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Last of The Fae Chapter 135: A chaotic Start to Year Three
🕑 Added 2025-03-15 19:41:11 +0000 UTCThane stirred the boiling cauldron before him, his movements methodical, his thoughts entirely absorbed in his work.
Then—a familiar sensation.
The subtle displacement of air. The pull of apparation magic shifting space.
Daphne had entered his lab.
That alone was surprising. She hadn’t come down here in months. It was always he who visited her, Luna, or Rose, after reaching a point where he could pull himself away from whatever groundbreaking research had consumed him.
"Thane… Thane?!"
"Just a second, my love," Thane replied without looking up.
His hands moved precisely, lowering a heavy lid onto the bubbling cauldron, bolting it down with a series of latches and clamps. He worked quickly, securing the entire structure with thick chains, each one as dense as his arms. Only once the setup was completely locked in place did he step away, peeling off his thick protective goggles, gloves, and apron.
As he hung his protective equipment on the hooks by the door, he turned his attention to Daphne, greeting her with a warm smile.
She, however, was staring past him in disbelief.
"When did you build this?"
Thane followed her gaze to the massive mithril pillbox—its smooth, unadorned walls a stark contrast to the organic wooden architecture of Fae Manor. Positioned dead center in his lab, it looked utterly foreign, an anomaly within his carefully curated space.
"A few weeks ago, I believe," Thane answered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Though you know how quickly time gets away from me when I’m down here."
Daphne grunted, clearly resisting the urge to lecture him about his obsessive tendencies. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then paused—her eyes narrowing as she looked directly at him.
Then, with confusion lacing her voice—
"Your aura… why can’t I feel it?"
Thane blinked, momentarily thrown off, before realization dawned.
"Ah," he murmured, reaching down and sliding a plain iron band from his finger.
The moment the metal left his skin, his aura unfurled—heavy, overwhelming, but not oppressive. Instead of pressing down on Daphne, his magic wrapped around her like a protective shield, as if recognizing her presence.
"Apologies," Thane said, slipping the ring into his pocket. "For one of my experiments, I needed a completely sterile space—free from all contaminants, including any trace of ambient mana or even my own magical presence. So, I created a magical deprivation chamber—and this… what I call a suppression ring."
Daphne held up a hand.
"Wait a minute… I thought ambient mana didn’t exist?"
A flicker of excitement sparked across Thane’s face.
"That’s what I thought too… until I made the chamber a true vacuum, completely isolated from the outside world. The first time I stepped inside… it felt like I was being suffocated."
Daphne’s brows knitted together as she tried to grasp his implication.
"I knew something was missing, but I couldn’t immediately determine what. Of course, it took time to confirm my suspicions, but eventually, I proved it—there is ambient mana. Traces—tiny, minuscule amounts—present everywhere."
Thane’s voice brimmed with fascination, his green eyes glowing with discovery.
"I believe it’s the last remnants of Yggdrasil’s magic, left behind from all those millennia ago."
Daphne exhaled sharply.
"Then… what happens if it runs out?"
At that, a grave look crossed Thane’s face.
"I had the same question myself."
His fingers tightened slightly around the iron band in his pocket.
"So, I started experimenting inside the chamber, and I found that after using my magic… my mana didn’t regenerate."
Daphne’s eyes widened.
"H-how is that possible? I thought the soul—"
Thane shook his head.
"Another falsehood," he interrupted. "While the soul no doubt regulates our mana reserves, it seems ambient mana plays a vital role in replenishment and circulation. Without it… magic depletes. And when it’s gone—"
Daphne’s throat tightened.
"Then that’s it, isn’t it? No more magic."
Thane nodded, his expression grim.
"I believe so."
For a moment, the dystopian thought hung between them—an unimaginable world, a world stripped of magic, reduced to nothing more than cold logic and mundane existence.
But then—
Thane reached out, taking Daphne’s hand in his own.
His touch was warm, steady.
"But we won’t let that happen, will we?"
Daphne looked up at him, the dark possibilities shattering beneath his conviction.
A slow, confident smile pulled at her lips, "Of course not."
Thane replied with a similar smile, "Good, now I know you didn't come down here for nothing. What did you want to talk about?"
Thane watched as Daphne’s confident smile faded, replaced by a deeply troubled look.
"Oh yes," she murmured, her voice lowering slightly, "Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban last night."
Thane blinked, his expression shifting to one of mild curiosity.
"Sirius Black…" he repeated, searching his memory. The name was familiar, but not something he had ever given much thought to.
Daphne crossed her arms, clearly expecting him to catch up on his own, but when his gaze remained expectant, she sighed.
"He was a double agent for Voldemort—the one who betrayed the Potters, giving up their location to the Dark Lord."
Thane nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place.
"Ah. Yes, I remember now."
He tapped a finger against his chin, brows furrowing slightly.
"And he escaped from Azkaban… impressive."
"That's putting it lightly," Daphne said dryly.
Thane's mind began to turn, his analytical side already dissecting the information.
"Do they believe he had outside help?"
Daphne shook her head.
"No one knows how he did it," she admitted, a faint crease forming between her brows. "One morning, the guards found his cell empty, and there was no trace of him left behind."
Thane fell into thoughtful silence.
"There’s a large possibility that a fragment of Voldemort’s soul somehow found its way to his old follower," he mused.
Then, almost immediately, he shook his head, dismissing the thought.
"But then again… if I were a disembodied soul, the last place I’d want to latch onto would be a prison guarded by soul-eating wraiths."
Daphne gave him a pointed look.
"You’re not wrong," she admitted. "But the Ministry is still in an uproar. And once it becomes public news, imagine the backlash. If Black could escape, what’s stopping any other murderous witches or wizards from doing the same?"
Thane merely shrugged, unbothered.
"Possibly. But what does this have to do with us?"
Daphne let out an exasperated sigh, clearly expecting that response.
"Because," she said, glaring at him, "my mother told me that the Ministry is considering posting Dementors on school grounds to search for Black."
Thane stilled, his expression turning blank for half a second before he let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"So," he said, shaking his head in dry amusement, "the Ministry is fine with unleashing soul-sucking monsters around children, but I can’t breed a tiny snake?"
He glanced at Daphne, raising a brow.
"The level of hypocrisy is enough to kill someone."
Daphne groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"That’s what I said!"
Thane leaned back against his workstation, arms folding across his chest.
"So, what? The Ministry thinks turning Hogwarts into a hunting ground for Dementors is the best way to ensure student safety?"
Daphne huffed.
"Apparently."
Thane rolled his eyes, his mind already calculating the potential outcomes.
"That’s going to be a disaster," he muttered. "First of all, Dementors are barely controllable at the best of times. Second, they feed on fear—and Hogwarts is filled with hundreds of hormonal, anxious teenagers. They’re practically setting up a damn buffet for them."
Daphne sighed, crossing her arms.
"I know. And I don’t like it either."
Thane was silent for a moment, considering his options.
Then he smirked.
"Well. At the very least, it’ll be entertaining to watch the Ministry’s incompetence explode in their faces."
Daphne gave him a deadpan stare.
"Thane."
He sighed.
"Fine, fine. Once the school year starts I'll talk to Dumbledore. But I’m not wasting my energy saving the Ministry from its own idiocy."
"You’d rather just watch the school fall into a Dementor-induced depression spiral?"
Thane tapped his fingers against the table, eyes gleaming in amusement.
"I mean, if it gets too bad, I’ll just invent something to fix it and spin another story about how the ministry is holding back magic."
Daphne let out an exasperated sigh.
"Sometimes, I genuinely can’t tell if you’re brilliant or completely insufferable."
Thane’s smirk widened.
"Why not both?"
