The air in Durmstrang remained thick with unease, but after the headmaster's speech, Dorian noticed that things were slowly beginning to return to a semblance of normality. The students whispered less, and the tense glances that had permeated every interaction were starting to fade. Still, there was an undeniable weight in the hallways, lingering like a shadow in the wake of the recent deaths.
Dorian sat in his dorm room, staring at the ceiling, trying to quiet the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He exhaled deeply, a wave of exhaustion settling over him. Despite everything that had happened—the murders, the rumors, the accusations—he felt an odd sense of relief.
It could have been him. It could have been Lyra.
The thought had gnawed at him ever since Kara's death. He knew that the darkness he wielded, the power that both enthralled and terrified him, could have easily placed him in the crosshairs of suspicion. But now, with Aric Lestrange taking the blame, the threat of discovery had been neutralized. The headmaster's declaration had effectively closed the case, and Aric would face the consequences for the deaths of both Kara and Jannik.
Dorian rose from the bed and crossed the room to the window. His hands rested on the cold stone ledge as he looked out over the bleak landscape that surrounded Durmstrang. The snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks cutting into the sky like dark daggers. Below, the grounds were nearly empty, the students either in class or holed up in their rooms, eager to avoid the cold and the ever-present tension.
He couldn't help but feel relieved that the investigation had wrapped up so quickly. Aric Lestrange wasn't exactly someone Dorian cared much about, and his downfall felt inevitable, given his connections to Kara. He had always been a weak link, someone who thrived in the shadows of stronger figures. And now he would pay the price for aligning himself too closely with her.
Dorian's mind wandered to Lyra. He hadn't seen much of her since the headmaster's announcement, but he knew that she, too, must have been relieved. They were both safe—at least for now. Neither of them had been implicated, and the staff seemed eager to sweep the entire matter under the rug. He could almost hear the silent sighs of the professors, thankful that a scapegoat had been found, and Durmstrang's reputation wouldn't be tarnished by an extended investigation.
Things will go back to normal soon, Dorian thought, though he wasn't entirely sure what normal even meant anymore. He had been living in the shadows for so long, constantly navigating the dangerous terrain of dark magic and manipulation, that the idea of normalcy felt almost foreign to him. But still, the idea that he could now focus on his own plans without the looming threat of suspicion was enough to bring him some small measure of peace.
He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift. The dark magic inside him stirred, restless as always, whispering its endless promises of power and control. It had been quieter lately, though. The recent events had taken a toll on him, and the strain of constantly suppressing the magic's more violent urges had left him drained.
But now, with the pressure easing, Dorian felt himself slowly regaining his balance. He had survived the worst of it, and now he could turn his attention back to his original goals: honing his skills, gaining power, and—eventually—confronting the enemies who had wronged him.
The thought of Lucius Malfoy came to mind, as it often did. His mother's death at the hands of the Death Eaters and the Ministry was the reason he had embarked on this path in the first place. The journal of Salazar Slytherin, the ancient rituals, the dark magic—everything he had done up to this point had been to prepare himself for the reckoning that was to come.
But that was still in the future. For now, he needed to remain focused on Durmstrang and the dark power that continued to grow within him.
Later that day, Dorian found himself walking through the corridors of Durmstrang with a renewed sense of purpose. The tension had finally begun to dissipate, and while the deaths of Kara and Jannik still lingered in the back of everyone's minds, the school was slowly returning to its regular routines.
As he made his way to his next class, Dorian overheard snippets of conversation from passing students. The whispers were less frantic now, more subdued. Most of the talk was about Aric's sudden confession and the fact that he had been taken away by the Ministry.
"He confessed to everything," a third-year muttered to her friend as they hurried past Dorian. "Kara, Jannik... he admitted to both murders."
"I still can't believe it," the other replied. "I didn't think he had it in him."
Dorian suppressed a smirk. He knew better than to underestimate how easily someone like Aric could be manipulated into doing things he might not have considered on his own. People like him were always looking for ways to climb the social ladder, and sometimes, that desperation made them do stupid things. Stupid things that made them useful tools.
He continued walking, his thoughts returning to his own plans. With the investigation closed, he could refocus on the larger picture. The time spent worrying about Kara and the fallout from her death had been a distraction—an annoying one, but a distraction nonetheless. Now, without that hanging over his head, he could resume his studies in the ancient tomes hidden in Durmstrang's darker corners, and experiment with the rituals he had yet to perfect.
As he entered his classroom, the usual hum of students preparing for the lesson greeted him, but the mood felt lighter. The tension had finally begun to ease. Even the professor seemed more relaxed, his usual scowl replaced with a neutral expression. Dorian made his way to his seat, catching a few more snippets of conversation from his classmates.
"Did you hear?" one of them asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Aric's been sent to the Ministry. They're saying he confessed everything, but... I don't know. Something about it seems off, don't you think?"
Dorian pretended not to be interested, focusing on his notes as he listened. Another student replied, "Yeah, it was too clean. I mean, one minute everyone's talking about how Kara died, and the next, Jannik is found dead. And now Aric confesses out of nowhere?"
"Well, they say he cracked under the pressure. Guess he couldn't handle it."
Dorian almost rolled his eyes. Cracked under pressure indeed. Whoever had orchestrated Aric's downfall had played their hand masterfully. It was exactly the kind of manipulation he could admire—clean, efficient, and leaving no trace of the true culprit.
He felt a small flicker of curiosity as he wondered who had been responsible for guiding Aric down that path. It wasn't him, and as far as he knew, Lyra hadn't been involved either. But whoever had done it had managed to pull it off perfectly.
Not that it mattered anymore. The important thing was that neither he nor Lyra had been implicated, and with Aric out of the picture, Dorian could continue with his own plans without any more unwanted attention.
As the class began, Dorian let his mind drift. The professor was droning on about advanced transfiguration techniques, but Dorian's focus was elsewhere. His mind was already turning toward his next steps—the next ritual he needed to perform, the next tome he needed to study.
For now, the deaths of Kara and Jannik had been dealt with, but Dorian knew that Durmstrang was a breeding ground for secrets. Power didn't come without a price, and in a place like this, everyone was playing their own game, vying for control and influence.
But that was fine with him. He thrived in the shadows, manipulating events from behind the scenes, always staying one step ahead. Let the others scramble and fight for scraps. He had his eyes set on something far greater.
By the time the day ended, the mood in the school had relaxed even further. The rumors were dying down, and students were beginning to focus on their studies again. Aric's confession had brought a sense of closure, however manufactured it might have been.
As Dorian made his way back to his room, he passed a group of students huddled together, their conversation just loud enough for him to overhear.
"Did you hear about Aric?" one of them asked. "Apparently, the Ministry isn't just taking him in for questioning. They're planning to throw him in Azkaban."
"Azkaban?" another student replied, shocked. "But he's barely of age! How could they...?"
"Well, it's not just about Kara and Jannik. They say he had connections to some pretty dark people. It's not just the murders—they're charging him with conspiracy and practicing illegal magic."
Dorian's eyebrows lifted slightly. That was new information. It seemed that whoever had orchestrated Aric's fall had gone even further than he'd expected. They weren't just pinning the murders on him—they were building an entire case around him, tying him to dark magic and conspiracy.
He almost felt a pang of pity for Aric. Almost.
But that wasn't his concern. His path was clear, and now that the chaos had settled, he could finally focus on what truly mattered—gaining more power, more control, and preparing for the battles that lay ahead.
Dorian allowed himself a small smile as he reached his room. With Aric gone and the deaths no longer casting a shadow over him, he was free to resume his studies. And this time, he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way.