CHAPTER EIGHT

CASTELOBRUXO

The week between Christmas and New Year dragged on for Harry. Having been forced to take some time off work, there was a constant brewing anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

First of all, the investigation was just sitting there. Yes, he had sent instructions for his team to research some things; Kendrick and Cavey, being Muggle-born, had been instructed to research whatever they could about Dabria's branch of magic or any other similar magic in Muggle tales and legends—-it was a tactic that had worked for Harry before, when tracking down the rogue wizard who was a copycat of old werewolf slaughterers, most of which were only recorded in Muggle legends—-but without him being there, he had to rely on updates every other day and the results were often unsatisfactory.

Second of all, the curse he had been blasted with had evolved some; over the first few days, he noticed that whenever he tried to cast a lot of spells in a short amount of time, he would get lethargic and have to sit down. This made Harry feel useless. Ginny's words of encouragement didn't help much, despite her good intentions. Harry often woke up with a headache and fell asleep feeling nauseous. It was like a bout of flu he could not shake.

The New Year arrived with sub zero temperatures and howling winds. The weather seemed to match Harry's blustery mood. He spent his first morning back in the Ministry barking orders at the Aurors to double up on all security measures, as well as a warning that whoever was responsible for the next security mishap would be relieved of their duties.

Harry was making little to no progress on his research on Dabria's magic, and it seemed any information there was to learn he had already learned.

He angrily ate through lunch, more to keep his energy up than a desire to enjoy food, then dove back into his work. Before he knew it, it was four o'clock, and while he'd filed a lot of paperwork, he had gotten very little done.

He wanted to get back out on the field, but there was no field to go out on.

Not on this continent, anyway.

A ball of frustration knotted in Harry's stomach.

Sure, he could go back to South America to try and find out more about… well, anything… but he had not used magic all day and he finally had the nerve to admit to himself that he was afraid of how well he would cope if he did need to extensively use magic.

The first true wonder of his life; now his curse, figuratively and literally.

The ball of frustration tightened.

At twenty past four, Aurors took their turns heading into his office to tell him how unsuccessful their research was. Kendrick and Bridger-Cookson had signed off on a missing persons case. They had found the missing wizard wandering in a forest in pyjamas and sandals. They planned to interview him tomorrow, after his treatment at St Mungos. King and Cavey would be working a case tonight, investigating something that Harry had forgotten the details of. Petty crime didn't seem important now; he needed answers.

By five o'clock, the ball in Harry's stomach had tightened so much it burst, and to stop himself from snapping at someone and regretting it later, Harry left the office quietly and wandered around the streets of London alone.

He had nowhere to go, but he didn't want to go home yet. His mind was too wrapped up in negativity to take it home with him.

He needed someone to talk to; someone to speak out loud with about what he was feeling. The problem was, given his position, there weren't many options for him. He didn't want to burden Ginny, and the Aurors certainly couldn't have their leader exposing all his weakness to them. Hermione and Ron were his best friends, but they weren't kids anymore. They both had busy lives and other priorities, and weren't as readily available as they were in their Hogwarts days.

And then an idea struck Harry.

Neville, hi. Sorry to interrupt whatever you're doing, just wondered if you fancied a quick one at The Leaky Cauldron? If you're too busy, I understand.

With a flick of his wand, Harry's stag burst from his wand and stampeded out of sight.

Harry wondered for a moment whether he could even achieve a Patronus message. Perhaps his stag would dissipate halfway to Neville.

However, a few minutes later, Harry looked up as the light of a silver lion illuminated the street he had just turned on to.

Definitely! I'll meet you there in twenty minutes. Get a round in!

And so it was that twenty minutes later, Harry sat inside the Leaky Cauldron waiting for Neville, with two butterbeers on the table. He had considered apparating here—but when he realised he was only ten minutes away and he didn't want to face the possibility of the curse causing him to splinch or end up in Romania somewhere—he decided to walk.

When Neville walked up to the table five minutes later, he looked very red. At first Harry assumed it was because of the weather, but then he thought he sensed a frustration in his expression too.

However, when Neville spoke, it was with his familiar, chipper tone.

"Hi, Harry. How are you?"

"I'm hanging in there."

Neville sat down opposite Harry, and Harry slid a butterbeer over to him.

"Thanks. Aye, bet you've had a rough week or so. How's the medicine been?"

"Stops most of the nausea, headaches tend to stick around though." Harry shrugged.

The small talk continued for a couple of minutes, while they drank deep from their warm beverages to combat the cold the weather had left in them. Harry finished his glass and plopped it on the table.

"What about you? How's things?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, everything is going well at Hogwarts. I was able to come home for a few days, that's why I'm able to be here on short notice," Neville explained.

"I needed this. We don't get to just… relax anymore," Harry commented.

"I know what you mean…" Neville nodded, "Stress from work?"

"Among other things, I'll tell you all about it once you bring the next round in."

Neville smirked, "Be right back."

Neville returned with two fresh glasses a minute later.

"Right then, let's hear the worst."

"Muffliato," Harry flicked his wand.

Harry felt his face flush as nothing happened.

"Muffliato."

Neville flicked his wand and the spell worked, its familiar buzz becoming apparent. Now, they could speak without the risk of eavesdroppers.

"Thanks. Neville, I've got nothing to go on. I have no idea who is attacking muggles, why or how. I have a vague idea it has something to do with an old legend, of which there is scant information available. And anytime I want to ask a question about anything, I have to travel halfway across the world and find someone in South America who might, possibly, have heard of the legend. And to top it all off, I'm not even sure if learning more about this legend will even help me. But it's the only lead I have."

Neville took a moment, then replied:

"A lead is a lead. Explore all options. You never know when you'll find something and it'll just click into place," he reasoned.

Harry sipped his butterbeer with sarcastically raised eyebrows.

"Yeah, maybe… and usually I'd be more than willing to take detours to Brazil. But now I have this curse to worry about. What if it affects my magic when I need it most? What if I try to zap to Brazil and leave my arm behind?"

"All valid concerns," Neville grinned, with mock wisdom, "but that curse is with you, whether you like it or not. And if you ever want to get rid of it, you're probably gonna be in those situations. You can constantly worry about something bad happening, and then if it does, you'll just suffer anyway. Point is, there's no point worrying about what ifs if you can't control them."

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I know you're right…" Harry agreed, "Looks like I'll have to arrange another visit to South America then. Need to find out exactly how to get to Castelobruxo. See if I can meet up with the headmaster. If anyone will know anything, or at least know where to look, it's gotta be him, right?"

"As good a shout as any," Neville shrugged as he finished his glass, "Got time for one more?"

"Just one more, then I suppose I should probably go home before Ginny rips me a new one."

Neville laughed, and returned with another round moments later.

"How's Hannah?" Harry asked.

Harry had never known Hannah Abbott all that well. After school, they remained acquaintances at best and even though he had seen her many times over the years, she still wasn't a very prominent figure in Harry's life and having realised he'd gone about an hour without even asking Neville about her, he felt bad.

"She's fine," Neville said.

Harry noticed the momentary drop in his expression.

"Everything good with you two?" Harry asked.

Neville glanced up at him from his glass with a "oh, so you noticed" kind of look.

"Nothing's wrong, per se," Neville replied.

"But?"

"But we've been drifting apart for a while, to be honest. Just happens, you know."

Harry nodded, even though he had no idea what Neville meant.

"Sorry to hear that, mate…"

"Nah, don't worry about it. I'm at peace with it. To be honest, it's been a long time coming. I'm glad you contacted me, actually. We had a bit of a bust up earlier and we both spoke some truths we've been circling around for a while."

"You didn't split?"

"No, not yet. But I think that might happen tonight. Probably for the best. But anyway, let's talk about something else. No point ruining our last drink. How about the Cannons, eh?"

Harry thought Neville was perhaps embarrassed to have overshared, so Harry joined in on the quidditch talk. The Chudley Cannons were soaring ahead in the league, having won eight of their last nine games. They recounted a few tales, from quidditch to Hogwarts memories, and twenty minutes later, bid their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Harry considered how he would get home. He could walk, but that would take another hour, or he could call for the Knight Bus and get there in five minutes... but that would involve unwanted attention from strangers.

Or you could just apparate and be there instantly.

The voice in his head sounded a lot like Neville tonight. And "Neville" was right. He wasn't going to be too scared to use magic because of this curse. It was going to drag him down either way, so he may as well put up a fight.

On that confident thought, he turned into the air and apparated home.

~:-)

Three days into the New Year, Ginny and Harry arrived at Platform 9 and ¾, with the kids in tow, to send them back to school. Harry had asked Williamson to contact Castelobruxo and arrange for a meeting with the headmaster by the end of the month if possible. After reminding the children to behave and sending them on their way, Ginny went home with Lily while Harry headed back into the office.

What he had not expected when he arrived back was to see Williamson knock on his office door moments after he had sat down, with a letter in his hand and a big grin on his face.

"Come in," Harry called.

Williamson bustled in, red ponytail bouncing on his robes shoulder, a scroll in his hand.

"Harry, great news. We've had a response from Kondo already."

"Blimey, that was quick."

"Well, I did tell him it was of the utmost urgency," Williamson said, handing Harry the scroll.

Harry unrolled the scroll and weighed it down with his sneakoscope.

To Mr Williamson,

In response to your request, I am happy for Mr Harry Potter to visit whenever he is ready. Please allow me twenty four hours notice so that I may make myself available. Please find attached instructions on how to get to Castelobruxo.

I look forward to meeting Mr Potter and assisting where I can in his investigation.

Sincerely,

Mbwana Kondo

Headmaster of Castelobruxo Academy

"This is brilliant. Good work, Williamson. Send a response telling him we will arrive the day after tomorrow. And send Kingsley a message, I'm going to need him to allow Ministry privileges again," Harry instructed, handing the scroll back to Williamson.

The tall man nodded and left the room without another word. Harry smiled to himself. It was about time something went smoothly for him in this investigation.

~:-)

Two days later, after spending hours corresponding with multiple people the night before, Harry had acquired a team for the trip. While it was true that all international trips would require Harry to bring at least one other person with him, he couldn't help but admit to himself that fears over his curse had caused him to be extra cautious.

Williamson would be joining Harry, and he had managed to get Luna to agree to come on very short notice. While he couldn't think of an exact reason why he decided to bring her, he certainly thought that having a fluent speaker of Portuguese would be useful, if only to get them to Castelobruxo.

It had been made apparent by the instructions from Kondo that getting into Castelobruxo was in and of itself an ordeal. They would have to travel to a small village on the edge of one side of the Amazonian rainforests. From there, they would have to take a portkey into the surrounding area of Castelobruxo, and take a guided trip into the depths of the borders of the school. It had been arranged for Castelobruxo's Herbology professor, named Cézar Neves, to meet them at the rendezvous point at midday. With the time difference, that meant Harry would have to leave at three o'clock in the afternoon to arrive on time.

Finally, also joining them would be Hermione. Harry had not intended to actually invite her, since her job kept her too busy for trips like this; but once Hermione had heard they were going to visit Castelobruxo, she insisted she would be joining him.

When they left, they took a portkey from Harry's office to a small Brazilian village near Manaus. The village held nothing of note to Harry in the mere minutes they were there. They stood exactly on the spot the portkey had sent them and within moments, their guide arrived.

He had short, slicked back dark hair. A wiry moustache, tanned skin and was missing at least two teeth from what Harry could see.

"Cézar Neves," he introduced himself. Harry shook his hand, recognising the name Kondo had given.

"Harry Potter, very nice to meet you," Harry introduced himself, "This is David Williamson, Luna Scamander and Hermione Granger."

Neves nodded, looking around at Harry's group with a round of half-hearted waves.

"If you are not waiting on anything, shall we go then?" Nevez suggested, eagerly.

Harry nodded, "Let's go."

Nevez walked to a nearby table and pulled out a quidditch glove.

"Portus," he said, then looked around, "Everyone."

He offered the glove and everyone put a hand to it. For the second time in five minutes, they were pulled into oblivion and spat out somewhere in the rainforest. The air was thick and humid, an earthy smell so pungent it was almost nauseating. There was so much noise suddenly; humming, thrumming, buzzing and chirping came from all directions.

Nevez looked around at the group and apparently saw all of them sharing Harry's expression of disdain and discomfort.

"You'll get used to it," Nevez chuckled, "And we're not far from the school gates. It's easy to find… if you know the way."

Nevez guided them through the brush, following an unseen trail. After about twenty minutes—-where Harry had already been freaked out by a large spider hanging from a tree and large cockroach-like creatures clustering near rocks—-they finally, Harry was relieved to see, came to a clearing. Here, there was a large, circular platform on the ground made from wood and steel. Four series of steps gave access to the platform and each of them matched up with a corresponding path leading deeper into the rainforest.

"Come up here," Nevez instructed and the four of them followed him onto the platform.

"There are four possible paths to the school. Only one of them is open on any given day. This is where we decide the path we take. Anyone care to decide?" Nevez asked.

Nevez had a grin on his face; he was excited, curious, about what these foreigners would think of their puzzle.

Harry looked ahead of him. Each of the four paths had a wooden arch between two trees, under said arches were small, humanoid creatures that Harry recognised as caipora. Green skin, red hair and eyes. They floated around like spirits and usually spoke in high-pitched echoing voices.

"The caiporas know which path. We have to ask each one and find out," Harry realised.

"That's right… and caipora are exceptionally good at reading people. Mischievous, sometimes chaotically so, but they first and foremost protect the school and take the utmost pride in that," Nevez explained.

"So, what… Do I just ask them?" Harry asked.

"Well, unless you want to spend the day here," Nevez said, cheerfully.

"Caipora, which one of you guards the correct path?" Harry asked.

The replies came like echoes, drifting in the air.

"Rude!"

"We have names, you know…"

"Um… sorry about him," Hermione cut in, "What are your names?"

"Our names are our colours…"

"Colourful!"

"Look, on the arches," Luna pointed.

Harry saw it too. The wooden arches were now painted different colours. From left to right, they were red, blue, yellow and green.

"Red, are you guarding the right path?" Harry asked.

"Well, we're not just going to tell you…"

"Honestly, this man is no fun!"

Nevez leaned into the struggling Harry.

"Try to make it… fun," Nevez suggested quietly.

An idea came to Harry.

"How about we play a game?" Harry asked.

"Game?"

"Ooh!"

"I like games…"

"I'll ask you all one at a time for a riddle. And if I get the riddle right, you tell me if your path is the right one."

The voices burst in excitement.

"Oh, yes!"

"Let's do it!"

"Riddles in the house!"

Harry suppressed a laugh.

"Red, you go first."

"At night they come without being fetched; by day they are lost without being stolen."

Harry considered the riddle. At first, when hearing the words, he thought he would be stuck almost immediately, but then - he suddenly knew.

"Stars!" Harry called.

Red "yipee'd!" and rolled around in the air, but then sighed, "my path will not lead you to Castelobruxo."

"What about you, Blue?" Harry asked.

"I have cities but no houses. I have mountains but no trees. I have water, but no fish."

Harry's mind raced. He was stumped.

"Er -" Harry started but had no idea what to say.

"A map!" Hermione called from behind.

Of course! Harry thought.

He turned to Hermione, "Brilliant, Hermione!"

"Mine is not the path you want," Blue announced.

Blue cheered and Harry turned to Yellow.

"Yellow…"

"What belongs to you, but everyone else uses it?"

Harry struggled again. Why did he suggest riddles? He was alright, but certainly no expert.

"Your name," Luna piped up.

Yellow flew high in the air with a giggle.

"Absolutely right. Because my path is absolutely the right path."

"Nice one, Luna," Harry grinned.

"That was fun," Luna beamed.

Harry turned to Nevez.

"Well, that was something."

"Something indeed," Nevez grinned, "Good job."

They followed down the steps leading to the path Yellow was guarding. As they passed the arch, the caipora disappeared from view, turning invisible again.

"It's not far from here now, a couple of minutes," Nevez announced, "Professor Kondo will be waiting for us at the gates."

Harry had only needed to speak to headmasters from two other international magical schools in his ten years as Head Auror, and neither communications had gone particularly well.

The first was Durmstrang Institute in his first year. There had been evidence of an illegal smuggling trade somehow working through the school. Harry had contacted then-Headmaster Boris Chusyev to help him in the investigation. Harry had heard that Durmstrang had become more tolerable since the war, but the Headmaster refused to help and ended communication abruptly. Since Harry had no jurisdiction outside of Britain, he had to give it up.

The second time was five years later, when the disappearance of a Hogwarts student led to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

While Marcus Bradley was polite enough, and helped Harry with the investigation, when they discovered it was a case of students from both schools essentially eloping to be together, Bradley suddenly didn't want to be associated with such a scandal and refused to help anymore. Bradley eventually lost his job in 2016, and Agilbert Fontaine was announced as the new Headmaster. Harry imagined perhaps the stress of the job was just too much for Bradley.

Nevertheless, his experiences with headmasters of other schools so far played on his mind when the first meeting of Mbwana Kondo loomed so close. They were minutes away now, he had been told moments ago. The correspondence through his letter had seemed polite enough, but that may not have even been written by Kondo, but rather a secretary, for all he knew.

Harry knew that the attitude of the headmaster towards him, not only a member of law enforcement, but one from another country, would decide the worthiness of this trip. He needed all the information he could get and needed to record as much of it as possible for future reference. A nagging doubt in his head had convinced him Kondo would not agree to that much access.

They had reached a clearing in the jungle. There was a wide berth where the flora was minimal and the floor was a soily path.

"This is the marker point. Anything past here is Castelobruxo," Nevez pointed down the path, "We follow that path down there, turn the corner and travel for ten minutes to arrive at the school gates."

Harry looked ahead. Following the path the trees narrowed and the clearing closed. He followed the green upwards to find the school. The golden square edifice stuck out of the sea of green, like a treasure chest half-buried in sand. It was gloriously mystical. For a moment, Harry was eleven again, feeling that same feeling of seeing Hogwarts for the first time.

The group started walking towards Nevez's chosen path, when Nevez suddenly stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and watch out for caipora around here. Some are fine like the ones we passed earlier. Others, well... they like to be a nuisance, but a Confundus charm will deal with them most of the time."

They walked for a couple more minutes, through a path surrounded by thick trees on both sides, until they reached yet another opening, which gave them direct access to the entrance grounds of the ancient school.

Harry was surprised to find that Mbwana Kondo was exceptionally short. Harry ventured a guess he was no taller than five foot one, but he nevertheless held an intimidation in his power, that radiated from him, through his piercing eyes an majestically square, grey beard. Harry thought he would not be miscast as a king and had to remind himself that he was meeting a headmaster of a school, not royalty. Kondo thanked Nevez for escorting them, and Harry, Luna and Hermione echoed that thanks, before Nevez shuffled back towards the castle, his green robes gliding as he moved.

"Mr Potter," Kondo stretched out his short arm. His voice was low and full of bass, which surprised Harry further.

"Professor Mbwana Kondo," Harry said with all the respect he could muster, shaking his hand heartily with a smile on his face. Kondo had a firm grip. It told Harry, kindly but not jovially, "this is my school and you are my guests."

Harry decided quite quickly that he liked Mbwana Kondo. His English was fantastic, making the worries of a language barrier quickly forgotten. He was courteous and friendly to Harry and his friends as they made small talk, heading towards the grand staircase of the castle, covered on both sides by large trees and shrubbery.

"I must say, this is the first time I have had contact with a member of the Auror department since the war… and even then, no-one came to visit me," Kondo said cheerfully.

"That's a good thing," Harry replied, politely.

"Are you suggesting your visit now is not a good thing?" Kondo asked.

Harry smiled wryly.

"To visit the school, see how magic works in other places, it's an amazing thing. I just wish I were visiting under better circumstances."

Kondo didn't reply other than a polite nod as they reached the top of the staircase. Harry's breathing had become laboured. The hot sun was beating down on his dark robes, causing him to sweat profusely. The steps leading to the castle - or was it a temple? - were brutally challenging for Harry.

Hermione and Luna seemed to be handling it alright and Kondo was very much used to it, Harry imagined.

Harry pulled his flask from his pocket. Empty. Frustrated, Harry popped the lid and pointed his wand inside. Aguamenti, he thought. Luckily, he didn't have to fight with his curse right now and the flask filled right up with ice-cold water. Harry downed the entire flask and then looked around to see Kondo chuckling to himself.

"Some of the older students have nicknamed those steps Escadia Para o Inferno."

Harry stared at Kondo blankly, but behind him, he heard Luna giggle.

"That's quite amusing," she said, airily.

Kondo leaned in, "It means stairway to hell."

Harry grinned as the two caipora guards at the door magically opened it, revealing the grandness inside.

Harry had done some research on the school the night before and had remembered some key facts about the school. Castelobruxo produced many graduates highly advanced in Herbology and Magizoology. He knew students spent eight years here, one more than the seven at Hogwarts. The school tenure was split into two four year blocks. The first block, from age 11 to 15, they would be in high school. And from 16 to 18 (with optional years up to 20), they would enter higher education. Starting their fifth year, they would choose five specialist subjects, most of which were not available in high school.

Harry also knew, and found as perhaps the biggest difference between Castelobruxo and Hogwarts, was that there were no Castelobruxo houses, nor any kind of sorting ceremony. They didn't split the students into groups, except for by year and gender, for the purposes of dormitories.

And still, despite reeling all this knowledge from his head, when he fully absorbed the inside of the entrance to Castelobruxo, a million more questions sprouted in his head.

"This is…" Harry started, but quickly lost his train of thought as he stared in awe.

From outside, the castle (or temple, Harry still hadn't decided… did it matter?) had looked something like a golden, block pyramid taken by nature and surrounded in the jungle. Inside the castle, it was like a haven, like paradise.

The entrance was a huge chamber, with three sets of stairs going to higher floors. In the middle of the entrance hall were large, circular pools, decorative foliage for the grand spectacle: a gigantic, ornate fountain. The chute of the fountain stood tall with metal jungle-leaves dropping down acting as checkpoints for the water to hit on its cascading journey back to the pool.

Harry saw one side of the entrance hall, where he imagined the house point hourglasses would be at Hogwarts, were instead trophy cabinets. Harry couldn't see the details of anything from where he was, but he distinctly saw a trophy emblazoned by a golden snitch.

So, they do have competitions, Harry noted.

Vines, leaves and other foliage crept up the walls in many areas for different reasons. Some formed into a torch holder, some bloomed into delightful green and yellow flowers. Even though Harry knew he was inside the castle, he still felt as if he was outside. There was an earthy, planty breeze in the air that he had only experienced while in forests or, as Harry was now realising, jungles.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Kondo smiled.

Harry's eyes focused back on the snitch trophy.

"How do you have Quidditch competitions without houses?" Harry blurted out. A moment later, he chided himself and remembered he was no longer a student, but the Head of the bloody Auror Department.

Kondo's eyes glistened, "Ah yes, I did hear you were quite the seeker in your Hogwarts days, Mr Potter. How many school championships did you win?"

"Three," Harry shared, trying not to sound like he was bragging.

"Well, to answer your question," Kondo continued, "to enter the annual Quidditch tournament, the students simply register their teams. A full team and up to five reserves. Then, they are drawn into a thirty-two team tournament."

Hermione gaped, "How do you have time to do a thirty-two team tournament within the school year?"

"It's quite simple. We play every match in a given round concurrently, so there are only five days of quidditch throughout the year."

"You have enough room for sixteen concurrent quidditch matches?" Harry asked.

Kondo grinned. He twirled on the spot to face his visitors.

"Please allow me to give you a quick tour of Castelobruxo. Then we can talk about business. After all, it's not every day you come to visit the hardest school to find in the world."

"That would be great, Professor. Lead the way," Harry grinned.

"Fantastic!" Kondo beamed and beckoned them forward with him as he turned to the upper eastern corner of the room, where Harry saw that what he thought was a door was actually the archway to a long hallway, to which Harry could see another door on the other side. Kondo gained some distance as he walked faster than Harry had expected, but still beckoned them enthusiastically.

"Harry, what are we doing? Shouldn't we be getting to more important matters?" Hermione said to him with a hushed tone.

"Oh, come now Hermione," Harry said, "Don't pretend you aren't as excited, if not more excited than I am."

Hermione tried and failed to suppress a grin.

"I certainly am," Luna added, having given no hint that she was actually listening to the conversation.

"Besides, we may learn a lot of useful things about how magic works in these parts; in this culture. Valuable information."

"Alright, alright," Hermione conceded.

They headed towards the end of the hallway, which was quite unremarkable with its stone walls and lit torches. A small, childlike voice in the back of Harry's head wondered if the literal light at the end of this tunnel would be a metaphorical one too. His mind raced about what could be on the other side, that was definitely outside, as the sun glared in, swirling dust in the entrance.

When they finally arrived at the arch, they stepped through. Harry put his hand up over his eyes to cover them from the sun's blinding light. Then, his surroundings came into focus and Harry gasped out loud.

They were on the other side of the school now, and had just exited through the back exit. It had led to a magnificent chunk of land, bordered by the raging jungle, but cut down and cleared out for this new purpose. Quidditch pitch after quidditch pitch stretched for acres. Each of them were surrounded by spectator towers much like the one at Hogwarts, though each field was more open so that you could quite easily see other matches going on on other fields.

"This is incredible," Harry said.

"I think so too," Kondo assured him, "But so far, you've only seen the ground floor of Castelobruxo."

"How many floors do you have?" Harry asked.

"Eleven," Kondo replied, "But don't worry… we don't have moving staircases but we do have our own little quirks of traversing the castle."

Kondo quickly showed the group a long row of greenhouses in the distance and informed them of what Harry already knew: Herbology was a well-mastered craft in Castelobruxo. Then they headed back inside and behind the fountain. There was another arch, but this one led to only a small alcove, home to a large elevator.

"Lifts," Harry chuckled, "Why couldn't Hogwarts think of that?"

"The school is split like the year system. The higher education students spend most of their time on the upper floors," Kondo explained.

Kondo took them through the floors; he showed them the first floor, home to the Great Hall and the dormitories. The second floor, which held Transfiguration and Potions. The third floor held Defence Against The Dark Arts and the infirmary. The fourth, the library, Non-Magical Studies and Divination. The fifth, History of Magic and Charms.

"The upper section of Castelobruxo consists mostly of advanced classes. We specialise in many fields," Kondo continued, "I won't keep you all day by showing you everything but my office, as well as Astronomy, are on the eleventh floor, so we'll have to pass them all anyway."

"On the sixth floor, we have classes in Magical Combat and Mind Studies. Seventh is Advanced Potions and Advanced Transfiguration. Seventh is Magizoology. Eighth is Advanced Charms and Curse-Breaking, as well as Magical Arts and Humanities. Ninth floor is Ancient Magic Studies and finally, the tenth floor is Elemental Magic."

"What a wonderful curriculum," Hermione gushed.

"Thank you," Kondo smiled.

When they finally arrived at the eleventh floor, and the gates of the elevator (which had blocked most of the ascent from view) opened to reveal the floor, Harry found himself in awe again. Like the ceiling of the great hall, the ceiling of this uppermost floor was also enchanted to reveal the sky. However, that same enchantment moved all the way down the walls, so that it was as if the top floor was simply out in the open air. Harry swore he felt a light breeze. He wasn't sure if it was actually the view from outside, or a recreation of it, but Harry could see all the way own to the now small quidditch pitches, the rows of glasshouses for Herbology and the opening into the jungle which Harry assumed is where the practical work of Magizoology would take place.

This place was astounding. He loved Hogwarts more than any other place in the world, but Castelobruxo certainly gave a compelling argument for second place.

Kondo led them to an ornate door with gold rims that opened to reveal his office. It was spacious and oddly reminiscent of Dumbledore's office, with an array of strange, varied objects hanging from the ceiling and standing on shelves that Harry had little to no understanding of.

Behind his desk was a three-storied bookshelf, with a ladder that could glide from one side to the other standing at the end of them all, stretching all the way to the ceiling, which had a window which shone in most of the natural light in the room.

Kondo gestured for the four seats he had lined up on one side of his desk.

"Please, take a seat."

They all did so and with a quick wave of his wand, four glasses appeared on the desk filled with water and ice. As Harry reached for the cup gratefully, Kondo sat down on the other side of the great, oak desk.

"Alright. The pleasantries are out of the way. It's time for business. I hope you won't be offended when I ask, what unfortunate event do I have to thank for your visit?"

Harry raised his brows quickly to express his understanding.

"Not at all. It's a bit of a long story. I'll try to keep it as short as possible."

Harry placed his glass back at the desk.

"There have been … odd events in Britain. It started as Muggles - non-magical people - getting caught up in some kind of trance and rioting in the streets. After that, it became apparent that the Muggles themselves were using magic, seemingly under the control of someone."

"I'm sorry," Kondo interrupted, "I pride myself on having exceptional English but did I really understand you correctly? Non-magical people … using magic?"

Harry nodded.

"That's right. I understand your reaction. It defies reason by its very definition. But they were. After much research, and a lot of dead ends, we discovered that an ancient branch of magic, originally from here in South America, was said to have specialised in the 'giving' and 'taking' of life into the soul."

"Life of the soul as in… magic," Kondo replied.

"Yes," Harry said and remembered with mild annoyance Hermione had needed to explain it to Harry for him to grasp its meaning, "We believe someone has somehow gotten access to this ancient branch of magic and is using it to give muggles magic."

"Is it permanent?" Kondo asked, curiously.

"No, quite the contrary," Harry said and he opened his mokeskin pouch, pulling out what he had now dubbed as the whispering wand, even though had not whispered since the day Harry had found it.

"It seems that only with access to this wand and exact replicas like it, were they able to use magic," Harry explained, placing the wand on the desk.

"This is a recreation of the wand belonging to the legendary witch Dabria," Kondo said.

Harry laughed out loud.

"Did I say something funny?" Kondo asked, confused.

"Not really, but I find it funny how you instantly knew that… and how long it took us to figure it out. Maybe we should have come to you first," Harry chuckled.

"How could there be many replicas of an obscure, legendary Brazilian wand?" Kondo asked, to no-one in particular.

"Here's the thing. We've found out from wandmakers that this wand, and all the replicas like it, are not true wands. They have no core."

Kondo processed the information, but he didn't seem to understand it.

"That's… odd."

"Very," Harry agreed, "And that's pretty much where we're up to. We think someone is using Dabria's fabled grimoire to perform all this magic we thought was impossible. We need to learn as much as we can about Dabria and that branch of magic. And -"

Harry hesitated. He still hadn't decided up until this point whether he wanted to divulge his own curse to Kondo.

"Is there something else?" Kondo asked.

"This is sensitive information," Harry said, before continuing, "but the perpetrator has put a curse on me. And I believe the curse and perhaps its counter-curse, reside in this ancient branch of magic."

"I see," Kondo considered Harry, "Do you know the details of what this curse does?"

"It's draining me of my magic. There are times when I am hindered, or unable to perform magic. An unfortunate circumstance, given my job," Harry explained.

"Indeed," Kondo nodded, "Very unfortunate. It sounds like a curse that powerful would need to be sealed to fully take effect."

"So I've been told," Harry nodded, "How much do you know about Dabria and her magic?"

"I won't pretend to be an expert," Kondo replied, "It's true I studied her among other Brazilian legends. I can recognise her wand and I know a few facts, but I certainly don't know much more than that. She was a witch around in the 17th century, who focused on a branch of magic involving the giving and taking of magic. But that was to and from wizards. I've never heard of it working on non-magical people in the legends."

Kondo signalled to the bookshelves behind him.

"We have many books here with information that might help you. Some of the books in the library on the fifth floor may help you, and you can take any of them home with you if you wish. However, I have more books here in my personal collection. Three of them I think could be helpful to you, and you may explore them at your leisure. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to leave with them. Unlike the ones in the library, these are one of a kind antiques."

"I understand," Harry said, "Thank you very much for your help, Professor."

Kondo nodded and waved his own wand over his head. Instantly, he began to levitate at increasing speed up and up. He stopped at the highest bookshelf, the ladder laying ignored in the corner. Kondo pulled out two books with his wand, then came down a few feet, waved another book out, then came back down to the ground, the three books landing neatly stacked on top of one another on the desk.

"You'll need these too," Kondo said, putting a small pile of clear plastic lenses on the desk from his drawer.

"The lenses will translate anything you want to read into your own language. I don't suppose any of you are fluent in Portuguese."

"Only one of us," Harry chuckled, grabbing a pair of lenses, "and it's not me. Thank you."

"Unfortunately, I do have a few errands to run," Kondo said, "but the evening feast is in four hours and we welcome you to join us. Until then, you may use this office and the library at your leisure. I could accompany any of you down there if you want?"

Harry looked at the stacked books in the office. These were the artefacts. These were the ones he wasn't allowed to take with him. That told him, these books were his priority.

"You two go ahead," he told Hermione and Luna, "And you Williamson, if you want. I'm going to dive into these books here."

"Alright, Harry. We'll see you at the evening feast?" Hermione asked.

"See you then," Harry nodded. Luna and Hermione left and Williamson stayed behind as Kondo closed the door behind them.

"Didn't fancy a trip to the library?" Harry asked.

Williamson shrugged.

"It's like Kondo said… the books in the library are the boring ones."

Harry grinned.

"Let's see… The Lost Entrails of Ancient Magic by Timothy Sosa, Guides in Purity by Zelina Varela and Myths of Lost Time by Trevor Bruno. Which one do you fancy?"

"Last one sounds the most interesting," Williamson shrugged.

Harry passed over the red leather-bound Myths of Lost Time.

"Just go through it… anything on Dabria, anything about curses or spells that give or take away magic, let me know."

"Right, you are."

Williamson took the book and opened it to the last page, looking at the bottom of the page.

"Three hundred and ninety four pages? Give me strength."

Harry grinned again as he pulled open his blue book Guides in Purity.

An hour later, Harry felt like he was truly wasting his time. Williamson had gotten over a hundred pages into his book and he seemed entrenched, though he reported nothing back to Harry.

The book Harry was reading wasn't boring, but it wasn't giving him the information he needed. It spoke about branches of magic that could heal or otherwise purify. This of course felt promising to Harry because of the prospect of finding a counter curse, but so far the book hadn't mentioned curses a single time in the eighty pages he had skimmed.

The book also had a lot of spiritual mumbo-jumbo which while Harry wasn't outright denying could arguably be useful, it seemed far more likely that the author just had a much more dreamy idea of what spiritual experiences are. The writer reminded him vaguely of Professor Trelawney, which he found particularly odd as he didn't think he'd ever actually read anything she'd written.

He felt a rush in his chest when turned the page to find a chapter entitled Curses.

Finally, he thought.

Harry skimmed through the book's explanation of curses. Some things that triggered recognition only confirmed what he already knew.

Oftentimes, long-term curses will wear off unless they are sealed by the caster… Curses can only be removed by the caster, or as a result of the caster's death… modern curses in the branches of South American magic have included the ability to remove a victim's magic entirely.

Harry froze as he read the line. "Modern curses"? How old was this book? Hadn't Kondo explained Dabria was powerful in the 17th century? Harry followed the trail, looking through the next section of the book until he found a page with exactly what he was looking for.

Curses involving soul magic

Over the past ten years we have seen a sharp increase in this kind of magic. While no-one has access to the source of said magic, it is believed Dabria is the woman who wields it. These curses are always similar in nature; flu-like symptoms, a partial or complete deference of magic. Upon being sealed, the victim becomes an Impoverished.

While there are branches of purity magic that can prevent this curse from being sealed, it is not possible to lift the curse. Only the caster can do this. However, there are ways to call on purification magic to delay your fate. Calling upon purification magic will be the strongest defense against this curse being sealed, though experimentation is still ongoing upon publication of this text.

As discussed in the opening of this text, there are no specific enchantments to learn; the goal is to call upon your spiritual aura. While there are many ways to achieve this, one might chant something to the effect of:

Clean me from pollution,

Mind, body and soul

Curious, Harry took the lenses off his glasses and saw the same words in Portuguese.

Eu me limpo da poluição

mente, corpo e alma

He quickly put the lenses back on.

He read the rest of the section but it just talked rubbish about finding his spiritual centre. Feeling sheepish while doing it, Harry repeated in his own head:

Clean me from pollution. Mind, body and soul.

Nothing happened.

Of course nothing happened, he scolded himself.

He closed the book. He had gained a spell that didn't work. Wonderful.

Harry turned over to Williamson, brushing his hand through his hair.

"Any luck over there?" Harry asked.

Williamson was eating some biscuits from a plate, the book opened in one of his hands.

"Lots of interesting myths… nothing you need to hear."

Harry sighed.

"Right, well I'm going to give this last book a look, then we'll go down to see Hermione and Luna in the library," Harry said, grabbing the third leather-bound book, this one green.

The Lost Entrails of Ancient Magic by Timothy Sosa.

Harry opened the book to see a long and multilayered contents page. This was easily the biggest book of the three and it seemed the writing was smaller than most books. The first page seemed to be a note from the author directed at the reader.

I am not a man of great wisdom; my name is Timothy Sosa. I have spent my life, for many dramatic reasons, in some of the most dangerous and imperative times in magical history. I write this memoir in my one-hundred and seventy fourth year, because I fear I will not make it to one hundred and eighty. The year is 1758. I have spent the last fifty years in South America and my first fifty years, but I travelled around the world for decades in between.

I have one invaluable prize from those travels.

I have stories. Stories that are true, to my knowledge, and rich in detail… or at least as rich as I can remember them. Do not see these as fairy tales, though they are sometimes presented as such; see them as a documentation of my travels. See them as a rare glimpse into some forgotten times. I know they are forgotten for I barely remember them myself anymore. And that is why this book exists.

I have stories, and I intend to tell them.

Timothy Sosa seemed like a fun narrator, but Harry didn't want to read his entire life journey. Harry looked back at the table of contents, which he saw were organised by year primarily. The first entry was dated as 1594. Harry looked down at the dates starting at 1600, specifically for any mention of Dabria. He didn't notice her on his first scan but decided to double check.

He was just losing hope that he wouldn't find anything when he found 1640 Soul Magic and 1660 The Iron Angel.

Memorising the page number, Harry jumped ahead in the book. When he arrived in the right section, he flicked through the pages until he arrived at the page he needed.

1640: Soul Magic

I remember quite clearly the year I first encountered soul magic, for it was precisely four years to the day I would leave South America and not return for seventy four years. First day of August.

In those days of old, I had already spent thirty years as a teacher at Castelobruxo. Deciding it was time to retire, at least from an academic perspective, my next goal was already implanted in my mind. Which was odd for me, because I never made decisions ahead of time. Not yet anyway.

I spent that summer in the halls of Castelobruxo, knowing my last days were upon me, just waiting for the days to pass. Then, on that first day of August, a spirit came to me. It warned me of a great danger that was heading straight for the school.

In haste, I came to the grounds and alerted some of the other teachers.

We found, to our horror, that the magical enchantments surrounding the school were being removed one by one. Not destroyed, not broken through, but removed entirely.

That is the first time I saw Dabria, The Iron Angel in her first of four attempts to siege the school. All she had to do was touch you with her wand, or one of her cursed objects, and you would be infected with dark soul magic. It would drain you of your magic, until it is sealed, in which case the magic would be lost forever.

While we never had access to the source of the magic, many professors and scholars tried to figure out that branch of soul magic, which was often dubbed Dabria magic because she was the only person who knew how to use it.

When I left South America in 1644, no-one had figured out the identity of Dabria nor how to stop her. I wish I could say I had been there to see more of that period, but I only ever met Dabria in the flesh one other time.

1660 The Iron Angel

It was many years later, perhaps the 1660s. Dabria had quite a following across South America, and that influence had spread to parts of Europe.

I had started writing then; fictional tales for my own amusement. I figure this book's creation came from the seeds planted in those times. Her followers had grown by some number; I heard as high as twelve hundred.

She was known as The Iron Angel and her reign of terror over the places she chose to pillage were mostly stripped of their magic, becoming Impoverished. No-one knew how to stop her, and when she invaded a village with fifty men that I was staying at, I didn't even try.

Some would call me a coward; but there was nothing I could have done except get myself killed. Instead, I hid. I watched as she shot people with her soul magic. Purple lightning clinging to people like leeches, bringing them to their knees. Draining them of their magic. And then, she sealed all their curses with her great book. In later years they referred to it as the Grimoire of Dabria. The magic that sealed their curses was white. That's what scared me the most; I had not expected dark magic to be so pretty.

I had left South America years before to avoid Dabria and then had been unfortunate enough to meet her again in Europe. She didn't see me; but she wouldn't have recognised me if she had. I was nothing to her. Miniscule.

But there was someone she could not forget.

While I was not a witness, I heard some first-hand accounts some years later. A witch emerged out of nowhere, it seems, out of a small, unassuming family. She had used magic that matched Dabria's and brought her to her knees, long enough to seal the grimoire away and apprehend the woman.

That hero was called Indigo Varela, but she came to be known in legend as The Silk Angel.

Harry stopped reading. Varela.

He closed the book and looked back at the book entitled Guides in Purity. It was written be Zelina Varela.

A coincidence? He thought, but then reasoned with himself, Quite the coincidence if so.

So if Harry was right, Indigo Varela's relative wrote the book. A sister perhaps?

Or maybe it was Indigo herself, using a pseudonym.

The questions bubbled uncomfortably in Harry's mind. He continued reading the rest of the section, but it didn't give him any interesting information.

Harry sighed as he closed the book.

"No luck?" Williamson asked, peering over his book.

"Some information that could be useful but nothing groundbreaking."

There's some information here in this book," Williamson said, "Mentions some spells but… it's weird. Anyway, I made a copy of all the information, since we can't take the books with us. I would have copied the whole book, but a duplication charm didn't work so I had to copy the notes by hand."

Williamson handed Harry a few sheets of paper.

"Thanks," Harry said, checking his watch, "Well, look at that. Only half an hour til the feast. Shall we head down?"

Williamson grunted in agreement and got up ready to leave, placing the book he was reading on top of the pile.

The books snapped up on their sides all on their own and shot up into the air, placing themselves back into the bookshelf at the highest part of the wall.

Harry grinned, "I love this place."