As the enchanted black car moved through the countryside, far away from the noise and clutter of London, Elias leaned back into the comfortable seat and watched the rolling green hills fade into the darker forested landscape that surrounded the Blackthorn ancestral lands.
The air grew heavier with ancient magic the closer they came to the manor—a presence that seemed to acknowledge his return. When the gates of Blackthorn Manor finally loomed into view, wrought iron shaped like thorned vines and phoenix feathers, Elias felt a quiet sense of belonging settle into his bones.
The manor was as imposing as ever—tall towers, stone walls covered with dark ivy, and elegant windows that glowed faintly with warding magic. It was a fortress masquerading as a home. And it was his.
The car came to a smooth stop at the front steps. A line of house-elves bowed low as Lucian and Elias exited.
"Welcome home, Young Master," the eldest elf greeted with a squeaky but respectful tone.
Elias nodded slightly, already striding toward the entrance with his father at his side. Once inside, the chill in the air was replaced with the comforting warmth of a roaring fireplace in the main hall. High ceilings stretched above them, decorated with moving tapestries that told the story of the Blackthorn lineage—ancient duels, magical conquests, and secret pacts made in candlelit chambers.
Lucian removed his cloak and handed it to an elf. Then, turning to Elias, he asked, "Do you want to freshen up or speak first?"
"I'll speak first," Elias said, eyes calm and steady. He'd been waiting for this moment.
They walked together into Lucian's private study—lined with shelves of dark wood and ancient books, a place of quiet planning and political maneuvering. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, Lucian gestured toward a high-backed leather chair across from his desk.
As Elias sat down, Lucian poured himself a drink, then paused. "Before we begin, your mother isn't here."
Elias tilted his head. "Where is she?"
"She's been promoted," Lucian said, his voice carrying a quiet note of pride. "The International Confederation of Wizards needed someone with her expertise, and she was the natural choice. She's in Paris now, dealing with diplomatic work. Should return within the week."
Elias nodded. "I'll be sure to greet her when she returns."
Lucian sat behind the desk, folding his hands. "Now… I assume you didn't simply come home to rest. What are your intentions this summer?"
Elias's eyes glinted with ambition.
"I want to visit Egypt," he said calmly. "Not for sightseeing. There are magical ruins and hidden catacombs the locals rarely speak of. Some predate Hogwarts. I believe there are rituals and wards worth studying—older than the British magical curriculum acknowledges."
Lucian arched a brow. "You've done your research."
"Of course," Elias replied. "I don't want to waste time. My goal is to refine my magic—not just increase power, but control, understanding, precision."
Lucian leaned back in his chair, tapping a finger against his chin.
"You're thinking like a true Blackthorn. Good." Then his expression became more calculating. "You'll need permits to study the restricted ruins. I can pull a few strings with the Cairo branch of the International Department. But some of the deeper tombs… you'll need to be careful. There are curses that don't care how powerful you are."
"I won't go alone," Elias said. "I'll take two of the senior house-elves—Varren and Kith. They know how to navigate cursed terrain."
Lucian smiled faintly. "Wise choice."
He stood and moved toward a nearby cabinet, opening it to reveal a thick roll of aged parchment. Unfurling it across the table, he pointed to a series of marked regions near the Valley of the Kings.
"This is where you'll begin. The Ministry tolerates research in these outer tombs, but anything past here—" he tapped deeper into the map, "—is considered forbidden. That's where the true knowledge sleeps. But it's also where most fools die."
Elias studied the map silently, already beginning to plan his approach.
The days following Elias's arrival back at Blackthorn Manor passed in quiet preparation.
The manor's stone halls, once echoing with the stern discipline of ancient wards, now held a more expectant air. Elias spent most of his time either in the library—poring over records of magical ruins in North Africa—or in the dueling chamber beneath the manor, refining his precision spells. His father had given him space, perhaps sensing the mental clarity Elias preferred before undertaking something important.
But today was different.
There was a subtle shift in the air. The house-elves moved with a touch more urgency, dusting picture frames and polishing sconces that had already gleamed the day before. Elias didn't need to ask why.
She was returning.
By late afternoon, the sky outside had shifted to a cool silver. A storm was brewing far away, but the wards of the manor kept the chill at bay. Elias stood at the foot of the marble staircase, straight-backed, as the enchanted doors of the manor slowly opened.
Wind swept in.
And then she stepped through.
Lady Seraphina Blackthorn, formidable in black dragon-hide robes embroidered with gold runes, stood at the threshold with the calm authority of someone who had just negotiated international magic policies in Paris—and won.
She was striking, with long dark hair bound neatly at the nape of her neck and cool, intelligent eyes that swept over the grand hall until they landed on Elias.
Her expression softened immediately.
"Elias," she said, voice smooth as ever, but rich with warmth.
"Mother," Elias replied, stepping forward with poise—but even he could not keep the faint smile from touching his lips.
Seraphina embraced him—not stiffly, not delicately, but fully, arms wrapped around his shoulders, the kind of embrace only a mother could give after months of separation.
"You've grown more than just taller," she murmured, pulling back slightly. "Your magic is different. Sharper."
"I've trained. And observed. Hogwarts offers far more opportunity than it appears," Elias said simply.
Seraphina smiled, glancing toward the upper balcony where Lucian now stood, watching them with his arms folded, a pleased gleam in his eye.
"Your father tells me your year ended with... dramatic events."
Elias gave her a measured look. "Let's just say certain professors lost track of what they were guarding."
Seraphina arched a brow. "And you found what they were guarding?"
There was no accusation in her tone, only understanding.
"I secured it—for future research," Elias replied calmly. "There's more to it than just alchemy. But that's not my focus for the moment."
Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and approval, but she didn't press. "So what is your focus?"
"Egypt," Elias replied. "The tombs. I believe there's knowledge there—knowledge predating our British traditions. I want to study them. Learn what lies forgotten."
Seraphina took a breath, nodding slowly. "The Egyptian magical dynasties practiced soul-bound spells , elemental contracts, magic tied to celestial cycles. Dangerous and old."
"I'm prepared," Elias said. "I've already spoken with Father. He's making arrangements for travel clearance. I'll be taking Varren and Kith."
"Good," Seraphina said. "They're clever enough to survive even the ancient tombs… and loyal enough to protect you without hesitation."
She looked him over, noting the calm in his posture, the quiet intensity behind his words. There was no arrogance. Only certainty.
"You're not the same boy I sent to Hogwarts last September," she said quietly.
"I wasn't the same boy even then," Elias said, meeting her eyes. "Hogwarts simply helped sharpen what was already waiting."
She nodded, stepping beside him as they walked together toward the inner sitting room.
"I saw Cornelius Fudge while in Paris," Seraphina said conversationally as they walked. "He was mumbling about a 'certain boy at Hogwarts' who made Dumbledore lose his temper during the end-of-year feast."
Elias gave a soft laugh. "I asked him why students breaking school rules weren't punished. He gave points instead. Naturally, I reminded him in front of the entire school."
Seraphina stopped and turned to him with an amused smirk. "You publicly questioned Dumbledore?"
"I was polite," Elias said. "But firm."
"And you didn't care that it would mark you?"
"I'm not trying to be invisible. Just untouchable."
There was a brief silence before Seraphina said, "Good. Dumbledore is powerful, yes. But his idealism often blinds him to reality. He's made too many gambits tied to the 'greater good.'"
They entered the velvet-draped sitting room where a tray of tea and elven-prepared biscuits waited. The fire crackled softly, the room enchanted for warmth and silence.
As they sat, Elias brought up the last important detail.
"I'll need access to the Blackthorn Vault before the Egypt trip."
Seraphina looked at him carefully. "Which vault?"
"The secondary one. Not the family legacy vault. Just the one with the historical artifacts and minor relics."
"For research?" she asked.
"For safety," Elias replied.
Seraphina took a sip of tea, then nodded. "I'll approve it."
The conversation drifted then to lighter things—brief retellings of Hogwarts quirks, Lucian's dry comments about Ministry incompetence, and Seraphina's irritation with French magical bureaucracy.
By the time the fire burned low, Elias excused himself. Plans had to be refined. Wards to be strengthened. And scrolls to study before departure.
As he reached the door, Seraphina called after him softly, "Elias."
He paused.
"You've made your father and I proud. But be careful. Sometimes, ancient magic takes more than it gives."
Elias nodded slowly. "That's why I'm the one going. I'll decide what's worth taking."
And with that, he vanished into the quiet corridors of Blackthorn Manor—already planning his next move.