Chapter 67 – Herpo the Foul

The Black Cat Illusion appeared again just a couple of days later, silently slipping into the study at Potter Manor, its sleek form blending effortlessly into the shadows. Harry was by the window, staring out at the sprawling Scottish hills when he caught sight of it. The flicker of black fur and the gleam of its reflective blue eyes were unmistakable. With a gentle leap, it deposited two letters on his desk before vanishing as suddenly as it had come.

Harry glanced down at the envelopes, a crease forming between his brows as he picked up the first one. He recognised the small, crisp handwriting instantly—Jingles. He slid a finger under the seal and unfolded the letter.

The message was direct and formal, outlining the current situation in Greece. "This is the general battle plan," Jingles had written. "Everyone in a leadership position has received an individual letter, which you should find enclosed."

Harry let the parchment rest on the desk as he picked up the second envelope. That must be the personalised instructions, he thought. But first, he focused on finishing the first letter, noting the urgency in Jingles' tone.

"Our primary objective is to bring the civil war under control. The Hekatidae, Herpo's followers, are gaining ground swiftly as more and more of the magical population of Greece turn to him, driven by their religious belief in Hecate. We have opened communications with the Synedrion Mágikon, the magical Greek government. They know we are coming to help. But be aware—communication across Greece has broken down, and in more remote areas, you may find yourself under fire from both sides."

Harry sighed softly, fingers tapping the edge of the parchment. The Hekatidae—Herpo's dark faction, the so called "Children of Hecate"—were a growing menace, and it seemed that turning the tide of the civil war would not be a simple task. He read on:

"Minimise the casualties of those who oppose Herpo where you can. But do not risk your lives for it. Winning the war is more important than saving civilians."

Harry's jaw tightened at the line. He could almost hear Sirius arguing over that sentiment, though he knew better than to waste time on needless losses.

The letter concluded with a critical note: "Once the civil war's tide has turned, a smaller group will move on Herpo himself. You will receive the location in your second letter. Taking Herpo down will shatter the Hekatidae."

The signature at the bottom was familiar—Jingles' tidy script marking the end of the formal missive. With a soft exhale, Harry folded the parchment and handed it to Tracey, who had been sitting quietly across the room, her dark eyes curious.

"Here," he said, "read it. It's the general plan."

As Tracey took the letter, Harry opened the second envelope, already bracing himself for more details. The moment his eyes skimmed over the first lines, he understood why it had been sent separately.

This letter was more personal, outlining his and Tracey's specific orders. "There is a squad waiting for each of Talon and Aquaphilia," it began, using the codenames they had chosen. "Both of your groups will head to Athens and secure the Archmage Synedrion, the leader of the magical government. Your task is also to secure Athens itself. Like Herpo, if either the Archmage or the city falls, the war could turn—but not in our favour."

Harry felt the weight of the mission settle over him like a heavy cloak. Securing the Archmage and Athens itself was critical. Without the Archmage, the Synedrion would collapse, making it easy for Herpo's forces to take over. But their final destination lay elsewhere.

"Once the Archmage is secure, you are to travel to the island of Koufonisia. It's there, beneath an ancient temple, that Herpo's laboratory has been hidden. Within the lab, you will face ancient guardians and basilisks. I have prepared something to help you against the basilisks, but I will give it to you in person when the time comes. Until then, stay focused and trust in your training."

Harry paused, his mind already spinning with strategies. The final lines brought a small, unexpected smile to his face despite the weight of the task ahead.

"I gave the most important task to the Order's strongest member, as I only trust you to handle this." the letter concluded, signed once again by Jingles. Attached was a small Portkey—just as Jingles had promised—to transport them directly to their squads.

Harry folded the second letter carefully and handed it to Tracey. "Here, read this one too. It's got our orders."

Tracey, still holding the first letter, took the second from him. "I will," she said, flashing him a warm smile before leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I'm going to get Evan," Harry said, standing and stretching. "Like we discussed, he'll stay at Black Castle while we're gone. After that, we can leave."

Tracey nodded. "I'll be here. Just be quick." There was a flicker of concern in her voice, but it passed as Harry left the room to fetch Evan, knowing that soon, they'd be in the thick of war.

Harry made his way down the quiet hall to Evan's room, the soft glow of evening casting long shadows on the wooden floor. He gently knocked before pushing the door open to find Evan seated on his bed, legs crossed, reading A Beginner's Guide to Magical Theory. His son was already getting a head start on school, as eager as always to learn.

"Hey, champ," Harry said with a soft smile, leaning against the doorframe. "Time to pack your things. You're going to be staying at Black Castle for a bit."

Evan looked up from his book, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why?"

Harry stepped into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Well, your mum, Uncle Rigel, and I are going on a little trip. We don't want you to be alone, so you'll be staying at Black Castle with Perseus. Kreacher will be there too, keeping an eye on things."

Evan closed the book carefully, a hint of scepticism lingering in his expression. "A trip? Is everything alright?"

Harry ruffled his son's messy black hair, offering a reassuring smile. "Of course, it is. Just a boring trip for adults. Trust me, you'd fall asleep in no time if you came along."

Evan still seemed unsure, but he slid off the bed and moved to pack a few things into his small satchel. He paused briefly before stuffing in a few more clothes, glancing up at his dad. "Alright... but it better be really boring."

Harry chuckled. "It is, trust me."

Once Evan had finished packing, they headed out of the room together. As they approached the floo, Harry shouted toward the study, "Trace, we'll be back in a few minutes!"

Before he could step into the fireplace, Tracey came rushing down the hall, her face warm with a smile. She swept Evan into a tight hug, kissing the top of his head. "It's just for a few days, sweetheart. I know you'll be great. Maybe ask Perseus how his Hogwarts preparations are going, hm?"

Evan gave a half-hearted nod, though his voice had a slight whine to it. "Perseus is kind of boring, though. He doesn't even like to fly."

Harry let out a soft laugh. "Not everyone loves flying, mate."

Tracey chimed in, her tone playful but firm. "And while we're away, you shouldn't be flying either. You'll have plenty to do, I'm sure." She ruffled his hair affectionately. "You'll be fine, Evan. We'll be back before you know it."

Harry nodded, feeling the tension in his chest ease slightly as Tracey's presence brought comfort. "Alright, time to go," he said, guiding Evan toward the fireplace. Together, they flooed to Black Castle.

The grand, imposing walls of the castle greeted them as they stepped out of the floo. Before they could fully regain their balance, Kreacher appeared with a soft pop, bowing low. "Master Harry, young Master Evan, Kreacher has been expecting you."

Harry smiled at the old house-elf. "Good to see you, Kreacher. How's Rigel? Is he still here?"

Kreacher's large eyes flickered with a strange sadness. "Master has not been the same since the mistress passed. But physically, he is fine. He left yesterday and said Kreacher should watch over both young Master Perseus and young Master Evan. He will not return for a few days."

Harry nodded, his smile tightening slightly. "Right... Rigel must already be out... preparing for our trip."

Kreacher gave no further response, merely nodding as he stepped forward to take Evan's bag. "Kreacher has prepared a room for Master Evan."

Harry crouched down to his son's level, offering a comforting smile. "Have fun, alright? I'll be back in a few days. You'll be fine with Kreacher and Perseus."

Evan looked up, his scepticism lingering for a moment before he nodded. "Okay, Daddy."

With a quick hug and a promise to return soon, Harry stood and watched as Kreacher led Evan away. Once they disappeared into the depths of the castle, Harry turned back toward the fireplace and flooed back to Potter Manor, the weight of the impending war settling heavier on his shoulders.

~~~o~~~

Evan followed Kreacher through the dim corridors of Black Castle, his footsteps echoing faintly in the empty hallways. He had been here so many times before, usually in the midst of laughter and warmth with his parents, his siblings, and Uncle Rigel's family. Now, without them, the vastness of the castle felt almost oppressive. Yet, he couldn't help but think it might be even worse for Perseus. His father was off on this trip, his mother was gone forever, and his siblings were away at Hogwarts. Evan made a silent promise to himself—he'd make sure Perseus was alright.

At last, they reached his room, another of the endless, identical guest rooms Black Castle had to offer. Kreacher stopped at the door and gave a polite nod. "Young Master Evan's things will be packed away here," he said, beginning to set up Evan's small bag with efficient care.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Evan replied. "Um, where's Perseus?"

"The young master is in his room, and Kreacher has informed him of your arrival," Kreacher answered with a nod.

Evan smiled his thanks before dashing off down the corridor toward Perseus's room, his steps quickening at the prospect of seeing his cousin. He knocked briskly on the door, and after a moment, Perseus's quiet voice called, "Come in."

Pushing open the heavy door, Evan stepped inside to find Perseus seated at his desk, flipping through a book on charms. They greeted each other, but Evan noticed immediately that something was off with Perseus. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes had a distracted, faraway look.

"Why are you here?" Perseus asked finally, tilting his head curiously.

Evan raised an eyebrow, thrown off by the question. "Wait—didn't Uncle Rigel tell you? Our parents are on some kind of trip together. You know, adult stuff."

Perseus nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "My father mentioned he'd be gone for a few days…but he didn't say anything about going with your parents." He paused, then asked with a trace of hesitation, "So… why are you only here now? Father left yesterday. If our parents are on this 'trip' together, wouldn't they have left together?"

Evan's brow furrowed at this thought. "That… that is odd." He scratched his head, the pieces not quite fitting. "You don't think… they're keeping something from us, do you?"

Perseus looked down, his face shadowed with a thoughtful expression that told Evan this wasn't news to him. Something was going on, but whatever it was, Perseus wasn't comfortable talking about it. Evan decided not to press further, at least not for now.

To lighten the mood, he changed the subject. "Well, Mum did say I should use this time to prepare for Hogwarts." He glanced at Perseus, who was still holding his charms book. "How's it going for you?"

Perseus's face lit up at the question, and he straightened a little. "Pretty good, actually. I'm getting better at charms."

"Brilliant!" Evan grinned, pulling his own book from his satchel as he joined Perseus at the desk. Together, they poured over their textbooks, the tension of adult secrets and uncertain trips temporarily fading into the comfortable quiet of studying side by side.

~~~o~~~

The world around them shimmered and spun, and with a lurch, Harry and Tracey landed in the bustling front-line headquarters of the Order's operations in Delphi. The city had become a hub of magical activity, with Order members and enchanted scrolls zipping past, everyone deep in focused conversations. They both wore the dark robes and masks of the Order, their attire marking them as Talon and Aquaphillia.

They hadn't gone far before Ruckus and Tumult spotted them, and the twins sidled up, identical mischievous grins hidden beneath their masks.

"There you two are! Welcome to Delphi," Ruckus began with an exaggerated bow. "We're here to provide your lot with equipment and information."

Tumult nodded and leaned in slightly. "One squad's already geared up and prepped for the Athens mission. They're mostly rookies, but it shouldn't be too hard—standard protection for the Archmage and all."

Harry crossed his arms, brows furrowing. "Our instructions said there should be two squads—one for each of us."

"Correct," Tumult replied, exchanging a look with his twin. "You'll both have squads, but only one squad needed equipment. The other's already fully outfitted."

Tracey looked between them, her eyes narrowing. "And how exactly does that work?"

Ruckus gave a casual shrug. "Simple. Your second squad is made up of Aurors."

Harry's head tilted in surprise. "Why are Aurors involved in this mission?"

"Minister Granger authorised half the Auror force to lend a hand," Tumult explained, his tone one of pure amusement. "The ICW still hasn't officially decided on intervention, but it seems dear Jingles made sure we'd have some extra muscle. Likely tipped off Hermione about the situation to make it official."

"Right, so the Aurors here won't be the issue," Ruckus added, his grin growing. "We can't make any promises about their quality, but with the two of you leading the mission, this should be a cakewalk."

Tumult fished a wooden box from beneath his robes, its lid etched with small cat figurines carved in obsidian. He handed it to Harry and motioned to the right. "Here are your two teams." He pointed to the two groups standing off to the side—one in Order robes, the other unmistakably clad in Auror uniforms. "Each of these figurines is a Portkey directly to Athens. Activation phrase is 'Archmage.' According to our information, the fighting is still on the outskirts, so you'll arrive near the city centre to secure it from within."

With a nod, Ruckus and Tumult wished them both good luck, their expressions sly as they moved off to prepare the next group.

Harry and Tracey turned toward their squads, moving confidently as they approached. "Good evening," Harry greeted, his voice steady as he eyed the assembled witches and wizards. "I'm Talon, and this is Aquaphillia," he said, gesturing to Tracey, who gave a short nod.

Harry then opened the box and took out two figurines, handing one to Tracey. "Alright," he continued, passing the box to one of the Order members in front. "Everyone, take a figurine and pass the box along."

Once each member of their teams had their Portkey in hand, Harry held up his own, signalling for attention. "On my count," he said, his voice firm. "Three… two… one—activate."

As the word "Archmage" left his lips, Harry felt the tug of the Portkey pull him forward, and the world vanished in a whirl of light as they hurtled toward Athens.

The moment Harry, Tracey and their teams arrived in the heart of Athens, they found themselves engulfed in a war zone. The city lay under a fiery haze, the night sky glowing orange from the flames consuming buildings all around. Muggle families screamed in terror as they fled through smoke-choked streets, dodging debris and spellfire. Amidst the chaos, the Phylakes Mageíon—elite enforcers of the Synedrion Mágikon and the Greek equivalent of Aurors—fought valiantly, trying to hold back the advancing Hekatidae. The insurgents, fanatical followers of Herpo, were dressed in civilian clothing, making them easy to identify against the Phylakes' uniforms, yet blending seamlessly with the fleeing crowd. Explosions from curses and wards echoed as Harry took in the scene, his mind sharpening with purpose.

Harry's gaze sharpened, taking in the scene with practised calm. "Alright, we need a safe zone here!" he ordered, his voice clear and authoritative. "Order members, start setting up wards and protections for civilians and the wounded here." He turned to the Aurors. "You lot, engage the Hekatidae—push them back and keep them occupied. We'll cover you from here."

The Order members sprang into action, setting powerful shield charms and placing guiding markers to direct civilians toward the safe zone. The Aurors moved out with wands raised, casting shields to deflect incoming curses and launching offensive spells in tight formations, quickly pushing forward.

Harry turned to Tracey, giving her a nod. "Time to join the fray."

Together, they advanced toward the Hekatidae, slipping through the smoke and rubble-strewn streets, spells already flying. Tracey sent off a barrage of Stunners and Disarming Charms, her wand a blur as she moved with efficient, practised precision, sending one Hekatidae after another sprawling to the ground. Meanwhile, Harry took the field with an air of complete, calculated control, drawing on his expanded elemental repertoire, each spell more destructive than the last.

He aimed his wand toward a nearby fire spreading from an abandoned shop to the next building over. With a subtle flick, the flames obeyed his command, surging and shifting to form a barrier of fire that held back two advancing Hekatidae. He focused on the fire, wrapping it around their wands like whips, forcing the burning lines to drop from their hands as they screamed in pain. One tried to flee, but Harry raised his wand again, directing the flames to form a tight circle around them until they crumpled, their wands little more than ash.

To his right, Tracey held her own with a smooth efficiency, casting Blasting Curses and Shield Charms with practised grace, knocking one assailant back against a wall with a stunning burst of light. Her style was precise, every movement timed perfectly to take down her opponent without hesitation.

But it was Harry who commanded the scene with unrestrained power. A flash of green cut through the air toward him—a Killing Curse—but Harry spun, raising his wand in a sharp arc. A fiery wall flared up, consuming the curse in an explosion of embers. Wasting no time, he moved forward, summoning thick, thorny vines from the earth. The vines surged forward, twisting around two attackers' ankles and snapping taut, pulling them to the ground with shouts of panic as the magical vines continued wrapping up their bodies, pinning them in place.

Another group of Hekatidae tried to charge forward, wands raised, but Harry slashed his wand horizontally, and a wave of water materialised mid-air, crashing over them with the force of a small tidal wave. The impact threw them back, some of them colliding into walls, the rest sent sprawling over the cobblestones. One struggled to his feet, but Harry pointed his wand, causing the water to freeze, trapping the Hekatidae's feet in blocks of ice.

A curse shot from his left, catching him off guard. He whirled just in time, sweeping his arm out to call on the wind. A powerful gust erupted from his wand, whipping around and blasting back the approaching Hekatidae, forcing them to shield their eyes from the dust and debris now swirling in a maelstrom around Harry. As he concentrated, the wind intensified, forming a mini cyclone that spun around him, deflecting incoming spells and forcing back anyone who dared approach.

Tracey, meanwhile, ducked and weaved through the skirmish, her movements sharp and controlled. She raised her wand and fired off a Conjunctivitis Curse at a Hekatidae rushing toward her, the man doubling over and clawing at his eyes. With a quick follow-up Stunner, she sent him to the ground, sweeping her wand around to deflect a hex from another who had tried to sneak up behind her.

Harry met her gaze, and they both nodded, moving as one through the battlefield. A group of Hekatidae closed in around them, outnumbering them by at least a dozen. Harry smirked, his wand flicking upward. The ground shook as thick roots burst through the cobblestones, coiling around the legs of the Hekatidae before they could react. The roots twisted upward, pinning arms and wands as they struggled against the magical restraints.

One of the Hekatidae broke free, sprinting toward Harry with a curse on his lips. With a swift jab of his wand, Harry summoned a jet of flame that licked over the ground, blocking the Hekatidae's path. Then, with a twist of his wrist, he pulled the flames into a concentrated orb and launched it at his attacker, the fireball exploding on contact and sending the Hekatidae sprawling backward.

Tracey continued to disable their remaining opponents with efficient Stunners, moving gracefully through the field. Just as another Hekatidae raised his wand to target her, Harry's voice cut through the air.

"Duck!"

She dropped immediately, and Harry brought his wand down, calling on a wave of sharp, needle-like shards of ice that sped through the air, catching the assailant in his path. He fell back, stunned as the ice disappeared, but Harry was already moving on to the next target.

The combined force of Harry's elemental spells and Tracey's duelling precision was overwhelming. Soon, the field was littered with fallen or bound Hekatidae, unable to even lift their wands against the force of their assault. Harry paused, taking in the battlefield; the smouldering flames, the crackling ice, and the binding roots were signs of his complete control. Though the fight had been intense, neither he nor Tracey had faltered, the outcome never in doubt.

As the last of the Hekatidae were subdued or driven off, Harry let out a breath, the power of the elements receding. He looked over at Tracey, who met his gaze with a look of quiet satisfaction.

"We've secured the area," he said, lowering his wand. "Let's report back and see what else needs doing."

Tracey gave a nod, both of them turning back to the safe zone where their allies had already gathered civilians and treated the wounded. They'd won the first skirmish, but Harry knew the battle for Athens was just beginning.

Harry's gaze shifted through the carnage, his mind quickly assessing the situation. "The Aurors and Order members can handle the city. The Archmage is our priority," he said to Tracey, nodding toward the centre of Athens where they knew the Ministry's Greek equivalent lay hidden.

They moved swiftly through the streets, guiding each other through rubble-strewn alleys and keeping an eye out for pockets of Hekatidae insurgents. Their destination: the Acropolis itself. Beneath the Parthenon lay the Synedrion's headquarters, accessible through an ancient pathway. The entrance, disguised as a stone arch near the far wall of the Parthenon, would open to those who spoke the correct incantation.

As they reached the entrance, Harry whispered, "Aletheia kai Dike," the ancient Greek words for "Truth and Justice." With a low rumble, the stones parted to reveal a staircase leading down into the heart of the Greek Ministry of Magic. They wasted no time, descending quickly.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of burnt stone. Flames and scorch marks lined the walls, and scattered debris told the story of a recent, fierce battle. Hekatidae were everywhere, their curses echoing off the marble halls as they clashed with a handful of surviving Phylakes who fought with desperate determination.

Without hesitation, Harry and Tracey charged forward, wands at the ready. A Hekatidae spotted them and raised his wand, but Harry was faster; he slashed his wand through the air, sending a jet of fire across the corridor. The flames wrapped around the attacker's wand, forcing him back in pain as he stumbled into his allies. Tracey followed up with a swift Stunning Charm that felled another Hekatidae as they pushed deeper into the Synedrion's corridors.

Turning down a darkened passage, they encountered a large group of insurgents blocking their way. Harry flicked his wand, summoning thick, thorny vines from the walls. The magical plants twisted around the Hekatidae's legs, snaring them in place as Tracey unleashed a barrage of spells—Disarming, Stunning, and Confundus Charms, each one hitting its mark with incredible accuracy.

After breaking through the last line of insurgents, they reached the Synedrion's main hall. In the centre of the grand, column-lined room, the Archmage of the Synedrion, a tall, silver-bearded man in golden robes, was engaged in a frantic duel, his movements slow and weary. Three Hekatidae circled him, their wands flashing as they fired curse after curse, slowly forcing him to his knees.

"Not today," Harry muttered, narrowing his eyes as he and Tracey burst into the hall.

Harry raised his wand, summoning a torrent of water that rushed forward like a wave, crashing into two of the Hekatidae and throwing them back against the stone walls. Tracey moved in behind him, targeting the last attacker with a Blasting Curse that sent him flying, his wand clattering to the floor.

As the dust settled, the Archmage looked up, relief evident on his exhausted face. Harry stepped forward, helping him to his feet. "You're safe now. We're here to secure you."

The Archmage nodded, gratitude mingling with determination in his eyes. "Thank you, Talon, Aquaphillia," he managed, his voice heavy with weariness.

Harry steadied the Archmage, glancing at Tracey before asking, "How do you know our codenames?"

The Archmage's tired but shrewd gaze met his, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. "Ah, Jingles informed me himself. Just a few days ago, he said he'd be sending 'Talon' and 'Aquaphillia' to secure Athens."

Harry nodded, relaxing slightly. But his brow furrowed as he turned his gaze over the chaos still lingering in the hall. "The Hekatidae—they're fanatical. Why are they so eager to follow Herpo?"

The Archmage's expression grew grim. "Magic and faith are entwined here in Greece, more so than in most places. We've worshipped Hecate for centuries, and Herpo has exploited this bond. When he reappeared, he claimed to be Hecate's chosen, sent back to guide magical Greece. Many believed his lie—that his resurrection was Hecate's will. The more devout rallied to his side, and he demanded that we, the Synedrion, appoint him the next Archmage. Naturally, we refused. That was the beginning of this civil war. Each victory by the Hekatidae is seen as his divine favour, and each loss on our part has only swelled his following."

Harry's eyes hardened. "Well, now that we're here, the Order of the Black Cat and our Auror allies will put an end to those victories. Athens is secure. Once we stabilise the city, we'll move on Herpo directly and end this at the source."

The Archmage nodded gratefully, his exhaustion softened by hope. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse but sincere.

Tracey took a step forward. "We'll need to regroup and check in on our squads," she reminded him gently.

Harry nodded, turning back to the Archmage. "Stay safe," he said. "We'll leave Athens under protection as long as it's needed."

With a final nod of appreciation, the Archmage watched as they turned and headed out of the hall. Harry and Tracey soon found their squads gathered near the barricade they'd set up earlier. Battle-weary but resolute, the group of Aurors and Order members looked up as they approached, visibly relieved.

"Alright, give us a damage report," Harry said, looking between the team leaders.

One of the Aurors stepped forward, his face lined and bruised. "We've got four wounded and two dead among the Order. Aurors held steady, but a couple of ours were injured as well, though none too severely."

Harry shared a sombre look with Tracey, who nodded in agreement. "We'll need to request a backup squad to help secure the city until reinforcements from the Synedrion can take over," she said.

Harry placed a reassuring hand on the Auror's shoulder. "Well done holding the line here," he said. "Help will be sent shortly. Keep an eye on the civilians and help the wounded to the safe zone."

Once they'd ensured the city was secure, Harry and Tracey stepped aside, ready to move on to their next objective. Harry drew his wand, mentally picturing the island of Koufonisia. With a shared glance, they both nodded and, with a sharp twist, Disapparated.

The ancient stones of Athens vanished in an instant, replaced by the sound of waves lapping against a rugged shoreline and the faint smell of salt in the air. They had arrived on Koufonisia, a small, ancient island, now steeped in eerie silence. This was Herpo's stronghold, and their final destination in the battle to end the war.

Harry and Tracey took in their surroundings. The island of Koufonisia, normally silent and undisturbed, was now alive with tension. Just ahead, a group of Order members stood huddled together, and as they drew closer, Harry felt a surge of relief seeing familiar faces. Hermione, Ernie, and Neville were there, talking in low voices. A little apart, Tonks stood beside Remus, her gaze shifting warily over the rugged terrain, while Rigel waited, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon.

Rigel turned as they approached, a hint of a smile beneath his mask. "There you are. The last ones to arrive," he greeted. "How did things go in Athens?"

"Secured the Archmage, drove out the Hekatidae," Harry replied. "The Synedrion's safe for now. Our squads took a few losses, but they held the line." He glanced around at the others. "How about you all?"

Rigel nodded approvingly. "All successful. The tide's turning in our favour. Each of these small victories is helping to break Herpo's hold. But we're far from done."

Tracey's face brightened at the news. "That's good to hear. Are we expecting backup squads for this next bit?"

Rigel shook his head, his expression growing serious. "No, the fewer of us, the better. A large group would risk drawing Herpo's attention. Only the highest-ranking Death Eaters know about this place—Herpo would notice something was up if we brought too many. According to our intel, security here isn't extensive. Our biggest concern—besides Herpo himself—are his Basilisks."

Hermione leaned in, her face concerned. "You mentioned in the letter that you had something to deal with them?"

Rigel pulled a small leather bag from his robes, then opened it, reaching in and drawing out an assortment of odd-looking glasses, passing them around. "When I heard Herpo was using Basilisks, I had research done on the killing gaze," he explained, his tone steady but faltering briefly. "Daphne had notes on some early Basilisk enchantments—" He stopped, the weight of her absence pulling at his words, then continued. "And with that knowledge—and some inspiration from Muggle… what do they call it, the protective eye coverings for sun blocking?"

"Sunglasses?" Hermione supplied, offering him a soft, encouraging look.

"Yes, those," he said, giving her a grateful nod. "These glasses combine Muggle techniques and a unique enchantment. Wear them under your masks. It's safer not to make direct eye contact with a Basilisk even with these, but they should prevent any lethal effects."

Each of them took a pair of enchanted sunglasses, slipping them on beneath their masks. The lenses were oddly tinted and had a faint shimmer of magic to them, distorting the light in a way that seemed to dull the intensity of anything bright.

"Good," Rigel continued, his focus shifting toward the northern edge of the island. "The entrance to Herpo's laboratory lies beneath an old, abandoned temple—off-limits to the public. It's guarded by a strong enchantment, but I've managed to get the passphrase to get us through."

Harry's gaze narrowed. "Anything else waiting for us down there?"

Rigel nodded, grimacing slightly. "We're likely to encounter a range of defences. Besides the Basilisks, Herpo has enchanted stone guardians protecting the deeper levels—ancient statues animated to attack any intruders. We'll also likely face a few high-ranking Death Eaters along the way." He paused. "The guardians are difficult to destroy, but they shouldn't cause us too much trouble if we're prepared. Basilisk hides are resistant to spells, so go for physical attacks that can pierce the skin, or aim directly for the eyes or open mouth."

Everyone exchanged determined nods, and with a final glance toward the group, Rigel turned, motioning for them to follow.

As they made their way across the rocky, uneven terrain of Koufonisia, Neville sidled up beside Harry and Tracey, offering them a warm smile. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said, adjusting the strap of his wand holster. "Feels like forever since we've been in the field together."

Tracey laughed softly, nudging Neville with a grin. "And look at you, Nev! You're looking better than ever. I'd say a certain someone named Hannah would be lucky to see you again." Her eyes sparkled with teasing warmth. "You two ever talk things over?"

Neville chuckled, a light blush colouring his cheeks. "We've kept in touch here and there. She's been busy with her work, but… who knows?" He smiled, his voice light but fond. "Might just take you up on that advice someday, Trace."

His gaze drifted down, pausing as he caught sight of a familiar wand tucked into Harry's belt. "Wait—Harry, is that… you're still using the Elder Wand?"

Harry's hand instinctively brushed over the wand. "Yeah. Funny thing—I had another wand made, figured I'd use it as my main and keep the Elder Wand as a backup." He hesitated, then shrugged. "But I could never quite put this one away. Almost feels like it wouldn't let me. So now it's the other way around: I use the Elder Wand, and the new one's the backup."

Neville nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense, I suppose. But… aren't you worried someone might recognise it? Try to take it?"

Harry met his gaze, steady and confident. "Honestly, I've thought about it," he admitted. "But I've been through enough to know how to defend myself if it comes to that." He paused, his expression calm but resolute. "If someone tries, they'll find out it's not as easy as it looks."

They shared a grin, dropping the topic as they continued their approach. The rugged path opened up to a crumbling, ancient temple perched against the cliffside, the sea crashing against the rocks below. Moss and vines clung to its stone walls, and a strange, silent energy lingered in the air.

Rigel led the way, guiding them to a mural painted across the back wall. The mural depicted a serpentine figure entwined in a chaotic blend of dark symbols and ancient runes, its eyes gleaming as though alive. Drawing his wand, Rigel glanced at the others. "Get ready," he murmured. The team drew their wands, ready for whatever lay beyond. Then, stepping forward, Rigel intoned in a low voice, "Hegemon tis Skias kai Thanatou"—Master of Shadow and Death.

The mural began to shimmer, the colours blurring and melting into each other until they formed a rippling portal in the stone. Exchanging silent glances, they all took a breath and stepped through, emerging into the shadowy depths of Herpo's hidden lair.

The air within was thick with age and magic, the walls carved with eerie, twisting symbols, and the dim glow from their wands cast distorted shadows across the ancient stone. The silence was heavy, punctuated only by the faint echo of their footsteps.

Rigel withdrew his wand, his gaze wary. "Stay alert. There's no telling when we'll be noticed—or when they'll attack."

One by one, they tightened their grips on their wands, bracing for whatever lay ahead in the depths of Herpo's stronghold.

The group pressed further into Herpo's labyrinthine lair, the dim corridors stretching endlessly before them. Rigel took the lead, with Harry and Tracey close behind, their wands ready as they moved with deliberate care. Ancient stone guardians emerged periodically from alcoves and niches, enchanted statues carved in the likeness of mythical beasts and monstrous figures, their eyes gleaming with a malevolent energy as they sprang to life to attack.

One such guardian, a towering Minotaur statue with jagged stone teeth and red ruby eyes, lumbered out from a shadowy archway. It swung its stone club toward them, the force of its attack sending echoes down the corridor.

"Watch out!" Harry shouted, dodging a swing. Tracey then raised her wand and sent a powerful Blasting Curse at the statue's arm, chipping away at the stone, but barely slowing its advance.

Harry took aim, conjuring a rope of fire that wrapped around the Minotaur's legs, heating the stone to a crackling red. The creature stumbled, and Tracey took the opportunity to cast a second Blasting Curse, this time shattering its legs entirely. The Minotaur toppled to the floor with a tremendous crash, its crumbling remains lying inert at last.

They continued through the corridor, the air thick with dust and the scent of ancient magic. As they rounded a corner, three Death Eaters came into view, their masks gleaming under the dim light of their wands. The leader raised his wand and sent a volley of curses their way.

"Protego!" Hermione shouted, deflecting a lethal curse that ricocheted off the wall. Neville took advantage of the distraction, casting a thick vine spell that wrapped around one Death Eater's legs, jerking him off-balance. As the man struggled, Tonks fired a Stunning Spell that dropped him cold.

Harry sidestepped another curse and retaliated with a well-aimed Confringo, blasting one of the Death Eaters against the wall with a flash of fiery explosion. The last Death Eater tried to flee, but Rigel raised his wand, sending a lashing tendril of illusionary shadows that wrapped around the fleeing figure, dragging him down. Rigel's spell dissipated as the Death Eater crumpled to the floor, and with a glance at the others, he nodded to move on.

They continued pressing forward through twisting passageways, prepared for anything, when suddenly a shimmering blue light snapped across the corridor, blocking their path. Harry and the others stumbled back, their wands at the ready as the magical forcefield shimmered to life, cutting them off from Rigel, who had just passed through ahead.

Harry stepped forward, testing the edge of the barrier with his wand, but it held firm. "It's some kind of advanced barrier," he muttered, glancing through the field at Rigel. "Can you find a way to disable it from your side?"

Rigel tapped his wand against the field, a faint spark fizzling at the tip, but the barrier remained stubbornly intact. "It's tied to the wards in the corridor—must have been triggered by one of us crossing."

Harry and Tracey exchanged a look of frustration as Hermione tried several spells against the barrier. But it was no use; the forcefield held fast. Rigel stepped back, considering the corridor ahead with a focused look.

"We're wasting time," Rigel said finally, a determined gleam in his eye. "You lot look for a way around. I'll press on this way."

Harry clenched his jaw but nodded. "Alright. Stay safe, Rigel."

Rigel chuckled, the glint of amusement apparent even from the other side of the barrier. "Not to worry, Harry." He tapped his wand to his chest with a confident smile. "I can handle myself."

With a last, confident nod, Rigel turned, vanishing into the shadows beyond the barrier. The rest of the group exchanged glances before Harry led them back the way they came, intent on finding another way to rejoin their friend and continue their mission.

As they wound through the twisting passages, the group came across a large, circular chamber with walls lined in dark, uneven stone. Around the room, round openings dotted the walls, large enough for a person to step through. Something about the space felt wrong, its quiet almost too heavy, as if the very air waited for them to make the first move.

The moment they entered, the chamber shuddered, sealing off every exit. Stone slabs ground into place, locking them inside. Harry strained to listen and felt a chill creep over him as the faint sound of hissing slithered through the darkness, growing closer, layered with malevolent whispers.

He turned to the others, his voice tight. "Stay alert. Those are basilisks."

The others froze, their eyes widening. The hissing grew louder, echoing from the stone openings, the faint glint of movement within making the shadows twist ominously. Hermione, Tonks, Remus, and Neville all braced themselves for what was to come.

Through the openings, dark, sinuous shapes poured into the chamber. Basilisks, their emerald scales glistening under the dim light, coiled themselves with unsettling grace as they slithered toward the group. Harry could see the deadly intent glimmering in their yellow eyes, the low hiss of their tongues flicking in and out as they moved in for the kill. He gripped his wand tighter, the enchanted sunglasses Rigel had given them now feeling like a fragile shield against the dark creatures bearing down on them.

"Conjure physical weapons," Harry commanded, his voice barely audible over the growing hiss. "We have to avoid their fangs—one bite, and that's it."

As the first basilisk lunged, Harry's wand was a blur, the air filling with the crackling scent of ozone as he summoned a bolt of lightning that struck the serpent square in the side. The basilisk convulsed, its scales smouldering where the lightning scorched, but it pushed forward undeterred. Harry moved swiftly, raising his wand toward the ground and summoning sharp spears of stone that shot upward, piercing the basilisk through its underbelly. The creature's shriek echoed through the chamber as it collapsed, writhing in pain.

Tracey fought beside him, conjuring a volley of jagged, metal shards that she fired into the oncoming creatures. They dug into the scales of a nearby basilisk, who reared up, hissing with rage as it tried to shake off the searing pain. Neville took advantage of the distraction, conjuring thick, spiked chains from the ground that wrapped around the serpent, forcing it back with every pull as he heaved, sweat pouring down his face from the effort.

Tonks narrowly dodged a lunge from another basilisk, rolling to the side and sending a boulder hurtling toward it, smashing into its side with a brutal crunch. But the serpent shook off the blow, turning its yellowed eyes toward her with a renewed, murderous focus. She drew her wand back, conjuring a massive net of steel wire that dropped down, tangling the basilisk's body, its fangs gnashing dangerously close to her arm.

Another basilisk reared up in front of Harry, larger than the last, and struck with lightning speed. He sidestepped just as its fangs snapped shut inches from his face. Without missing a beat, he thrust his wand forward, calling forth a torrent of flame that wrapped around the creature, searing its scales as it recoiled, enraged.

The basilisk thrashed, its tail sweeping the ground, forcing Hermione to leap back, narrowly avoiding its deadly strike. She conjured a line of iron spikes that shot toward the serpent, impaling its lower body and pinning it to the ground. But it was a temporary restraint; the basilisk hissed, writhing as it twisted free, advancing with relentless fury.

Harry summoned every ounce of focus, raising both hands and calling on his deepest elemental affinity. The ground rumbled as jagged stone spikes erupted from the floor, piercing through two basilisks as they advanced. The creatures shrieked, their scales cracking as the stone tore through their bodies, greenish venom spilling onto the stone floor and sizzling as it pooled. Another basilisk lunged from his right, but Harry swung his wand in a powerful arc, summoning a wave of water that crashed over it, surging up and forcing its head down with the weight of the conjured flood. He raised his wand again, the water freezing instantly, trapping the serpent in an icy prison.

The floor shuddered with the weight of the enormous serpents as the group continued their brutal fight. Tracey conjured a rain of razor-edged glass shards, slicing through a basilisk's scales and into its flesh, the beast thrashing as it collapsed in a heap. Neville cast a series of spells that bound the creatures in thick, iron chains, keeping their deadly fangs and tails at bay.

Harry was relentless, shifting between elements with seamless precision. A basilisk lunged toward him, its fangs bared, but he thrust his wand down, summoning a ring of fire that exploded upward, consuming the creature in flames as it screeched, thrashing violently before falling silent. Another serpent surged forward, but he raised his wand to the walls, sending boulders hurtling down, crushing it beneath the massive rocks.

With each basilisk they defeated, another seemed to emerge from the openings, their numbers relentless. The enchanted sunglasses held firm, blocking the fatal effect of their gaze, but the group was growing tired. Blood and venom soaked the floor, and the air was thick with smoke, dust, and the metallic tang of battle.

Finally, only one basilisk remained, its massive body coiling around the perimeter of the chamber, its yellow eyes narrowed with predatory intelligence. This one was larger, older—its scales dark and scarred, and its movements calculated. It surveyed them, gauging their exhaustion, and slowly coiled itself back, preparing to strike with deadly precision.

Harry and the others were worn down, bloodied, and breathing hard from the unending fight. Remus joined the formation around the basilisk, his wand poised, the lines of fatigue etched into his face.

The basilisk lunged, its fangs snapping inches from Neville, who stumbled back, casting a volley of sharp stones that skittered off its scales like pebbles. Remus fired a powerful Reductor Curse at the basilisk's side, managing to crack a few scales but barely making a dent in the beast's momentum. Tonks conjured a massive iron spike, driving it toward the basilisk's underbelly. The spike pierced through but barely slowed the creature as it writhed, its tail whipping around and smashing into the walls, causing chunks of stone to collapse and sending the group scrambling to avoid the falling debris.

"Harry, we can't keep this up much longer!" Hermione shouted, her voice tinged with desperation as she sent shards of conjured glass toward the creature's face, attempting to distract it. The basilisk lunged again, its massive head swinging toward Tracey, who ducked, barely avoiding the deadly strike. The group was being driven back, pushed to the edges of the chamber by the relentless serpent.

Suddenly, with a swift, deadly movement, the basilisk lashed out and sank a fang deep into Tracey's right leg. She screamed, collapsing to the floor as the fang withdrew, leaving a bloody puncture wound from which a sickly green venom began to spread.

Harry froze, his vision narrowing as he saw Tracey fall, her face twisted in pain, clutching her leg as venom oozed from the wound. Rage flooded him, a fierce, unrestrained surge of protectiveness overpowering his exhaustion. With a shout, he threw himself toward the basilisk, his wand flashing as he unleashed his full elemental might.

Fire erupted from his wand, a blazing wave that surged over the basilisk's head, forcing it to rear back in fury. As it recoiled, Harry raised his other hand, summoning torrents of water that crashed down onto the flames, cooling and cracking the scales where the intense heat had weakened them. The basilisk hissed, struggling, but Harry pressed on. He swept his wand upward, summoning jagged stone spikes from the floor, which shot up and pierced the basilisk's soft underbelly. Finally, he lifted his wand high, calling down a powerful bolt of lightning that struck the creature, searing through its skull with a resounding crack. The basilisk let out a shuddering hiss, then collapsed, its massive body hitting the ground with a final, bone-jarring thud.

The chamber fell silent, but Harry's rage dissolved instantly as he rushed to Tracey's side, dropping to his knees. The others gathered around, Hermione and Neville looking on with horrified expressions as Tracey lay trembling, her face ashen and contorted with agony.

"Tracey… Trace…" Harry's voice cracked as he took her hand, his own trembling. He could see the basilisk venom spreading, darkening the veins around the wound in her leg. His heart pounded as he realised the severity of the situation. He'd read about basilisk venom—it was incurable, deadly.

Hermione knelt beside him, her face pale but resolute. "Harry, we… we don't have any other option. The venom's spreading too fast. If we don't act now, it'll reach her heart."

Harry looked up at her, barely processing her words. "What are you saying?" His voice was hoarse.

Hermione's face tightened, and she hesitated, her voice a whisper. "We have to… amputate her leg. It's the only way to save her."

The words struck Harry like a blow. His hands shook, and he felt as if the ground was shifting beneath him. He was supposed to protect her, and now… this was the only way. "I… I don't know if I can…"

Tracey let out a weak, shuddering breath, her eyes glistening with pain but somehow still trusting as they met his. "Harry… please… do it. I can't… I can't go like this."

With a heavy heart, Harry took a steadying breath and nodded, his grip on his wand tightening. He cast a swift, precise Severing Charm, and Tracey's leg detached just below the knee. Tracey cried out, her voice hoarse with pain, and Harry felt a deep ache twist through him as he watched her face contort in agony. Fighting the wave of emotion, he steadied his hand and cast a cauterising spell, his magic so finely controlled that only the edges of the wound seared closed, sealing the blood flow with a level of precision that spared her further harm. The fire lingered just long enough to close the wound without burning any surrounding skin, leaving only the faintest line where his magic had worked.

He sank back, his mind spinning, the weight of grief and guilt settling heavily on his shoulders. He should have protected her. If only he'd been faster, stronger…

Neville placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice gentle. "We'll help you get her to safety, Harry."

Hermione gave him a firm nod, her voice steady. "Remus and Tonks can keep going—they'll finish the mission and catch up to Rigel."

Remus and Tonks exchanged glances, their faces grim but determined. Remus stepped forward, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "She'll be okay, Harry. You focus on her now. We'll handle the rest."

Harry nodded numbly, watching as Remus and Tonks turned, determination hardening their features as they headed deeper into the darkness to finish what they'd started.

With Tracey's body weak against him, Harry and the others braced themselves for the trek back to safety, the burden of what had happened—and what lay ahead—weighing heavily on them all.

~~~o~~~

Rigel moved swiftly through the darkened corridors of Herpo's labyrinthine stronghold, the path etched into his mind thanks to Delacourix's whispered instructions. Every turn, every shadowed stairwell felt familiar, each step bringing him closer to his target. Now, with the path clear—no basilisks in sight, no more Death Eater patrols—he finally removed his mask and slipped off the enchanted sunglasses. There was no reason to hide anymore.

He descended one final staircase, his pulse quickening as he reached a vast chamber at the heart of the labyrinth. The room was ancient, walls lined with shelves carved directly into the stone, each laden with crumbling tomes and instruments darkened by centuries of use. Massive tanks filled with viscous green liquid glowed faintly from their corners, illuminating twisted, half-formed shapes floating within—early prototypes, perhaps, of basilisks and other unnatural creations. Strange symbols scrawled in a language Rigel barely recognised lined the walls, and in the centre of the room, a grand stone table held a myriad of jars, each containing small, pulsing, dark orbs—eerie relics of Herpo's experiments with soul magic.

Standing near the stone table was Herpo, his black robes billowing around him like shadows come to life. He wore a smirk, his gaze flickering with malevolent amusement as he regarded Rigel. Beside him stood Delacourix, his usually smug demeanour subdued, his face pale.

Herpo let out a chuckle, his eyes gleaming as he turned to Delacourix. "Tell me, Delacourix, how did an intruder make it this far when you claimed the forcefield was perfectly set to trap them in the basilisk pit?"

Delacourix stuttered, his face contorting with dread. "My Lord, I swear—I activated the field as instructed. This one… this one must have slipped through."

Herpo scoffed, dismissing Delacourix's excuse with a flick of his hand, and shifted his gaze back to Rigel. "So," he drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "How did you do it?"

Rigel raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. "If you mean the forcefield, well, it didn't hold me—"

"Oh, I'm not talking about the forcefield," Herpo interrupted, his gaze narrowing, a dark glint in his eyes. "I'm talking about the illusion. How did you reinforce it to the point where it resisted every dispelling charm I cast?"

A chill ran down Rigel's spine as the truth hit him—Herpo knew. His expression must have given it away, because Herpo's smirk grew, and he tilted his head with an air of smug satisfaction.

"Yes, I know about your little trick, Rigel Black," Herpo said smoothly. "Quite the clever touch, especially for a fool who was naive enough to put on my Horcrux. But that's not all I know about you, the Death Eaters told me all about the ambitious young Lord Black." He gave Delacourix an amused look, his tone edged with derision. "Illusion magic may be considered 'lost' in your time, but in my era, it was common. I knew instantly that Delacourix here was a fabrication. What surprised me was that none of the usual dispelling charms worked. So I'll ask you again: how did you do it?"

Rigel's mind spun, trying to keep a grip on his composure. Delacourix had been his most intricate illusion yet, woven with care, layer upon layer, resistant to common spells and infused with the complexity he and Daphne had developed together. But he forced himself to keep calm, adopting a tone of indifference. "Daphne helped me refine my illusion magic. Taught me to hide the illusion's threads, add depth. I'd be willing to trade—if you're interested. I'll share some of our secrets in illusion magic, and you, in return, share with me your research on the soul."

Herpo let out a dark, mocking laugh, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Still as foolish as ever, I see. You seem to think you hold some kind of bargaining power here." He smirked, folding his arms across his chest as he stepped closer. "Nothing has changed since our last meeting. You have no leverage, Rigel Black. None at all."

Rigel's gaze flickered toward Delacourix, noticing an odd tremor in his expression—a flicker of fear that the illusion seldom displayed. Something was off. Acting quickly, Rigel cast a subtle thread of magic, taking control of Delacourix's vision to see what had unsettled him so badly.

And then he saw it—himself, standing at the far end of the chamber. And behind him, sliding into the room in eerie silence, was a basilisk, its gleaming scales glistening like polished stone, its gaze fixed on his back.

Rigel's blood ran cold. Herpo must have lied to Delacourix, hiding the existence of yet another basilisk lurking in the laboratory, waiting to strike. Snapping back into his own body, Rigel moved without hesitation, throwing himself into a roll just as the basilisk's deadly fangs snapped inches from his shoulder. Mid-motion, he reached up, slipping the enchanted sunglasses back over his eyes. As he completed the roll, he turned, wand raised, to face the beast.

The basilisk lunged again, but Rigel was ready. He aimed his wand at its eyes and fired a focused beam of magic that struck the serpent squarely between its gleaming orbs.

The basilisk let out a guttural, high-pitched wail, its coiling form spasming as the spell took hold. Though there was no visible damage, it thrashed in agony, and within moments, its massive body coiled inward, the light fading from its eyes as it crumpled to the ground, dead.

Herpo let out a low, impressed whistle. "Well now… what was that, I wonder? How did you dispose of a basilisk so easily?"

Rigel rose to his feet, his gaze icy as he faced Herpo. "A little innovation in Legilimency," he said coolly. "I planted an illusion directly into the basilisk's mind, overwhelming it. Drives the target insane. Often ends with something like a stroke, as it did here."

Herpo's eyes gleamed, a glint of admiration mingling with amusement. "Magic has certainly evolved in the centuries since I last walked this earth." He raised his hand, and with a sharp motion, a serpentine staff flew from across the room and settled into his grasp. Herpo's face hardened, a thin smile playing on his lips. "But make no mistake, I will not be bested by a mere boy."

Rigel's lips quirked up in a smirk. "A boy, you say?" He gave a soft chuckle and lifted his wand, directing it toward Delacourix. With a casual flick, he dispelled the illusion entirely, Delacourix dissolving into thin air. Then, he surrounded himself with a glow that slowly intensified, radiating light until the chamber was filled with a blinding brilliance.

When the light cleared, there were two Rigels standing side by side, identical smirks fixed on Herpo, their wands raised and ready.

Herpo watched, unperturbed, before he let out a laugh, low and mocking. "An impressive display. That trick would certainly best most in this modern era. But I have slain countless mages who could cast true Simulacrum. You, Rigel Black, will simply be one more."

Rigel held his ground, his voice steady with confidence. "We'll see about that."

Rigel and Herpo squared off, the air between them thick with a potent silence. Herpo's staff lashed forward, unleashing a pulse of dark energy, and Rigel split, his Simulacrum flanking him in perfect unison. Together, they struck back, casting simultaneous Blasting Curses aimed at Herpo from both sides.

Herpo reacted with a predatory smile, his staff flashing as he deflected both spells effortlessly, and then retaliated with a spell Rigel didn't recognise—a sickly green flame that twisted and spiralled through the air like a living creature, charging directly at him. Rigel rolled to the side, his Simulacrum diving in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding the deadly fire that hissed as it struck the stone floor, searing deep into the rock itself.

Rigel focused, his movements tightly coordinated with his double, weaving intricate patterns with his wand to create illusions that darted forward, momentarily distracting Herpo as they flickered and shimmered. As Herpo countered, slashing his staff through one illusion, Rigel used the opportunity to cast a spear of flame that flew straight toward Herpo's chest. But Herpo twisted, his staff raised high as he called forth a shield—a translucent barrier crackling with ancient energy. The flame-spear dissipated against it, and Herpo gave a dark chuckle, his eyes gleaming with cold amusement.

"Is that all you have, Rigel Black?" he taunted, his voice smooth and menacing. "You rely on tricks and distractions, mere flashes of light."

Rigel's jaw clenched, but he kept his focus, commanding his Simulacrum to attack from behind while he circled Herpo, wand raised. He conjured a thick fog, dense with shadows that seemed to come alive, twisting and shifting to obscure his movements as he struck. His Simulacrum launched a Blasting Curse from Herpo's right, while Rigel followed with an aggressive Reductor Curse from the left.

But Herpo anticipated the attacks. With a sweep of his staff, he dispelled the fog, and from his mouth came an incantation so foreign, so chilling, that the air itself seemed to quiver. Black tendrils of magic shot out, writhing like serpents as they targeted both Rigel and his Simulacrum, wrapping around their limbs and pulling them closer, the magical binds tightening painfully.

Rigel struggled, his mind racing. The pressure was immense, Herpo's magic unrelenting, but Rigel was no stranger to improvisation. He concentrated, summoning his strength, and with a forceful burst of magic, he cast a Dispersing Charm that weakened the binds, just enough to twist free. His Simulacrum broke loose as well, and they struck again, firing a barrage of curses meant to disorient and overwhelm.

Herpo snarled, retreating a step, his staff deflecting curse after curse, but Rigel pressed on. He wove another illusion—a wall of mirror-like images, each reflecting a version of himself that lunged forward, obscuring the real attacks hidden within. Herpo hesitated, only for a moment, but it was enough. Rigel's Simulacrum managed to get close, striking with a well-aimed Blasting Curse to Herpo's side, sending him stumbling back.

Herpo's eyes narrowed in fury, and he retaliated with a curse that seemed to draw power from the very shadows around him, his staff weaving dark magic that hurtled towards Rigel with lethal intent. Rigel felt the blast graze his shoulder, searing his robes, and for a moment, the pain nearly made him falter. But he forced himself onward, focusing everything he had into one final assault.

Channelling his magic, Rigel cast a series of blinding flashes, disorienting Herpo with each burst. As Herpo raised his staff to dispel them, Rigel moved in, his wand a blur as he whispered the incantation for an advanced Disarming Charm, one powerful enough to wrench the staff from Herpo's grip. Herpo's hand spasmed, his fingers unclenching involuntarily, and with a cry of frustration, the staff flew from his grasp.

Rigel seized his chance. He cast a Binding Hex, chains of ethereal light wrapping tightly around Herpo, forcing his arms to his sides and rendering him immobile. Herpo struggled, his face contorted with fury, but the binds held firm.

Rigel stood over Herpo, the ancient wizard bound and defeated, struggling futilely against the magical binds that held him. He leaned in, his voice low and cold. "This is your last chance to bargain, Herpo. Help me bring my wife back—or die right here."

Herpo's response was a slow, building chuckle that swelled into a maniacal, mocking laugh. "Bring her back? You mad, lovestruck fool," he spat. "Bringing someone back from the dead? Impossible. Preventing death, yes, but reversing it?" He sneered. "You'll only find despair on that path—"

Rigel's wand moved in a swift, precise arc, cutting Herpo off mid-sentence. The Severing Charm struck clean, and Herpo's head separated from his body, silencing him forever.

A few seconds later, the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor as Tonks and Remus arrived, both wide-eyed as they took in the carnage. Tonks immediately rushed to Rigel's side, concern evident in her gaze.

"Rigel! Are you alright?" she asked, checking over his injuries with a swift, professional hand.

Rigel waved her off, his face stoic. "I'm fine," he replied shortly. He glanced down at Herpo's lifeless body, then turned to Tonks and Remus. "I need the two of you to clean up this lab. Collect everything—every note, artifect, and trace of Herpo's research. Bring it all to Black Castle."

Tonks gave a quick nod of agreement, but Remus hesitated, frowning. "Why?" he asked, his tone quiet but resolute. "Wouldn't it be better to destroy this vile magic? Why bring it back?"

Rigel's gaze snapped to Remus, his eyes darkening. "You think I give orders to be questioned, Remus?" His voice was sharp, his expression uncompromising.

Tonks laid a calming hand on Remus's arm, casting him a warning glance. "It could help dismantle the Hekatidae. Knowledge is power, remember?"

Rigel's lips curled in approval as he shed his bloodied Order robes, revealing a tailored suit beneath, the crest of the Black family embroidered subtly onto his collar. He crouched, picking up Herpo's severed head by the hair, holding it up with a grim, victorious expression. "I'll go to Athens," he said, voice steely. "Hold a press conference. End this civil war in one stroke."

Tonks's face broke into a grin. "That'll do it," she said, but Remus's brow furrowed, and he glanced around.

Remus's expression twisted with anger, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, a press conference. Brilliant, really," he snapped. "Greece may be saved, but have you even thought about what's happened to Harry and the others? Or is that just not in your scope of concern anymore?"

Rigel's eyes narrowed, a hint of irritation flashing across his face. "I assumed they would find their way back. Harry is capable. They all are."

"Capable? Tracey nearly died," Remus growled, his fists clenched. "And you didn't even ask about them, didn't spare a second to check if your own godbrother needed help."

Rigel's jaw tightened, his gaze hardening, but his voice remained steady. "They knew what they were signing up for. This isn't a game, Remus. Everyone here understood the risks."

Remus shook his head, his voice full of bitter disbelief. "So that's it, then? Save the day, and move on without a glance back?"

Rigel's face remained impassive, but his hand tightened around Herpo's head. "My duty here is done," he replied coolly. "I'll see to it that their sacrifices mean something."

With a final, tense glance, Rigel turned and strode out of the laboratory, Herpo's head in hand, leaving Remus and Tonks in the echoing silence of the ancient, blood-stained chamber.

~~~o~~~

Harry sat quietly at Tracey's bedside, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept. The soft sounds of St. Mungo's filtered through the open door, punctuated by distant chatter and the occasional hurried footsteps of Healers rushing by. The sterile white of the hospital room contrasted with Tracey's peaceful expression, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow.

Just then, a Healer entered, a warm smile on his face. The sound stirred Tracey, and her eyes fluttered open, a faint, sleepy smile forming as she registered Harry's presence beside her. Harry reached for her hand, his fingers gently squeezing hers as he looked up at the doctor.

"How is she?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Healer's smile widened. "Mrs. Potter has recovered remarkably well. We've checked her system thoroughly, and I'm happy to report there are no traces of basilisk venom left."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, and Tracey squeezed his hand back, relief softening her features.

The Healer tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye. "Though, I must ask—how exactly did you come across a basilisk?"

Harry let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, we had the bright idea to go on holiday in Greece," he said, giving Tracey a rueful smile. "Turns out, Herpo's basilisk breeding grounds weren't on the tourist maps."

The doctor chuckled, nodding knowingly. "Quite the destination," he agreed. "But I'll say, the quick amputation and cauterisation you performed likely saved Mrs. Potter's life."

Harry's gaze shifted to Tracey, and he felt a pang of guilt as he took in the empty space beneath the blanket where her leg had been. He cleared his throat, swallowing back the tightness. "So, what are her options?" he asked. "Is there… is there a way to regrow it?"

The doctor sighed, the smile fading a little. "Regrowing a full limb is still beyond current magical capabilities, I'm afraid. But a prosthetic is very effective these days. You'll be able to walk, Mrs. Potter," he said, turning to Tracey with a reassuring nod. "You may not be able to run or do strenuous sports, but for most everyday activities, it will be just fine."

Tracey let out a soft laugh. "I haven't run much since we got married, so I don't think that'll be much of an issue."

The Healer smiled, pleased at her resilience. "Excellent. I'll make arrangements for a prosthetic fitting soon. With it, you should be ready to leave here in just a few days."

Harry and Tracey both thanked him, and the Healer gave them a small nod before leaving, his footsteps receding down the quiet hallway.

~~~o~~~

The grand atrium of the Greek Ministry of Magic hummed with energy as reporters from Greece, Britain, and several ICW nations crowded in, cameras flashing and quills poised. Rigel stood at the podium, dressed in a sharp suit bearing his family's crest, exuding the calm authority of a diplomatic ally. He cleared his throat, his voice ringing out over the restless crowd.

"Today, I am pleased to announce that, working alongside the Order of the Black Cat and British Aurors, we have successfully eliminated the threat that has plagued magical Greece. Herpo the Foul, who sought to unravel our communities and corrupt our traditions, is no more." He lifted a hand, gesturing toward the grotesque evidence of Herpo's severed head displayed beside him, inviting the murmurs and gasps that rippled through the room as cameras flashed furiously.

Rigel paused, letting the moment sink in before he leaned toward the crowd. "To those still aligned with the Hekatidae," he said, his voice hardened, "understand this: you were deceived. Herpo exploited your beliefs, twisting them to his will. Now is the time to lay down your arms, to reunite with the Synedrion, and rebuild together."

The moment he finished, a barrage of questions erupted from the reporters. "Lord Black, how were the efforts coordinated across so many groups?" shouted one. "Will you play a continued role in Greece's future?" asked another. "How did you communicate with the Order?" a third demanded, their voices blending into a blur.

But Rigel barely registered them, already drifting into his own thoughts, a smirk tugging at his lips as he let their clamouring fade. His plan had come together with perfect precision. Yes, a quarter of magical Greece's population had been lost to the struggle—but the sacrifice had only secured his vision. Now he held Herpo's research, the key he'd long sought to bring back his beloved Daphne. And with the fame he had garnered here, he knew the path to the Supreme Mugwump's seat lay wide open.

All was going according to plan.