Another life. Another identity.

Paths Forgotten

Once the formalities were done with, Neville and Luna took ever and took them to the suites, which is where they are staying.  Listening to Harri while everyone settled in their rooms, both Neville and Luna promised to help them out when there were no classes or teacher duties.  Leaving for their afternoon classes, Harri went to organise Teddy's and her rooms while everyone else dispersed to their own rooms with the expectation that they would all come to the main living room and discuss their next plans. 

With the afternoon sun casting golden light through stained glass, Harri departed to prepare the rooms for herself and young Teddy, who slumbered peacefully, untouched by the stirrings of destiny. The others, drawn by silent understanding, retreated to their own sanctuaries, knowing they would soon reconvene in the great hearth-lit chamber to chart the course of their next endeavour.

Alone for a moment, Harri turned to the tomes she had brought—ancient volumes bound in dragonhide and inked with secrets. Katrina's name surfaced again and again, a whisper in the margins. Her research revealed a truth cloaked in shadow: to hide that which is most precious, one must entrust it to the Goblins, keepers of vaults and riddles. Yet therein lay peril—for the Goblins and the Vampires had been bitter foes since the dark reign of Grindelwald.

So where, then, would a vampire who once wielded a wand conceal such a treasure? The answer shimmered like moonlight on water: follow Katrina's path. And in doing so, Harri knew the vampires who had journeyed with her—bound by blood and ancient pacts—would be the key to unlocking what lay hidden.

When the companions gathered in the great chamber, warmed by the flickering hearth and ancient tapestries, they beheld a sight both wondrous and solemn. Upon the central table, Harri had unfurled a vast parchment—a map of the known realms, etched with silver ink and enchanted to shimmer beneath candlelight. Threads of crimson and gold stretched across continents, anchored by gleaming pins, each marking the passage of a vampire through the ages since their turning.

Damon's trail was the simplest to trace, a quiet path circling the shadowed lands near Mystic Hall, as though bound by unseen chains to its haunted stones. Stephan's journey mirrored his brother's, though his thread briefly intertwined with those of Klaus and Rebekka, a moment of convergence that pulsed with ancient power. Elijah's route, too, followed the wake of Klaus, as if drawn by fate or blood oath.

And so, as the map whispered its secrets to those who dared to listen, it became clear—the key lay in Klaus's path. His journey, tangled and far-reaching, held the answers they sought, and perhaps the doorway to what had long been hidden.