It has been a few days since Adam makes a new friend, and in that short time, Luna has become a familiar presence in his routine. She takes to visiting him on weekends whenever she has the time, often accompanying him as he tends to the magical creatures scattered across Hogwarts'' grounds. At first, Adam expects her curiosity to wane after a few outings, but to his surprise, Luna remains as eager as ever, her fascination with magical beasts seemingly endless.


    Most of his peers either don’t understand his love for magical creatures or find it peculiar. But Luna is different—she never hesitates to ask questions, and she always listens with genuine interest. She doesn’t just watch; she engages, showing an intuitive understanding of the creatures. If anything, her presence makes these moments more enjoyable, and Adam finds that he doesn’t mind her company at all.


    Outside of his time with Luna, Adam takes it upon himself to speak with Harry, Ron, and Hermione about her. He knows how Hogwarts can be, how easy it is for students like Luna—who stand out in their own way—to become isolated. While she doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it, Adam still feels it is worth mentioning to his friends.


    Harry responds with mild indifference, not dismissive but not particularly invested either. “She seems nice,” he says with a shrug. “A bit odd, but harmless.”


    Ron, on the other hand, takes it as an unofficial responsibility. “Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out for her,” he says, nodding as if he’s just been assigned a Prefect duty. “Can’t have her wandering around alone too much, not with people always talking behind her back.”


    Hermione is the most enthusiastic. “Luna’s brilliant,” she says immediately. “I’ve had a few conversations with her before. She has such a unique way of looking at things. I think we could all get along if we gave it a chance.”


    Adam leaves the conversation feeling somewhat reassured. At the very least, if Luna ever needs company beyond their weekend adventures, he knows she won’t have to face Hogwarts alone.


    Meanwhile, his other responsibilities continue as usual. His organization runs smoothly, with only the occasional hiccup—nothing he can’t handle. Managing various conservation efforts, ensuring creatures in different locations are cared for, and keeping up with correspondence has become second nature to him. Most of the time, things run like a well-oiled machine, but every now and then, an issue crops up that requires his attention.


    As mid-April approaches, the Easter holidays loom on the horizon. Unlike Christmas, which is filled with the warmth of Yule celebrations, or summer, which means freedom beyond Hogwarts, Easter feels more like an in-between—still part of the school year, but with a brief promise of rest. Most students are simply looking forward to a short break from assignments and exams.


    Adam, however, has other plans. With spring in full bloom, it is the perfect opportunity to spend more time outdoors with the magical creatures. The Forbidden Forest is teeming with life after the winter chill has faded, and he has been eager to check on some of the more elusive creatures that are now becoming more active. There is also the matter of a particular kelpie sighting that the merpeople have mentioned—one that only appears in the Great Lake around early September but might leave behind clues this season.


    While students typically aren’t allowed to leave the castle grounds during the break, Adam has already secured permission from both his parents and Dumbledore. It hasn’t been difficult—his parents trust his abilities, and Dumbledore, as usual, seems to know far more about Adam’s endeavors than he lets on.


    One particular morning during the Easter holidays, Adam receives troubling news from Ron, who hurries over to the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, looking slightly out of breath.


    “Adam,” Ron says in a low voice, leaning in, “Hagrid told me to let you know—there was a fight last night. Your thunderbird, Thor… he went up against a bunch of Dementors in the Forbidden Forest.”


    Adam freezes mid-bite, his fork hovering above his plate. The words take a moment to sink in. “What?” he asks, his voice sharper than he intends.


    Ron nods grimly. “Yeah. Hagrid saw it. Said Thor fought off five or six of them. He came out fine, but—”


    Adam is already standing, his appetite forgotten. His mind races. A confrontation between a thunderbird and Dementors isn’t something to be taken lightly. Dementors aren’t known to enter the Forbidden Forest without reason, and for them to attack Thor specifically? That is beyond unsettling.


    “I need details,” Adam mutters, already pulling out parchment and ink from his bag.


    He hastily pens a letter addressed to the Minister of Magic, demanding an explanation for the Dementors’ fight with his partner. They are supposed to be patrolling in search of Sirius Black—so why are they straying into the forest? And why have they engaged with Thor?


    Once he seals the letter, he whistles for Seraphina, his screech owl, who swoops down from the rafters and lands gracefully on his arm. Adam strokes her feathers gently. “Take this straight to the Ministry."


    Seraphina nips his finger affectionately before taking off, disappearing through the open windows of the Great Hall.


    Without wasting another second, Adam turns to Ron. “Where’s Hagrid now?”


    “He asked to meet you in the forest,” Ron says. “Figured you’d want to check on Thor yourself.”


    Adam nods and grabs his cloak. “Thanks, Ron.”


    The dense canopy of the Forbidden Forest muffles the mid-morning light as Adam makes his way through familiar paths. He moves quickly, his heart pounding with a mix of concern and frustration. He trusts Thor’s strength, but he needs to see him for himself.


    As he reaches the clearing where Hagrid often feeds his larger animal friends, a familiar, magnificent sight meets his eyes.


    Thor stands tall, his iridescent feathers shimmering under the filtered sunlight. He stands lazily, gazing off into the distance while Hagrid stands beside him, tossing dead ferrets into the air. With lightning-fast reflexes, Thor catches them effortlessly, gulping them down with practiced ease.


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    At the sound of approaching footsteps, Thor lifts his head and lets out a chirp—not one of distress, but of greeting. His piercing, intelligent eyes lock onto Adam.


    Adam exhales, relieved. He extends a hand, and Thor nudges it affectionately with his beak. “You’re alright,” Adam murmurs, scanning him closely for any sign of injuries. His feathers remain sleek and undamaged, and his stance holds the same confident power it always does.


    “’Course he is,” Hagrid says with a chuckle, folding his arms. “Yeh should’ve seen him, Adam. It was like watchin’ a storm fightin’ against death itself.”


    Adam turns to him, his expression serious. “Tell me everything.”


    Hagrid nods, stroking his beard as he recalls the events of the previous night.


    “Fang was the first ter notice somethin’ was wrong,” Hagrid begins. “He starts barkin’ at the sky, all nervous-like. When I look up, I see Thor hoverin’ above the treetops, wings spread wide like he’s facin’ off against somethin’. At first, I can’t see much—too dark—but then I feel it.”


    Adam doesn’t need Hagrid to elaborate. The chilling presence of Dementors is unmistakable.


    “They come at ‘im in a swarm,” Hagrid continues. “Five or six of ‘em, maybe more. But Thor doesn’t back down, not even for a second. He lets out this powerful cry—sounded like thunder crackin’ across the sky. Then, before they can get close, the air around ‘im lights up—like a storm brewin’ right then an’ there.”


    Adam clenches his jaw.


    “The Dementors try surroundin’ ‘im, but every time one gets too close, he lashes out with those wings of his—bam! A flash o’ lightning, and they reel back.” Hagrid shakes his head, his tone full of admiration. “He keeps pushin’ ‘em back, Adam. They try their usual tricks—turnin’ the air ice-cold, makin’ it hard ter breathe—but Thor just powers through. Like he won’t let ‘em win.”


    Adam’s grip tightens. The thought of Dementors swarming his thunderbird makes his blood boil.


    “In the end,” Hagrid finishes, “Thor chases ‘em all off. Sends ‘em fleein’ back into the night. And after all that, yeh know what he does?”


    Adam glances at his bird, who is now giving him a rather expectant look. “Let me guess… demands food?”


    Hagrid bursts out laughing. “Aye! Comes straight down an’ starts actin’ like it’s just another night. I had ter scrounge up extra ferrets fer ‘im. Deserved ‘em, if yeh ask me.”


    Adam exhales slowly, his emotions a mix of pride, relief, and frustration. He is grateful Thor has handled the situation so well.


    He runs his hand down Thor’s neck. “You’re incredible as always,” he mutters.


    Thor ruffles his feathers proudly, then lets out a deep, almost smug-sounding chirp.


    Adam smirks. “Yeah, yeah, you know it.”


    But inside, his mind is already working through the possibilities. The Dementors wouldn’t go this far without a reason. Whether it is an intentional move or a sign of their growing unpredictability, he needs answers.


    Adam nods, relieved that Thor has handled the situation well. The thunderbird is strong, confident, and more than capable of holding his own against threats, but the incident leaves Adam uneasy.


    Later in the day, Seraphina returns with a neatly sealed envelope bearing the Ministry of Magic’s insignia. Adam takes it from her, stroking her feathers before she flies off to rest. He breaks the seal and unfolds the parchment, eyes scanning the words carefully.


    The letter is filled with the usual pleasantries and formal apologies, but beneath the surface, it is clear that the Minister of Magic has no intention of removing the Dementors from Hogwarts. Their presence is a necessary precaution in the continued search for Sirius Black, the Minister writes, before adding that they will be more closely monitored moving forward to prevent further incidents.


    Adam scoffs quietly. It is exactly the kind of response he expected—an attempt to pacify concerns without taking real action. The Ministry’s priorities are clear: their hunt for Black outweighs the safety and well-being of students and creatures alike.


    With a sigh, he folds the letter and tucks it away. Thor has already moved on from the fight, too proud to let a few Dementors ruin his mood.


    That evening, Adam makes his way to the Room of Requirement, where Hermione is already seated at one of the conjured wooden desks, surrounded by stacks of parchment, books, and ink bottles. The air is thick with the scent of old paper and candle wax, and the enchanted ceiling above shifts slightly, mimicking the dusky sky outside.


    Hermione barely looks up when Adam enters, her quill scribbling furiously across a piece of parchment. “You’re late,” she remarks without breaking stride.


    Adam smirks as he sits across from her. “You mean I kept you waiting for two minutes?”


    She finally looks up, narrowing her eyes. “Every minute counts when you’re working with something this complicated still hiding much from me.”


    Adam chuckles but doesn’t argue. She isn’t wrong—his progress on the forbidden spell, Creation Magnify, has been painstakingly slow. Unlike Space Explode, which was destructive in nature, this spell is proving to be a far more intricate puzzle. Its incantation is complex, its mechanics delicate. He has developed several theories about its nature, particularly how magic might be woven together to magnify existing spells rather than create something entirely new. But perfecting the hand movements and refining the magical intent behind it? That’s an entirely different challenge.


    “This one’s going to take a while,” Adam admits, flipping open a leather-bound journal where he has been noting his findings. “At least a year, if not more.”


    Hermione, always eager to push forward, leans over to glance at his notes. “You’re making progress, though,” she points out. “Even if it’s slow.”


    Adam hums in agreement, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the wooden desk. “Yeah. The concept is there—I just need to figure out the right execution.”


    He glances at Hermione properly then, taking in the faint dark circles under her eyes. She has been pushing herself hard, balancing schoolwork, her Time-Turner schedule, and everything else on her plate. He knows that by the end of the year, she will drop two of her electives—though she hasn’t admitted it yet.


    “You should take a break,” Adam says.


    Hermione shoots him an unimpressed look. “I could say the same to you.”


    He smirks. “Fair enough. But I mean it. You can’t master everything at once.”


    She hesitates, as if debating whether to argue, but then sighs. “I’ll think about it.”


    Adam chuckles, knowing that’s probably the best he’ll get. For now, they return to their work, the quiet hum of magic in the Room of Requirement surrounding them as they push forward, piece by piece.


    As the Easter holiday comes to an end, Hogwarts once again buzzes with life. Students fill the corridors, some groaning about the return to classes while others frantically exchange notes, already feeling the pressure of upcoming exams. The library becomes more crowded than usual, its quiet spaces occupied by groups whispering about essay deadlines and last-minute revision plans.


    Adam, however, has little interest in the academic scramble. While he keeps up with his studies, his mind is focused on something far more pressing—the impending execution of Buckbeak. The event is now only three to four weeks away, and the weight of it settles heavily in his thoughts.


    He has no doubt that Hermione and Harry, with the aid of the Time-Turner, will do what is necessary. Their determination and resourcefulness are undeniable. But Adam isn’t the type to leave things entirely to fate. Too many variables are at play, and he needs to be absolutely certain that everything goes according to plan.


    Over the past week, he has quietly assembled a small team from within his organization—trusted individuals willing to follow his lead. Though he can’t tell them the full truth, he has given them careful instructions to remain in position on the night of the execution. Their job is simple: to be his eyes and ears, ensuring that nothing unexpected interferes with the rescue.


    Adam himself plans to stay in the library that night, ensuring that his past self and future self never cross paths. Time magic is dangerous, and even the smallest slip-up could have consequences beyond his control. He has spent countless hours refining his strategy, considering every angle. There are still risks—there always are—but he has minimized them as much as possible.


    Now, all that’s left is to wait.