"Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Nathael gave a slight bow as he entered the office, his voice firm yet respectful. Behind him, Celestia crossed the threshold silently, her tail held high and her sapphire-blue eyes scanning the familiar space. It had been weeks since they'd last been away. It was Christmas Eve—December 24—and Hogwarts lay in peaceful stillness. Most students had returned home days earlier, and the corridors, usually filled with laughter and hurried footsteps, now echoed with an almost sacred silence. On their way, Nathael and Celestia had glimpsed Harry and Ron in the entrance hall, absorbed in a game of wizard's chess. The boys looked up briefly upon seeing them. Nathael nodded; they returned a tired smile. No words were exchanged—and none were needed.
Now, before the ancient oak desk, Albus Dumbledore greeted them with a warm smile and a gaze so deep it seemed to pierce beyond flesh and bone.
"Nathael. Celestia," he said, rising to his feet. "Good morning to you both. I didn't expect to see you so early on a day like this."
"We had something important to discuss," Nathael replied without preamble. "And I knew you'd be alone today."
Dumbledore nodded, understanding immediately. He gestured for them to sit. Celestia settled gracefully onto the back of an armchair, while Nathael sat with hands resting on his knees, back straight, eyes fixed on the Headmaster.
"Do you have news about the soul-tracking artifact?" Dumbledore asked, pouring himself a steaming cup of tea.
"Yes," Nathael said. "Good news. I now know where it might be."
Dumbledore showed no surprise—only a slight inclination of his head, inviting him to continue.
"During my trip to the United States," Nathael began, "I followed a lead that took me to a town called Forks in Washington State. There, thanks to information from a merchant in New York, I made contact with a Native American tribe known as the Quileute."
"The Quileute," Dumbledore murmured, steepling his fingers. "I've heard rumors. They're said to be… different."
"More than different," Celestia said clearly. "They're shape-shifters. Not like Animagi. Their transformation isn't spellwork—it's blood. It's earth. It's spirit."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Go on."
"The Quileute told me the story of a wizard named Bjorn Andersen," Nathael continued. "He arrived in Forks thirty-five years ago. He was sixteen, wounded, and searching for his brother. According to them, his brother vanished after a battle against something… something not of this world."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly.
"Something not of this world?"
"Yes," Nathael affirmed. "Bjorn's brother managed to survive, though his soul was left fragmented. That's why Bjorn sought the soul-tracking artifact. He found it in the Amazon, trained with the Quileute, and eventually departed for China—first to Yunnan, then to Mount Kunlun."
"Mount Kunlun," Dumbledore repeated, his gaze distant. "A place of legends. It's said immortals walk among the clouds there—and that it is the gateway to the heavens."
"Exactly," Nathael said. "And it's there, on Mount Kunlun, that the artifact was last seen. I don't know if it's still there, but it's the strongest lead I have."
Dumbledore rose and walked to the window. He gazed out at the frozen lake, the snow-capped towers, the Forbidden Forest slumbering beneath a white blanket. His normally serene face now bore the weight of deep contemplation.
"If Bjorn's brother fought something from another world… then that 'something' could return," he murmured.
Nathael and Celestia remained silent, allowing the most powerful wizard in the world to process what he'd just heard—thoughts they themselves had already entertained.
At last, Dumbledore turned back.
"Thank you for sharing this with me. It's valuable information. Even… dangerous."
He paused, then offered a gentle smile.
"Now, I imagine you've also decided your payment."
Nathael nodded.
"Yes. And it's something I know you can offer me: the Philosopher's Stone."
Dumbledore didn't blink—only regarded him with renewed intensity.
"I know you're a friend of Nicolas Flamel," Nathael continued. "And I know he's the only one to have refined a functional Stone in centuries. Rumor says it produces the Elixir of Life and transmutes base metals into gold—but those properties don't interest me."
He leaned forward slightly.
"What interests me is its pure energy. It's said to contain as much as a Muggle nuclear reactor. And you understand—on my journeys, danger lurks in every corner. Possessing such immense energy would be a considerable advantage."
Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"It's a high price. But a fair one."
He sat back down.
"I accept your terms. But I'll add one condition."
Nathael inclined his head. "Name it."
"In addition to retrieving the soul-tracking artifact, I want you to investigate what became of Bjorn Andersen. If his brother truly fought something from another world, then that 'something' may pose a greater threat than any enemy we've ever known."
In Dumbledore's mind, the pieces were already falling into place: the magical instability he'd sensed in recent years, the disturbances in the fabric of the magical world, Grindelwald's cryptic words during their final duel decades ago—everything pointed to a breaking point. And if Voldemort—now clinging like a parasite to Quirrell's mind—was a threat, this… was something else entirely. Older. Hungrier.
Nathael didn't hesitate.
"I accept. I'll investigate Bjorn as part of the mission."
"Good," Dumbledore said. "But I won't give you the Stone immediately. You'll receive it at the end of the next school year. There are… matters I must resolve first."
Nathael nodded. He didn't press further. He knew when a wizard spoke in code.
"Understood."
Dumbledore then smiled, a warmth in his eyes that softened the tension of the moment.
"By the way, the students have given you glowing reviews as academic advisors. They say your lessons are… revelatory."
Celestia, never losing her poise, let out a soft, dignified snort.
"Naturally," she said with a feline smile. "Not everyone has the privilege of learning from us."
Nathael chuckled softly and rose to his feet.
"Thank you for your time, Headmaster."
"Merry Christmas, Nathael. Celestia."
Just as they were about to leave, Dumbledore stopped them with a phrase both gentle and firm.
"Take good care of the girl in Hogsmeade."
Nathael turned, momentarily surprised. Then he nodded.
"She's my new student. And of course I will."
They left the office. The revolving staircase carried them down, and as they stepped into Hogwarts' snow-covered courtyard, the cold air wrapped around them like an embrace.
"Typical of Dumbledore," Celestia purred, leaping onto Nathael's shoulder. "He learned about Carrie without ever having seen her."
"Understandable," Nathael said, walking the path toward Hogsmeade. "For a wizard of his caliber, sensing Carrie's immense power is like hearing thunder in perfect silence. It's inevitable."
They walked in comfortable quiet for a while. Hogsmeade was already decorated for Christmas: glowing garlands, groups singing carols, snow falling gently over the village. From a nearby window, a soft voice sang "Silent Night," and the scent of butterbeer and gingerbread filled the air.
When they reached their home—a stone cottage with a slate roof and a smoking chimney—Nathael opened the door.
Inside, Carrie and Kate sat by the fire, reading. Carrie held her new wand with almost maternal tenderness, while Kate sketched the village in a notebook.
Both smiled when they saw them.
"How did it go?" Kate asked.
"Well," Nathael said, shrugging off his coat. "Though I fear I'll have to leave soon with Celestia on a mission."
"Can I come with you?" Carrie asked, her eyes bright.
"No," Nathael said gently. "Not yet. But someday—without a doubt."
He sat beside them, wrapping an arm around each, while Celestia settled on the windowsill, watching the snow fall.
"But today," Nathael added with a smile, "is Christmas Eve. So let's forget everything else and just relax."
He glanced at Celestia.
"Have you decided what we're having for dinner tonight?"
Celestia turned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Smoked salmon with Nordic herbs, Brazilian nut chocolate cake, and aged elf wine. And for Carrie and Kate… apple pie with vanilla ice cream. It is Christmas Eve, after all."