The Mage's Path: Chapter 28

Hi all, 

Here’s the final chapter for the week. Halloween arrives, and Harry and Celeste head for the cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Chapter 28

Harry and Celeste wandered through the mirrored chamber. He tried to ignore the many reflections of his face staring back at him.

"There must be an exit somewhere," Harry said.

They combed the perimeter carefully, checking for irregularities or hidden mechanisms. After twenty minutes of searching, Harry started to become frustrated. Was the gate even in this chamber? It was the only one they hadn’t fully explored.  

"Harry, over here!" Celeste called. 

She hovered near what appeared to be an ordinary section of reflective surface, but as Harry approached, he noticed a shimmer that hadn't been visible from across the room.

His fingers brushed against it, and the solid surface dissolved, revealing a stone archway. It led to a short, unadorned passage opening into a circular chamber. The dungeon gate stood in the centre, next to a treasure chest.

Harry opened the chest to find a single item inside—a familiar crystal shard. He used Appraisal.

======Manor Fragment: Cellar | Level: -- | Epic | Effect: Manor Room 

Description: This manor fragment is for the cellar. When combined with other fragments, it will form part of your manor, providing an extensive area for storing provisions. =======

“I’m starting to see a theme here,” Celeste said. “All the dungeons are related to different parts of your manor in some way.” 

“You're only noticing that  now?” Harry asked. "Let’s get out of here."

They stepped through the gate and they appeared outside the house. A moment later, the gate closed behind them. He activated Gate Walker, selected 'Hogwarts’ from the menu, and they appeared on Harry’s bed in his dormitory room. 

His dorm mates had already left for breakfast.

"Perfect timing," Harry said, checking his watch. "We've been gone for a day."

He rummaged through his dresser for fresh clothes. After changing quickly, he settled on his bed and pulled out the talisman from his inventory. It was one of the items Goliath had dropped. 

"Appraisal."

====== Gate Walker's Talisman | Level: -- | Epic | Type: Accessory | Enchantment Slots: -

Description: Created by those seeking passage between realms, this talisman allows limited perception of dimensional boundaries. The wearer can occasionally glimpse moments where reality grows thin, potentially revealing hidden gates.

*Increases detection range for dungeon gates by 50%

*Reduces the MP cost of Gate Walker by 50%

*Note: Only two accessories can be equipped simultaneously. =======

“What a useful find,” Harry said, tucking the talisman beneath his shirt. 

“Do you think Frankenstein left it behind?” Celeste asked.

“No, it’s just another thing created by the System,” Harry said. “But Frankenstein’s monster abilities are real.”

‘Can we call it something else? It’s starting to get old.”

“Let’s call him Adam.”

“Is that the best you can do?”

“Do you have a better one? Besides, he was called Adam in the novel.”

“Sure.” 

They arrived at the Great Hall to find Ron stuffing his face while Hermione read the newspaper. Both looked up as Harry approached.

"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded. "You’ve been missing all day.”

"Yeah, mate," Ron added through a mouthful of eggs. "We thought something happened to you."

Harry slid onto the bench, piling food onto his plate while considering his response. "I was exploring the castle and found this weird room. The door vanished after I went inside, and I couldn't get out until this morning."

"A secret room?" Hermione's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Which corridor?"

"On the third floor," Harry lied. “I tried finding the door again, but it had completely vanished.”  

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Wicked! What was inside?"

"Just some old chamber pots. Being stuck in the room an entire day was unfortunate, but at least I had somewhere to relieve myself."

Hermione made a face. "If you don't want to tell us where you really were, just say so."

“Okay.” Harry paused. “I was actually outside the castle, exploring the mountains. I ended up wrestling a troll.”

Ron snorted into his food. 

Hermione frowned. “I’m done talking with you.”   

Ron didn’t look like he believed Harry anymore than Hermione did, but he didn’t pester him with questions.

"Are you doing anything after breakfast?” Ron asked. 

“Not particularly,” Harry replied. 

“Could you help me with flying practice? I want to try out for the Quidditch team next year, but I need to get better.”

Harry considered Ron's request, recalling their earlier conversation about proving himself to his mother. A notification appeared in his HUD:

======New Side Quest: The Red Knight (1/5) 

Description: Ronald Weasley struggles with self-worth issues stemming from being overshadowed by his accomplished brothers and his mother's apparent favouritism toward his sister. Assist him in improving his flying skills to help him begin shaping his own identity.

Objective: Help Ron improve his flying skills until Oliver Wood takes notice. 

Next Objective: To be revealed upon completion of the current objective. 

Current Objective Reward: 2000 XP; 1 PP 

Time Limit: End of school year  

Difficulty: Moderate ======

The quest differed significantly from others he'd encountered. Rather than existing as isolated tasks, the objectives formed a connected chain, with each completion revealing the next part. Harry wasn't about to complain—the rewards were generous. 

Harry wondered what Red Knight was referring to. Ron’s distinctive red hair? His chess skills? He suspected he would only find out by completing all of the objectives.   

"I don’t know how much use I will be," Harry said, dismissing the notification with a thought. "I know even less than you about the sport."

“That’s okay. I only need you to help me improve my flying skills.”

“Then I would be happy to help.”

Ron brightened immediately. "Thanks, mate!”

Hermione watched their exchange with a smile. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Harry. I will come watch while I work on my Transfiguration essay."

“Can you not watch?” Ron asked. “I get nervous when someone is watching me.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “How will you cope if you make the Quidditch team and have to play in front of the school?”

Ron waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s worry about that if the time comes. And that’s a massive ‘if’.”

Hermione turned to Harry. “You have your work cut out for you.”

Harry nodded. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Oi!”

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

Harry watched Ron streak across the sky, broom vibrating beneath him as he chased after Celeste. The fairy darted and spun through the air, her tiny form nearly invisible against the clouds.

"Is that all you've got, Weasley?" Celeste's taunting voice carried across the pitch. "My grandmother flies faster, and she's been dead for centuries!"

Ron's face flushed to match his hair. He leaned forward, urging the ancient school broom to accelerate. The bristles shuddered alarmingly, but the broom responded with a burst of speed.

"These bloody brooms are rubbish," Ron shouted back, banking sharply as Celeste changed direction. "It keeps pulling to the left!"

The school brooms remained the biggest obstacle. Enchantments layered decades ago had begun to fade, causing unpredictable behavior—sudden drops in altitude, random acceleration, and in one particularly alarming instance, complete refusal to respond to steering. Perhaps he could suggest better equipment to McGonagall. He suspected that it wouldn’t do anything, otherwise, they would have been replaced a long time ago.  

The other choice was to buy a broomstick. With all the money he’d made from the dungeons, he had enough to spend on some luxuries without dipping into his trust vault. He could lend it to Ron, and experiment with it in the dungeons, to see if it could be used for navigation.

"Stop flying like you've got a Flobberworm up your arse!" Celeste yelled, doing a mocking loop-de-loop over Ron's head.

Ron growled and executed a surprisingly smooth feint, nearly catching the fairy before she spiralled away laughing.

Celeste had proven an unexpectedly brilliant training partner. Her natural agility combined with a talent for creative insults drove Ron to push himself harder. Harry couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried.

Despite the broom's limitations, Ron had improved dramatically over the past week. Although he still had a long way to go, his progress over such a short time was promising.  

As for Harry, he had been busy over the past week.  

Harry had excelled in classes, his newly unlocked Transfiguration Primer elevating him above Hermione to first in his school year. McGonagall had taken to using his work as an example, causing Hermione to become even more competitive. 

Similar success followed in Charms and Defence, though Quirrell's stuttering instruction hardly qualified as teaching. The professor continued to sabotage them with his incompetence, assigning reading rather than practical lessons. Harry compensated by practising spells in his free time.

Every evening, Harry and Celeste continued to grind experience in the dungeons. Because Harry was already level eighteen, Celeste received all the experience points, giving her the opportunity to close the gap between them. 

Harry continued his blacksmithing practice inside the Forbidden Cellar dungeon. He wanted to make himself a set of armour eventually. He had been trading wine with Sommelier Sam for more ingots. Although the treasure chests didn’t respawn, the bottles out in the open did. The funny thing was that Sam and his wife still remembered him. Their memories of the quest hadn’t faded.

He was experimenting with his Aqua Sphere skill by changing it into other forms. Even with his Mana Manipulation skill, he found the process challenging. He started with increasing the size of the sphere first, but it cost him more mana. It increased the damage, but wasn’t proportional to the cost. 

Between these activities, Harry pored over Corpse's books, extracting clues about the monster's movements. References to "northern solitude" and "the abandoned castle where lightning births life" pointed to a location conveniently near one of England's remaining dungeons. The connection seemed too deliberate to be coincidence.

Though the Godric's Hollow quest beckoned, Harry exercised restraint. A strange certainty had settled in his mind—Halloween would be the right time to visit his parents' cottage. The anniversary carried significance beyond mere sentiment, and his instincts rarely steered him wrong. His mother's secrets had waited a decade; they could wait a few more weeks until that fateful date.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a noise behind him.

He turned to find Professor Trelawney standing behind him. She stepped forward until she was standing uncomfortably close.

"Mr Potter," she breathed, the distinct smell of sherry wafting between them. "I've been waiting patiently for you to grace my tower."

Harry stepped backward. "Professor, I don't take Divination."

"The Inner Eye cares not for class schedules." She moved closer, bangles jingling with each step. "I've seen you in the Beyond, surrounded by shadows and light."

"That's... interesting." Harry edged away again. "But I've got no business with your class."

Trelawney's hand shot out, bony fingers clutching his wrist. "You misunderstand, dear boy. I've important information regarding a prophecy. A prophecy about you."

"What prophecy?"

"Not here." Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. "The stars forbid careless tongues. Visit my tower tonight, and all shall be revealed."

"I'm rather busy with homework—"

"The prophecy, dear boy!" Her grip tightened. "It speaks of your destiny, of darkness and light intertwined! Surely homework pales beside such revelations?"

"Look, Professor, I appreciate the offer, but—"

"The signs have been clear for weeks," she insisted, swaying slightly. "I've seen your fate in tea leaves, in crystal, in the movement of planets! You cannot ignore destiny's call!"

Harry extracted his arm from her grasp. "If it's that important, tell Dumbledore."

Her face contorted. "Dumbledore! That man sees only what he wants to see."

"Professor, I'll have to report this conversation to the headmaster if you continue—"

"Report?" Trelawney's voice rose. "That pompous, long-bearded charlatan treats divination as parlour tricks while genuine Seers gifts are squandered!"

"What's going on?" Hermione's voice cut through Trelawney's tirade as she approached, books clutched to her chest.

Trelawney's head snapped toward her. 

"Professor Trelawney was just leaving," Harry said firmly.

The Divination professor drew herself up. "Indeed I was. But remember, Mr Potter, when the shadows take form, you'll wish you'd heeded my warnings."

She swept away in a cloud of bangles and perfume.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, watching Trelawney's retreating form.

Harry shrugged. "No idea. Something about prophecies and Dumbledore being a charlatan."

"She's obviously... unwell." Hermione's diplomatic pause spoke volumes.

“Don’t forget dangerous,” Harry said, rubbing his wrist. “What was Dumbledore smoking when he hired her?”

“Harry!” Hermione laughed. “This is a serious matter. You should speak with the headmaster.”

Harry snorted. “I prefer Professor McGonagall.” 

A cheer interrupted them, and they looked up to see Ron.

"Did you see that? I finally caught the little menace!" Ron shouted.

Celeste, trapped in Ron's cupped hands, shouted muffled obscenities that fortunately couldn't be heard from the ground.

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

Harry stood before his dormitory window. The Halloween Feast would begin soon, but he wouldn’t be there.

"Ready?" Celeste asked, perched on his shoulder.

Harry nodded. Once his dormmates had disappeared downstairs, he closed the curtains around his bed.

"Gate Walker."

The familiar menu materialised, showing his available destinations. He selected the dungeon gate nearest Godric's Hollow—a small abandoned church on the village outskirts he'd discovered during their systematic exploration of England. It was strange how another dungeon was conveniently located to something related to him.

A momentary disorientation, then cold evening air replaced the dormitory's warmth. They stood on overgrown church grounds, ancient headstones tilting at odd angles among knee-high grass. Distant laughter echoed from the village below as children in costume darted between houses.

"This way." Harry pointed toward clustered lights in the valley.

They followed a dirt path that eventually became a cobbled lane. Godric's Hollow looked like a postcard of rural England—thatched cottages with smoke curling from chimneys, and a small village square with a war memorial.

A group of children dressed as witches and vampires passed them, clutching paper bags bulging with sweets. 

"The memorial should be in the square," Harry said.

The war memorial stood at the centre, surrounded by wooden benches. As Harry approached, the stone soldier shimmered and transformed into a different statue—a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair holding an infant.

His family, frozen in stone.

His throat tightened as he circled the statue. The artist had captured his father's easy confidence, his mother's gentle smile, and a baby—himself—peaceful and unaware of the fate awaiting them.

"They got your nose wrong," Celeste observed, attempting to lighten the mood.

Harry turned away from the statue. "The cottage should be down Church Lane." 

They followed signs until reaching the end of a hedgerow where a ruined cottage stood. The right side had collapsed entirely, exposing what remained of the interior to the elements. A wooden sign had sprouted from the ground:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

Visitors had scratched messages into the wood over the years. Good luck, Harry, wherever you are. Long live Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

"People are weird," Celeste murmured.

Harry approached the garden gate and opened it. He stepped onto the property, feeling the preservation spells wash over him. These enchantments had maintained the cottage exactly as it had been that night, protecting it from weather and decay while keeping Muggles oblivious to its existence.

The front door hung askew on damaged hinges. Harry pushed it open, stepping into the cottage where his life had irrevocably changed.

The sitting room appeared frozen in time—a jumper draped across a chair, a child's toy forgotten on the rug. Evidence of lives interrupted mid-moment.

His father had died downstairs. Harry scanned the room, half-expecting to see his father’s ghost, but found nothing. Perhaps James Potter had left no lasting magical imprint, or perhaps his death had been too swift to create one.

As Harry turned toward the stairs, a subtle vibration rippled through his Mana Sense—a faint magical signature emanating from deeper within the ground floor. He paused, his head tilting slightly as he concentrated on the source.

"Wait," Harry murmured. "There's something here."

"What is it?" Celeste asked.

“I don’t know." 

He followed the sensation like a thread, moving away from the stairs and through a narrow doorway into the kitchen.

The space was modest—a small wooden table with four chairs, worn countertops, and cabinets hanging slightly askew. A child's highchair stood in one corner, a smudge of dried food still visible on its tray. 

Harry closed his eyes, letting his Mana Sense guide him. The signature pulsed strongest near the pantry—a subtle fluctuation in the magical fabric that an ordinary wizard might never notice.

"It's here," he said, running his fingers along the pantry's back wall.

His touch revealed a slight indentation where the wooden panels met. Pressing firmly, he felt something give way with a soft click. A section of wall slid aside, revealing a small recess behind the preserved food jars.

Inside lay a leather-bound journal, its cover embossed with a single lily flower. 

"She hid this deliberately," Harry said, pulling the journal out. "She must have known something might happen."

He opened the journal, his mother's elegant script flowing across the pages. Diagrams of runic configurations, notes on blood magic theories, and experimental results filled the early sections.

"Your mum was one smart cookie," Celeste said, peering over his shoulder. 

Harry flipped through until a page title caught his eye: Veil of Blood Counterspell.

"This is it," he breathed.

The page detailed the incantation and wand movement needed to remove the blood enchantment. According to Lily's notes, the counterspell could only be performed by the subject themselves, or by a blood relative with sufficient magical power. The instructions were meticulously precise, with warnings about potential side effects if performed incorrectly.

Should the need arise to remove this protection, the incantation must be spoken with absolute clarity while tracing the original scar pattern in reverse. The subject will experience momentary disorientation as the magic returns to them. The full effect of the counterspell depends on the caster's intent—whether to simply remove the enchantment or to reveal what lies beneath.

At the bottom of the page, Lily had added:

If you're reading this, Harry, I hope you understand why I did what I did. Some truths are too dangerous until you're ready to face them. When that time comes, release the veil—but only when you're certain you can handle what it conceals. Trust your instincts as I've always trusted them.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. She'd written this for him specifically, anticipating he might one day need to undo her work.

"Are you going to try it?" Celeste asked.

"Not yet," Harry replied, closing the journal. 

He stored the journal in his inventory. Whatever secrets his mother had concealed, she'd left him the key to uncover them when he was ready.

A notification appeared in his HUD:

======Sub-Objective Completed: Find the counterspell for the Veil of Blood enchantment. Rewards will be given after completing the main quest. 

"Let's check upstairs," Harry said. "We still need to find the memory.”

He climbed the damaged stairs and started exploring. The master bedroom looked untouched, exactly as his parents had left it that morning. A quick search revealed nothing of importance.  

Harry continued to the next room. The nursery.

Moonlight streamed through the missing section of wall and roof, illuminating his old cot. Toys scattered across the floor where his mother must have dropped them while playing with him before Uriel's arrival. 

Above the cot hovered a crimson cloud, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. 

“What the hell is that?” Harry asked, pointing to the cloud.

“What are you talking about?” Celeste asked.

“You can’t see it?”

Harry tapped his glasses, activating his HUD.

Memory Shade - Level 0 - Manifestation

This wasn't a person or monster, but rather something the System had categorised differently. 

“It’s called a Memory Shade,” Harry said. “It seems like I’m the only one that can see it.”

“Makes sense,” Celeste replied. “Or else it would have been noticed before now.”  

Harry approached slowly, extending his hand toward the cloud.

The shade enveloped his fingers, then his arm, pulling him forward into its crimson depths. He felt a curious sensation of displacement, as though his body remained while his consciousness separated.

The nursery reformed around him, but transformed—colours brightened, damaged walls restored, and everything vibrating with life. Harry stood in the middle of the room, now fully furnished and clean. His mother bent over the cot, cooing at baby Harry while waving a stuffed dragon overhead.

He could move freely through the room, though his hand passed through objects when he tried to touch them. This wasn't merely watching a memory; he existed within it, an invisible observer.

The scene unfolded exactly as before: Lily setting up the runic circle, placing baby Harry inside, Uriel's appearance, and their confrontation. The memory dissolved as the gate closed, returning Harry to the ruined nursery. He staggered backward, blinking as his mind processed what he'd witnessed.

"Harry?" Celeste hovered near his face. "What happened? You went completely still for five minutes."

“I just relived the memory again.” Harry frowned. “It was a lot more vivid than watching it on a movie screen. I should have noted down more details.”

“Maybe there is a way to view your memories?” Celeste suggested. 

“I hope so.” 

Harry realised something was off. It took him a moment to figure out what was bothering him.

"There’s no notification for completing the quest," Harry said.

He checked his HUD again. Nothing. The quest completion message he'd expected hadn't appeared, which made no sense. He’d fulfilled all the objectives for the Hollowed Memories quest, hadn’t he? Then again, it felt like the quest had been too easy. It had a hard difficulty rating after all.  

A flicker of movement caught his eye. He whirled around, raising his dagger instinctively.

Hovering above him was a woman with massive white wings stretched behind her. Her face remained in shadow, but he could make out the outline of weapons strapped to her body.

Lydia - Level 76 - Cherub

His stomach tightened. Level 76—more than four times his level. Was she a friend or an enemy? One wrong move and he'd be dead.  

"Can I help you with something?" Harry asked.

The woman descended slowly through the collapsed ceiling. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Who wants to know?"

Her feet touched the floor. Moonlight illuminated her features—sharp cheekbones, eyes the colour of burnished gold, hair cropped close to her scalp. A quiver of arrows hung at her hip, a curved bow slung across her back. At her waist gleamed a thin blade—a rapier, judging by its distinctive hilt.

"My name is Lydia. I'm looking for my master."

Celeste buzzed forward, arms crossed over her tiny chest. "Did one of your parents fornicate with a bird?"

The winged woman blinked. "What?"

"How else can you explain your form? A human with a pair of white wings? If you're not a bird, I don't know what else to call you. Maybe a harpy?"

In one fluid motion, Lydia withdrew her rapier. "Stay quiet, fairy. Before I remove your tiny head from your shoulders."

"That's Umbra Fairy to you," Celeste shot back, though she retreated to Harry's shoulder.

Harry stepped forward, drawing attention away from his companion. "Why are you so hostile? Who is your master?"

"My master is Uriel."

The name hit Harry like a physical blow. Images from the theatre room memory flashed through his mind—his mother confronting a man, a gate opening between worlds, tentacles dragging them both away. Although he was angry at the woman, he fought to keep his expression even. Getting into a fight with her sounded like a bad idea.

"Never heard of him, sorry."

Lydia's golden eyes narrowed. "You're lying. My master was here on the night of Halloween, 1981. Something happened that day to cause him to disappear."

"You do know that I was a baby, right? I don't have any memories of that night."

“That doesn’t matter,” Lydia said. "I was told that if I returned here every Halloween, I would find what I was looking for eventually. Even if you don't remember, I have ways of extracting memories from you. You're coming with me."

"Do I get a say in this matter?"

"No."

"I thought that would be the case."

Lydia raised her hand, and a chain of pure light materialised between her fingers. It hummed with energy, casting the chamber in an eerie glow. Without warning, she flicked her wrist, sending the chain whipping towards him.

Harry activated Wind Dash, his body blurring as he rolled sideways. The chain struck the floor and tore a groove in the floorboards. 

He sprang to his feet, mind racing. Fighting wouldn't work—not against someone as strong as her.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" He directed the spell at chunks of collapsed ceiling, sending debris flying at Lydia.

She batted them aside with contemptuous ease, but the distraction bought Harry precious seconds. He sprinted for the doorway, Celeste clinging to his collar.

"Gate Walker?" she squeaked in his ear.

"Too far," Harry panted. "Need to reach the church."

They burst into the corridor, Harry's boots skidding on debris-strewn floors as he navigated the ruined house. The light chain lashed out again, striking the wall inches from his head. Plaster exploded outward, showering him with fragments.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry aimed at a broken door, tearing it from its hinges and hurling it backwards without looking.

A grunt told him it had connected. Small victory.

They raced through the cottage and out into the street, Harry's heart hammering against his ribs. Lydia pursued relentlessly, her wings giving her incredible speed in the open air. The light chain whipped past Harry's ear, close enough for him to feel its heat.

"Left!" Celeste shouted as they approached a junction.

Harry veered left, immediately confronted by a low garden wall. He vaulted over it, legs burning with the effort. Behind him, Lydia's wings beat against the night air, drawing closer with each second.

The chain shot over his shoulder, wrapping around a lamppost ahead. Harry ducked as Lydia yanked, sending the metal structure crashing down. He grabbed a piece as it fell, spinning to throw it directly at her face.

She deflected it with her rapier but slowed momentarily. Harry seized the opportunity, casting another Levitation Charm on a nearby rubbish bin. The heavy object flew at Lydia, forcing her to shield herself with her wings.

They reached the village square. Trick-or-treaters scattered as Harry sprinted past, adults pulling confused children out of his path. Lydia followed, keeping to the shadows, her wings folded against her back to avoid drawing attention.

"Almost there," Harry gasped.

The church loomed ahead. The gate awaited inside, their only hope of escape. Harry's legs felt like lead as they crossed the graveyard.

They reached the church door. Harry shoved it open, the hinges protesting. Inside, the gate shimmered near the altar.

Something wrapped around his ankle, yanking him backwards. Harry crashed to the ground, chin striking the floor. The light chain burned against his skin as Lydia reeled him in like a fish.

"Gate Walker!" Harry gasped, reaching desperately for the distant gate.

Harry clawed at the floor, fingers scraping against stone as she dragged him backwards. 

Celeste darted forward. "I'll distract her!"

"No!" Harry's voice cracked. "She'll kill you! Stay back!"

Lydia walked over until she loomed over him. "Now, let's discuss my master's whereabouts."

With his free hand, Harry touched his spatial pouch to open his inventory. "I'd rather not."

Grove materialised between them, its wooden frame creaking as it immediately adopted a defensive stance. Lydia's eyes widened in genuine surprise—her first human expression since their encounter began.

The golem charged, wooden shield raised against Lydia's rapier. The blade sank into the shield, momentarily stuck in the enchanted wood.

Harry scrambled to his feet, the light chain dissolving as Lydia focused on the unexpected threat. He sprinted for the gate, Celeste right behind him.

"Gate Walker!" He reached the shimmering surface, the magic responding instantly to his command. Hogwarts appeared in his selection menu, and he confirmed without hesitation.

As the gate's magic enveloped him, Harry glanced back. Lydia had abandoned her rapier, her hands now wreathed in white flames. Grove charged again, but the cherub's fire caught its wooden frame. The golem burned impossibly fast, white flames consuming it from within.

The last thing Harry saw before the gate transported them was Grove collapsing into ash, its wooden body reduced to nothing in seconds.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Peter’s trial, and Harry investigates Lydia’s origins.  

Thanks for reading.