The cold November sky stretched over Hogwarts like a pale blue canvas. It was unusually clear that day, considering the time of year in Scotland. The air was crisp, and the afternoon sun bathed the grounds in a beautiful, peaceful light.
Near the shore of the Black Lake, far from the hustle and bustle of the castle and prying eyes, Aurelian Gaunt was lying on the grass. His hands were crossed behind his head, using them as a pillow, and his eyes were half-closed, enjoying the peace and calm brought on by the sound of the water lapping at the shore.
A few yards away, Hestia and Flora Carrow were standing by the water, looking for some flat stones.
Plif, plaf, pluf.
Hestia flicked a stone with a flick of her wrist, making it bounce four times before sinking into the water.
"I still don't understand how it's possible," Hestia muttered with a tone of disgust, wiping the dust from her hands. "That the Goblet chose that idiot Potter is an insult to magic itself that they represent the school"
Flora threw her own stone harder, causing the water to splash violently instead of bouncing.
"It's stupid," Flora agreed, frowning. "I can understand Diggory. He's a decent wizard and he has some skill. But Potter... he's a mediocre wizard who can barely brew a potion to cure boils without blowing up the cauldron."
Hestia turned, crossing her arms and looking at the castle with disdain.
"It should have been you, Aurelian. You're the king of this school. Seeing that kid strutting around like he's your equal turns my stomach."
Aurelian opened his eyes to look at them and let out a relaxed sigh.
"Stop making such a big deal out of it, girls," he said lazily. "Potter is irrelevant. His 'glory' is a house of cards. The higher his ego rises now, the harder he will fall when he realizes the truth. Don't waste your energy hating him."
Hestia and Flora turned to him, puffing out their cheeks in unison in an adorable pout that contrasted with their previous venomous words.
"But we wanted to see you win," Hestia murmured.
"We wanted to see you humiliate them all," Flora added.
Seeing that Aurelian was not going to change his stance or his decision, the twins abandoned their indignation. They walked over to him and flopped down on the grass beside him. Hestia curled up on his left side and Flora on his right, using him as their personal pillow.
Aurelian smiled, releasing his hands from behind his head to put an arm around each of their shoulders, pulling them closer to him. The scent of vanilla and flowers that always accompanied them enveloped him.
"You know?" Aurelian said softly, watching the clouds pass by. "I prefer this a thousand times more than any silly tournament. Lying here on the grass, watching the clouds in the clear sky with you two by my side... It's incredible. I wouldn't trade this moment for any gold cup."
The girls looked up at him. Their expressions softened, and genuine, radiant smiles lit up their identical faces. They leaned over at the same time and planted a soft but lingering kiss on each of his cheeks.
"We do too, my love" said Hestia, resting her chin on his chest.
"We always preferred to be like this with you," whispered Flora.
There was a comfortable moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.
"Only two years to go..." Hestia said suddenly, tracing hearts on Aurelian's shirt with her index finger. "One more year until we finish school, and two until we turn eighteen."
"Only two years until we finally get married," Flora added, a dangerous dreaminess in her eyes. "I've been practicing my signature, you know?"
Flora looked up at the sky, visualizing her future.
"Hestia Gaunt and Flora Gaunt" she savored the names as she pronounced them. "It doesn't sound bad, does it? It has a powerful sound to it. It's perfect."
Aurelian felt the heat rise to his neck and cheeks. Despite his usual control and calculating attitude, the frankness with which his betrotheds spoke when it came to their future together always disarmed him.
"It sounds... beautiful," Aurelian admitted, coughing a little and looking away toward the lake to hide his blush.
Hestia and Flora noticed the color in his cheeks and their smiles widened, becoming predatory and sweet at the same time. They looked at each other over Aurelian's chest, sharing a silent, dark thought.
"Two years," they both thought, always knowing what the other was thinking just by looking into each other's eyes. "Just two more years and the contract will be absolute. When we are eighteen and bear his surname, nothing and no one will be able to separate him from us. He will be ours. Totally ours. For all eternity. And anyone who tries to touch what belongs to the Gaunts... will wish they had never been born."
The weeks that followed were a complete test of Aurelian's patience.
His main mission was to keep Harry alive until the third task, but "the Boy Who Lived" seemed determined to make that difficult. Aurelian had followed him under some disillusionment spells and learned that Hagrid had already shown him the dragons in the forest. With that, Harry knew what he was up against and could begin to prepare.
But reality is often disappointing.
Instead of researching the possible dragons he would face, or investigating some advanced spells and evasion strategies, Harry spent his afternoons in the Common Room bragging or practicing basic spells, according to Neville, which greatly frustrated Aurelian.
"He's useless," Aurelian muttered one afternoon, slamming a book shut in the library when he saw Harry laughing at a joke instead of studying. "If I keep waiting for him to prepare on his own, he'll end up turned to ash by a dragon's flames," he sighed. "It looks like I'll have to intervene directly on the day of the tryout"
With that decision made, Aurelian gathered his things and left the library, his mind already drawing up contingency plans for the day the tournament began.
He turned into the hallway, but his path was abruptly blocked.
Alastor Moody was there, leaning against the stone wall, his magical eye spinning wildly until it fixed on Aurelian's face.
Aurelian remained unperturbed. He adjusted his posture and offered a polite smile.
"Professor Moody. Good afternoon, I hope you're having an excellent day."
Moody's response was a growl, similar to that of a guard dog that smells an intruder has entered its home. Aurelian tried to walk around him to continue on his way, but the old Auror's wooden cane shot out, hitting the wall and blocking his path with a sharp thud.
Aurelian stopped. His smile did not waver, but his eyes darkened.
Moody leaned toward him, his breath reeking of alcohol.
"I know your kind, Gaunt," Moody whispered in Aurelian's ear, his raspy voice thick with venom. "You've hidden it well behind that rich kid facade. You've fooled Albus. But I know wizards like you. Your attitude won't fool me."
Aurelian sighed inwardly. The same old song again.
"I don't know what you're talking about, professor. If you'll excuse me... I'm in a bit of a hurry." Aurelian gently pushed the cane aside with a finger and took a step forward.
But Moody wasn't finished. He spoke louder, so that his voice echoed in the quiet hallway.
"You're just like your father. You think you're better than everyone else, and you have that same darkness, the kind that rots your soul."
Aurelian kept walking, turning his back on him. The insults about his father didn't affect him, because it was all true. His father was the Dark Lord. That was a fact, not an insult.
Then Moody let out a mocking laugh and began to speak cruelly.
"And your mother..." said Moody, "She was surely just like him. A dark witch, a damned whore who spread her legs for a Mons..."
BOOM.
Moody couldn't finish his sentence when something attacked him.
Aurelian unleashed all his power.
A torrent of pure magic, sickly green in color, saturated with all his rage, exploded from Aurelian's body like a shockwave. The magic struck Moody in the chest with devastating force, lifting him off the ground and throwing him violently backwards.
The Invoker's body flew through the air and crashed into the opposite stone wall with such brutality that the wall couldn't withstand the blow and exploded, sending dust and debris all over the hallway.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the fall of a few stones.
Aurelian turned slowly. He was no longer smiling. His face had a cold expression. The image of Elaine, his mother, a woman who had loved him until the end and continued to love him in the afterlife, shone clearly in his mind. He would not allow anyone to tarnish her memory.
His magical aura saturated the air, causing the torches on the walls to flicker and turn green.
"You don't know..." said Aurelian, his voice vibrating with a power that made the nearby windowpanes rattle, "...who my mother was, you know nothing about her."
He walked toward the rubble where Moody was trying to get up, coughing blood and his magic eye bulging.
"You're an ignorant fool," Aurelian continued, looking down on him as if he were trash. "An old dog who barks at shadows and judges what he doesn't know. My mother was a saint compared to you. She had more light in a single finger than you have in your entire miserable existence. You say I'm a dark wizard, but you behave just like them."
Moody, leaning on his broken cane, looked at the boy. For the first time in years, he felt a little afraid. The magic that had just struck him was not that of a student. It had catastrophic power.
"What the hell is this boy?" Moody thought, quickly calculating that in his current state and with his wooden leg, he might not be able to defeat him. This boy was also a Invoker.
Before Aurelian could launch another attack, a golden flash lit up the hallway.
"Enough!"
Albus Dumbledore appeared amid the destruction. His presence radiated authority, his blue eyes wide as he took in the scene, his gaze shifting between the shattered wall, Aurelian's murderous aura, and Moody staggering on his cane.
"What has happened here?" Dumbledore demanded to know.
Aurelian was not intimidated. He slowly withdrew his magic, but kept his gaze fixed on Moody.
"Sorry for all this commotion, Headmaster. The professor and I had a disagreement," Aurelian said coldly. "But let me make one thing very clear."
Aurelian glanced at Dumbledore for a second before fixing his eyes on Moody's.
"If you ever hint or say another word about my mother," whispered Aurelian. The promise of death in his voice was so real that it froze the blood of those present. "I will kill you in the worst possible way... I don't care about the consequences, I will kill you"
Without waiting for a response, Aurelian adjusted his robe and walked away down the hallway, his footsteps echoing until he disappeared into the darkness.
Dumbledore stared at the boy's back with an expression of deep concern until he disappeared. Then he turned to Moody, who was brushing dust off his clothes with a grimace of pain.
"Alastor!" Dumbledore scolded, his voice harsh and tinged with disappointment. "What were you thinking? Why provoke him like that?"
"I just wanted to see what was under the mask, Albus," Moody growled, spitting out a little blood. "And I saw it. It's pure darkness. Albus, that mother of his... Who was she? For him to react like that, she must have been a terrible witch."
Dumbledore looked at his friend coldly, shaking his head.
"You're wrong, Alastor. All you need to know is that she was a kind, big-hearted witch who didn't deserve the fate she had, not the villain your imagination has created."
Albus sighed, running a hand through his brown hair and helping Moody to his feet.
"And I'll remind you once more: Aurelian is not his father. But if you continue to push him toward the abyss with your blind hatred, you could end up creating the monster you fear so much."
Moody fell silent, staring at the rubble of the wall. He remembered the look in the boy's eyes, the overwhelming power that emanated from him, and his fierce defense of his mother's memory.
"Maybe," Moody thought with a shiver, "maybe I made a mistake."
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