Luciscura / Fred Weasley

The end of term loomed over Hogwarts, and students were buried under stacks of parchment, frantically revising for their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Even in the secret dueling chamber, where Lettie and her friends usually trained, textbooks and notes were scattered across tables instead of dueling dummies and wands at the ready.

Lettie flipped a page of her Ancient Runes textbook, absently tapping her quill against the desk. Across from her, Theo and Blaise were deep in a whispered debate over Arithmancy equations, while Daphne was quizzing Tracey on Potions ingredients. The atmosphere was tense but productive—until the door swung open.

Fred and George Weasley strolled in, looking entirely too cheerful for people who were supposed to be studying.

Fred dropped into the seat beside Lettie, leaning in close.

"You look far too serious," he murmured, grinning. "Fancy a break?"

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"If I fail my exams, I'm blaming you."

"Deal." Fred smirked, plucking the quill from her fingers. "We both know you're going to ace them, anyway."

Luna and Susan arrived a few minutes later, carrying Butterbeer and pastries from the kitchens. Harry followed shortly after, looking exhausted but determined.

"How's Occlumency going?" Lettie asked as he dropped into a chair.

"Better," Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair. "Still not perfect, but at least I don't feel like my mind is an open book anymore."

"Good," Susan said approvingly.

"Voldemort won't find what he's looking for if you keep improving."

Lettie nodded, pleased with the progress. Harry had come a long way since they started teaching him Occlumency. Unlike Snape's harsh approach, they had focused on mindfulness, visualization, and emotional control—methods that actually worked for Harry.

Theo glanced up from his Arithmancy notes. "We should all be practicing, to be honest. If he can get into Harry's head, what's stopping him from trying with someone else?"

A thoughtful silence settled over the group.

Meanwhile, miles away from Hogwarts, Sirius and Finnick worked tirelessly in the shadows.

Inside Grimmauld Place's study, stacks of ancient books lined the tables, alongside enchanted maps and notes scribbled in Finnick's precise handwriting. The Black family library had proven invaluable, revealing knowledge long buried by time and secrecy.

The locket—the same one Kreacher had sworn Regulus had taken—lay on the table between them, cleansed of its dark magic. It had been their key to uncovering the rest.

"We've confirmed five so far," Finnick murmured, flipping through his notes. "The diary, the ring, the cup, the locket, and the diadem."

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "And Harry?"

Finnick met his gaze, expression grim. "We'll have everything we need for the ritual by summer."

Sirius clenched his jaw. The idea of performing dark magic—even to save Harry—unsettled him. But there was no other way.

"We'll wait until the term ends," he said finally. "Then, we finish this."

Back at Hogwarts, Lettie had no idea that, in just a few weeks, everything would change.