Julian dug deeper into that section on magical creatures and found a passage that made him sit up straighter.
According to the book, one of the species most heavily altered by wizards over time was not dragons or hippogriffs, but Thestrals.
A long time ago, the skeletal horse creatures had not only been visible to everyone, they had actively wanted to be seen. Thestrals would appear near those on the verge of death, standing close to the dying, and at the exact moment of passing they would cry out, a chilling, mournful sound, before fading away.
People, of course, drew the worst possible conclusion.
Many believed the creatures were literally stealing or carrying off the souls of the newly dead. Panic followed, then fear, and predictably, witch hunts. Thestrals were hunted ruthlessly.
The species adapted.
Over generations, they evolved to avoid humans far more effectively, using the last lingering thread of their connection to death to hide themselves from almost everyone. Only those who had both seen and understood death could perceive them now.
Well, that explains the weird kinship I felt, Julian thought, exhaling slowly. We are both tied to death in a pretty literal way, it seems.
He was under no illusions that permanently dying on his original version of Earth had not left some mark on his very being. Something had reached into that void, plucked him out, and dropped him into this world with a fully functioning system attached. Complex constructs like that did not just spontaneously appear out of nowhere.
I just wish I knew what it wants from me, he thought, a little grimly.
He was about halfway through the fundamentals book at this point when a familiar bush of hair appeared near the stairs. To his quiet amusement, Hermione actually woke up a little late that morning. From the tired look on her face and the shadows under her eyes, she had not slept well at all.
Probably spent half the night failing my version of Lumos, Julian guessed.
She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone when she saw him reading, but did not say anything. She just turned away and left the common room for the Great Hall.
Harry woke up not long after, and soon the two boys headed down together for breakfast.
...
Julian had already decided that, in a sense, he was going to start pulling back from Harry's side. His presence was twisting the storyline pretty severely, and some things needed to unfold more or less as they had in the books. He was not Harry's tagalong; he had his own goals.
He needed Harry and Hermione to eventually end up on the same wavelength, working together, and that was harder to accomplish when he was always between them.
The start of next week promised a convenient turning point. If all went well and the twins came through with the furnace in time, he would be able to start forging rings again and have a real excuse to disappear into his workshop for hours at a time. Fate and the castle would get more room to push certain events back onto their general track.
This first year, he wanted things to end roughly the same as they had in the books. The second year, too, should follow that familiar pattern, save for a few small deviations he did not mind causing.
The third year, though, was where he planned to actively wrench fate off its rails. Over the summer, he intended to begin the process of getting Sirius acquitted.
Once Sirius was free, that might disrupt the set pieces of fourth year. If it did not, Julian had something particularly nasty in mind for Voldemort's resurrection plan.
The Goblet of Fire's contract was a form of name magic, binding whoever's name it spat out as champion. Julian had identified a loophole.
He could create a pair of rings that swapped the "target" name between him and whoever wore the partner ring. In other words, he could arrange it so that when the Goblet drew Harry's name, it would actually grab Julian instead.
On paper, it would look like Julian was the unexpected fourth Triwizard champion. The moment his name came out, it would be obvious someone had tried to play games with Harry's entry. That alone should be enough to get Dumbledore on high alert and keep Harry better protected.
The best part was that no one would know in advance.
Only when the Goblet spat out Julian's name would anyone realize something strange had happened. Not even Harry would know about the trick until it was too late to undo.
...
During breakfast, Neville received his Remembrall from his grandmother, along with a letter that left him looking conflicted and unsure.
Malfoy, naturally, could not resist sticking his nose in. Just like in the books, he snatched the Remembrall and started swaggering away with it, clearly intending to pocket it.
This time, he did not get far.
Professor McGonagall stepped in almost immediately, drawn over not by one or two protests, but by the sudden surge of hostile energy at the Gryffindor table.
It was not just Harry and Ron jumping up to defend Neville. Almost the entire table tensed, hands drifting toward wands as they prepared to go for Malfoy if he did not give it back.
The Slytherin boy, oblivious to the mutiny he had nearly sparked, was spared a mass hexing only by McGonagall's timely intervention.
...
After breakfast came flying lessons with Slytherin, and things unfolded in a familiar pattern, if with a few added details.
Julian and Harry met up with Tracey and Daphne again before the lesson started. The first thing the girls did was complain about how little sleep they had gotten.
"Your spell is entirely to blame," Tracey groaned.
"My house would not let us rest until they had pestered us to exhaustion about it," Daphne added, looking tired but resigned.
"You probably bragged out loud about knowing how to cast it, did you not?" Julian asked mildly.
Both girls went quiet and looked away at exactly the same time.
"Then do not complain to me about the consequences of your actions," Julian said, and they both flushed, clearly embarrassed.
"So," he asked, curiosity sparking, "how many people in your house managed to figure it out yesterday?"
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