firecracker ???

It happened in the middle of the night, when the castle was at its stillest—when even the ghosts seemed to glide more softly and the wind howled less at the windows. A scream cut through the silence like a knife through silk, rising sharp and high before choking off into silence. By morning, the news had spread to every corner of Hogwarts.

Ginny Weasley was missing.

Taken.

Her bed had not been slept in. Her things were still folded, untouched, by her bedside. The last known sighting was hours before curfew, her face pale and drawn, slipping past the library staircase.

Elestara knew before anyone said a word. She felt it in the hollow in her chest the moment she stepped into the common room that morning, in the unusual stillness that met her arrival, in the way Draco went silent mid-sentence and Pansy gripped her teacup too tightly.

Before the hour had passed, Professor Snape summoned her to his office.

She didn't ask why.

She simply went.

The corridors were hushed and heavy. The castle held its breath. Something old was stirring again—she could feel it under her skin, in her spine, in the way her feet sounded too loud against the stone floor.

Snape's office door opened before she could knock.

He did not speak. He only stepped aside to let her in.

And there, standing in the center of the room with his hands clasped behind his back, was her father.

Lucius Malfoy.

He looked as he always did—impeccable in posture and dress, with eyes that saw too much and revealed nothing. But there was something tighter about him today. A coil of steel beneath the skin.

He turned only slightly as she entered.

"Leave us," he said to Snape, and the professor obeyed without question.

The door shut with a click.

Lucius waited until the silence settled.

Then, without ceremony, he spoke.

"She's been taken. The Chamber is open."

Elestara nodded. "I know."

"There will be chaos. The professors will send the students home. Dumbledore will lose control. It has begun."

She said nothing. Waited.

Lucius stepped closer, inspecting her as though preparing a blade.

"This is the moment," he said, and his voice was very low, very sharp. "Everything we've laid out converges here."

She didn't ask what he meant. She already knew.

"This was never just about a diary," he continued. "It was about legacy. About power. About balance. The school has become soft. Corrupted. The Dark Lord's ideals were never as fragile as they were painted. Order must be restored."

"And the girl?"

"She was a conduit. Necessary. Tragic, yes, but insignificant in the scale of what's to come."

Elestara didn't flinch.

Lucius stepped even closer.

"When Potter follows—and he will—you will go after him. You will enter the Chamber. You will stand beside him. Or before him. Depending on how far he's willing to go."

She held his gaze. "And if he falters?"

Lucius gave the barest trace of a smile. "Then you do not."

He reached out, briefly, and adjusted the clasp of her robe.

"You are a Malfoy by blood. A Black by name. You carry legacy on both shoulders. Do not forget it."

"I won't."

He studied her face, and for a moment there was something almost human in his eyes.

"You've done well," he said softly. "Far better than I ever expected."

And then, quietly—so quietly she almost missed it:

"Be ready."

He turned and left without another word.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And Elestara stood alone, on the threshold of what came next.

She did not tremble.

She did not waver.

She simply waited for the castle to move—and for Potter to make his next move toward the dark.