Dorian had always thrived in silence. The quiet of the night, the stillness of empty corridors—these were the spaces where he could think clearly, plot meticulously, and plan without interruption. Tonight, however, even the silence seemed filled with tension. The events of the last few weeks had left a lasting mark on Durmstrang, but Dorian felt as though the chaos that had once threatened him was now fading into the background.
He walked down one of the darker hallways, his footsteps echoing faintly off the stone walls. The faint glow of enchanted torches illuminated the space, casting long shadows that danced as he passed. He wasn't headed anywhere in particular, just walking to clear his mind, to rid himself of the thoughts that still lingered after Aric Lestrange's confession.
It felt too perfect, too orchestrated. Aric had confessed, been dragged away to Azkaban, and the entire school had breathed a collective sigh of relief. It wasn't like Dorian to question things once they worked in his favor, but something about this whole situation gnawed at him. It was clear that someone had pulled strings to make this happen—someone who had played their cards well enough to remain unseen.
As he reached a window that overlooked Durmstrang's vast, snow-covered grounds, Dorian stopped, leaning against the cold stone and staring out into the night. His breath fogged up the glass, and he wiped it away absently with his sleeve. The school below was calm, almost too calm, considering everything that had happened.
He had spent the better part of the past few weeks feeling relieved that he and Lyra had managed to avoid being implicated in the murders. He knew they had both been on the edge of suspicion at one point, but whoever had crafted Aric's downfall had done it well, removing any focus from them.
But now, as the immediate danger subsided, Dorian felt the familiar itch return. The need for power, the desire to grow stronger—it had been quiet for a time, buried under the weight of the chaos, but it had never really gone away. Now that things were calming down, he could feel it resurfacing, stronger than ever.
The magic inside him stirred, as if responding to his thoughts. It whispered to him, urging him forward, telling him that this was only the beginning. He had tasted power, and he had seen what it could do. Kara's death had been brutal, but it had served as a reminder of just how fragile life could be. If he wanted to survive—if he wanted to thrive—he would need to become stronger than anyone else in Durmstrang. Stronger than Voldemort. Stronger than anyone.
The whispers were seductive, promising him everything he had ever wanted, if only he would take it. But Dorian knew better than to give in completely. The dark magic that flowed through him was powerful, but it was also dangerous. He had to remain in control, or it would consume him.
Still, the temptation was there.
As he stared out over the dark grounds, his thoughts drifted to Lyra. She had been distant lately, though he had chalked that up to everything that had been happening with the murders. Now that Aric was gone, perhaps she would return to her usual self. He missed her presence, though he would never admit it aloud. Lyra was the one person who had consistently challenged him, the one person who made him question the path he was walking.
But even Lyra couldn't change what was happening inside him. The dark magic was becoming a part of him, and every day it seemed to tighten its grip.
With a sigh, Dorian pushed away from the window and continued his walk, his mind wandering to the many questions that had yet to be answered. Kara's death had been the catalyst for all of this, but now that it was supposedly solved, what came next?
He was nearing the library when he heard footsteps ahead. Dorian slowed, his instincts kicking in, as he melted into the shadows of the hallway. The faint glow of torches didn't reach this part of the corridor, and he knew how to use the darkness to his advantage.
The footsteps grew louder, and soon, a figure came into view. It was one of the newer students, someone whose name Dorian hadn't bothered to learn. The boy was muttering to himself, glancing around nervously as he hurried through the corridor. Dorian almost ignored him—almost—but something about the way the boy kept glancing over his shoulder made him pause.
"Did you hear...?" the boy whispered to himself. "It was Jannik who found her... now he's gone too. They say Aric knew... but what if he didn't?"
Dorian's interest piqued at the mention of Jannik and Kara. He stepped out from the shadows, startling the boy, who nearly dropped the stack of books he was carrying.
"What's that about Jannik?" Dorian asked, his voice calm but firm.
The boy's eyes widened, and he stammered for a moment, clearly caught off guard. "I... I just overheard some of the others talking. You know, about Jannik... the one who found Kara dead? They're saying he's... well, he's dead too."
Dorian's gaze sharpened. "Jannik is dead?"
The boy nodded rapidly. "Yeah, yeah. They found him last night. No one knows how, but... it's suspicious, isn't it? First Kara, now Jannik? And Aric confessed to both, but... I mean, it doesn't add up, does it?"
Dorian's mind raced as he processed the information. Jannik was dead, too? And he had been the one who had found Kara's body? The pieces didn't fit together as neatly as the headmaster had made it seem. Something else was going on, and Dorian's gut told him that this wasn't a coincidence.
"Who's talking about this?" Dorian pressed, his tone low and serious.
The boy swallowed nervously. "A few of the older students. I don't know, really... I just heard it in passing."
Dorian studied the boy for a moment, then nodded curtly. "Forget you heard anything," he said, his voice carrying an edge of command. "It's not your concern."
The boy nodded quickly, muttering something incoherent before scurrying off down the hallway. Dorian watched him go, his mind churning with new possibilities.
So, Jannik was dead, too. The pattern was impossible to ignore. First Kara, then Jannik—the one who had found her body. And now, Aric had confessed to both murders, though that, too, seemed far too convenient.
There was more at play here, Dorian was sure of it. But what? Who?
He had no evidence to go on, no clear direction, but the nagging feeling in his gut told him that this wasn't over. Someone had orchestrated Aric's downfall, and someone had made sure that both Kara and Jannik were removed from the picture.
But why?
The question gnawed at him as he continued his walk through the halls. He needed answers, and more importantly, he needed to make sure that he wasn't next in line. His instincts told him that whoever had been behind this had no qualms about getting rid of obstacles—Dorian included.
As he made his way back to his dorm, he resolved to keep his guard up. He couldn't afford any mistakes. Not now. Not when things were finally starting to go his way.
He would find out who was responsible for the deaths, and he would make sure that they didn't see him coming.
The next morning, Dorian awoke early, feeling a sense of restlessness that had nothing to do with the lack of sleep. The discovery of Jannik's death had shaken him more than he cared to admit, and though the headmaster had declared the situation resolved, Dorian wasn't convinced.
As he dressed and prepared for the day, his thoughts kept circling back to the unanswered questions. Why had Jannik been killed? Had he known something? Seen something? And more importantly, who was behind it?
Dorian made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, though he had little appetite. The atmosphere in the school was still subdued, but it wasn't the suffocating tension it had been during the investigation into Kara's death. Now, there was an underlying sense of relief, as though the students were eager to move on from the horrors of the past weeks.
But Dorian couldn't shake the feeling that something was still lurking beneath the surface.
He sat at his usual spot, nodding curtly to a few of his classmates but keeping to himself. His eyes scanned the hall, searching for any signs of unease, any students whispering about Jannik's death.
Across the room, he spotted Lyra. She was seated with a few of the other students, her expression unreadable as always. Dorian couldn't help but feel a strange sense of relief when he saw her. Lyra had always been a stabilizing force in his life, even when he didn't fully realize it.
For a brief moment, their eyes met across the hall, and Lyra gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. Dorian returned the gesture, though his mind was already elsewhere. He couldn't afford to be distracted, not now.
The mystery of Jannik's death—and the truth behind Kara's—still hung over him like a dark cloud.