Journey Home

Lost Soul

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 07/12/2010
Last Updated: 28/02/2011
Status: in_progress

Hermione and Ron embark on a journey to find Harry after he went mysteriously missing a year ago. While they try to uncover the conspiracy behind Harry's disappearance, a dark force rises to claim the emptiness left by Voldemort.

Chapters

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own them but I sure do love 'em.

Act I: Journey Home

Chapter 1

To keep a long story short, the world, the wizarding world at least, did not change very much after the defeat of Lord Voldemort. Well, the world didn't change that much to Hermione Granger. The months following Voldemort's death were filled with extravagant parties, especially at Hogwarts. However, after the summer passed, life continued and people moved on, and so did she.

Despite missing the majority of the school year, Hermione graduated and managed pass her N.E.W.T.s with “Outstanding” marks, something rarely achieved. After leaving Hogwarts, she was given a position at the Ministry of Magic. She accepted a job at the Misuses of Muggle Artefacts Office as Arthur Weasley's assistant due to her experience and knowledge of the muggle world, even though it was awkward for the obvious reasons.

Not everyone adjusted properly to the quiet life unfortunately. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, her best friend, and hero of the wizard world, was one of those people. Harry applied for the Auror apprenticeship like Ron Weasley and the other graduates, and was immediately accepted into the program. Life seemed to return to normal for Harry, but something had changed after the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione knew he didn't miss the spotlight; on the contrary, he loathed it.

After he started his training, he grew incredibly distant and pushed everyone away. He even pushed Ginny Weasley away, which caused her to break off their relationship. Harry didn't appear to care and just kept working. Hermione attempted to reconnect with her best friend, but she could never get a hold of him. He refused to answer her owls, and he was never at the Ministry, despite the fact that Kingsley Shacklebot was his mentor.

Before finishing his Auror apprenticeship, Harry resigned from the program and left London without notice. Hermione wanted to pursue him so she could convince him to stay. However, Harry was already missing by the time she learned about his resignation. Hermione Granger, the smartest girl around, failed to keep another relationship together.

* * * * *

“Hermione,” Arthur called out from his office, waking Hermione from her daydream. She rubbed her eyes and looked down at the Daily Prophet that was on her lap. The front-page article was laid out. The article was about Ron's training and his promotion to Auror a month ago. She continued to scan the paper, and her stomach churned when she noticed a small quip about Harry. The writer expressed disgust for Harry and claimed that their hero suffered a mental breakdown that resulted in his disappearance a year ago. It was lie. It had to be. Then she heard Arthur call out for her again.

“Coming, sir,” Hermione replied as she placed the newspaper on her cluttered desk. “What is it?” She opened the partially opened door to Arthur's office, but remained in the doorway.

“What is this?” Arthur lifted up a small electric device in the air, meeting his assistant's eyes. She looked at it and then at her boss. Even though Arthur was one of the smartest wizards she knew, he still didn't know everything. Then again, neither did she.

“It's an electric razor, Mr. Weasley,” Hermione answered him. Arthur brought it close to his face and pressed the small button near the bottom of the electric razor. It turned on. The old man with fire-red hair squealed and dropped the vibrating razor. It landed hard on his wooden desk and began to move across it.

“I've seen some crazy things in my life,” Arthur said, mostly to himself. “But this thing is certainly intriguing. It's supposed to shave a muggle man's face, correct?” He lowered his head to the desk and watched the razor travel along his desk. It was excruciating painful to watch and Hermione had to act to make it stop. The soft pounding of the razor against the wooden desk was unpleasant and irritating. Before the razor reached the edge of the desk, Hermione picked up the electronic device and turned it off.

“Is that all, sir?” Hermione asked with her eyebrow raised, and she wasn't trying to hide her annoyance and frustration. He looked up at her with the demeanor of a child and nodded. Arthur rarely acted like a grown man whenever he found a new toy. He was more like a child on Christmas day when he examined muggle “artefacts.” Hermione sighed and returned to her desk. She picked up the Daily Prophet and tossed it in the trashcan next to her.

* * * * *

Hermione found it difficult to open the door of her flat. Whenever it was cold and rained like this, the iron hinges always refused to budge. She pulled out her wand, looked up and down the hallway, and used a little magic to force the door open. When she entered her apartment, she saw a small owl perched at her window, tapping on the window with his beak.

It was Pigwidgeon and looked as wet and miserable as she did. She carefully lifted up the window seal to let the wet owl in. He shook his small wings to alleviate his body from the cold rainwater. Hermione smiled and took the small scroll that was tied to his leg. She used her wand as a light source and rolled open the small parchment:

Hermione,

We need to talk.

Ron

Hermione half smiled and softly stroked the top of Pig's head. The small owl hooted cheerfully and flew out the window. She watched him take flight, wishing she were the owl, and closed the window. Maybe the world had changed after all.

* * * * *

The Ministry seemed different when Hermione arrived the following day. The atmosphere had drastically changed from yesterday and it put her on edge. Everyone appeared to be walking with certain urgency. She then noticed Neville Longbottom walking across the circular lobby, passing the giant statue of Albus Dumbledore. He was fully dressed in his Auror robes. Her friend had grown quite a bit since their time at Hogwarts. Even though he still seemed out of place in her eyes, she couldn't help herself and admire the way he carried himself.

“Longbottom,” Hermione shouted from across the lobby. Neville stopped immediately and looked around for the voice that called out to him frantically. Hermione smiled when all the poise and powerful demeanor that Neville displayed had melted away. In the end, he was still the boy she grew up with. She ran over to Neville and hugged him, despite his protests.

“Hey, Hermione,” Neville muttered. He was sweating.

“Hello, Neville.” With the pleasantries over, Hermione decided to take control of the conversation. “What's going on?” Neville didn't answer however. Instead, he looked around and searched the crowd for someone that wasn't there.

“Come with me,” Neville grabbed her arm and dragged her with him.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, trying to keep up with her friend's long strides.

“No time to explain,” he responded without turning to her. They walked up to a large iron door and Neville pulled out his wand. He tapped the knob of the door and it turned. The bolt of the door's lock clicked and Neville pulled it open. Hermione walked in first with Neville behind her.

Then she realized where she was: the Auror meeting room. It was a strange thing to see. The room was almost as big as the lobby near the main entrance. There were two circuits of tables and chairs. The inside row was occupied by Minister Shacklebot and other Ministry officials, including veteran and seasoned Aurors. The outside row was relatively empty except for a few Aurors, none of whom she knew. Most of the younger members were out on missions. Neville nodded to Hermione and led her to a seat along the second circuit.

“What's going on?” whispered Hermione.

“The world's coming to an end,” a voice came from behind them, causing Hermione to jump. She turned around and saw it was Ron. He was dressed in robes that were similar to Neville's, but it was obvious he didn't care as much about his attire. His robes were muddy, probably picked up from his training, but that meant he hadn't washed them lately. However, that wasn't his only problem, or the real one. Ron took a seat next to Hermione and scooted the chair closer to her.

“How are you doing?” Ron asked her. Hermione wasn't in the mood and didn't want to talk to him, but she knew she had to.

“Fine,” responded Hermione. One word. It was the easiest way to answer his question without giving any details.

“That's it? `Fine.'” He pressed. “We haven't spoken for over half a year and that's call you can say to me?”

“What is there left to say?” Hermione hissed. Neville looked at both with a serious expression on his face and they immediately stopped bickering.

“This isn't a joke,” said Neville. Hermione felt her heart sink; she allowed her personal feelings to get in the way again.

“I know, I'm sorry,” she apologized. She leaned in towards Neville, not to only hear him better, but to also create a bigger gap between her and Ron.

“No, not that. I mean, Ron shouldn't be joking about this,” Neville muttered.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Okay. The truth is: we're in trouble,” Ron replied for Neville. She turned to him, but didn't say anything. However, Hermione didn't say anything when she looked at him, she wasn't looking into the eyes of a jerk, but into the eyes of an Auror.

“How are we in trouble?” Hermione was being completely sincere.

“We just received reports about an attack in Annan, Scotland.” Neville whispered, he tried to keep his composure, but he couldn't hide the slight vibrato in his voice. She looked at Ron for agreement and he nodded.

“An attack that involved magic?” It was obvious, but she had to be sure. There have been no reports of a magical attack since the death of Lord Voldemort, but that didn't mean they didn't happen. It had been a relatively quiet year for the Aurors.

“Five dead, four of them muggles.” Neville's face was now pale and there was no hiding his fear. It wasn't same kind of fear that Neville once possessed when it came to taking tests. It was real fear in his eyes.

“There was nothing in the Prophet,” if was recent, she would have read about it, let alone hear about it from Arthur.

“It's because we want everyone to think it was a random accident.” Ron was the first to answer.

“Why? That doesn't make any sense,” said Hermione.

“Look,” Neville grabbed her attention. “The Ministry wants to keep a lid on this for now. Under the circumstances, we don't want to start a panic when there doesn't need to be one. So, we're attributing the deaths to a random accident.”

“What kind of random accident?” They didn't answer her immediately. She stared at Neville and ten looked at Ron. Neither of them refused to meet her eyes. “What kind of random accident?”

“Look, I don't like it anymore than you do,” Ron tried to defend the Ministry.

“Tell me the truth,” Hermione wasn't going to listen to any of it. She had enough of the cloak and dagger nonsense. It was the world of Aurors and she didn't want any real part of it.

“A bridge collapsed,” Ron muttered.

“A muggle witness claimed to have seen two men fighting with `sticks.' One of the men was the victim and the other was wearing a white mask.” Neville gave her the straight answer that she wanted. “She said that there was a bright flash of light and part of bridge was gone.”

“A white mask?” Hermione felt her stomach churn and the small hairs of the back of her neck rose. “Like Death Eaters?” Ron shook his head, a small wave of relief washed over her.

“We think it's a new group,” Neville took away the safety net that she landed on.

“And that's all we know,” replied Ron before she could probe for more answers. Before anything else could be said, Hermione quickly left the room. She ran for the bathrooms, pushing and shoving anyone that got in her way. When she got into the bathroom, she pulled out her wand. With a flick of her wand, the stall doors opened instantly, revealing no one was in them. She turned around to face the door and locked it with a swish.

“Harry,” Hermione muttered as she collapsed against the locked door. She wasn't exactly crying, but tears rolled down her face. Maybe she was having her own mental breakdown. She missed Hogwarts, she missed her parents, and she missed her best friend. The young witch longed for her time at Hogwarts. She pulled out a small brag book from her purse and flipped through the pictures of her family and friends. Life wasn't so simple and innocent anymore.

Hermione stopped on a picture of Harry and her at a party in the Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts. It was kind of a funny. The night before was one of the worst nights of her life, yet she was having such fun in the picture. It was one of the few magical pictures she had. The picture displayed Harry and Hermione hugging each other tightly, swaying from side to side. It was as if they were dancing.

* * * * *

“Harry, stop moving, you're going to make me sick,” Hermione giggled. Her face was flustered; her speech was slurred; and her dress was disheveled. Harry, on the other hand, was still relatively sober, except his suit was in no better condition. They noticed the photographer standing in front of him and quickly smiled for the picture. Harry soon released her after the photographer walked away.

“Lets sit down,” Harry smiled and led his drunk friend to an unoccupied couch. He sat down first and she fell onto him, snuggling against his shoulder. She was slightly drooling but Harry didn't care. However, he didn't attempt to hide his amusement neither.

“Oh, I should take a picture right about now, it'd be beautiful,” Hermione instantly sat up, making sure there was no one around with a camera.

“Oh, don't joke like that.” She resumed her original position on the couch. Ron walked over to them and sat next to Harry. Even though he retained the majority of his motor functions, he, too, was drunk. He sat up to check on Hermione and then fell back into the couch.

“What a party,” Ron shouted. The young wizard wasn't speaking to anyone directly, but the students around them cheered in unison and took a swig of their respective drinks.

“You okay?” Harry joked. Ron nodded and got off the couch.

“I'll be right back,” Ron smiled and walked off. Harry watched him for a moment and realized he wouldn't be coming back for a while. Ron was now walking in a circle.

“I'm sorry,” Harry muttered to himself.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked. She was half asleep.

“Oh, nothing,” replied Harry.

“No, what are you sorry for?” Hermione was still resting against him, but she was now awake and was sobering up. Harry didn't respond to her question but tightened his arm that was wrapped around her.

* * * * *

Hermione stared deeply into the bathroom mirror. She always wondered what Harry meant by that and regretted her lack of confidence to push the subject. Maybe if she had asked him, she might have been able to stop the deterioration of their friendship. She leaned closer to the mirror and wiped the smeared eyeliner with a wet towel. The young witch then picked up her wand from the sink counter and applied a light layer of make up on her face. After gathering herself belongings, she opened the bathroom door.

Standing on the other side of the doorway were Ron and Neville. It was apparent that they had followed her, but neither dared to open the door. Nor could they since they feared she put a hex on the knob, and they were right. Despite their fear, she was touched by their concern.

“I'm fine, you guys,” said Hermione.

“Are you sure?” Neville wasn't convinced, but he didn't press her any further.

“The bloody hell you are,” Ron on the other hand was rash and abrasive. Not a befitting quality she was fond of when they were together.

“Look, I'm sorry,” Hermione searched her mind for a response. Then it hit her. It was a solution to all of her problems, and theirs. “I'm leaving.”

“What?” they asked together.

“I'm going to look for Harry Potter.” She froze. Did she just say that out loud? There was a moment of complete silence between the three of them.

“Harry?” Neville was the first to speak.

“Yes,” Hermione replied reluctantly. “I'm going to look for Harry.”

“Neville, I think you should go,” said Ron. Before Neville could respond, Ron pushed him out of the way and forced Hermione back into the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” asked Hermione.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Ron began to pace back and forth, his hands on his hips, as he tried to figure out his next move. He hadn't heard that name for almost a year. Harry, his best friend, had disappeared without a word and left him to take the reigns.

Ron was heavily scrutinized after Harry went on the lamb. People didn't only question Ron about Harry, but wondered about his abilities as a potential Auror. Ron even wondered if he had what it took to become an Auror. Was he riding of the coattails of success that Harry left behind him? No. No he wasn't. Ron was a good wizard, if not a great one. At least, that's what he told himself after he passed his training. Despite the fact it took him longer to finish his apprenticeship than the others, he was even beat out by Neville, he became an Auror. He was worth something.

“I'm coming with you,” were the next words to come out of Ron's mouth. He stopped moving and waited for Hermione to respond. She was just standing there. A mixture of shock and confusion was on her face. “What?”

“You're coming with me?” That's all she could say.

“What? Do I hear an echo in here?” His response wasn't any better.

“First, you question my decision,” Hermione was the first to figure out what she wanted to say. “And now you want to come with me?”

“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” asked Ron.

“A little bit. I do.” Hermione was being completely honest and Ron knew it.

“Look, you're going to need help looking for Harry.” Ron was right. “And I just might know where he is.”

“Where?”

“Meet me at King's Cross in a few hours,” said Ron and left the bathroom quickly. Hermione was at a lost for words.

* * * * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the story so far. I'm sorry if there's any confusion at the moment, but a lot of the plot holes will be addressed in later chapters. Please review and thank you again for reading!

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2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione stood in front of the main entrance to King's Cross train station, tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete sidewalk. Ron was late and she was not happy. Not wanting to wait around in the cold, Hermione turned around and entered the train station. The train station was relatively busy for lunch, but that didn't surprise her. She could tell people were getting ready for the holidays.

There was an empty bench next to the doors and she decided to read the most recent issue of the Daily Prophet. Before opening the newspaper, she took a moment to look around the station. It had changed significantly over the past few years. Several walls were covered with cheap plywood and plastic sheets. The city was renovating the entire place. Hermione was overcome with a strong feeling of nostalgia as she watched her childhood disappear in front of her eyes.

“Hi,” Ron greeted her as he entered the train station. Hermione looked up at him, shoved the paper back into her bag, and didn't bother with the pleasantries. He was late and she wasn't happy. She didn't want to bother with the “heys” and hellos.”

“Well?” Hermione asked. Ron rolled his eyes and started walking towards the south side of the station. They passed several platforms before reaching the end of King's Cross. In the back of the station was a small hallway that led to a dead end.

“Are you going to stay mad at me forever?” Ron muttered.

“I don't know,” Hermione replied. “Are you going to be a jerk forever?”

“I don't even know how to respond to that,” Ron growled. He stopped when they reached the end of the hallway. Hermione was confused at first because the wall was made of brick while the rest of the walls were composed of tile and plaster. Ron looked behind them to make sure no one was watching before he made his move. The Auror pulled out his concealed wand from his overcoat and touched the brick wall. It began to collapse on itself and opened up a secret hallway behind the wall. It made her think of the entrance of Diagon Alley.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione admitted. “Maybe I've been a little of a jerk myself.” She followed him down the bricked passage. The decorations on the walls brought a bright smile to her face. It reminded her of Hogwarts. There were paintings of different witches and wizards hung along the hallway. Each of them would wink, smile, and even wave at her when she walked by. It was as if they knew her and they were reuniting with her after being apart for so long.

“Oh, a little?” Ron laughed as they headed down a flight of stairs. He wasn't being mean; she could hear the playful tone in his voice. When they reached the end of the hallway, she froze in the archway. The sight of the underground train station stunned her. She couldn't believe that such a thing existed under King's Cross.

“The train's leaving,” Ron shouted as he ran for a black train that was starting to move. Hermione screamed, out of anger and excitement, as she chased after the both of them. The Auror was the first to make it onto the train as it began to pick up speed. He spun around and held out his hand. She grabbed it quickly and jumped on when the train's horn blared as it left the station platform.

* * * * *

“We need to find a seat.” Hermione made her way down the aisle of the train car. The seats were filled with a variety of witches and wizards from different worlds than her own. A few of them were dressed in their wizardry robes, while others resembled the everyday muggle. And a couple of them, well, they weren't wearing much at all. It was a weird but interesting thing to see, the full train car, not the two wizards in loin clothes.

The seats were not the only things that were occupied. She had to make a conscious effort not to step on anything valuable that lay about on the floor. At the end of the train car, she found a pair of empty seats. Hermione took the one along the aisle while Ron sat next to the window.

“Want some?” Ron asked and took out a thermal from his bag. He pulled out his wand and pressed the tip of it against the bottom of the thermal. Steam began to rise from the opened thermal as he heated up the tea.

“No thanks.” said Hermione as she pretended to peruse her bag.

“I may have lied, a little,” Ron muttered. He took a sip from his tea and hissed when the hot liquid burned his tongue. Hermione would have scolded him for doing such a stupid thing, but what he said grabbed her attention. She looked at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. He pretended something outside was more interesting.

“Lied? Lied about what, exactly?” Even though the thrill of going on another adventure had filled her up, it didn't mean her ears stopped working.

“Well, I don't know where Harry is,” Ron smiled softly. However, his smile wouldn't get him out of this one, it rarely did.

“You don't know what?” Hermione shouted, drawing the attention of almost everyone in the train. Everyone went quiet for a second, hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Was I talking to you?” She turned around in her seat and glared at them. The witches and wizards tried to avoid her gaze and started talking amongst themselves.

“Look, I don't know where he is.” Ron explained himself. Hermione immediately raised her index finger into the air in front of his face, silencing him. His eyes went cross-eyed as he focused in on that singular point.

“Then why are we on this train, Ronald?” He recognized the angry tone in her voice.

“We're going to meet a contact of mine,” Ron said as he noticed Hermione was beginning to pull out her respective wand. She hesitated and squinted, trying to read him.

“A contact?” She slowly put her wand back into her bag. Ron couldn't help but let out a deep breathe when he realized she was no longer on the offensive.

“Yes, his name is Logan,” replied Ron.

“Where's this Logan?” Hermione asked.

“He's at Province, we'll be there in a few hours,” he answered her. Satisfied with his response, Hermione returned to her bag and pulled out her crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet. She opened it up and began to scan the different stories the journalists reported. After a few minutes of reading, she gave up.

“And who is he?” Hermione needed to know more about this mysterious man.

“He's a friend of mine, well not a friend,” Ron thought out loud. “I've never met him actually.” Hermione almost smacked herself in the forehead but decided punching Ron was the better alternative. So she did. She formed a firm fist and punched him in the shoulder. Ron howled in pain, but no one paid him any attention. “Damn, Hermione. You punch like a bludger.”

“You've never met him?” Hermione hissed. “Then how can you trust him?”

“During my apprenticeship, we had to build contacts that we could later use when we became Aurors. Nine months ago, Logan contacted me by owl. We started a correspondence and then before you know it, he was one of my contacts.”

“You realize how stupid that sounds?” Hermione wanted to punch him again but she held back her rage, if only for a moment.

“Logan wrote to me about Harry. He saw him in Province.” Ron said quickly when he saw Hermione tightening her fist up again. However, when she heard this, her hand went limp.

“How did he know you and Harry are friends?”

“After we broke up, I needed someone to talk to. I needed to talk to Harry,” Ron began. Hermione's heart sunk when he mentioned their break, but she forced herself to continue listening. “So I sent an owl to all my contacts about his whereabouts. Maybe they had met with him by some coincidence.”

“And Logan said he met Harry?”

“No, there was no formal meeting. But I figured if we're going to start somewhere, it might as well be Province.” Then there was a long silence between them. The train car was filled with people talking and laughing, babies crying, and the sound of the wheels on the tracks below. It was peaceful.

“Ron?” Hermione decided to break the awkward silence between them. “I'm sorry.” That's all she could say. That's all she could think of to say, but she had to address the situation between them. It wasn't fair to Ron and it wasn't fair to her. The air needed to be cleared if they were going to work together again and they couldn't be at each other's throat if they were to find Harry.

“About what?” Ron asked. He wasn't picking up on her signals, he rarely did.

“I'm sorry about how things ended between us,” Hermione explained. She then saw Ron's face change as he digested her words. He swallowed hard and thought long about what he was going to say.

“I'm sorry too,” said Ron. “I didn't handle things well. I was so stressed about becoming an Auror that I was blinded to your problems.”

“But the way things happened, I wasn't very fair,” Hermione replied.

“It's okay, neither was I,” Ron took her hand into his. “The past is the past. I think the best thing for both of us is to move on.” He squeezed her hand gently and let it go. Hermione smiled softly and looked down at the newspaper on her lap. Even though she expected a shouting match to occur between the two of them, she was happy with the results. Then she thought about a certain someone.

“So, how's Ginny?” she asked. Ron jumped and almost dropped his thermal. But that didn't stop him from spilling his tea all over himself. Before he could pull out his wand, Hermione had hers out at the ready. With a flick of her want, the tea evaporated instantly. “Something on your mind?” She smiled and waited for a response.

“I'm guessing my father didn't tell you,” Ron replied. Hermione shook her head, a big smile still on her face. “She eloped with Dean Thomas two months ago!” He dropped his head in shame. Ron was obviously not happy with her decision to marry Dean, but he wasn't fond of her being single either because that meant she was still pining over Harry. He couldn't win.

“I mean, at least she's happy. It could be worse, she could be with Malfoy,” Hermione attempted to comfort him.

“She's pregnant!” Ron cried out. This time he got the attention of everyone in the train car. They all turned to look at him and Hermione.

“No, not me,” Hermione assured the crowd. “I mean we were together, but not anymore. He's talking about his little sister actually.” They all stared at her for a second and returned to their own business. She laughed, obviously fake, and gave Ron her full attention. “How? When?”

“How?” Ron cried again. “Do you want me to draw a picture for you?”

“No, that's okay, sorry.” Hermione laughed.

“She told mum a few weeks ago. I can't believe it…” Ron started to gag.

“Wait, she's only…” She tried to do the math, but even she was having problems due to the mental images.

“Nineteen! I know.” Ron shook his fists into the air. “She only graduated from Hogwarts over a year ago… a year ago…”

“Well, that's interesting.” She didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Hermione wanted to do nothing but laugh, but that wasn't the smart move right now. And she wanted to avoid exciting Ron into a frenzy.

“It's horrible,” he buried his face into his hands, she could barely understand him.

“At least you'll be an uncle.” Hermione tried to find the silver lining, and she found it. Ron lifted up his face, he face displaying the realization of this new fact.

“I'm going to be an uncle,” he muttered to himself, Ron was in complete awe. “I'm going to be an uncle!” This time he raised his arms into the air and cheered, but no one acknowledged his happiness. They only seemed to be interested in the drama.

“Are you okay?” Hermione chuckled. Ron nodded and sat back down, breathing heavily due to the rush of exciting. There was a sparkle in his eye, something she hadn't seen in a very long time.

“Yeah,” Ron smiled. “I'm good.” He turned his head towards window and noticed the train was approaching their destination.

* * * * *

Hermione exited the train station of Province first, with Ron clunking behind her. They stood a few feet outside of the double doors and engulfed the view of the small village before them. The best word to describe the town was: strange. It resembled Hogsmeade in architecture by varying degrees, but the popular was something different. Hermione couldn't help but notice the number of muggles walking around. They weren't witches and wizards dressed for work in the city, but actual muggles. And the muggles appeared completely unfazed by the amount of magic that occurred around them.

“Where are we, again? It's just… I feel so out of place,” Hermione wanted to be sure. It was like walking into a childhood book that her mother used to read to her at night.

“It's Province,” Ron assured her.

“How can you be sure? You've never been here before,” Hermione mentioned under her breath.

“You don't have to remind me,” Ron hung his head in defeat. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “Come on, it's time we go and meet Logan.” He led her down the busy street that went directly through the village. The small town seemed to congregate around this street. Ron pulled out a small piece of parchment from his bag and unrolled it. Before he could read it, Hermione pulled it out of his hands and read it for herself:

Ronald,

I'm glad to learn you're coming to Province, old friend. You can find me at the Owl Barn. It is small bar off the main street of the city. I'll be drinking butterbeer and reading an issue of The Quibbler. By the way, have you ever read this amazing newspaper? It has some very compelling articles.

Logan

Hermione halted when she finished reading the message. Ron stopped and turned around to hear what she had to say. He waited for the worst.

“Are you sure about Logan?” Hermione asked, not as bad as he expected.

“Yeah, why?” Ron responded.

“He reads The Quibbler,” Hermione argued.

“So. They've published some very interesting stories lately.” Hermione rolled her eyes and pushed the letter into Ron's chest. She continued walking down the street, ignoring his pleas of confidence. After a couple of blocks, they came up to a giant, wooden door with “OWL BARN” burned into it.

“Here we are,” Hermione muttered. Ron nodded and opened the door for them. The Owl Barn was exactly what the sign on door read. It was an owl barn, but had bar built along the wall and the rest of the empty space on the floor was filled with tables and chairs. Above them, several owls were perched on beams hanging above them. Despite the smell and lack of visual aesthetics, the Owl Barn had a strange charm to it.

“There he is,” Ron pointed out a man sitting in the back of the bar. He was dressed in a brown cloak that covered the majority of his body. A pint of butterbeer, which was half full with a bent straw, sat on the corner of the table. His feet were also up on the table, a pet peeve of Hermione's. However, she couldn't see his face since The Quibbler he was reading covered it. They carefully crossed the bar. Ron made sure to check out every person in the bar, a mixture of muggles and wizards. Hermione did the same, but kept most of her focus on Logan.

“Hello, Logan?” Ron stuck his hand out to shake. “I'm Ronald Weasley.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Logan said as he lowered The Quibbler. Ron and Hermione jumped back drawing their wands when they saw Logan's face. Instead of a face behind The Quibbler, they found a white mask with a black “V” painted across it.

* * * * *

A/N: Thank you for reading and a special thanks to those of you who left a review. It's a great feeling: knowing people like what I've written thus far. Since I'm also on break, I'll be updating this story within the following week. And again, thanks for reading!

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3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Hermione had her wand of dragon heartstring pointed at the man in the white mask. The Owl Barn went completely silent. Ron surveyed the barn and saw a variety of weapons pointed at him and Hermione, a few he'd never seen before. Some of them wielded wands while others carried guns and blunt objects of different shapes and sizes. Hermione ignored the cold sweat he was developing. So Ron slightly nudged her in the side to get her attention. The young witch turned her head and noticed the predicament they were now in.

“Whoa, whoa,” Logan shouted. His hands were up in the air, not as a sign of surrender, but to deescalate the situation. The bar patrons looked at Logan for guidance and then the old bartender, Martha, whom was standing behind the bar. A few of them settled down in their seats while others refused to let down their guard.

“Put yer wands down,” Martha shouted from across the barn. “Yer may have wands but they can't stop my buckshot.” Even though she was a muggle, Hermione was still very afraid of the shotgun she holding firmly in her hands.

“It's okay Martha,” Logan interrupted. Martha grimaced, but gave in and nodded to the other patrons. Ron and Hermione didn't feel any safer when they placed their respective weapons away. Then the duo turned their attention to the wizard wearing the mask, their wands still drawn. “You don't need those.”

“What's with the mask?” Hermione growled.

“Not yet,” said Logan. “First let us enjoy a pint of warm butterbeer. Please, sit. Don't make me suggest twice.” Hermione and Ron shared a look and took the chars opposite of the masked wizard. While Ron placed his wand into his pocket, Hermione kept hers out, under the table. Logan raised his hand, holding two fingers up.

“What is this place?” Ron asked, trying to figure anything out.

“It's the Owl Barn.” Logan answered. Martha walked over to the table holding a tray of two butterbeers. She placed them on the table without looking and walked away in a matter of seconds. Ron took the opportunity to drink the warm butterbeer, and since it was free: it was tastier. Hermione ignored the beverage and examined Logan.

“Why are you wearing that mask?” the young witch pushed. Hermione didn't care, she needed answers and she was going to get them.

“Didn't I say—” he began.

“Answer the question,” Hermione demanded. Logan paused and stared at her, or at least that's what she thought he was doing. The eyeholes of the mask were circular and the lighting in the barn created shadows that covered his eyes, but she could feel them on her, looking into her soul.

“First put away the wand,” Logan ordered in a serious tone. It a sent a cold shiver down Hermione's spine. Ron was too occupied with drinking his butterbeer to notice her discomfort. The young witch conceived to Logan's order and placed her wand into her bag. “That's better. And by the way, you never told me your name.”

“It's Hermione Granger.” She answered quickly.

“Herm-Own-Ninny?” Logan chuckled.

“Excuse me,” Hermione growled. She tried to stand up but Ron grabbed her shoulders to keep her back, almost knocking his pint over. The young witch shot him an angry glance and he let go of her immediately.

“I was just joking.” Logan laughed. “Please, settle down.” Hermione looked at him and then Ron. She took a deep breath to calm herself and sat back into the chair.

“Why are you wearing the mask?”

“I've spent the past few months infiltrating this organization known as the Vanguard,” said Logan. “I've been forced into wearing this stupid mask as apart of my initiation into the group.” He paused for a moment to pick his butterbeer. “Can't remove it either, they put a curse on it. Only they can take it off. When I pass their tests, the 'V' is to turn a light grey to symbolize my acceptance into the group. They're a very weird bunch if you ask me.” The masked wizard pressed the thumb and index finger of his right hand against the bottom of the mask. He pushed up, used leverage to create an opening, and guided the straw into his mouth with his left hand.

“Vanguard?” Ron had finished his butterbeer and was back in the conversation.

“The Aurors know about the attack in Scotland?” Hermione and Ron didn't respond. But Logan knew they were aware of the incident. “They're responsible for at least six attacks this year that I know of."

“I thought Scotland was the only one.”

“Oh, right. Just because it didn't happen in Britain means it didn't happen anywhere else?” Logan laughed and finished his beverage. “Look, the wizarding world doesn't end at the shores of the British Isles. I'm positive you two know that.” Then he stood up.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked.

“It's time to go,” Logan said and started walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Ron demanded.

“To a place with deaf ears,” he chimed. “Aren't you coming?” Hermione and Ron exchanged confused looks and chased after him. Before they reached the door Logan stopped and turned around. In that instant, he grabbed both their hands.

* * * * *

The forest was cold due to a new layer of snow that covered the ground. It was light and thin, but the cloud cover helped keep the temperature down. The cold crept silently through their bodies as they registered the winter weather. Hermione pulled out a scarf from her bag and wrapped it tightly around her neck and covered her ears while Ron relied on rubbing his arms and hands together to keep warm.

“Where are we?” Ron asked, his teeth chattering. His body was now shaking uncontrollably.

“I'll explain later. I can only answer so many questions at one time.” Logan responded as he pulled out a wool blanket out of his shoulder pack. He tossed to Ron to warm his body. Logan turned his back against them and started walking up the hill. Hermione and Ron were forced to follow. “The Vanguard may be new to Britain, but they're not to the rest of the wizarding world.”

“But why now?” Ron was now trying to blow warm air into his cupped hands.

“Because Voldemort is gone,” Hermione guessed.

“Exactly,” Logan smiled. At least Hermione imagined he was smiling by the tone in his voice. “With You-Know-Who out of the picture, it's time for a new bad guy to take the spot light in Britain.”

“Should we be afraid?” It was a dumb question and Ron was the only one to ask it.

“I don't know. Do you bleed?” Logan chuckled. “Of course. The Vanguard is composed of very dangerous and fanatical wizards and witches. They may not be as powerful as the Dark Lord, but they're more methodical and calculating.”

“I don't follow,” Ron muttered.

“I figured you wouldn't. Please Ronald, keep up. The Vanguard aren't about instilling fear or setting up puppet governments through coups. They prefer to be more stealth. They don't want to be seen or noticed. Members have been planted throughout the Ministry and even in offices of muggle governments. The members are also loyal and they don't have to rely on the Imperius Curse. A servant willing to die for the cause is much more dangerous.”

“Do you know how many members are there?” Hermione wondered.

“No. I've met a few, but I'd be lying if I said I knew.” He looked back at them, sharing their dissatisfaction with his answer. Logan paused for a brief moment and turned his head to the east. With a fist, he signaled them to stop. There was nothing. At least they couldn't see or hear anything except for the ambient sounds of the forest.

“You told Ron you saw Harry?” Hermione asked about her best friend. With the silence broken, they continued up the hill.

“Have you heard of Winter's Crest?” the masked wizard asked. Hermione glanced over at Ron, neither of them knew of the town. Ron just shrugged and Hermione shook her head, even though Logan couldn't see them. But their silence was a good enough response. “Well, that's where your friend, Harry Potter, was headed.” This time the look Hermione and Ron shared was one of happiness and excitement.

“Where is Winter's Crest?” Ron asked immediately.

“We're about a day's hike from the village, actually,” said Logan. “Unfortunately, the town is protected, so no apparating. And someone cast an invisibility charm over the damn thing too. So only those who've been there know where it is.”

“Does that mean you've been there before?”

“Duh. At least, I hope I remember.”

“Do you know if Harry's still there?” Hermione inquired.

“No idea. I haven't been there in months and I only saw Harry at Province.” Hermione felt colder after his response. She was afraid that this might be a wild goose chase, but she needed answers.

* * * * *

They decided to make camp in a small opening along the trees. It was already nighttime and according to Logan: they were a few hours' trek from the village. The fire they built was small but it gave off enough heat to warm their bodies. Logan was trying to drink from a flask, the contents of the small tin smelled like butterbeer, while Ron lay on the ground, half asleep and wrapped in the wool blanket.

Hermione couldn't bother with sleep; she was too cold to let her rest. Instead, spent the night trying to read the Daily Prophet. Her body was completely frozen from head to toe, but she wouldn't shiver. Her bones felt like they were made of glass. Her legs were numb from the layer of snow beneath the wool blanket. Her hands and arms were like goose skin but the small fire kept them relatively warm. Steam slowly rose from her mouth as she breathed out.

“It's not as good as The Quibbler,” Logan said as he managed to get the opening of the flask under the mask. Hermione lifted her head from the newspaper with an eyebrow cocked, but didn't answer him. She merely watched the masked wizard struggle with the flask in vain. "The Quibbler at least has something interesting to say." The young witch looked back down at the picture she was hiding with the Daily Prophet. It was the same picture of her and Harry swaying at the party.

“Why did you join the Vanguard?” Hermione asked.

“If I wasn't going to do it, who would?” He responded. “What? You think I joined them because I wanted to? I may be a little crazy, but I'm not… stupid.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to question your motives,” she answered him.

“No,” Logan stopped her. “It's good to question. If you don't, you'll never learn anything. You can't solely rely on people telling you things, now can you?”

“What's it like, wearing the mask?” Hermione gestured with her hand by making circular motions around her face.

“It's not so bad. It smells after a while. And it's hard to eat… and to drink.”

“Oh. Um, so you actually saw Harry, right?” Hermione met his eyes, or at least the eyeholes in the mask. It was like staring into the darkness of night, engulfing everything and anything that looked into them.

“Yes,” he nodded. “He was at the Owl Barn when I saw him. He was talking with Martha about Winter's Crest.” There was a long silence between them.

“How was he?” Hermione wondered. “Was he all right? Did he look okay?”

“He looked fine to me.”

“That's good.” Hermione turned her attention back to the Daily Prophet. She carefully folded her the picture back into her pocket and pretended to read the front page. Even though her eyes were looking at the words printed on the newspaper, her mind wasn't registering them. All she could think about was Harry. She could only hope he was all right and safe.

"Do you know what the Vanguard is planning?" Hermione asked. Logan stared at her for a moment before answering.

"I have a question for your question," said the masked wizard. He dropped his flask into his pouch and lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Do you know why some pure-bloods hate Muggle-borns?" Hermione shook her head. She used to think about it when she was growing up in Hogwarts, but after a while, it faded out of her mind. The young witch had moved past the irrational hatred and embraced her parentage. Then Logan answered the question. "They're afraid of you, Hermione."

He smiled. Hermione could sense he was smiling.

"I don't understand and how did you know…" she responded.

"Please, I knew who you were when you walked into the Owl Barn. I'm very well versed in the wizarding community." He answered her. "My next question is: do you know the origins of magic?"

"No," said Hermione. "I never really thought about it."

"Well, neither do I, but that's what the Vanguard are trying to discover its origins. Besides that, I'm not entirely sure," replied Logan. "Magic is a wonderful phenomenon that we still don't fully understand."

"But what does that have to do with pure-bloods being scared of Muggle-borns?"

"You defy the 'natural' order of things, Hermione. Pure-bloods are born with magic because they are without Muggle ancestry and half-bloods are born with magic because they have a wizarding parent. So we can assume magic is passed down from parent to child. Then my next question is: where do Muggle-borns get their magical abilities?"

Hermione just sat there in silence. She often questioned her place in the wizarding world, but the origins of her magical abilities never really crossed her mind. Could one of her ancestors been a wizard or witch at some point, but somehow the inherent abilities never manifested until her? Or was it something else her mind couldn't grasp or comprehend? Hermione merely stared into the flickering flames of the dying fire. The light danced across her face and distorted the serious expression she wore.

“You should get some rest,” Logan interrupted her trance. Hermione looked back up at him.

“And what about you?” she asked.

“Well, someone has to keep an eye out,” the masked wizard stood up and stretched his arms and legs. “Besides, I don't sleep much. We'll talk about this later.” Hermione nodded and pulled out her own blanket from her bag. She placed the blanket on the snow-covered ground and used her bag as a pillow. The only thing she could picture in her mind was Harry before she lost herself to the night. With her eyes closed, sleep finally took her.

* * * * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. I'll be changing things up after this chapter. Each will be told in POV of a different character, primarily: Hermione, Ron, Logan, and Harry, at least until new characters are introduced. And again, thanks for reading!

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4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harry braced himself against the wall of the long and narrow hallway as it shook violently. Pieces of the stone fell around him and Logan from the ceiling and walls. The granite tiles shattered into dust when they landed on the floor. Random jets of light flew around the two wizards as they descended down the hallway. The spells exploded and crackled when they collided with the walls, creating bursts of heat and energy.

"Keep moving, Logan," Harry shouted over the load explosions, his ears ringing. He trailed a few strides behind Logan as they made their way through the chaos. The young wizard used his left arm to protect his face from the heat of the small explosions and swung his right aimlessly behind them as he casted spells with his wand. The darkness ate up the light that erupted from Harry's wand and then sent it back at him just as strong and twice as violent.

Harry's body was sweating heavily and the cotton linens he wore stuck to his body, slowing him down. His wool robes were tattered and torn at the fringes. The bottoms of his shoes were worn down to the sole. His brown cloak was covered with burns and patches were missing. Logan's condition didn't appear any better than his. The wizard's attire was similarly torn and charred, but Harry could also smell the burns and oil from Logan's shaggy hair and beard.

A spell made contact with a small column next to Harry. Stone, heat, and energy erupted when the spell touched the ancient granite, sending Harry into the wall opposite of the column. Logan turned around quickly to help him. He took Harry's wand from his bloody hands and muttered an incantation as he swung his arm vertically upward. The ground near Harry's feet shook violently after the spell was cast. Within seconds, the cobble stone floor broke apart and turned into small pieces of shrapnel and dust. The destruction rode down the hallway like a small tidal wave.

"C'mon," Logan demanded and gave Harry his wand back as he helped him onto his feet. Harry turned to survey the damage caused by Logan's spell, but he could barely see anything behind of him let alone the ruin caused by the spell. Logan tugged on Harry's collar to break the trance and to get him moving again.

When they reached the large atrium of the temple, Logan stopped at the opening and allowed Harry to run past him. "Run, Potter!" He shouted to his friend as he drew his own wand and faced the dark hallway. Harry immediately halted, a few steps from the staircase that led to the exit of the underground temple. He turned around too.

"I can't," Harry yelled back as he started to walk back to Logan. He wasn't going to leave his friend to fight them alone. Logan looked exhausted and was out of breath. The grizzled wizard wasn't going to last long alone against them and they both knew it. The hard truth was: even though Logan knew some obscure and random spells that were effective in combat, he wasn't a very good duellist.

"No. I'll hold them—" Before Logan could finish, a loud bang echoed through the large room as light from the hallway engulfed the darkness that was around them.

* * * * *

Harry stared out into the village through the ice-covered windows of the Snowflake Inn. Even though it was summer, it rarely stopped snowing at Winter's Crest. The small town lived up to its name and than some. Harry had relocated to the village a few months ago and everyday it snowed or rained or hailed or worse. Sometimes it was a light layer of snow, and other times it was close to being a full-blown blizzard. The young wizard was tired of the cold but he wasn't going to give up now.

After graduating from Hogwarts, Harry, Ron, and the other graduates were put into an accelerated apprenticeship and everything seemed to be going well after the first month. Then, under the orders of Shacklebot, Harry was sent to investigate a disturbance in the region. A few months prior to Harry's arrival, the use of magic had grown significantly and it caught the attention of the Ministry. While the Ministry did not see this as a potential threat, it wanted someone to check it out regardless. Thus, Harry was charged instead of a seasoned Auror. Even though he was still training, Shacklebot and the others were confident in Harry and believed that it was nothing serious. A mere visit would be sufficient. That's what they told Harry three months ago.

The room he stayed in was small, but it provided him with adequate space he needed to work. There was a tiny table and chair located in the far corner of the room next to the window he was standing at, while a bed of rags and blankets occupied the opposite corner. There used to be a mattress, but it smelled of urine and other unsavory things. And even though there was no mattress, it provided Harry the sleep he desperately required. But he slept very little regardless and the chilly air wasn't very helpful. The walls of the room were plastered with newspaper clippings, pictures, notes, and other various documents. Harry's investigation had evolved into something much bigger than perceived by the Ministry. However, a lot of it was mere conjecture and speculation and no one would take him seriously unless he had real evidence. Besides, Harry believed the Ministry had been infiltrated and was afraid his message to Shacklebot would be intercepted.

Thus the young wizard hadn't spoken to anyone outside of the village since he arrived. He barely talked to the inn's owner or his neighbors. It was better that way. Several owls had stopped by over the months with letters and messages from everyone, but he never answered them. He was amazed that the owls always found him and it was rare to receive an official message from the Ministry via aeroplane. A small mountain of letters and parcels had developed in the trashcan beside his table. Was this the life of an Auror on the road? Cut off and alone from friends, family, and the rest of the wizarding world?

Harry's trance was broken when an owl flew up to his room. It perched itself on the frozen edge of the window and started tapping its beak softly against the glass. Harry grimaced and forcefully opened the window before the owl could crack it. The owl hooted angrily when it was almost knocked off its perch. The bird had a small scroll tied to its leg, another letter Harry assumed. The wizard released the messenger of the scroll and let the window seal fall shut. The owl hooted again and flew away.

The letter was from Hermione and Harry read it quietly to himself:

Harry,

I hope you're doing well. We're all worried about you. None of us have heard from you in months. We need to know what's going on, I need to know. Please write back when you can.

Hermione

She had been writing him almost twice a week for the past month. Harry knew his best friend was only concerned about his wellbeing, but he didn't have time to answer her nor did he want to. He still wasn't sure about what he was getting himself into and endangering Hermione was the last thing he wanted. That's one of the reasons why he broke off his relationship, once again, with Ginny after the first month of his assignment. She also refused to look at the big picture and she always irrationally demanded too much from him.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered to the imaginary Hermione in the room as he dropped the scroll the trashcan with the others. He could hear her voice in his head, she was scolding him for being self-sacrificing and for not allowing others to help him, but he did have help. He sat down in his bed of rags and shuffled through them. Underneath the blankets, he found a small tin box. The young wizard pulled out his wand and pressed it against the lock. There was a click and the enchantment was broken, but only for a moment. Every time it closed, the jinx would reset; a trick he picked up during his training.

He carefully opened the metal container. Harry smiled when he looked down at the pictures and other items that were held in the small box. The pictures were of him and his friends over the years. His favorite was of him, Hermione, and Ron at the Quidditch World Cup they attended before his fourth year at Hogwarts. The picture behind it was one of him and Hermione, swaying back and forth at a Gryffindor party. The one after that was of him and Ron playing their last game of Wizard's Chess in the Great Hall. Underneath that picture was one of him and Weasleys; they were huddle together in front of the newly built Burrow. The last was one of Hermione, alone, sitting on a bench. She looked beautiful in the picture, she always did. Ever since the Yule Ball, Harry couldn't ignore her beauty. He missed those days, those days at Hogwarts and those days in between. Even though it was filled with dark times, he was still happy since he was with those closest to him. Now the wizarding world was a better place with Voldemort gone but he wasn't happy and he was alone. Life was kind of funny that way.

Then there was a loud knock at the door. Harry turned his body towards the door with his wand drawn on it. He quickly closed the box and hid it beneath his makeshift bed. After hiding the small tin, he slowly got up and approached the door. The faint light from the hallway could be seen peeking through the openings in the wooden door, but he could see the shadow of someone covering some of the cracks. "Who is it?"

"It's Logan," the wizard called out. "Let me in." Harry let out a silent sigh of relief and hid his wand behind his back when he opened the door.

"Where have you been?" Harry asked.

"I found it." Logan smiled as he walked into the room. Harry stepped aside, keeping his back and wand turned away from Logan. The bearded wizard had a similar build to Harry, but he was five years his senior and appeared to be much bigger due to the number of layers he was wearing. He had various robes on, ranging from cotton to wool, and even some furs. Despite the fact that Logan was from this area, he was never fond of the cold. "It's barely November and it already feels like winter." Logan shook the crusts of snow off his back and shoulders and took off the large fur coat, greatly reducing his size and girth. "I think I know why they're here."

"Is that the map?" Harry pointed at the cylindrical case tied to Logan's side. Logan lifted up his arm and undid the knot that attached it to his shoulder. He pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment as he walked towards the table. With a swoop of his free arm, Logan pushed everything off the table. He then unrolled the scroll and laid it open for them to read.

"Yes, it's a map of Winter's Crest," responded Logan. Harry walked over to the table. The map was extremely old and rugged. The parchment was made of pig's hide and had greatly deteriorated over the years. The corners and edges were fringed and weaves were becoming undone. The ink was barely visible, but he could still read it. However, the size of the town on the map concerned him. It was a map of Winter's Crest, that was easy enough, but the map depicted the village as the size of London if not bigger.

"How old is this map?" Harry said, leaning over.

"I'd say a few thousand years," Logan smiled. Harry stepped back and examined the grin on his friend's face. Despite how the ludicrous the statement was, Logan was always sincere and truthful, at least to him, or at least that's what Harry believed. "I found it buried near the old crypt in the cemetery."

"You what?" Harry scolded. "You went grave digging?"

"No, not really," the wizard defended. "I learned that the map was hidden somewhere in the cemetery. Honestly, who would go digging in a cemetery?"

"You would," Harry replied coolly.

"Besides me, of course. An ingenious plan if you ask me," Logan admired. "And your suspicions were correct. The village was a wizarding center back in the day, but I never thought Winter's Crest could be so huge. I mean, thousands of years ago, this place was bigger than the City." The City. Logan always referred to London, or anywhere else that was bigger than Province for that matter, as "The City." It annoyed Harry for some reason but it was always humbling as well. "But for some reason, the population migrated from the region and it shrank into what it is today."

"Okay," Harry said. "Lets take a look at this." He started to scan the map quickly, but diligently. His eyes darted from left to right of the parchment as his mind consumed the map.

"What are we looking for?" Logan asked as he dug out a small flask from his robes.

"Not sure," Harry muttered.

"I mean," Logan explained. "There's nothing out of the ordinary if you ask me." He took a large swig from his flask. Harry ignored his friend's commentary and continued to search the map. Then he noticed a strange marking on the map near the edge of the city. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching the parchment, to get a better read. Harry could smell the residue of the ink that once was there. It appeared someone had removed the ink from the pig's hide, but the impressions from the engravings were still there.

"This," Harry stated and pointed for Logan to see.

"What is it?" Logan wondered.

Harry grimaced. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But there's one way to find out."

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5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Ron was frozen stiff. This was probably the worst way to go. The cold had been slowly taking him since they apparated into forest yesterday and he could feel death was close behind. Sleep was a nice escape but it was merely a temporary remedy. Even though his mind didn't register the below-freezing temperatures of the forest as he slept, it didn't mean he wouldn't feel it in the morning. The Auror was having a nice dream too. Ron was in Egypt, or Australia, or somewhere warm, very warm, it didn't matter. There was definitely a beach too, the ocean breeze was cooling but not freezing and the waves looked magnificent as they crashed into the soft sand. And a beautiful woman, in a bikini, of course, was there as well. But it was all lie when he woke up. The warm sun, the beach, the beautiful woman in a bikini, all of it was a lie. The snow was his reality and the cold was his companion.

They moved silently through the forest as the sky reached twilight. To their right, the sun was starting to rise and the sky was burning red and orange. To their left, the sky was still black as midnight as night gave way to day. It was almost December and the days were getting shorter and shorter, beginning with a delayed sunrise followed by an early sunset. At least the new snow was already melting as the sun slowly rose. Ron had to find the bright side of the current situation, which wasn't very bright at all.

He had long stopped complaining about the lack of breakfast, but that didn't prevent his stomach from grumbling every few minutes. Hermione would shoot him angry glances every time his stomach made a noise, but even she gave up on him after the first hour. It looked like she was developing a cold herself. Hermione's nose was red and rubbed raw while mucus wouldn't stop running from her inflamed nostrils. Logan appeared to be enjoying himself on the other hand. He would hum an obscure song from time to time and often turned his head to check up on them as they weaved around the trees.

The masked wizard stopped instantly in his tracks and raised his hand into the air to signal them. Ron saw Hermione roll her eyes and he shared her frustration. This was the fifth time he'd stopped them. Every moment they halted their progression, it gave the cold a chance to build up and he feared it to a point of ridiculousness. He was being a coward, but he didn't care, it was bloody freezing.

Then his frozen ears twitched when he heard something beyond the trees. He could hear voices approaching them, but he couldn't tell from which direction. It was nerve racking and he was cursing himself for being craven. He was an Auror and he was behaving like a small child afraid of a pixie in his closet. Then again, when he was a child, there really was a pixie hiding in his closet thanks to Fred and George.

"Get behind a tree," Logan hissed. Before Hermione could react, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the nearest tree trunk. The masked wizard was standing only inches from her face and she couldn't help but blush due to the proximity of their faces. Ron didn't exactly follow his example unfortunately. Instead, he decided to dive for a fallen tree next to him. Snow flew up around him and the trunk shook when his body made contact with it.

He groaned in pain. Small twigs and branches made small cuts and scratches on his face. The snow beneath him almost made him numb instantaneously. And he feared the parts of his arms and legs that collided with the tree would develop bruises. The Auror carefully pulled out his wand from his overcoat and tried to control his breathing. Ron lied there, motionless, and waited for the faceless voices to come.

"What's going on?" he heard Hermione whisper as the voices approached them.

"It might be the Vanguard." Logan muttered.

"What?" Ron chimed in. "Why would they be out here? Are they looking for the village too?"

Logan slightly shrugged. "I might have forgotten to mention that."

"But why are we hiding?" Hermione questioned. "I'm sure we can take them. There's three of us and it sounds like there's only two of them."

"The problem is… I kind of lost my wand. And I can't risk blowing my cover, not yet." Logan explained.

"Are you serious?" Instead of answering her, he placed his left hand over her mouth, silencing her. She looked at him, perplexed, but he refused to give her notice. Ron followed suit and kept quiet. The Auror could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer to them. Somehow the faceless voices knew exactly where they were. His heart started to race and it felt like his chest was going to explode from anticipation. After a few minutes of waiting, two masked wizards walked between them.

"I hate this," the one closest to Ron said angrily. Ron was thankful they didn't notice him in the snow or see Hermione and Logan standing against the tree beside them. If he could see the two wizards, they'd certainly see them if they decided to turn around. The one that was complaining was short in stature, but round and full. His body was tightly wrapped in several layers of robes, which gave off the impression that he was waddling instead walking. His mask was barely visible under the hood of his cloak, but Ron could see that it was white like Logan's and had a faint grey "V" painted across it. "C'mon, Thomas, we should just leave. It's too cold."

"Stop, Jacob," Thomas spat. He wore a similar mask, but he was much taller and slender than his counterpart. The wizard was wearing only a few layers in comparison to Jacob and appeared to be more comfortable with the current weather conditions due to the black wool that grasped his body. Ron envied him, but only for that moment. "I'm tired of your complaining."

Ron then noticed Logan's right arm moving against Hermione's side. His hand grazed against her hip and appeared to be looking for something. What was he doing? Hermione almost squeaked but she held in her shock and discomfort. That was it; they were going to die. But then Logan quickly spun around with Hermione's wand in his hand. In the name of Merlin, that would have been awkward, but then again, what was he doing?

"Hey," Logan shouted with Hermione's wand at hand, so much for not engaging the Vanguard. As the wizards turned around to face him, light burst from the tip of the wand. A string of lightning jetted through the air and made contact with Jacob. The spell hit him in the shoulder and sent him into Thomas. Their bodies flew through the chilly air and collided into a nearby tree.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded. Logan didn't answer her. He silently shoved the wand into her hands and walked over to the incapacitated wizards. The masked wizard knelt beside them to check on their condition. Satisfied with the results, Logan searched for their wands.

"What did you do to them?" Ron asked as he brushed the snow out of his hair and off his robes. He'd never seen a spell like that before. There appeared to be no physical damage done to Jacob besides the bruising and bleeding from hitting Thomas and the tree. There wasn't even a mark from where the spell made contact with his shoulder.

"Don't worry. They'll only be out for a while," Logan responded. He picked up their wands and broke them in half against his knee. "This will stall them."

"Wait," Hermione shouted.

"What?" Logan turned to face her. "This is the best way to ensure our safety. Do you want them wandering around? Armed? They'll have to leave the forest now."

"You could have used one of their wands," she snapped.

"Ah," Logan looked down at the broken wands in his hand, dumbfounded. He shrugged his shoulders in the typical manner and threw the shattered wands into the forest. "We have to move fast. There might be others." Logan walked away from the fallen wizards and moved past Ron and Hermione. The Auror exchanged looks with Hermione and they quickly chased after him before he was lost to the forest.

"How did you lose your wand?" Ron questioned when they caught up with him. He and Hermione were a few steps behind him like usual.

Logan didn't respond at first. "That's a little hard to explain."

"How?" Hermione joined in.

"Well, I lost it in a battle," Logan seemed to be embarrassed. Ron didn't like it. Even though Logan was an informant, he wasn't sure if he could be trusted after all. It would be stupid to question his honesty now; Ron and Hermione had traveled all this way from London. And he wouldn't hear the end of it from Hermione. She often understood, when she wasn't angry, his methodology and quirks, but that didn't stop her from remembering the dumb things he had done in the past. This would be one to remember, another thing to add to her list of things she'd never forget to mention at dinners, at parties, and at other random events.

"Did you break it or did you physically lose it?" Ron asked. Hermione gave him the "dumb look." He recognized that expression all too well; he last saw it on the train to Province.

"A little of both," Logan sighed. He was being very evasive when it came to revealing the truth behind his wand's demise. Ron felt for him, but the Auror hid his silent empathy. He had been forced to use a broken wand during his second year at Hogwarts. Then again, it did save him as many times as it hurt him. He kept count, most of the time.

Hermione decided to move on from the subject. "Did you know those two wizards?"

"Whom?"

"Those two wizards. Uh… Thomas… and Jacob… I believe were their names."

"Oh. A little. They were there when I first put on this bloody mask, but I never formally met them."

"How high were they up the food chain? Their masks were painted differently than yours," inquired Ron.

"Oh, not very high at all," Logan chuckled. "Or else, they wouldn't be wandering the forest looking for Winter's Crest." What he said held water, or frozen water. Ice cubes? It didn't matter. Ron pushed the analogy out of his mind and focused on the snow that had somehow made its way into his robes. He was definitely regretting his choice of hiding places a few moments ago.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione noticed his discomfort. Ron was trying to adjust his robes and jeans to loosen the snow that wrapped around him.

"I've got snow in my pants," Ron spoke without thinking. Hermione and Logan stopped for an instant and they both gave him the "dumb look," again. Hermione did for certain. He wasn't positive about Logan, but he could tell he was giving off the same vibe. "So, what was Harry looking for at Winter's Crest?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Logan pushed on. "But whatever it was, the Vanguard is obviously looking for it too."

"Does this have to do with the whole origin of magic thing?" Ron asked. Hermione looked at him with a shocked expression on her face. The wizard merely smiled at her in response. He was happy that he could still surprise her.

"So you weren't sleeping after all," Logan asked slyly.

Ron shrugged. "I might have been awake." He would have liked to attribute it to his Auror training, but he had learned how to sleep and listen at the same time a long time ago at Hogwarts. Divination class, during his third year, was the best place to train this strange ability of his. He and Harry would often use this trick all the time when Professor Trelawney aimlessly spouted about omens and prophecies to the class.

"I'm still new to the Vanguard," Logan responded. "However, I'd bet on the Caerphilly Catapults that it has something to do with it… That's if I was a betting man." He laughed to himself; Ron and Hermione didn't find the joke amusing. Then he stopped. "We're here."

"Here?" Hermione asked. She didn't try to hide her annoyance.

"Winter's Crest."

"Where?" Ron wondered.

"Don't you remember? It's invisible. Some bloke put a charm on it."

"But how do you know we're here?"

Logan pointed at a fallen tree branch. It appeared to be like every other branch that lay on the snowy ground. Then he realized what Logan was really pointing at. Part of the branch was missing. It was obvious when you looked for it. The end of the branch just disappeared, like it was hiding behind the Cloak of Invisibility. Before Ron could say anything Logan was gone when he turned his head back to him.

"Where'd he go?" Ron asked Hermione, but she disappeared too. Duh. The Auror took a deep breath and stepped forward as he held it, his eyes were closed when he crossed. Then he slowly opened them. Ron stood there in horrific awe along with Hermione when he saw the village.

Most of Winter's Crest was burned down and destroyed. Someone had recently razed the village to the ground and didn't take it easy on the small town. Majority of the buildings had collapsed roofs and charred walls. A few structures remained standing, but all of the windows were blown and most of the infrastructure had decayed. Shards of frozen glass, wooden splinters, and stone dust littered the area. And snow covered the ruined city, like everywhere else.

"Welcome," Logan said wryly, "to Winter's Crest."

"Bullocks," Ron muttered.

"Harry can't be here," Hermione fell to her knees, shaking and trembling as she started to cry. Ron didn't go to her, he couldn't move his legs, or body for that matter. A cold, dark terror crept from his stomach and wrecked through him without mercy. He wanted to vomit at the inclination that Harry was buried someplace underneath the rubble and ash. He wanted Winter's Crest to be somewhere else and not this place. The young Auror wished with all his might, but he knew they were where they were supposed to be. The next best thing was to imagine Harry was no longer in the village. Ron hoped his best friend had escaped this place before it was laid to ruin. But if Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, wasn't here, then where was he?

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6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Logan lifted up his illuminated wand into the chilly air as Harry examined the ancient map once again. They spent the past three hours searching for the missing marker. The sun had set a while ago and the snow was starting to pick up. Logan couldn't stop his body from shivering and shaking, but Harry appeared well adjusted to the sudden drop in temperature. That didn't matter, at this rate, it was going to be become a full-blown snowstorm.

"I think we found it," Harry had his face close pressed to the map.

"Found what?" Logan stuttered.

"Look over there," Harry pointed with his free hand at a tall sentinel. "It's marked on the map and so is that monument over there." He drew Logan's attention to the decimated statue. Most of the figure had decayed over the years, but the base remained, buried in snow. "I think is it." Harry trudged through the snow and made his way to a stone column.

"Or what's left of it," Logan said coldly. He wasn't pleased with where the map had taken them. They were standing in the middle of a collapsed building except for a few columns and walls. He scratched the snow building around his beard to help cleanse his mind. Even though Logan grew up in the mountains, he never liked the snow or the cold. The trembling wizard would have liked to be born somewhere warmer, like Somerset.

"Don't sound so down," Harry joked as he examined the column more closely that stood before him. Logan wasn't amused. He watched his friend move around the stone tower, creating a circular trench around it. The snow from the building blizzard attempted to fill it, but Harry's leg, feet, and robes would push away the snow.

"You find something?" Logan inquired as he adjusted his fur coat. "Or do you like walking in circles?" He grimaced when Harry refused to respond to his question.

Harry stopped and pressed his gloved hand against the cold stone. "Here it is." The young wizard slowly removed the wool and touched the frozen rock with his bare fingers. "It's not cold." Harry brushed his fingers against the skin of his cheek and smiled softly.

"What?" Logan stepped closer to the column and felt heat radiate from it. It was like standing next to a small fire at home. The rock was hot enough to melt the ice particles that were developing in his beard. "How far away from the village are we?"

"Far enough," Harry muttered as he pushed the stone palette. It retracted into the column and the ground beneath them started to shake. The snow sunk as a trap door composed of rock and timber opened up. The two wizards slowly approached the trap door with their wands drawn.

"So," Logan wondered aloud, "Who goes down first?" Harry didn't speak. Instead, the young wizard pressed his hand against Logan's back and gave him a rough push. Logan felt the wind rush past him as he descended down the trap door. It was a short fall and fortunately he was wearing many layers. He hit on the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. Logan sat up wheezing as Harry landed beside him, on his feet. "You could have warned at least warned me, Potter."

Harry shrugged.

Logan pushed away Harry's hand and stood up with his own power. The trap door led them to a small, but long and narrow, room. It was also strangely warm, just like the column, and Logan begrudgingly removed his fur coat. His favorite fur coat mind you. It was made from a dire wolf's pelt his father had brought home after his visit to the States. "What is this place?"

"I'm not sure," Harry replied as he examined the walls of the room. There were styles and symbols drawn along the walls. They were faint, but the engravings could be made out. Then Logan realized they weren't decorations or random pictures, but a language. It was ancient. The bearded wizard squinted, but it didn't help his cause. The symbols appeared completely random and it was difficult to distinguish them. They were composed of various squares, triangles, circles, and lines. "Bloody hell. I've never seen this language before." Harry had arrived at the same conclusion.

"Neither have I," Logan admitted. "I've lived here all my life and never come across this." Harry responded with a light nod. Logan chose to remove another layer. It was a thin cotton robe, but it didn't help. After a few minutes of fidgeting and wresting, he managed to dress down to his last robe. It was extremely refreshing to be free of the extra weight. To enjoy this new sensation, Logan rotated his upper body along his hips and swung his arms around like a helicopter. It was oddly liberating to be free of all that clothing, but he was actually free of the early winter air. Logan then noticed Harry had stopped pacing. "What? Figure it out already?"

"No," he muttered. "But I think I know how to get out of here." Harry rubbed his fingers along a vertical crack in the wall. He traced his hand and formed an imaginary rectangle in the wall. "I think this is a door." The young wizard pulled out his wand and with a flick, the door opened abruptly. Logan covered his nose as dust and old air escaped into the small room. Before Logan could say anything, Harry pushed the door open and walked in.

"I'm happy you're being so cavalier, Harry," said Logan. "But we should be careful."

Harry nodded slightly, as if by instinct and not by acknowledgement. It always annoyed Logan. Behind the door was a wide stairway that led down to a giant atrium. The atrium was in pristine condition and despite its age, it looked like it was only built recently. Torches along the walls lit instantly when the two wizards descended down the steps. Near the edge of the stairs stood an incredible statue. The figure standing on the granite base appeared to be a knight holding a sword and shield. It reminded Logan of the fairytales his father used to tell him at night before bed.

Large columns made of marble towered over them, each decorated with a different banner. Harry then stopped before a brown, tattered banner. It was different from the others because of the Red Rose stitched in the center of the flag. The young wizard appeared to be mesmerized by it. Logan took a few steps forward to get a look of Harry's face. He was analyzing it, Logan could see the speed at which his eyes were moving, and the cogs in his mind were turning.

"What is it?" asked Logan.

Harry paused for a moment before speaking. "It's the emblem of the House of Lancaster."

"The what of what?" Logan cocked his eyebrow at the Lancaster banner.

"The House of Lancaster. Old English royalty." Harry explained.

"Muggle stuff I assume?" Logan wasn't interested in Muggle affairs, but he was familiar with them. He had grown up with many Muggle children in Province. Unlike most witches and wizards, Logan didn't attend Hogwarts. In reality, almost every child with magical ability was enrolled at Muggle schools and learned magic on the side. However, Logan never paid much attention in school.

"You do know you live in Lancashire?" Harry asked. "How about the War of the Roses?"

Logan simply shrugged. "Look, I know Muggles, I even lived with a few once, but I don't know them like you do, Harry. Why does it matter anyways?"

"It helps establish the last time this place was opened," Harry shook his head.

"You think they were the last ones here because of a flag?"

"Look," Harry tried to explain. "I'm still not sure about this place's past, but I'm certain about it this, okay?" The young wizard didn't wait for Logan to respond. Instead, he pushed forward and left Logan standing beside the column. The older wizard shook his head and chased after his friend.

The hallway that proceeded after the atrium was long and narrow. The condition of the hallway was much worse than the atrium. There were cobwebs that hung off the torches. The symbols and mysterious language was almost completely worn away. And the ceiling, the walls, and the floors were composed of loose and decrepit stones. Logan didn't like where they were headed.

Harry stopped and raised a fist. Logan halted immediately and waited for the young wizard to act. Then he could hear it. He could hear voices from the end of the hallway. Harry turned his head towards Logan. The two wizards nodded at each other and drew their wands.

Logan couldn't help but notice something strange about the voices as they approached them. They were several of them, but they were speaking unison. The voices were monotone and hollow. Then he realized what they were doing. "What is this place, a temple? Are they're chanting?"

"I guess they are," Harry muttered as they reached the end of the hallway. It led them to a balcony and causeway overlooking a deep room. The two wizards took cover behind the stone fences. Silently, they carefully raised their heads over the tops to see what was happening.

There were over a dozen wizards and witches standing around a humongous, stone slab. They were all dressed in black but wore white masks with indistinguishable markings on them. However, four of them caught Logan's attention. Three of them had white cloaks over their black robes and the other had a red cloak. Logan assumed the one in red was their leader and the others were his lieutenants.

The leader was much taller and slender when compared to those standing beside him. His arms were raised and it seemed like he was leading the chant, obviously. The white cloaks were of various heights and weights. The one of the left was short and wide, and he was swaying from side to side, as if he was light headed. The one on the right was bigger than his counterpart and stood with a firm stance. The last was more like their leader, but he was paying little attention to the ritual they were performing.

However, it was not them that concerned Logan, nor frightened him. It was the stone creature that laid on the middle of the table the wizards and witches were crowded around. It looked strange to Logan. It was twice the size of a regular man and each limp was composed of stone. Even the fingers and toes of the monster were made of rock. "What is that?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied.

Logan almost jumped back when he saw the creature stir. It must have been his imagination. It was probably due to sleep deprivation or hunger. That's what he hoped for. The thing wasn't alive, it couldn't be. Then the chanting of the masked witches and wizards grew louder and became violent. The creature continued to seizure as the ritual was nearing its end.

Then its eyes lit up, a bright green which reminded Logan of the Killing Curse. It sent a chill down Logan's spine but then the creature let out a terrifying roar as it was awoken. It not only shook the room, but the also core of Logan's soul. Such a cry could even wake the dead. The witches and wizards instantly stopped. They looked at each. Many started to back away, some even screamed when the stone monster stood up. The stone slab split in half under the creature's weight. When its feet crushed into the ground, it sent cracks and quakes through the ground. The wizard in red tried to calm the beast with hand gestures.

"I think it's time to go, Harry," Logan hissed. The wizard turned and raised his arm to grab Harry's attention. However, as Logan spun, his shoulder bumped into a loose baluster. He and Harry watched in silent horror as the stone shaft fell into the room below. It struck the ground hard and the sound of the crash echoed through the room. The masked witches and wizards turned their attention to Logan and Harry. Their leader pointed at them and shouted something only they could hear. Many of them disapparated while others started casting spells. The stone creature let out a deafening cry and charged at them. Despite having the high ground, Logan knew they were at the disadvantage due to the numbers and the monster. "Now it's really time to go!"

Logan grabbed Harry's collar and pulled him into the hallway as light jetted passed their faces. The torches that once lit the tunnel were extinguished. It was as if the temple knew what was going on and it was trying to hinder their escape. However, Logan was going to get that happen. He took the lead and drew his wand. "Lumen telos." Light erupted from the tip of his wand and jetted through the air, illuminating the dark hallway.

Then jets of light started to fly by the two wizards. Their chasers were now in the tunnel too, close behind them and dumb enough to cast spells in a tight and enclosed space. To avoid accidentally casting any spells, Logan placed his wand back under his robes. The hexes and curses exploded and crackled when they collided with the walls, creating bursts of heat and energy. At this point Logan missed the cold and the snow. He missed being outside in the early winter weather.

"Keep moving, Logan," Harry shouted over the load explosions. Logan could barely make out what Harry was shouting but figured it'd be stupid to stop and ask. There was a small explosion behind him, it was bigger than the others and caused him to fly forward. Logan managed to keep his balance and quickly turned to check up Harry. The young wizard was on the ground, in appeared he had taken the blunt of the explosion but wasn't seriously injured. At least that's what he hoped. Logan figured it was no use and took Harry's wand from his bloody.

"Terralevo," Logan muttered and swung his arm up towards the ceiling. The ground near Harry's feet shook violently. The cobble stone floor broke apart and turned into small pieces of shrapnel and dust. It descended down the hallway like a tidal wave of destruction. That should hold them off and provide him and Harry some more time. "C'mon," he demanded. He gave Harry his wand back as he helped him onto his feet.

Logan grabbed Harry's collar and pulled him forward when Harry tried to survey the damage created by the spell. There was no time to admire his work. No time at all. When they reached the large atrium, Logan stopped and allowed Harry to run past him. "Run, Potter!"

Harry stopped and turned around. "I can't." The young wizard started to walk back towards him. Logan was exhausted and grizzled. He was thankful for Harry's loyalty, but irritated by his stubbornness. Logan wasn't planning on winning the duel; he just wanted to give his friend some extra time to escape.

"No," he shouted. "I'll hold them—" Before Logan could finish, a loud bang echoed through the atrium as light from the hallway erupted from the hallway. In a fraction of a second, Logan drew his wand and blocked the curse, sending it rebounding back into the hallway. He smiled when he heard the caster scream in agony. However, it was only a temporary moment of happiness. The satisfaction was ripped away when the stone creature broke through the archway of the hall and into the atrium. "What is that thing?"

The monster stared at Logan for a moment and then at Harry. Even though the monster was made of rock, he had human features and qualities. It had a defined face too. It resembled a giant made of stone. The thing would have made an excellent statue in another lifetime. The monster let out another roar of anger and lunged at Logan.

Before it could make contact, a red jet of light struck its chest. Logan dove to his left while the creature fell to his right. He was happy the atrium was built on a smooth, marble floor. It lessened the pain of his jump, but the slide created by his momentum greatly increased the distance between him and monster. Logan stood and swung his arm upwards again, casting his favorite spell. The beautiful tiles shook violently and broke apart as it formed into a wave made of shrapnel. While it did little damage to the monster, it was forced to its knees due to the lack of support beneath its feet.

"Harry, you have to get out of here," Logan shouted. He could hear the voices from their chasers approaching them. With a quick flick of his wand, the rest of the archway collapsed, trapping them inside. It wasn't permanent, but it would have to do.

"And leave you to fight that thing?" responded Harry, the young wizard loyal to a fault and a stubborn fool. The stone creature managed to find its footing and charged at Logan once again. It crashed through the marble columns, knocking them aside as if they were bowling pins. The monster rushed through the atrium with incredible speed that caught both wizards off guard. Harry tried to defend his friend with the previous spell, but it was no use. It missed the monster by a fraction of a second and before Harry could cast it again, the stone giant was already on Logan.

Time seemed to slow down for the wizard. First he watched as the stone fingers of the slowly wrapped around his neck. He felt his wand slip through his left hand and fall to the ground. When the broken wand made contact with the marble floor, it was the only thing Logan could hear through all the madness. It splintered and shattered. The stone palm slammed into his chest, causing him to lose his balance. His body didn't register the impact or the pain for some reason. He didn't feel his ribs collapse from the sheer force of the attack, his lungs filled with blood almost immediately, and the oxygen in them quickly left his body. Despite his current predicament, he was in complete bliss. Logan looked up into the creature's face and saw its bright, green eyes staring down at him. It wasn't angry or bloodlust. The monster's eyes were apathetic to situation. But Logan was lost to them and the wizard then smiled for a brief moment. Time slowed down as he embraced his fate. He could hear Harry screaming his name.

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