The midnight hour arrived with a heavy, suffocating silence that seemed to press down on the camp. While the rest of the world slept, the air within the tents was thick with shifting dreams and hidden nightmares.
Kael Nightshade lay on his back, his face flushed a deep crimson, a foolish, intoxicated grin plastered across his features even in sleep. He glanced toward the silhouette of James, who was resting peacefully nearby.
"James," Kael sneered in the privacy of his heart. "You always think you're the real hero in front of Rose. No, no... Kael is the real hero, and you are a zero. This hero will win Rose today. We will sail in the same boat, singing songs—the perfect, legendary pair."
He turned his head toward the figure he believed was Rose, whispering into the shadows, "We will become a super pair. No matter how you look, you are always a beauty." He giggled to himself, hiding his blushing face beneath his blanket.
Nearby, trapped in Rose's skin, Lord Voldemort felt a physical surge of revulsion so intense he nearly gagged.
"Awww..." he groaned internally, his face twisting in a look of pure loathing.
Suddenly, a twisted imagination took hold of the Dark Lord's mind, fueled by Kael's relentless, pathetic pursuit. In this waking nightmare, Voldemort saw Kael approaching him with a drunken, lovestruck swagger.
"Hey beauty, you look stunning," the imaginary Kael cooed, leaning in.
"I am Voldemort!" the Dark Lord hissed in his vision, his red eyes flashing with a warning of death. "I will kill you if you come near me! Are you drunk? You useless, disgusting creature!"
But the dream-Kael only laughed, behaving like a man lost in a romantic stupor. "I will get killed by you for your love a thousand times! Kill me, Volde... kill me with your love!"
Voldemort's fury exploded in his mind. He saw himself pointing his wand at the boy, his snake Nagini watching from the shadows with hungry eyes. "I feel disgusted even to touch you! How could a girl like Rose ever fall for you? You indecent, disgusting creature! I will kill you!"
"I love you, Voldy!" Kael's imaginary voice shouted, a red rose clenched between his teeth as he chased Voldemort. "No matter how you look, I will always love you, Voldemort! Let me take care of you... let me kiss you..."
Voldemort recoiled in his own mind, retreating as he felt a wave of nausea. The image of Kael—shorter than him, pathetic and sweaty—trying to embrace him was a torture beyond any he had ever devised for his enemies. He felt like he was about to vomit right there in the tent.
"NO!" Voldemort's internal scream finally broke the vision. He snapped back to reality, his chest heaving with rage.
Kael was still murmuring in his sleep beside him, "I love you a lot... no matter how you look..."
Voldemort's anger was a ticking bomb. He realized with a shudder of horror that he was stuck. If he didn't do something soon, he would be trapped in this humiliating "romance" with a boy who made his skin crawl.
The Shadows of the Future
In another corner of the camp, Frank shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. He had seen the strange closeness between "Rose" and Kael earlier, and the memory made him feel ill.
"I think I have to take Rose to a doctor," Frank thought, pulling his blanket over his head to block out the world. "She's definitely gone mad. Seeing their romance... eww... it gives me a vomiting sensation. Why isn't James worried? He's always loved Rose. Why is he being so strange?"
While Frank struggled with confusion, James Sirius Potter was locked in a deeper struggle. His sleep was a canvas of fading glimpses. He saw the face of Varkon, the ancient guardian, whose voice was growing weak and distant.
"James..." the voice echoed.
But then, a new name sliced through the fog. A name that made James's heart sink with a strange familiarity.
"Albert..."
James's eyes fluttered under his lids. "Who is Albert? Why do I keep hearing that name alongside mine?"
Simultaneously, Scorpius Malfoy's Hufflepuff ring began to pulse with a violent, golden light. A future glimpse surged into his mind, terrifying and vivid:
He saw James, his face etched with agony, stabbing Rose. He saw them locked in a lethal struggle for the Ravenclaw Gemstone, which sat between them, glowing with a purple-black shine. Frank lay unconscious on the scorched earth, and Bobby was covered in blood, looking gravely injured. Scorpius stood frozen, watching the destruction of his family.
"Save James and Rose, Scorpius!" a voice screamed in his dream. "Move, or you will lose them both!"
Scorpius sat bolt upright, gasping for air. He grabbed his water bottle and drained it, his hands shaking.
"What was that stupid dream?" he whispered, looking at his glowing ring. "Who is in real danger? James? Rose? Frank? Bobby? Is this a signal?"
He looked over at Miss Mirael, who was sleeping peacefully, and then at James's bag. He felt the weight of a destiny he didn't understand.
The Scent of Truth
Outside, near the river, Bobby woke up with a start. He found Elthira—the real Rose—sleeping a short distance away. As he approached to check on her, a familiar scent hit him. It wasn't the smell of damp earth or the metallic tang of a vampire.
It was the delicate, unmistakable scent of Rose's perfume.
Bobby stood frozen, his eyes wide with shock. "How is this possible? Vampires don't have a scent like this. This is Rose's perfume..."
As the 12 o'clock hour ticked by, the camp was a web of vows and suspicions. James vowed to save Hogwarts; Scorpius vowed to save his friends from his dark vision; and Bobby's suspicion of Elthira and the "Rose" in the tent turned into a cold, hard focus.
And in the center of it all, the Great Dark Lord Voldemort sat in the dark, truly terrified for the first time in his life—not of a hero, but of the relentless, disgusting love of Kael Nightshade.