In the Great Hall that morning, the noise reached Lucien before the smell of breakfast did.
"…and then the dream showed me the exact corridor," Ron was saying loudly, standing half up from the Gryffindor table, chest puffed out.
"It's like I've got prophecy talent, y'know?"
Several students listened. Some believed. Some rolled their eyes.
Lucien paused briefly before sitting down at the Hufflepuff table.
Angelina frowned first.
Akeno's expression cooled.
Penelope's fingers tightened slightly around her teacup.
Lucien didn't look at them—but his voice brushed their minds, calm and firm.
Don't say anything. Let it pass.
All three stiffened, then nodded subtly.
The truth stayed buried—deep, silent, and untouched.
Ron continued bragging, adding danger, mystery, and heroics that had never existed. Lucien ate his breakfast peacefully, utterly uninterested.
To him, Ron's voice was nothing more than background noise.
Days Passing
Ron's story evolved daily.
By the third retelling, the dream had "nearly killed him."
By the fifth, Hogwarts itself had "tested his worth."
Lucien never corrected him.
Meanwhile, life moved on.
Classes. Training. Laughter.
And then—
Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw
The Quidditch pitch roared.
Gold and black surged through the air like a storm.
Lucien moved effortlessly, controlling the field with clean passes and sharp positioning. Ravenclaw struggled to keep up.
When the final whistle blew, the scoreboard glowed:
Hufflepuff – 300
Ravenclaw – 30
The crowd erupted.
After the match, Cho Chang landed nearby, brushing windblown hair from her face, smiling—tired but genuine.
"Great game," she said.
"You're really something, Lucien."
Lucien smiled back, relaxed.
"You flew well. You'll beat me next time."
Cho blinked. "You sound confident."
He shook his head.
"Next year I won't be Hufflepuff's chaser."
Her smile faded instantly.
"Oh…"
Then Lucien added casually,
"But I'll help you train over the summer."
Cho's eyes widened.
"…Really?"
Lucien nodded.
"If you want."
Her disappointment vanished, replaced by a bright, unguarded smile.
"Thank you," she said softly.
She flew off lighter than she'd arrived.
Lucien watched her go—then turned away.
Hermione's Quiet Investigation
Hermione did not laugh at Ron's stories.
She watched.
Listened.
Compared details.
Late nights in the library followed. She reviewed dream magic, divination overlap, enchantment theory—anything that could explain the coincidence.
But there was nothing.
No residue.
No spells.
No traces.
Ron's dreams, by all recorded logic, were just… dreams.
And that unsettled her more than proof ever would have.
Hermione closed her book slowly.
"…That doesn't make sense," she murmured.
Across the hall, Lucien laughed softly with his friends, utterly relaxed.
Hermione watched him for a long moment.
And for the first time, she wondered—
What kind of person leaves no shadow behind… even when they move the world?