HP: The Artisan's Path: Chapter 96

Hi all, 

Here’s the second chapter of the week. The group arrives in Boston, and Harry learns of a new threat the American’s are fighting.

Chapter 96

The Thunderbird's cabin hummed with quiet conversation as they cruised over the Atlantic. Harry watched through the window as clouds rushed past at impossible speeds, the ocean below appearing as little more than a blue blur. 

Various magical instruments blinked and whirred at the workstations, their purpose a mystery to the passengers. Harry could deduce the uses for some of the instruments but others left him perplexed. 

"You said that it takes four hours from France to Boston," Hermione said, counting on her fingers. "That means we have to be travelling at Mach One."

James glanced back from the cockpit. "That's right."

"What is Mach One?" Susan asked.

"It's the speed of sound. Around twelve hundred kilometres per hour," Hermione explained.

Daphne, Blaise, Susan and Gabrielle looked amazed at that fact.

"How fast are our broomsticks?" Susan asked.

"The Firebolt is the fastest broomstick on the market right now,” Harry said, recalling the specifications he'd memorised from Quality Quidditch Supplies' catalogue. “It goes up to 240-250 kilometres an hour." 

Susan shifted nervously in her seat. "That is scary. It doesn't feel like we're going that fast."

"These American artisans are amazing for creating such a thing," Blaise said. "Imagine if the Muggles could get hold of something this fast."

Hermione snorted. "They have already achieved much faster than this. The SR-71 Blackbird could—"

"That's right," James called back, interrupting what promised to be a lengthy explanation. "This has nothing on some fighter jets out there. The Thunderbird can go up to Mach Two, but it drains a lot of juice so we only use it in emergencies.”

Harry nudged Hermione. "How do you even know the distance between France and Boston?" 

"I know my geography. I can estimate the distance," Hermione replied.

Harry shook his head, amazed at her knowledge but not entirely surprised. This was Hermione, after all.

Daphne leaned into him, her voice low enough that the Americans couldn't overhear. "Harry, don't you think this entire thing is over the top?"

Harry's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

The others leaned in to listen to their conversation, forming a tight circle of whispered discussion.

Daphne waved her hand to indicate the jet. "Picking us up in this airplane."

"It's a jet. The distinction is important," Harry corrected, earning an eye roll from Daphne.

"What I'm getting at is that picking us up in their latest toy seems a little excessive given you're only an upcoming artisan from Britain," she continued, her green eyes serious.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Don't get me wrong," Daphne hastily added. "You're very talented and deserve the opportunity to travel to America to learn about Magitech. But the way they are going about it..."

"I was thinking the same," Hermione interjected. "It would have been much cheaper and easier to arrange an International Portkey. This feels like they are showing off." 

"It's like they have an ulterior motive," Blaise said.

"Maybe they want to steal Harry from the European Artisan Guild," Gabrielle suggested.

Harry shrugged, though the others' observations had him thinking. "I doubt it. My magical engineering is pants compared to them. Even if it were the case, my grandparents wouldn’t allow me to move to America."

Charlus turned in his seat. “Since we have some free time, how about we get started on our lessons?”

Harry groaned. 

The rest of the journey passed quickly, filled with quiet conversation and speculation about what awaited them in Boston. As they approached the city, the Thunderbird began its descent. Through the windows, Harry marvelled at his first glimpse of Boston. The sprawl was different from London—shorter and more spread out, with narrow streets winding between red brick buildings in the older districts. 

The morning sun sparkled off the water, highlighting the dozens of boats dotting the harbour. Rivers cut through the city like blue ribbons, their banks lined with parks and old warehouses. From this height, Harry could see how the city had grown outward from its historic heart, the architecture shifting from colonial-era buildings to more recent construction as his gaze moved towards the outskirts.

The jet touched down on the outskirts of the city, on what appeared to be an abandoned farm field, the overgrown grass rippled in the wake of their landing. A sprawling complex materialised before them as they crossed through an invisible barrier. 

The American Artisan Guild headquarters spread across several acres, its main building a grand colonial-style mansion with white columns and red brick walls. Modern additions extended from the original structure like spokes of a wheel—workshops, residential buildings, laboratories, and testing grounds, each building purpose-built rather than trying to maintain the historical aesthetic. A high stone wall enclosed the grounds, though Harry suspected it was there to mark the boundaries of the property rather than as a security measure

Elizabeth stood as the engines powered down with a decreasing whine. "Welcome to Boston. We'll have someone show you to your accommodation. Then we can have lunch in the cafeteria.”

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

After lunch in the cafeteria, Elizabeth led them on a comprehensive tour of the headquarters. The main building housed the administrative offices and conference rooms, but Harry's interest lay in the surrounding facilities that sprawled across the grounds.

They visited several specialised workshops first. The forges rang with the sounds of metal being shaped, magical flames burning far hotter than conventional fire. Artisans crafted components for everything from enchanted vehicles to experimental magical devices. The air smelled of hot metal and ozone.

The testing grounds particularly captured Harry's attention. Multiple enclosed areas, each the size of a Quidditch pitch, allowed for safely trialling new inventions. The reinforced walls bore impressive scorch marks and magical residue from previous experiments.

"We're entirely self-sufficient here," Elizabeth explained as they walked between facilities. "We have our own energy supply, food production, and security systems. The wards alone took years to get right and they’re constantly being upgraded.”

She gestured towards a residential area where colonial-style houses lined neat streets. Small gardens produced magical and mundane plants alike, and Harry spotted what appeared to be a primary school at the end of one street.

"Is your guild self-contained?" Harry asked. "Don't you have branches like Europe does?"

"We maintain branches in most major cities," Elizabeth replied, leading them past a building where several Artisans were testing what looked like a scaled-down version of the Thunderbird. "But our core research and development happens here. We have over five hundred Artisans and Enchanters working full-time on classified projects. The security risks alone make centralisation necessary."

She paused, watching the test vehicle execute a perfect vertical takeoff. "The European model of independent workshops has its advantages, but we've found that collaboration yields better results. When you have hundreds of brilliant minds working in close proximity, innovation tends to accelerate exponentially."

Harry nodded thoughtfully, already seeing the benefits and drawbacks of such an approach. The level of advancement was impressive, but it also meant MACUSA held a virtual monopoly on magical technology development in their country. Unlike Europe, the American Artisan Guild was a branch of the magical government. 

As they concluded their tour by the main building, Elizabeth consulted a slim leather diary. "You'll have the weekend free to explore. I can arrange transportation to any place you would like to visit. On Monday, we'll start with a two-day intensive course on magical engineering principles before moving on to practical applications."

"Since we're discussing transport,” Harry said. “Is there any chance I could take the Thunderbird for a spin?"

"Absolutely not," Elizabeth replied flatly, though her lips twitched. “Even if you were old enough, it’s not a toy to be played with.”

“Spoilsport,” Harry grumbled. “By the way, how much of this place is off-limits? I noticed that you steered clear of several areas.”

“Most of it,” Elizabeth replied. “But I can get you clearance for some projects as long as you sign a NDA.”

“Does that mean I have to sign my life away?” Harry shook his head. “Maybe I’ll keep my curiosity in check.”

“Paranoid much?”

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

Harry wandered through the testing grounds that evening, feeling restless. After exploring parts of Boston with his girlfriends, he wasn’t tired at all. He found his mind sparking with random thoughts and new ideas. Maybe it was the unfamiliar environment that made him feel this way.

A rhythmic thudding sound drew his attention to one of the enclosed areas.

A tall man with close-cropped blonde hair stood facing a target. He held a black composite bow. Instead of reaching for a quiver, he drew back the bowstring and a green arrow materialised. The arrow flew true, striking the centre of the target before dissipating.

As Harry moved closer for a better look, the man lowered his bow. "See something interesting?"

"Actually, yes," Harry replied. "I'm working on a bow project myself. Never seen one that creates magical arrows, though."

The man's weathered face creased in a smile. "Come closer then. Name's Mike." He held out the bow. "Want to try?"

Harry accepted the weapon. It felt lighter than he expected, the grip fitting comfortably in his hand. Mike showed him the correct stance and how to draw the string.

"Inject your magic into the bow," Mike instructed. "It'll do the rest."

Harry felt a gentle pull on his magic as he drew back the string. An arrow formed. He aimed and released. The arrow struck the outer ring of the target.

"Not bad for a first try," Mike said, looking impressed. "Ever fired an arrow before?"

"A little. Need to test out by bow if I’m going to get it right." 

He watched as Mike fired another green arrow. 

"Isn't it wasteful?" Harry asked, handing him back the bow. "Using your magic to create arrows when you could just carry physical ones?"

"That's the beauty of it,” Mike said. “The bow acts as a focus, like a wand. It shapes the magic into different forms depending on what you need." 

He drew back the string again. "Watch."

This time, the arrow that formed glowed red. When it struck the target, it exploded like a small bomb. The next arrow he created crackled with electricity, while another split into multiple projectiles mid-flight.

"The bow gives it direction and a longer range,” Mike explained. “More useful than a wand in certain situations, and you never run out as long as you have magic."

Interesting. His mind was already bursting with ideas to use in his own project. He had only been here for less than a day and it was already paying dividends.   

"It’s a similar principle to my cards." Harry pulled out his deck. "Each card holds a specific spell, but they're single-use. The trade-off is that anyone can use them, even if they don't have the magical power or skill to cast the spell normally."

He spread several cards on a nearby bench and explained their effects. 

"Interesting approach," Mike said, examining one of the cards. "You've created spells that don't require the user's magic except for a minuscule amount to trigger it. Must be complicated to make, though."

"The enchanting process was a nightmare at first," Harry admitted. "Took me ages to get it right but now it’s much easier.”

Mike gestured to his bow. "Want to try something more advanced?"

Harry grinned, accepting the weapon again. Over the next twenty minutes, Mike showed him how to form different types of arrows—though Harry's attempts were far less impressive than Mike's demonstrations. His explosive arrow fizzled rather than detonated, and his attempt at a lightning arrow just produced some weak sparks.

"It's all about visualisation and intent," Mike coached. "Just like any other magic. The bow helps focus and shape it, but you have to provide direction."

Harry's next attempt produced a decent ice arrow that at least reached the target before dissolving. "I see why you need the testing grounds for practice. Wouldn't want these going astray."

"Had a few close calls when we were developing the enchantments," Mike admitted with a chuckle. 

Harry nodded. “I wish I had a setup like this.”

“Where'd you get the idea to create the spell cards?" Mike asked.

"Ever read the X-Men comics? Gambit is my favourite character."

"Ah, the card-throwing Cajun," Mike grinned. "You know there's a comic convention happening in San Francisco at the end of the month?"

“Of course. I’m going to be there.”

Harry picked Mike’s brain for more ideas before he headed back to his room. As he passed the aircraft landing zone, he heard raised voices followed by the roar of jet engines. The sound cut off abruptly as the silencing enchantments engaged.

Harry paused, curiosity piqued. The night shift seemed unusually busy for testing aircraft. Through gaps in the buildings, he caught glimpses of people rushing about with purpose, their faces tense in the floodlights.

A familiar figure appeared—James, the Thunderbirds pilot. He jogged past Harry's position, speaking rapidly into what looked like a modified two-way mirror. "The second team is ready for launch. Just waiting on confirmation from New York."

Harry frowned, wondering what could prompt such urgent activity. Before he could ponder further, he spotted Elizabeth striding towards the test area, her usual composed demeanour replaced by sharp, efficient movements.

Something was happening, but Harry knew better than to investigate further. Whatever had the Americans scrambling their aircraft in the middle of the night probably wasn't something they'd want to discuss with him.

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

2nd July

The desert sun beat down mercilessly as they approached the hidden sanctuary in Arizona. Elizabeth had arranged a Portkey for their morning journey. Harry suspected she was eager to get rid of them, seemingly preoccupied with something else.

An old cowboy hat deposited them rather unceremoniously in the dust. Harry helped Hermione and Daphne to their feet while the others remained standing, examining their surroundings.

Their guide, a weathered Native American wizard named John Running-Deer, waited for them patiently while they oriented themselves. 

"The Thunderbird's natural habitat is Arizona," John explained as they hiked up a rocky trail. "Though they can be found throughout North America, the largest population nests in these mountains."

Gabrielle clutched her camera eagerly, practically bouncing with each step. Her excitement had been infectious since they decided on the trip yesterday.

"How many are we likely to see?" she asked.

"If we're lucky, maybe one or two," John replied. "They're very territorial and prefer to avoid humans. The sanctuary covers over a hundred square miles to give them enough space. The area is known for its frequent thunderstorms but the mundanes don’t suspect the Thunderbirds are the cause."

They reached a viewpoint overlooking a vast canyon. The rock formations glowed red and orange in the morning light. John raised his hand for them to stop and stay quiet.

"Watch the sky," he whispered. "They often hunt at this time of day."

They didn't have to wait long. A massive shadow passed overhead, followed by a sound like distant thunder. Harry looked up to see an enormous bird, its wingspan easily reaching twenty feet. Golden feathers gleamed in the sunlight as it banked through the canyon.

Gabrielle's camera clicked rapidly as she captured photos of the majestic creature. The Thunderbird's head was similar to an eagle's but larger and more angular. Lightning crackled between its wing feathers as it rode the thermal currents.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" John said proudly. "That's one of our resident males. We call him Storm-Bringer."

"Why's that?" Susan asked.

As if in answer, the Thunderbird let out a piercing cry. Dark clouds began forming above it, swirling into existence from the previously clear sky. Within minutes, a localised storm had developed, complete with lightning and sheets of rain.

"They create storms when they fly," John explained as they huddled under a magically waterproof shelter he conjured. "It's how they hunt—the lightning disorients their prey, usually larger magical creatures that most wizards wouldn't want to tangle with."

"Like what?" Blaise asked, watching as the Thunderbird dove through its self-made storm.

"Horned Serpents mostly, though they'll take on almost anything that threatens their territory. But they coexist with other magical creatures as well. They're intelligent creatures, capable of recognising friend from foe."

The storm intensified as a second Thunderbird joined the first. Lightning arced between them as they performed what looked like an aerial dance, their calls echoing off the canyon walls.

"That's probably his mate," John said. "They pair for life. The sanctuary helps protect their nesting sites—Thunderbird eggs are highly valued on the black market for their magical properties."

"What properties?" Hermione asked, already taking notes.

"The shells can be used to make valuable potions. And the feathers..." John shook his head. "Well, let's just say there's a reason MACUSA keeps such tight control over any that naturally fall from the birds."

The storm began to dissipate as the Thunderbirds moved further down the canyon. Gabrielle reviewed her photos excitedly, showing them to the others. She had managed to capture several spectacular shots, including one of both birds silhouetted against a lightning flash.

"Will we see their nest?" she asked hopefully.

John shook his head. "Too dangerous. The parents would interpret it as a threat. Besides, the nests are protected by some of the strongest wards MACUSA can create. We've lost too many eggs to poachers over the years to take chances."

A shadow passed overhead, and Storm-Bringer swooped low across their group, so close that Harry could feel the static electricity crackling in the air. Something golden fluttered down, and Harry reached out instinctively, catching a gleaming feather before it could touch the ground.

John fell silent, staring at the feather with an expression of awe.

"What?" Harry asked, suddenly uncomfortable with everyone's attention focused on him. "Should I not have caught it?"

"In my people's traditions," John said slowly, his voice taking on a rhythmic quality, "when a Thunderbird gifts a feather, it is a sign of great importance. They are beings of storm and sky, of power and change. To receive such a gift..." 

He paused, studying Harry intently. "It means you stand at a crossroads. Great storms gather in your future, young wizard. The Thunderbird sees this and offers its blessing."

Harry examined the feather. Small sparks danced along its edges but it didn’t hurt.

"The last recorded gifting of a Thunderbird feather was to Seraphina Picquery, before she became President of MACUSA," John added. "And before that… Well, such events are rare enough to become legend."

"Does that mean I have to become President of MACUSA?" Harry asked dryly.

John chuckled. "The meaning is yours to interpret. But I would keep that feather close. Such gifts have a way of proving useful when most needed."

As they made their way back down the trail, Harry noticed dark clouds gathering in the distance. "Another Thunderbird?"

"No," John said, his expression growing serious. "That's a natural storm. We should head back—they can get nasty out here."

They reached the magical transport just as the wind began picking up. Through the windows during their flight back, they watched lightning illuminate the desert landscape.

"That was amazing," Gabrielle said, still reviewing her photos. "Though I wish we could have gotten closer."

"Be thankful we didn't," John replied with a knowing smile. "The last researcher who tried getting too close for photos ended up thrown half a mile by the wind. Thunderbirds are beautiful, but they command respect."

The raw power these creatures wielded was remarkable. They would present a challenge even to Fawkes in his empowered state. Unfortunately, the phoenix had chosen to spend the summer with Solas rather than accompany Harry to America. Both Hedwig and Nagini had likewise opted to remain behind with Sirius, showing no interest in travelling across the Atlantic.

"Thank you for showing us," Harry said. "It was an amazing experience."

"Glad you thought so," John replied. "Not many young wizards appreciate creatures like this anymore. They're too focused on spells and wands to notice nature's magic."

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

3rd July

Harry arrived at the classroom ten minutes early, expecting to find it empty. Instead, he discovered several students around his age already seated.

Daniel Fischer stood at the front, arranging papers on his desk with nervous energy. He looked up when Harry entered. "Ah, Mr Potter! Please, take a seat. We're about to begin."

Harry chose a spot near the middle of the room. A girl with dark braids leant over from the adjacent desk. "You're the British artisan, right? I'm Maya Chen—Elizabeth's daughter."

Before Harry could respond, Daniel cleared his throat. "Let's begin with introductions. Please state your name and area of interest."

Maya went first. "Maya Chen, America. I'm interested in the integration of Muggle electronics with magical devices."

A boy with spiky black hair and rectangular glasses spoke next. "Akio Tanaka from Japan. I'm fascinated by magical miniaturisation techniques."

"Sophia Schmidt," said a tall blonde girl with a German accent. "My focus is on magical energy storage."

Several more students introduced themselves, including Luis Rodriguez from Brazil, whose interest lay in weather manipulation, and Aisha Patel from India, who was keen on magical transportation systems.

"Excellent," Daniel said, writing something on the blackboard. "Now, the fundamentals of magical engineering differ from traditional enchanting in several key ways."

He drew a diagram showing the interaction between magic and physical components. "While traditional artisans focus on creating magical objects that serve the magical community, magical engineers work to create systems where magic and mundane technology work together naturally. Think of it like building a machine where magic is just another component, like gears or circuits."

The lesson continued with Daniel explaining various principles. Harry took detailed notes, particularly interested in the sections about stable magical fields and power distribution.

As they filed out after class, Harry spotted Elizabeth waiting in the corridor with his grandparents. She beckoned him over.

"How was your first lesson?" she asked.

"Fascinating," Harry replied. "Though you didn't mention there would be other students."

"Would that have changed your decision to come?"

"No, but—"

"Good," Elizabeth interrupted. "Because the students represent the next generation of artisans from around the world. We select only the most promising for this programme."

She gestured for him to follow her. "Would you and your grandparents join me in my office? Some people'd like to meet you."

Harry exchanged glances with his grandparents before following Elizabeth to the main building. When they entered her office, they found three people waiting for them. Their formal robes and serious expressions marked them as government officials.

"Allow me to make the introductions," Elizabeth said. "To my left is Director Sarah Martinez, who heads MACUSA's Artisan Guild Department."

She gestured to a sharp-featured woman in a tailored suit who carried herself with military precision.

"Next to her is Jacob Crawford, Head of International Cooperation." A middle-aged man with greying temples nodded in acknowledgement. "And finally, William Wallace, our Director of Magical Defence." The last man, broad-shouldered and wearing formal robes, gave a curt nod.

"What's going on here?" Harry asked.

Elizabeth took a breath. “There was another reason we invited you here beyond exchanging ideas, Harry.”  

"You brought us here under false pretences?" Charlus demanded. "Perhaps we should pack our bags and leave."

Minerva nodded in agreement, her nostrils flaring.

"Please, hear us out," Elizabeth said quickly. "First, our offer to Harry is genuine. It's no secret that the European Guild has tried to hide your talents, Harry. Your skills at your age are nothing short of incredible. We believe we have much to teach each other."

"Spare me the flattery," Harry said. "What do you want?”

"We're looking for talented artisans to help deal with a major threat that seeks to destabilise our world," Crawford replied. 

Minerva and Charlus exchanged concerned glances.

"There are plenty of those going around," Harry replied dryly.

Martinez shook her head. "This threat we’re facing is nothing we have ever seen before. At least not in modern times.”

"Well, spill it," Charlus grunted. "What's this threat that has MACUSA so rattled?"

Elizabeth's expression darkened. "The threat comes from Russia. More specifically, from an advisor to the Russian Magical Federation who we believe is the true power behind their recent aggression. They call her Baba Yaga."

"The witch from Slavic folklore?" Minerva asked, her Scottish accent sharpening with disbelief. "The one who lives in a house with chicken legs? Surely you can't be serious."

"Oh, we're quite serious," Crawford said grimly. "Given what we know, it’s possible that the woman is the same one that inspired the folklore.”

Harry felt a knot in his stomach as a terrible suspicion started to take shape in his mind.

“She appeared several years ago,” Crawford continued. “Seemingly from nowhere, and quickly became the RMF president's most trusted advisor. Within months, their policies shifted dramatically. The changes were subtle at first—increased funding for magical research and expansion of their Magitech divisions. But then things took an unexpected turn."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"The RMF began developing advanced magical technology at an impossible rate," Crawford explained. "They went from having virtually no Magitech program to rivalling our capabilities in less than five years. The level of advancement simply isn't possible without some form of... outside assistance."

Charlus' eyes narrowed. "You investigated the possibility of espionage?"

"Extensively," William said. "But when we examined captured Russian artifacts, we found something disturbing. Their runic arrays are unlike anything we've ever encountered. The complexity and structure are completely alien to ours."

"We've had our best minds working on decoding these arrays for months," Elizabeth added. "Then we heard about a British wizard who'd created an appraisal scroll capable of analysing magical items. We brought as many as we could as soon as they hit the market."

Harry blinked. He could never have imagined his scrolls would be used for such a purpose. No wonder his scrolls had sold so well in America.

“What did you find?” Harry asked.

“Only basic information,” Elizabeth said. “Nothing that we didn’t already know ourselves. It was disappointing but it did give us a direction.” 

“I never said they were omnipotent,” Harry said. "Let me guess—you tried to replicate my work?"

Elizabeth met his gaze steadily. "We tried to improve upon it. Failed spectacularly, though. The Obscuring Array proved impossible to crack."

"And you're admitting this to my face?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Why not?" Elizabeth replied with a slight shrug. "You've already proven you're very talented in certain areas. We're hoping that honesty might encourage cooperation."

Harry wasn't satisfied with their answer. It sounded as though they had only come to him when they didn't have any other choice. They were patting him on the head and saying, "You should be honoured that your work is good enough for us to steal. Now be a good chap and give up your secrets."

"Why the deception?" Charlus growled. "You could have been upfront about it from the start. Have you informed the ICW? They would want to know if they had a threat on their doorstep."

"We don't know whom to trust," Crawford replied. "There is some evidence suggesting that some European countries are cooperating with the Russian Magical Federation."

An uneasy silence settled over the room. The Potters were all thinking the same thing. They had just dealt a major blow to Obsidian only to learn there may be a bigger threat lurking out there they hadn’t been aware of.  

"What about the Russian Muggle government?" Minerva asked. "Are they aware of what their magical counterparts are up to?"

"We don't think so," William said. "They act independently of the Muggle government and manipulate them when it suits their needs."

“So what do you want from me exactly?” Harry asked.

Elizabeth exchanged glances with her colleagues. "We've brought several talented artisans from around the world in the hope of deciphering the Russian artifacts. You happened to be at the top of our list of potential candidates."

"Wait a moment," Charlus interjected. "Why invite artisans Harry's age? Surely more experienced practitioners would be better suited?"

Elizabeth grimaced. "The largest population of artisans comes from Europe, and our relationship with them is rather strained at present. Moreover..."

"You're hoping to identify the most promising young talents from around the world and recruit them for yourselves," Minerva finished.

"That's correct," Elizabeth admitted without a hint of shame.

"Let's return to this Baba Yaga you mentioned," Harry said, wanting to verify something. "Where do you believe she originated?"

“We can’t say for sure,” Elizabeth said grimly. “But considering the knowledge the Russians have, we believe she’s a deity."

Harry's head snapped up at that word. The Americans exchanged looks at his reaction.

"You know about deities?" Martinez asked, her voice sharp with interest.

"I've had an encounter with one," Harry replied. "Not a pleasant one, either. Was that commotion with the jet last night related to the Russians?"

Crawford nodded slowly. "There's an island in the Pacific. Rich in magical resources. We've been competing with the Russians for access to it."

Minerva arched an eyebrow. "Competing?" 

"Last night, they attacked our ship stationed near the island," William said. "It's an escalation we can't ignore."

Harry walked in silence through the corridor beside his grandparents after leaving Elizabeth’s office. His stomach churned as he considered the implications of what they'd learnt.

If Baba Yaga was truly a deity, they were facing something far more dangerous than Obsidian. 

There were only two ways for a deity to reach Earth from the Fae Realm. The first was through a gate, but Harry had recently learnt they were afraid to do that because of something that guarded the space between—the being they called the Great Enemy.

Which left only the second option: a ritual. Someone must have performed magic powerful enough to bring Baba Yaga to Earth. The thought made Harry's blood run cold. Why was a deity returning now? And with the Source in the Fae Realm, cracking down on them, how did they manage to return?

His grandmother's hand squeezed his shoulder as they walked, but it did little to ease the dread settling in his chest.

So, what do you think? In the next chapter, Harry takes a look at the Russian artifacts and tries to decipher them.

Thanks for reading.