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Harry Potter: The Artisan's Path Chapter 91
🕑 Added 2024-11-18 13:09:09 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the next chapter. Finally got this one out. From now on, the chapters will be more consistent now that my niece and nephew are settled in.
Chapter 91
Harry tensed as someone approached his bed. As they passed by the window with the moonlight streaming in, Harry recognised Lockhart's face, but something was wrong. The professor's usual theatrical demeanour had vanished, replaced by an eerie stillness.
Nagini, who had been coiled beside Harry's bed as usual, raised her massive head. Her scales rasped against the stone floor as she uncoiled, body tensing for action. A warning hiss escaped her—not the usual threatening sound she made, but something closer to genuine alarm.
What happened next made Harry's blood run cold.
"Stand aside, serpent. This doesn't concern you," Lockhart hissed.
Their eyes met across the room. At that moment, Harry knew this wasn't Lockhart at all. The professor's wand came up with frightening speed, but Nagini was already moving.
She struck like lightning, her enormous body launching across the space between them. But Lockhart—or whatever was controlling him—was faster. A brutal blast of magic caught her mid-strike, sending her massive form crashing into the wall with enough force to crack the stone.
Hedwig appeared, a streak of white fury. Her talons found Lockhart's face, drawing blood as she raked across his skin. His snarl of pain turned to something darker as he cast a sickly green curse that Harry recognised with horror. The Killing Curse missed Hedwig by inches, leaving a scorched, smoking mark on the ceiling.
Rage flooded through Harry. He flung several Incarcerator spell cards in rapid succession, each one aimed to trap or disable rather than harm. But Lockhart moved with impossible agility, twisting away from each attack as if he could predict them. His movements were fluid, predatory—nothing like the bumbling professor they knew.
As Lockhart raised his wand again, flames erupted between them. Fawkes appeared and his talons sank deep into Lockhart's shoulders. The next moment, they disappeared from the room.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Neville's head appeared between his bed curtains, his face filled with sleepy confusion.
The commotion had fully woken the dormitory. Dean scrambled for his wand while Seamus nearly fell out of bed. Ron sat up groggily, mouth opening and closing without sound.
"Harry?" Susan's worried voice came from behind his curtains. "Are you alright? What's happening?"
"Everything is fine," Harry reassured her. "Better get dressed before you give the boys an eyeful."
The rustling of clothes indicated that she was following his suggestion.
Harry rushed over to check on Nagini. The massive snake was already coiling herself up, radiating indignation rather than injury.
"That man was possessed," Nagini hissed, her scales still bristling with agitation.
Harry paused in his examination. "You're certain? Could it be Imperius or another form of control?"
"No. Even if he is Imperiused, it doesn’t give him the ability to speak the noble tongue. Something else is going on.”
The boys began questioning him, and to get them off his back, he told them that Lockhart had attacked him in their room. That silenced them, and their faces were filled with fear.
Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers when she landed on his shoulder, his mind racing through the implications. Lockhart had cast the Killing Curse without hesitation or preparation—a spell that required significant power and true intent to murder. It only added weight to Nagini’s suspicions that it wasn’t Lockhart who had intruded on his dormitory room.
"Ron," Harry said, turning to the boy. "Get Percy. We need to alert my grandmother immediately."
Ron nodded, pale and shaking before bolting from the room.
Susan peeked out from behind the curtains, wrapping Harry's blanket around herself. She blushed furiously when she noticed the other boys staring, quickly ducking back with a squeak.
"So," Seamus drawled, clearly trying to lighten the mood, "about Susan in your bed..."
"Not now," Harry cut him off sharply. "And I'd appreciate it if that particular detail stayed quiet."
"What's in it for us?" Dean asked.
"Simple. I don't set the twins on you."
"You can't control those menaces," Seamus scoffed.
Harry grinned. "No, but they can be brought for the right price and I have plenty of galleons."
Fawkes reappeared, settling on Harry's free shoulder. The phoenix trilled softly, nuzzling against Harry's hair in reassurance.
"Thanks for the save," Harry said quietly. "Where did you drop our possessed professor?"
The phoenix shared a mental image that made Harry grin—a vast Arctic wasteland in the grip of a vicious blizzard, with Lockhart's form being buffeted by howling winds.
"Serves him right," Harry muttered. "Though I doubt it will inconvenience him for long."
The door burst open as Minerva swept in, her tartan dressing gown belted tightly and her wand ready. Percy hovered anxiously behind her, his prefect badge hastily pinned to his pyjamas. Her eyes took in everything—the scorch mark on the ceiling, the cracked wall where Nagini had hit, and the dishevelled beds.
"Would you care to explain," she said in that dangerously quiet voice that Harry knew all too well, "exactly what is going on here?"
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long night.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
24th May
The club gathered in their usual spot after classes. Hermione had them buried in revision, her anxiety reaching a fever pitch. With end-of-year exams looming and their Muggle coursework deadlines approaching, Harry barely had time to think, let alone work on his projects. Any thoughts of skipping revision were quickly dashed by the memory of his grandmother's stern glare. While these exams weren't as important as OWLs or NEWTs, that argument wouldn't hold water with Minerva McGonagall.
The castle buzzed with tension after last night's events. The professors stood guard at House entrances while the headmaster called in the Aurors. The initial report of Lockhart's disappearance had been dismissed. There was no evidence of foul play and his quarters had been stripped bare, suggesting the man had run away and abandoned his duties. But when Lockhart reappeared and attacked a student, it had to be taken more seriously.
Amelia Bones arrived with a team of Aurors. She questioned Harry first, with his grandmother present throughout. At Minerva's pointed look, Harry didn't hold back about the possession angle.
"Nagini confirmed it," he explained to Madam Bones. "Lockhart's never shown any sign of being a Parselmouth before. The ability came from somewhere else."
Amelia frowned, making notes. "Could Fawkes retrieve Lockhart from where he was left?"
Harry shook his head. "He's already gone. Fawkes checked."
"The phoenix acted appropriately in defending students," Amelia said. "But if Lockhart can breach Gryffindor Tower so easily, we must assume he has access to any part of the castle whenever he wants."
When Charlus arrived, he pulled Harry aside and questioned him about the incident. His face darkened with each detail Harry revealed. Charlus told him what he had learnt from Sirius about the diary that had been smuggled into the school.
“Do you think it’s a Horcrux?” Harry asked, the idea coming to mind immediately. “It explains the possession. And the fact that Terry felt a familiar presence when he was attacked earlier this year.”
Charlus nodded. “It’s the likeliest explanation. I need to speak to Croaker. He may know if it's possible for abilities to be used by others while they are possessed.”
Harry had a hard time sleeping last night. His mind kept replaying the attack. Knowing that a piece of Voldemort's soul was walking around wearing Lockhart like a suit, made his skin crawl. Even with Amelia's additional security measures, Harry could not shake the sense of vulnerability. He already had enough enemies and didn’t need any more.
Perhaps it was time to seriously consider alternatives. The thought of America, which had seemed like an idle fantasy before, now felt more compelling. A temporary relocation wouldn't mean abandoning his responsibilities—just approaching them from a safer distance while he developed his skills further.
But even as he considered it, Harry knew he was fooling himself. Running away wouldn't solve anything. Besides, he had people here who depended on him
Harry's brooding thoughts were interrupted when his grandfather approached their study corner in the library, Draco trailing behind him. The Slytherin looked paler than usual, dark circles under his eyes suggesting sleepless nights. Harry's friends exchanged curious looks at his presence but remained silent as his grandfather addressed Harry.
"We need to speak privately," Charlus said quietly.
Harry nodded and followed them to a secluded alcove near the Restricted Section, well away from any eavesdroppers. Madam Pince's suspicious gaze followed them briefly before returning to her cataloguing. "What's this about?"
Draco shifted uncomfortably, his usual confidence notably absent. His fingers kept fidgeting with the sleeves of his robe—a nervous tick Harry had never seen in him before. "I was responsible for attacking you at the deathday party. And Terry too." As Harry's expression darkened, Draco hastily continued, his words tumbling out, "I don't remember doing it, but the timing and certain irregularities suggest I was responsible. But I was under the diary's influence."
"What about the Quidditch Cup incident?" Harry asked sharply.
Draco noticed the movement and looked down, shame evident on his face. His shoulders slumped—a stark contrast to his usual rigid posture. "That was me, but the diary probably influenced my emotions as well."
"And the other incidents?"
"What other incidents?" Draco's confusion seemed genuine, his grey eyes meeting Harry's directly for the first time in the conversation.
"The greenhouse, for instance?"
Draco's brow furrowed. "I don't know anything about that."
"Based on what Draco's told us,” Charlus interjected, “and the timing of events, I believe he's not responsible for those incidents. I'm certain they were Lockhart's work on behalf of Obsidian. The pattern fits their methods."
"How could you possibly know that?" Harry demanded.
"Lockhart let something slip," Draco explained. "He took me under his wing, but only to use me. He's the one who supplied the powder that blinded you during the Quidditch match. He said something about having other plans in motion... I didn't understand what he meant at the time."
Harry growled. Lockhart needed to pay for his transgressions. If Voldemort’s possession didn’t kill him, then he wouldn’t mind doing the deed.
"Draco will be taking the rest of the school year off," Charlus said. "He needs to see a Mind Healer at St Mungo's. The diary's prolonged influence may have caused significant damage."
Harry's eyebrows rose. "Well, good luck, I suppose. Has Sirius reinstated you into the Black family?"
Draco nodded, lifting his chin with a touch of his characteristic arrogance.
Harry leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you harm a hair on Rosie's head, I'm going to destroy you. And it will be a slow and painful process."
Draco took a step back.
"That's enough," Charlus said firmly, gripping Harry's shoulder. "I'm sure Draco gets the message.”
Harry made a face, unconvinced but willing to let it drop for now.
"We need to get going," Charlus continued, checking his pocket watch. “Can you finish the mansion this weekend? I would like to get the wards up and running as soon as possible, especially given recent events."
"I'll make time. Hermione's study schedule is driving me round the bend."
"I'm sure you're exaggerating."
Harry shuddered. "If only that were true."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
28th May
Harry stood on the gravel drive, surveying the newly completed Potter mansion. The massive stone structure dominated the landscape, its grey granite walls rising three storeys into the afternoon sky. Twin wings stretched east and west from the central block, creating a classic H-shaped floor plan that spoke of old money and tradition without being ostentatious.
The mansion's Georgian architecture featured symmetrical windows with stone mullions, elegant chimneys, and a slate roof that caught the sunlight. Thirty-four rooms spread across the building, including a grand ballroom, multiple reception rooms, a formal dining room, two libraries, and a potions laboratory in the basement. The entrance hall boasted a sweeping double staircase of polished stone, while the first-floor gallery displayed empty frames waiting for family portraits.
While his grandfather and Dobby had done most of the construction work over the past few months, Harry had designed every aspect of the building. More importantly, he'd integrated strengthening arrays throughout the structure, reducing the strain on the central wardstone and creating a nearly impregnable magical fortress.
His grandfather appeared beside him, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the mansion's facade.
"Is it finally finished?"
"The manor is complete," Harry said, feeling a warm sensation from the symbol on his hand as he spoke the words. "Only the grounds need work, but that's not the priority at the moment."
"The manor is the most important. With the additions you made to the wardstone, it's going to be difficult for anyone to breach the wards."
"Almost impossible," Harry agreed. "It would take two dozen wizards and a few weeks to even breach it. We can take additional security measures as well."
Charlus smiled. "For now, this is more than enough. I think I will hire some house-elves to work on the landscaping. This will be a fitting present to gift your grandmother for her next birthday."
Harry nodded. His grandmother's birthday was in October, so there was plenty of time. They would still live in their home in France for the time being, but it was nice to know that they had this place to come to if it was needed.
"I'm going to activate the wards," Charlus said, and stepped into the manor.
Harry retrieved the Source and took a look at the new message.
=========
The host has completed a task:
Task #18: Assist in rebuilding the mansion to its former glory.
Reward: 300,000 general experience.
Progress to level 19: 416000 / 500000
Level 17 Unlocks: ???? Earth Part: 3 of 4
=========
He had made steady progress over the last few months and was already close to reaching level twenty. Since the last reward he received for something that required multiple levels to earn was incredible, he was eager for the next one.
“It’s less experience than I was expecting,” Harry murmured, putting the Source away.
He'd expected as much—his direct contribution to the construction had been minimal compared to his grandfather's and Dobby's tireless work.
Still, satisfaction settled deep in his chest as he studied the mansion's imposing silhouette. This wasn't merely a reconstruction of what had been lost—it was something greater. Where the original manor had been stately but conventional in its protections, this version bristled with layered defences. Every stone had been laid with purpose, every beam and arch reinforced with magic that would make most curse breakers weep.
The wards hummed to life as his grandfather activated them, rippling across the grounds like invisible waves. Harry could feel them settling into place, interlocking with his arrays in perfect synchronisation.
Let them try, he thought grimly, remembering the stories of how Death Eaters had razed the original manor. Any force that attempted to breach these defences would find themselves facing something far beyond traditional wardcraft. The Potter estate would never fall again.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
1st June
Dobby apparated Charlus, Sirius, and Moody directly into the Malfoy dungeons. The damp stone walls seemed to close in around them, lit only by flickering torches that cast eerie shadows. The corridor had several wooden doors on either side, with a window and iron bars covering it.
The problem of Lucius Malfoy had been gnawing at them for over a week. The man had retreated to his mansion like a cornered fox to its den, leaving them frustratingly few options. The Malfoy estate's wards were strong—any attempt to dismantle them would not only alert every Auror in Britain but give Lucius ample time to destroy evidence and escape.
Only after Harry suggested they use Dobby did they have a viable strategy. House-elf apparition ignored most conventional wards—it was why the Ministry required specific anti-elf wards for their most secure locations. They were counting on Lucius to forget about this oversight.
Charlus felt like cursing himself for missing such an obvious solution. They'd been approaching the problem like Aurors, trying to breach from the outside, when they had an inside route all along. The plan began taking shape immediately. Dobby knew every corner of the mansion and every secret passage Lucius had used to hide his less legal activities. More importantly, the elf knew Lucius's habits—when he slept, where he took his meals, which rooms he frequented at what times.
"I didn’t expect it to be this easy to get inside," Sirius said, looking around.
Charlus nodded. “Despite Lucius’ caution, he still underestimates house-elves.”
"Right then," Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly. “Let’s find Lucius before he’s alerted to our presence."
Two sharp cracks split the air. A pair of house-elves materialised before them, their bat-like ears laid flat against their heads in aggressive poses.
Neither elf had time to act. Charlus and Moody moved in perfect synchronisation, their stunning spells striking true before the elves could raise their hands. They crumpled to the floor.
A series of low growls echoed through the corridor, followed by the sound of running feet on stone.
"You must be careful," Dobby whispered urgently. "Former master kept Matagots in the dungeons to guard prisoners. Their forefathers brought them from France after they were disgraced and expelled from the country."
Charlus turned to the elf, his expression thunderous. "You might have mentioned that particular detail earlier, Dobby.”
Four Matagots rounded the corner, their spectral blue forms illuminating the darkness. The beasts were massive, each the size of a large dog, with sleek, almost metallic-looking fur that seemed to absorb the torchlight.
"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered, raising his wand. "Any suggestions, Mad-Eye?"
"Don't die," Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly as it tracked all four creatures at once.
The first Matagot launched itself at Moody with frightening speed, its jaws wide enough to take off a man's head. Moody's wand flashed, unleashing a curse that struck the creature's shoulder. The beast howled but the damage was minimal. It split into two identical beasts, both bearing the same wound. Their forms rippled like heat waves, magic distorting the air around them.
"Don't use magic directly on them!" Charlus shouted, understanding dawning on his face. "They multiply!" His warning came just as Sirius raised his wand to cast a Blasting Curse.
Two more creatures darted forward, using the confined space to their advantage. One ran along the wall like a spider, defying gravity as it sought to outflank them. Its claws left glowing scratches in the stone. The other stayed low, weaving between their legs in an attempt to separate the group. Its movements were liquid smooth, like shadows given form.
"Back to back!" Charlus commanded, conjuring a ring of floating daggers around them. The blades spun in a defensive circle, forcing the Matagots to keep their distance.
A Matagot leapt through a gap in the blade barrier, seemingly unconcerned about self-preservation. Moody reacted instantly, transforming his wooden leg into a spike and driving it through the creature's chest. The creature collapsed to the ground, thrashing violently for a few seconds before going still.
Sirius found himself face-to-face with the wall-running Matagot. It sprang at him, twisting in mid-air with impossible grace. Its jaws snapped shut inches from his throat as he ducked. Instead of casting at the creature directly, Sirius transfigured part of the stone wall into a javelin, using it to impale the beast mid-leap. The Matagot went limp, hanging suspended from the javelin.
The confined space of the dungeon corridor worked against them. The Matagots used every surface available, bouncing between walls, floor, and ceiling in a deadly dance. Their movements became increasingly coordinated, as if guided by a single mind. Charlus transfigured debris into caltrops, scattering them across the floor in a glittering array of steel points. One Matagot landed badly, impaling itself on the spikes. It dissipated with a shriek of rage that made the torches flicker.
Two more beasts emerged from the shadows. Sirius narrowly avoided a swipe that would have opened his throat, retaliating by transforming his dragon-hide boots into throwing knives. The blades found their mark, but one Matagot managed to twist away with only a glancing wound—which promptly split it into two creatures.
"Keep conjuring weapons!" Sirius shouted, transforming his walking stick into a pike. "Don't let them get close!" He punctuated his warning by skewering a Matagot that had tried to pounce on Charlus from behind.
Four creatures attacked simultaneously, coordinating their assault with uncanny precision. Two went high while two went low, forcing the wizards to defend from all angles. Moody proved why he was considered Britain's most dangerous Auror, conjuring a complex web of razor wire that filled the corridor. The metallic strands wove themselves into a lethal matrix, each thread enchanted to seek flesh. Two Matagots couldn't change direction in time, becoming entangled and ultimately impaled on the sharp metal. Their death screams reverberated through the stone, making dust fall from the ceiling.
Charlus, meanwhile, demonstrated his own mastery. With precise wand movements, he animated the stone walls themselves, causing spikes to burst forth in waves. The remaining Matagots had to dance and weave between the deadly protrusions, losing their momentum and coordination. One beast's leg was caught by an emerging spike, pinning it long enough for Charlus to conjure a spear through its skull.
Three more creatures emerged from side passages, drawn by the commotion. Sirius seized the initiative, transfiguring his cloak into a storm of steel darts. The projectiles filled the air, leaving the beasts nowhere to dodge. Two more Matagots fell, pierced multiple times before they could split. The third managed to phase partially through the floor, but Moody's conjured chainspear caught it mid-escape, ripping it back into corporeal form before finishing it off.
The final beast, perhaps sensing its companions' defeat, turned to flee. Its spectral form began to fade, becoming translucent as it attempted to phase through the wall. Magic rippled around it like heat waves as it tried to shift between planes. Moody, however, was ready. His wand whipped forward, conjuring a spear of condensed magic that caught the creature mid-phase. The Matagot collapsed with a final, haunting cry that echoed through the dungeons.
"Everyone alright?" Charlus asked. His breath came in short bursts, but his wand remained steady.
"Next time," Sirius panted, wiping sweat from his brow, "we bring a bloody arsenal. And maybe some catnip," he added with a weak attempt at humour.
They continued along the corridor. In the final cell before the stairs, they found a young Veela woman curled in the corner. She wore only scraps of silk that left little to the imagination, and her wrists were bound with chains. Dark bruises mottled her pale skin, and her silvery hair was matted with blood and grime.
"Merlin's balls," Sirius breathed, his face twisting with fury.
The woman flinched at his voice, pressing herself further into the corner. Her eyes, when she raised them, held a vacant, glassy look that spoke of sustained trauma.
"Stand back," Charlus said. He blasted the lock apart and opened the door.
Charlus approached the prisoner, moving slowly with his hands visible. "We're here to help," he said softly. "My name is Charlus Potter. What’s your name?"
The Veela's only response was a slight trembling.
Charlus studied the chains with a frown. Several arrays were inscribed on their surface, which he didn’t recognise. "I don’t want to remove them until I know what we’re dealing with. They could cause her serious harm."
"Dobby," Charlus called. The elf stepped into the cell. "Take her to Lauren. Tell her to contact the Veela Council immediately—they might know how to deal with them."
"Of course, Master Potter, sir," Dobby squeaked. He grabbed her wrist and they disappeared with a crack.
"I'm going to kill him," Sirius snarled once they were gone.
"Get in line," Charlus replied grimly.
They ascended the stairs and entered the manor. After a quick search, they found Lucius in the manor's main parlour, lounging in a high-backed armchair with a glass of wine.
Moody's spell caught Lucius before he could reach his cane, sending it spinning through the air into the old Auror's waiting hand.
"Good evening, gentlemen," Lucius drawled. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Cut the act, Malfoy," Charlus said coldly. "We know about your connection to Obsidian. Start talking."
Lucius's practised sneer didn't waver. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're—"
The curse hit him before he could finish, causing him to double over in agony. Charlus held it for three seconds before releasing it.
"That was just a taste," Moody growled, his magical eye fixed unblinkingly on Lucius. "We're not playing games tonight."
Sirius shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps I should—"
"Go," Charlus nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Take Dobby with you. This won't be pleasant."
What followed was methodical and brutal. Moody's experience as an Auror had taught him exactly how much punishment a body could take, while Charlus's cold fury gave him the will to inflict it. They alternated between curses and questions, each refusal earning Lucius fresh waves of agony.
Blood ran from his nose and ears by the time he finally broke. "There's going to be an attack," he gasped, spitting out a tooth. "Something big. That's all I know, I swear. They don't trust me with the details."
"When?" Charlus demanded.
"Soon. Very soon. They've been gathering forces for months."
"Where?"
"I don't—" Lucius's protest ended in a scream as Moody's curse hit him.
"He's telling the truth about that part," Moody said after a moment, his magical eye studying Lucius intently. "If they are planning something big, I doubt it has spread beyond their inner circle."
Charlus stunned Lucius with a flick of his wand, watching dispassionately as the man slumped in his chair. "This isn't good. A major attack, but where? When?"
"We need more information," Moody agreed, conjuring ropes to bind their prisoner.
"I'll contact Madam Zabini," Charlus said. "She might have heard something from her informant. But first, we need to get this piece of filth somewhere secure for further questioning."
“Should we get Amelia involved?” Moody asked. “Or do we dispose of him after we have finished with him?”
Charlus thought about it for a moment. “Get someone to search the mansion for evidence of his crimes. We can hand him over discreetly to Amelia at a later date.”
Moody nodded. “What about the cursed diary? Should we question him about it?”
“Yes, but I doubt it will help much,” Charlus sighed. “I suspect Lockhart has it, and he may already be under its influence.”
“So, it’s a Horcrux?”
“It would appear so.”
Draco told him about Tom, describing their correspondence over several months. While his parents' marriage crumbled, Tom offered understanding and comfort through the diary's pages. The boy had been vulnerable, making him perfect prey for the Horcrux's influence. Still, Draco had shown remarkable strength in managing to dispose of the diary before it completely consumed him.
Charlus had brought Moody into their confidence because the old Auror's extensive experience could prove crucial in tracking down the remaining ones. Croaker's search had yielded little so far, though he was investigating a promising lead.
"Let's get out of here," Charlus said.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
7th June
Caterina Zabini rose from the bed, her naked form drenched in blood, clutching a silver dagger. Without bothering to clean herself, she slipped on a dressing gown, the expensive fabric immediately soaking up the blood.
Her husband's corpse sprawled across the Egyptian cotton sheets, his throat expertly slashed. He hadn't proved to be the challenger she'd hoped for. After merely a month of marriage, she was once again a widow. At this rate, she would surpass ten husbands before the twenty-first century.
He hadn't possessed the intelligence she'd sought about Obsidian. Though a prominent member hovering near the inner circle, his knowledge had proved disappointingly shallow. The only satisfaction came from eliminating another of the organisation's members.
A precise three-knock pattern at the door interrupted her thoughts. She padded over to the front door and opened it, recognising the signal. Her informant, Enrique, stepped inside, his expensive suit marking him as another wealthy patron. He wrinkled his nose at the metallic scent of blood and glanced towards the bedroom. To his credit, he didn’t ask the obvious question.
Enrique had been her most reliable source for two years. She kept him loyal with regular payments of galleons and the occasional night in her bed. He was wise enough not to be tempted into marrying her.
"What information do you have?" she asked, crossing to the minibar.
He checked the corridor before shutting the door. "This is the last time I provide you with information. They're closing in. I can feel it."
Caterina poured two measures of fire whiskey but pressed on. "Tell me what you've learned."
Enrique knocked back his drink and explained that the inner circle had planned an attack on Hogwarts for tomorrow evening. They'd only informed their subordinates today to prevent leaks. While rumours of a major operation had circulated, the inner circle's specific plans remained guarded.
Ice slid down Caterina's spine. Blaise was at Hogwarts. If she couldn't warn Charlus Potter soon, it would be too late.
Before she could demand details, her finely tuned instincts registered movement outside. She bolted for the balcony as the hotel room door exploded inward, showering the room with splinters. She yanked open the glass doors, snatched her Nimbus 2001 from its hiding place behind the potted plants, and launched herself over the railing. The cool night air rushed past as she plummeted a few storeys before pulling up sharply, disappearing into the evening darkness.
So, what do you think? In the next chapter, the big invasion commences, and all the players are drawn into the conflict.
Thanks for reading.
