Chapter 73 – Alchemical Dreams and Letters
In the quiet corridor of Smith Castle, the magical torches flickered gently, casting golden hues across the ancient stone walls. It was late July, and Alexander Smith sat cross-legged in the study, the air around him thick with the scent of parchment, ink, and bubbling potions.
Over the past week, news of his new book's release had slowly spread across both wizarding and Muggle circles. Though it was written under a pseudonym, those with insight—particularly Dumbledore—had likely already guessed the author's identity. But Alexander wasn't concerned. What truly occupied his thoughts was the series of intricate enchantments he had been inscribing into the castle's architecture—runes and wards that would soon become part of the most advanced magical project of his life.
He carefully carved a glowing rune into the edge of a brass astrolabe, one of the many magical instruments lining his alchemical workbench. The castle itself had become a project of living magic—part fortress, part projection, part spiritual sanctuary. With the assistance of the Lord God's divine spark, he had embedded the core structure within a concealed pocket dimension, inspired by the Fidelius Charm's logic but far beyond its typical use.
Unlike the Potters' hiding place, which had ultimately been betrayed, Smith Castle had no human Secret Keeper. Its secret was kept within the heart of the Lord God—an omnipresent, indestructible consciousness. In Alexander's mind, that meant one thing: true invincibility.
A soft chime echoed across the room. The communication orb on his desk shimmered with green light.
"Penelope," Alexander said, recognizing the resonance signature. He tapped the orb, and a small projection of Penelope Clearwater appeared, her face both thoughtful and amused.
"You're still working?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you even sleep?"
Alexander chuckled. "Not much. There's too much to be done. Besides, I like the quiet before my birthday. It helps me focus."
Penelope gave him a look. "Try not to be too focused. Kate and I are visiting tomorrow, remember? You're not allowed to skip your own birthday."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Alexander replied. "The fairies finished the courtyard decorations. I think you'll like what they've done."
"Oh, I'm sure. But don't expect us to be impressed just by a few floating lights. Kate wants cake. Real cake. With exploding frosting."
Alexander smiled. "Exploding frosting. Noted."
The projection vanished, leaving a quiet warmth in the room. Despite the coming celebration, Alexander couldn't shake a feeling of restlessness. Something in the magical current of the world was stirring. A tension, perhaps? Or a convergence?
He walked to the large enchanted window overlooking the forest beyond the castle walls. The moon was rising, casting silver light over the treetops. Somewhere, far from Smith Castle, a half-giant named Rubeus Hagrid was knocking on the door of a miserable house in Surrey, ready to introduce Harry Potter to a world he should have known all along.
Alexander had seen it in a dream the previous night—a massive figure breaking down a wooden door, a boy with glasses staring in stunned silence, and a letter trembling in his hand.
The gears of fate were beginning to turn.
He turned from the window and sat at the piano in the corner. With a quiet breath, he placed his fingers on the keys and began to play—a melody born of expectation, power, and the strange loneliness that came with always knowing more than you were supposed to.
As the notes echoed through the halls of Smith Castle, Alexander allowed himself a moment of stillness.
Tomorrow, the guests would arrive. Penelope. Kate. Maybe others. And beyond tomorrow… Hogwarts.
A storm was coming. And Alexander Smith was ready.
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