Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self - May Sarton
London
There's always another box. Another mystery to solve. Wake up, Harry. Realise Reality.
Harry woke up in a cold sweat.
He instinctively assessed his surroundings.
The sun was rising and there was no one around. The night fire had burnt out and faint wisps was smoke still curled through the light breeze.
"Strange," Harry muttered with a yawn.
He got up and stretched.
Where did all the people go? He wondered. He had imagined with the fire and their blankets, they would be still around. Asleep. But instead, there was a strange taste in the air.
It felt like magic. Something had happened to the people here.
Harry drew on the void and looked deeper.
Shimmering runes materialised around him with an odd replication of immortality?
Harry looked around and there was nothing more to find. Not even a trail.
"Curious," he muttered and took a deep breath to wake himself properly. It was a new day.
He took the path towards the cluster of buildings visible some distance away.
The air heated up as he walked through the sand but he soon found himself entering an alley that was canopied with multicoloured sheets tied from the remains of building to building and beneath, to his surprise a growing number of vendors selling wares to a scattered and hooded community that emerged and disappeared through the shadows of the ruins.
A Network, he thought in glee.
"Can I interest you in some apples from the treasure hoard of the Elysium, Sir!" A middle-aged lady in grey robes selling fruits while sitting atop her run down cart beckoned him over with a smile.
Harry was intrigued. He walked over and asked, "The treasures of Elysium?"
He picked up one of the wrinkled fruit and had to wonder how it was grown in the desert. It looked old, which meant, it was rejected someplace else before being sold here.
The Elysium sounded like a place of the elite and judging by the lack of magic around him, it sounded like a haven for the magical.
"Aye," she said brightly. "I'm connected with the magi you see. Do you see any other fruit sellers around?"
Harry frowned. He was already profiling the wizards and witches that ran the Elysium. It was segregation all over again. It was the same at the Settlement by the Sea.
Elevate the strong and discard the weak. The principle of the evolution of survival.
The difference that made him frown was that those in the Elysium seemed to have found their hands on a mountain of resources that was out of place in the desert. They were cheating the rules.
He didn't like it one bit.
"Oye! Are you in there?" The woman snapped her fingers in front of his eyes.
Harry blinked. He had drifted.
"Where can I find the magi?" He asked.
"Ah come on now," she complained and twirled the edges of greying hair. "Don't tell me you're a greenhorn fresh out of the desert!"
"What if I am?" Harry asked mildly. Looks like she saw no profit in him.
She sighed. "Alright, get outta here. It's clear you don't even know how to pay."
Kill her!
The rage was always there. Waiting for him to lose control however unlikely it seemed.
Harry just smiled and turned away, ignored her muttering.
He looked around for people heading out of this makeshift market and followed a couple who were walking back into the shadows of the ruins with a bag of rice.
The sand under his feet began to change into concrete as he followed them down a staircase of a building and he realised they had made a network through the surviving basements and sewers.
How had it survived with the weakened earth he wondered.
There were several dozen people just walking through the maze of sewers and corridors that were most definitely connected with magic. He saw the rune of foundation spread all over the underground network hidden away like a spider's web.
The sewers were dry and the silence deafening. Only the soft footsteps of bi-pedals and tiny four-legged creatures echoed from time to time.
He continued to follow the couple through the twists and turns that they seemed to know so well until they began to ascend another staircase and emerged in the shadows with a familiar building in sight.
It was Gringotts. He made the connection instantly. It was renamed the Elysium and most definitely now overrun by witches judging by the dramatic change in the architecture.
The couple didn't go towards it and instead went down an alley of better-looking buildings that seemed to be housing units.
There was more activity in that direction and Harry chose to ignore Gringotts for now in favour of exploring the ruined city.
Unknown to him, less than a mile away, Daphne skulked through the dungeons with Draco. It had taken much convincing, but finally, Draco had agreed to take her to one of the more dangerous bars in the wasteland.
One that was run by Vampires.
Daphne was learning that the politics in the Elysium was by and large left to its own devices with buds of independent leaders with their hands on resources making a monopoly of them.
Grains, fruits, water, vegetables, meat; it was all being produced at good speed under magical conditions within the catacombs of the gold mines.
Magical kind was learning that the Goblins were keeping greater secrets than they ever knew about.
It was the combined power of the High Council that forced them out and it was that power that ensured peace was maintained. There was only one rule. Violence was not tolerated.
Above the ground stood the paradise for those who could afford it.
Below, the middle class. Those happy to survive with sufficient resources and out, in the wastelands; the low class. The non-magical.
The High Council had in a manner of speaking, achieved what the blood purists had been fighting for.
To put it even more simply, Voldemort's vision had become a reality. Albeit with the side effect of devastation.
And when the High Council wanted something, it was given without a second thought.
The lifestyle of egomaniacs. Nothing had changed. Was this what Harry had dreamt of when he cursed them?
Hermione might be able to see past it but she couldn't. And now in her boredom, she was beginning to seek thrills in the most dangerous corners of the ruined city.
The latest being: The Vampire's Den
That rising force was challenging the High Council's comfort zone. From what Draco had gathered, now that the Goblins were gone, they wanted something from within the Elysium. Something the Council wanted for themselves.
The very same thing that had attracted Harry subconsciously.
"How much longer, Draco?" Daphne asked impatiently. They had been walking for hours through the well-lit tunnels. She was back to wearing her boots, the enchanted grey cargo pants, a pale white t-shirt tailor-made for her by Mrs Barb. It was her go-to gear for heading into danger. Her blonde hair was neatly bunned and her wand held it together, enchanted to look like an elegant Chinese hair stick. Back at the hotel, she had become comfortable with a variety of conjured dresses, loose shirts and shorts. Wearing her battle gear after a while gave her a renewed sense of purpose and her patience was being tested by Draco.
The lanky blonde had led her through a less travelled tunnel that seemed as straight as an arrow until they had diverted through a hidden veil through the mud walls and entered a non-functional sewer system.
"We're almost there. Their lair is at what used to be the Canary Wharf."
Draco had repeatedly told them to avoid going near the river. There was still a bit of the river flowing with a near mystic force and was the only reason the non-magical hadn't perished. But it was also the vampires hunting grounds. A dozen vicious ones had been in lockdown at the Ministry of Magic and after the Desert, they broke out and had a feast, converted a few dozen and came knocking on Elysium's doors for a deal to ensure the prey did not dwindle too fast.
London was being ruled by predators and there was no escape. There was just one rule between the two species. Keep violence out of the game. They had lost enough. They needed a balance.
That's where the trade happened and that's where a makeshift economy was created. The High Council reigned supreme over the bulk of Elysium's produce and the excess was what held the wastelands together.
Draco paused and touched his palm to the wall. He closed his eyes and concentrated until a soft light pulsed from beneath and the tunnel wall shimmered into a fluttering veil.
Draco grinned. "Come on!" He was excited too. He had enough gold in his pockets to try out some high-end narcotics and keep his neck safe from being mauled.
Hermione on the other hand had met with the High Council and had a secret revealed.
Flitwick and Tom were with her as they travelled smoothly in one of the carts through the abandoned city, to a place that lay deep under the vaults.
She still didn't know what to make of Tom. An ex Dark Lord. A man, if she had known without those tags, she would have looked up to as a rational and intelligent man. He reminded her of Dumbledore if she was being honest. A stricter version if she had to point out a difference.
They rode the cart in silence as the wind whipped past them until it began to slow down and enter a massive caravan.
Hermione gasped when she saw millions of runes that littered the walls and was almost blinded by the combined pale golden light they emitted.
"What is this place?" She asked in wonder.
"This Hermione, is one of the sacred chambers of the goblins. Dead, until Harry Potter brought the world to its knees." Tom replied softly. "I'm sure it's the key to lifting the curse."
The cart stopped in the centre of the caravan and they got off.
"This way," Flitwick said and walked towards the wall at the far end.
When they neared Hermione noticed a tiny gap and a spiral staircase leading down. A white glow was beneath.
"What's down there?" Hermione asked. She was hesitant. She could feel an enormous presence.
"We don't know yet," Flitwick replied with a squeak of excitement.
"A fresh perspective," Tom added.
Hermione carefully followed Flitwick down the narrow tunnel as Tom brought up the rear.
"Hermione," Tom whispered.
She froze. His tone was of friendly warning.
"What you're going to see can show you things. I like to call it the heart of the curse. Try and keep yourself grounded."
Hermione gulped, then nodded and continued downward.
What was she going to find?
It was late in the evening and Harry's exploration had led him to the river bank by the wharf. He walked carefully down the slippery slope of the bank until he was within touching distance of the mystical river.
He squatted and peered into the river, his trained eye trying to decipher the billions of runes racing past with turbulence in complete contrast with what an untrained eye might see.
To the untrained eye, it was just a magical wonder. Faint colours and lights that made the river seem alive.
But Harry knew different. The river was core to his enchantment. It was the same as the one in the Enchanted forest. They were connected.
A chill blew past him and he shivered.
The sun had set and pitch darkness had set in. Only the light of the river illuminated the surroundings.
Harry stood up with a sigh. He didn't bother with a warming charm. The chill in the wind felt good.
He climbed back up the bank headed towards the row of buildings lined up by the wharf. He was hungry and wondered if there was a place to grab a bite.
As he came closer he heard someone call out.
"Hey!"
He turned towards the sound and saw a boy, standing underneath a flickering street light a few dozen feet away. Harry frowned. Wondering if he should bother acknowledging.
"Hey, yea, you. Are you heading to the vampire's den?"
Curiosity got the better of him and he walked closer. The boy was wearing torn jeans and a full-sleeved shirt tucked haphazardly in his jeans. His blonde hair peaked under the cap he was wearing and a grinning face greeted him with a causal yo.
"You want something?" Harry asked mildly. The boy looked barely a day over fifteen and his grin was annoying.
"Are you seriously heading to the den alone?"
"The den? Don't know what that is," Harry replied.
"Oh my god, dude. Are you new here? Didn't no one tell you to stay away from the river?"
"Kid," Harry said shortly. "You better get to your point or else…" He left the warning in the air and the void closed in around the boy.
"Woah!" He gasped. He felt as if death was closing in. "Alright, alright! Seems like you can handle yourself. I just found it odd to see someone wander into the vampires' territory alone."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're alone," he pointed out.
The boy grinned and pulled down his collar to show two punctures in his neck. "I'm part of the coven." He pointed to a bag near his feet. "And I'm selling if you're interested!"
Harry's eye slid to the bag he hadn't noticed. Now that he had, he saw it was radiating orange while being masked with some kind of cloaking magic. The colour of pleasure.
The boy kicked up the bag softly into his hand and unzipped it to show Harry what was inside.
Harry saw vials of blood.
"Vampire's blood," the boy whispered, attempting to add a pitch of mysticism and seductiveness to his voice. "A euphoric high to enhance your experience at the Den."
Harry gently lifted one of the vials out of the bag under the boy's watchful blue eyes. "Euphoria you say?" The magic certainly seemed that way as he drew it to eye level and peered closely. It felt similar to what he had felt in the morning.
The flickering street light pulsed light through the darkness as Harry was slowly drawn in by the hypnotic magic of the blood.
"What do you say? Let's make a deal?"
"What else do you have in there?" Harry asked.
The boy blinked.
"Other than the vampire blood?" He was bemused.
"That's right." Harry wasn't interested in drinking the blood of another species.
"Well, I got some blunts…"
"Weed?"
"Err.. yea?"
"I'll take 'em."
"You don't want the blood? It's hella better than pot yo."
Harry rolled his eyes and summoned the plastic zip-lock bag.
"Hey!"
Harry held out his other hand and conjured a bag of gold.
The boy was confused. He had met wizards and witches in the den but none that had refused the blood before. They loved it. They were addicted to it.
"Are you sure? You don't know what you're missing out on!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Which way is the Den?"
"The fifth house down the wharf. Couple hundred meters down that way."
Harry looked into the boy's eyes with deep intensity. The void wrapped around him, guided by Harry's will and modified his memory.
"Kid," Harry said softly. "I was never here."
The boy's eyes glazed and Harry melted into the shadows. When he snapped out of the stupor, he was alone.
He leaned against the street light with a sigh. "Wonder how long Valarie's gonna keep me out here as bait," he muttered under his breath.