Dumbledore's path to the Astronomy Tower was anything but solitary. The first familiar face belonged to Snape, whose sallow features twisted into their usual mask of gloom, laced with a flicker of disdain.
"Curious," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I half-expected you'd hole up in your office, buried under parchment until dawn."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "And I assumed you'd linger in the shadows indefinitely. Yet here we are, drawn by the same purpose."
Snape's lips thinned, his dark eyes narrowing. "I merely stepped out for—"
He cut himself off with a sharp snort, robes billowing as he spun on his heel and stalked away.
Dumbledore watched him go, shaking his head with a faint, amused smile.
...
Nearing the greenhouses, he nearly collided with Professor Sprout, her hands earthy from tending her charges.
"Albus! Evening!" She glanced toward the tower's silhouette. "Vizette's making his move tonight, isn't he? Everything is all right?"
"Good evening, Pomona." Dumbledore's smile warmed. "Should any hitches arise, he'll turn to Minerva without hesitation."
"Smart boy, that Vizette—never one for needless fuss." Sprout nodded approvingly. "With Minerva overseeing, she'll be fine."
"Indeed." Dumbledore's gaze drifted to the rows of pots behind her. "Those mandrakes are thriving."
Sprout beamed. "Right on schedule. They're at their most finicky now, itching for a glimpse of the full moon. If I don't let them soak it up, they'll kick up a right fuss—screams echoing through the night."
...
By the time Dumbledore reached the Astronomy Tower's base, Flitwick had already scampered partway up the spiral stairs, his small frame buzzing with energy.
"Philipia, good evening," Dumbledore called, quickening his stride to match.
"Albus!" Flitwick chirped back. "Odd business, this. With Vizette's gifts, a clear night like tonight should be child's play."
"Perhaps we've pushed him too far, too fast," Dumbledore mused.
"Exactly!" Flitwick's enthusiasm bubbled over. "You're all so attentive—it's a wonder he hasn't defected to Gryffindor yet!"
Dumbledore chuckled. "No such house-hopping in the rules, I assure you. I've enforced them long enough."
"I know, I know." Flitwick waved a diminutive hand. "But your lot keeps spoiling him with gifts—Christmas parcels, summer treats. I feel remiss if I don't match it."
They crested the stairs to the tower's apex, where Professor McGonagall stood rigid, wand aloft, sustaining a Weather Charm that parted the clouds just so. Moonlight bathed Vizette in a silvery veil, ethereal and unbroken.
"Soul work," Dumbledore observed softly, a note of awe in his voice. "Bigger leap than anticipated."
Flitwick nodded. "But this charm won't hold the moon at bay forever. The night's too ideal—clear skies, perfect glow."
Dumbledore approached with measured steps. "Need a hand?"
Flitwick darted forward, sleeve flicking to reveal his wand. While McGonagall directed hers skyward, weaving clouds to diffuse the light, he aimed toward the distant Black Lake and thrust it high.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
The lake erupted in a frenzy, waves churning as droplets hurled skyward, vaporizing into a towering mist. The charm propelled it upward, blending with McGonagall's clouds until Hogwarts plunged into an artificial twilight.
"Exquisite Levitation Charm," Dumbledore praised. "Though those mandrakes below might grumble—they'd only just caught the moon's rays."
Vizette, mid-ritual, sensed the light's retreat slowing, but stubbornly persisting. Dumbledore clocked it too. He positioned himself at the circle's heart, wand drawn, lips humming a silent incantation.
Reality warped. The castle's stone walls and the veiled night sky receded, as if the tower itself were drifting into the void.
"A masterful Undetectable Extension Charm," McGonagall noted crisply. "If this fails, we'll reschedule—no sense forcing it."
From outside, the tower looked unchanged. But magically, it had stretched into isolation, leagues from Hogwarts and the moon's direct gaze. The lunar magic waned, diluted by distance.
The trio's combined efforts enveloped Vizette in a haze of wonder. The grassy potion's essence steadied him, warding off dizziness while sharpening his focus.
As the moonlight's pull faded, the mandrake leaf stirred in his mind's depths. Its edges curled inward, veins pulsing as it compressed into a slender, needle-like form.
Vizette's awareness hovered in limbo—straddling soul and flesh. He felt the leaf's transformation intimately: its cool edge brushing his lips, a whisper of ancient power.
His Mind Palace glowed faintly, drawn by the leaf's essence. It unlocked hidden wells of joy and serenity, pouring them forth like a gentle tide.
But the exchange flowed both ways. The leaf, in its coiled state, unfurled its magical pathways, linking to the Mind Palace in a symbiotic bond.
In that suspended moment, a spark ignited. Vizette recalled her recent Herbology lesson, where her Magia Revelio had unveiled the leaf's intricate circuits—nail-like runes pulsing in dialogue with the plant's root.
The parallel struck him: this ritual mirrored that exchange. The leaf bridged his inner world, channeling emotions while receiving the Mind Palace's light in return.
The potion's verdant surge coursed through him, illuminating connections he'd only glimpsed before. Enlightenment bloomed—a profound grasp of Magia Revelio's true depth.
…
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