Somewhere along the sweeping fields of the West-Country, along the near-endless tarmac roads that cut through the landscape of Devon and Dorset, a young man appeared in the darkness of a path somewhere within a thick forest next to a quaint village; arriving apparently from nowhere in particular.
If a common late-night walker were to happen upon the sudden arrival of this particular man, they would most likely take note of his strange clothes. The fact that his long maroon cloak inlaid with unrecognisable symbols and words, the equally long pointed hat with quilted patterns of stars and moons, and his tunic-like apparel which had a strange sort of glow to it would unsettle a common late-night walker to turn around, find a small tree stump and sit down until they thought they weren't hallucinating anymore.
Luckily, no common late-night walkers were about; as a matter of fact, hardly anyone had decided to walk in these woods regardless, be it night or day. The fact was that a strange cabin was sitting deep within the forest next to the village, inhabited three years ago, and still to this day, by one of the strangest men the townsfolk had ever seen; perhaps even rivalling the appearance of this new visitor, had been incentive enough.
No one within the village had known that another visitor like the one that had arrived only three years ago had just appeared. And perhaps they wouldn't want to know. Word often spread quickly within a place where everyone virtually knew each other. What they also did not know was that the two strange men were planning to meet each other in that very cabin, the cabin of which the children of the local farmers used to dare each other to go near.
The cloaked man reached into his satchel (a matching maroon-coloured bag with ragged stitching to boot) and took out a strange twig-like object, raising it before him; and suddenly, against any reasonable human logic, the tip shone a bright blue light.
The wetted green leaves reflected the shining light illuminating from the wand, and as the cloaked man moved it around, he could plainly see that no one was visible. He was alone. That is, until he heard a snapping-sound-of-a-twig behind him.
As quick as lightning, the man spun around, pointing the wand directly to the source of the noise; the pulsating blue light shining even brighter. To no surprise of his, the noise came from under a pale bare foot, attached to a small humanoid creature, with tennis-ball blue eyes, drooping pointed ears and the physical complexion of a skeleton, wearing a small tattered t-shirt.
The creature raised his bony arms in the air, genuine horror on the tiny face, and covered his large eyes with his hands. The creature squeaked slightly, and pointed with a claw to the light from the wand. The cloaked man sighed, muttered something under his breath, and the blue disappeared.
"Much thanks to you, Mister Holsworthy." the creature rattled, his voice high but strangely croaked. The cloaked man, Holsworthy, could barely see the creature in the darkness; the streetlamps of the village nearby providing the only source of sight.
"That's quite alright, Nimple." Holsworthy replied, straightening his wishy-washy brown hair under his hat. "Just try not to startle me like that; I could've turned you into soup."
Holsworthy coughed broadly and rubbed his hands together, whilst Nimple starting pinching himself on the arm. It was natural for a house-elf to punish themselves whenever they did something wrong, no matter how trivial or insignificant. Holsworthy didn't exactly like house-elves; they were normally dull as dishwater and had little to offer in the way of home improvement, but he certainly pitied him.
"How 'bout you show me to your master, Nimple?" Holsworthy asked, both breaking the silence and stopping Nimple from giving himself a Chinese burn. "I take it that's why you've come to meet me here?"
The house-elf nodded vigorously in the dark after a final large pinch of his wrist. "Yes, Mister Holsworthy. It's this way."
Nimple spun on his heels and patted along on the soil, brushing through ferns and bushes. Holsworthy followed, raising his satchel over the plants as he tried to follow whatever noise Nimple made. Not long after, Holsworthy could just make out the dim lights of the cabin through the tall spanning trees of the flat forest. He had never been in this place before; rather enjoying his time at home near the seaside; but Holsworthy nevertheless enjoyed the sensation of meeting another fellow wizard.
The cabin on the outside seemed completely normal. Made up of flushed bark planks and a roof made of thatch, the cabin didn't look particularly out of place within the forest. It was certainly the location of a fellow wizard, Holsworthy thought.
The fellow wizard in question, who had moved inside the abandoned cabin three years prior to Holsworthy's arrival, was the purpose of his visit. Not only a few days before Holsworthy, in his home just outside of Portsmouth along the South Coast, had received a letter via owl from a name he had heard many times but had never personally met before: Silas Bideford.
Silas Bideford was perhaps one of the greatest wizard duellists in recent memory. Though he was not as accomplished in the Defence of the Dark Arts as others, Bideford could hold his own against many wizards by himself. His numerous applications to become a Ministry of Magic Auror were entirely unsuccessful, partly due to his family history of Dark Magic but mostly because of his signature talent of showing off.
Bideford had taken to freelance work within the Wizarding community, travelling around the world of various jobs and personal vendettas. He battled against powerful magical creatures that could kill in over four-hundred different ways; captured infamous renegade wizards and witches that terrorised the innocent, and joining bands of adventurers to find long lost artifacts of ancient wizards. He was the sort of man who parents would tell their children to be like; heroic, courageous, brave and dashingly handsome. But on the other hand, he was the sort of man who parents would tell their children not to be like; brash, tenacious, foolhardy and increasingly vain.
Holsworthy was particularly surprised as to why Bideford would be writing him a letter. A famous, infamous and aspiring womaniser wasn't exactly the likely person Holsworthy would expect to receive a letter from; but there the owl was, on his bedroom windowsill four days ago. In the beady eyed owl's claws was a simple envelope and a parcel of photos. The letter read as follows:
Dear Jacob Holsworthy,
I hope my trusty owl Jenkins has found you well. I had recently read of your exploits in the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, and I found them expectantly interesting. I realise that you may still be feeling a little raw about your firing from the Ministry, and that you may want some needed time to yourself; but I have a little proposition for you.
If you are interested, then please come to the forest next to the village of Lambton Gifford, and my house-elf Nimple will be there to meet you. As this meeting will require five other members, I must insist that you arrive at 10:30pm precisely on the 14th of February. The other visitors will arrive shortly after.
I have included several "fotographs" of the location where you shall Apparate to. Please remember these "fotographs" well.
If you are not interested, then please immediately send a note with Jenkins to me, explaining your refusal. Don't fret, there's no hard feelings. Please destroy this message after Jenkins has left.
I look forward to explain my proposal to you.
Yes it's me,
Silas Bideford.
Holsworthy had almost immediately agreed, but there was a slight resistance after he reread the letter precisely six times. After his heavily publicised firing from the Ministry in The Daily Prophet, Holsworthy had received many howlers describing him in very rude words and the repeated deliverance of owls to excrete on the balcony of his flat. As the nature of his firing had interfered with job hunting; including a position at The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley, Honeydukes in Hogsmeade and a repeated dismission from an assistant Charms post at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Holsworthy was desperate for a carcass of Galleons on a silver plate.
The slight resistance that Holsworthy felt was that association with someone like Bideford would garner too much attention; attention which would be detrimental to him. Bideford was the sort of man that would attract significant detrimental attention to those who associated with him. That had often prompted many people to avoid Bideford entirely, unsurprisingly. Holsworthy doubted he would complain. It was the only honest proposal of work or any other kind of alternative Holsworthy had received in weeks; and to reject it would be like forgetting about a winning lottery ticket when the numbers were right in front of you.
And now Holsworthy was here, walking up to the door of one of the greatest duellers of his lifetime, led by the house-elf belonging to one of the greatest duellers of his lifetime. Finally reaching it, Nimple raised a threadbare finger to the treen door, and scratched it slightly. From the tiny scratch, there was a slight trace of green and amber. Holsworthy immediately recognised it as an Interaction-Indication Charm. The enchantment must've surrounded the entire house.
A few moments later, Holsworthy heard a faint rattle of footsteps clambering through rooms and hallways; finally stopping as soon as the pair of feet reached the door. A few bolts and locks retracted later, the portal swung open, and Holsworthy laid eyes upon Silas Bideford.
At first, Holsworthy thought that it might've been the wrong man. The wizard standing before him had ear-long wavy amber hair that seemed to have a mind of its own, and covered one half of his broad face. Bideford had a tall yet muscled complexion, another surprise for Holsworthy, as he considered him duellers to be more lean and narrow than muscular. Bideford's clothes, comprised of a purple cloak and a small brown hood, somehow made him appear smaller than he actually was, as if it was an average size yet he fitted into them with perfect ease. Overall, Bideford seemed to be the sort of man that you'd find if it was a Halloween party where you and him were the only people that attended it.
His grey eyes sparkled when he finally saw Holsworthy before him.
"Ah, Jacob Holsworthy!" he trilled, outstretching his large hands, nearly hitting Nimple. His voice reminded Holsworthy of a slightly less angry bear. "Glad to see you, my friend! I hope the journey wasn't too rough for you? Nimple here didn't get you too lost, did he?"
He laughed, a booming noise that echoed throughout the forest. Nimple whimpered at the reverberation.
"No, no. Nimple did fine." Holsworthy replied embarrassedly, eyeing the house-elf bemusedly; catching the large tennis-ball sized blue eyes for a split-second. "No trouble at-"
"Good, good!" Bideford interjected, grabbing Holsworthy by the wrist and dragging him inside. "That photograph of you in the Prophet doesn't do you justice! But then again, when does it ever do anyone justice!"
Holsworthy managed to wriggle free of Bideford's grasp, smiling politely as he noticed Nimple shutting the door with a click of his fingers. Straightening himself, Holsworthy could at last see what sort of room he was in.
The front door let through a long narrow corridor, dimly lit by rusty lanterns swinging from an unseen ceiling. Bideford must've put in an Undetectable Extension Charm, though from Holsworthy could see, it was a dead giveaway. The wallpaper along the walls were peeling off, the floral patterns now appeared frayed and even dead with some of the more exotic flowers presented.
"Pretty rummy, eh?" Bideford interrupted, noticing Holsworthy's thoughts. "The witch who fixed this up for me was pretty imbecilic, but it's grown on me. Now, if you'll follow me to the lounge, laddy…"
Bideford took his wand hidden within his cloak, raised it into the darkness, and the tip shone the bright blue light exactly as it had done with Holsworthy's. He could hear Nimple whimper behind him. The house-elf must've been very wary of light. Upon further notice, Holsworthy could see that Nimple had far paler skin than that of the common house-elf. It was as if Nimple was… an albino house-elf? The idea seemed strange, but if it can occur with us, why could it not with creatures?
Holsworthy followed Bideford, the only visible thing to him being the tiny bright orb that emanated from the raised wand. The corridor eventually disappeared from sight, and Holsworthy felt they were walking through a darkened atrium, with no sounds except the clattering of their feet. A few moments more of walking, Holsworthy heard Bideford say something, stopping Holsworthy and little Nimple in their tracks.
"Lounge."
Without delay, a grey door quickly appeared in front of the three. Holsworthy suddenly recognised it as a Short/Long-Range Tele-Door Charm. The aforementioned spell was a recent creation, an invention by a young and upcoming wizard named Marfin Wagg. Wagg had often been late to his classes at Hogwarts, constantly earning him detentions and punishments alike. To combat this, Wagg had elected to create a spell that would create a short range link between rooms of the same building. Cheaper than Floo-Powder and less ill-inducing as Apparition, Wagg sold his charm to the bustling crowd, and soon it became one of the more popular spells used within the Ministry.
What was genius about the charm was that it was only the caster who could summon the doors. That would mean that no burglar could actually enter any of the rooms without the caster's word. It was an instant hit at first; but the problem with the spell soon emerged. Despite the genius behind the charm, anyone could soon make a door anywhere; and soon enough the spell was banned and branded a thievery spell. However, the Ministry didn't take away Wagg's earnings; gaining a popular belief that the Ministry was secretly using it within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"How on earth did you implement the spell?" Holsworthy asked; he knew that Bideford would catch his meaning. If he knew of Holsworthy's exploits, then it would only mean one thing.
"A lot of time and money, laddy. That Wagg fellow had a hefty price." Bideford responded, turning the blackened knob and opening the doorway. "And here we are."
The lounge was a small circular room, with a hanging chandelier covered in fake jewels and coloured cloth. There was an ornate fireplace opposite the door, molded at it's edges in fine statues of exotic animals and rare magical creatures. Holsworthy knew some of them; a Niffler and a Thestral, but the rest just seemed like extraordinary horses and insects. The fire itself was a few single ashen logs burning their last. Nimple hurried over and began blowing on it exhaustively.
Along the wall of the circled room, there were paintings of ancestors, presumably Bideford's as per their amber hair; they looked over to Holsworthy curiously, perhaps intrigued by this new visitor. The only window was a rectangular width-side up window hidden by curtains, but Holsworthy could tell that it was still night outside. Within the centre, standing proud on a tattered floral carpet, a circular mahogany table surrounded by seven individual chairs, each with a small stack of parchment in front of them. A small clear glass vase with dead flowers was centre of the table, and by extension the entire room. It was certainly a characteristic of a meeting; all that was missing was those to meet.
"Not really a lounge, is it?" Bideford asked rhetorically, smiling to himself. "More of a drawing room, I suppose."
Bideford strolled over to one of the chairs, the place next to the fireplace, and yanked it from under the table; making a horrible dragging sound.
"This is you, laddy." Bideford offered, grey eye to green eye.
Holsworthy shiftily moved over to the chair. Bideford grinned again, and moved over to what was presumably his chair, which was nearest to the door. Holsworthy slowly sat down, putting his satchel underneath the table, and drew his wand. Pointing it at the wilted bundle of flowers, Holsworthy uttered: "Surculo".
The dead flowers suddenly shot up, turning from ashen grey to vibrant green, with petals blossoming from their ends. It was the Plant-Regeneration charm, created by Holsworthy during his tenure of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. He found it amazing how many times young witches and wizards killed plants with their development stage. Bideford clapped enthusiastically.
"Nicely done, laddy." Bideford congratulated, though he leaned in. "Perhaps you could teach me that spell? The forest round here isn't exactly the most beautiful…"
Before Holsworthy could answer, a sharp bell rung from all around the room. Nimple jumped at the sound, whilst Bideford again grinned widely.
"That must be the next one. Nimple, go and fetch the visitor, and get that blasted fire going will you? Hallway." Bideford announced, watching the house-elf saunter past. Nimple clicked his fingers and the door opened slowly, but as soon as Nimple disappeared into that blank darkness, the door slammed shut again.
"You were going to say?" Bideford asked, sighing.
"Oh… erm…" Holsworthy mumbled. "I can… but it'll take time… I know you're really… er… skilled and everything but I…"
Bideford laughed again, slamming the table with a palm, vibrating nearly the entire room. Some of the figures in the paintings clutched their ears.
"Not to worry, laddy. I really only specialise in offensive spells, not bloody gardening ones!" Bideford jokingly responded, winking at Holsworthy. "But don't worry either way, I've brought you here for something a little more exciting than growing plants!"
Holsworthy frowned. Bideford's nature seemed rather odd to him. If this legendary dueller was this jovial in simple conversations, what on earth was he like in battle? More importantly, what could be this meeting about?
Before Holsworthy could ask anything, the door opened with a slam, and Nimple sidled through the doorway. Though what was behind the door was dark, Holsworthy could make out four other figures through the doorway. Nimple went up to Bideford, bowing low.
"Master," Nimple announced. "The rest of the guests have arrived."