HP: Black's Child

Quidditch Match — Gryffindor vs. Slytherin

Aster's eyes narrowed as he watched the match unfold. "How did Draco even become Seeker?" he muttered, voice low. He knew Draco wasn't skilled, certainly not enough to outfly Harry.

A bludger suddenly swung with unnerving precision toward Harry.

Ron, sitting beside him, shrugged with a cynical grin. "Looks like his dad bought the team some fancy brooms."

Aster shook his head. "Brooms don't win games. You need skill. Power. Talent. None of that matters if the team's weak."

Ron nodded, but Hermione barely looked up, absorbed in the book in her hands.

The bludger darted again, faster this time, locking onto Harry like a predator. Harry barely swerved in time, but the ball clipped his broom. He lost control, tumbling violently to the ground with a harsh thud.

The crowd gasped.

But the bludger wasn't finished.

It chased Harry on foot.

He rolled desperately, but the bludger smashed into his arm with a sickening crack.

A chorus of horror rippled through the stands.

Aster was already on his feet.

Hermione dropped her book and sprinted beside him, Ron close behind.

By the time they reached Harry, he was kneeling, clutching his arm, his face drained of color.

Lockhart burst onto the scene, wand raised dramatically. "Fear not, Harry! I shall fix this in a trice!"

"Wait—" Hermione started, but Lockhart was already casting.

"Brackium Emendo!"

A flash of blue light hit Harry's arm, and then it... deflated.

The crowd winced collectively.

Harry stared in disbelief as his arm hung limply, as if the bones had vanished.

Lockhart blinked, suddenly unsure.

Aster's lips twitched with disbelief. "You call that magic?"

Hermione's voice was barely a whisper. "He... removed the bones."

Aster muttered, sharp and low, "I knew his books were full of lies, but this? Even his magic is a sham. How has no one noticed?"

Lockhart laughed nervously, stepping back. "Well, sometimes magic can be unpredictable!"

Madam Hooch arrived in a flurry, pushing Lockhart aside, while Ron carefully helped Harry to his feet, supporting the useless arm.

Aster's gaze lingered on Lockhart—cold, unreadable.

One thought burned quietly in his mind: This man should never be allowed near students.

————————————————————————————————————

Midnight in the Corridors

The castle slept, but the stones whispered secrets.

Aster moved through the dark corridor with measured steps, timing the prefect patrols perfectly before slipping out.

Suddenly, the air shifted.

A voice seeped through the walls—not spoken, but felt. Low, hungry, ancient.

Aster's breath caught. Even the Umbrawing raven perched silently on his shoulder shivered.

"Let me rip… tear… kill…"

Seconds passed before the voice faded.

Aster froze, then crept toward the corner near the Hospital Wing.

Footsteps approached.

Two figures emerged from the shadows.

Dumbledore's cloak whispered across the stone floor, McGonagall beside him, her lips tight with worry.

"Here," McGonagall said softly. "Just outside the infirmary. He must have been coming to see Potter."

On the cold floor lay Colin Creevey, frozen in terror. His camera lay shattered nearby, smoke curling from the cracked casing.

"Petrified," McGonagall breathed. "Like the cat. Like the legends…"

Dumbledore knelt, examining Colin's pupils and the camera.

"Burned from the inside out. Caught the reflection, perhaps…"

Silence fell between them, heavy and thick.

The Hospital Wing, Later

Harry slept, arm wrapped in bandages, limp and useless beneath the cloth.

Aster stood over him, quiet and unreadable.

Harry woke up to see Aster standing beside his bed.

Fear flickered in Harry's eyes, but Aster's next words surprised him.

"Yo," Aster said. "Hope you get well before the next game, I guess?"

Harry nodded, still unsure if he could fully trust Aster.

Aster continued, "Seems like the boy, Creevey, was attacked just outside here. I think he was stalking you…" He paused, watching the blood drain from Harry's face.

"Still, I find it suspicious. Why was he attacked? The only conclusion I can come to is this: Someone else was the real target, and Colin just happened to be in the way…" Aster said seriously.

Without another word, Aster slipped away through the door, leaving Harry sitting in quiet confusion, warm in the blankets, but cold beneath the skin.

————————————————————————————————————

Days Later — Hogwarts corridor

Aster didn't sleep.

Between classes, he caught glimpses—shapes moving near the forest.

Creatures like horses, but not. Skeletal, leathery, and shadow-woven, their hollow eyes grazing on empty air.

He thought he was hallucinating because he wasn't sleeping well. He tried to wipe his eyes, but the creatures were still there.

He narrowed his eyes. "How did I miss them last year?" Unease stirred beneath his calm.

That evening, after classes, Aster walked toward the edge of the forest.

The air was crisp, heavy with silence. The strange creatures noticed him first. They stepped toward him, slowly, deliberately, as if they recognized something in him.

He stood still.

Their hollow eyes met his.

Then—

Steps.

Soft behind him, yet deliberate.

"So," a dreamy voice said, "is it true?"

Aster turned sharply.

A girl stood a few steps away. She had long, straggly, waist-length blonde hair, pale eyebrows almost invisible against her skin, and large silvery eyes that never seemed to blink. She looked at him, not just at him, but through him.

"True?" he asked, voice cautious.

"About your death. And resurrection."She tilted her head. "I heard it from a Weasley. The younger ones talk when they think no one's listening."

Aster froze. His mind flickered, cold water, shallow and endless, a place where sound died. He inhaled sharply, jaw tight.

"I can see them too," the girl said gently, motioning toward the creatures." They only show themselves to those who've seen death. Not just lost someone. Not grief. Actual death."

He said nothing. He didn't trust his voice.

Then, without warning, she stepped forward and hugged him.

It was light, strange, brief. Yet comforting.

Aster stiffened... then didn't move. Was this what people called a stranger's hug? He thought.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice soft and distant. "It's good you're still alive."

The words made something ache.

When they parted, he studied her carefully.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Luna Lovegood," she replied, voice as light as fog. "You're Aster Evans Black. And I think you're lonelier than people realize."

Then, as if nothing more needed to be said, she turned and walked away.

Her hair drifted like mist.

Aster remained, staring at the Thestrals. They stared back.

The silence between them somehow felt easier than the weight Luna's words had left behind.

Aster walked into the Great Hall, calm but heavy, his body weighing him down. I have to sleep, he thought, but sleep only brought the same relentless dream.

'Maybe... I shouldn't have come back.'

Luna's words echoed softly in his mind: "It's good you're still alive."

The Gryffindor table was as noisy as ever. Hermione was the first to spot his exhausted face, her eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Aster didn't answer.

Harry glanced at him, avoiding direct eye contact, but said, "Tomorrow is Defense Against the Dark Arts... You need to get some rest tonight."

Harry knew. Knew that Aster hadn't slept properly since his death. He still feared that Aster, or the shadow of Voldemort, might take control again.

Hermione moved toward Pansy and whispered something urgently. Aster didn't look their way.

But when they returned, Pansy grabbed Aster's arm firmly."Okay, we need to do something," she said, pulling him along while waving at Hermione.

Nyx's voice was calm but firm, directed at Hermione, "He's healing… but slowly. Give him some time."

Pansy dragged Aster into the Slytherin common room, a small smile playing on her lips. She liked the feeling of control, of having someone this important leaning on her.

They stopped abruptly, and Aster glanced up, voice tired but curious. "What do you need, Pansy?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she sat down on the worn sofa and motioned for him to sit down, offering her lap as a pillow. "You. Rest. Now."

Aster thought it ridiculous, but his eyelids were heavy, and before long, he surrendered to sleep.

Moments later, the door creaked open, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stepped in.

"Oh? Dating already? Do your parents know, Pansy?" Draco sneered, clearly trying to provoke.

Pansy didn't flinch. "They know. Don't worry about it."

Draco slammed a fist on the sofa, aiming to wake Aster.

Suddenly, Nyx appeared, her shadow stretching just enough to make Draco pause.

In Aster's voice, cold and sharp, she hissed, "Still mimicking your father, Draco?"

Draco scowled and reached for his wand, but Pansy shot out a firm "No!" and gently helped Aster onto the sofa.

"Get out," she said, eyes blazing. "Go, before you disturb him again."

The three boys grudgingly left. Pansy stayed a moment, then went back to check on Aster, only to find the common room empty.

—————————————————————————————

The cold stone walls of the corridor seemed to ripple and shift, the ancient paintings on the sides twisting and moving like living things. A blur of colors and shapes swept past him as he ran, faster than his legs should carry him, his breath shallow but steady.

A flicker of torchlight blurred, then vanished.

Suddenly, the stone walls gave way to soft earth and petals.

He stumbled into the Hogwarts garden, where wildflowers swayed gently in a breeze he couldn't feel.

On his arm rested a petite, red-haired girl. He didn't need to see her face to know it was Ginny.

And something over his should.