The Noctis Codex | DRARRY

THIRTY

The page seemed empty, except for a strange black ink splatter, ominous and oily-looking. Draco, curiosity piqued, reached out and traced it with his fingertips. But then, instantly, his body went slack, collapsing to the floor before Harry could react. Panic shot through the other's veins, his heart hammering as he knelt beside the blond. What was going on? Without thinking, he touched the ink too—and in an instant, felt himself pulled from his body, consciousness swirling into a dark void.

When Harry's eyes opened again, he found himself lying on rough ground with Draco beside him. It looked like one of their shared nightmares, yet something felt different. A chill lingered in the air, heavier than before, and they seemed to be in an old village, its crude houses made from rough stone and covered with ivy. The night was thick around them, only broken by a few torches mounted on the ancient buildings. Harry quickly scrambled to zip his pants and buckle his belt, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Where are we?" he whispered, glancing at Draco, who had sat up, just as dazed.

He shook his head. "I have no idea, but...this place looks old."

Suddenly, movement caught their eye—a woman with long, tangled brown hair darted out of one of the crumbling houses. She wore a torn, dusty dress, and her eyes darted around cautiously as she slipped into the cover of the trees. Instinctively, the boys followed her, calling out, but she moved ahead without turning back, almost as if she couldn't hear them.

She weaved her way deeper into the forest until she reached a massive tree, its huge roots stretching out like twisted fingers.
Suddenly the night air was filled with the steady, rhythmic sound of hooves, and then a figure emerged—a man on horseback. He slid down from his horse and immediately embraced the woman, his refined attire starkly contrasting with her simple dress. Even in the dim light, they could see his blonde hair glinting.

Draco took in the sight, a flicker of confusion and recognition flashing across his face. "Did she...did she just call him Prince Malfoy?"

"Is that...your ancestor?"

"I... I guess so," the blond replied, a mix of awe and disbelief in his voice. "But what's he doing here? And with her?"

They watched in silence as the man leaned forward, speaking in a voice filled with reverence. "Tonight, Evelina, we shall join our magic in a way that binds us beyond time. Our bond will be immortal. I may not be able to make you my princess Evelina Potter, but I can assure you that from now on, we will be able to meet every night."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Evelina Potter. The name echoed in his mind like a revelation, turning his shock into something else entirely. His gaze darted to Draco, whose jaw had dropped in disbelief.

"Potter?" The Slytherin muttered, eyes wide. "That... that's your ancestor?"

Harry nodded slowly, his own shock deepening. "It seems like it. They're... they're in love."

The two young wizards could barely process it. The realization hung between them like an electric charge, every interaction, every moment they had shared suddenly making sense. The strange connection, the cursed bond, the book's enchantment—it was all linked to them, passed down through their bloodlines.

Meanwhile, the scene continued to unfold as the Prince drew a weathered book from a leather satchel—the same book that Harry and Draco had discovered. Its pages were blank except for a few runes, but as the prince opened it, text began to glow faintly. He pressed his hand to Evelina's, guiding her fingers to rest alongside his on the page. Their voices rose together in incantation, their magic flowing from them and weaving into a silvery, shimmering bond that stretched between them, pulsing with life.