HP: The Artisan's Path: Chapter 107

Hi all, 

Here’s the next chapter. Another chapter is coming in about twelve hours. 

Chapter 107

The Thunderbird's engines wound down with a low whistle as the aircraft settled into the courtyard of the Finnish castle. Harry had barely begun descending the ramp when he spotted several figures waiting for him, including Sheena. Beside her, the Guild Leader stood, wearing elaborate robes and bearing the artisan guild's symbol.

"Sheena," Harry said. "Thank you for arranging this so quickly."

Sheena slapped him on the back. "When you mirror-called, saying you needed medical assistance for a friend, I knew it had to be urgent.”

Harry nodded. “I don’t know how to help him.”

She gestured to the man beside her. "The Guild Leader insisted on being here when I told him what was happening."

Anton stepped forward. "Harry, good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances. Sheena mentioned this involves an injured friend of yours?"

"More than injured," Harry replied. "He's been cursed with some kind of dark artifact. I found him unconscious, pinned to a stone slab with a black sword through his shoulder. The blade won't budge, and it's draining his life force."

"A cursed blade? That's concerning. Fortunately, we have some of the guild's finest minds on hand." He turned towards a group that had emerged from the castle's main entrance. "May I introduce you to our medical team?"

Three figures approached. The first was a middle-aged witch with grey hair and gentle eyes, whilst the second appeared to be a younger wizard carrying a leather satchel of what were presumably medical supplies. But it was the third man who caught his attention.

The healer was tall and gaunt, with runic inscriptions etched across the left side of his face in deep blue-black ink. Harry's stomach lurched when he realised the man had no normal eyes—instead, two magical orbs sat in his sockets. The similarity to Moody's magical eye was unmistakable, though these were far more unnerving.

"This is Master Torvald Grimhaven," Anton said. "One of our most experienced artisans and medical practitioners. If anyone can determine the nature of your friend's affliction, it's him."

Grimhaven's artificial eyes stopped their rotation and locked onto Harry. 

"Mr Potter," Torvald said. "I have been hoping to meet you.. Where is the patient?"

Harry frowned. Grimhaven reminded him of Alastor Moody. But where Moody's paranoia had felt protective, almost fatherly in its familiar madness, Grimhaven radiated something altogether more dangerous. He couldn't shake the feeling that those magical eyes were seeing things they had no business seeing.

"He's still aboard the Thunderbird," Harry said. 

As they walked towards the aircraft, Harry fell into step beside Anton. "I should mention, there's someone else aboard who'll need accommodation for the night. Elizabeth is the leader of the Boston Artisan Guild.. She wanted me to introduce her to you."

"Of course," Anton replied. "I wondered where this flying machine had come from. But let’s see the patient first.”

They reached the Thunderbird's ramp. Elizabeth appeared at the top. "Harry? Is this the medical team?"

"It is.” Harry introduced them, then gestured to Anton. “Elizabeth, this is Anton Paasio, the Guild Leader of the European Headquarters.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Now’s not the time for pleasantries. We can talk later.”

The group ascended into the aircraft. Lewis remained exactly as Harry had left him, lying unconscious on the stone slab that they'd levitated from the Welsh valley. Lynx stretched and rose from her seat to greet them. 

Grimhaven's magical eyes fixated on her for a moment before focusing on Lewis. "The runic structure is unusual. But it’s to be expected. It has an Obscuring Array concealing the true formation." 

He straightened. "We need to get him to the infirmary immediately.”

"Can you help him?" Harry asked.

"I believe so, though it will require careful analysis. The good news is that his life signs appear stable for now. The sword is draining him slowly rather than causing immediate death."

“How do you know?”

Grimhaven tapped the side of his temple. “My eyes can see many things.”

Lynx wrinkled her nose. “Those eyes better not see beneath clothing, or I will rearrange your face.”

“Spiritied one, aren’t you?” Grimhaven grinned. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in seeing people’s naked bits.”

The medical team worked together to levitate the entire stone slab. Nagini shrank down and slithered into Harry’s sleeve.

Anton turned to Elizabeth as they prepared to leave the aircraft. "Elizabeth, was it? I'll have someone escort you to our guest quarters. We can talk more tomorrow about why you are here."

"Thank you."

Lynx remained close to Harry's side as they made their way across the courtyard towards the castle. "I don't trust that freaky eye man. He doesn’t feel normal."

“He gives me some strange vibes as well,” Harry replied. “That doesn’t automatically make him a bad person.”

Harry pulled out his two-way mirror as they walked. "Charlus Potter.”

After a moment, his grandfather's face appeared in the reflection. "Harry? Have you arrived at the castle yet?”

"Grandfather, I found Lewis."

"Found him? Where? How is he?"

"He's in a bad state. The guild healers are examining him now, but..." Harry hesitated. "We need to inform Violet Rosier. She deserves to know."

"I will get word to her. Harry, what exactly happened to Lewis?"

"I found him in Wales. Whoever did this to him left him for dead."

Charlus was quiet for a long moment. "I'll bring Violet to the castle."

"How soon can you get here?"

"It’s getting late. I will bring her tomorrow." Charlus paused. "Harry, be careful. If someone wanted Lewis dead badly enough, they might not be finished with their work."

The mirror went dark. Harry pocketed it as they entered the castle's main hall. The infirmary was located down the corridor and to the left. The room they entered was spacious and well-equipped, with several beds surrounded by various magical monitoring devices. Grimhaven had already begun his examination.

"The curse is definitely draining his life," he announced without looking up. "But it's designed for prolonged suffering rather than a quick death. Whoever cast this wanted the victim to linger."

"Can you stabilise him?" Harry asked.

"Already doing so. I'm reinforcing his natural magical defences to slow the drain on his life force. He’s not in immediate danger, but to remove the sword, we need to figure out exactly what the artifact is first.”

“Would one of my advanced appraisal scrolls work?” Harry asked. 

“Potentially,” Grimhaven replied. "But first, we need to remove the sword from the stone without hurting the patient."

"Come," Sheena said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You both look exhausted. Let me show you to your rooms. The healers will work through the night if necessary."

They left the infirmary and climbed a winding stone staircase to the upper levels of the castle. The corridors here were lined with doors bearing small brass nameplates, clearly the sleeping quarters for visiting knights and apprentices.

"This one's yours," Sheena said, stopping before a door marked with a nameplate reading 'H. Potter'. She moved to the next door. "And Lynx, this room should suit you.”

Lynx nodded. She appreciated getting her own room.

Harry opened his door to reveal a modest but comfortable chamber. A single bed sat against one wall, with a small desk and wardrobe completing the furnishings. Tall windows looked out over the courtyard, and a small fireplace promised warmth against the Finnish chill.

"Thank you," Harry said. "I know I sprung a surprise on you.”

Sheena smiled. “I’m sure you won’t be thanking me after I’ve finished with you.”

After Sheena left, Harry sat heavily on the bed. The events of the day had left him drained, both physically and emotionally. He'd found Lewis at last, but in circumstances he'd never imagined. Who had done this? And why?

It didn't escape Harry’s attention that Lewis's ordeal paralleled the Arthurian legend about the sword in the stone. The similarity was too obvious to ignore. Was there a deeper meaning behind the positioning, or had whoever attacked Lewis simply chosen this arrangement to mock him? 

Nagini slithered out of his sleeve and expanded to her normal size, taking up a significant portion of the bed.

"The bed is mine now, hatchling," she announced.

The castle's dinner bell rang somewhere below, echoing through the stone corridors. Harry realised he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast, and his stomach responded with an audible growl.

"Harry?" Lynx's voice called from the corridor. "Ready for dinner?”

The great hall was already bustling with activity when Harry and Lynx arrived. Long wooden tables filled the space, with dozens of knights and apprentices gathered for their evening meal. The conversations were animated but civilised, a far cry from the chaotic energy of Hogwarts' Great Hall.

They found seats at one of the long tables, joining a group of apprentices who greeted them with polite nods. The atmosphere was welcoming enough, though Harry noticed several curious glances directed his way. Word of his arrival had spread through the castle.

"You're the British Artisan, aren't you?" asked a young man seated across from Harry. He appeared to be around Harry's age, with blonde hair and the build of someone who spent considerable time training. "The one who brought the patient."

"That's right," Harry replied. "Harry Potter."

"Erik Lindgren," the teenager introduced himself. "I've heard stories about you. They say you fought in the goblin arena at Gringotts."

"How did you hear that story?"

"Sheena told us.”

Harry grimaced. “Sheena has a big mouth.”

"We heard you defeated a goblin warrior using nothing but a staff,” Erik continued. “Rather exaggerated, wouldn't you say?"

The conversations around them had grown quieter, and Harry realised he'd become the centre of attention. 

"The staff is just one part of my abilities," Harry said.

"Our training here focuses on proper swordwork. Real combat technique, not flashy arena tricks." 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Does it now?”

Erik gestured to the weapon hanging at his side. "Perhaps you'd be interested in a demonstration?"

"Erik," one of the older knights warned. "Guest courtesy."

"It's alright," Harry said, setting down his spoon. "What sort of demonstration did you have in mind?"

"A friendly sparring match. Your staff against my sword. Unless you're concerned about facing a real opponent?"

Harry considered the challenge. He was tired from the day's events, but something in Erik's tone rubbed him the wrong way. If he refused the sparring match, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

"Very well," Harry agreed. "After dinner?"

The great hall buzzed with excited whispers as word of the upcoming match spread. Harry finished his meal, ignoring the growing anticipation around him. Lynx remained silent beside him, more interested in her food than the sparring match.

Twenty minutes later, they gathered in the castle's training courtyard. Most of the dinner crowd had followed to watch. Erik had changed into practice gear and carried a wooden longsword, its weight and balance clearly familiar to him.

Harry unstrapped his staff and extended it to full length. 

"Standard rules," announced one of the senior knights. "First to yield or be disarmed wins."

Erik moved into a classical sword stance. "Ready when you are, Potter."

Harry settled into his fighting position, staff held diagonally across his body. "Ready."

The match began with Erik's aggressive advance. He moved with impressive speed, his longsword cutting through the air in controlled arcs. Harry found himself immediately on the defensive, his staff spinning to intercept strikes that came faster than he'd anticipated.

Erik's footwork was exceptional. He flowed between attacks with the grace of someone who'd been training since childhood, each movement economical and precise. Harry parried a thrust aimed at his chest, then barely avoided a follow-up slash that would have caught him across the ribs.

"Surprised?" Erik asked, pressing his advantage with a series of overhead strikes.

Harry was indeed surprised. Erik's skill level exceeded his assumptions. He fought with the confidence of someone accustomed to winning, and Harry found himself being steadily pushed back across the courtyard.

A particularly clever combination nearly cost Harry his grip on his staff. Erik feinted high, then swept low, forcing Harry into an awkward block that left him momentarily off-balance. Only a quick backstep prevented the wooden sword from connecting with his knee.

Time to stop playing around, Harry decided.

He dialled his Velocier skill up to three, feeling the familiar rush as his perception and reflexes sharpened. Suddenly, Erik's impressive speed seemed manageable. Harry's staff moved with renewed purpose, no longer merely defensive but beginning to create openings of its own.

Erik's confident expression flickered as Harry's counterattack began. A rapid series of strikes forced the teenager to give ground, his longsword working frantically to keep pace with Harry's enhanced speed. Harry varied his approach, striking high and low, using the staff's length to keep Erik at the edge of his own weapon's reach.

The match's momentum shifted decisively. Erik attempted a desperate lunge, but Harry sidestepped easily and brought his staff around in a controlled arc that stopped just short of Erik's throat.

"Yield," Harry said.

Erik stepped back, breathing heavily. "Yield." He lowered his sword, his expression a mixture of respect and frustration. "Well fought."

As the watching crowd began to disperse, offering congratulations and comments on the match, Harry noticed movement in the shadows near the courtyard's entrance. Grimhaven stepped into the torchlight, his magical eyes fixed on Harry.

The man approached slowly, his gaze never leaving Harry's face. "Impressive display, Mr Potter. Your speed enhancement is remarkable."

"I had a good teacher," Harry replied, collapsing his staff.

"Indeed," Grimhaven smiled, but it didn't reach his strange eyes. "Most illuminating."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Lewis ran desperately between the trees. Branches whipped at the man's face, leaving thin cuts across his cheeks, but he didn't slow down. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and his clothes were torn from his flight through the undergrowth.

Lewis stumbled, caught himself against a tree trunk, and looked directly at Harry. His lips moved urgently, forming words that Harry couldn't hear. The desperate expression on Lewis' face suggested he was trying to communicate something vital.

Harry tried to move closer, but found himself locked in place, able only to watch as Lewis pushed himself away from the tree and resumed his frantic escape. The man glanced over his shoulder repeatedly, his terror growing more pronounced with each backwards look.

That's when Harry noticed the shadow.

It stretched across the forest floor, long and distorted, clearly belonging to someone pursuing Lewis. But Harry couldn't see the figure casting it—whoever it was remained just out of sight. 

Lewis burst through a final line of trees and stumbled into the clearing Harry recognised. The crude stone hut sat exactly as they'd found it, and the stone slab waited in the centre of the space. Instead of continuing to run, Lewis stopped abruptly.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. Without looking back at his pursuer, Lewis walked slowly to the stone slab and lay down upon it. He positioned himself exactly as Harry had found him, arms at his sides, resignation written across his features.

Harry's perspective shifted suddenly, bringing him directly overhead. He could see Lewis' face clearly now, could read the terror and despair etched into his expression. Sweat beaded on Lewis' forehead as his lips continued their urgent movement.

Finally, Harry could make out the words.

"The Great Enemy is Coming," Lewis whispered over and over again. "The Great Enemy is Coming."

A shadow fell across Lewis' prone form, dark and absolute. Harry turned to see the figure that had been pursuing his friend.

The creature stood at the edge of the clearing, its skinless form a nightmare of exposed muscle and sinew. Harry's blood turned to ice as he recognised the being that had killed Dumbledore during the battle at Hogwarts. 

The creature turned its head slowly, fixing its gaze directly on Harry. For a moment that felt like an eternity, its eyes seemed to see straight through him. Then it raised its sword and drove it down through Lewis' shoulder.

Harry jerked awake with a strangled cry, his body drenched in sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs as he struggled to separate dream from reality. The stone walls of the Finnish castle gradually came into focus, but the image of that terrible creature remained burned into his vision.

As his breathing slowly returned to normal, Harry's mind began to process what he'd witnessed. The sword in his nightmare—it was the same weapon that had killed Dumbledore. Was his subconscious trying to remind him of that fact? Had the same creature that murdered the former headmaster also attacked Lewis?

But why would it target Lewis? Did that mean this figure, who had possessed his old cloak and stolen Dumbledore's wand, was the Great Enemy that the prophecy was referring to?

Harry tried to piece together everything he could remember about that night at Hogwarts, but the details remained frustratingly hazy. The effects of Dumbledore's Cruciatus Curse had clouded his mind with pain, making it difficult to recall specifics. Yet he distinctly remembered that skinless creature mentioning that it had lost its memories. The way it had spoken about this world being "alien" to it, how instincts had brought it to the battle rather than conscious thought.

Did its recent actions against Lewis mean that it had regained those lost memories? If this creature had targeted Lewis deliberately, there had to be a reason. What could possibly connect him to such a nightmarish being?

Harry ran his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of the fragments. The nightmare felt far too real to be just his mind processing memories like a normal dream. The way Lewis had looked directly at him, the desperate urgency in his voice, the precise positioning on the stone slab—it all felt more like a vision than a product of his sleeping mind.

Harry glanced towards the window, where the first hints of dawn were beginning to lighten the sky. Sleep would be impossible now, not with these thoughts churning through his mind. He needed to check on Lewis, to see if there had been any change in his condition. 

The door slammed open without warning, and Sheena strode inside, fully dressed in her armour. 

"Get up, recruit!" Sheena commanded. "It's time for your morning run."

Harry groaned and pulled his pillow over his head. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking? Some people value their privacy."

"There's no privacy for recruits," Sheena said. "Only pain and discipline. The sooner you learn that, the easier your training will be."

Harry sat up reluctantly. "When am I going to get the schematics for the armour you promised? I'd like to examine the enchantment work."

Sheena's eyes narrowed. "You haven't been here a full day, and you're already making demands? That's not how things work around here, Potter."

Nagini raised her massive head from where it had been resting on the floor beside the bed. 

"Get out of my sight before I sink my fangs into you," she hissed. "I need my sleep, and your screeching is giving me a headache."

"What did she say?" Sheena asked.

"Nagini says hello."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Harry stumbled into the showers after training had finished for the morning. Every part of his body felt sore, muscles he'd forgotten he possessed aching with a deep, persistent throb. Although he was used to this sort of punishment thanks to Master Footshredder's relentless training regimen, it felt like Sheena was taking it to an entirely new level. 

As she had cheerfully tortured him with increasingly brutal exercises, she had explained that he would be taking the advanced course, since the basic one was too easy for someone with his experience. He hadn't had a moment to check on Lewis.

The hot water provided some relief to his protesting muscles, though it did little to ease his exhaustion. He exited the shower and got dressed. When he left the bathroom, someone was waiting for him in the corridor. 

Jorge stood leaning against the wall. The young man had the sturdy build and sun-darkened skin of someone who'd spent years working the land. During the morning's training, Harry had found Jorge's steady, uncomplicated nature a welcome contrast to Erik's competitive intensity.

"You need to get down to the courtyard," Jorge said, his slight Spanish accent colouring his words. "Erik is bullying your sister."

"Really?” Harry smirked. “There's no rush."

"Aren't you concerned about her?"

"No. I'm more concerned about whether she leaves Erik in one piece."

"How can a little girl do anything to Erik? The guy is twice her size."

"Trust me," Harry said. "Don't underestimate the girl. What's Erik's beef, anyway?"

"Beef?" 

"What's his problem with me?"

"Oh, he's jealous."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Because I defeated him in a sparring match?"

"No, no. It's because he heard you are dating four beautiful señoritas."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Sheena told us," Jorge explained with obvious relish. "In great detail."

"That woman is a little too free with my private life," Harry muttered.

Jorge chuckled. "Sheena was using it as motivation to get us through the training. Said we could have beautiful girlfriends as well, if only we persevered and became proper knights. Took me a while to figure out she was lying to us."

"What a monster."

They reached the courtyard to find exactly what Harry had predicted. Lynx stood over Erik, who was crying on the ground while clutching his wrist against his chest. His face was red with pain and humiliation. Many observers were gathered around the edges of the courtyard, and several were snickering at the boy's misery.

"Dios mío!" Jorge breathed. "That's just too embarrassing."

Lynx bounced over to Harry. "Beating up little boys is a lot more fun than I imagined."

"Little boys?" Jorge repeated.

"You've made your point," Harry told Lynx, though he couldn't entirely suppress his amusement. "No more beating up your inferiors. Let's go to lunch."

Sheena arrived at that moment. "Harry, your grandfather is here, with Violet Rosier. He wants to see you immediately. They're meeting the Guild Leader in Lewis' room."

"I'll head there now," Harry said. "Is Lewis alright?"

"No change, I'm afraid."

"I'll prepare a plate for you," Jorge offered. 

"Thanks."

"Me too," Lynx chimed in. "I'm going with Harry. Give me lots of meat."

Jorge shuddered. "Sí, I'm well aware of your eating habits."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Harry and Lynx entered Lewis' room with Sheena. His grandfather, Violet, Anton, and Grimhaven were standing around Lewis's bed in a tight circle. Nothing had changed since Harry's last visit. Lewis remained unconscious, still pinned to the slab of stone with the black sword through his shoulder.

"Grandfather," Harry said. "You took your sweet time getting here."

"Hello to you, too," Charlus replied. "Are you having fun with your training?"

"How could that be possible? Sheena is a sadist."

"I have my moments," Sheena agreed cheerfully.

"Is this how you found him, Harry?" Violet interjected. 

"Yes. Lewis led me there with a series of clues, but it seems someone else was one step ahead of me."

Charlus studied Harry's face. "Are you alright, Harry? You look a little under the weather."

"I didn't push him that hard," Sheena protested.

"I had a bad dream," Harry admitted. "Grandfather, do you recognise that sword?"

Charlus examined the blade. "No. Should I?"

"It's the same sword that was used to kill Dumbledore."

The room fell silent, as everyone processed the shocking information. 

Charlus frowned. "Are you sure?”

Harry nodded. 

“I should have realised sooner. So that skinless creature is involved in this. Was that what the dream was about?"

"That's right."

Anton looked between them with obvious confusion. "Who are you talking about?"

Charlus went on to briefly explain the creature they'd encountered at the Battle of Hogwarts—a skinless being who knew about the Deathly Hallows and had worn Harry's missing Invisibility Cloak. How it had killed Dumbledore and stolen his wand before disappearing into the night.

"Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while," Anton said when Charlus finished. "The Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand. I would love to get my hands on these artifacts to study them."

"You're out of luck with the stone," Charlus replied. "I destroyed it."

"Disappointing, but I don't blame you. The name is quite the trap, isn't it? If it could bring people back from the dead, it would have far more people looking for it." Anton paused thoughtfully. "I'm curious about this creature's actions. You said it took the wand from Dumbledore? What reason would it have for doing so? Could it be that Dumbledore had possession of the Elder Wand?"

Charlus exchanged a glance with Harry. "We've considered it. Whatever the case, it's beyond our reach now."

"Don't be so sure," Harry said. "If the creature that killed Dumbledore also attacked Lewis, we may see it again in the future."

Grimhaven spoke for the first time since they'd entered. "I've had many Master Artisans examine this blade, but no one can crack the Obscuring Array. Do you think it's related to the Deathly Hallows?"

"A fourth Hallow?" Anton mused. "It's possible, if it's been concealed all this time. But that means this sword is much more than it seems. Until we figure out what it is, we're helpless to treat Lewis properly."

"Did you try to pull the sword from the slab?" Harry asked.

"I did," Grimhaven replied, rubbing his shoulder. "And I got blasted across the room for my troubles. It clearly doesn't want us to remove it."

"Strange," Harry said. "Nothing happened when Lynx and I tried to remove it."

"That may be a clue to the sword,” Lynx said. “What's different about us compared to this guy with the freaky eyes?"

Grimhaven's magical eyes focused on her. "Yes, I would very much like to know that. My eyes detect some strange magical readings coming from you. Just who are you?"

Lynx grinned, revealing her sharp teeth, but didn't offer any explanation.

"So there's nothing you can do for him?" Violet asked.

Harry suddenly felt the familiar warmth from the symbol on his hand. "Excuse me for a moment.”

He exited the room and pulled up his sleeve, revealing his gauntlet. The small interface was showing a new message notification. Harry activated the screen and read the task that had appeared.

==========  

The host has received a new task!

Sword of Shadows 

Description: The blade piercing Lewis has been identified as an artifact of immense power, potentially connected to the Deathly Hallows themselves. The weapon appears to respond differently to different individuals, suggesting a selection mechanism based on unknown criteria. Find a method to neutralise the sword's life-draining effects and safely remove it from the victim before it’s too late. 

Time Limit: 7 days 

Reward: 500,000 General Experience.

==========

Harry stared at the message, his stomach churning. Seven days to save Lewis's life, and he had no idea where to start.

He returned inside, where the group was quietly talking amongst themselves. 

Charlus turned as he entered. "Harry, there's another reason why I came here with Violet. It relates to Andrei Dumitrescu."

"Have you found him?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly," Anton interjected. "I've been investigating Andrei ever since he was kicked out of the guild. My investigation led me to Russia, where I believe he's joined the Russian Magical Federation with two other members."

Charlus nodded. "We believe they are One, Two, and Three—the Obsidian members who didn't appear at the Battle of Hogwarts."

Harry felt his stomach drop. "The Russian Magical Federation? Are those bastards teaming up with Baba Yaga? It can't be a coincidence."

"We believe so," Charlus confirmed. "After it was discovered that the Russian magical government was compromised, I've been looking for someone who can infiltrate their ranks and feed me information."

"Have you found someone?"

"Take a guess. She has a deep hatred of Obsidian and has already killed many of its members."

Harry groaned. "Madam Zabini? Blaise isn't going to be pleased about this."

"Turns out she can speak Russian with a convincing accent," Charlus explained. "She's agreed to spy for us and feed us information about what's happening inside their organisation."

"A spy," Harry mused. "Just like Black Widow. Wow, talk about irony."

Everyone looked confused, so Harry explained. "Black Widow is a character from Marvel Comics who uses her beauty and skills to spy for the Americans. She's also Russian. Madam Zabini is a Black Widow who has killed several husbands. It all fits."

Charlus shook his head. "I think you read too many comic books."

"Are you going to test Baba Yaga's weakness if you get the chance?" Harry asked, thinking about the potential iron vulnerability they'd discovered.

"Maybe," Charlus replied. "We need to deal with Obsidian first. I don't feel safe with them teaming up with Baba Yaga. Both parties already have a grudge against us, and together they're exponentially more dangerous."

"I can take care of that crone,” Lynx said. “Harry, get me some more worshippers so I have more magic at my disposal."

Harry turned to Anton with a perfectly straight face. "Say, Guild Leader, you don't happen to have any magical creatures in Finland that are feeling lonely and wish to join a cult?"

"It's not a cult," Lynx protested.

Anton looked between them with obvious bewilderment. "I have no idea what you're going on about."

Suddenly, Harry heard Slyther's familiar voice hiss in his mind. "Use the snake."

Harry frowned and silently asked, "What do you mean?"

"Nagini. See if she can detect anything about Lewis's condition."

"Do you think that would work? What could she discover that the best minds in the Artisan Guild cannot?"

"Worth a try,”

As if summoned by their mental conversation, Nagini appeared at that moment. She used her massive bulk to push the door open and slithered inside.

"Nagini, good timing," Harry hissed. "Can you see if you can detect any strange scents on Lewis? I should have thought of it sooner."

"I couldn't detect anything on the aircraft, but I wasn't really trying," Nagini replied.

Harry then spoke to the room. "Nagini will try to detect something unusual about Lewis's condition."

"What's this nonsense?" Grimhaven asked.

"Nagini has a special ability to detect magical ailments and traits in humans that she's encountered before," Harry explained. "It's a long shot, but worth a try."

Grimhaven focused on Nagini. "Interesting. Well, go ahead, but I would avoid touching him unless you want to be sent flying across the room."

Nagini slithered over to Lewis's bed. Her forked tongue flickered out, scenting the air around the unconscious young man. Everyone waited with bated breath as she conducted her examination.

Suddenly, Nagini recoiled, her head jerking back as if she'd encountered something foul.

"Nagini, what's the matter?" Harry asked.

"He smells of death," she hissed.

"Are you saying Lewis is dead?" 

"No, he smells of death. There’s a difference. I have encountered this scent before."

"Where?"

"In the Ministry. The Death Chamber."

Harry froze, his blood turning to ice. "Are you talking about the Veil? When did you visit the Department of Mysteries?"

But Nagini didn't answer. Instead, she slithered out of the room, leaving everyone staring after her in confusion.

The revelation caused a cascade of questions to flood Harry's mind. He recalled his visit to the Death Chamber for Pettigrew's punishment. He remembered the feeling of uneasiness as he got close to the Veil. How was it connected to the sword piercing Lewis? And what did it mean?

"Harry, we don't speak Parseltongue," Charlus reminded him. "What did Nagini say?"

"She said that Lewis smelled of death," Harry replied. "But I don't think she was referring to the rotting corpse kind."

Grimhaven snorted. "That gives us nothing to go on."

But Harry was struck by a sudden, terrible thought. He grabbed Lynx's hand and pulled her toward the door. "Lynx, I think I'm ready to use another one of my questions."

"Sure," she said, allowing herself to be led from the room. "What is it?"

"The gate you were referring to earlier—was it the Veil? Inside the Department of Mysteries?"

Lynx tilted her head. "If you already knew, then why are you asking?"

"I didn't know," Harry said. "It was only a theory. Now, explain to me—does anyone who is pushed through the Veil end up in the Fae Realm?"

"Sure," Lynx replied. "So long as they don't encounter the Rift Guardian in the dimension in between."

Harry's thoughts raced furiously as the implications hit him like a physical blow. Did that mean every criminal that was sent through the Veil as an execution might have survived? Did that mean Peter Pettigrew, the man who had betrayed his parents, was alive somewhere in the Fae Realm?

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry searches for a way to help Lewis and continues his Knight training.

Thanks for reading.