The days following their harrowing detention in the Forbidden Forest passed in a strange sort of quiet. Lennon, usually seen laughing in the corridors with Fred and George or trading Quidditch tips with Oliver, had grown pensive. Her friends noticed, but no one pressed. She spent more time near the library or at the edge of the lake, staring out across the water with furrowed brows.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were no better. The knowledge of something dark within the school had cast a long shadow. The mention of Voldemort, the mirror, and now the unicorn blood had driven them to an undeniable conclusion: the Philosopher's Stone was in danger.
And someone—maybe more than one someone—was helping.
---
One particularly overcast afternoon, the trio dragged Lennon to a secluded nook in the courtyard.
"We know the Stone is here," Hermione whispered. "It must be behind the trapdoor on the third floor."
"Guarded by a three-headed dog," Harry added. "We saw it our first night."
"Dumbledore's protecting it," Ron said. "And Snape is after it."
Lennon looked at each of them. "You really believe he'd steal it?"
"He's been trying to hex Harry since the first match," Ron said.
"But there's no proof," Lennon said, still cautious. "And Dumbledore trusts him."
"He also trusted Quirrell," Hermione said darkly.
They all fell silent at that.
"We'll need to keep watch," Harry said. "If anyone tries to go through that trapdoor again, we'll be ready."
Lennon hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But we don't do anything reckless until we know for sure. Agreed?"
They nodded.
---
Later that evening, Lennon found herself walking alone in the quiet stretches near the Astronomy Tower, where she often went to think. But this time, she wasn't alone.
Mattheo stood near the edge, gazing out at the darkening sky. His silhouette was sharp, motionless. His Slytherin robe fluttered gently in the breeze.
She walked up quietly.
"You've been avoiding me," she said.
He didn't turn. "I figured you had your hands full."
"With unicorn corpses? Mirror worlds? Cursed scars?"
He flinched.
"You know, don't you?" she said softly.
Mattheo turned now, eyes stormy. "Know what?"
She stepped closer. "That it was him in the Forest. That it's him behind everything. And that he's your father."
The silence between them stretched, heavy with history and pain.
Mattheo looked away again. "I didn't choose him."
"No," Lennon said. "But you haven't exactly stood against him either."
His jaw clenched. "You don't know what it's like."
"I don't," she admitted. "But I know what it means to be scared of becoming something you hate."
He glanced at her sharply.
"I've been trying to help Harry," she continued. "To protect them. From him. From what he left behind. If you're with us, really with us, now's the time to prove it."
Mattheo's voice dropped to a whisper. "He's getting stronger. He's closer than any of you think."
Lennon's stomach twisted.
"Help us stop him," she said.
Mattheo turned to her fully, the torment in his eyes clear. "I don't know if I can."
"You can," she said, placing a hand over his heart. "You just have to want to."
For a moment, the tower was quiet except for the wind.
And then Mattheo nodded.
---
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione had laid out a plan. "There are enchantments guarding the Stone. Each one probably reflects the strengths of the professors who placed it there. We need to learn what they are."
"Before Snape gets past them," Harry said.
Lennon stepped through the portrait hole just then, face tight.
"You alright?" Ron asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. But things are moving faster than we thought."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Lennon didn't answer right away. Her gaze flicked to Harry.
"We need to be ready. All of us. Because whatever's coming—it's coming soon."