And so they were off, riding with the Minister of Magic in her very own car. The Temple Church stood just off Fleet Street, and as they made their approach they seemed to leave noise completely behind, so utterly tranquil this place was. A place soaked in nearly nine centuries of history, it survived the Great Fire of London, the First World War, almost got destroyed during Second World War, but still it stood. It was an imposing, stark, simplistic circular structure with a rectangular section protruding from it on the east end. It looked more like a fortress than a place of worship, and no wonder; it was built and consecrated during the 12th century to serve as the headquarters in England for thePoor Fellow–Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon, better known as the Knights Templar. They squeezed past the tourists and through the large wooden door.
Hermione knew what she would've done now. She would've set up a watch on the church, men on every rooftop in the vicinity, patrols of Aurors in every street leading to the place. Yes, she would've done all that, if only she knew whom to trust. But this way, it seemed it would only be the three of them.
The inside of the church was as stark and cold and bleak as the outside, bearing little in way of traditional ornamentation one might expect in a church. What little heat there was in the place came from the tourists, the great and loud mass of them gathered inside. „Are you sure about this Irion and his documents?" Jeremy asked Eren as they moved through the crowd towards the archway leading into the church proper.
„Absolutely," Eren replied when he was done apologizing to some Pakistani man for bumping into him. „Professor Jäger often complained about not having access to them, saying if only he had them he would've completed his research within an hour. Well," he recalled with a nervous chuckle, „To say he complained would be an understatement of the century."
„The self–proclaimed dark lord is certainly after those papers," Hermione mused, „and it is up to the three of us to stop him. Or give him a hard time, at least," she added offhandedly, causing Jeremy to wonder why, if she was so committed to stopping the self–proclaimed dark lord, why would she ever even entertain the possibility that they might only end up inconveniencing him? If Jeremy did not know any better, he might've assumed the woman was finding all of this to be almost... fun.
„Perhaps we should be more careful about what we say," Jeremy warned. There was something about this crowd he did not like. He had never known churches to attract so many visitors, even when the church in question was as historical as this one. And such a loud unruly crowd too, he could barely hear his thoughts while they struggled past them.
The first thing they noticed upon entering the circular chamber were the ten effigies of knights lying prone on the floor, bedecked in armor, shields, swords, each figure showed signs of having been gnawed at by time, yet they rested in their peaceful sleep, each one distinct from the other. Different armor pieces, different leg and arm positions, different facial features, different markings on their shields. In the old days these effigies would've been painted with a variety of colors as well.
Hermione moved ahead. Uncertainly the two men followed. „Jeremy," Eren spoke up, halting in his tracks for a brief moment, „I'll stay behind. The tourists around here look innocent enough, but I still wonder..."
The Auror nodded. „Great idea, you watch our backs while we're gone."
Hermione's eyes roamed over the stone effigies until she found the one that was not like the others, for it was not an effigy at all, but rather a sealed stone coffin. Hermione looked this way and that before taking out her wand, pointing it at the coffin as discreetly as possible, and whispering some sort of spell or password.
Slowly and soundlessly the lid of the coffin slid aside to receive them. Again Hermione looked around, and this time Jeremy and Eren joined her. And strangely enough, though there were several people staring directly at them, they never seemed to react as if they were seeing anything strange, not even as Hermione and Jeremy climbed into the coffin, not even as the lid slid over them and they were swallowed by the darkness.
Not even Eren saw any of that. He saw Hermione cast a spell, but he did not see anything out of the ordinary happen. He saw her and Jeremy take a step closer, and the next moment they were gone. Curiously, he did not feel the slightest bit of alarm. Of course, that was because he knew where they had gone and thus did not feel very worried for them, but the other people who were staring directly at them knew nothing, or at least he hoped. This must've been a part of whatever protective spell Hermione had cast a moment ago, if indeed it was a spell she had cast. He could imagine it, a spell that would render the caster not invisible, but utterly uninteresting and forgettable. He turned his back to the coffin now and looked at the gathering. Loud, obnoxious, totally oblivious. All except for one, it appeared.
A white haired figure with the appearance of a granny sat hunched in a wheelchair, dressed head to toe in winter clothes so that Eren could only see her nose poking out slightly. He could not see her eyes, but he did not need to see them to feel them. He stared at the granny. The granny stared back. After maybe ten seconds she began to slowly turn the wheelchair away.