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HP: Fantastic Beasts And The Right Way To Use Them - 282
🕑 Added 2025-11-24 20:46:55 +0000 UTCChapter 282: Woke Up and Saw a Ghost
Time slipped by. The deep corridor seemed endless, spawning one puzzle after another. None were particularly difficult, but all of them were clever in their own way.
Clever or not, they all dissolved the instant the Dark Wizard King flicked her hand, which left Evans feeling distinctly underwhelmed.
Her "Spring Nymph 101" had already finished. According to her, there was still a chunk of knowledge left to cover, but it would take too long to explain properly, and this was not the place. She promised to find time back at Hogwarts to teach Sothia the rest.
Their footsteps echoed along the long passageway. With the lecture over, the Dark Wizard King seemed to lose all interest in conversation. She walked on in silence, and the quiet began to weigh on both Evans and Sothia.
Neither of them was naturally taciturn, but there was a strange pressure radiating from the woman’s presence that made them instinctively keep their mouths shut. They trailed behind her like a pair of henchmen attending some dread overlord.
By this point, Evans was beginning to regret leaving Dobby and the Sprite King outside.
If he wanted to flash back the whole way to fetch them, it would take at least two minutes of chained Apparitions. He might as well have just brought Dobby along and let the elf side-along them out when they were done.
The problem was, he still had no idea what sorts of wards lay ahead. Modern defensive magic rarely bothered to account for house-elf Apparition anymore, but Merlin’s work was another matter. There might well be an array specifically keyed to block house-elf travel.
Better to rely on flashing. Between his own talent and Alice’s repeated boosts, his Apparition had been reinforced more times than he could count. It was almost certainly safer than trusting an elf’s jump.
Although seriously, how long was this corridor? It had to be close to half an hour by now.
How deep had Merlin dug this place? Or had he stretched it with something like an Extension Charm?
As he was turning that over, a chill brushed the back of his hand. He raised it and saw a line of water-blue text fading from his skin.
[Who is this "big sister" supposed to be, exactly?]
He traced a few strokes across the back of his hand. A silver-white sigil flashed once, and matching silver words appeared on Sothia’s.
[I explained it already, didn’t I?]
[All you said was you went to Egypt and dragged someone home. That’s not an explanation.]
[If you want the full story, that’ll take a while.]
He paused, organising his thoughts. Since they had nothing better to do, he might as well set it all down and talk Sothia through everything that had happened in Egypt.
Before he could begin, the Dark Wizard King at the front, who had been silent this entire time, suddenly spoke.
"We’re here."
Evans dropped his hand at once and looked up.
A few metres ahead, a cluster of dim runes was fading away. Beyond them lay a scene that looked nothing like the passage around it.
The space was huge, like the hollow heart of a mountain. High overhead, a single rune of pure light hung in the air like a sun, flooding the cavern with a radiance brighter than daylight.
Beneath that radiance stretched a picture-perfect garden. There were no rare magical plants here, only ordinary flowers and grass. Yet those simple plants, arranged as they were, wove a dreamlike landscape.
What drew Evans’s attention most, though, was the figure standing at the garden’s far end.
A young man in a pointed hat and a star-spangled cloak, his whole bearing wrapped in quiet mystery.
He stood very still, hands folded before his chest, back to the entrance, as if deep in meditation.
As Evans watched, the young man slowly lowered his hands and spoke in a soft voice.
"I have waited close to a thousand years, and at last you have come. So the original did not simply want to throw me away."
"I knew it. A fragment as creative and full of life as I am—he would never waste me."
Evans felt a metaphorical question mark form above his head.
Creative fragment? Since when did fragments have different personalities from their originals?
Still, only a fragment.
His shoulders slumped a little in disappointment.
All this effort—this whole ridiculous, over-decorated garden—and it wasn’t even the real Merlin, just a copy.
Even so, a fragment should know more than the talking portrait hanging at school.
He slid a glance at the Dark Wizard King, standing just ahead. At some point, her fists had clenched, and a chilling, oppressive aura was beginning to seep from her. The cold mask of her face had twisted into a thin, razor-edged smile.
She was, quite clearly, very annoyed.
And very much in the mood to hit something.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t smash this fragment to pieces before it said anything useful.
The young man in the garden, apparently oblivious to the looming threat behind him, went on in the patient, measured tone of a hermit-sage.
"Reaching this place proves your understanding of nature has met the basic threshold."
"From here, I can begin teaching you some practical nature magic."
"Trust me. You will profit greatly."
As he spoke, the star-cloaked youth turned.
The movement was perfectly smooth. A mysterious smile curved his mouth, and every gesture seemed laden with layers of meaning.
Halfway through the turn, he opened his eyes. Warm relief seemed to glimmer there.
Then he caught sight of what was behind him.
His body locked up. The smile dropped clean off his face, replaced instantly by raw horror. Beads of cold sweat broke out on his brow.
He snapped his eyes shut, twisted back the way he had come, and began muttering under his breath.
"No way. That can’t be real—I must be seeing ghosts. Glitch in the fragment spell, plus some random interference, causing hallucinations."
"Yes, that’s it. Must have just got up too fast this morning. Ha. Hallucinations. Nothing real."
He whispered to himself for a long moment. At last, he seemed to have talked himself round. He smoothed his cloak, regained his "mysterious master" posture, and turned again, expression once more grave and unreadable.
He opened his eyes.
His body blew apart into a spray of pale-violet ripples.
For a heartbeat, those ripples took the outline of a strange, huge bird, streaking upwards as if to ram itself straight into the rock above.
It made it only a few metres before a chunk of black mist slammed down on it from nowhere. The bird-shape collapsed. The fragment’s body re-formed and hit the ground with a heavy thud, sending dust billowing through the bright, impossible garden.
