Chapter 21: The Mirror of Erised

Kael moved through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts with practiced silence, his footsteps cushioned by a subtle Silencing Charm he had modified to affect only the immediate area beneath his feet. The castle at night possessed a different kind of magic—ancient and contemplative—that resonated with something deep within him. The portraits dozed in their frames, occasionally stirring as he passed, but Kael's magical signature had become familiar enough that they merely shifted and continued their painted slumber.

Tonight, however, he wasn't simply exploring. His enhanced magical perception, a gift from his most recent System update, had detected an unusual resonance echoing through the stone walls—a resonance that had intensified shortly after he'd glimpsed Harry Potter receiving a package wrapped in silvery paper at breakfast.

Kael had recognized it immediately as an invisibility cloak—and not just any cloak, but one of extraordinary quality. The magical signature it emitted was unlike anything he had encountered in his extensive studies. Most invisibility cloaks showed deterioration after a few years, their enchantments fading like fabric exposed too long to harsh sunlight. But this one... this one sang with power that felt ancient and undimmed.

More intriguing still was the fact that Dumbledore had clearly been the sender. The headmaster's magical signature was distinctive—a complex melody of brilliant innovation tempered by centuries of accumulated wisdom. Kael had been watching Harry with increasing interest since Halloween, observing the young Gryffindor's unwitting journey toward whatever destiny Dumbledore was gradually preparing him for.

Tonight, that observation had taken on a more active dimension. Kael had felt Harry's magical signature moving through the castle under the cloak's concealment, drawn toward something that pulsed with powerful enchantment on the fourth floor. While maintaining a respectful distance, Kael had followed, curious about what magical artifact could emit such a distinctive resonance.

Now, as Harry's signature retreated back toward Gryffindor Tower, Kael stepped forward to investigate the room that had captured the Boy Who Lived's attention for nearly an hour. The door stood slightly ajar, an invitation Kael couldn't resist. With a gentle push, he entered a disused classroom, dust motes dancing in the moonlight streaming through tall windows.

The room appeared empty at first glance, desks and chairs pushed against the walls to create a central space dominated by something massive draped in shadows. As Kael moved closer, the magical resonance intensified until it hummed against his skin like static electricity.

Before him stood an ornate mirror, taller than two men, with a gilded frame carved in an archaic style that spoke of magic's older, wilder days. Clawed feet supported its impressive weight, and inscribed along the top in flowing script were words that Kael immediately recognized as a simple backward inscription: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," Kael translated aloud, his voice barely disturbing the room's hushed atmosphere.

The Mirror of Erised. He had read about it, of course—an ancient magical artifact that could show the deepest, most desperate desires of one's heart. Dumbledore's gambit became clearer; what better way to test Harry Potter's character than to expose him to something that revealed his innermost yearnings?

Kael approached with measured steps, his naturally scientific mind already analyzing the mirror's construction even as he respected its power. Unlike many who might rush forward to gaze upon their heart's desire, he paused at the edge of what he estimated to be the mirror's effective range, stretching out with his magical senses to better understand the enchantments at work.

The mirror operated on principles similar to Legilimency, but infinitely more sophisticated. Rather than merely penetrating surface thoughts, it reached into the very core of a person's essence, excavating desires so fundamental that the viewer might not even be consciously aware of them. More impressively, it then translated those desires into visual representations with perfect fidelity, tailored precisely to the viewer's personal context.

After several minutes of careful analysis, Kael stepped forward into the mirror's full influence, curious despite himself about what he might see. His own reflection appeared first—tall for his age, with tousled dark hair and those distinctive luminescent blue eyes that occasionally flickered with energy when he channeled his more powerful magic. The lightning-shaped birthmarks on his arms glowed faintly in the dim light, a physical manifestation of the Stormbane legacy that marked him as different from his peers.

Then the mirror's enchantment took hold.

Kael's reflection remained, but the scene around him transformed dramatically. He stood in a vast circular chamber with walls lined by ancient texts, scrolls, and artifacts, many bearing symbols and scripts so archaic that even Kael, with his extensive education, couldn't immediately identify them. Floating in the chamber's center was what appeared to be pure magical energy crystallized into visible form—raw creation itself, pulsing with possibilities.

His reflection was no longer alone. Standing beside him were figures both familiar and legendary: Merlin, with his ancient, knowing eyes; Rowena Ravenclaw, whose brilliant mind had crafted spells still used a millennium later; and his own ancestors—Renz, Matthew, and Vaughn Stormbane—each radiating the distinctive power that had made them legends in their own right.

But they weren't standing as mentors or teachers. They stood as equals, engaged in collaborative work that seemed to reshape the very foundations of magical understanding. Together, they manipulated complex magical formulae that appeared as three-dimensional constructs in the air between them, occasionally nodding with approval at contributions Kael's reflection made.

At his reflected self's feet lay an open book titled Fundamental Principles of Magical Creation: The Stormbane Codex. His parents, Azrael and Selena, watched from nearby with expressions of serene pride, not for his power or achievements, but for the wisdom with which he wielded his gifts.

Kael's breath caught slightly as he recognized what he was seeing. Not fame, not unrivaled power, not even acknowledgment of his prodigious abilities. His deepest desire was to understand magic at its most fundamental level—to unlock secrets that would transform magical theory itself, alongside those whose brilliance he admired most. To create knowledge that would endure long after he was gone.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" came a gentle voice from behind him. "The mirror gives neither knowledge nor truth, yet it reveals more about us than perhaps any other magical object ever created."

Kael didn't startle; he had sensed Dumbledore's approach several moments earlier, the headmaster's distinctive magical signature impossible to mistake. He turned with calm respect to face the ancient wizard, whose half-moon spectacles gleamed in the moonlight.

"Good evening, Professor," Kael said. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you here."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he stepped forward to stand beside Kael. "Just as I am not surprised to find you, Mr. Stormbane. Few students possess both the perception to detect the mirror's presence and the restraint to approach it analytically before succumbing to its allure."

Kael inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Harry Potter was here earlier." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed, seeming unsurprised by Kael's knowledge. "Though I suspect what he saw was quite different from what appears before you now."

"Family," Kael said with quiet certainty. "He would see the family he never had the chance to know."

Dumbledore's expression softened. "Indeed. Our desires often reflect what we feel is missing from our lives." He studied Kael with renewed interest. "I wonder what a young man who has achieved so much so early might see when looking into Erised's depths?"

Rather than answering directly, Kael gazed thoughtfully at the mirror. "It's an elegant enchantment—far more sophisticated than most artifacts of its apparent age. The runic structures must be layered with extraordinary precision to achieve such perfect psychoresonance with each viewer."

Dumbledore's smile deepened. "Most who encounter the Mirror speak only of what they see. You immediately analyze how it works. That, Mr. Stormbane, is why your professors speak of you with such fascination in the staff room."

"The mirror doesn't just show images," Kael continued, his analytical mind fully engaged. "It creates a complete sensory experience calibrated precisely to the viewer's magical signature. The inscription is clever—simple enough that most can decipher it, yet profound in its warning. 'I show not your face but your heart's desire.' A warning hidden in plain sight."

"And what warning would that be?" Dumbledore asked, though his expression suggested he already knew the answer.

"That what we desire most may not be what defines us best," Kael replied. "The mirror shows possibilities, not certainties—dreams, not plans. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what might be rather than engaged with what is."

"Precisely," Dumbledore said, genuine pleasure evident in his voice. "The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment before Kael spoke again. "The activation triggers are fascinating. The mirror doesn't just activate when someone stands before it—it requires active attention, a focusing of awareness. That's why portraits and ghosts wouldn't trigger it accidentally. And the psychometric calibration must reset between viewers to prevent contamination of the vision."

"You've given this considerable thought in a very short time," Dumbledore observed.

"The underlying principles are similar to what I explored when developing my enhanced Patronus," Kael explained. "Magic that interacts with consciousness operates on frameworks that bridge the objective and subjective—the most difficult kind of enchantment to stabilize over time."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly. "Enhanced Patronus? I wasn't aware you had mastered the charm, let alone modified it."

"It's still experimental," Kael admitted. "But it shows promise. The standard Patronus operates primarily as a shield by projecting positive emotional energy. By introducing elements of conscious intent into the spell matrix, I've been able to expand its functionality without compromising its core purpose."

"Remarkable," Dumbledore murmured. "Particularly given that most adult wizards never master the basic charm."

"I could show you my notes if you're interested," Kael offered. "The modification might be useful for... certain situations I suspect we may face in coming years."

The sudden seriousness in Kael's tone didn't escape Dumbledore's notice. "You refer to what's hidden beyond the third-floor corridor?"

Kael met the headmaster's gaze directly. "I refer to who's trying to acquire it. We both know Voldemort isn't truly gone."

If Dumbledore was surprised by Kael's directness, he didn't show it. Instead, he seemed to reach a decision, gesturing toward a pair of desks that Kael subtly transfigured into comfortable chairs with a flick of his wand. They sat facing each other, the mirror's gleaming surface visible to neither of them—a deliberate choice that Kael appreciated.

"You've determined much without being told explicitly," Dumbledore began. "Though perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, given your extraordinary perceptiveness."

"The signs are there for those willing to see them," Kael said simply. "The protections around the Philosopher's Stone are impressive but designed more as tests than as true barriers. And the Stone's presence here can't be coincidence—not with Harry Potter attending his first year."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly in calculation. "You've maintained your distance from Harry, despite clearly keeping track of his activities. May I ask why?"

"You asked me to be an independent guardian, not a direct protector," Kael reminded him. "And Harry needs to develop his own strength and connections. My interference would only complicate that process." He paused thoughtfully. "Though I admit I've been curious about the connection between his scar and the dark magic that lingers within it."

This time, Dumbledore couldn't quite hide his surprise. "You can sense that?"

"Not at first," Kael admitted. "But after the Halloween incident with the troll, I became more attuned to Harry's magical signature. There's something... foreign embedded within it. Something that resonates differently from the rest of his natural magic."

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. "And you've shared this observation with no one?"

"Some knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands," Kael said simply. "Or premature in the right ones."

The headmaster nodded slowly, seemingly reassessing Kael in light of this conversation. When he spoke again, his tone was more collegial than professorial.

"The Mirror of Erised will be moved to a new location tomorrow night," he said. "It has a final purpose to serve in protecting what's hidden in this castle."

Kael immediately grasped the implication. "You're incorporating it into the Stone's defenses. As the final protection?" At Dumbledore's slight nod, Kael continued, his mind racing through possibilities. "Brilliant. A defense mechanism based not on magical power or knowledge, but on intention. Only someone who wants to find the Stone but not use it could retrieve it."

"Precisely," Dumbledore confirmed. "Though I must admit, your suggestion of modifying the mirror's enchantments intrigues me. What improvements would you propose?"

Kael stood and approached the mirror again, this time with a craftsman's eye rather than a viewer's curiosity. His fingers traced the air inches from the frame, sensing the complex layering of enchantments.

"The primary matrix is remarkably stable, but there are points where the temporal anchoring could be reinforced," he observed. "And here—" he gestured toward the upper left corner of the frame, "—the psychometric filters could be tuned more precisely to detect conscious intention versus subconscious desire. That would strengthen its effectiveness as a protective measure."

Dumbledore joined him, his own magical senses extending to perceive what Kael was indicating. "You see the enchantment's structure with remarkable clarity for someone so young."

"My mother's influence," Kael explained. "Selena's specialty was always the architecture of complex enchantments. She taught me to visualize magical constructs as physical frameworks rather than abstract concepts."

"A valuable perspective," Dumbledore agreed. "One that seems to have served you well in your spellcrafting innovations."

"Speaking of which," Kael said, seamlessly transitioning topics as he continued examining the mirror, "I've been developing a variation on the standard Revealing Charm that might interest you. It's designed specifically to detect soul magic—including fragments and bindings."

The statement landed with deliberate weight between them. Dumbledore's hand, which had been tracing patterns in the air near the mirror's edge, stilled momentarily.

"Soul magic is among the darkest and most dangerous branches of magical study, Mr. Stormbane," he said carefully.

"Which is precisely why we should understand how to counter it," Kael replied, his tone respectful but unflinching. "Especially given certain theories about how Voldemort might have survived that Halloween night."

Their eyes met, a moment of silent communication passing between them—the ancient wizard and the young prodigy, each recognizing the other's awareness of dangers most of the wizarding world preferred to ignore.

"There are times," Dumbledore said finally, "when I forget you are only eleven years old, Mr. Stormbane."

"Chronological age is an imperfect measure of readiness," Kael responded. "Especially in matters where ignorance poses greater risk than knowledge."

"Indeed." Dumbledore's gaze shifted back to the mirror. "Though sometimes I wonder if we wouldn't all be happier not knowing what challenges lie ahead."

Kael followed his gaze, watching as his own reflection still stood among legendary wizards, working to unlock magic's deepest secrets. "Knowledge doesn't guarantee happiness, but it does provide choices. And choices are what define us more than our desires ever could."

"Wiser words than many Ministry officials twice my age might offer," Dumbledore said with genuine appreciation. "Now, I believe it's growing quite late, and while I'm certain you've taken precautions to avoid being caught wandering after curfew, perhaps we should both retire for the evening."

As they turned to leave, Kael cast one final glance at the mirror. His reflection smiled back at him, surrounded by the giants of magical innovation—not as idols to be worshipped, but as peers in the endless quest to understand magic's deepest truths. It was an aspiration worthy of a Stormbane, he decided—not merely to wield great power, but to expand magical knowledge itself.

"Professor," Kael said as they reached the doorway, "what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Dumbledore paused, his expression momentarily unguarded. For an instant, Kael glimpsed something profoundly sad in those ancient blue eyes—a regret that stretched back decades.

"I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks," Dumbledore said, his tone deliberately light. "One can never have enough socks."

Kael recognized the deflection but respected the headmaster's privacy. Some desires were too personal to share, even—perhaps especially—for someone as powerful as Albus Dumbledore.

"Goodnight, Professor," Kael said with a slight bow of his head.

"Goodnight, Mr. Stormbane," Dumbledore replied. "Though I suspect our paths will cross again before long."

They parted at the main staircase, the headmaster ascending while Kael made his way toward Ravenclaw Tower. The castle corridors remained quiet, most students long asleep in their dormitories. Kael moved with practiced silence, his mind still processing the evening's discoveries.

The Mirror of Erised had been enlightening—not just for what it showed him, but for how it confirmed what he already suspected about himself. Power alone had never been his ultimate ambition. Understanding, innovation, legacy—these were the currencies that truly mattered to him. The Stormbane name was already synonymous with extraordinary magical might; what Kael desired was to transform that reputation into something more profound, more enduring than mere destructive capability.

As he approached the bronze eagle knocker that guarded Ravenclaw Tower, it stirred to life, regarding him with gleaming eyes.

"What can be broken but never held?" the knocker asked, its voice melodious in the silent corridor.

"A promise," Kael answered without hesitation.

"Well reasoned," the knocker replied, swinging open to admit him.

The Ravenclaw common room was nearly empty, the midnight-blue carpet and star-patterned ceiling creating a peaceful atmosphere conducive to late-night contemplation. A few seventh-years hunched over parchments in the far corner, preparing for their approaching N.E.W.T. examinations. They nodded respectfully as Kael entered, his reputation for academic brilliance earning him unusual deference despite his age.

Near the fireplace, curled in an armchair with a massive tome balanced precariously on her knees, sat Hermione Granger. She looked up as he approached, her bushy hair illuminated by the dancing firelight.

"You're out late," she observed, keeping her voice low.

"As are you," Kael countered with a smile, settling into the chair opposite hers. "And in the wrong common room, I might add."

Hermione flushed slightly. "Professor Flitwick gave me special permission to use the Ravenclaw library section. I've been researching magical theory for that Charms essay on Modificational Intent."

"Ah, the Carrington Principle of spell adaptation," Kael nodded appreciatively. "Fascinating area of study. Most first-years would be satisfied with the standard texts."

"Well, I'm not most first-years," Hermione said, then winced at how boastful it sounded. "I mean—"

"No need to explain," Kael assured her. "Intellectual curiosity shouldn't be apologized for, especially in Ravenclaw Tower." He glanced at the book in her lap. "Though I think you might find Wembley's 'Practical Applications of Magical Modification' more useful for that particular essay. It's less theoretical than Carrington and provides clearer examples."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Is it in the library? I didn't see it in the reference section."

"It's rather rare," Kael admitted. "But I happen to have a copy in my trunk. I can lend it to you tomorrow if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, then quickly lowered her voice, glancing at the studying seventh-years. More quietly, she added, "Thank you."

Kael nodded, noticing the way the firelight brought out auburn highlights in her hair. There was something uniquely satisfying about Hermione's approach to magic—her methodical mind and insatiable curiosity reminded him of himself, though her methods were sometimes more rigid than his own innovative tendencies.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Hermione said suddenly, closing her book. "That spell you used in Charms yesterday—the modified Levitation Charm that allowed you to control the object's rotation as well as its elevation. It wasn't in any of our textbooks."

"It wouldn't be," Kael confirmed. "It's one of my own variations. Wingardium Vortexo adds a rotational component to the standard levitation matrix."

"Your own—" Hermione looked simultaneously impressed and slightly envious. "But that's N.E.W.T. level work at least! Spell modification isn't covered until sixth year."

Kael shrugged modestly. "The principles aren't so complex once you understand the underlying magical structures. Levitation magic operates on a fairly straightforward vector field. Adding rotational parameters is just a matter of introducing the right modifiers to the spell's energy flow."

Hermione stared at him, her academic competitiveness momentarily overtaken by genuine admiration. "Would you... could you show me how you approached creating it? Not the spell itself, necessarily, but the process? I've read about spell creation, but the books are so abstract."

Kael considered her request. Most students would have asked simply to be taught the spell, but Hermione wanted to understand the methodology—the how rather than just the what. It was precisely this quality that made her company intellectually stimulating.

"I could do better than that," he offered. "I could help you create your own variation. Perhaps a modified warming charm or color-changing spell to start with? Those have simpler matrices and are more forgiving of experimental adjustments."

The excitement that blazed across Hermione's face made Kael smile. Here was someone who understood the joy of magical innovation—not as a path to recognition or power, but for the pure intellectual satisfaction it provided.

"That would be amazing," she breathed. "But... wouldn't that be breaking rules about underage spell creation? I read that the Ministry restricts experimental magic without proper supervision."

"Technically," Kael acknowledged, "though those restrictions are primarily concerned with potentially dangerous spell development. Simple modifications to established utility spells fall into a rather gray area of magical legislation." He leaned forward slightly. "Besides, my parents secured special dispensation for me through the Department of Magical Innovation. I could easily add you as a research assistant under my authorization."

Hermione seemed momentarily torn between her respect for rules and her thirst for knowledge. Predictably, knowledge won out.

"When could we start?" she asked eagerly.

"This weekend, perhaps? The empty classroom on the fifth floor has excellent magical acoustics. The stone there was quarried from a region with high natural magical conductivity."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked, fascinated.

"I can sense it," Kael explained. "Different stones have distinct magical resonance patterns based on their mineral composition and the conditions under which they formed."

"You can sense it?" Hermione repeated, her academic mind immediately curious. "Like some form of magical synesthesia?"

Kael smiled appreciatively at her quick grasp of the concept. "Something like that. It's a familial trait, enhanced through specific meditative practices. The Stormbane lineage has always had a particular sensitivity to elemental and environmental magic."

Their conversation continued into the late hours, ranging from theoretical magical concepts to practical applications of transmutation principles. Few other first-years could have maintained such a discussion, but Hermione matched Kael's intellectual pace with impressive stamina, her questions incisive and thoughtful.

It was well past two in the morning when they finally noticed the common room had emptied completely. Even the dedicated seventh-years had retired to their dormitories.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, looking at the ornate clock on the wall. "I should have been back at Gryffindor Tower hours ago! Professor Flitwick's permission wouldn't extend this late."

"No need to worry," Kael said, rising from his chair. "I'll escort you."

"But you'll be out after curfew too," Hermione protested, though she gathered her books.

Kael smiled enigmatically. "I have my methods for avoiding unwanted attention. Besides, it would hardly be gentlemanly to send you wandering the corridors alone at this hour."

He retrieved his wand from his sleeve with a practiced gesture and performed a subtle, complex movement that Hermione didn't recognize. "Obscura Mist," he whispered.

A faint, nearly transparent mist seemed to gather around them, distorting the light in an oddly selective way.

"What does this do?" Hermione asked, fascinated despite her concern about being out after hours.

"It's a perception filter," Kael explained as they exited through the common room door. "Not true invisibility, but rather a subtle suggestion to any observers that we're simply not worth noticing. It works particularly well on portraits and ghosts, though less reliably on actual people—especially those with strong magical awareness like professors."

"That's brilliant," Hermione whispered as they moved through the corridors. "Is it your own creation as well?"

"A collaboration, actually," Kael admitted with a hint of amusement. "Fred and George Weasley provided the initial concept—they wanted something subtler than Disillusionment Charms for their nocturnal adventures. I refined their rather crude prototype into something more elegant."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You work with Fred and George? On pranks?"

"Among other things," Kael said, guiding her around a corner just before Peeves emerged from a classroom further down the hall. "They're remarkably innovative thinkers, once you get past their rather obvious applications. Many great magical breakthroughs throughout history began as simple entertainment."

They continued in comfortable silence, Kael occasionally adjusting their route to avoid patrolling prefects or professors. Hermione watched him with growing curiosity—this side of Kael Stormbane was different from the brilliant, sometimes intimidating presence she'd observed in classes. Here, moving confidently through darkened corridors with spells of his own creation surrounding them, he seemed more relaxed, more authentic somehow.

When they finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Kael dispelled the mist with a casual wave of his wand.

"You should go straight to your dormitory," he advised. "The Fat Lady will report your late return, but the consequences will be minimal if you're sensible now."

Hermione nodded, then hesitated. "Thank you, Kael. For walking me back and... for offering to teach me about spell modification. It's... well, it's very kind of you."

"Not at all," Kael replied with genuine warmth. "The wizarding world benefits when magical knowledge is cultivated rather than hoarded. Besides," he added with a playful smile that made his luminescent blue eyes sparkle in the dim light, "I find our conversations stimulating. You ask questions that make me reconsider my own assumptions."

A faint blush colored Hermione's cheeks. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. For that book?"

"Of course," Kael nodded. "Good night, Hermione."

"Good night," she replied, then turned to the portrait. "Caput Draconis."

The Fat Lady, who had been pretending to sleep, opened one eye with obvious disapproval. "Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?" she demanded.

"My apologies for the late hour," Kael interjected smoothly before Hermione could respond. "Miss Granger was assisting me with an urgent academic matter with Professor Flitwick's knowledge. Any concerns should be directed to me, as I requested her expertise."

The portrait sniffed but seemed somewhat appeased by Kael's authoritative tone. The door swung open, and Hermione gave Kael a grateful smile before disappearing into Gryffindor Tower.

Kael waited until the portrait closed, then reapplied his Obscura Mist with a practiced gesture. As he made his way back toward Ravenclaw Tower, his mind returned to the Mirror of Erised and his conversation with Dumbledore. Something significant was unfolding within Hogwarts' ancient walls—something that centered around Harry Potter but would inevitably affect them all.

The knowledge that Voldemort wasn't truly gone came as no surprise to Kael. The Stormbane family records documented many historical dark wizards who had employed various methods to cheat death. That Harry bore a connection to the Dark Lord through his scar suggested complexities that even Dumbledore might not fully comprehend.

As he approached the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower once more, Kael made a decision. Tomorrow, he would begin researching more advanced protective spells—ones specifically designed to counter soul magic and spiritual possession. If his suspicions about Quirrell were correct, the danger to Harry Potter—and potentially the entire school—was far greater than a simple theft attempt.

The bronze eagle posed a different riddle this time: "What comes once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?"

"The letter M," Kael answered, his mind already cataloging the ancient texts he would need to consult in the Restricted Section.

As he finally settled into his bed in the first-year boys' dormitory, Kael's thoughts drifted to the image the Mirror had shown him—working alongside history's greatest magical minds to unlock the fundamental secrets of magic itself. It was a worthy aspiration, he decided. Not fame, not raw power, but understanding and innovation that could benefit generations to come.

With that thought, Kael Stormbane—prodigy, spellcrafter, heir to one of wizarding history's most formidable legacies—closed his eyes and drifted into dreams filled with complex magical formulas, ancient knowledge, and the faces of friends who were slowly but surely becoming as important to him as his remarkable achievements.