Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

The air grew colder with every step.

Cael had been walking for nearly an hour now, following a narrow, damp tunnel that twisted beneath the Château de Gisors. The soft blue glow from his wand barely pierced the thick darkness ahead. The stone walls were old—older than the castle above. Older than any living memory.

Eventually, the tunnel widened. The oppressive corridor gave way to a vast underground chamber, its ceiling lost in the dark. And there, at the far end, stood a door.

It was massive—twice the height of a man and carved into a semicircle of age-blackened stone. Symbols, diagrams, and strange runic sigils covered its surface. They pulsed faintly, not with light, but with the subtle hum of old magic. Cael approached in silence, awe and anticipation mingling in his chest. The closer he got, the clearer it became that this was not just any magical seal. This was ancient—council-era or older.

He reached out and traced the curves of one of the sigils, fingers brushing over the stone. Dust fell from beneath his touch. At the center of the door, a circular indentation hinted at some kind of key—though what kind, he couldn't yet say.

Then something else caught his eye. Around the chamber, partially hidden behind crates, stones, and rusted alchemical equipment, were signs of disturbance. Scattered parchments. A broken lantern. Dried boot prints in the dust.

Cael crouched, brushing aside a parchment fragment. A seal on the corner read: Département des Mystères Magiques, République Française.

They found this place, Cael realized. They've been studying it… maybe for years.

He tilted his head toward the door. And still couldn't open it.

It amused him, in a way. All their resources, their research, and yet here it remained—untouched.

He examined the door again. The runes were scrambled, misaligned. At a glance, they looked like nonsense, a deliberate defense. But he recognized them. These weren't just council-era runes. Some of them predated even Myrddin's time. The language of the first rune-smiths, one he had come to understand only after poring through the forbidden tomes at Black Manor.

The symbols weren't locked. They were jumbled—upside down, mirrored, and reversed. A puzzle.

He got to work.

One by one, he began to realign the sigils. His wand hovered over each, whispering the correction incantations, rotating glyphs into proper order, adjusting orientation. The magic reacted subtly. Not with light or noise, but with the shifting of energy in the air—like a breath held in a room suddenly exhaled.

As he was finishing the penultimate sigil, he froze.

Voices.

Footsteps echoed from the tunnel behind him. Cael pressed against the side wall, wand drawn, eyes narrowed.

The voices were French. He couldn't understand most of it—but the tone was unmistakable: alarmed, urgent.

"Je te jure, je l'ai vu—un garçon, il s'est transformé d'un chat en humain et est entré ici!"("I swear, I saw him- a boy, he transformed from a cat into a human and entered

Here!")

"Encore tes hallucinations, Maurice? Comme la dernière fois où tu pensais avoir ouvert la porte?"("Still your hallucinations, Maurice?

Like the last time you thought you

opened the door?")

Cael couldn't make sense of the words, but he heard one thing clearly: chat. Cat.

They saw me. They saw me transform.

His heart quickened. A moment later, a beam of magical light swept through the tunnel. Two figures emerged—wands raised, robes marked faintly with the insignia of the French magical authorities.

"Arrêtez! Ne bougez pas!" one shouted. "Les mains en l'air!"("Stop! Don't move!"

"Hands in the air!")

The other followed immediately, pulling what looked like a magical stun-gun from beneath his coat. They weren't taking chances.

Cael didn't understand the words—but he didn't need to. Their meaning was loud and clear.

Don't move or we'll shoot.

He turned quickly, hand shaking slightly as he traced the final rune. With a whispered command, the symbol shifted into place.

And then, the door responded.

With a heavy groan that vibrated through the stone floor, the massive door split down the middle. A blinding white light burst from within—intense, pure, ancient. The guards shouted in surprise, shielding their eyes. Cael didn't hesitate.

He ran forward and crossed the threshold into the light.

The moment he passed through, the door slammed shut with a thunderous boom, sealing behind him like a tomb.

The chamber was silent again.

Outside, the two Aurors lowered their arms, blinking rapidly as their vision slowly returned.

"Who was he?" one muttered, breath catching in his throat.

"I… I didn't see his face. He wore a hood. But he looked young."

"Young? That child opened the door? This door?"

The other swallowed. "We have to inform the Ministry. Now. And the Department of Mysteries."

"And what do we even tell them?" the first said, rubbing his temple. "That someone opened the door we've been guarding for decades? That some hooded child figured out what no scholar, cursebreaker, or Unspeakable could?"

His companion stared at the sealed stone. "They'll want our memories. You know that, right?"

"I know. So remember everything. Every word. Every step. Don't forget. Don't embellish."

They nodded grimly to each other, turned, and began the long ascent back to the surface.

The door remained still behind them, its magic quietly humming once again.

And within the chamber beyond, Cael stepped forward, eyes adjusting to the strange white glow,but what he saw shocked him a little bit too much.

"Bloody Hell "