Bjeshkët e Namuna: the Accursed Mountains of Albania.
Raylynx's POV
Fog rolled down the mountain ridges and into the deep forests in the early morning.
The extreme ridges are known for being largely inaccessible.
For magical beings who can reach such places, there are still warnings about the myriad of dark creatures that inhabit the dark depths of this place.
The barman at the hazy pub warned me several times over about vampires.
"If you get bit by a vampire, you're done for! Chances are, you won't even know it until it's too late. And then there's no real cure. The best you can do is to drink the blood of a vampire, but that'll only turn you into one. You've got to drink the blood of a werewolf within two days to turn back into yourself, but there aren't any werewolves around here! They were all chased out by the vampires a long time ago."
I breathed out and my breath turned into mist, frozen by the air.
My hooded cloak was keeping me as warm as possible, but it was still undeniably freezing.
My wand was hidden in my sleeve, and a ball of light hovered over my palm, lighting not a pathway, but a lack of pathway.
My feet crunched softly in the dead leaves and echoed slightly against the dark rock.
I held up my left hand and then sliding the wand out from my sleeve, I waved the wand in intricate swirls with my right.
A thread of silver light wove itself out of the King's Wand and then laid itself on the ground. The thread was attracted to Dark Magic and led to my places with the highest concentration of Dark Magic.
I followed the thread through a dark cavern filled with snakes, but came out unscathed on the other side.
I found myself in a sort-of clearing carved into the mountain. Dark rock rose on all sides, but there was a strange spot of desert in the middle of the mountains where a black tree stood.
The silver thread wrapped itself around the trunk of the tree.
I pushed back my hood and cautiously approached the tree.
The traces of Dark Magic were undeniably there and yet, it all felt so… faint. I stowed away my wand and placed both my hands on the trunk of the tree. I closed my eyes and listened to the whisperings of magic that resonated in the tree.
They told of the past.
Confused, I stepped back.
"Gone…" I thought aloud. "But it was here, once. That's for certain."
The Dark Magic had come and gone. What could that possibly mean?
Too preoccupied on the way back, I accidentally brushed against a snake hanging off the wall of the cavern. It leaped down and bit my hand before it slithered away.
Sighing at my foolishness, I pulled out my wand and tapped it over my bite marks.
I felt some of the poison draw out, but frowned when I realized the wound was still open and that the poison was still bleeding into my system. Even with the King's wand, the healing spell hadn't been quite successful.
I knew I was going to be all right, but it still bothered me.
I made my way down the mountain and entered the pub.
I sat down at the bar between a young man reading and a tall man cloaked in heavy velvet.
"What you want today?" the barman asked me, his voice accented.
Instead of ordering food and a drink, I lifted my hand. "You got anything for this?" I asked him.
The barman studied my hand and tsked. "You see? I tell you to be careful! You bitten by vampire!"
I laughed lightly as the young man reading besides me started. "Vampires!?"
"Oh, pardon me," he said. "It's just… They're my field of study, you see. Second favorite creature after trolls. Are you sure it's not a vampire bite, then? I'd love to study it- after we find you a cure, of course."
"I told you to be careful," Alketa, the barman shook his head again. "You done for."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's a snake bite, Alketa. Sorry to disappoint you both."
"Anyhow, I've managed to heal it so it's non-deadly, but for some reason I can still feel some of the poison circulating in my system," I explained. "It's odd. I thought I mastered this Purifying spell by now. I suppose my Healing ability is still not up to par."
"That is because snake venom is different here," the man cloaked in heavy velvet, whose back had been towards me, turned to face me. "European Magic is tailored for its region, as is most magic."
"So the magic here is different?" I asked, awed.
The man, whose face I could finally see, nodded. He had handsome, bold features. His eyebrows were heavy and his dark brown eyes were deep-set. His jaw was tough, and even though he was quite kempt, there was a rugged demeanor about him nonetheless.
"Where did you learn your magic?" he asked me.
"Hogwarts," I answered. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"I thought so!"
We both turned to face the young man who had been reading. He put down his book and nervously approached me.
"I thought I recognized you. You're erm… Kings, aren't you?"
"Kingsley, yes," I said, a bit taken aback. He held out his hand and I grasped it with my good hand.
"I'm Quirinus, Quirinus Quirrell. I went to Hogwarts with you. I was a few years above you, in Ravenclaw. You were in Gryffindor, no?"
"Yes, I was," I replied. I studied his face, trying to see if I remembered him.
He realized what I was doing and laughed anxiously. "No need to feel guilty if you don't remember me. Hardly anyone does, I mean- oops!"
He'd knocked over his cup of coffee behind him with his elbow.
"Oh," I said, but he was already fussing about, cleaning it up. He set the cup upright and then with a flick of his wand, cleaned up the spilled liquid. His magic, like his demeanor, was very quick.
Then, the other man said to me, "Let me see your hand."
I turned back to him and held my hand out.
He studied it with a sharp eye, and then, muttering to himself, he pulled out a dark green vial from inside his cloak.
He unstoppered it and held the bottle above my wound.
"What is it?" I asked.
"A healing potion," he answered simply.
Then, he let two drops fall into my wound.
I winced a little as the slightly burning sensation of mint passed through my flesh. I felt it spread throughout my hand and chase after the venom.
"It will not get rid of all the poison as it has already circulated throughout your system," the man told me. "But it will do a much deeper cleanse than your original spell."
"Thank you," I said, grateful to the man. Then, as he threw open his cloak to put the bottle back in, I realized he had a line of pockets, each containing a bottle or ingredient.
"Are you an apothecary?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said, rearranging his cloak. It was then that I saw tattoos running down a few of his fingers on the inside of his hand and circling his wrist. But those tattoos are in the Ancient Runes.
I put a halt to my curiosity and addressed the issue at hand first. "Let me pay you," I said.
The man shook his head and raised a hand to wave aside my offer. Again, I caught a glimpse of the Ancient Runes markings on his body. Apparently, they were tattooed down his arm as well.
"Please," I insisted.
He shook his head again as he accepted tea and whiskey from Alketa.
"If you want to contribute to his tab here, feel free. He's run up quite a healthy tab," Alketa told me. "He comes here every so often as it's between where he collects his herbs and where he sells his potions, but he never pays."
"I'd love to," I agreed. Then, I turned back to the man, who was stirring his tea.
"May I ask your name?"
"Sehtzer," he replied, and brought the cup to his lips.
At that moment, the door opened.
Alketa cursed under his breath in Albanian.
"What did you say? I didn't quite catch that."
But Alketa only cursed again as he walked over to the men and angrily began telling them off.
"He curses those men and sends them away whenever they come in here," Sehtzer explained to me.
"He refuses service? Why?" I asked.
"Because they're Unicorn Hunters," Sehtzer said.
Quirrell, who had been overhearing our conversation despite reading his book, paused at his and looked over at the men. I followed his gaze.
They looked incredibly powerful, in hunter's gear and armed with magical crossbows.
"Unicorn Hunters," I murmured.
"It is a terrible thing, to slay a unicorn," Sehtzer murmured, keeping his voice low.
Alketa had finally managed to chase them out and just come around back to the bar when suddenly, a woman burst in screaming.
I immediately got to my feet and drew my wand out. I saw Sehtzer's eyes flash to it.
"What now?" Alketa groaned.
"Një grua është vrarë!" she cried out and then slumped over.
Quirrell dashed forward and tried to hold her up, but his slim figure had difficulty. Sehtzer walked over and gently carried the woman in his arms.
A loud and anxious murmur ran out across the bar's customers.
Alketa threw me a ring of keys and instructed me, "Lay that poor woman down in a comfortable bed. Any room will do."
Then, he set to calming the crowd down.
I walked down the hallway with the keys in hand. Sehtzer followed after me, still easily carrying the woman who had passed out.
I fumbled through the keys and managed to open a door to one of the pub's over-night stay rooms. Sehtzer gently set the woman down on the bed. We made sure she had water besides her and I squeezed out a towel after dunking it in warm water and pressed it gently against her forehead. Then, we made our way back out to the bar.
Conversation was in full swing and Alketa was only meekly trying to keep the gossip down.
"Alketa, what happened?" I asked him, as Sehtzer left to hear about what was going on.
"A woman has been murdered," Alketa said tiredly. "A peasant, Fatlinda. She was a frequent customer of mine, when she could afford it. Very hard-working. What a pity, what a terrible pity."
He fell quiet and I could read the grief in his elderly face. I fell silent.
Quirrell, who knew enough of the language to converse with locals, made his way back to the bar, shaking his head curtly.
"What awful business," he commented, but he seemed livelier than he had been before. The event had given him an excuse to mingle with others, and he seemed pleased about that, even though the whole affair was, of course, tragic.
"What happened?" I asked Quirrell. "Does anyone know who the murderer was?"
"No, all they reported was a hooded figure," Quirrell said, rubbing his hands together anxiously. A shudder passed through him, but his eyes were alight with something more than fear.
"Witnesses say he stepped out of the shadows of the street and murdered a woman in broad daylight! Nothing fancy about it, just a simple Avada Kedavra."
A chill went up my spine. Could that have been Voldemort? Does that mean that Voldemort is here right now?
I leapt off my chair, pulled out my wand, and headed for the exit, when Sehtzer grabbed my wrist.
"Where do you think you are going?" he asked me. Before I could answer, he said, "Do not go after the murderer."
"He might still be around," I replied. When I tried to turn away, he jerked on my wrist.
"Do not," he said curtly. "He is a menace to this village. He will kill you without hesitation should you cross his path. Especially since you stand out."
I hesitated. It seemed Sehtzer knew more about the murderer than he was letting on. I searched his face, but he was impossible to read.
"Fine," I said coolly.
He let go of my wrist immediately and sat back down.
I sat across from him.
"You have an interesting wand," he muttered to me. "Do you draw your power from it?"
"And you have interesting tattoos," I replied. "Do you draw your power from them?"
"Perhaps," he replied dismissively.
Then, Alketa approached us.
"Miss," he said, addressing me. "The lady has woken up. Do you mind coming with me? In case she needs a change of clothes and feels uncomfortable around me."
"Of course," I agreed instantly.
Sehtzer accompanied us as well.
The woman was no longer hysterical, but she shivered and could not seem to get away from her memory of what had happened.
"He was like a ghost, that man," the woman said. Then, she spoke in Albanian. Sehtzer spoke to her quietly and calmly and I could see that he was helping her to calm down. When he asked her question, she shook her head and muttered something. She reached out, as though to steady herself, and Sehtzer let her take his hand.
"What did she say?" I asked Alketa quietly.
"She is convinced he was a vampire," Alketa replied softly.
"And why's that? He didn't bite anyone, did he? He murdered someone with a Killing Curse," I pointed out.
"She thinks that because she is sure he came from the mountains," Alketa responded. "And she thinks pieces of soul hang from him like carnage strung on strings." Alketa shuddered.
What? Pieces of soul? And he came from the mountains? What if the Dark Magic was his? And what if that Dark Magic had to do with pieces of soul- Horcruxes? Then that must be Voldemort. I have to act quickly.
Realizing that Sehtzer was watching me, I kept my expression as neutral as possible. Do not let him know that you are about to make a move. He will think you are being rash.
But he could be leaving right now.
Calm yourself. You won't be able to kill him until after all the Horcruxes are gone, anyways.
But the Dark Magic had come and gone. What if he has the Horcrux on him right this very moment?
She said he comes from the mountains and that she thinks he's a vampire.
Then, if we put two and two together…
"Hey, Quirrell!"
"Oh, uh, yes?"
He had just been gathering his things, ready to leave the pub, when I caught him.
"You said you came here to study vampires. Do you know where their lair is?"
"Well, they're absolutely everywhere here, and um- I don't quite know where their lair is. You see, I haven't been able to, um, muster the courage to go and study them in their natural habitat. But I have read about-"
I took a deep breath. Sorry, Quirrell. Forgive me.
Legilimens!
I found that place in his mind. His mind was surprisingly weak for one so clever. It took no time at all to get the information I needed.
