The night before the results were posted, I stood alone beneath the Astronomy Tower. Not because it gave a good view — though it did — but because it was the quietest pce in the castle where the stars didn’t feel like they were watching me.

  Because tonight, I wanted to look back at something else.

  I closed my eyes.

  And opened them again.

  They burned with memory.

  Two crimson spirals bloomed to life in the reflection of the window: a pair of tomoe-ced eyes that didn’t belong in this world — at least not before I came here.

  But these weren’t just the Sharingan anymore.

  No. That was gone with chakra, sealed with my corpse in the st world.

  These… these eyes were something else.

  Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan — yes, that was what they were called once. Eyes that saw fate, movement, the shifting of emotion into action. Back then, I wielded them with chakra: a force that bent to will and battle.

  But here? There was no chakra.

  And yet they worked.

  Because the magic in this world… it responded. Not like chakra. Not as moldable. Not obedient. It flowed into my eyes like it belonged there — as if they were wells deep enough to drink from something even this world hadn’t understood yet.

  I raised my hand, not to cast, but to call.

  From within my body — or perhaps from somewhere deeper — the Susanoo stirred.

  And behind me, flickering in blue outlines, there it was.

  Not full. Not formed. But present. A ribcage. Shoulders. Eyes of its own. Hovering just behind me like the ghost of a god.

  It was magic-born now, not chakra-wrought.

  Stronger?

  No.

  Stranger.

  I didn’t let it complete. Not here. Not now. Not until I was sure.

  My family didn’t survive a world war and prejudice just for me to bring a weapon of one into their lives.

  I shut it down.

  My eyes returned to bck.

  And I whispered, “Not yet.”

  The next morning, of course, was less dramatic and more… Jake.

  “AAAAAAHHHHH—WE’RE IN! WE’RE IN! DESMOND, YOU MADE IT AS BEATER! NATE—KEEPER! I’M A CHASER!”

  Jake’s screeching echoed through the Gryffindor common room like someone had set a banshee on fire.

  The parchment pinned to the wall bore seven names under the freshly printed heading:

  GRYFFINDOR FIRST-YEAR QUIDDITCH TEAMChasers: Jake Dawson, Rebecca Moore, Caden Flint

  Keeper: Nathaniel Rowe

  Beaters: Desmond Blume, Leo Summers

  Seeker: Avery Goldwing

  Nathaniel adjusted his gsses. “I made Keeper. Guess chess-in-the-sky worked.”

  Desmond cracked his knuckles. “Bludgers are gonna fear me.”

  And Jake?

  He wrapped his arms around all of us, even me — despite my perfectly expressed ck of participation — and yelled, “WE’RE HAVING A PARTY! IN THE GREAT HALL. TONIGHT.”

  I tried to say no.

  Then he said the magic words.

  “I smuggled in co.”

  …Damn him.

  That Night – The Great HallTo no one’s surprise, the Gryffindor table was chaos incarnate.

  Jake had dragged two long benches together, covered them in conjured tablecloths, and piled sweets high enough to qualify as a structural hazard. He’d managed — Merlin knows how — to get his muggle-born hands on a stash of soda bottles, which now hissed and fizzed with forbidden carbonation glory.

  “I love you, Jake Dawson,” said Desmond, mouth full of Sugar Quills.

  “Only a little bit?” Jake grinned.

  Evie Lockhart showed up halfway through, fnked by her friends, two other first-year Gryffindor girls. Jake immediately tripped over a bench trying to stand and greet them.

  “Welcome! Sit anywhere! Cake? Caelum’s notebook? It’s off-limits unless you want to see the secrets of the universe.”

  Evie smiled politely. “I’ll take the cake.”

  She nodded at me. “Nice duel with the centaur, by the way. They’re still talking about it in Charms.”

  “I noticed,” I said, sipping butterbeer. “Nothing says ‘low profile’ like being challenged by a magical beast mid-field trip.”

  Jake cpped his hands. “Okay, Caelum — spill. Those eyes. Were they, like, a secret spell? Is it your family magic? Are you a half-demon? An elf prince? Can I borrow them if I lose my gsses?”

  “They’re just eyes, Jake.”

  “LIES. Glowing eyes are never just eyes.”

  Desmond chimed in, “Bet they shoot sers.”

  “Only on weekends.”

  The music rolled in from enchanted instruments someone had charmed to py without contact. The candles floated lower than usual, as if enjoying the party themselves. Even McGonagall appeared briefly, standing at the doorway like a cat trying to decide if she wanted to tolerate the mice dancing in her kitchen.

  She didn’t stay long.

  But she watched.

  That night, when the party ended and the lights dimmed, and Jake finally stopped dancing with an empty soda bottle ciming he’d invented "air Quidditch", I slipped away to the windows once again.

  The stars hadn’t changed.

  But I had.

  My eyes… were evolving.

  Not just in power, but in purpose.

  Back in the st world, they were a weapon of vengeance.

  Here… maybe they could be something else.

  Maybe in this world, they wouldn’t end it.

  Maybe they’d protect it.

  Or at least — protect those I loved.

  I touched the gss, watching the reflection of eyes that remembered death, but now stared into a world of magic.

  And I whispered again, to no one in particur—

  “Not yet.”