Chapter 413: Good Luck is Knocking
A dream that exists specifically for you.
These words left Hannah Abbott in a daze for a long time. She looked at her own sleeping profile within the mist, then turned back to see the black cat nudging the dream-cluster, allowing it to drift slowly toward her.
Simultaneously, the vapors surrounding the cat seemed to gain a life of their own. Over seventy smaller clusters of mist drifted out, hovering around Hannah like a constellation of soft, glowing bubbles.
She could see it now: her friends, her housemates—every single one of them was connected to her by a faint, shimmering thread of silver. It didn't matter if they had bickered the day before or hadn't spoken for a week; the link remained.
"Sleep grants the soul its freedom; reality and distance are no obstacle here," the cat said, his voice echoing in the void. "What the day shuts away, the dream offers back to us."
Sean understood the invisible network connecting the young wizards' dreams perfectly.
"I can see Susan... and Ernie... even Neville..." Hannah whispered, her eyes wide with wonder as she peered into the mist-bubbles. Through the swirling vapor, she caught glimpses of her friends' sleeping thoughts. It was extraordinary.
"One, two, three... seventy-six..." She counted on her fingers. When she reached the final number, the cat's ears gave a small, meaningful twitch.
He had his answer. The ritual was complete.
"Oh! Would you... would you answer my other questions?" Hannah asked tentatively, finishing her count. "Will you still be in the castle when I wake up?"
"I have always been here," the cat replied.
"Merlin's beard..." Hannah's face turned a deep shade of pink. "And... well, we held that massive gathering over the Valentine's break. Seventy-seven of us in total. Did you... did you see us?"
"Mmm," the cat nodded.
"Brilliant..." Hannah looked up as the cat began to draw the mist-clusters back, settling them near the anchor of the Victorian house.
"Now, then. I wish you a pleasant dream." With a flick of the cat's tail, a wisp of pale, soothing vapor drifted toward her.
Hannah had asked whose dream this was—hers or the cat's. In truth, both were correct, but the cat held the reins. In this realm, Sean could manipulate the vapors, sifting through desires and distilling wisdom. He channeled a series of peaceful, happy images toward Hannah, ensuring the young witch would have the best night's sleep of her life.
What the cat didn't realize was that she was already experiencing it.
"May I ask one last thing?" Hannah asked urgently as the fog began to rise around her.
The cat, having jumped down from the cluster, gave a single nod.
"Will you always be there? How will we find you?" Her voice grew louder, as if she were shouting across a widening canyon.
"I shall only leave when no one has need of me anymore," the cat replied after a moment's thought. "At Hogwarts, those who ask for help will always find it."
With a final swish of his tail, Hannah vanished into the mist, carrying the surreal warmth of the encounter back to the waking world.
The Lands Between grew even more brilliantly white.
The black cat followed a specific, glowing silver thread, weaving through the infinite folds of the world behind the Veil. He finally understood the origin of those "Yarn Balls."
It had been a ritual. The gathering of seventy-seven students had unintentionally anchored their collective magic to him. That specific number, combined with their shared focus and the latent magic of the castle, had forged a massive, living conviction. It was a link tied to the "Greatest Magic"—the power of shared belief and protection.
Sean couldn't yet grasp the full mechanics of it, but the mystery set his heart racing with academic excitement.
The cat moved with increasing grace, his speed through the void doubling. Investigating the deeper laws of magic always filled him with a restless energy.
After several minutes of high-speed transit, the cat came to a halt.
He had reached a familiar shore, but the scenery had changed. The once-desolate lakeside was now home to a small, sturdy cottage. Plumes of grey smoke curled from the chimney, and the front yard was a riot of blooming flowers.
Curious, Sean stepped onto the flagstones of the garden. He spotted several peculiar items resting near the porch. A rusted sword encrusted with rubies was driven into the soil like a boundary marker; a row of vibrant, multi-colored plants lined the walls in a winding pattern; and a magnificent staff carved with serpent-like motifs leaned against a pillar.
As the cat padded through the garden, he passed beneath copper flowerpots hanging from pumpkin vines. Curling ferns and trailing ivy reached down as he passed, their leaves gently brushing his fur as if attempting to groom him.
Sean mused that the garden felt remarkably like something Helga Hufflepuff would have planted. After all, the Hufflepuff basement was famous for its sentient, friendly flora.
He reached the heavy wooden door. He raised a paw to knock, but then spotted a tiny secondary door at the base of the frame. A small sign above it read: [BLACK CATS ONLY].
"Helena, did you hear that? Luck is knocking at the door."
A voice called out from inside the house. Sean stayed where he was, refusing to use the cat-flap. He was a wizard, after all.
"Come in, my dear Druid," the voice prompted again.
"I'm an Animagus," the cat muttered.
"Sean!"
The door swung open, and a familiar figure stood there.
"Helena." The cat's whiskers twitched with the joy of a long-awaited reunion.
Helena Ravenclaw's previously translucent, grey form had gained a startling density. Sean could see the vivid blue of her eyes and the rich forest-green of her dress.
"You see, Sean? Because of you, a part of me is no longer trapped in the grey. I have found my color again," she said with a radiant smile.
The cat went still, looking uncharacteristically bashful. He followed her into the cottage.
Unbeknownst to them, as they stepped inside, another wizard happened to be wandering nearby. He clutched an old book, his eyes and mouth hanging open as he witnessed the entire exchange. His Quick-Quotes Quill moved frantically across a piece of parchment:
[Yes, I, the wizard Rite, have always maintained that the Legend of the Lucky Black Cat was true. But never did we know how to properly wait for him. Now, I understand. A wizard in the Lands Between must always leave a small door open in their heart—for that is where luck enters.]
The wizard named Rite didn't move. He stared at the garden, remembering that this place had once been a barren wasteland. His mind felt as though it were being filled with fireworks. He scribbled again:
[Where there was once only ash and silence, there are now flowers. Wizard Rite concludes: to possess the flowers is to possess the luck.]
[End of Chapter 413]
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