"What kind of foul sorcery is this?" the Shadow shrieked, her voice cracking like breaking glass as the colorful splatters of the tracking spell clung to her shifting, translucent form.
Allen didn't miss a beat, his wand arm steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "It's called a reliable tracking spell, though I usually find it a bit too flashy for my taste. Turns out, it's perfect for highlighting garbage. Petrificus Totalus!"
He snapped the curse with clinical precision, but the Shadow wasn't a physical entity governed by the laws of biology. She didn't freeze; instead, she dissolved into a swirling vortex of iridescent smoke, the colors of the tracking spell stretching and warping as she bypassed the jet of red light.
With a hiss of pure spite, the smoke lunged. It didn't go for Allen—it pivoted mid-air, aimed straight for the girl standing behind him.
"Luna, watch out! Impedimenta!" Allen roared, flicking his wand to create a slowing field.
"Protego!" Luna added, her voice remarkably calm as a shimmering blue dome erupted around her.
But the Shadow moved like a thought—weightless and unrestrained. She didn't break through the shields; she simply ignored them, slipping through the magical lattice as if it were nothing more than a gentle breeze.
"Get back!" Allen scrambled, physically shoving Luna behind his own frame, using his body as a human shield.
He felt the impact instantly. There was no physical weight, just a sudden, jarring cold that felt like falling into a frozen lake in the dead of night. The colorful smoke enveloped him, thick and suffocating, and the world began to tilt.
A wave of crushing dizziness washed over him. Allen's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching his head. It didn't feel like a punch; it felt like a rusted drill was being pressed against his temple, slowly boring its way into the seat of his consciousness.
The Shadow wasn't trying to bruise his skin; she was invading his soul.
Get out... Allen roared internally, slamming his mental gates shut.
But the invasion was relentless. He felt his breathing hitch, then stall. It was as if his lungs had been filled with lead. His chest felt tight, the pressure building until he thought his ribs would snap outward. Every nerve ending in his body began to sizzle with an agonizing, phantom fire. The pain was so sharp, so absolute, that his vision went white.
Is this it? he wondered through the fog of agony. Is this how I go out? As a hollow shell for a mirror ghost?
His oxygen was gone. He exhaled the last desperate bit of carbon dioxide, his chest burning with a fire that no water could douse. His limbs felt heavy, disconnected from his brain.
Should I use it? The Invincibility Aura... the trump card... The thought flickered in his mind like a dying candle. But just as he prepared to trigger the system's ultimate protection, a change occurred.
Behind his tightly clenched eyelids, the darkness wasn't black anymore. Tiny, pulsating specks of yellow light appeared, dancing like fireflies in a summer field. They grew brighter, spinning faster, soon joined by streaks of calming blue and vibrant, earthy green. The colors swirled into a frantic, beautiful dance, weaving a cocoon of light around his shivering body.
The burning sensation didn't just stop; it was overwritten. A cool, moisturizing wave of magic flowed through him, starting from his head and trickling down to his toes, washing away the Shadow's filth.
Allen gasped, his eyes snapping open. Through the kaleidoscope of dancing lights, he saw Sarah.
She wasn't the mourning spirit anymore. She stood tall, her translucent hands gripping a crystal ball that pulsed with an internal, rhythmic light. It was the twin to the one Allen had seen atop Helga's mirror—the source of the realm's power. She was chanting in a language that sounded less like words and more like the humming of the earth itself.
From Allen's own chest, the colorful smoke of the Shadow was being physically dragged out. It twisted and clawed at the air, trying to find purchase, but the vacuum of the crystal ball was absolute.
"NO—! SARAH, YOU FOOL! WE COULD HAVE BEEN GODS!"
With a final, echoing wail of pure terror and despair, the Shadow was sucked into the glass. The sphere flared with a blinding, chaotic mix of colors before settling into a steady, soft glow.
As the pressure vanished, Allen felt something heavy land in his palm. He looked down, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Three gems sat there, glowing with their own inner light. The deep, royal blue of Merlin's gem. The cunning, emerald green of Salazar's gem. And a new one—a warm, amber-yellow stone that felt like sunlight held in a rock.
"The Gem of Helga Hufflepuff," Sarah whispered. She was floating now, her feet inches off the white ground. The crystal ball in her hands was no longer clear; it was filled with a swirling, colorful mist—the merged essence of the spirit and her shadow.
"Helga's final wish was simple," Sarah continued, her voice echoing as if from a great distance. "She wanted this stone to find its way to a wizard of Hogwarts who possessed the loyalty to stand by a friend and the bravery to face their own reflection. Your performance in the mirror world was impressive, Allen, but it was the way you threw yourself into the path of the Shadow to protect Luna... that is the true heart of Hufflepuff."
Allen stared at the yellow gem, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. "I'm a Ravenclaw, Sarah. I'm not sure I fit the 'loyal and brave' mold of the Badgers."
Sarah laughed, a light, tinkling sound. "Labels are for those who live in boxes, Allen. Helga knew that true loyalty is found in the mind as much as the heart."
Perhaps, Allen thought privately, she was just tired. Tired of a thousand years of silence. Tired of the constant war with her own darker half. But as he looked at her, he saw only a serene, beautiful peace. She hadn't forgotten her duty; she had completed it.
Sarah's blue eyes sparkled with a joy he hadn't seen before. "My wish is finally at hand," she said, her voice lifting into a melody.
She began to sing. It was the same song from the mist, the one that had sounded so mournful before. But now, the notes were different. They were celebratory, a grand finale to a play that had run for far too many acts.
"Sarah? What are you doing?" Luna asked, her large eyes wide with reverence.
Sarah didn't answer with words. As she sang, the grey mists of the dimension began to surge toward her, drawn by the gravity of her magic. In the center of the storm, her blonde hair glowed like a beacon of pure gold.
Slowly, the oppressive grey mist began to crystallize. It transformed into soft, pure white snowflakes that spiraled around her in a gentle dance. The crystal ball in her hands cleared, becoming transparent once more, though it hummed with a newfound power.
Sarah stopped singing and looked down at them one last time. Snowflakes settled on her hair like tiny diamonds.
"Goodbye, Luna. Goodbye, Allen. Do not mourn for a spirit that has finally found her rest. I won't truly be gone; I'll be with you, in a way that never fades."
Before they could reach out, Sarah's form dissolved into a brilliant white mist. She didn't vanish into the air; she poured herself—every memory, every spark of light—into the crystal ball.
The sphere hovered for a second, the mist inside spinning at an impossible speed. Then, with a soft pop, the ball disintegrated.
"Sarah!" Luna cried, rushing forward through the thick, cold snow that now blanketed the floor.
They reached the spot where the spirit had stood. There was no glass, no mist. Only a small, palm-sized mirror lying face-down in the snow. On its silver back, words written in frost began to form.
To Allen.
As soon as Luna read the words aloud, the frost melted away, and the mirror flew up, nestling perfectly into Allen's hand.
Suddenly, the white world began to strobe. A blinding, vertical light enveloped them both, and the familiar, sickening sensation of a high-speed Portkey took hold. The world spun, the snow and the void blurring into a streak of white.
When Allen's boots finally hit solid earth, he stumbled, nearly falling over a familiar, hairy obstacle.
"WOOF!"
Fang was there, his massive tail thumping against Allen's leg. The air was different here—smelling of pine needles, damp earth, and Hagrid's woodsmoke. They were in the Forbidden Forest, just a stone's throw from the pumpkin patch.
The transition was so jarring that Allen just stood there for a moment, blinking at the trees. They were back. The real world. The mirror hadn't just released them; it had spat them back exactly where the nightmare had started.
Fang was busy sniffing the ground, his nose working overtime to catalog all the smells he'd missed while trapped in a world of glass.
"Fang, you big coward, you're okay," Allen breathed, patting the dog's head.
He turned to check on Luna, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring down at a massive, leather-bound book that looked as old as the castle itself.
"What's that?" Allen asked, stepping closer.
"Helga's personal grimoire," Luna said, her fingers tracing the embossed badger on the cover. "Sarah tucked it into my bag before the end. It's... quite something."
Allen leaned in, expecting to see ancient, forbidden combat magic. Instead, his eyes landed on a title: The Art of the Perfect Preservation Charm.
"Food spells?" Allen asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Not just food spells," Luna corrected, her eyes shining. "These are the foundations of the Hogwarts kitchens. Magic to keep things fresh forever, to multiply nutrition, to heal through what we eat. It's a masterpiece. I think I can get at least three special issues of The Quibbler out of this."
She tucked her wand behind her ear, looking perfectly at home despite the fact that she'd just been soul-snatched by an ancient shadow.
"By the way, Luna," Allen said as they began the long walk back toward Ravenclaw Tower, the castle's lights glowing in the distance. "What happened to your hair? The Shadow... it looked like she'd cut a chunk out of you."
Luna reached back and felt the missing patch, a small smile playing on her lips. "Oh, she didn't cut it. I did."
Allen stopped walking. "You what?"
"In the mirror world, the Shadow kept bragging about how she was my 'true self' and knew everything I was thinking," Luna explained nonchalantly. "So I challenged her. I cut off a handful of hair behind my back and told her that if she was truly me, she'd know exactly how many strands I was holding. If she got it right, I'd stop resisting. If she got it wrong, she had to leave me alone."
"And?"
"She guessed three thousand, four hundred and twenty-two," Luna said, gathering her remaining hair into a messy ponytail. "But I hadn't counted them either. So when she gave an answer, I told her she was wrong, and since neither of us knew the truth, she couldn't prove me a liar. She got so frustrated her logic circuits jammed."
Allen stared at her for a long beat, then burst into a genuine, delighted laugh. "Luna, you're a genius. Only a Ravenclaw would win a soul-battle with a math trap."
As they crossed the stone bridge toward the school, the weight of the three gems in his pocket felt a little lighter. They had survived the mirrors, they had saved a spirit, and they were going home.