CHAPTER 45

On a crisp winter morning, the snow had stopped, leaving a soft white blanket across the landscape. The sky above stretched wide and blue, pure and cold. As Adrian Blackwood opened the window slightly, a biting chill swept into the room. Though the snow appeared pristine, undisturbed by footprints or broom trails, its silence offered no real comfort—sometimes, heavy snow simply buried the signs of danger more effectively.

Downstairs, Morgan Le Fay Blackwood was preparing breakfast as usual, though today the usual aroma of fried ham, eggs, and warm toast failed to lift the family's spirits. The house was too quiet. Something unspoken lingered in the air.

When Owen Blackwood finally addressed everyone at the table with the day's arrangements, the fragile calm shattered. Morgan Le Fay set down her fork and broke her silence. "No, Owen. I'm staying. My magic is not weak, and I'm more than capable with a wand. I can face whatever comes with you."

"Dad, I think Mum's right," Daisy interjected, her brown eyes flashing. "Healers can be vital in a fight. You know how often I patched people up at Hogwarts. I'm not hiding away while the rest of you face Merlin-knows-what."

The tension thickened. A quarrel loomed—part worry, part love, part pride. Not wanting Emily to witness another adult dispute, Adrian quietly filled two plates with food, poured a pot of tea, and nudged his little sister away from the table.

"Come on, Em. Let's go eat in your room," he said gently.

Emily took her plate without protest, her small face shadowed with sadness. "Adrian, why are Mum and Dad fighting?"

He crouched beside her, speaking with the calm of someone far older than his twelve years. "Because something important's about to happen, and it means we might have to separate for a while. But arguments don't mean they don't love each other—sometimes it's because they do."

Emily's eyes welled slightly. "Are we going to be separated too?"

Adrian placed a hand on her shoulder. "No. I'll be with you the whole time."

When the voices downstairs finally calmed, Adrian brought their neatly packed luggage to the sitting room. Under escort, he and Emily were to be sent to Aunt Josephine's house using Floo Powder. Adrian knew full well how delicate this process was—especially for someone Emily's age. A single mispronunciation could land her in Knockturn Alley or worse.

Floo Powder, invented by Ignatia Wildsmith in the 13th century, was tightly controlled. In the UK, it was manufactured exclusively by Floo-Pow Ltd., headquartered somewhere along Diagon Alley—though the exact location of their premises remained a closely guarded secret. Despite being in use for centuries, no shortage of Floo Powder had ever been reported. Its price had stayed stable at two Sickles a scoop for over a hundred years.

Every wizarding household kept a stash in a small ceramic jar or carved wooden bowl on the mantel. Attempts at home-brewing the magical powder were notoriously dangerous. At least once a year, Morgan Le Fay treated burns and hex-blasted limbs at St Mungo's from witches or wizards who used "pseudo-Floo." As Healer Rutherford Polk had ranted in the Prophet last year: "Two Sickles. That's it. Don't toss powdered Re'em horn or basilisk fang dust into your fireplace and expect to survive. The next one who blows their chimney off—I swear I won't heal them!"

Owen knelt as he gave Adrian and Emily one last embrace before their departure. Though calm in appearance, he held them tightly, unwilling to show how reluctant he was to let go.

"We'll follow the original plan," Owen said finally. "Adrian, take care of your sister."

Adrian nodded solemnly. "I will, Dad."

With that, Owen stepped back as Adrian gently guided Emily into the hearth. Her tiny hand clutched the jar of powder tightly.

"Remember," Adrian whispered, "when you speak, be very clear. It's 'Number Twelve, Radbourne Lane.' Got it?"

Emily nodded nervously.

A flash of green flame whisked her away, and Adrian followed moments later.

Aunt Josephine greeted them at the other end with a surprising softness. A Senior Magical Beast Regulator in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she was often described in the Prophet as "unflinchingly strict." Rumor had it her influence had helped her son Renn fast-track his internship through Ministry bureaucracy.

She looked much younger than her true age, her pale skin almost translucent under her sharp blue eyes. She wore a deep plum-colored dress beneath a sleek black travel cloak with enchanted tassels. Her wide-brimmed witch's hat was adorned with dark purple velvet flowers that trembled when she turned her head.

"Oh, my little sweet bear is still so cute," she cooed, scooping Emily up and brushing her cheeks with kisses.

Emily looked to Adrian with wide, unsure eyes. But Adrian smiled and nodded encouragingly. At that, Emily gave a tiny smile and tucked her chin against their aunt's shoulder, ready to begin this temporary stay.

"Adrian, have you had breakfast?" Aunt Josephine asked, glancing at him with a mixture of practicality and warmth.

Upon receiving a polite confirmation, she nodded and guided Adrian and Emily to set down their luggage.

They had arrived at what was clearly an old, somewhat declining manor—probably a family inheritance passed down through several generations of pure-bloods. Josephine led them out of the drawing room, where the fireplace still glowed faintly with green Floo flames, and into the main hallway. It was a long, dim corridor with multiple branching paths and staircases leading in various directions.

They took a fork leading to an upward spiraling stairwell, each wooden step creaking underfoot. The corridor on the upper floor stretched long, lined on both sides with closed doors—most of them locked. The stone walls were adorned with paintings—many were misty, strange landscapes with unsettling tones, but most were portraiture.

The figures in the paintings were dressed in elaborate 18th- and 19th-century wizarding fashions: heavy velvet robes, jewel-toned satin, laced cravats, and feathered hats. Adrian walked slowly, scanning their expressions. The eyes of the painted figures followed him and Emily with eerie attentiveness.

Then he noticed something odd. Unlike the Hogwarts portraits, where subjects cheerfully gossiped, dozed, or darted between frames, these ones remained silent. Their stillness was not out of politeness—but watchfulness. It unsettled even Adrian, who had faced cursed zombies in Knockturn Alley and trials from Rowena Ravenclaw's enchanted relics. Emily instinctively drew closer to her brother, her small hand finding his cloak sleeve.

They finally reached a large wooden door with an ornately carved frame. In its center was a portrait of a little girl in a red dress embroidered with golden and silver silk flowers. In her hands, she gently cradled a deep green toad, its amber eyes blinking with uncanny intelligence.

To Adrian's surprise, Aunt Josephine gave a respectful curtsy to the painting. "Miss Clark," she said softly, "these two children will be staying here for a few nights. I hope you'll grant them your protection."

The toad blinked, then hopped out of the girl's lap and off the canvas. The girl gave a slight nod and stepped out of the frame a moment later.

"Thank you," Josephine said, and gently pushed the door open. The large door moved slowly, releasing the scent of old wood and a hint of lavender polish.

The room revealed was a spacious bedroom decorated in the traditional Gothic style. Embroidered hangings lined the walls, and richly textured oak furniture filled the space. A stained-glass window composed of multicolored panes overlooked a snow-covered wilderness. Everything shimmered in soft winter light.

A grand bed sat beneath an aged mural whose images had partially faded over time. Yet even in its blur, the mural's presence felt oddly potent—like something watching in silence.

"Don't worry," Aunt Josephine said, noting their cautious glances. "It might look a little eerie, but this room is safe. Miss Clark has looked after it for decades."

Adrian gave a short bow and lifted his suitcase. "Thank you, Aunt. Don't worry—I'll take good care of Emily."

"Very well. Have a rest for now. I'll call you when lunch is ready. If you get bored, the library is next door—Miss Clark enjoyed reading as a child, so it's filled with children's books." Josephine patted Emily's head once more before taking her leave.

Adrian began unpacking methodically, hanging their cloaks and jumpers neatly inside the oak wardrobe, though his mind was already drifting. If only I were an adult, he thought, I could go looking for Albert myself without restrictions.

After organizing the room, Adrian noted that there was little in the way of toys or diversions for Emily. Remembering the library, he took her next door to the room Aunt Josephine had mentioned. The moment they stepped in, Adrian could tell it had recently been cleaned with a few well-placed Scourgify and Tergeo charms. The air smelled faintly of thyme and book parchment.

The books were neatly arranged across shelves—some enchanted to reorder themselves. Emily immediately brightened, settling in front of a short bookshelf where the children's collection was stored. She began pulling out colorful fairy tale books, stacking them gleefully into towers like building blocks.

Adrian watched her with quiet fondness as the stacks grew taller and more unstable. Eventually, as she placed a particularly thick book atop the pile—The Adventures of the Singing Mandrake—the tower tipped, and the whole thing collapsed with a clatter. Adrian had already moved in, sweeping Emily up into his arms before the books hit. He twirled her around in a circle, making her giggle, until his foot accidentally nudged the low bookcase.

The shelf tilted, thudding back against the wall. But as it shifted, it revealed something hidden—a gap in the old tapestry behind it. Adrian gently lifted the hanging cloth and discovered a narrow, shadowed passage behind the wall. Cold air drifted from within.

He recognized it instantly for what it was: a concealed staircase tunnel, typical in older wizarding manors—used in times of siege, to smuggle family members or treasures to safety.

But Adrian couldn't investigate, not while Emily was awake and by his side.

Later, after a hearty lunch of buttered potatoes, stewed venison, and treacle tart, Emily grew sleepy and curled up in the large bed under the warm quilts. As her breathing deepened, Adrian quietly slipped out and approached Aunt Josephine, who was in the sitting room reading a Daily Prophet report about recent magical creature disturbances near the Welsh border.

"Aunt, could you keep an eye on Emily for a bit?" Adrian asked casually. "I want to spend some time reading alone in the library. There's a book on historical magical architecture that caught my eye."

Josephine gave a nod without question. "Of course. Miss Clark will alert me if she stirs."

With that reassurance, Adrian returned to the library—only this time, not to read, but to explore the shadowed stairway hidden behind the tapestry. His heart beat fast. The time to uncover new secrets had come.