Escaped

Harry continued his inspection.

"The magical level isn't low, but the quality is lacking."

"It's slightly better than my wandless casting."

"No—"

"It's not that the magic is low-quality. It's holding back, trying not to make too much noise."

Sirius muttered, "Was it a house-elf? I asked Professor Flitwick to enchant the Potter house. He even used Shadow Lock to keep house-elves from sneaking in. If they wanted to enter, they'd have to use the front door."

"Flitwick's magic isn't something a house-elf can break," Lupin nodded in agreement.

Emmeline almost nodded along—

Then she realized who had just spoken. Sirius Black.

That gave her pause.

"It wasn't a house-elf," Harry shook his head.

House-elves were timid creatures. They tiptoed wherever they went, careful to move silently.

But the footprints outside the house were full and firm, pressed deeply into the earth. Unless the house-elf had been carrying a very overweight Dudley, there was no way it would have left such marks.

"It was a goblin."

His brows furrowed as he straightened up. "And I have a very bad feeling about that."

"The magic on the Potter house wasn't broken, though?" Emmeline frowned, murmuring to herself.

"No. My concern isn't about the house." Harry flicked his wand, stirring the magic Professor Flitwick had set. "There aren't many goblins in Godric's Hollow. The ones connected to me? Only a few."

Creaaak—

The gate and the front door swung open.

They stepped inside, thoroughly checking every corner of the house.

No intruders.

The Death Eaters hadn't left any traps, as they had feared in the worst-case scenario.

There wasn't much to pack.

Just the books, his grandfather's portrait, and a few remaining belongings.

Arthur had borrowed a trunk from the Ministry, enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm. It was far superior to Harry's pocket—large enough to fit the entire Potter house inside if needed.

By the time they finished, it was already noon.

After a quick meal, they rushed straight to the blacksmith's forge.

—

The moment they arrived, even Sirius sensed something was off.

The magic hiding the forge was gone.

The run-down shop now lay fully exposed to the street.

"What's going on?" Emmeline pulled out her wand.

In mixed-wizard communities like this, magical buildings were typically hidden under spells to keep Muggles from wandering in. In recent times, with Muggles appearing even in the most remote places—on mountaintops, in deep-sea dives—such protections had become even more necessary.

"There's no sign of a fight," Harry said, puzzled. "But the magic was dispelled."

"I still sense people inside."

"Hawke… and some others."

He raised his hand, casting a Quen shield on himself, then stepped forward.

The door was slightly ajar.

He pushed it open.

Immediately, several people inside tensed.

A few wizards whipped out their wands, gripping them so tightly that their knuckles turned white and veins bulged.

"Lower your wands. Don't point them at me," Harry said calmly.

His gaze swept over them.

Three men in finely tailored black robes—Ministry officials, but not from the Auror Office.

And in the corner—

A miserable, trembling Hawke, curled up in fear.

"Mr. Potter?" One of the wizards spoke up, still holding his wand. But upon realizing who had entered, his grip only tightened, and his tension increased. "Why are you here?"

Harry casually flicked his wand.

"Put them down. That's dangerous."

With a few swishing sounds, the wooden tables twisted, sprouting vines that coiled around their arms—forcing them to lower their wands naturally.

"Mr. Potter!" the wizard cried out in alarm.

Ministry officials had, for the most part, bought into the Daily Prophet's claims.

Or rather, they had no choice but to believe.

Even those who doubted at first—after repeated exposure to the propaganda—found their convictions shaken.

Harry put away his wand, not sparing them another glance. "This is a blacksmith's forge. Isn't it normal for me to be here?"

"Where's Ragnok?"

He turned to Hawke, still curled up in the corner.

—

Ragnok had escaped.

—

"I knew it," Harry thought to himself.

The moment he saw those footprints outside the Potter house, he had suspected as much.

Hawke sniffled. "After the Triwizard Tournament, when Mr. Potter won and became the greatest young wizard of our time, I—I was so happy."

"The Gryffindor sword replicas were sure to sell even better! That cunning Ragnok—he grumbled and cursed, but I knew he was pleased deep down. No goblin would object to seeing a goblin-made treasure flourish in the hands of someone worthy."

"But then, the Ministry issued an order. We were banned from forging Gryffindor sword replicas. Everything related to Mr. Potter was blacklisted."

"My precious, precious Galleons were taken from me!"

Hawke's sobs grew louder.

There was nothing more painful to a goblin than being forbidden to make money.

"Ragnok was furious. He even wasted his own wages at the pub, drinking his sorrows away," Hawke continued. "But what could we do?"

"We're just lowly goblins, forced to obey wizarding laws."

"But Ragnok didn't think that way. He always acted like the forge was his own property. When the Ministry wizards came to confiscate our tools, he fought back. He injured one of them—stole a smithing hammer—"

Hawke paused for a moment.

"But he hadn't run away yet. He hid in his burrow beneath the forge. Then, just a few days ago, when I went to check on him—he was gone!"

"He ran! Afraid of the Ministry's punishment for attacking a wizard."

Lupin scoffed. "I highly doubt the Ministry had the guts to punish him."

The Ministry's relationship with non-human beings had always been a contradiction.

They viewed themselves as above these creatures—yet when it came to direct confrontation, they hesitated, treating them with excessive caution.

This paradox defined the entire Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Lupin knew them well.

The three Ministry officials bared their teeth but hesitated to argue back—particularly since Lupin himself wasn't human.

"Do you have any idea where Ragnok might have gone?" Harry asked.

Hawke shook his head. "No, I don't. Maybe he'd go to one of the Old Guard goblins, but I already checked. He wasn't there."

"Any other clues?" Harry pressed.

Hawke shook his head twice, then suddenly froze.

"Friends!" he blurted.

"Yes, I saw Ragnok make two friends!"

"In the pub. They wore black robes, very mysterious. But strangely enough… they got along well with him."

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Powerstones?

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