THE WORDS RINGS IN THEIR EARS, "And we believe, that the ice, must melt first."

The silence in the hall was a tangible force, pressing down on everyone present. Cyrus's declaration, the chilling proposition of a life ending, hung in the air, a dark promise that sent shivers down spines. Draco's eyes, wide and unblinking, darts between Coventina and the newcomers, his mind struggling to process the impossible. He wants to speak, to break the suffocating silence, but his voice remains trapped, a silent scream within his throat.

James, his face etches with worry, looks at his daughter, Aelora, and his son, Anastacius, who stand with Coventina and Emrys. He feels a surge of paternal protectiveness, an overwhelming urge to shield them from the danger that loom at the moment. He was ready to fight, to defend them against any threat, but he has no idea what he will fight against. But nobody touch his daughter and live. Not this time.

Achilles, his usual air of stoic calm slightly fracture, watches the scene with a calculating gaze, his eyes flicking between Aelora and Anastacius. He was trying to assess the threat, to understand the implications of their words. He feels a deep unease. He was trying to figure out how to best protect his children. He feel a deep sense of irritation that he was not inform of this situation beforehand. How could death hide something like this from him? That deity was going to be pass a lot of times grabbing souls.

Sirius, his usual devil-may-care attitude replaced by a grim seriousness, stamd rigid, his eyes narrows, focusing on Antares. He is angry. He would not allow anyone to harm his son or god-daughter, but he was deeply confuse by the mention of reincarnation and intertwined souls. He was trying to work out who he would hex first.

Remina's usually bright and cheerful demeanor dimmes, watching the scene with a look of worry concentration, her eyes fixes on Antares. She was trying to understand the connection between Coventina and the newcomers, to decipher the meaning behind their cryptic words. She felt a growing sense of dread, and she wanted to help Coventina and Antares. She was trying to calm down her rapidly beating heart.

The wizards and witches, was listening, their faces etched with the lines of
experience, exchanged worried glances. They had witnessed the ebb and flow of magical power, but this was something else entirely. Whispers of ancient prophecies and the fates ripples through the crowd, a hushes murmur that show the growing sense of dread.

They had heard tales of souls bound by Fate, but they had never expected to witness such a confrontation in their own lifetime. They were trying to remember if they had any books on the subject. The halfblood - muggleborns Ravenclaws and Slytherin were more engrossea than worries. It was as if they were watching a drama on their T.V.

Aurelius, the golden hair boy with his composure strained, feel a surge of protective anger. He looked at Coventina, his little coven and saw a flicker of vulnerability that pierced his heart. He longs to shield her from the impending threat, to spirit her away from the chaos, but he knew he was powerless against the forces at play. He was trying to calculate the best way to save her. Because he failed omce.

Coventina, meanwhile, feel a strange sense of detachment, as if she were observing the scene through a veil. The words, "the ice must melt first," echoes in her mind, a haunting melody that resonated with a truth she couldn't fully comprehend. She felt a coldness, a sense of inevitability that settled deep within her bones, but she tries to remain calm. She was trying to understand the connection between her past self and the present danger. Emrys, Anastacius and Aelora were all looking at her with concern.

Antares stands unmoving, his hand a solid anchor around Coventina's. His gaze, cold and unwavering, is fixes on Odelia and Cyrus, a silent promise of retribution. He will not allow them to harm her, but the weight of their revelation was a heavy burden. He was trying to figure out how to counter a threat that was part of himself.

Coventina's mind races, a whirlwind of fierce calculations. Was this it? Was she to die, here, now? So abruptly? Her eyes hardens, a flicker of defiance igniting within their depths.

As if.

She was a Potter. A Laskos. A Malfoy.

She had claws her way through hell and back, faced down horrors that would shatter lesser souls. She had survived, thrived, become something more than what she was born. She survived.

She is not some fragile flower, destine to wilt before a whispered threat. She was forges in the fires of adversity, tempered by the chilling winds of loss. She was a survivor.

Her gaze, now sharp and unwavering, sweep across the room, taking in the worried faces of her friends, She saw the fear in Draco's eyes, the protective rage in her dad's, the calculating intensity of her father, the grim determination of Sirius, the worry concern of Remina. She saw the unwavering protection of Emrys, Anastacius and Aelora.

She will not yield.

She willd not break.

Their words still echoes in her mind, but they no longer held the same power. They were a challenge, a gauntlet thrown down, and she will meet it with the full force of her will. She was Coventina Hera Potter. And she will not be extinguishes.

"My time has yet to come," Coventina snaps, her voice a sharp crack of ice, her eyes burning with an intensity that beliefs her cool exterior.

Odelia's eyes flickers, a spark of curious amusement igniting within their molten depths. "It's neither you nor him," Odelia taunts, her words dripping with a chilling confidence.

"Intriguing," Odelia sighs, her voice laces with a hint of annoyance.. "You believe you can defy fate?"

"Fate made a mistake." Coventina states, her voice even. "And mistakes can be corrected." She adds. "I will not give my life away for it pleasure."

Cyrus's grey eyes narrows, his gaze unwavering. "You misunderstand, déesse. It is not your life we seek. It is your essence."

A tense silence appears, the air thick with unspoken questions. What did they mean by her essence? What did they want from her?

"You are ice," Odelia says, her voice laces with a strange mixture of pity and frustration. "You have always been ice. But that is not what is required."

"Required for what?" Draco asks, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Odelia's pink eyes flickers towards Draco, then back to Coventina. "For the breaking. For the end of the cycle. For the true liberation."

"You speak in riddles," Antares growls, his voice low and dangerous. He hates riddles, even though he - himself used it sometimes.

"Riddles are for those who cannot see the truth," Cyrus replies, his gaze fixes on Coventina. "The truth is that you are incomplete. You are missing a part of yourself."

Coventina's brow furrows. "And what part is that?"

Odelia's smile widens, a flash of something almost triumphant. "The fire, Coventina. The fire that burns within us all. The fire that you have suppresses for far too long."

Coventina's gaze locks onto Odelia's, a frozen challenge in her eyes. "I will not reshape myself to amuse three meddling fates!" she declares, her voice a sharp, cutting edge.

As if her defiance had summoned it, a ferocious storm descended upon Hogwarts. Thunder booms, rattling the castle windows, and lightning rips through the night, illuminating the scene with stark, blinding flashes. The wind shrieked, a wild, untamed force mirroring the conflict within the hall.

The sudden, violent storm amplified the tension, turning the already dramatic scene into a spectacle of raw power.

The older wizards and witches drawa in sharp breaths, their faces etches with worry. The younger students, even those accustomed to magical displays, were visibly startles and scares by the storm's intensity.

"Such stubbornness," Odelia muses, her pink eyes sparkling with a strange blend of admiration and amusement. "It is… persistent. But ultimately, pointless."

"Pointless?" Coventina retorts, her voice a low, icy threat. "I am not a plaything for your manipulations. I am not an empty vessel for your desired power."

"You are a fragment of us," Cyrus states, his voice steady. "And until you embrace that fragment, the cycle remains unbroken."

"Then let it remain," Coventina counters, her eyes flashing with cold determination. "I will not bend. I will not break."

The storm rages on, its fury a constant, rumbling backdrop to their confrontation. The tension in the hall crackled, a palpable energy that threatened to ignite.

"The next reincarnation will not come. I will ensure it." A smirk on her lips. "The cycle ends, not with my change, but with yours."