Umbras ? Harry Potter

chapter four

And then, one evening, as she stood alone in the vast library, she tried again—only for her mind to be pulled somewhere unexpected.

She thought of a voice, steady and insistent, cutting through doubt. A laugh—exasperated, amused, familiar. A presence that had always been there, pushing and pulling in ways she never fully understood. Something in her chest twisted, sharp and sudden.

Before she could question it, the mist surged forward, taking shape.

A Granian.

The winged horse burst from her wand, its shimmering form standing tall before her. Ciara stared, stunned, as it pawed at the ground, its silver coat glinting in the dim candlelight. She barely had time to register the wonder of it before another thought crashed into her mind—one that made her stomach flip.

Why had it worked when she thought of him?

The realization hit her like a lightning bolt, and for the first time in weeks, she wasn't thinking about the storm outside—only the one now raging inside her.

She shook the thought away, watching as the spectral horse faded into wisps of silver mist. Now was not the time to dwell on confusing feelings. She had more pressing concerns—like the storm that still hadn't come.

Days passed, and still, the sky remained stubbornly calm. With each morning and night, she continued her incantation, her voice steady even as doubt crept in. The vial, sealed tight with its fragile contents, sat in the darkest corner of her wardrobe, untouched but never forgotten. She checked it obsessively, ensuring no sliver of light had seeped through, no disturbance had compromised its delicate balance.

But as the summer days dwindled, so did her hope. What if all her efforts had been for nothing? What if the storm never came?

The night before her departure for Hogwarts, Ciara sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small wooden box that held the vial.

She wouldn't let this be the end of it. If there was no storm at home, then she would wait for one at Hogwarts. The castle sat atop the Scottish Highlands—surely, it was only a matter of time before the skies finally gave her what she needed.

Moving carefully, she wrapped the box in layers of fabric before tucking it into the bottom of her trunk, shielded from any accidental exposure. She reinforced the protection with a whispered spell, securing the latch tightly.

Ciara traced her fingers over the worn edges of the trunk, exhaling slowly. A month of effort, of patience, of pushing herself further than she ever had before—and now, all she could do was wait. It was maddening.

But she refused to believe it had been for nothing.

⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

September 17, 1994 • Hogwarts 

Ciara had just started to drift into sleep when she heard it—thunder, deep and rolling, shaking the very foundations of the dungeons. Her eyes snapped open, a thrill coursing through her. The storm had finally arrived.

She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her pulse quickening. She had been waiting weeks for this. Slipping her wand from beneath her pillow, she muttered "Lumos." The faint glow illuminated her nightstand, casting long shadows across the dormitory.

Careful not to wake the other girls, she knelt beside her trunk and pulled out a small, unassuming wooden box. The metal clasp was cool beneath her fingertips as she undid the latch. Inside, nestled between layers of soft cloth, were the final ingredients of the Animagus potion—gathered in secret, stored with meticulous care.