Chapter 160. The Castle in the Forest
King's Cross Station.
Travellers carrying trunks or pushing luggage trolleys came and went, a ceaseless stream.
Among them, two figures who looked rather odd—an old man and a boy—stood before a solid stone wall.
The old man wore a strangely cut grey robe and a pointed hat, his kindly face creasing so that his eyes narrowed into slits as he smiled.
A beautiful, flame-red great bird stood on his shoulder, yet no one paid any mind to this astonishing sight.
The surrounding travellers passed by as if they had not seen it at all, chattering away about their own affairs.
"Professor Dumbledore, you could have taken me straight back to the school.
Why must I take the train?"
The boy standing at the old man's right hand looked thoroughly helpless and tilted his head up to complain.
The peculiar pair were Dumbledore and Duncan.
After last night's party ended, the professors had returned to the school.
Both Olivia and Kiana had grown interested in magical creatures, and Kiana had not yet recovered.
So they left with Newt and Tina, so that while convalescing they could continue learning about magical creatures connected to the school.
Duncan had wanted to hitch a ride with Dumbledore, to travel with the phoenix in a flash back to school, sparing himself the time wasted on the train.
But to his surprise Dumbledore refused, as if teasing Duncan, and at the crack of dawn brought him to the station.
"Don't you think it's more ceremonial for students to go to school by train?"
The smile on Dumbledore's face deepened.
"Off you go.
The train is about to depart."
Before Duncan could react, Dumbledore vanished in a flare of fire.
Duncan rolled his eyes, looked ahead, then gripped his case and strode towards the barrier, quickening his pace.
When he was a few feet from the wall, he broke into a run.
A blur flashed across his vision and he passed cleanly through the wall onto the platform.
A deep-red steam engine stood by the platform, which was packed with passengers.
A board hung on the train read: Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock.
Thick smoke from the engine curled above the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wove between people's feet.
Amid the hum of voices and the racket of heavy luggage being hauled, Duncan seemed to hear someone loudly calling his name.
He turned and saw Hermione step down from the train steps, pushing through the others to greet him, her bushy brown hair streaming behind her.
"Have you got everything sorted?"
Panting slightly, Hermione came to a stop before Duncan and tucked the loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I suppose at least half of it is done," Duncan said.
What a pity they hadn't caught those hateful culprits.
Dumbledore and Newt and the others had spent days ranging out to encircle and head them off, but each time those people escaped after paying some price.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
Hermione's eyes checked him over.
Seeing no obvious injuries, she let out a soft breath.
"Not too much trouble along the way," Duncan shook his head lightly, then asked, "By the way, have you seen Neville?"
"No..."
An embarrassed smile flickered over Hermione's face.
She had just been leaning out the window looking for Duncan and had completely forgotten Neville.
"No worries.
Come on, let's find a compartment first," Duncan said with a smile.
"That fellow is rather like his pet toad; if you look for him on purpose, he mysteriously vanishes, but if you don't, after a little while he turns up at your side of his own accord."
Hermione's willow brows lifted a little, doubt flashing in her eyes.
She didn't quite believe Duncan.
But as they walked along the train for a bit and were about to board through an entrance, Neville's voice suddenly sounded from ahead.
He was leaning out as far as he could from the second window in front of Duncan, half his body hanging in mid-air, excitement and delight written all over his face.
"Duncan, Hermione—so you've already met up?"
"I've been looking for you for ages!" Neville shouted happily.
Duncan turned his head and winked at Hermione with a smile, as if to say, "See? I wasn't wrong, was I?"
Hermione's eyes curved as she nodded, and she very much wanted to look up and call, "Neville, Duncan says you're just like your toad!"
Just as Duncan and Hermione boarded the train, entered the compartment where Neville was, and—with a clatter—started off towards Hogwarts—
On an endless grassland somewhere in Yorkshire, England, a woman in a black suit appeared out of thin air.
She had a high bridge to her nose, full lips, and amber eyes as beautiful as a cat's, with a tall and elegant figure.
A deadly, bewitching air radiated from her whole person, making it hard to look away.
She surveyed her surroundings cautiously, and when she was sure no one was there, she raised a hand to stroke the empty air and murmured a spell.
As though touching a lake surface, ripples spread from her palm in all directions, then returned to calm with great speed.
The woman watched the space before her with composure.
When the ripples fully faded, she lifted her foot and, as if casually, took a step forward.
At once the scene before her changed in a marvellous way.
From the open plain she shifted to the depths of a densely vegetated forest.
There was also a man-made cobblestone path, winding towards an unknown direction.
The tall trees along the way cast deep shadows, shutting out the sunlight entirely and exuding a chill that made one's skin crawl.
The woman exhaled softly, as if steadying her nerves, then set off along the cobblestone path.
The hard soles of her shoes clicked crisply against the stones, the sound echoing through the forest and answering the birdsong that trilled now and then.
When her footsteps ceased, silence fell around her.
Before her stood a grand and ancient castle.
Like a time-worn giant, it squatted in the forest, wordlessly welcoming travellers who had come from afar.
The woman exhaled again, crossed the last stretch of path, climbed the stone steps, and lifted her wand to knock upon the tall, dark-brown doors.
As her wand came down, it was as if a gust of wind blew from behind; the doors rumbled and slowly swung open.
She stepped inside.
Within was a lavishly decorated hall steeped in a mediaeval air, and straight ahead was a staircase leading on.
With a crack like the snap of a whip, a house-elf appeared.
It wore a clean pillowcase.
"Ms Capet," the house-elf said, bowing so humbly that its long nose touched the floor.
"Cornell," Lydia Capet said in an even voice.
"Is the master at home now?"
"The master is at home, but he has ordered that it is the Christmas holidays and he needs rest, so he will see no one!" Cornell said, still bent double.
"Ms Capet, may I ask what brings you here now?"
Hearing the warning in Cornell's tone, Lydia frowned slightly.
"This is extremely important.
I must see the master at once."
Cornell raised his head, his headlamp-like eyes scrutinising Lydia.
After a moment, he bowed low again.
"Ms Capet, the master will receive you in the study on the third floor.
Will you be taking luncheon here presently?"
"No need," Lydia said stiffly, brushing past Cornell and striding up the staircase ahead.
Cornell's head remained pressed to the floor, and, as if he had eyes atop his head, it slowly swivelled to follow Lydia's progress.
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