Regulus stood tall and composed before the hearth. In the firelight, he looked less like a boy and more like a king.

Evan leaned against the far wall with his arms crossed. His presence was brutal and... necessary.

Barty sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by parchment and scribbled maps. His hands were ink-stained as he thought.

Regulus doesn’t turn to look at you. "You're late."

You shrug, letting your cloak fall behind you. "Or maybe you're just impatient."

Barty snorts a laugh. "She arrives when the air changes — like a pressure drop before lightning strikes. Always on time, if you're listening the right way."

Evan watches you. "Why is she even here?"

Regulus’s voice is calm. "Because she knows more than any of us. And because she has no master."

You glance over the maps. "So. This is the plan? Light the world on fire and see who burns fastest?"

Regulus lifts his chin. "This is the plan to replace the world. The old one is already dy!ng."

You look at Evan. "And you’re the executioner."

He meets your gaze without flinching. "Gladly."

Your eyes slide to Barty. "And you’re the architect of madness."

"The dragon has three heads," he murmurs. "One to be a m/rderer — Evan. One to be a monarch — Regulus. And one to be mad — me," he says, tapping his own chest. Then he looks up at you, his eyes shining. "But there’s always a fourth. Not a head… but a whisper. You."

You tilt your head slightly. "And what does the whisper do?"

Barty grins. "She knows where the fire starts. And where to pour the oil."

Regulus turns to face you fully now. "You’re not one of us. You’re not branded. Not loyal. But you see the game better than anyone."

You raise an eyebrow. "That’s why I win."

Evan steps forward slightly. "And if she ever turns on us?"

"You’ll k!ll me," you reply flatly. "I know. Everyone has their role, Evan."

You pull something from your cloak — a sealed envelop and you place it on the table.

"A key to the Department of Mysteries," you say. "One use. One hour. No alarms. You get in, do what you need, and vanish. Don’t ask how I got it."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "And what do you want?"

You glance at the fire. "Options. Leverage. And the satisfaction of knowing I gave you the chance to succeed — or fail — spectacularly."

Barty lifts the envelope like it’s a relic. "It’s humming," he whispers. "Old magic. Oh, I love you when you’re like this."

"You love danger," you reply. "I just happen to wear it well."

Barty’s grin stretches. "She’s not a player on the board. She made the board. Wrote the rules. Then burned them."

"And I’ll do it again if I get bored," you say.

Regulus watches you for a long moment. "The dragon rises tomorrow. Be ready."

You sit on the couch. "I always am."

Barty chuckles. "I swear, if the world ends, it won’t be because of us. It’ll be because she let it."