Dark Wings Over Hogwarts

The afternoon sun cast golden hues over the Hogwarts training grounds, stretching the shadows of dueling students as they faced off against one another. The sharp crackle of spellfire echoed in the crisp autumn air, accompanied by the occasional grunt of exertion.

Zane Falconer stood at the center of it all, his gaze watchful, his stance relaxed yet commanding. His fourth-year students had improved, though not nearly enough for his liking. Dueling wasn't just about memorizing spells—it was about instinct, adaptability, and control. And today's session had proven that most of them still had a long way to go.

With a flick of his wand, he ended the last demonstration, smoothly countering a spell launched his way and disarming the student in a single, fluid motion. The wand flew from the boy's grasp, spinning in the air before Zane caught it effortlessly.

"Again," he instructed, tossing the wand back. "But this time, don't telegraph your movements. Magic isn't just in the wand—it's in the intent."

The student gulped but nodded, determination flashing across his face.

Zane moved along the rows of students, offering corrections with the same calm, measured tone. "Sterling, your reaction time is too slow. Anticipate, don't just respond. Bennett, your stance is too rigid—being firm isn't the same as being immovable. Magic flows. Your body should too."

The students listened intently, absorbing every word. Even those who hadn't dueled that day took mental notes, whispering amongst themselves about his prowess.

As Zane wrapped up the session, he cast a final glance toward the edge of the field. He didn't react outwardly, but he was well aware of the hidden presence that had been lingering there.

She thinks she's invisible.

He didn't turn his head, didn't give any sign that he had noticed—but he knew. Isla Rosier had been observing him for quite some time now. And while she was skilled at concealment, she was not skilled enough to deceive him.

He let his amusement remain hidden, dismissing the students with a simple, "Class dismissed."

---

A Cryptic Letter

By the time Isla Rosier reached the Hogwarts library, the hallways had mostly emptied, leaving behind only the occasional student hurrying to their next destination. Isla moved with the fluid grace of someone who preferred not to be noticed, slipping between the bookshelves with ease.

She reached a secluded corner and carefully unsealed the letter she had received earlier, her sharp eyes scanning the contents.

> Dearest Isla,

You always were too curious for your own good.

Zane Falconer is an anomaly. No official records exist before his Hogwarts tenure, and his past remains obscured. However, what little we do know is troubling. He has taken missions under different aliases, often involving high-risk espionage and combat. Some of our older associates recall his skills but have no concrete details about his background.

Be careful. Do not engage too soon. If necessary, we will gather more information.

— Your Uncle Cassius

A slow breath left her lips as she read the words again.

No official records? Multiple aliases? High-risk missions?

She had expected her family to uncover something, but this… this suggested deliberate erasure. Someone had ensured that Zane Falconer's past remained buried.

Isla tapped the parchment against her fingers, her mind racing.

Who are you, Zane Falconer?

She had always prided herself on uncovering secrets. It was what made her different from the rest of her family. While the Rosiers dealt in power and influence, she dealt in knowledge. And knowledge was power.

If even her family's network couldn't fully trace his past, then Zane Falconer wasn't just dangerous—he was a ghost.

And ghosts always had unfinished business.

---

Secrets in the Shadows

As she made her way through the dimly lit corridors, lost in thought, voices caught her attention. Familiar voices.

Instinctively, Isla pressed herself against the wall, her body slipping into the shadows.

"...I still don't like this, Minerva," came Professor Sprout's hushed but urgent voice. "Keeping something so dangerous inside the school is just asking for trouble."

"This is Dumbledore's decision," McGonagall's voice was firm but carried a weariness to it. "And we all know he wouldn't do so without a good reason."

"Even so," came Flitwick's softer tone, "it's unsettling that Falconer arrived at the same time. Surely that's not just coincidence?"

Isla's breath hitched.

Even the professors are suspicious of him?

She leaned in closer, heart pounding.

"And what about the third floor?" Sprout whispered. "What if someone finds out?"

McGonagall sighed. "Then let's hope no one is foolish enough to go looking."

Their footsteps faded down the corridor, leaving Isla frozen in place.

Something dangerous was hidden inside Hogwarts. The professors were wary. And somehow, Zane Falconer was at the center of their concerns.

Isla's fingers curled around her parchment.

Her instincts had been right.

Zane Falconer wasn't just another skilled professor. He was a man with a past—one that even the most powerful wizards couldn't fully uncover.

And whatever Hogwarts was hiding, she had a feeling he was already two steps ahead of her.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips.

Good. She loved a challenge.