"Track souls?"
Nathael's voice was low, almost reverent—as if speaking those words aloud had summoned something that ought never be named. In the Headmaster's office, even the silver instruments seemed to pause for a breath, as if holding their silence.
Dumbledore didn't flinch. He simply watched Nathael with those blue eyes that seemed to see beyond skin, beyond bone, all the way to the place where soul and magic intertwine.
"Yes," he said. "An artifact capable of detecting, tracking, and—in some cases—interacting with living souls."
Nathael frowned. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, while Celestia, perched on his lap, narrowed her eyes with a mix of curiosity and caution.
"Such objects… are extremely rare," Nathael said. "And not just because of scarcity. They're considered taboo by at least seven magical ministries worldwide. In Egypt, possession is punishable by wand forfeiture and magical exile. In France, they're called Miroirs de l'Âme Perdue and classified as Class Five artifacts: dangerous, unstable, and morally questionable."
"Why?" Dumbledore asked—though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"Because souls aren't ghosts," Nathael explained. "Ghosts are echoes—shadows of what once was. But a living soul… can be separated from the body without the person dying. It can travel, hide, fragment. And if someone possesses an artifact that can track it… they can also trap it. Manipulate it. Even use it as a source of power."
Celestia nodded from her place.
"My grandmother," she said, "told me that in the fourteenth century, a Bavarian wizard used a Soul Mirror to steal fragments of will from his enemies. He left them alive… but empty. Like shells with eyes."
Dumbledore nodded slowly.
"Soul magic is the oldest… and the most dangerous. That's why few dare to touch it. And even fewer trade in it."
Nathael smiled—not with malice, but with the knowing grin of a man who understands the value of the forbidden.
"And yet… you're asking me for one."
"Because I trust you wouldn't use it with ill intent," Dumbledore said.
"I wouldn't," Nathael replied. "Not because I'm a saint—but because I'm a professional. And professionals don't ruin their reputations over foolishness."
A silence settled between them. Then Nathael leaned back in his chair.
"I'm sorry to tell you, Professor, but the last such artifact I knew of… is no longer on the market. We sold it three years ago to a Chinese family—the Liangs of Canton."
Celestia lifted her head.
"We were there," she said. "Nathael and I. We were fifteen. It was one of our first serious assignments—accompanying his parents to a private auction in the Yunnan mountains."
Nathael nodded.
"The Liangs were… peculiar. They wore robes embroidered with threads of real dragon—genuine, by the way—and spoke an ancient dialect even automatic translators couldn't decipher. But they paid well. Very well. Thirty thousand Galleons in pure gold, plus a box of starfish dust I still use for certain location rituals."
"And we didn't ask why they wanted it," Celestia added. "Because it wasn't our business."
"Exactly," Nathael said, turning to Dumbledore. "I don't ask why you want something. I only ask how much you're willing to pay for it."
Dumbledore steepled his fingers, thoughtful.
"I understand. But… is there any chance of acquiring another?"
Nathael took his time. He glanced at Celestia. She gave him the faintest of looks: play this hand well.
"It's possible," he said at last. "But it won't be easy. These artifacts aren't made—they're discovered. And they're usually hidden in places not even magical maps record. Sometimes beneath ruined temples. Other times inside books that can only be read under a black moon. Some say the oldest were crafted by the first Sumerian wizards… and respond only to ancestral blood."
"Then… what would be the price?" Dumbledore asked.
Nathael smiled—not broadly, but with the subtle curve of lips belonging to a player who's just seen his cards.
"The price will depend on where the object is hidden. But…" he paused dramatically, "before I set out to find it, I'll need clues. And there's one place in the world where those clues might be written."
His eyes drifted toward the shelves of ancient tomes lining the office.
"The Hogwarts Library," Celestia finished for him.
Dumbledore didn't seem surprised. Only… assessing.
"How long do you think it would take you to find those clues?"
"A few months," Nathael said. "Perhaps less, if I have full access to the Restricted Section. Once I have a lead, the rest will be a matter of logistics—and, of course, compensation."
Celestia purred softly, proud. She knew exactly what Nathael was doing: he wasn't just negotiating a job—he was securing an extended stay in the most magical castle in the world… with official permission.
Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. His eyes—deep as wells—seemed to weigh not just his words, but his intentions, his secrets, his past.
"Hogwarts is not a hotel," he said at last. "And I cannot allow a stranger to wander its corridors without a valid reason before the Board of Governors."
"Of course," Nathael said. "I understand appearances."
"Then… I propose this," Dumbledore said. "You and Celestia will remain at the castle for the coming months as academic consultants. Officially, you'll assist the professors in matters of ancient magic, lost artifacts, and non-European magical traditions. In practice… you may research in the library, access certain archives, and, if necessary, use private study rooms."
"A fair deal," Nathael said.
"With one condition," Dumbledore added. "No dark magic. Nothing that endangers students, staff, or the integrity of the castle. And if you find anything… you'll inform me before acting."
"Accepted," Nathael said without hesitation.
Dumbledore extended his hand. Nathael shook it firmly.
Celestia—with a grace only she possessed—hopped down from Nathael's lap, approached the desk, and solemnly placed her right paw on Dumbledore's palm.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Professor," Nathael said.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Grauheim," Dumbledore replied. "Classes begin on September first. Until then, the castle is your home."
"We'll be here," Celestia said. "And please… could you ensure my bed has magical silk lining? Scottish cold is treacherous to fine fur."
"I'll have someone personally prepare a bed worthy of your status," Dumbledore said, a spark of amusement in his eyes.
"I'd prefer it not be a house-elf," Celestia added with a grimace. "They're far too enthusiastic about dodo feathers. And they hate silk. Say it 'attracts evil spirits.' As if spirits have time to worry about bedsheet textures."
Dumbledore chuckled softly.
"Noted."
As they stepped out of the office, the afternoon sun bathed the stone corridors in golden light. Nathael took a deep breath. The air smelled of moss, old parchment, and something else: possibility.
"I'm proud of you," Celestia said, walking beside him with her tail held high. "That move was brilliant."
"Thank you," Nathael said, smiling. "Though it wasn't entirely untrue. The Grauheim network is vast. If I wanted, I could contact the Liangs within a week. And with a few favors—a stolen Egyptian grimoire for a collector in Istanbul, a moon willow wand for a witch in Prague—I'd have the artifact's exact location within a month."
"Then… why didn't you?"
"Because Grauheim favors are costly," Nathael said. "And because…" He stopped, gazing up at the castle's towers. "Hogwarts isn't just a castle. It's a walking treasure. Secret chambers, forgotten passageways, books unread for centuries. If I'm going to be here, I want to get the most out of it."
He rubbed his hands together—not with vulgar greed, but with the anticipation of a craftsman who knows a masterpiece awaits discovery.
Celestia looked at him fondly.
"You're a true Grauheim."
"And you a true companion."
They walked in silence to the castle doors. Outside, the wind carried the scent of Hogsmeade: caramel, wet wood, and chimney smoke.
"And now?" Celestia asked.
"Now…" Nathael said, "let's go sightseeing. I want to see the wand shop. And the Leaky Cauldron. And, if possible, find out where they hide the elf wine at the Three Broomsticks."
"Only if you buy me a new coat," Celestia said. "This one already smells like a library."
"Deal."