table. He sighed in satisfaction and stretched out his chart, barely sparring it a glance.

Sirius leaned slightly toward her to murmur, closer than should have, "You have a very firm quill grip. Is that aggression or artistry?"

She did not deign to reply. There were no other Slytherins in this session, but they weren't alone like they had been in the locker room.

He grinned, sitting back to watch the sky. "What do the stars say about me?"

"They say you've already made an error in your previous chart."

"Where!?" Sirius asked defensively, pulling his parchment closer to inspect. Others turned at the commotion; Ravenclaws glared, while the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors glanced in curiosity.

She didn't look at him directly as she spoke, calibrating her telescope with a few gentle clicks as she spoke, "You started wrong. Your chart is sideways."

He glanced at her and starred back down at his parchment, groaning softly as he saw her truth.

Sirius turned his telescope eastward, aligning it to Mars for no real reason. She noted the smooth, practiced way he calibrated the lenses. Not careless, despite appearances. Mars was beautiful tonight, but not their class subject.

Carmen paused her stargazing to take notes, and observe the classroom. Professor Sinistra watched the classroom as strolled the balcony edge behind them, and the Gryffindors stole glance at her and Sirius, though they were badly trying not to appear so. James Potter and Remus Lupin seemed to have particular trouble fighting the urge to glance their way. Carmen starred them down until they looked back down at their parchments bashfully. Professor Sinistra stopped to talk to the Ravenclaws and Carmen seized the opportunity,

"Do you enjoy stargazing?," she finally asked softly, still watching the room. As he spoke softly in reply, she turned to face him struck by his words.

"I learned the constellations like some muggles learn scripture," he muttered. "My mother- she'd wake us in the dead of night and demand we recite them. 'Stars do not sleep'. 'A Black must know his place among the Gods,' she'd say. When we made mistakes-, If we missed a single planet or star, we went the day without food. 'Only beasts eat without learning,' she says."

Carmen watched him in careful quiet, his calibrations so smooth the telescope was nearly silent. Professor Sinistra still occupied the unknown Ravenclaws, so Carmen reached under the table and placed her hand over his.

He had initially held his hand casually pressed on his thigh to hunch his shoulder forward to comically squint through his telescope. Now his white knuckled grip was fisted into the wrinkled material of his slacks.

He didn't react to her contact above the table's edge, only loosening his grip to hold her hand gently. Carmen knew he was only speaking now to prolong her contact, "Once I mixed up Mars and Mercury—she locked me in the potions cellar until the next sunrise." Sirius used his free hand to take notations, staring down at his parchment.

"There's a garden behind my mother's home in Greece," she murmured. "Only certain witches are allowed inside. Only we may tend to it. It's filled with poisonous things—wolfsbane, belladonna, grave lilies, and much worse,"

A pause, and she took a breath to scan the room and maintain her mask. The Ravenclaws were causing quite the scene by arguing with Professor Sinistra, and Carmen fought back a smirk.

"My mother took me there after my first-..., and she said, 'You are more than mortal. You are a living shrine to Fate. A girl or witch is only a flower that dies when it is cut, everything that blooms from you will hurt someone."

Carmen's fingers curled Sirius' tightly before letting go swiftly. James Potter was watching them, no longer distracted like the rest of class by the antagonizing Ravenclaws.

Carmen returned her hands to the top of the table, to her telescope dials and her quill for notes.

"She was an honest witch. That night, I dreamt of her death."

Sirius starred out into class and caught the eye of the only person watching them, James. Sirius blew him an exaggerated kiss, that James caught absently and slapped onto Remus's cheek.

"You're not what you pretend to be," she said without looking up from her telescope.

"I've heard that before. From you."

"Then maybe you should start listening."

Silence settled between them, thick and tentative, until Professor Sinistra announced the end of class. Carmen lingered behind, under the guise of late night exhaustion, feigning a yawn. Everyone but the Gryffindors were out the door, and carmen could see Sirius trying to subtly wave his friends off ahead of him, when-

"Mr. Black. Miss Calderon."

Sinistra's voice broke across the now empty tower like a bell.

"Detention," she said evenly. "For whispered conversation during the entire duration of class."

Carmen opened her mouth to object, but Sirius beat her to it.

"We weren't whispering, Professor. I was just flirting, she didn't even answer-."

"I am aware of how you flirt Mr Black," Sinistra replied stiffly, obviously Sirius had crossed many personal boundaries in his ploy to appear a fool. "You can finish your conversation while polishing the observatory telescope, you may use school issued brooms not your fancy quidditch brooms. Tomorrow evening, after dinner."

Carmen's eyes closed in dejection, at least she'd be too tired to have nightmares.

By the time Sinistra dismissed them, the air was so cold it ached in Carmen's lungs. She gathered her case, and pulled her cloak tighter around her.

Sirius followed.

"You didn't have to—"

"I know," he said. "Shame we can't use our brooms, a midnight broom race with you sounds like a date."

"The last thing I need is a public courtship."

"You are so Bloody Proper," Sirius groaned with an evil smirk, pausing his stride completely.

They walked in silence down the rest of the long spiral stair, footsteps echoing through the stone.

At the base of the tower, she stopped.

"I don't like being watched."

"I wasn't watching," he said.

"Your friends are."

She turned toward the corridor that led to the dungeons.

Sirius hesitated, then turned sharply to peer down the opposite end of the hall leading up to the Gryffindor tower, just catching a sliver of his friends' stumbling shoes as the rest of their bodies were hidden by James' invisibility cloak. Sirius cursed, and trudged towards his friends.

Carmen never broke stride, finally reaching the bigger stone stairs leading to the dungeons. Galinthias brushed against her ankle as she reached the last step. Carmen knelt to scoop the half-kneazle into her arms, burying her fingers in warm dark fur.

"You are the very best thing in my life," she whispered, as she had a thousand times in Galinthias' life.

Galinthias purred like a thunderstorm, and flopped against her chest.

Chapter 9 — The Lions' Dorm

The Gryffindor boys' dormitory was warm and cluttered. Socks and undershirts and pants, hung like flags from every available post. The beds—four-poster and scarlet—were draped with half-drawn curtains, stinking Quidditch gear on James' and Sirius', heavily notated spellbooks on Remus', and a suspiciously sniffling cactus Peter had accidentally cursed in 1st year. The cactus had wailed like a human baby when they mentioned vanishing it, and they had all kept it out of misplaced guilt.

Sirius flopped backward onto his mattress with a groan, arms splayed like he was waiting to be crucified. James lay upside down on his bed, legs draped over the headboard, wand tucked behind his ear as pushed book and trash from his bed to the floor.

"You're awfully quiet, Black," James said, cracking an eye open. "Usually you're louder than the Cactus."

"I'm thinking."

"That can't mean anything good," Peter muttered, digging through his trunk for clean socks.

"Do you lot ever think it's odd," James mused aloud, "that Sirius' is spending so much more time in the library this term?"

Sirius blinked at the ceiling, replying flatly, "It's OWL year, Prongs."

"It's corruption," James called like a barrister. "Slytherin seduction." Peter added.

Remus, slouched at the small desk in the corner, glanced back over his shoulder, "He's got Potions and Runes with her, it's not like they're meeting for tea in Knockturn." After Peter and James rolled their eyes and looked away, Remus turned further to wink at Sirius.

James, rolling onto his stomach, added cheerfully, "I'm just saying—if its love, and she hexes you in a fit of pique,-"

Sirius groaned. "Can we please not do this?"

"Now that you've gone over to the snakes," James said with mock disgust. "What's next, lunch at the lake with Reggie?"

Sirius stiffened.

Peter blinked. "Actually—wasn't Regulus sitting with her during lunch last week?"

Remus stood to sit backwards in his chair and watch his friends, only barely reading the book in his loose grip.

Sirius sat up. "What?"

Peter nodded innocently. "Yeah, but no one else sat with them. I passed them on my way back from the loo. Looked like they were arguing about an essay—?"

James let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell. Carmen Calderon: forging peace between warring brothers one homework assignment at a time."

"What do you know-!," Sirius snapped.

James grinned. "You just happen to be partnered in Potions, Runes, and now Astronomy. And Regulus is talking to her too. 111 doesn't equal nothing, Sirius. You don't have to lie- so what! you like a snake, just don't let her poison you."

"She is completely tame," Sirius rebutted, launching his pillow at James's head.

James dropped one leg gracefully to block. "It's fine, Pads. Really. Some of us come from long lines of Gryffindors. You? You even being here in that uniform is practically a walking rebellion."

Sirius paused mid-sulk. "This is harder for me."

James shrugged. "And if she makes that easier, we won't fault you for it, will we lads?" James called out, and Peter and Remus both nodded in agreement.

Silence.

Remus finally closed his book. "We are not judging you, Sirius. We're just… not blind. We don't have to lie to each other."

Sirius leaned over to steal the pillow from under James's head to replace his own.

"I'm not in love," he said as yanked the pillow out roughly, pulling his sweater and shirt off to drop on the floor before climbing back into bed properly . "I'm… just observing."

"Observing her body, maybe," Peter muttered loudly.

In the quiet that followed, no one said what they were all thinking.

If Carmen Calderon was trouble—and she was—then Sirius Black had already signed up for a whole lot of struggle.

Maybe that was already his fate.

Chapter 10 — The Aftermath of Fire and Bone

The Snitch brushed her knuckles like a kiss.

Carmen closed her fist around it, and the stadium erupted in noise—shouts, boos, roars of triumph. The whistle pierced the air a second later, confirming what the crowd already knew: Slytherin had won.

Carmen hovered high for a heartbeat longer than necessary, fingers clenched around the fluttering metal wings. Her ribs still ached from earlier hits, and her hair was wind-snapped into knots. She let the sound roll over her like seafoam on stone, distant and meaningless.

Below, the pitch fractured into chaos.

Rowle's elbow had slammed straight into Sirius Black's ribs before the whistle and end had been called.

This was not part of strategis play, just a unsubtle spiteful move.

Sirius was knocked off his broom very close to the ground, the wood spiraling away as his body crumpled and fell limply toward the turf. Most of the crowd didn't even notice—not yet. Their eyes were still on Carmen, midair, glowing with victory.

Hers were on him.

His shoulder hit grass first, then the rest of his body followed, lastly the side of his skull on packed earth.

Carmen passed Rookwood who was scolding Rowle on the grass. Carmen stuffed the snitch into the pocket of Rookwood cloak without a single word exchanged and bypassed the Slytherin locker room entirely.

She landed behind the stands and shouldered her way through the green canvas flap of Pomfrey's mediwitch tent, usually busy during Slytherin matches.

Sirius was already there—levitated in by Pomfrey herself. He was sleeping on a narrow cot, shirt stained with mud and grass from the fall, blood smeared along his temple. One arm hung unnaturally lower than the other, dislocated.

Madam Pomfrey came in to stand over him with a potion bottle she set next to him. The matronmuttered diagnostic charms under her breath, her wand weaving a net of pale blue light over his chest and head.

Carmen slipped inside silently.

Pomfrey glanced up and blinked. "You're not injured."

"No," Carmen said shortly.

The matron raised a brow. "Then—?"

"I saw him fall."

"Do you have an interest in healing magic, Miss Calderon?"

"No." Carmen answer flately but moved to the opposite side of the cot to Pomfrey. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the hum of her continued spellwork.

"Concussed," Pomfrey muttered. "Bruised ribs and right cheekbone. Dislocated shoulder. Hairline fracture in the skull—but no brain swelling yet. If he wakes up before I finish healing, he might think he's still on his broom."

"Can I help?"

Pomfrey hesitated.

Then handed her a tiny silver vial of concentrated pain relieving potion. "10 drops under his tongue so I can pop his arm back in."

Carmen obeyed. Her touch was surprisingly soft. She held his jaw steady with one hand, filling the dropper with the gloves, already stained from the pitch, smudged dark against his pale skin.

"I've never seen him take a hit like that," Pomfrey murmured. "He's usually quicker."

Carmen said nothing. But her brow tightened.

"I suppose Slytherin's win brings you closer to the Cup," Pomfrey added, trying for small talk.

Carmen didn't answer. Her hand lingered where it brushed Sirius's lips. Pomprey did indeed audibly 'pop' his arm back in.

When Sirius stirred, it was slow—his eyes fluttered open, his chest hitching like he'd surfaced from deep water.

Pomfrey steadied him. "Easy, Mr. Black. You took a nasty fall."

He blinked blearily at the ceiling, then at Carmen.

"Here to kick a dog while he's down?," he rasped, his voice hoarse and thick with confusion.

Carmen blinked. "You are not being kicked. Rowle knocked you unconscious."

"It's a saying," he mumbled. "A muggle thing."

"That's good, I thought you'd gone rabid." She released a full breath in a soft sigh, realizing she had not breathed fully since she saw his fall.

Sirius grinned faintly, wincing as it tugged at the bruising along his cheek. "Snakes aren't usually this kind to their enemies." His speech was slurred heavily at the end of his statement and Carmen noticed that his pupils weren't dilating properly.

"I am not a snake, perrito," Carmen said quietly. Then, softer: "Just a witch, capable of choosing her own enemies."

Pomfrey failed to hide her smirk, and waved her wand to settle Sirius upright.

"Mr Black, you will sit here for ten minutes more, until my spells finish healing. No sleeping, and no arguing."

"Poppy, darling, -," he muttered.

Pomfrey chuckled. "See? He's still a rake, but he will be fine. You can go celebrate your victory with your house, Miss Calderon."

But Carmen didn't move.

She just stared at him. At the shallow rise and fall of his chest. At the smear of blood still slicking his hair down at an odd angle, his drooping eyelids, and lopsided grin.

Pomfrey watched Carmen now, curious.

"I sometimes take apprentices with an interest in healing, if your interested in staying?" she asked, charming a damp cool towel with her wand and holding it out to Carmen.

Carmen turned, lips pressed into a thin line, taking the towel and draping it over Sirius' bruised shoulder.

"I'll consider it," she answered.

And with that, Pomfrey left the tent, likely to heal some of the smaller scrapes and bruises, everyone had after quidditch.

They were alone in the mediwitch tent now, and Carmen sat perfectly still at the edge of Sirius's cot, careful not to disturb the spell matrix Pomfrey had left glowing faintly over his chest. Their thighs wer pressed flush against each other, as she leaned forward to needlessly adjust his cooling towel. Her fingers curled around the edges of the damp fabric, not pressing, just holding it firmly to him. Sirius sighed as if it had provided more relief from his discomfort, but the pain potion should still be in effect. Sirius' gaze trailed lazily from her face, to her tightly braided hair, her slytherin seeker uniform, down to her gloved hands still resting on his shoulder like a priestess at a sacred vigil.

"Ahem" came a familiar voice from the tent flap, "Miss Calderon."

Carmen turned, spine straightening, hand retreating, but she did not stand.

Professor Slughorn stood just inside the closed tent flap, "How fortunate," he said, grin wide, concern evident. "I was just on my way to request a tonic from Poppy when I happened upon, my team's seeker. Your team is looking for you, for the common room celebration, Miss Calderon." He gestured vaguely backward toward the pitch.

Carmen didn't move.

Slughorn stepped closer, lowering his voice slightly. "It's… admirable. You compassion, of course. But it is not proper at this moment, my dear. A witch of your family, and- Mr Black is a- unique student—well, I am sure you understand my meaning, dear."

She didn't answer, but her jaw flexed as she glanced back down at Sirius. His bruised cheek was healed now, Pomfrey's spells still working.

"Come," Slughorn prompted gently, gesturing toward the still closed flap of the tent. "Let's allow Mr. Black his rest. No doubt he'll make a full recovery—Poppy is incredibly skilled."

Carmen looked at Sirius one last time, and he grasped her hand tightly in reply, before she slowly stood and their clasped hands dropped away from each other. She didn't look back at Sirius as she rounded his cot to leave. She didn't even glance at Slughorn as she passed him, roughly shoving the flap open in her frustration.

"Very good," Slughorn murmured, as he followed her out, not sparring Sirius a kind word or even a glance.

Perfect. With everything set, here is Chapter 11 – Letters in the Dark, told entirely through correspondence and introspection. It captures the creeping dread of pureblood political maneuvering, Slughorn's subtle manipulations, Javier's schemes, and the quiet threat that Carmen's choices are no longer her own.

Chapter 11 — Letters in the Dark

A seasonably cold rain fell that morning, silvering the window panes of Slughorn's office.

The fire had dimmed to embers, but he hadn't bothered to relight it.

Horace Slughorn dipped his quill into the expensive black ink he save for important correspondence, a gift from a former student. He began to write—not with the usual gregarious flourish he reserved for party invitations but with a calculated care he reserved for the old families, whose heirs were entrusted into his care and filled his house.

To Don Javier Adamas Calderon,
Lord of Casteddu di Calderon, Heir of the Spanish Alchemical Seat

Don Calderon,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I write to you with a matter of both gravity and delicacy concerning your esteemed sister, Miss Carmen Calderon.

As her Head of House and Professor, I feel a duty to inform you of a particular incident which, though likely well-intentioned, raised concerns regarding her sense of... propriety.

During the recent Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, Miss Calderon performed admirably. Your sister's capture of the Snitch was executed with the poise and precision I have come to expect from her.

However, following the unfortunate injury of Mr. Sirius Black on the opposing team, I observed Miss Calderon attending to his injuries in the mediwitch tent, alone, unsupervised, long past the presence of faculty.

While her intention may have been driven by her compassion, I fear such proximity—unchaperoned—could incite rumors among the other students.

I believed it best to share this observation with you, her guardian, directly trusting in your wisdom.

Professor Horace E. F. Slughorn
Head of Slytherin House

The parchment was perfectly dry and crisply folded when the owl took flight, bearing Slytherin's elegant wax seal.

Days passed, and the sky only darkened as winter settled over Britain.

An owl approached a townhouse in London, black-feathered and silent. The owl landed on the owl perch places below a study window and gently tapped at the glass.

The parchment it carried was thick, sealed with gold wax, and written in a precise hand Carmen would have recognized instantly.

But this letter wasn't for her.

It was addressed to another.

To Lord Orion Black,
of The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black,

Esteemed Lord Black,

I trust you will not take offense at my directness—it is a trait of my culture, I believe. I write today not merely as Don Calderon, but as the elder brother and sole family to my sister, Carmen Calderon.

As you may be aware, my sister began attending Hogwarts this year and is preparing for her OWL exams alongside your eldest son.

Now I find myself inquiring into the future of your eldest son, Sirius. The Head of my sister's Hogwarts house, Professor Horace Slughorn, has notified me that your son has taken a rather unexpected interest in my sister's welfare.

While I have no intention of impeding harmless scholastic camaraderie, I must ask plainly.

Is your son already bound by contract to a betrothal?

I inquire with no malice, as Professor Slughorn has assured me nothing untoward had occured.

Alliances in England may prove beneficial for me, as the last scion of my house.

With the deepest respect for your house, The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black,

Don Javier Calderon
Head of Calderon House

The reply came sooner than expected, the very next afternoon, and sealed with obsidian wax.

To Don Javier Calderon,

Lord Calderon,

Your inquiry is welcome.

My son is one of the more unique members of my house, but he remains its only heir for the position of family head when my father passes on.

The family magicks recognize Sirius Orion Black as its only heir, but we have never made arrangements for his betrothal.

We would be gladdened should he anchor himself to a powerful, and pure family such as yours.

As for your sister, I have heard from friends in the Wizengamot that she will have her choice of any of the old families. I know many Lords have already submitted betrothal arrangement proposals to you, and I am honored you have considered my family without proposal.

If your offer is true, I will consider dowry negotiations.

Lord Orion Black
Of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black

Chapter 12 — Restricted - Rumors

The first rumor broke at breakfast.

"She hexed him in the locker room, and he begged for more" Avery snickered over his toast, eyes locked on Carmen further down the Slytherin table.

"No, no—she healed him," Carrow hissed.

"Maybe she did both," Rowle offered roughly, and was promptly silenced by Carmen's hex that superheated his fork and made it fly up to his sleeve cuff. Rowle fell over trying the shake the burning silverware out of his robes.

At the Gryffindor table, the commentary was equally maddening.

"They were alone in the medi-tent for ages," Marlene McKinnon murmured, smirking into her pumpkin juice.

"Probably just talking," James offered with a shrug, too quickly.

Lily arched her brow in reply, "We know how Sirius talks."

Remus glanced up from The Magick of Linguistic Decay in Futhark Runes, unimpressed. "They're working on the Acarnanias Series, they'll have to be in the Restricted Section. Alone. Frequently." Remus's smirk was coy as he added fuel to the rumor fire.

James grinned, raising his goblet. "To inter-house relationships. Im a product of one and i turned out fantastic!"

Lily rolled her eyes, pausing to smack Peter over the head when he raised his goblet to add, "To public academic foreplay."

Sirius didn't say a word, only adding a few more notes to his now correct Astronomy chart.

That Evening – The Library, Restricted Section

The permission slip Carmen had submitted to Madam Pince had been worded with surgical precision:
"Necessary for ongoing Rune translation project. May require invocation of lunar enchantments."

Professor Babbling had recommended Carmen sign the slip with her full spanish name.

Carmen Charikleia Acheolopoulos Arcananias Melis Calderon.

Madam Pince had whispered Arcananias once under her breath, before quickly handing over the brass-wrought key they could keep for the duration of their project

Sirius was already waiting outside the gate, arms folded and smirking.

"You're early," she said, leading the way and closing the gate behind them with a practiced wand flick.

"I live in constant fear of your punctuality."

She didn't pause her stride, moving to the table they would work at, "Smart for a dog."

Sirius blinked. "Is that a compliment?"

"Hmm…" Carmen was already sitting and reading what they had translated so far.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "I'll still take it as a compliment."

She continued to ignore him, and Sirius didn't push. He set his books on the table beside her and began unpacking.

"So," he said after a moment. "Have you heard the rumors?"

Carmen flicked her wand quickly, casting a complete privacy ward around the perimeter. "Yes. Only the upper years are brave enough to say anything. The Ravenclaws think we're collaborating on cruel prank. The Hufflepuffs think we're locked into a betrothal contract. The Slytherins think I'm going to blackmail you."

"And the Gryffindors?" Sirius hoped she hadn't heard any of the crass things his friends were saying.

She hesitated, "Think you're trying to seduce me."

He faltered trying to gauge her reaction, but her mask was solid.

"Sirius," she murmured, not looking at him, "are you planning to actually help translate tonight."

He coughed. "Right-."

They bent over the first of the runestones—etched on ancient vellum, the lunar-activated glyphs only visible under the gentle light of the enchanted orb Carmen drew from her satchel and left levitating over their table, shedding a soft silvery glow. The glyphs danced.

Carmen reached to trace a mirrored sigil on the corner of the vellum, "The mirrored moon glyphs reveal much in the writers' meaning," she explained. "In Seer codices, it usually marks divergences in prophecies: the 'ifs' and the 'whose.'"

Sirius starred. "I didn't know that prophecies were that nuanced."

"Hmm."

Sirius forgot his work and watched her closely, and saw the moment a stray curl fell from behind her ear to bounce in front of her concentrated face. Sirius gently reached out and, with surprising delicacy, pushed the curl behind her ear—again.

She didn't flinch.

Carmen whispered, "You're feeding the rumor mill, like wood to a fire."

Carmen closed her eyes for a breath—one slow, centering inhale.

"Sirius," she murmured instead, "Make yourself useful and read the next line aloud."

"I can't read Greek."

"Good," she said, voice sharper now. "Then listen instead."

Later That Week – Great Hall

The rumors had doubled.

"They were in the Restricted Section again."

"Black is actually on time for classes this term,"

"Do you think she's cursed him?"

"No—worse. I think he likes her."

James muttered to Remus across the Gryffindor table, "This is tragic."

Up at the Slytherin table, Carmen sipped her tea with utter indifference, unaware—or pretending to be—that Regulus Black was watching her with unnerving scrutiny.

Because if a Slytherin witch had caught his brother's attention–, well perhaps he hadn't lost his brother to the lions like he had thought.

Perfect—now we continue with Chapter 13: a storm of expectation and misdirection, with Carmen dreading the approaching winter break and Sirius giving her a gift that hits far closer to home than he realizes. Quiet, snowy Hogsmeade streets, political letters unspoken, and the gentle ache of almost-truths.

Chapter 13 — River Ghosts and Quodpot Gifts

Carmen had the dream again the night the owl arrived.

The Acheolus River was dark in her mind, its waters blackened by twilight, the reeds long and yellowed. She walked barefoot along the edge, her footsteps silent. No birds. No crickets. Just the river, slow and thick, curling like a serpent through the Greek wilderness.

And there, standing in the shallows, was her mother. Pale and silent. Hair unbound, nightgown soaked through and clinging to her body as if she had drowned and crawled back to speak.

Except it wasn't her mother. Not truly. The Sight made shadows convincing.

"Θυμήσου τι σου πήραν," the river-wraith whispered. Remember what they take from you.

Carmen woke before dawn with her pillow damp and her knuckles clenched.

The owl arrived at breakfast. It was smaller than Javier's usual messengers—grey, neat, and sharp-eyed. It dropped the letter directly onto her plate with surgical precision. She recognized the seal instantly.

Calderon of Acheolus.

Not the Sardinian crest. The Greek one.

That meant they'd be traveling.

She didn't open it until later—alone, in the quiet of her dorm. Carmen unfolded it slowly beneath the flickering light of her bedside lantern. Her roommates had gone to bed earlier, but she had lingered at her desk, translating a portion of the Acarnanias series for Babbling.

The letter was written in Spanish,

Hermanita,
I hope your studies are fruitful. I've spoken with Professor Slughorn—he says your instructors are pleased.
Winter approaches and we will return to Greece for the holidays.
There are guests I would like you to meet, who appreciate our family's history.
They will meet us at Mother's home along the Acheolus.
I will arrange the Portkey, pack accordingly.

—Don

No name. No details. Just someone. But she already knew.

Antonin Dolohov.

Her brother's Durmstrang friend.

Carmen stared at the letter for a long time. The fire crackled faintly in the hearth, the only other sound in the room the soft, weighty snore of Galinthias curled up in her lap.

She folded the letter back into neat perfect quarters and set it aflame with the tip of her wand. No ashes. No evidence.

The next morning was the last Hogsmeade weekend before winter break, and it arrived with flurries of soft snow and the smell of cinnamon from Honeydukes, but Carmen's mind was elsewhere.

Sirius was already waiting outside the Three Broomsticks when she arrived, cloaked in grey wool and cheek tinged pink with cold.

"We could go to Zonko's," he suggested, trying not to sound like he was trying so hard. The snow had prevented most of the crowds, but there were students milling about and they were watching.

She raised a brow. "You want me to laugh?"

"I want you to feel normal."

"I haven't felt normal ever," she said, though her voice lacked bite.

"Probably never received a Christmas gift either, then" he said.

She narrowed her eyes. "You know I haven't."

He grinned, then glanced toward the empty secluded alley between Scrivenshaft's and the empty tailor's shop.

"Come on," he said. "I have something for you."

The alley was half-buried in snow along the edges so they stood dead center. Sirius fished something from his enchanted satchel and withdrew a book. Slim. Bound in olive leather, the title etched in delicate gold ink: Ελεγείες κάτω από την Σελήνη —Elegies Beneath the Moon.

He pressed the small book into her hands, "It was in the Rare Books room at Blackwell's. I know it's greek." Sirius said too quickly, too casually. "Didn't even realize it was poetry until we finished our project. There's an inscription on the title page-,"

Carmen flipped to the first page where greek runes read,

To our Daughters, and the Line Beyond

May your words never be silenced, and your Sight never sold.

– C. Acheolopoulous Acarnanias

Her fingers trembled as she shut the book gently and held it to her chest reverently. She llooked up at him, her mask crumbling. "You don't know what this is."

"No," Sirius said honestly. "But you do."

"It's hers." Carmen's voice was quiet, shocked. "My mother's grandmother. She married a Mycenaean scribe, taken to some tiny unplottable island. She never returned to her birth family after she was married off, her prophecies were removed from our family collection. We have nothing from her life, but she continued to use her maiden name–,"

Carmen laughed suddenly. It was a soft, stunned sort. She reached into her own satchel and withdrew something wrapped in dark red paper.

"This is for you. I thought Iwould give it to you after the new year, as is the wizarding yule custom, but I am glad I thought to bring it today." she said pointedly holding out the large package. She had brought it thinking she would return in the new year, betrothed to Dolohov against her will.

Sirius unwrapped it slowly, a heavy-duty Chaser's helmet.

Reinforced, intricately tooled, clearly enchanted for protection, and unmistakably designed for Quodpot. The front plate bore a sigil like a flame bursting from the skull of a phoenix.

"It's—" Sirius began, fingers brushing the worn leather. "This is... not regulation."

"It is! Its from an American maker for Quodpot, but there's no rules against it for Quidditch. Quodpot helmets are built for impact," Carmen said. "The ball explodes, I'm sure you know."

Sirius turned the helmet over in his hands, speechless.

Carmen watched him.

"I figured," Carmen shrugged. "If you're going to get concussed again, it should at least take some effort."

He turned it over in his hands again.

"If you don't like it, I can easily–," she said quickly.

"It's perfect," he said, softly.

A beat passed.

"Do you believe in fate?" He asked suddenly.

"I believe in choice," she said. "But I know that, sometimes, fate cheats us."

Chapter 14 – Platform 9 (Parents POV)

Platform 9 thrummed with anticipation—the kind that only gathered at the edge of holidays.

Snow clung to the hem of expensive cloaks and the brims of wizarding hats, as parents and siblings filtered in, chattering brightly. Aurors in casual discreet grey robes lingered at the edges of the crowd, pretending not to watch too closely.

The Black family did not wait with the rest.

They stood at the far end of the platform beneath a wrought-iron arch, in the shadow of the overhang like marble statues watching a battle unfold.

Orion Black was resplendent in traditional winter robes—midnight black lined with silver fur, his House crest engraved on his rings, cufflinks, and pocket watch. His wife and cousin, Walburga, tall and elegant, wore a matching fur-collared cloak. Her fingers were covered in dark moke gloves. They stood in silence. Regal. Imperious.

Until Javier Calderon arrived.

He moved like a man who couldn't be questioned—only obeyed. His robes were a deep dark red, accented in gold. He wore his father's ring, a black and gold cauldron insignia, which marked him as the ruling Calderon, even here in England.

Javier also wore his uncle's pin over his breast. The pin was gold and shaped like an ancient egyptian reed lockpick—his mother's family's symbol for Seers, meant to symbolize revealing truths.

"Don Calderon," Orion said with a faint nod. "You're earlier than most."

"Punctuality reveals character," Javier replied, offering his gloved hand. "And I like to see who arrives late."

Orion smirked slightly and shook his hand. Walburga did not offer hers.

"Lord Black," Javier continued, inclining his head. "And Lady Walburga, your family's noble reputation precedes you. I am deeply honored to finally meet you both."

Walburga only nodded in acknowledgement, differing to her husband.

A pause. The whistle of a train in the distance. The families fell into step together, ambling slowly along the platform's edge, waiting for their childrens' arrival.

"Professor Slughorn writes highly of your sister," Walburga said after the silence had dragged too long, eyes glittering like volcanic glass. "He says she is cunning and poised. Intelligent and ambitious. He thinks she will secure the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin this term, breaking a long dry spell."

"She could. She is all that and more," Javier agreed, "but she is still young. Too headstrong."

"She is the last of your line," Orion said pointedly. "Aside from you, of course."

" I am bound by my duty to carry on the Calderon line," Javier murmured. "The burden of our mother's inheritance falls to her and has narrowed her path. She thinks she can choose for herself-" Javier was too open and honest, and his exasperation with his sister was obvious.

"Not unlike our Sirius," Orion interrupted.

Walburga's lips thinned, her nostrils flared. She said nothing.

Javier seized the moment.

"There is potential here, Lord Black." he said. "For an alliance that will protect them both and command respect. I have no illusions about the world my sister is entering—there will soon be war, whether the Ministry names it or not."

"And where do your opinions on the matter lie?" Walburga asked carefully, the train now in sight, rumbling closer.

"I believe in the magic that has upheld our families for countless millennia, and know that success is always within reach of those deserving. Someone who fights for our right of inheritance is already rising," Javier said softly, eyeing the Aurors further down the platform.

"But even a single powerful wizard can only be a single tide in a much larger storm. Unlike the common multitudes, my family has thrived in spite of the rise and fall of magical and muggle empires. The Romans. The Byzantines, The Ottomans. The International Confederation of Wizards. El Ministerio de Magia. My ancestors have buried gods, and watched on as the world crowned lowly beasts. We adapt." Javier ended with a shrug.

Orion's expression remained unreadable, but he nodded slowly. "Then you already know what happens to those who refuse to adapt. Like our son, and like your sister?"

"That is why I'm offering these terms," Javier said, voice low now, for them alone. "Name your dowry, vault access, your pick of our estates. The Achelous river house will have to remain in her name, and the Casteddu in mine, but she will serve the interests of any family she binds herself to, beyond compare."

"You assume she'll obey a contract–," Walburga said with disdain.

"I know she will choose the wisest path when the illusion of choice is removed. She is a Slytherin."

The Blacks didn't answer.

"My invitation to Greece still stands, Lord Black. I hope your family will join us for yule."

Walburga glanced sideways toward her husband, clearly not having heard of any invitation.

Orion's eyes were already tracking the train.

The scarlet engine screamed to halt at the platform, steam bursting from its undercarriage, white and thick smoke.

"I will await your owl," Javier offered smoothly.

"You will not wait long. We will attend your yule celebration." Walburga answered. Orion glanced at her sharply.

"I've never been to Greece, Orion." Walburga offered as her defence.

The train doors slammed open all at once.

The platform erupted in shouts and movement, a sea of students flooding out with laughter and trunks and pets, their parents and families reaching to gather them close.

Sirius stepped backwards down onto the platform without looking for his family, his rucksack slung over one shoulder, and a trunk handle in his grip. He lowered a trunk that was not his carefully to the platform ground, and stepped back into the train to collect a large and purring black cat. Sirius didn't notice his father. But Orion noticed him.

Orion quizzically looked at Sirius's neat robes, and the cat he handled carefully.

Carmen stepped down next, taking the cat from his arms to place on top of her trunk.

They stood together for a moment sharing a look and exchanging no words, only parting in separate directions.

Absolutely—continuing seamlessly from the end of Chapter 14, here is Chapter 15 — Hogwarts Express Return Home, told primarily from Sirius's perspective, with interludes of Carmen and Regulus's internal thoughts. Expect introspection, emotional subtext, and that aching slow-burn tension you've established so beautifully.

Chapter 15 — Hogwarts Express Return Home

For Sirius, the train ride home always carried a strange weight, something between the cold of Scottish winter and the frigid ice of his parents disapproval for their Lion heir.

Sirius spotted her through the glass as he passed compartments, dragging his trunk down the narrow aisle with James trailing behind him. Her silhouette was framed in frosted light from the window. She sat with her feet tucked under her, Galinthias purring at her side, her cloak's hood drawn low. She wasn't reading. She wasn't even watching the snow. Just... sleeping?

Sirius paused.

James ran into him from behind. "What is it?"

"She's alone."

James leaned to look. "Pretty sure you're the only member of her fan club, mate."

Sirius didn't answer. He opened his trunk in the middle of the aisle and tore out a piece of parchment from his graded Astronomy chart. It was his highest mark so far. On it, in cramped but elegant script, he wrote:

Sirius Orion Black

Topmost bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place, London

Before he could second-guess himself, Sirius pushed open the compartment door.

Carmen didn't look up right away.

"Stick to your pack, perrito" she said without moving.

"Just wanted to give you this–," he said, standing directly in front of her.

That got her attention. Carmen tilted her head back, the corner of her mouth quirking upward in amusement.

"Not a love letter, I hope."

"Next time," he said, with a wink.

He handed her the parchment, and she took it without hesitation. Read it. Then refolded it carefully, deliberately.

"Your bedroom? Mr Black–," she teased before noticing James Potter smirking out in the corridor. Her mask fell back into place immediately. "You want me to write to you?"

"You might need help studying," he said quickly, braggadociously.

"You mean, you might." she corrected, with an arching brow.

"Yes," Sirius admitted, "I might."

She tucked the paper into her pocket without a word. Then, "I'll look forward to your letters."

And that was that.

The whistle blew as the train began to trudge along to London.

Sirius left with James and Carmen returned to her cat nap with Galianthias.

Carmen

The platform in London was chaotic.

Students spilled onto the cobblestones, laughter and shouts rising over the hiss of steam. Trunks clattered. Owls hooted. Galinthias leapt down gracefully from atop her trunk and weaved herself protectvely between Carmen's legs as she finally stood alone again. Sirius had helped her with her trunk, and she was glad no one had noticed in the chaos.

Javier, in tailored red robes embroidered with gold, wore an unreadable expression. But it wasn't him that caught her attention.

He was standing just beyond a stoic pair.

A man and woman—tall, dark-haired, with noble features like carved obsidian.

The woman was living ice in black velvet. The man, older, taller, reminded Carmen of the marble busts in the Casteddu catacombs.

They bore a striking resemblance to Sirius and Regulus.

Carmen's breath caught for just a moment.

The Blacks.

They were watching her.

No, not just her. Javier as well. She straightened, lifted her chin, and adjusted her gloves and cloak neatly. If they expected a pureblood witch, they'd get one—poised, perfect, deadly.

Her gaze swept the platform. She didn't see Dolohov.

That was more alarming than Javier's smile or the Blacks' presence.

Sirius

Sirius didn't even notice his parents until the crowd parted.

He was too busy watching Carmen—watching her slip behind her mask again.

Javier was speaking to her now, offering clipped formalities.

Carmen's shoulders were stiff. Her mask, already firmly in place.

Sirius didn't move. He couldn't.

He just watched as she smoothly scooped Galinthias into her arms, nodded once to Javier, and walked toward the edge of the platform like nothing at all had happened.

But before she disappeared into the crowd, she turned back and met his eyes across the chaotic expanse of platform 9 .

She smiled, just for him. Anyone could have seen it, but luck must have been on his side.

A real smile. A promise she couldn't keep. Then she was gone.

Chapter 16 — The Portkey Office

The Department of International Magical Cooperation sat in the furthest corner of the Ministry's main atrium— in the standard marble bureaucratic style, limestone and oppressive symmetry, but no door. Carved above the empty marble entryway read, patria est ubicumque est bene, or 'the homeland is wherever it is well'. The walls were lined with banners displaying the flags of every magical nation, and the air was thick with the scent of parchment and too many floo calls.

Carmen stood beside Javier in a waiting alcove just inside the door to the Portkey Registration Office, her arms folded, her expression as closed as ever. Galinthias and their belongings had been brought ahead by their house elves, likely in multiple trips.

She had hardly spoken since the platform, and Javier had taken that as victory.

"Your silence, to me," he said, idly checking his pocket watch, "is the sweetest surrender."

"I am merely counting down the seconds until your death." She replied hotly, "You should fear what I have Seen."

Javier chuckled, flicking the watch shut. "Forgive me, hermanita, I believe you'll change your tone after you've met our guest."

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, not willing to ease her rigid stance. "You said Dolohov would meet us in Greece."

"I said someone worthy of you would be joining us. Antonin, as it happens, is busy dealing with some new friends."

Carmen's stomach turned.

"I will not be passed from buyer to buyer like an auctioned sow."

"No, you will be protected in name and magic by someone with enough good breeding and influence to protect what you are."

She finally moved stepping into Javier's personal spacd, teeth bared. "If you have sold me to Rowle or Rosier or some decrepit—, I swear I–,"

The door to the Portkey Office opened, and Sirius Black walked in followed by his brother and finally his parents.

It had been only a day but Sirius looked different—cloaked in grey- wool, dark hair slicked back neatly like she had never seen on him, but wearing the familiar cocky curve to his mouth that made her skin prickle. That was his arrogant version of a mask. His eyes—they weren't teasing now. They were cautious. Curious. He hadn't seen her yet.

Carmen didn't move.

Javier's voice rang suddenly loud, startling Carmen who had been too close while she threatened her guardian.

"Lord and Lady Black. I am glad you are joining us. I trust your head of house notified you of the week's itinerary?"

Once their eyes met, Sirius' never left Carmen's.

"Yes, we are most gracious for the invitation." Orion replied stiffly.

"This is my darling sister, Miss Carmen Calderon." Javier took her hand and presented it to Orion Black first, who held it as she curtsied smoothly, bending only one knee slightly. Walburga and Carmen exchanged the same small curtsy.

"Are you surprised, sister?" Javier asked, goadingly.

"Pleasantly so, yes, brother.

Carmen turned on her heel and strode straight into the Portkey chamber without waiting, avoiding further conversation. She took her place in the center, shoulders stiff as she took hold of the brass kettle designated as their Portkey. The rest filed in, and they all took hold of the kettle, before the world yanked sideways.

THE RIVER HOUSE

They landed on a stone terrace overlooking the Achelous River.

Regulus stumbled, and straightened swiftly after a glare from his mother.

They stood on a limestone island in the center of the calm blue-green waters of the Achelous River.

The River House stood before them.

It was partly a thirteenth-century Byzantine palace, red and blue clay roof tiles above walls of spangled silver mosaic stars. The windows were framed in baby blue clay etched in tubes too small and fairway to see at their distance.

Moss bloomed along the lower terraces, and the entire façade smelled of pine, salt, and iron. From the landing terrace, Carmen could hear the hush of the Achelous River beyond the trees—its waters cold and slow-moving in the late season.

Every window and entryway was covered in iron gates that curled like vines, and every glass plane seemed to be a different color and rounded shape. The conservatory on the upper level was the only exception with amber glass instead comprising its entire domed ceiled and half of its walls. An observatory telescope poked out of the highest tower, and a short stout tower wore a small ring of windows along its roof line like a diadem.

Carmen stared up at the archway before them, at the Greek lettering carved in relief over the main path's gate: Οἶκος τῶν Ἀκαρνανίων — House of the Acarnanias.

The Black family said nothing as they took in the view, though Walburga's jaw tightened at the bright baby-blue mosaics around the doors. It clashed with her family's all-black wardrobe.

Sirius whistled softly, earning swift silencing glare from his mother.

"I did not realize your mother was an Acarnanias witch. Tell me Javier, are the tales true?" Orion seemed amused, perhaps expecting embarrassment from the last Calderons for false rumors of Sight.

Javier grinned coyly in reply and only gestured to the path before them. "Come, Lord Black, and find out for yourself. I welcome you all to the home of my mother's ancestors. There is no apparition so we must walk the path before us." Javier led the way, not waiting for more disparaging comments about rumors.

"Terribly inconvenient," Walburga muttered to her husband.

They climbed the path in silence only interrupted by the gentle braying of a pair of grown Hippocamp and their small foul. The beasts were close to the path but paid the passing witches and wizards no mind.

They walked past the main entry doors and climbed limestone steps on the outside of the palace to the upper loggia, entering through the conservatory's amber glass door instead.
Inside the Achelous River House conservatory was expectedly warm and humid.

Sunlight filtered through tall panes of amber glass, casting everything in an orange hue. An iron and mosaic table had been laid with precision: six chairs, six individual tea sets, and six sets of silver spoons that gleamed like scrying mirrors. Javier took his seat first, and Orion followed. Sirius and Regulus waited until their mother sat, and their cups began to fill themselves by the invisible magic of house elves. Carmen sat straight-backed in her seat, last.

Javier stirred his tea once, clockwise.

"You asked me, Lord Black, about the legends told about my mother's family. The legends are well known, because the history is well documented before the Statute." Javier nearly spat the last word as if it were something foul to him, to hide magic.

"This place, where my mother was raised, is the ancestral seat of the Acarnanias family. This is their oldest property dating back at least 4,000 years." Javier spoke casually, knowing nothing in England could compare to their storied Greek lineage.

"Every prophecy ever spoken by an Acarnanias witch is recorded here in the archives below us. How the magic works, I am not certain, but the record lives on. Every witch born to Acarnanias blood is gifted with Sight, regardless of the name she takes in Matrimony or birth. The Acarnanias Sight is blood bound magic. Every witch in my mother's line carried the gift of perfect Foresight. My mother, and–," Javier gestured to Carmen who kept her gaze lowered to her tea cup.

"My sister. Carmen is a gifted Seer," he said plainly, coyly smiling at his sister.

The silence that followed could have swallowed Carmen whole, and she would have been grateful. No one had ever known this secret outside of her family, and her family was smaller than it had ever been. Her mother had warned her, her father as well, and now Javier used it like a bargaining chip. Sirius knew now, after the prophecy she gave him in the depth of the restricted section.

Orion Black stared blankly at Javier, and Regulus shifted in his seat as if he hadn't heard correctly.

Walburga narrowed her eyes unconvinced, "And we should take you at your word?"

Javier didn't flinch. "These are not simply words, it is our blood. Our mother was born Caria Arcananias. Any daughter born to me and Carmen will carry this gift."

Orion's gaze sharpened. "Texts from the Acarnanias are extremely rare–, "

Javier nodded once. "They retreated from public life after 1692, when the Statute of Secrecy was signed and enforced by the Confederation."

Walburga scoffed. "Convenient timing for a bloodline to disappear. Many who couldn't prove their origins were lost at the time, perhaps not as powerful as they had claimed."

Carmen said nothing. Her teacup sat untouched in front of her, hands folded neatly in her lap as the conversation spun around her.

"With the mudbloods burning our people, many hid away. Or were killed," Orion spoke over his wife.

"The Acarnanias hid," Javier said. "They did not need to see the outcome of that era. They already knew what was to come. They knew the fate of their house when the first stones were laid for this palace. They Saw all that was to come, and they chose to wait for it."

Walburga looked between them, face a tight mask of disdain. "You spring this revelation over tea, and expect us to believe it isn't a ploy? To raise your sister's value, and lower her dowry?"

Sirius stood, pushing the table and jostling all the fine china and silverware, startling the other occupants and gaining their complete attention.

The sudden scrape of chair legs echoed through the conservatory like a crack of thunder.

"Carmen is a Seer," he said clearly. "I've seen her–, I have heard her prophesied. To me."

Regulus turned sharply toward him. "What?"

"Sister, you do not write to me often enough. Why am I only hearing of this now?" Javier spoke to Carmen chidingly, and it forced her to raise her eyes for the first time since they sat.

Sirius didn't sit down and continued speaking. "Back in September, in the Restricted Section of the library, we were working on an assigned runestone translation. As soon as she stepped into the rune circle–, the moment she did—her eyes went white. Her voice changed." Sirius had been starring down his parents as he spoke, but he glanced at Carmen before he continued.

"She gave a prophecy about the Black family–, about me." Sirius looked back to his mother who now seemed shocked. Walburga's mouth opened slightly, but no sound emerged.

"She couldnt remember it after," Sirius added, quieter now. "Didn't know what she said. But I remember every word."

Carmen closed her eyes briefly. A flicker of shame—or fear—passed across her face.

Walburga stared at her eldest son like she couldn't fathom his words.

Orion's voice was calm. Too calm. "That is why you've come back to us."

Sirius met his father's eyes. "Yes."

Walburga still hadn't moved.

Javier, seated as comfortably as if he'd just won a game of chess, set his spoon down gently on the saucer. "Now that the truth is spoken—"

He stood. Smiling faintly.

"—come. If we are to join families, I will show you what all future Black witches born to Carmen and Sirius's line may contribute to."

He didn't wait for agreement. Just turned and walked toward the far side of the conservatory, where a spiral stair of iron led downward, into the depths of the Achelous River House.

Carmen followed her brother closely, already knowing where they would go.

Sirius followed her without hesitation, and Regulus glanced at his parents before following his brother, too.

For a moment, Walburga did not move. Then, with a tightly contained sigh of frustration, she pushed her chair back roughly and followed. Orion brought up the rear, mostly to make sure Walburga didn't decide to leave.

Chapter 17 — The Calderon Prophecy Archive

Carmen hadn't spoken to him since they landed. Hadn't looked at him properly. Her shoulders were set too straight, her hands folded at her waist like a sculpture—like a proper heiress. Sirius could still see the tension at the corner of her mouth, the quiet refusal to speak.

The floor below the conservatory was much colder. They passed a great hall whose ceiling was an impossible height for the palace's footprint. The level below that would have been underground and the long stone corridors they passed were quiet. It was as they passed this level that Galinthias joined their procession down the iron stairs, padding silently beside her master's feet.

The stairs seemed to end abruptly in a tiny stoop ceiling cellar. Carmen stepped ahead of her brother, to place her hand against a bare limestone wall, revealing a plain but shining gold door.

"Here," Javier said simply, and punching the door open, and brushing past his sister who followed in silence.

The door hissed and groaned, revealing a narrow rough hewn stairwell spiraling down into darkness.

Orion raised a brow.

Walburga made a noise of disapproval, "I haven't seen a single ward, sigil, or rune–,"

"They are there. They're keyed to the Acarnanias bloodline," Javier replied. "No one can open this vault without our blood."

The moment Javier crossed the threshold, the stairwell lit—cold, blue light blooming along the walls, revealing ancient Greek sigils in a line of lumescent magic. The stairs descended further cutting directly into the bedrock, the walls damp with the river around them (or above them now).

The last door was burnt wood, and vanished as Javier approached.

The archive beyond was cavernous, a cathedral of prophecy.

An immense circular room, with hundreds of vaulted alcoves branching off like the spokes of a wheel. Shelves spiraled up the walls, all damp limestone, each housing delicate silver-blue spheres hovering under stasis magic. There could have been hundreds of thousands. Each glowed faintly, and pulsed like living heartbeats.

Sirius stared in awe. Walburga's mouth parted slightly, but she said nothing. Even Regulus and Orion seemed cowed.

"This," Javier said, his voice suddenly reverent, "is the Acarnanias Prophecy Archive. Every vision from our bloodline, recorded and preserved. From the First Witch of Achelous, Dodona, to my sister, Carmen."

He walked calmly to one alcove closest to them, and Carmen followed.

"This one–," Javier said, nodding toward a single stasis orb on a higher shelf.

"Was made by our mother. Her final vision." Carmen spoke finally. She had been waiting to hear this prophecy for a long time.

The sphere was no larger than a quince fruit, inside, swirls of mist swirled like petals in a breeze.

"Our mother spoke this prophecy on the night of her death," Javier said softly. "I found it here, in the archive after we buried her. I had hoped she had some final words of guidance for me, but it was for you." Javier looked to Carmen, softly for the first time in many years.

The world tilted slightly.

"It is the only prophecy I have ever seen here, to arrive with that," Javier pointed at a small gold plaque, reading 'Carmen Charikleia Acheolopoulos Arcananias Melis Calderon, for December 1976', "I've never dared touch it. It is only for you."

She didn't move.

Sirius stepped closer, to whisper to her. The low volume did nothing to dampen the noise in the otherwise silent echoing chamber, "You don't have to."

"Yes," Javier cut in sharply, "she does."

Carmen removed one glove, to reach out barehanded for her fate.

The moment her fingers touched the orb, the stasis field cracked like glass. The mist inside burst forward—not violently, but like it had been waiting to embrace her. White smoke spilled out, pale and thick, curling around her before it spoke.

A woman's voice filled the chamber—haunting and clear.

Carmen's mother.

"The river sings of the fire that will come, a night where death arrives in smoke and green light.
Your Foresight will save your life and line, and the line of another chosen for and by you.
You will bear children touched by Acarnanias Sight, and it will be their shield forevermore.
Trust your blood. Trust your Vision. Trust yourself. Trust your mother's greatest gift to you."

The voice faded. The smoke collapsed, falling like spider silk to the ground before vanishing.

No one spoke.

Carmen stood like a statue, bare hand still outstretched holding nothing.

Walburga broke the silence.

"Well," she said, almost gently. "Thank you for inviting us, Don Calderon."

Orion nodded. "It seems you've told us no lies."

Javier didn't gloat. For once, he was quiet.

Walburga turned to her husband. "There's no need to postpone. I will write to Gringotts and have them draw up the contracts tonight."

Sirius turned sharply. "What—?"

"Before we leave The River House," Walburga said, "your brother will sign for you, Orion will sign for Sirius, and the engagement will be sealed. We will wait until you graduate, of course."

"Yes," Javier said calmly. "It is already known. Our family's gift has made it so." Javier smiled genially.

Carmen avoided looking at any of them, eye on the ground as she replaced her glove and gripped her brother's arm.

Absolutely—continuing directly within Chapter 16, here's the requested new section set during the final days at the Achelous River House. This addition includes both Carmen's POV and Javier's POV, seamlessly folded into the chapter's rhythm and tone, with the deep emotional, political, and mythic undercurrents you've built so far.

The Last of The River House- Carmen

The hippocampi were hungriest at dusk, their sea-glass scales shimmered in the slanting gold of the setting sun. Their tails flicked lazily as they glided beneath the surface of the river's cold evening water. Carmen knelt at the edge of the lowest terrace at the river's edge, dumping a rusted bucket of algae into the water. With each bucket, the river stirred and churned as the hippocampi surfaced—long-necked, lion-eyed beasts that snapped the offerings from the water's surface with teeth like rough coral.

"Are they trained?" Sirius asked, and he slowed his approach from behind her.

"They are completely wild. My family has always cared for them. We feed them, heal their sick and injured–, and they remember that kindness."

A moment later, the terrace gate creaked with another. Regulus stepped into view, his posture guarded but curious. "Mother says these beasts are savage–."

"Do not take anyone at their word, Regulus. People are often wrong." Carmen said, brushing a damp curl from her cheek. "These 'beasts' are not meant to be owned. They eat plants," She grabbed a fistfull and algae and cucked it into the maw of breaching beast, who caught and dove back into the Acheolus' depths.

"-they raise their young, they sometimes eat the odd poacher." Carmen finished with a smirk that set both Black wizards on edge.

Silence fell for a moment, and the sound of river water and its splashing beasts took its place.

It was Sirius who broke it. "Reggie and I haven't really spoken in years. Not properly. Since I was sorted into Gryffindor."

Regulus glanced at him. "That wasn't my choice."

"No," Sirius said, not angry—just tired. "It wasn't mine, either. I haven't even gone back to our parents since third year. I left 'home'... and I don't think we ever said anything to each other again."

"I thought about writing that first summer you left–," Regulus said quietly. "But you didn't, so i didnt. I thought you were abandoning me, like Andromeda–."

"She didn't–, I hate that you think that." Sirius murmured. "I hate what they do to us."

Carmen said nothing, only feeding the hippocampi, but she didn't move away.

Regulus sat slowly, keeping his eyes on the nearest hippocampus. "I used to think all this—our blood, the traditions—meant something. That it made us powerful. Important."

"For the family heads, yes. For us children, it makes us easy to control." Carmen said.

"It… frightened me. Our cousin, Andromeda, left the family before my third year at Hogwarts. She married a muggleborn and ran away after graduating. The things our parents and her parents said, what they threatened to do–, to Andromeda, and her husband, and their child… I know they are capable of everything they threatened.," Sirius added.

Regulus nodded. "I know. I thought you were mad for running. They said you were disowned like her, and burned you off the tapestry–,"

"Grandfather wrote to me while I was staying with the Potters that summer. He said nothing my parents said would matter. If I found the right witch–,"

They were quiet for a long while.

It was Regulus who finally whispered, "You're both different from the rest of them."

"Different isn't the right word." Carmen replied. "We are products of our upbringing, ready for what will come, in ways our elders cannot. Their time has passed, and ours will be what we make it. Have hope, boys." Carmen wadded into the water, letting her dress soak through and float around her.

One of the hippocampi rose from the water very near to Carmen, just far enough to expose the white webbing under its jaw for Carmen to scratch. The beast starred at her and Carmen stared back until it sank beneath the dark waters again.

Sirius looked at her. "What did you see that gives you hope?"

Carmen didn't answer immediately, she pulled her dress close to her and rang the water out as she waded back to the tiled terrace steps.

"A war is coming. A feigned blood war, but the same as any other grab for undue power."

"Are you afraid?" Regulus asked.

"No." Carmen said. "Our generation is capable of building something good. Even if it's built on ashes and bones."

The sun finally dipped completely behind the hillside, and the hippocampi vanished beneath the surface with the sun.

Sirius reached for her hand without thinking, and she let him.

The Last of The River House-Javier

From the upper terrace, Javier watched them all with a glass of blood-red elf wine in hand.

Beside him, Orion Black stood with arms crossed. Walburga leaned slightly toward the balustrade, examining the trio at the river's edge as though assessing livestock.

"She is stubborn?" Walburga asked without looking back at the wizards in her company.

"She is a witch," Javier replied.

Walburga arched her brow, glancing sideways at her husband.

"We have failed to curb Sirius' obstinance–," Orion admitted, sliding into the seat beside Javier.

"Through no fault of your own, I am sure. My sister–," Javier paused to take a drink instead of answering.
"I see her strength. She is a well bred witch." Walburga's tone was snide, but her expression was hidden from them, and she didn't move from her vantage point of the children.

Javier sipped his wine and watched Sirius carefully. "So is your son. Boisterous, but loyal. He will protect her. That is all i ask"

"You think they are suited for each other? Beyond purity?," Walburga asked, finally turning to watch the older wizards.

"I know they will outlive us all," Javier answered, raising his glass in mock toast.

There was silence for a beat.

"She is brilliant by all accounts," Orion said. "Quidditch, Runes, and especially her etiquette. I have yet to witness her obstinance."

"And your son?" Javier asked, not bothering to hide his smirk.

"His Head of House, Minerva Mcgonnagal says he is a transfiguration prodigy, and gifted on a broom," Orion said, then added, lips twitching, "And obstinate beyond all reason."

Javier poured a second glass of wine for Orion, by hand.

"Well," Walburga said, moving to join them at the table, "At least they'll match."

They sat in silence, just the sound of the river below, and the wind stirring the trees on the hillside. Below, Carmen held Sirius' hand, and Regulus smiled softly, knowing his brother would remain in his life unlike his cousin.

"Her dowry must include inheritance for her children. Access to both Spanish and Greek vaults of our choosing," Walburga said suddenly.

"Of my choosing," Javier chuckled pouring wine for Walburga as well.

Orion raised his glass, "Deal."

Javier tapped his goblet against Orion's and then Walburga's.

"To an assured future," he said.

Chapter 18 – Betrothal Sealed

Diagon Alley in winter was all grey smoke and golden gaslight, the wizarding shopping district quiet under the snow, like a sleeping beast in these small early morning hours. Storefront gleamed in patches through the cold: warm hearthfire from apothecary windows, enchanted icicles dangling from the upper eaves of the mostly empty Florian Fortesques Ice Cream shop, and smoke curling lazily from the brick chimney of the Leaky.

The Blacks and Calderons emerged into the empty alley, flanked by Javier and Orion like guardian matagots. Walburga walked ahead of the group, her winter robes as black as all her other, lined with moke fur and clasped at the throat with an obsidian family crest. Carmen kept pace beside her, her own robes emerald with detailed gold embroidery at the hem, cuffs, and collar. An Acarnanias brooch visible over her heart, though no one would recognize it.

It was the second half of winter break, and they had left the Achelous River House in good spirits.

Now they were in London, staying together at Grimmauld place for the week, and the English air here was cold in a bone chilling way.

"Fitting," Javier mused to Orion and the boys walking between them, "that we mark the new year with new family."

Walburga inclined her head faintly, allowing herself the smallest smile as she overheard.

They entered Gringotts through its massive bronze doors without hesitation. The goblin at the front desk gave them a cursory nod—the Blacks were known, of course, and the Calderons had gold enough to buy respect in any country. A goblin with a heavy brow escorted them down a private hall, past the public vault lifts, into a quieter chamber lined in grey slate.

"You will have access to the viewing chamber for one hour." the goblin muttered, bowing slightly to Orion, Javier, and Walburga.

Javier nodded. "We won't need more than twenty minutes."

Carmen's hand twitched for her absent wand, inside her cloak.

The chamber was a circle, ringed in iron sconces, with rough hewn stone walls and an ornate tiled floor. In the center stood two rune-forged pedestals, each already gleaming with velvet pillows. Upon them, a dozen rings hovered in stasis—half from the Black vault, half from the Calderon, awaiting to be chosen by the newly engaged couple.

"Are there any further contributions, Miss Calderon?" the goblin asked, speaking to her directly.

She stepped forward silently, reaching into her cloak to withdraw a small crimson pouch. She upended it, revealing a another ring that tumbled into the same levitation magic as the other on her Calderon pedestal. It was a thick band of Ottoman gold, etched with delicate Byzantine sigils, each groove set with tiny, blood-bright rubies. At its center, a larger ruby etched with the rune of prophecy—Καθαρὰ ὄψις—True Vision. The signet seal of the Acarnanias, which had belonged to her mother's elder brother before his death, her uncle Nikandros Arcananias, the last of his name.

"The last heirloom of the Acarnanias line," Javier murmured, eyes glittering. "A very generous contribution. I'm jealous"

"Nikandros said it was mine to give," Carmen said, voice sharp enough to bite. "It was never yours." Carmen didn't see her brother's pout or Walburga's smirk.

Before the goblin could ask the same of the Black family, the pillow on their pedestal jostled. One of the Black rings responded to Carmen's proximity—a gold band with diamond filigree that formed runes. Carmen blinked.

Orion stepped forward, examining it with interest. "That last belonged to Melania Macmillan, Cygnus's grandmother. She was a master duellist, back when competitions were to the death, so a truly impressive witch."

Sirius moved beside his family's pedestal and raised a brow at Carmen.

Carmen stared at the ring.

Sirius grinned. "Hundreds of charms probably. Hopefully protective."

"It's powerful."

"So are you," he corrected. "The only one that it's reacted to in this century."

She glanced at him sideways, asking a deeper question than she had meant to.

"Would you have chosen this?" her question came as whisper.

"If i were a smarter wizard, probably." he answered softly. "I'm glad fate knows when to intervene to save my sorry hide."

Carmen looked at him then, truly looked at him, and didn't say a word.

She just stepped forward with her family ring, and Sirius took his family's. They met between the pedestal in the center of the room, to exchange rings. Sirius place the gold ring on her finger, and it shone in blinding white light before fading to its normal spectacular shimmer.

Carmen slid the signet ring on his hand and a blood-red glow filled the room. For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then the goblin nodded. "Accepted by magic. Bound without curse."

"No curses? Theres usually at least one or two, usually to prevent abuse or adultery–," Javier asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"None," the goblin confirmed. "Though there are blood-magic protections on the Acarnanias piece."

"Protections?" Walburga asked coolly.

The goblin hesitated. "Should the bearer harm the Seer's line… the ring will remove their magic to protect the line."

Carmen smirked, and Sirius held up the ring to the torch light, rubies flashing.

"I like it. Violent little thing." Sirius said with a wink to Carmen.

They exited the chamber in silence, the goblin staying behind to record the engagement.

When they emerged into the mid-morning, sun-dappled, snow-laced streets of Diagon Alley, the crowds were beginning to fill the cobbled lanes. No one dared question why the powerful purebloods had just exited Gringotts with two rings glowing on their younger member's fingers.

As they crossed toward the Leaky to leave, Lucius Malfoy and his father Abraxas emerged from the shadow of Knockturn Alley.

"Orion," Abraxas said with a bow. "Don Calderon."

"Abraxas," Orion replied with cool politeness. "And young Lucius."

Lucius glanced down—at Carmen's hand, then at Sirius's.

"Well," he said with a perfectly neutral smirk. "Congratulations are in order."

Javier smiled sharply. "Indeed."

"Bellatrix and Narcissa will be delighted to welcome such refined witch into the family," Lucius added, tone oily. "Bella's wedding to Rodolphus is this summer, of course. It is good to see the House of Black moving on from… previous engagements."

Walburga didn't flinch, quickly replying, "Bellatrix's loyalties are beyond question, and I am sure you are glad Narcissa's reputation is quite unassailable."

Lucius turned his gaze on Carmen, eyes trailing from her dark braid to the golden ring. "It is good to see you again, Sirius, and your bride-to-be seems… appropriately formidable."

"She is." Sirius said, voice flat and final.

Abraxas gave a stiff nod to the group and friendly nod to Orion, "Until the summer, then?"

They disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived, folding back into the growing crowds.

Walburga's voice cut through the tension like cold iron. "Let the Malfoys posture. The Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will now birth Seers."

No one spoke as they returned to Grimmauld.

The engagement was sealed, and the world would know soon enough.

Chapter 19 — The Return to Silver and Gold

Platform 9 streamed with noise, the winter sun glinting off the golden lettering of the scarlet train. For the Sacred Twenty-Eight, it was as much a stage as a station—and today, the performance was especially well-attended.

The Black family was already present, sharp in obsidian velvet and silver trim. Orion's posture was stiff as ever, but Walburga's smile was concerningly new. Walking toward them through the thin veil of steam, dressed in dark crimson and gold, came Don Javier Calderon.

"Javier," Orion greeted smoothly, extending a gloved hand. "It is good to see you."

Javier's smile was friendly and familiar, as he moved to kiss Walburga's hand. "Likewise, Orion. Walburgas you are as radiant as ever."

Walburga's chin dipped. "Speaking of radiance, where is your sister?"

"I have no need to escort my sister when she is already safe in your sons' care." Javier's tone was not quiet.

All around them, other pureblood families turned discreetly to watch. Greengrass, Selwyn, Rosier, and even a few wary plain clothed Ministry Aurors loitering nearby. The whispers had already started— Don Javier Calderon, in public, speaking to the Black family with clear familiarity. That alone was enough to raise eyebrows. The fact that his familiarity was returned was unheard of.

Carmen emerged from the brick arch with Regulus and Sirius flanking her, her cloak the dark green of House Slytherin and plain grey gloves. Galinthias wound around her boots before darting off toward the train.

The sight of her between the reconciled Black sons made several nearby freeze mid-step.

Carmen didn't falter, offering a small nod to her brother and her future in-laws, before turning toward the train without comment. Together, Regulus and Sirius hoisted her trunk, and then their own into the luggage car. While Carmen waited, she removed her gloves casually, revealing her ring.

The rings were noticeable. Not too flashy, but impossible to mistake.

On her left, the ring Sirius had given her in Gringotts— gold and diamond filigree in a french style, worn at the base of her fourth finger.

Sirius caught her hand for only a moment—under the pretense of steadying her as she climbed the train step. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. A silent question. Her eyes met his. She answered only with the faintest squeeze.

The whispers followed them into the corridor.

"Did you see—?" "That can't be—" "Black and Calderon?" "Impossible—"

They didn't stop. Not until they found an empty compartment near the back of the train and locked the door with five different enchantments.

Regulus collapsed into a seat beside the window and covered his face with his hands.

"Bloody hell."

Carmen sat across from him, legs crossed tightly, arms folded. Her back didn't touch the seat, like she was bracing for impact.

Sirius sat beside her, dropped his head against the cool metal of the train wall, and muttered, "Let the storm begin."

There was a moment of silence, and then Sirius stood abruptly.

"I should… prep the others. Before James gets any ideas."

Carmen nodded once, not looking at him. "Lupin is your only shot at reason."

"True."

Sirius left in a blur of grey wool and heavy boots, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake it.

Regulus pulled his hands down, revealing wide eyes and a sickly pallor.

"I'm dead," he whispered. "I'm going to be hexed in my sleep."

"You're not the one wearing a ring," Carmen replied coolly.

"Don't remind me," he groaned. "Do you know what they'll say about me?"

"They'll say you sat next to me and didn't combust."

He groaned again.

A long silence followed. The train whistled as it began to move, pulling them away from the smoke and stone and into the countryside.

Regulus finally sat up and rubbed his face. "Alright," he muttered, reaching for his wand. "If we're going to be murdered in our sleep, we may as well go down fighting."

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "Is that meant to be encouraging?"

"That's my version of saying: teach me how to hex the living shite out of Rosier before he corners me alone."

She smiled faintly. "Depulso or Confringo?"

Regulus perked up. "Both?"

She stood, flicked her wand to clear space, and moved into a dueling stance. "Wand up. Chin high."

He obeyed immediately, eyes glinting with the first hint of genuine enthusiasm she'd seen from him in weeks.

"Show me your worst," he said.

Carmen's smile sharpened. "I intend to."

The train carried them into a storm of whispers that would only grow louder and more antagonistic, but inside their compartment—lit only by small confringos and filled with the echo of the knockback jinx—Carmen Calderon was teaching the younger Black how to protect himself from whatever came next.

CHAPTER 20: Books, Brothers, and Rings

The scratch of quills was the only sound in the Library.

Carmen turned another page, and across the table, Sirius exhaled through his nose, frustrated. His Transfiguration notes looked like they'd been through a duel.

Their table was tucked into the far corner with a view of the Quidditch pitch, it had become a new kind of sanctuary. Sirius on one side, Regulus on the other, and Carmen between them. It was easy to pretend this arrangement was purely academic, and not a defensive formation.

Everyone in the castle had seen the rings by now.

Carmen Calderon. Sirius Black. Bound by contract, circumstance, and prophecy known only to their families.

Regulus was the only one who didn't seem bothered, he passed Carmen a book without looking at her.

"Lestrange was asking if you killed someone in Sardinia, and thats you had to come to England. To escape the law." he said flatly.

"I didn't," she replied, taking the book. "Unfortunately."

"You might want to let that rumor live," Sirius said, half-distracted, quill tapping against the side of his inkpot. "It's doing wonders for your reputation."

Carmen didn't smile. She hadn't smiled much since they'd left Greece. Not since the archive. Not since her mother's last prophecy had been spoken aloud in front of them all like a curse.

She reached for the second volume of Bindings & Bloodlines and began annotating the margins.

Behind her, footsteps. Two sets. Familiar. Predictable.

"Study session or secret plot?" James Potter's voice cut through the silence like a blade honed on smugness. "Or is that the same thing these days?"

Remus followed close behind, juggling a pile of books.

Remus dropped into an empty chair at the desk next to them, while James leaned against the shelves instead, arms crossed and eyes flicking between Carmen and Sirius. "So this is what it looks like. The end of prejudice. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin studying together and no one's been hexed yet."

"Give it time," Regulus muttered.

"Oh, I'm counting the seconds," Carmen replied in a bored tone, finally meeting James's gaze.

"Your parents are a Gryffindor and Slytherin as well, you bint." Sirius tried to smack James' arse with a book.

James blinked owlishly, playing dumb. "Huh?"

Regulus stared at the ink on his page like it had offended him. Remus was reading quietly, undisturbed by his ridiculous friends. James gave a long, theatrical sigh.

"Well," he said, pushing off the shelf, "As long as you dont go throwing any Quidditch matched for your darling love, Sirius–,"

Sirius smirked. "But we're on the same team, Jamie." Sirius said with a wink to his retreating friend.

Chapter 21: Scores June, 1977

The final days of term came not with a whimper, but with a barrage of tests, smudged ink, and anxiety. OWL & NEWT season painted Hogwarts in shades of ink-stained fingers, sleepless study groups, and Carmen's increasingly passive-aggressive "Shut up, Black" as Sirius hummed while reviewing Transfiguration theory with her, Regulus, James Potter, and Remus Lupin at the long back table they had claimed in the Library.

Slughorn had taken to watching them with unabashed glee, muttering to himself about "new collectables."

Each 5th year in their group sat for ten examinations. Eleven for Carmen after the advanced Ancient Runes practical Slughorn finagled her into. She passed all of them. Ten "Outstanding" marks, and one EE in Divination because she told the instructor reading tea leaves was like trying to scry from a puddle of troll piss. Sirius, was actually glad when his letter arrived: Nine Os. One EE. Charms. A quiet grumble followed—"Flitwick said I was too flamboyant with my wand."

"You are," Carmen said without looking up. "Your swish is arrogant."

"You like my wand," he countered, eyes gleaming.

Regulus choked on his tea.

The end of term brought farewells and train rides divided by house colors and subtle glances.

Bellatrix's Wedding- July 1977, Lestrange Estate, Wiltshire

The affair was as awful as expected.

Too many emerald table runners embroidered with serpents. Carmen's dress was bronze lace and alchemically altered gold embroidery. She wore her hair down, her curls loose and bouncing all the way down to her waist.

Sirius wore a forest green cravat and black dress robes tailored to perfection. The only chink in his performance had been when he had deliberately stomped on Rosier's foot for calling Lilly Evans an 'Upstart Mudblood'. Orion didn't even blink at the exchange. Walburga tried to brush it off for Carmen's sake, calling it passion. Carmen assuage her in-laws embarrassment by calling it predictable.

Sirius had offered his hand just as the band shifted into a slower waltz, and she took it without hesitation. They moved like they'd practiced together—which, of course, they hadn't. All their training before each other had led to these moments, where they repurposed their childhood traumas and lessons into beautiful moments of closeness with each other.

"I hate weddings," Sirius murmured as his fingers curled possessively at her waist, he was watching the room around them over her shoulder.

"You hate the bride more," she replied sweetly.

They moved with precision, laughter in their eyes, while everyone watched. Which, of course, had been the point.

As the music ended, Sirius kissed the back of her hand instead of her lips like he wanted.

Later, beneath the willows…

Carmen had wandered too far in her elf wine haze, watching the stars above her instead of her immediate surroundings.

The garden's enchantments shifted at twilight, and sudden lanterns cast elongated shadows. She sensed the presence behind her just before a soft accented voice broke the stillness.

"Carmen.".

She turned slowly, spine straightening as she faced him. Antonin Dolohov looked sharp, the silver embroidery at his cuffs catching the moonlight.

"You've grown," he said quietly. "Impressive OWL results, and impressive partner on the dance floor. Many are surprised to see your betrothed so well behaved."

She didn't answer. Her hand ghosted near her wand.

"You were never well behaved either, though," he added. "So i wonder how you managed to sway him. It catn have been by your example."

He stepped to close, "Perhaps he is simply enamored by your beauty." Dolohov reached out a hand to push a curl behind her ear, and Carmen withheld all reaction.

"Or enraptured by your tight–," His grip was suddenly tight on the hair at the base of head, forcing her to bare her neck to him before–,

"Enough!"

The voice cut like tempered steel.

Orion Black emerged from the shadows, wand drawn, expression unreadable. He said nothing more to Dolohov—just held his gaze until the other man released his hold and stepped back, smiled tightly, and disappeared with a bow.

Orion turned to Carmen.

"You're lucky," he said quietly. "That I know what kind of man he is."

"Tell my brother, then. He never believed me. I was almost a Dolohov, too." Caren rubbed at the sore spot where her hair had been pulled.
"I don't need rescuing." She grumbled petulantly.

"No," Orion agreed. "But your virtue is the most valuable currency you have after your name and blood. I am protecting our investment, not your pride."

He started to turn away but paused.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for whatever you've done or said to bring Sirius back to us. He listens to you. That is rare."

Perfect. Based on your outline and the tone/style established in the finalized chapters (particularly the buildup of tension between Carmen and Sirius in chapters like Restricted - Rumors, The Aftermath of Fire and Bone, and Astronomy, Detention & Things Left Unsaid), here is the start of Chapter 22:

Chapter 22: A Sky Like No Other

The pitch was louder than usual, louder than any of the matches leading up to this one.

Slytherin versus Gryffindor always brought out the worst in people, and the harsh December wind made the crowd sound like it was screaming.

Carmen's fingers flexed around her broom as she rose through the sky, heart steady. Not from lack of adrenaline, but from discipline. She didn't look for Sirius. The second she did, the snitch would somehow know, and it would vanish like smoke.

Below her, a blur of red and gold collided with green. Bludgers rocketed across the sky. James Potter's voice carried above the wind—he shouted for a pass, caught it, ducked a bat swing from Bletchley, and bolted downfield with Sirius close behind, leaning low over his broom. Carmen didn't let her eyes wander.

Let them fight it out. She had one job.

The snitch had appeared once already—hovering just above the Ravenclaw stands before crossing the pitch like a skimming stone—but Montague had blocked her trajectory, whether by accident or design, and she hadn't seen it since.

But she could feel it's hum, and knew it was close.

There.

Her broom turned sharply, the wind biting at her cheeks as she dove, shoulder grazing the wake of a Gryffindor bludger that missed her. The crowd was roaring again, some shouting her name and others booing. Carmen didn't care. She flattened against her broom, giving into the dive, and the snitch shimmered golden beneath her.

Fifty feet. Thirty.

A flash of red blurred across her periphery. The Gryffindor seeker was right on her cloak tails.

Ten feet.

She reached.

Her fingers closed around the cold metal, wings fluttering against her knuckles.

The whistle blew.

The stands exploded.

Slytherin students screamed, emerald flags waving. Captain Bletchley shouted something triumphant and foul. Carmen circled once for show, then dipped down.

Across the pitch, she caught a flash of dark hair and red robes. Sirius was still in the air, circling back to where James hovered, shaking his head with his back to her. Carmen lifted her hand once—nothing dramatic, just a brief wave.

Only James saw and gave her two thumbs down, while sticking out his tongue.

Both teams descended, and Gryffindor stalked off in tight, quiet lines. Slytherin was noisy—slapping backs, jostling each other, shouting so loud the locker room echoed long after they disappeared back to their dorms.

Carmen said little. She let the victory wash over her, and lingered in the empty steaming shower. She took her time unbraider and washing her hair. Ensuring it had not a single tangle, so she could go straight to sleep. As she left the locker room, about to tuck her still wet hair into her cloak for the walk back to the castle, she didn't expect anyone.

Leaning against the wooden wall outside the lockers, arms crossed, Sirius's hair was still damp as well, slicked back like his parents made home ear. A bruise bloomed beneath one eye—probably another direct contact hitr—but he didn't look angry. Just patiently waiting.

"I was worried you might try to slip out the back," he said quietly.

Carmen raised an eyebrow. "I wouldnt. Its a longer walk. Im glad ou waited for me."

He shrugged like it was nothing, but his voice was rough. "I wanted to congratulate you."

She stepped toward him, and he met her halfway.

The embrace was casual at first—warm, tired from the exhausting match. His arms around her shoulders, hers around his waist, but they didn't pull back.

When they finally did part, it was slow and reluctant, and her hands lovely slid down his ribs to rest at the waistband of his trouser. His shirt had ridden up and she accidentally touched skin, she glanced up sharply to meet his gaze and his fingers brushed her jaw.

They kissed.

No preamble. No witty words. Just—

Lips and tongue. Damp hair, cold fingers slipping under cotton, to feel hot skin.

His back hit the wall with a thud, and Carmen was pressed against him, hungry for something she didnt know, hand fisting in the bottom half of his shirt as her finger tips scratched at the soft skin of his belly. Sirius groaned low in his throat—half desperate, half laughing—and tugged her closer.

Her hands grew softer and traced the edge of his ribs. His fingers slid down her waist to her hip.

Nothing else mattered.

Not the pitch. Not the war. Not the rumors. Not the friendly academic rivalry that had defined them for months.

His thumb traced a line down from her belly bottom under her robe, just close enough to make her heart stutter. She kissed him harder for it, gasping when his mouth dropped to her neck.

Then—a sound above them. Footsteps. Maybe Madam Hooch clearing the stands of stragglers.

Carmen pulled back, but Sirius pulled her close again to rest his forehead rested against hers, catching his breath.

She breathed against his lips. "Not yet."

"You always run. You're lucky you look great from behind." he murmured.

They stood there, flushed, quiet. One last brush of lips, soft now.

Then she stepped back, and they parted back to their separate dorms.

CHAPTER 23 - Evergreen

They had kissed before. More than once now.

In the locker rooms, in hidden passageways and alcoves, but this was different.

This wasn't a short lived kissing session.

Sirius held her hand as he led her up to Gryffindor Tower after curfew on Christmas Eve. They were silent, careful, their breath curling in the cold air of winter corridors. Most students had gone home for the holidays. The ones who remained were tucked away—nursing hangovers or sleeping off sweet induced comas.

When the Fat Lady's portrait swung open, she raised a single painted brow. Carmen met her gaze without flinching. Her hand didn't leave Sirius's.

The common room was empty. A few dying embers, a garland slipping from the mantel. The castle was asleep.

His dormitory door closed with a click.

Sirius stood behind her, barely breathing. "You don't have to—"

"Shut up," she said.

And then she kissed him.

Hard.

Teeth and tongue and a lifetime of swallowed emotions. She pushed him backward until his knees hit his bedframe and he dropped onto it, looking up at her like she was something holy.

"You've drive me mad," he murmured, voice already rough. "You and your cursed clever mouth."

Carmen kneeled between his knees, fingers tugging loose his Gryffindor tie. "Then find something better from my clever mouth to do, husband."

He did.

Hands greedy, everywhere—palming her arse, dragging her hips forward, unbuttoning her robes with a practiced flick. Her tie joined his on the floor. His jumper landed by the foot of the bed. Her skirt slipped down her thighs.

They didn't stop, didn't speak, because they already understood each other perfectly.

His fingers finally pulled down her knickers, and he groaned when he found her wet.

"Fuck—already?"

She kissed his neck, biting just beneath his ear. "I've been ready since the first Astronomy class."

He laid her back, climbed over her slowly—hands framing her face, kissing her like she might vanish.

Hips lips on her throat, on her breasts, and he sucked a nipple into his mouth making her arch and gasp.

His hand found her again. Rubbing slow, maddening circles around her clit. Two fingers slid inside, curling upward, and she moaned his name lewdly.

"Sirius—don't stop—oh fuck—"

"You sound so pretty like this," he whispered into her skin. "Fucking perfect."

He kissed down her stomach, dragged her knickers all the way off, and then knelt at the edge of the bed.

"Let me taste you."

She was already trembling.

His mouth was hot, wicked. Tongue slow, then fast. Fingers inside her, again, curling just right. She came in seconds, thighs shaking, one hand fisted in his hair and the other clawing the sheets.

But he didn't stop, until she unraveled twice more and begged for reprieve.

When he kissed her again, she tasted herself on his tongue. It made her whine.

Then it was her turn.

She flipped him onto his back, straddling him. He was rock-hard beneath his trousers, and she ground down, watching his jaw tighten.

She made a show of undoing his belt. Pushed trousers and pants down together, freed him with one slow stroke.

He was thick. Gorgeous. She licked her palm, wrapped her fingers around him, and stroked slowly, deliberately.

"You, witch," Sirius groaned.

She kissed the tip. Just once. Then slid her mouth down his cock until he hit the back of her throat.

He swore. Loud.

His hands tangled in her hair, not guiding, just holding on.

She kept going until his hips twitched. Until he warned her—"I'm close—Carmen, if you don't stop—"

So she did.

And climbed back up.

"Are you—?" he asked. Still breathless. Still on the edge of unraveling.

"I'm sure."

She kissed him once more, and lined herself up.

He held her hips as she sank down.

They both swore at the same time.

Hot. Tight. Full.

She rocked her hips slowly at first, both of them overwhelmed, eyes locked.

"You feel—fuck," Sirius moaned. "You feel like heaven."

"You feel like–, the best kind of torture," she whined, voice shaking.

It didn't stay slow.

They found a rhythm—hands on hips, bodies slamming together in desperate, perfect unison. Carmen rode him like she owned him.

He came first, shouting her name into her shoulder as he spilled inside her.

She followed a second later, clenched around him, vision white-hot.

They collapsed together, tangled in sweat and blankets and late-winter moonlight. Neither of them spoke for a long while.

Eventually, Sirius rolled over and looked at her.

"Still cold?"

Carmen, eyes half-lidded, smirked. "No. You're a very good heater."

He laughed, kissed her shoulder, and pulled her closer.

Outside the window, snow fell in slow, silent flakes.

Inside, they slept curled together—finally, finally, at peace.