Chapter 364: Familiar Grounds

After changing clothes, Miranda wasted no words and led Hoffa straight toward the village. As they ran, Hoffa glanced at the leaves covering his body, rustling in the night breeze like the feathers of a bird. He had serious doubts about whether this disguise would work—the old shepherd didn't seem like someone easily fooled.

They passed through the birch forest under the cover of night, approaching the village from the opposite side. Before they even got close, they heard faint voices growing clearer as they neared.

Miranda stopped and gave Hoffa a look. He understood instantly and crouched down, pretending to be part of the underbrush.

Miranda also pressed herself against a birch tree beside him, holding her breath.

Moments later, two men carrying torches strolled into view. One was a tall, burly man with a thick beard, a bow and quiver slung across his back, and rubber boots on his feet. He had a pipe between his lips, exuding a rugged and fierce presence. The other man wore a long robe and a pointed hat, holding a wooden staff in his hand.

As they got closer, their conversation became distinct.

"This gathering might attract those lunatics' attention. If they really show up, I doubt we have enough people to fend them off."

"Will the Phoenix Society come? Haven't they been corresponding with us frequently?"

"Abeforth doesn't trust his brother. Hmph, I wouldn't either. Their noble lifestyle has dulled their edge. They live in pure-blood mansions in the city, feasting on meals cooked by house elves. Those pampered fools can't save the wizarding world."

Hoffa's ears perked up. It was the first time he had so clearly heard the word magic from someone else's mouth. Excitement surged through him, making his whole body tremble.

Miranda noticed his reaction and quickly nudged him lightly, signaling him to stay calm. But that small movement caused the two men to suddenly stop in their tracks.

The bearded man with the bow turned his head toward the trees, frowning. "I smell something that doesn't belong here—a woman's scent."

The man in the pointed hat sniffed the air twice and scoffed. "Your nose must be part dog. There's no woman here."

"If I say I smell one, then I do. It's a male instinct. If you don't pick it up, maybe you're not a man."

Hearing their exchange, Hoffa instinctively sniffed as well. Sure enough, there was a faint trace of violets in the air. He had grown accustomed to Miranda's scent from being around her all the time, but it was clearly strong enough for others to notice.

He glanced at Miranda and saw her clenching her fists, her face slightly flushed—both nervous and annoyed.

"I think you're just pent up," the pointed-hat man muttered. "You need to find yourself a wife."

The bearded man ignored him, instead drawing an arrow and aiming it toward the dark forest. "Hey! Whoever's there, come out! Don't make me come get you!"

Hoffa looked at Miranda worriedly. She took a deep breath and then mouthed to him:

"Don't speak."

Then, raising her hands, she stepped out from behind the birch tree.

Seeing her emerge, both men were visibly startled. The pointed-hat man exclaimed, "There is a woman! How did I not smell her?"

The bearded man, however, looked Miranda up and down with surprise. "Huh. That's quite the outfit. Who are you?"

Miranda casually flipped her hair and replied calmly, "I'm from Ireland. I received your flyer about a magic gathering here."

At her words, the bearded man slightly lowered his bow.

"Ireland? So, you're Celtic?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Miranda shot back.

The bearded man squinted, as if deep in thought.

Meanwhile, the pointed-hat man was thrilled. "Fantastic! We need allies from different regions. If we can unite all the wizards from the Three Isles, our chances of reclaiming the wizarding world will be much higher!"

"Hold on, Chris, don't get ahead of yourself," the bearded man interjected, dampening his companion's enthusiasm. He exhaled a puff of smoke and continued scrutinizing Miranda—until his gaze shifted to Hoffa, who was still crouched in disguise as a bush.

Hoffa felt the man's sharp eyes on him and nervously averted his gaze. This outfit was beyond humiliating.

"What's that?" the bearded man asked, pointing at Hoffa.

"My pet," Miranda replied without hesitation.

"Your pet?" He looked doubtful.

"I'm a Druid. Is it so strange for me to have a treant as a pet?"

"Well, I'll be damned, a treant," the rugged man muttered.

He lowered his bow and approached Hoffa, puffing smoke as he curiously ran his dirty fingers over the leaves covering Hoffa's body. At first, Hoffa endured it—but suddenly, the man smacked him hard between the legs.

Hoffa's pupils dilated in shock as he leaped backward.

The man clicked his tongue in amusement. "Hey, treant, how do you reproduce? Do you stick a branch into a tree hollow?"

"HAHAHAHA!"

The pointed-hat man burst into shrill laughter, which irritated Hoffa immensely. But he gritted his teeth and endured it, staying silent behind Miranda.

Without a change in expression, Miranda stepped between them, blocking the bearded man with a cold stare. "Enough. I came here because I received your flyer about the gathering. Now, where's the Boar's Head Tavern?"

The bearded man folded his arms, gazing down at her with an indifferent smirk. "Alright then, dear Druid lady, I have many keys but cannot open a single door. Tell me, what am I?"

A riddle! Hoffa's heart pounded. If he had another chance, he would not get it wrong this time.

But Miranda seemed frozen. She hesitated before replying, "I don't know."

Hoffa bit his lip in frustration, nearly stepping forward to answer. But remembering Miranda's earlier instructions, he forced himself to stay silent.

"You don't know?"

The bearded man muttered, while the pointed-hat man instantly grew cautious. He drew a small wand from his waist and warily eyed the girl covered in strange markings.

However, the bearded man took the opposite approach. He slung his bow over his back and, with a relaxed tone, said, "Go ahead, Celt. But next time, don't take the forest path. There are many beasts in there—dangerous beasts."

With that, he looked into the eyes beneath Hoffa's leafy cover and smiled slightly before turning away.

The man in the pointed hat spoke uneasily, "Kemo, she didn't even answer the riddle, and you're letting her in?"

"You can't expect a lion to turn into an eagle. Let's go."

He patted the robed man on the backside. The man in the pointed hat jerked away, his expression twitching as he awkwardly protested, "Don't be so crude out here."

The two continued their conversation as they walked further away.

Once they were gone, Hoffa eagerly leaned in and whispered into Miranda's ear.

"It was a piano! How could you not know that? Key! Key!"

"Shut up!"

Miranda shot him a fierce glare.

Hoffa clamped his mouth shut.

"Do you think he's stupid, or am I the fool here?" Miranda said coldly. "I'm a Celt who has never left the forest—how would I possibly know what a piano is? He was testing me."

Hoffa finally realized what she meant, and a wave of embarrassment washed over him. That rugged-looking man had completely fooled him.

"I was the fool," he muttered bitterly.

Miranda said nothing more. They maneuvered past two patrolling men and slipped from the forest into the village. Before long, they spotted an unusual building with a wild boar's head mounted above the entrance. The structure was pitch black, with a crooked chimney and grimy windows covered in yellowish grease. It looked filthy.

But compared to the other darkened buildings in the village, this one was the only place with light shining from within.

Hoffa's heart pounded in his chest, and his head felt heavier with each step. Was he about to find magic? Was he about to recover his lost memories?

Yet, Miranda showed no intention of entering the building. She didn't even glance at the Boar's Head Tavern as she continued walking straight ahead.

Hoffa couldn't understand—weren't they supposed to go inside? Why were they suddenly passing it by?

As if sensing his confusion, Miranda spoke before he could ask.

"Shut up. Just follow me."

Hoffa had no choice but to obey.

But suddenly, he thought of the Heartstone.

Miranda had once said that finding the Heartstone would lead them to magic. Yet now, she hadn't mentioned it at all. Did that mean she was already certain it was in this village?

What did the stone even look like?

He wanted to ask Miranda, but she had already ordered him to stay quiet and blend in like a shadow. So he swallowed his curiosity and silently followed her.

They moved deeper into the dark village, leaving the Boar's Head Tavern behind. The houses here looked ancient. The cabbage fields, long neglected, had withered, and pumpkins piled near doorsteps were moldy and rotting.

From its appearance, the village must have once been a lively place. But now, it was abandoned. The people who lived here had vanished, leaving only empty signboards creaking in the wind.

Miranda stopped in front of a dimly lit building.

Under the pale moonlight, Hoffa made out the words on the sign.

Honeydukes.

His head throbbed again.

He didn't want to go inside.

For some reason, he found himself longing for the forgotten corners of London's garbage heaps, where no one paid him any mind.

Miranda pushed open the door to Honeydukes.

A cloud of dust billowed into the air as the neglected entrance creaked open. She grabbed Hoffa's wrist and stepped inside the darkened building.

This place must have been a shop once, but now, only empty shelves remained, covered in thick dust. Hoffa rubbed his temples, trying to suppress the growing pain in his head as he followed behind Miranda.

In the storage room, Miranda crouched on the floor, feeling around for something. After a moment, she carefully pried up a wooden board, revealing a deep, pitch-black hole beneath the floor.

The sight of the hole made Hoffa shudder uncontrollably.

"Miranda…"

An inexplicable fear welled up inside him.

This fear had been there ever since he first met Miranda, though his journey had slowly dulled it. But now, it returned with full force. He couldn't tell if it was the darkness of the hole or the sudden tension in Miranda's face that frightened him more.

"Miranda… where are you taking me?"

"Get in, Hoffa." She pointed at the deep abyss before them.

"It's too dark in there."

He pleaded in a low voice.

But Miranda had no patience for his hesitation. Without a word, she raised her foot and kicked him square in the chest.

Caught off guard, Hoffa tumbled backward into the darkness.

He reached out frantically, trying to grab onto something—anything—but there was nothing to hold.

With a loud thud, he hit the ground and rolled several times, his body battered and bruised.

Panic surged through him as he scrambled to his feet, using the wall for support.

Miranda landed lightly beside him, like a wild cat.

Then, with a soft click, she flicked open a metal lighter.

The blue flame illuminated the pitch-black passageway, casting eerie shadows across the markings on her face, making them look even more mysterious.

She grabbed Hoffa's wrist without hesitation and pulled him forward into the tunnel.

A deep sense of foreboding gnawed at Hoffa's mind.

Something was waiting at the end of this passage—he could feel it in his bones.

But his mind refused to remember what it was. Every cell in his body seemed to rebel against the resurfacing memory, sending waves of pain through him.

"No… No, Miranda… I want to go back."

His voice trembled. "Please, let me go back."

He clung to the cracks in the wall, desperately trying to stop himself.

But the pain made his fingers go numb, and Miranda had become unrelenting. Ever since they arrived here, she had been resolute—unstoppable. She pressed forward without hesitation, dragging him deeper into the tunnel.

(End of Chapter)

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