/Harry potter fanfic/Venom of Power: Rise of Blackthorn

Chapter 12: Chapter 12: Echoes



The morning sun bathed Hogwarts in a golden hue as Arlen Blackthorn, Fred, and George Weasley made their way back to the castle. The events of the previous night—the confrontation with the Heart of Shadows and their personal trials—lingered in their minds, casting a contemplative silence over the trio.

As they approached the castle's entrance, the imposing figure of Professor Minerva McGonagall awaited them, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Mr. Blackthorn, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley," she began, her Scottish brogue crisp, "I trust you have a compelling explanation for your nocturnal excursion?"

Fred and George exchanged a glance, but it was Arlen who stepped forward. "Professor, we—"

"Save your explanations for Professor Dumbledore," McGonagall interjected, her tone brooking no argument. "Follow me."

The journey to the Headmaster's office was swift, the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance leaping aside at McGonagall's terse utterance of "Sherbet Lemon." Inside, the circular room was filled with the soft whirring of delicate silver instruments and the gentle snores of the portraits of former headmasters.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his grand desk, his blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. "Ah, Minerva, thank you," he said warmly. "Please, have a seat."

Once they were seated, Dumbledore regarded them with a serene expression. "I understand you three have had quite the adventure."

Arlen nodded, recounting their journey into the Forbidden Forest, the discovery of the Heart of Shadows, and the trials they faced within. Dumbledore listened intently, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

When Arlen finished, Dumbledore sighed softly. "The Heart of Shadows is a relic from a bygone era, its existence known to very few. That you not only found it but also reinforced its seals speaks volumes of your abilities and character."

Fred shifted in his seat. "Professor, why was something so dangerous left unguarded?"

Dumbledore's gaze grew distant. "The Heart was hidden away, its location lost to time. It seems fate—or perhaps something more—guided you to it."

George frowned. "But what if someone else had found it? Someone with darker intentions?"

"A valid concern," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Which is why I must ask: did anyone else know of your journey?"

Arlen shook his head. "No, Professor. We told no one."

Dumbledore nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Very well. I trust you will keep this matter confidential. The fewer who know of the Heart, the better."

The trio agreed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

As they rose to leave, Dumbledore's voice stopped them. "Mr. Blackthorn, a word, if you please."

Fred and George exchanged curious glances but exited the office without protest.

Once they were alone, Dumbledore regarded Arlen with a penetrating gaze. "You possess a remarkable affinity for ancient magic, Arlen. The Codex of Shadows is not a tome that reveals itself to just anyone."

Arlen shifted uncomfortably. "It... called to me, Professor. I can't explain it."

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Magic often defies explanation. But be cautious. The allure of such power can be intoxicating, and not always for the better."

Arlen nodded solemnly. "I understand, Professor."

"Good," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling once more. "Now, off you go. And do try to stay out of further trouble."

As Arlen left the office, he couldn't shake the feeling that his connection to the ancient magics of the wizarding world was deeper than he had ever imagined. The weight of the Codex, though no longer in his possession, seemed to press heavily upon his thoughts.

Rejoining Fred and George in the corridor, he forced a grin. "Fancy a trip to the kitchens? I could use a bite."

Fred laughed. "Now you're speaking our language."

George clapped Arlen on the back. "Let's go, before McGonagall finds another reason to scold us."

As they made their way to the kitchens, the castle seemed to hum with life around them. Students bustled through the corridors, portraits whispered to one another, and the ghosts of Hogwarts floated serenely above.

In the kitchens, the house-elves greeted them warmly, piling plates high with pastries and pouring goblets of pumpkin juice. The trio ate heartily, the camaraderie easing the lingering tension from their ordeal.

Later, as they lounged in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione Granger approached, a curious glint in her eye. "I heard you three were up to something last night."


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