Chapter One â The Legacy of Shadows
The forest near Ilvermorny was alive with soft, flickering lightsânot the kind of light that came from the sun or moon, but the glow of magic itself. Sadiki Bestrange knelt in a small clearing, her long black dreadlocks brushing against the earth as she murmured an incantation. The hum of her wand intertwined with the subtle coos and growls of the creatures surrounding her.
Before her, a Nundu cub, its small frame trembling from a recent injury, lay swaddled in enchanted bandages. Sadikiâs fingers traced intricate runes in the air, guiding the flow of restorative magic through the cubâs broken leg. With every gesture, the hum deepened, and the cub stirred, its golden eyes blinking wide open.
âYouâll heal, little one,â she whispered, brushing a hand over its fur. âI wonât let anyone take you from this world before your time.â
Her other wand hovered above a small cluster of Thunderbird eggs, faint sparks of protective magic weaving around them. She had long ago come to love these hidden creatures as companions, confidants, and reminders that not all of her world needed to be touched by darkness. Yet her mind never strayed far from her ambitionâone day, she would reshape magical America, bending the rules that bound witches and wizards in silence.
Sadiki straightened, brushing dirt from her robes. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the clearing. Every leaf, every shadow, felt like a puzzle piece in a grand design only she could see. She had inherited the brilliance of the Sayres and the ruthlessness of the Bestranges. The combination made her a force that some whispered about, a witch whose name might one day inspire fearâor awe.
From the shadows of the treeline, a faint, deliberate movement caught her attention. She froze, wand in hand, muscles coiled. For a moment, she allowed herself a small, satisfied smirk.
âCurious,â she murmured. âSomeone finally came looking.â
It was not an intruder, not yet. But somewhere in the world beyond the forest, there was a man whose reputation rivaled her own. Nabil Saamiâtall, charismatic, and impossibly brilliantâan Auror whose skill in dueling and defense was whispered about even in the most elite circles of MACUSA. Rumors painted him as relentless, principled, a man who could not be swayed by charm or fear.
Sadiki wondered what he would think of her here, kneeling among magical creatures, speaking incantations that danced like fire over her hands. Would he see only a dark witch, the threat MACUSA had warned him about? Or might he glimpse the other sideâthe side that healed, that cared, that dreamed?
She shook off the thought and returned to her work. There was no time for distractions, not when the forest held so many secrets, not when the world outside was so rigid and small. One day, she would step beyond these woods and challenge everything. But for now, she would master her magic, her creatures, and herself.
The Nundu cub whimpered softly as the final threads of the healing spell wrapped around its leg. Sadiki smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.
âGood,â she said. âYou survive today. And tomorrow⌠the world will bend to those brave enough to shape it.â
A shadow shifted again at the edge of the clearing, unnoticed by her for the moment. Somewhere beyond the trees, a pair of hazel eyes watched, and a mind as sharp as hers began calculating how to confront a force unlike any otherâa dark witch with ambitions as dangerous as they were brilliant.
And so the first spark of their intertwined destinies ignited, in the quiet of the forest, with magical creatures as witnesses to the beginning of a story that would shake the foundations of the American wizarding world.
Chapter Two â The Auror
Richmond, Virginia, had always seemed like a quiet city to most Muggles, with its cobblestone streets and colonial brick buildings. But beneath the surface, the magical undercurrent thrummed like a hidden heartbeat. For Nabil Saami, walking these streets as a MACUSA Auror felt like stepping onto a chessboard where every shadow might conceal a piece he could not yet see.
He adjusted the strap of his wand holster under his coat, his hazel eyes scanning the bustling market street. Invisible to the No-Maj eye, enchantments shimmered over certain shops: protective wards, anti-scrying charms, and the occasional glamour to hide a magical creature or two. Nabil had spent years learning to navigate such subtle layers of enchantment, training in Defense Against the Dark Arts, charms, and transfiguration, and even refining his skill in flying for emergencies. But today, he didnât need a broomâhe needed focus.
Reports had reached MACUSA of unusual magical disturbances in the Richmond area: small townsfolk recovering from minor hexes they didnât even realize had been cast, sudden bursts of wild magic that healed wounded animals or transformed objects temporarily. Someone was experimenting with magic in ways both skilled and dangerous. And someoneâs signature, clever and audacious, seemed to mark the work.
Nabil paused in front of a small alleyway, noting faint residue of transfiguration magic along the bricks. The traces were subtle, refinedâsomeone meticulous, intelligent, but also bold enough to take risks.
He knelt, tracing the arcane patterns with the tip of his wand. âClever,â he murmured. âNot reckless⌠deliberate. Someone who knows exactly what theyâre doing.â
As he rose, a rustle behind him made him pivot. A small, silver-furred mooncalf blinked at him with wide, gentle eyes, clearly under a protective charm. Nabilâs lips curved in a half-smile. âInteresting,â he said softly. He extended his hand, and the creature nuzzled it cautiously. It was rare to find a magical being cared for with this level of skill outside of Ilvermorny or specialized sanctuaries.
He frowned, realization sharpening in his mind. Whoever was behind thisâhealing magic, rare transfigurations, advanced charmsâwas powerful. And judging by the precision of the spells, young. Unusually young for such skill.
âSadiki Bestrange,â he murmured under his breath, repeating the name from the MACUSA intelligence reports. The Bestrange lineage was notorious in American and European magical history. But the description didnât match any usual profile of darkness and crueltyâat least, not fully. The magical traces suggested intelligence, caution, and even⌠care.
Nabil straightened, determination hardening his posture. âLetâs see what youâre really up to.â
He continued down the alley, wand ready, senses alert for traps, hexes, or creatures. Every instinct trained in dueling, transfiguration, and creature handling guided him forward. Richmondâs streets, bathed in the amber glow of the evening, seemed almost alive, responding to the presence of a wizard who was both hunter and scholar.
Somewhere ahead, a shadow flickered between the buildingsâquick, deliberate, aware. Nabilâs heartbeat quickened, not with fear, but with recognition. The spark of something extraordinary awaited him, a challenge unlike any other.
And somewhere, just beyond the veil of magic and mundane, Sadiki Bestrange was watching him too, her forest lessons in Richmond now converging with the man who would change everything.
Chapter Three â Sparks of Fascination
The air in Richmond was thick with magic, unseen by the Muggles bustling along the James Riverâs edge. Sadiki Bestrange moved silently through an abandoned warehouse district, her long black dreadlocks swaying behind her. Her hands traced faint runes in the air, weaving protective charms around a small group of injured mooncalves she had rescued from a collapsed magical enclosure.
Her golden-brown eyes caught movement from the corner of her visionâa figure stepping lightly over broken crates, wand at the ready.
âNabil Saami,â she whispered under her breath, recognition flickering through her. He had followed the trail sheâd left behind like a clever predator, tracing not just magic, but the thought behind it.
Nabil stepped fully into the open, his hazel eyes steady and calculating. âSadiki Bestrange,â he replied, voice calm but edged with authority. âI wondered when weâd finally meet.â
Neither moved immediately, sizing each other up. This was more than a simple duel; it was a meeting of minds, of wills. Sadikiâs lips curved into a small, wry smile. âI imagine youâre curious about me,â she said, wand raised. âAnd I about you.â
In a blink, the air shimmered as both unleashed their first spellsânot recklessly, but in controlled arcs. Sadiki transfigured a pile of debris into a swirling vortex of small enchanted creatures, including bats and miniature Thunderbirds, which darted around Nabil, testing his defenses.
Nabil countered immediately, raising a protective barrier charm while simultaneously sending a Hippogriff swooping from the shadows, scattering some of the flying creatures and drawing attention away from the mooncalves. His movements were precise, fluid, and confident, each step calculated to anticipate her attacks.
For several tense minutes, the duel became a delicate dance. Sadiki wove healing-infused charms into her offensive magic, her creatures acting as extensions of her will. Nabil countered with shields, transfigurations, and tactical flying maneuvers, demonstrating the full breadth of his defensive brilliance.
And yet, in the midst of the magical spectacle, something unusual happened. When one of Sadikiâs enchanted bats faltered mid-flight, Nabil caught it gently, returning it to her with a slight bow of respect.
Sadiki froze, a flicker of something unguarded passing across her faceâcuriosity, admiration, something she hadnât expected. âYou⌠care for the creatures,â she said softly.
âI care for precision and fairness,â Nabil replied evenly, though his gaze lingered on her with an intensity that betrayed his words. âAnd sometimes, the creatures teach us more about ourselves than our spells ever could.â
The duel ended in stalemate, the creatures settling back around Sadiki, the debris and broken crates restored by her clever transfigurations. Both lowered their wands, but neither looked away.
âYouâre⌠different than I imagined,â Nabil admitted, his voice softening. âI expected recklessness. Youâre⌠deliberate.â
Sadiki tilted her head, letting a slow smile curl over her lips. âAnd you,â she said, âare not just law. You think, you anticipate⌠you understand the balance of power. That makes you dangerous.â
A moment of silence hung between them, charged with unspoken questions and possibilities. Neither could deny it: this encounter was more than a test of skillâit was the first spark of a bond that would challenge everything they knew about magic, duty, and love.
From the shadows, Richmondâs cobblestones and abandoned warehouses seemed to hold their breath, witnessing the beginning of a story that would shake the American wizarding world to its core.
Chapter Four â Philosophical Nights
The first time they met outside of combat, it was under the veil of night, in an abandoned greenhouse on the edge of Richmondâs historic district. The glass panes were cracked, ivy curling through the gaps, but the air inside shimmered faintly with wardsâSadikiâs wards, delicate and intricate, proof of her mastery in charms.
Nabil stepped inside cautiously, but the tension of their duel had softened. He carried no defensive stance, only quiet curiosity. Sadiki was already there, crouched on the floor with a small creature nestled in her handsâa round, fluffy Puffskein, its tiny tongue flicking out with curious chirps.
âYou didnât bring your Auror robes,â Sadiki observed, her voice low but edged with amusement.
âI didnât think Iâd need them,â Nabil replied, leaning against a beam, his wand hand relaxed at his side. His hazel eyes studied her as she stroked the Puffskeinâs soft fur. âThat one doesnât look particularly dangerous.â
âDangerous?â Sadiki arched a brow, smirking. âThis little one could probably charm the gold out of your pockets faster than a Niffler, if I asked it to. Puffskeins are underestimated, but theyâre loyal, affectionate, clever.â She paused, then added more quietly, âThey donât judge.â
Nabil tilted his head, intrigued. âAnd what else do you like?â
Sadiki shifted, releasing the Puffskein to roll onto the mossy ground, then traced her finger in the air. A Kneazle padded forward from the shadowsâa sleek, intelligent-eyed feline with tufted ears and a flicking tail. âKneazles,â she said. âThey can sense deceit. You can never truly lie to them. That kind of honesty⌠is rare.â
Her tone was softer now, unguarded. For a moment, Nabil glimpsed not the dark witch MACUSA feared, but the woman beneathâthe scholar, the dreamer, the lonely visionary.
âAnd Nifflers?â she continued, with the faintest laugh, surprising him. âI suppose I love them for their chaos. They take what they want without apology. A little greedy, yes, but donât we all have that in us?â
âAnd the last?â Nabil asked gently, as if testing how far she would let him in.
Sadikiâs eyes gleamed, shadows and candlelight playing across her features. âMatagots,â she whispered. âBeautiful, mysterious⌠untamable. They obey when they must, but only because they choose to. Even their loyalty is a rebellion.â
Nabil considered her in silence, and then said, âYouâve just described yourself.â
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. âPerhaps,â she admitted. âOr perhaps I just admire creatures who live as they please.â
They sat across from each other, the greenhouse filled with the faint sounds of shifting paws, chirps, and purring. Their conversation deepened, winding through debates of freedom and order, secrecy and revelation. Sadiki argued that wizards had the right to live openly, to stop hiding behind the Statute of Secrecy. Nabil countered with the dangersâwar, persecution, imbalanceâthat such exposure would bring.
âPower is meant to be shaped,â she said firmly, her brown eyes catching the moonlight through the broken glass. âIf not, whatâs the point of having it?â
âAnd yet,â Nabil replied, his voice calm but heavy, âshaping it without restraint only leads to ruin. History already taught us that. Grindelwald taught us that.â
Her smile faltered, but only for a heartbeat. âGrindelwald lacked heart. I donât.â
Silence stretched between them, charged and unspoken. For the first time, Nabil realized she believed what she said with a passion that rivaled his own ideals. She wasnât just dangerousâshe was brilliant. And brilliant was far harder to fight.
When he finally stood to leave, she called after him softly, almost playfully. âOne day, Auror Saami, youâll admit you agree with me.â
He glanced back, his eyes catching hers in the dim light. âOr one day, youâll admit youâre wrong.â
Neither admitted anything that night. But both walked away with their thoughtsâand their heartsâirreversibly entangled.
Chapter Five â The Dream of Revolution
The riverfront of Richmond gleamed under moonlight, the water rolling silver and quiet. But within a hidden warehouse, magic pulsed thick and alive, bending the air with energy.
Sadiki Bestrange stood at the center of a vast chalk circle, intricate runes spiraling outward like a map only she could read. Around her, enchanted candles flickered green and gold, illuminating cages that held a variety of creaturesâa Kneazle, a pair of Puffskeins, and a restless Niffler pawing at the bars. The creatures werenât harmed, not yet, but their unease was undeniable.
Nabil watched from the doorway, his expression tight, unreadable. âWhat are you doing, Sadiki?â
âShaping the future,â she said simply, without looking up. Her wand traced sigils in the air, each line glowing brighter than the last. âIâm amplifying their natural magic. Puffskeins absorb emotions, Kneazles sense truth, Nifflers are drawn to treasuresâimagine a world where we enhance their instincts. Imagine what we could learn, what we could create.â
Nabil stepped closer, his hazel eyes narrowing. âOr imagine what happens when you push a living being past its natural limits. What happens when the magic doesnât stop?â
Sadikiâs lips curved into a cool smile. âAlways the protector. Always the cautious Auror.â She flicked her wand and one of the Puffskeins glowed faintly, its soft hum deepening into a steady, rhythmic vibration. âSee? No harm done. Only possibility.â
But the Kneazle hissed suddenly, its tufted ears flattening, tail whipping against the cage. The runes pulsed too quickly, the air crackling with unstable magic. For a moment, even Sadikiâs composure faltered. She lifted her wand, murmuring a counter-charm, and the energy fizzled back into silence.
The Puffskein collapsed into sleep, unharmed but trembling faintly.
âPossibility,â Nabil repeated, his voice sharp. âThatâs not what I saw. That was risk. That was reckless.â
She turned to face him, her long dreadlocks brushing her shoulders, her eyes gleaming like embers. âEvery revolution is born from risk. Donât tell me youâve never thought about it, Nabil. Donât tell me youâve never wished to cast away these chains MACUSA calls law.â
He didnât answer right away. Because he had. He had thought of it, imagined a world where wizards didnât have to shrink themselves to fit inside secrecy. Where he could fly above the city at dawn without concealment charms, where children could learn magic openly in their homes.
But not like this. Not through force, not through bending life into something unnatural.
âI believe in freedom,â Nabil said carefully. âBut not in domination. Not in breaking whatâs fragile just to prove it can bend.â
Sadiki stepped closer, her wand lowering, her voice softening. âYou believe in me, though.â
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Yes, he did. Against his better judgment, against the duty engraved into his very soul, he believed in her brilliance, her fire.
Her smile was faint, dangerous in its allure. âStay with me, Nabil. Help me build it. Together, we could reshape everything.â
He exhaled, steady, forcing himself to look away from her dark, glittering eyes and toward the still-shivering Puffskein. âOr we could destroy everything.â
The words hung in the air like a curse. Sadiki said nothing, her expression unreadable, but a line had been drawn. Neither of them could pretend anymore that their ideals were the same.
Outside, the James River rolled on, indifferent to the storm beginning to form between them.
Chapter Six â Betrayal of Hearts
The night was heavy with summer heat, the Richmond air thick with cicada-song and the faint shimmer of wards that Sadiki had cast around her hideout. Inside, candles burned low, their light flickering across shelves stacked with scrolls, potions, and scattered magical artifacts.
Sadiki stood hunched over a parchment, sketching runes and diagrams of enchantments she had begun experimenting with. Her hair fell in loose coils around her face, her sharp eyes alive with determinationâand exhaustion.
A faint knock against the wooden frame made her pause.
âItâs me,â came Nabilâs low voice.
She turned, frowning, but softened when he stepped inside. He carried something small in his armsâa bundle wrapped in midnight-blue cloth that shifted, alive.
âWhat is that?â she asked warily, though her voice carried a note of curiosity.
Nabil smiled faintly, his hazel eyes warm. âA gift. Donât get used to it.â
He set the bundle on the table, and with a flick of his wand, the fabric unraveled. A tiny Matagot kitten blinked up at her, its inky-black fur gleaming faintly in the light, its eyes glowing gold like twin lanterns.
Sadikiâs breath caught. She reached out slowly, letting the creature sniff her fingers before lifting it into her hands. The kitten purred, its body weightless as mist, but solid enough to curl against her chest.
âObsidian,â she whispered, a rare softness flickering across her features. âThatâs your name.â
Nabil watched her, his expression unreadable. He had thoughtâhopedâthat perhaps grounding her with something pure, something small and affectionate, might draw her back from the dangerous edge she was walking. Watching her cradle the kitten, her smile fleeting but genuine, he felt the echo of the girl she might have been had her ambition not grown so sharp.
âYou still believe in me,â she murmured, stroking the kittenâs ears. It was not a question.
âI believe in what you could be,â Nabil replied. âBut not in what youâre becoming.â
The words cut sharper than any spell. Sadiki froze, her hand stilled on Obsidianâs fur, her eyes lifting to meet his. âBecoming?â she repeated, her voice cold.
âI saw what you did in the warehouse last week.â His tone hardened, though regret laced through it. âThat KneazleâSadiki, you nearly broke it. And for what? A theory? A ritual you werenât ready to control?â
Her jaw tightened. âRevolutions arenât built on safety, Nabil. Theyâre built on sacrifice.â
âSacrifice?â His voice rose now, the calm cracked. âOf who? Of what? The innocent? The creatures you claim to love?â
Her eyes flashed, pain and anger tangled together. âYou donât understand! MACUSA cages us, blinds us, hides us away from the world we could rule. Iâm not cruelâIâm visionary. And if you canât see thatâŚâ
Obsidian stirred uneasily in her arms, sensing the tension. Sadiki pulled the kitten close, whispering a calming charm.
Nabilâs voice softened, but his eyes remained hard. âI see you, Sadiki. Thatâs why this is breaking me. You want to liberate the world, but your methods⌠theyâll destroy it.â
For a moment, silence thickened between them. Her lips trembled as if she might say somethingâplead, or confessâbut instead, she smiled bitterly.
âThen perhaps, Auror Saami, you should stop visiting me.â
The words were soft, but they struck like a curse.
Nabil stood frozen, every instinct warring inside him. He wanted to argue, to pull her back from the cliff she was walking. But the look in her eyesâproud, defiant, unyieldingâtold him she had already made her choice.
Without another word, he turned and walked out into the humid night, his shadow vanishing into the street.
Sadiki clutched Obsidian to her chest, her heart pounding. The Matagot purred, its golden eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
âYou wonât leave me,â she whispered to the kitten. âNot like he will.â
But even as she spoke, her chest ached. And deep down, in a place she refused to acknowledge, she knew: something had cracked between them tonight, something neither of them could mend.
Chapter Seven â The Aurorâs Duty
The MACUSA office in Richmond was quiet that morning, sunlight streaming in through enchanted glass that shifted its hue with the rising day. Nabil Saami sat stiffly in the council chamber, his hands folded, his jaw set. Across the long mahogany table, the senior Aurors spoke in clipped voices, their faces grim.
âSadiki Bestrange,â one of them said, sliding a parchment across the table. A familiar sketch stared back at him, charcoal-dark eyes beneath long dreadlocks, her expression as fierce on paper as it was in life.
âSheâs been linked to destabilizing magical wards along the James River. Witnesses report sheâs conducting unauthorized rituals involving creatures.â
The Auror to Nabilâs left leaned forward. âWeâve given her too long, Saami. Youâre the one she trusts. Youâre the only one who can bring her in.â
A silence stretched. The weight of duty pressed against him, colder than any spell. He thought of Sadikiâs laugh, rare and sharp like broken glass catching the sun. He thought of Obsidian curled in her arms, the way she whispered to the kitten as if it were her heart outside her body.
And he thought of the warehouseâthe glowing runes, the trembling Puffskein, her voice when she said, Revolutions arenât built on safety. Theyâre built on sacrifice.
His hand curled into a fist. âIâll find her,â he said quietly.
The council nodded, satisfied. But when Nabil left the chamber, his steps slowed. The hall stretched endlessly, the walls etched with portraits of Aurors past, men and women who had made impossible choices. He wondered if they, too, had walked with love and duty tearing them in two.
That evening, he found himself drawn to the river again. The James moved dark and restless, reflecting the cityâs lights. He mounted his broom and flew low over the water, the humid air rushing against his face. He remembered flying with Sadiki once, years ago, when their laughter had carried on the wind like music.
Meanwhile, in her hidden refuge, Sadiki stroked Obsidianâs inky fur as she read from an ancient tome. The Matagot purred, its golden eyes glowing, a comfort against the emptiness pressing in. She could feel the wards outside shiftingâMACUSAâs presence drawing closer, like hounds circling prey.
She knew who they would send.
When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel himâNabilâs steady presence, his fire and restraint, the way his gaze lingered on her even when his words condemned her. She loved him. She hated him.
âHeâll come for me,â she whispered to Obsidian. âAnd when he does⌠Iâll make him see. Iâll make him choose.â
The kitten only purred, its shadowy tail curling like smoke.
Far above the city, Nabil flew, the stars opening wide around him. His chest ached with the truth he couldnât escape. He was no longer simply Nabil, the man who had loved Sadiki. He was Auror Saami now, and the parchment in his pocket carried the weight of destiny.
And somewhere in the dark, he knewâSadiki was waiting for him.
Chapter Eight â The Spark in Richmond
The city of Richmond hummed with late-summer energy. Witches and wizards walked among Muggles, their wands tucked discreetly away, their enchantments hidden beneath everyday motions. The magical undercurrent of the city was strong here, tangled with the riverâs restless currents and the bones of history buried deep in the ground.
Sadiki Bestrange stood at the edge of Monroe Park as twilight settled, the cicadas fading into the hum of neon and laughter. Hooded, she looked like any other passerby. But the circle around herâhalf a dozen young witches and wizardsâwatched her as though the night itself bent toward her voice.
âYou feel it,â she whispered, her words weaving through the air like a spell. âThe chains. MACUSA calls it law. The Statute of Secrecy calls it order. But tell meâhave you ever once been free? Have you ever once been allowed to live your magic in the light?â
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathering. A young man clenched his fists. âMy brother was fined for brewing potions in our own home. They said the fumes endangered Muggles.â
A womanâs eyes burned. âMy Kneazle was confiscatedâregistered as a threat.â
Sadikiâs lips curved, not in cruelty but in recognition. âYes. They strip you. They tame you. And when you resist, they brand you dark.â
Obsidian stirred in her satchel, golden eyes glimmering as if in response to her fire. Sadiki lifted the kitten for a moment, letting the crowd see. Gasps spread when the Matagot blinked, its form shimmering like smoke.
âCreatures are free,â Sadiki said, stroking its fur. âThey do not hide what they are. Why should we?â
The small crowd leaned in, caught in her rhythm. Her voice was not loud, but it pulsed with conviction, with that dangerous charisma that made every word feel like prophecy.
But the air shifted. Sadiki felt it before she saw themâMACUSA patrols, sweeping through the park with wands drawn discreetly, their eyes scanning. She smirked faintly, lowering Obsidian back into her satchel.
âGo,â she whispered to her listeners. âScatter. Remember my words.â
The witches and wizards melted into the night, their hearts ignited with new purpose. Sadiki stayed only a moment longer, watching as the Aurors passed. Their leader barked orders under his breath. He hadnât seen herâyet.
She stepped back into the shadow of an oak tree, her fingers brushing her wand. For a moment, she considered hexing them. Teaching them fear. But noâthis was not the moment.
Instead, she whispered a charm, and dozens of tiny glowing symbols burst into the air above the parkârunes for freedom, strength, truth. They shimmered like stars, hovering long enough that both wizard and Muggle eyes caught them before they dissolved into sparks.
Gasps rose. Whispers spread. The patrol spun, searching for the source, but Sadiki was already gone, Obsidianâs soft purring pressed to her ribs as she disappeared into the night.
Across the city, in the upper floors of MACUSAâs Richmond office, Nabil Saami watched from the window as the last of the runes faded above the park. His heart clenched. He didnât need a report. He knew whose hand had written those stars.
âSadiki,â he murmured, the name heavy with memory.
Behind him, another Auror strode in, tossing a parchment onto his desk. âSheâs moving bolder. Youâre rightâitâs her. Orders are clear, Saami. We find her, we bring her in. No hesitation.â
Nabilâs hazel eyes lingered on the night beyond the glass, on the echo of the sparks that still burned in the minds of those who had seen them.
But his chest ached, because hesitation was all he had.
Chapter Nine â Duel of Destinies
The night over Richmond crackled with tension. Fog rolled along the cobblestone streets, softening the glow of lanterns while shadows twisted between the alleyways. Nabil Saami landed lightly atop a rooftop, his broom whispering against the tiles. Below him, the faint shimmer of magical wards confirmed what he already knew: Sadiki Bestrange was near.
He drew his wand, letting his mind calm. Every training session, every duel, every encounter with dangerous magic had led to this. Yet nothing prepared him for the sight of her emerging from the shadows, Obsidian perched gracefully in her arms, golden eyes reflecting the moonlight.
âSadiki,â he called, voice carrying over the fog. âIt doesnât have to be this way.â
Her lips curved into a faint smile, almost teasing. âIt always has to be this way, Nabil. You know that.â She set Obsidian gently on the roof, where the Matagot blinked and shimmered, ready to defend if needed.
Without another word, she lifted her wand. The duel began.
Sadikiâs first move sent a flurry of enchanted creaturesâminiature Thunderbirds and Puffskeinsâdarting toward him. Nabil raised a shield charm just in time, countering their speed with precise transfigurations. A Kneazle leaped from her sleeve, agile and sharp, but Nabilâs quick reflexes sent it flying harmlessly into a wall of energy.
Spells tore through the fog: arcs of crimson and gold, flashes of transfiguration and counter-charm magic. Sadikiâs healing-infused spells hummed with subtle energy, each attack a test of both skill and restraint. Nabil matched her with defensive brilliance, weaving shields, reflective charms, and tactical maneuvers while flying in tight loops above the rooftop.
At one point, Obsidian darted between them, puffing out its inky fur in a protective charm. Sadiki murmured, calming the Matagot, but her eyes never left Nabilâs.
âYou always fight with honor,â she said, voice almost soft amid the chaos. âBut youâll have to do more than that.â
Nabilâs jaw tightened. âAnd youâll have to fight without breaking everything around you.â
Every spell they cast carried more than intentâit carried emotion. Frustration, love, anger, regret. Each counterspell mirrored their connection, their history of philosophical debates, whispered nights with creatures, and unspoken confessions. The city around them remained unaware of the power surging above the rooftops.
Sadikiâs final move was daring: she transfigured a cluster of bricks into a glowing storm of magical shards, spinning toward him like a cyclone. Nabil dodged deftly, firing a binding charm that stabilized the shards into harmless floating fragments.
They paused, both breathing heavily, their wands raised, the mist curling between them like smoke in a fire.
âYou could have stayed with me,â she said quietly. âYou could have understood.â
âAnd you could have stopped before it went too far,â he countered. âBefore someone got hurt⌠before you lost yourself completely.â
Finally, exhaustion and mutual respect forced a pause. Neither had won, but neither had truly held back. They stood across the roof, panting, eyes locked, Obsidian perched between them like a silent judge.
Sadikiâs expression softened, just slightly, as if the Matagotâs presence reminded her there was still life worth protecting. Nabil lowered his wand fractionally, though he couldnât entirely relax.
âYouâre⌠remarkable,â he admitted, voice quiet, almost reverent.
âAnd you,â she said, her smile sharp but warm, âare infuriatingly steadfast. A man who believes in the rules⌠and in me.â
Neither moved. Neither spoke again. The tension lingered, unresolved, heavy with the weight of what had just passed.
Obsidian purred and curled against Sadiki, sensing the end of the duelâfor now. Nabil took a step back, glancing down at the city below. MACUSA orders still stood: capture her. But for this night, for this fleeting moment, they were neither enemy nor allyâthey were something more complex.
Something dangerous. Something real.
And both knew this was only the beginning.
Chapter Ten â Prisoned Shadows
The cell was quiet, almost unnervingly so. The walls shimmered faintly with protective charms, wards designed to suppress Sadiki Bestrangeâs formidable magic. The air was cool, yet heavy, carrying the scent of old stone and polished iron.
Sadiki sat cross-legged on a raised stone slab, Obsidian curled in her lap. The Matagotâs golden eyes glimmered like lanterns, the only warmth in the otherwise sterile chamber.
She traced her fingers over the kittenâs fur, whispering a charm to soothe both of them. Her brown eyes, usually sharp and unyielding, now betrayed a flicker of frustrationâand perhaps something more vulnerable, buried deep.
âYouâre safe, at least,â she murmured to Obsidian. âEven if the world outside isnât.â
The heavy door swung open. Nabil Saami stepped inside, his broom left behind, wand in hand but lowered. His hazel eyes scanned the cell, landing immediately on her. She looked smaller somehow, despite the fire still simmering in her gaze.
âSadiki,â he said softly, voice carrying both relief and regret. âIâŚâ
She lifted a hand, cutting him off before he could speak further. âDonât.â Her voice was steady, commanding, yet the slight quiver betrayed her restraint. âWhatever you say, it doesnât matter here. MACUSA owns these walls. And youâŚâ Her lips curved faintly, bitterly. âYou obey them.â
âI do,â he admitted, stepping closer. His chest ached with the weight of his duty and the remnants of love he couldnât abandon. âBut that doesnât mean Iâve stopped caring. I stillââ
âCaring?â Her laugh was low, almost humorless, echoing off the stone. âYou think caring changes anything? You couldnât stop me if you tried, and nowânow you stand there, torn between law and⌠me.â
He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. âIâm trying to do whatâs right.â
âAnd Iâm trying to do whatâs necessary,â she said. âDo you hear yourself, Nabil? Right and necessary arenât the same thing. Youâll never understand what Iâve seen. What I could do.â
Obsidian stirred, brushing against her hand. The Matagotâs warmth seemed to offer the only comfort in the room. Sadikiâs fingers ghosted over the kittenâs fur, her mind a storm of ambition, frustration, and a lingering tenderness she would never fully admit.
Nabilâs voice softened, almost pleading. âI do understand more than you think. Thatâs why this hurts. Youâre brilliant, Sadiki. Too brilliant. But brilliance doesnât excuse the risk⌠the lives at stake.â
Her eyes shimmered faintly in the candlelight. âAnd yet⌠you still love me enough to be here.â
He didnât answer immediately. He only looked at her, torn between loyalty and desire, between the law he had sworn to uphold and the woman who had stolen his heart.
Sadiki leaned back, letting Obsidian settle fully in her lap. âRemember this moment, Nabil. Remember that I trusted you once. That IâŚâ She swallowed. âThat I let you in.â
The door creaked, signaling his departure. Nabil took a step back, reluctant, his heart heavy. âI wonât forget,â he whispered.
As the heavy stone door slammed shut behind him, Sadiki pressed her face into Obsidianâs fur, letting out a breath she hadnât realized she was holding.
âI still have you,â she murmured, almost to herself. âAt least I have you.â
Outside, Richmondâs streets continued, unaware of the storm that had passed and the quiet tragedy that now filled a cell. For Nabil, duty had been doneâbut at the cost of love. For Sadiki, ambition remained unbrokenâbut at the cost of freedom.
And in the shadows, the story of their intertwined fates was far from over.
