The Potential for Greatness

"Fraser's magic was real, wasn't it?"

Listening to the Muggle girl, bathed head to toe in white daylight, demand an answer, and looking at her pale face, so pale it seemed almost transparent, Amosta raised a hand to stop the restless Kingsley. He took a step forward, ready to say something, but Louise at the doorway suddenly screamed as if she had been startled by something.

"Don't move!"

Louise shouted sharply, stumbling back several steps, her voice trembling.

"Don't move—"

Louise repeated herself, but her voice was much weaker this time. She stared fixedly into the room, at Amosta Breen standing on the boundary between darkness and light. The man who had undoubtedly stirred some affection in her now seemed utterly terrifying and unfamiliar.

"Answer my question—" Her voice was still weak, but it carried a hysterical edge.

Amosta fell silent for a moment. He blinked, then spread his arms before letting them fall naturally to his sides. There was a soothing strength in his deep voice.

"Everything is as you see it, Louise—"

That was all Amosta said, but the meaning behind those words contained more than an apology.

As I see it?

Louise looked at the little sticks in Amosta's and Kingsley's hands. Had they just used those sticks to perform all those miracles?

Louise's eyes reddened. She smiled, but there was desolation in that smile.

She laughed at her own stupidity—her brother had once told her with absolute certainty that magic existed, yet she had dismissed it as Fraser's delusion. She laughed at her own naivety—she had trusted a man whose background she knew nothing about and followed him to another country to investigate the truth behind Fraser's death, even though Amosta had warned her that this was not something she could involve herself in.

But none