The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

At Hogwarts, the rhythm of the school year moved with the seasons—starting in September, blooming with curiosity and the rustle of books, maturing through the trials of midterms and assignments. And now, after three months of lessons, whispers, spells, and snow-dusted nights, the castle exhaled into a much-needed winter break.

The Hogwarts Express hissed gently at King's Cross Station, steam billowing as students began to disembark, bundled in coats and scarves, laughter echoing around Platform 9¾.

Caelum Sanguine stepped off the train in his usual dark attire, the hood of his cloak down for once, letting the crisp winter sun touch his pale skin. He adjusted the strap of his satchel and moved slightly to the side, making way for his housemates.

Evran Thorne came next, yawning as he hefted his own bag over his shoulder. Bastian Flint followed, brushing soot from his coat sleeve.

"Well," Bastian said, grinning, "we survived the first term. You should visit sometime—Dad won't mind."

"I'll see what I can do," Caelum replied with a small, rare smile.

Evran gave an awkward wave. "Happy Christmas, Caelum."

"Same to you."

With that, the two boys melted into the flow of students and parents. Caelum turned toward the exit arch, his golden eyes scanning the crowd.

And then—he saw her.

Amelia Bones, wrapped in a smart navy cloak with a silver brooch clasped at her throat, stood tall as always, yet her eyes softened the moment she spotted him. She gave him a brisk nod, but as he neared, she broke into a warm smile and pulled him into a quick hug.

"You've gotten taller," she murmured, brushing a speck of snow from his shoulder.

"So have you," Caelum replied dryly, and Amelia laughed.

"No talking back to your guardian," she teased, then added more gently, "I've missed you."

"…It's good to be home," Caelum said, and he meant it.

They walked together toward the barrier, Amelia placing a hand lightly on his back.

Back at the Bones' countryside home, Susan was already waiting at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. At only nine years old, her hair was always coming loose from its ribbons, and her smile could melt snow.

"Did you see the Great Hall? Do the ceiling really change with the sky? Did you meet a ghost? Are the beds really that high?"

Caelum laughed—soft but real—and let her drag him inside. For nearly an hour, he answered every single question she could throw at him, from the size of the Slytherin common room to what pumpkin juice actually tasted like, to which he responded, "surprisingly decent".

After a warm dinner—complete with Bridget's roasted chicken and Susan's nonstop chatter about everything Caelum might have forgotten to tell her—Caelum found himself curled up on one end of the living room sofa, a soft blanket tucked over his legs, the Daily Prophet opened across his lap. The fire crackled steadily nearby, casting flickering amber light across the room.

He turned a page, skimming past headlines about a recent werewolf sighting in the north and some nonsense about Quidditch politics. As usual, he scanned for any whisper of the Avery or Rosier families—nothing yet.

Soft footsteps padded in from the hall.

Amelia entered, dressed now in her more comfortable evening robes, a steaming mug of tea in hand. Without a word, she crossed the room and eased herself down beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his.

"Has Susan finished interrogating you?" she asked lightly, her tone warm with affection.

Caelum gave a small, tired smile, folding the newspaper in half and resting it on his lap. "Just one term, and I'm already running out of stories."

Amelia chuckled. "You've only got six more years to go."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling fire. Then, slowly, Amelia turned a little to face him, her voice softening.

"Caelum," she began, "how are you really doing? At school."

His eyes, golden and reflective in the firelight, lifted to meet hers.

"You know something already," he said—not accusing, just calm and precise. "From the professors?"

She nodded. "Professor Flitwick wrote to me. And… I've heard things from the Ministry. There was talk—rumors at the beginning of the term. Flyers. Silas Avery." She hesitated. "They say it was dealt with, but I know better than to think it's over. I wanted to ask you directly. Not as a report. As your guardian."

Caelum leaned back into the cushions, the warmth of the fire soaking into his skin. For a moment, he didn't speak. When he did, it was slow, deliberate.

"It wasn't great. At first. People stared. Whispered. Treated me like… like I wasn't supposed to be there. Like a danger." His voice remained steady. "It's getting better, a little. Some students are starting to see me for what I am. What I'm not."

She was watching him carefully. When he paused, she asked, "Are you lonely?"

He thought about that, then gave a faint shrug. "Not really. I have Evran and Bastian. They're good to me. And… there's another student. Vesper. She's strange, but sharp. And honest."

Amelia nodded slowly. "I just don't want you to carry it all by yourself."

"I'm used to it," he said softly.

"You shouldn't have to be."

There was a long silence between them. Then Amelia leaned over and gently rested her head on his shoulder.

"You don't have to prove you're good enough to be loved, Caelum," she murmured. "You already are."

Caelum didn't reply, but his fingers lightly curled around the edge of the blanket.

After a while, Amelia gave a small sigh and smiled.

"Alright. Enough heavy talk. I've got a meeting early tomorrow. And Susan will expect another Hogwarts tale."

"She's already asked for a secret passage story," Caelum said dryly. "I might have to invent one."

Amelia laughed as she rose from the sofa. "Just don't teach her anything I'll regret."

She gave his shoulder a gentle pat before heading down the hall, the fire crackling behind her.

Caelum leaned back again, his golden eyes watching the flames dance.

Snow began to fall outside.