The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

The first week of term passed in its usual rhythm—new schedules, refreshed energy, and still, the lingering hush of winter air pressing against the windows of Hogwarts. Caelum had mostly kept to his usual path: attentive in class, quiet at meals, and quick to vanish when the day's work was done.

After Thursday's double-period Potions class with Griffindor, as the other students began filing out of the classroom, Professor Snape's voice cut through the idle chatter like a blade.

"Sanguine. Remain."

Evran gave Caelum a brief glance before leaving. Caelum simply nodded and walked toward the front of the room, where Snape was already scribbling something in a thick leather-bound book.

Once the room was empty, Snape closed the tome with a soft thud and turned toward him.

"After dinner," he said flatly, "Come to my office. Don't be late."

Caelum nodded once. "Yes, Professor."

Snape's eyes narrowed a fraction, but he said nothing more as Caelum left the room.

…

Later that evening, Caelum stood before the door marked Professor Severus Snape, tucked into the shadowed corridor near the dungeons. He knocked.

"Enter."

The room inside was dimly lit, the air thick with a mix of sharp herbs and warm spice. Vials and jars lined the walls, their contents glowing faintly. A large desk sat near the center, and beside it, a table cluttered with potion samples and runes etched into metal.

Caelum quietly stepped in, taking it all in—the private potion lab of a master. It was functional, yes, but there was a certain precision in the placement of every item. This was no classroom. This was a workshop of quiet rigor and discipline.

Snape looked up from a parchment.

"Take a seat."

Caelum did.

Snape leaned back in his chair. "The other professors have submitted their evaluations of your work thus far. It seems you've made quite.., the impression."

He paused, letting the words settle. "There is a proposal," he continued, "to adjust your coursework—more advanced assignments, a tailored curriculum. Personally, I find it excessive. You're gifted, but not infallible."

Caelum said nothing, but met the professor's gaze evenly.

Snape gave a slight nod of approval. "Still, I have approved it. Do not make me regret it, Sanguine. You may have some talents, but even talent without control is wasted potential."

"I understand."

Snape stood then, adjusting his cloak. "Good. Now, follow me. The Headmaster wishes to speak with you."

Without another word, the Potions Master swept from the office, Caelum following silently behind.

…

They ascended from the dungeons to the upper levels, where torchlight turned the walls golden in the gloom of evening. At the top of a spiral staircase, Snape stopped before a familiar statue.

"Fizzing Whizzbee," he said sharply.

The stone staircase behind the statue whirred to life, spiralling upward. Caelum followed Snape into the circular office of the Hogwarts Headmaster.

It was warmer than he expected—lined with hundreds of shelves laden with ancient books, peculiar instruments that ticked and hummed with quiet magic, and portraits of former headmasters dozing in their frames beneath layers of dust and time.

Near the tall arched window stood a radiant creature—Fawkes, the phoenix—his feathers aglow with a soft, inner fire. A phoenix: bearer of the Flame of Life, the only known creature capable of surviving the Killing Curse.

Caelum paused, drawn instinctively toward the creature's quiet majesty

But then—

A brush of something… not quite physical.

A chill down his spine. A whisper at the edge of thought.

He turned, sharply. And there stood Albus Dumbledore, his blue eyes bright, watching him from the far corner of the room. Calm. Measuring.

"You sensed that," the Headmaster said softly, stepping forward. "Impressive."