"My dorm?" Jon froze for a moment, caught off guard.
Wait—wasn't this identity supposed to have been fabricated by Dumbledore using a Confundus Charm? Could everything about this Patrick actually exist—not just the identity, but the dorm room and even the belongings left behind at the school?
Or perhaps there really was a Patrick... one Dumbledore had killed and replaced?
The thought sent a chill down Jon's spine, but he quickly dismissed it. No matter how he looked at it, Dumbledore wasn't that kind of person.
So what was really going on—?
Though his thoughts raced, Jon's expression remained calm and composed. He gave the old man a polite nod.
Following the sleazy old Professor Vance, Jon stepped back into the corridor.
He never let his guard down around this strangely behaving "Headmaster." He still didn't understand why the man's attitude had shifted so drastically after seeing the iron ring.
The corridors of Durmstrang Castle seemed much quieter now—most of the students were likely in class.
The old man walked ahead, then suddenly turned around.
Jon stopped, his guard instantly up.
"He..." Professor Vance's raspy voice broke the silence. "Is he... well?"
"He?" Jon frowned. Was he talking about Dumbledore?
No matter how peculiar Dumbledore's tastes were, he surely wouldn't take a liking to such a disheveled, sleazy man...
"He's doing great," Jon replied evenly. "He can polish off two pounds of sweets in one sitting."
The old man froze for a moment. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
"Follow me," he said instead.
...
They climbed to the fourth floor of Durmstrang Castle.
On the way, they passed several figures dressed as instructors—but none greeted Professor Vance. Instead, they brushed past him coldly, as if they were complete strangers.
It seemed that after Karkaroff's disappearance, Durmstrang had become far from peaceful.
At least a good number of teachers and students didn't recognize this sleazy old man as their new Headmaster.
Jon made up his mind to leave this place as soon as possible—before anyone could misunderstand his association with Vance and drag him into Durmstrang's internal chaos.
They finally reached a corridor on the fourth floor that looked as though it housed hundreds of kennels.
And "kennels" was an apt description. Small doors were packed tightly together every couple of feet, so low and narrow one had to stoop to get through. It wasn't hard to imagine how cramped it must be inside.
"This is the one?" Professor Vance glanced at the parchment in his hand, then pointed at a small, yellowed door.
"Yes." Jon nodded, bending down to squeeze his way in.
"I'll leave you to it," Professor Vance's voice called from behind him.
...
Inside, the yellowed iron door opened into a space far larger than expected—bigger even than a Hogwarts dormitory.
Jon began to understand why Krum had once told Hermione that Durmstrang was roomier than Hogwarts. If every chamber in this castle had been expanded with magic, then it might well be true.
The room reeked of age and decay. The walls, like the iron door, bore the same aged yellow tint. Wooden desks and shelves had rotted away, and thick dust coated every surface. When Jon stepped forward, his footprints pressed deep into the floor.
Clearly, this "dormitory" had been abandoned for a long time—perhaps even years.
What exactly did that mysterious janitor—the one even the so-called Headmaster treated with respect—want him to retrieve from here?
Jon drew his wand, scanning the room cautiously before beginning his search.
Everything about this trip to Durmstrang had been filled with strangeness.
The wardrobe contained only a few Durmstrang uniforms, gnawed to shreds by rats. The bookshelf held a few yellowed textbooks, and on the desk sat a rusted cauldron.
Jon checked each item carefully with his wand. Everything appeared ordinary—nothing unusual at all.
Then what was it he was supposed to find?
He kept searching, and after several minutes, noticed a familiar mark on the wall behind the bookshelf—
The symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
Or rather, Grindelwald's mark.
He had seen the same symbol earlier in Professor Vance's office.
Recalling the strange look on Vance's face when he had seen the ring, Jon frowned, a thought forming in his mind.
Gently, he slipped off the iron ring from his finger. His disguise faded, and Jon Hart returned to his original form. Then, pressing the ring against the mark of the Deathly Hallows on the wall—
He felt a sharp tug behind his navel, as if he had grabbed hold of a Portkey.
The world spun wildly around him until—
...
Jon Hart opened his eyes again.
"Lumos!"
As the tip of his wand flared with bright light, he realized he was surrounded by darkness—utter, impenetrable darkness.
No... not just darkness.
His breathing quickened. It wasn't the absence of light—it was something covering him.
It resembled a black cloak—thin as shadow itself, shifting like something alive, no more than half an inch thick... yet it hung around him like a living shroud.
Jon recognized it instantly—a magical creature, and a terrifying one at that.
A Lethifold.
Extremely rare, usually found only in tropical regions—massive yet thin, capable of thickening after consuming a victim. Exceptionally dangerous, ranked XXXXX by Newt Scamander in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the same level as basilisks and dragons.
Lethifolds had long lifespans, and they grew larger as they aged.
The one above him now looked large enough to cover the entire Durmstrang Castle.
Lethifolds hunted by using their immense, shadow-like bodies to smother prey—suffocating them until death, then absorbing them completely, leaving no trace behind.
Victims rarely had the chance to use magic before being overtaken.
There was only one known spell capable of repelling a Lethifold—the Patronus Charm.
"Expecto Patronum!" Jon shouted without hesitation.
A burst of silver light erupted from his wand, and his Patronus appeared beside him.
The little panda floated in the air, its usual playfulness gone, replaced by a tense, watchful gaze. It didn't make its typical chirping sound but instead pressed close to Jon, curling itself into a tight ball.
The Lethifold didn't attack. In fact, if it had struck immediately, Jon would likely have been engulfed before he could even raise his wand.
Its massive, cloak-like form began gliding away into the distance, its tail trailing behind as if motioning for him to follow.
Jon hesitated briefly, then signaled the panda to come along.
...
They seemed to walk through a space devoid of anything but darkness.
Aside from the glow of his wand and the silvery light from his Patronus, there was no other illumination at all.
Still, the gigantic Lethifold remained easy to spot—such a massive figure was impossible to lose sight of.
After walking for what felt like an eternity, something silvery-white appeared ahead, stark and visible even in the dark.
It was a tangled mass of iron—covered in spikes, sharp edges, and twisted metal. Its shape vaguely resembled a chair, though it was hard to imagine anyone sitting on it.
Atop the iron heap rested a small box.
A tiny box, small enough to fit in one hand, surrounded by a faint, ancient glow.