Azkaban Affairs

To our surprise, the door creaked open almost immediately, revealing a tall, gaunt man with a wary expression. His eyes widened as he took in our appearances, recognition dawning in his gaze.

"Harry Potter," he said, his voice a mixture of astonishment and apprehension. "And you look like Adam, you must be Adrianaa."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "Are you Thaddeus Lansworth?"

The man nodded slowly, stepping aside to let us in. "I am. But what brings you here, after all this time?"

Harry stepped forward, his expression earnest. "We need your help, Thaddeus. We're looking for answers—answers only you can provide."

Thaddeus sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had settled upon them. "Very well. Come in. There's much to discuss."

Inside Thaddeus's modest house, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Harry and I exchanged a glance, both of us silently acknowledging the significance of this moment. Thaddeus motioned for us to sit down at the small, worn table in the center of the room.

"Before we dive into the specifics," Thaddeus began, his voice tinged with weariness, "I need to know exactly what you're looking for. What brought you here after all these years?"

Harry leaned forward, his eyes intense. "We need to know about Adam Lansworth. Specifically, if he left anything behind before he disappeared to the United States."

Thaddeus's face tightened at the mention of my father. He nodded slowly, rising from his seat and moving towards a dusty cabinet in the corner of the room. After a few moments of rummaging, he produced an old, copper box, its surface tarnished with age. He placed it on the table with a solemn reverence.

"This belonged to Adam," Thaddeus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And Dorothy."

My eyes locked onto the box, my breath catching in my throat. The names "Adam Lansworth" and "Dorothy" were engraved on the lid, but Dorothy's surname had been scratched out, leaving only a few illegible marks behind.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as they traced the engraved names. "Why is my mother's surname scratched out?" I asked, my voice wavering.

Thaddeus shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. Your father was always secretive about certain aspects of his past. Perhaps he had his reasons for obscuring it."

Harry, ever the pragmatist, urged us to focus. "What's inside the box, Thaddeus?"

Thaddeus hesitated for a moment before opening the box. Inside, we found a collection of seemingly mundane items: a faded photograph of my parents, a small leather-bound journal, and an intricately carved wooden key.

"This journal contains your father's thoughts and observations," Thaddeus explained, handing it to me. "He was meticulous about recording everything, especially after he decided to leave for the United States."

I opened the journal, skimming through the pages filled with my father's elegant handwriting. Each entry painted a picture of a man deeply troubled by something he could never quite escape.

Harry examined the wooden key with a thoughtful expression. "This key... it looks familiar. I've seen this type of craftsmanship before."

Thaddeus nodded. "It's a family heirloom. Passed down through generations. Your father believed it was connected to something important, though he never elaborated on what that was."

I closed the journal, my mind racing with questions. "Why did my father leave? What was he running from?"

Thaddeus sighed, his gaze distant. "Adam was a man haunted by his past. He believed that leaving England and starting anew in America would provide a fresh start for you and your mother. But whatever he was running from, it seems to have followed him."

Harry placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We'll find out the truth, Adriana. We have more pieces of the puzzle now."

Thaddeus watched us with a mixture of concern and resolve. "There's more to this story than even I know. But whatever you discover, know that you're not alone in this."

As I examined the contents of the copper box, a nagging feeling tugged at the edge of my consciousness. Something didn't seem right. The cavity of the box wasn't as deep as it should have been for its size. My curiosity piqued, I reached out to touch the base of the compartment, my fingers tracing the edges with a growing sense of unease.

"Harry," I said, looking up at him. "I think there's more to this box. The bottom isn't deep enough."

Harry stepped closer, his wand already drawn. "Alohomora," he intoned, aiming the spell at the box. But nothing happened. The base remained stubbornly in place.

"Let me try," I suggested, taking out my own wand. With a deep breath, I focused my thoughts and cast the unlocking charm. "Alohomora."

To my astonishment, the bottom of the box gave a slight shudder before falling away completely, revealing a hidden compartment beneath. Two vials tumbled out and landed in my lap—one spherical with a red liquid, and the other cylindrical with a transparent liquid.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the contents. "Adriana, do you know what these are?"

I shook my head, my fingers trembling as I picked up the vials. "No, but I have a feeling they're important."

Harry took the cylindrical vial from my hand, holding it up to the light. "This... this is one of my memory fragments," he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief. "Your father must have hidden it here before he left."

I examined the spherical vial more closely, its red liquid glinting ominously in the light. "And this one?"

"That could be the blood key, or at least part of it. If my father went to such lengths to hide these, then they must be crucial." I couldn't believe what I was holding. My father's secrets were finally beginning to unravel, each piece fitting into a larger, more complex puzzle. "Why would he hide these here?" I wondered aloud.

"To protect you," Harry said softly. "And to keep them out of the wrong hands. Your father must have known that someone would come looking for them."

Thaddeus, who had been watching silently from the corner, stepped forward. "Your father was a cautious man, Adriana. He would have done anything to ensure your safety."

I nodded, the weight of the vials heavy in my hands. "We need to figure out what to do next," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

Harry placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "First, we'll need to restore this memory. Then, we'll decipher the significance of the red liquid. One step at a time, Adriana. We'll get to the bottom of this."

The tranquil moment shattered with the sound of curses being cast, and before I could react, three dark figures lunged at us. It was the same three men from that night in the cabin—the bald leader, the tall man with a sinister grin, and the short, scarred fellow.

"Harry, look out!" I shouted, but it was too late.

The tall man sent a curse flying towards Thaddeus. He collapsed instantly, the life draining from his eyes before he hit the ground. A cold, burning fury ignited within me, but there was no time to mourn. The red vial was yanked from my grasp, and the attackers turned to flee.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry's voice rang out, his wand pointed at the short, scarred man. The spell hit its mark, sending the man's wand flying. With a swift, fluid motion, Harry cast another spell. "Stupefy!"

The scarred man fell, his body crumpling to the ground, lifeless. But the other two, the bald leader and the tall man, disappeared into the shadows, escaping with the red vial.

"Adriana!" Harry shouted, turning to me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. "Yes, but Thaddeus... they killed him."

Harry's eyes darkened with anger and sorrow as he glanced at Thaddeus's lifeless body. "We need to get out of here. Now."

We hurried away from the estate, my mind racing with the events that had just unfolded. Once we were at a safe distance, Harry turned to me, his expression urgent. "Who were those men? Why were they after you?"

I took a deep breath, my mind flashing back to that night in the cabin. "It started a few nights ago. I was kidnapped by those men and tied up in a cabin. They were looking for something called the Blood Key, specifically the third part—the red vial."

Harry's gaze sharpened, his grip on his wand tightening. "The Blood Key? What is that, and why do they think you have it?"

"I don't know the full details," I admitted, my voice strained. "They believed I had it, but I didn't. They tortured me, but I refused to give in. Irene rescued me before they could get any answers."

Harry nodded, piecing together the fragments of my story. "And now they've come for it again. This is worse than I thought."

He looked around, ensuring we were still alone, then turned back to me. "We need to figure out who these men are and why they want the Blood Key."

"We have to go to Azkaban, Harry," I said firmly, my voice steady with resolve. "We can't let those men unlock the secret chamber and get their hands on Percival's Wand."

Harry's brow furrowed with concern as he processed my words. "But why this tale, Adriana? Out of all the legends and myths surrounding the wizarding world, why do you believe this one to be true?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for his reaction. "Because it's the only explanation that makes sense," I replied, my words echoing with conviction. "Think about it, Harry. Why would those men go to such lengths to find the Blood Key if there wasn't something of immense value hidden within that chamber?"

Harry's expression softened with understanding as he considered my words. "You may have a point," he conceded, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But even if Percival's Wand does exist, what makes you think those men can unlock the chamber?"

I met his gaze head-on, my resolve unyielding despite the odds stacked against us. "Because they have the keys, Harry," I said grimly. "And if we don't stop them, they'll unlock that chamber and unleash who knows what kind of chaos upon the wizarding world."

Harry nodded, his expression grave as the weight of our mission settled upon us. "Then we have no time to waste," he said, his voice tinged with urgency. "We'll go to Azkaban, Adriana, and we'll stop those men, no matter the cost."

The air around Azkaban was colder than I'd expected, a biting chill that seeped through my robes and settled in my bones. The fortress loomed ahead, its dark stone walls a stark silhouette against the stormy sky. Beside me, Harry Potter strode forward with a sense of familiarity, his presence commanding attention even in a place as bleak as this.

The guards at the entrance snapped to attention, their eyes widening at the sight of Harry. Whispers followed us, a low murmur of awe and curiosity. The famous Harry Potter, here at Azkaban. I couldn't help but smirk at their reactions. Fame was a double-edged sword, one I preferred to avoid. 

We were led through the labyrinthine corridors, the oppressive atmosphere pressing down on us. The smell of damp and decay was thick in the air, mingling with the distant echoes of tormented souls. I could feel the dark energy of the place, a palpable reminder of its purpose. 

Finally, we reached the jailer's office. The man behind the desk looked up, his face splitting into a wide grin when he saw Harry. He was a stout fellow, with an air of overconfidence that was almost tangible.

"Mr. Potter," he greeted, standing up and extending a hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Harry shook his hand, his expression neutral. "Just a routine check, Morrison. Anything unusual today? Any new prisoners?"

Morrison waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, everything's been quiet. Business as usual. You know how it is."

I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing. "Quiet, you say? In Azkaban? That's a fucking miracle."

Morrison's grin faltered, but he recovered quickly, puffing out his chest. "We run a tight ship here, love. Nothing gets past us."

Harry's gaze was steady, almost piercing. "Tighten the security. Double the patrols and keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

Morrison nodded, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Of course, Mr. Potter. We'll take care of it."

As we turned to leave, I cast a final look at Morrison. His confidence grated on my nerves, an irritating reminder of the complacency that often led to disaster. Harry's presence might have put him at ease, but I wasn't convinced. Azkaban was a powder keg, and all it needed was a spark.

The journey back through the corridors was silent, the oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on my mind. Harry seemed lost in thought, his brow furrowed. I could sense his concern, a shared understanding that this place was far from secure.

Outside, the cold wind hit us like a wall. I pulled my robes tighter, my mind already working through the possibilities. Azkaban was a fortress, but even the strongest walls could crumble from within. 

"Do you trust him?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Harry shook his head slightly. "Not entirely. But we don't have much choice. We'll have to keep a close watch ourselves."

The cold wind bit into my skin as I stepped outside Azkaban's gates which lead to the bleak front yard of Azkaban, the sense of confinement lingering even in the open air. I reached into my pocket, pulling out a cigarette. With a flick of my wand, the tip flared to life, and I took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl around my face.

Harry joined me, his expression unreadable. I could tell his mind was a whirl of thoughts, each one more troubling than the last. I exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching it dissipate into the darkening sky.

"So, Harry," I began, my voice cutting through the silence. "What if there really is a wand in there?"

Harry looked at me, his eyes dark and intense. "If there is, we're dealing with something far more dangerous than we anticipated. A wand like that… it's not just a weapon. It's a fucking curse."

I took another drag, savoring the burn in my lungs. "A curse, you say? What's the worst it could do?"

"It could corrupt the most righteous man," Harry said, his tone grim. "Turn heroes into villains. Make the sanest person lose their mind. If that wand is in there, it's not just those three men we need to worry about. It's ourselves."

I smirked, flicking the ash off the end of my cigarette. "Sounds like a good time, then. What's the plan? Wait for it to drive us all mad?"

Harry's jaw tightened. "No, the plan is to find it and destroy it. Before it can do any more damage."

"And what if it's already done its damage?" I asked, my eyes narrowing. "What if we're already too late?"

Harry's gaze didn't waver. "Then we fight. We fight like hell to make sure it doesn't spread. But we can't do it alone, Adriana. We need to stay sharp. Trust no one."

I laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the empty space. "Trust no one? Sounds like my kind of party."

Harry shook his head slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Just remember, Adriana, this isn't a game. The stakes are higher than you think."

"I know the stakes, Harry," I said, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette into the wind. "I'm ready for whatever comes next."

Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a phone that buzzed insistently. He glanced at the screen, his expression shifting from irritation to concern. He answered, his voice sharp.

"Morrison? What is it?"

I watched Harry's face, the shadows playing tricks in the dim light. He listened intently, his jaw tightening with each passing second. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

"What happened?" I asked, lighting another cigarette. The smoke curled lazily in the air, mingling with the scent of dead animals and cold air.

Harry lowered the phone, his eyes flicking to me. "The cleaners found something. A chamber they've never seen before."

I took a drag, considering the implications. "A chamber, huh? Sounds like we were late. They just stumbled on it now? After all these years? Definitely someone opened it"

"That's what Morrison said," Harry replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "We need to check it out. Something doesn't feel right."

I exhaled slowly, the smoke obscuring my view for a moment. "Right. Because everything about this fucking place is always on the up and up."

Harry's eyes narrowed, a glint of determination in their depths. "This could be what we're looking for."

I flicked the cigarette butt out the window, watching the ember spiral into the night. "But if this turns out to be another wild goose chase, I'm going to have words with that smug bastard Morrison."