𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖉 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘

ACT I: Crown of Embers

Chapter 6: Through Bark & Shadow

Previously on Chapter 5:

Harry processed this information, trying to ignore the knot that had formed in his stomach. He'd always thought of Goblins as a bit intimidating, and the idea of seeking their help was both unsettling and a little reassuring—unsettling because Goblins were known for being ruthlessly efficient and calculating, and reassuring because they were practical. If they were the best at what they did, then maybe that was the direction he needed to go.

Harry lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind still replaying the week's events like a disjointed film. It had been a blur of lessons, half-formed conversations, and those moments that seemed to stretch into eternity—like Dumbledore stepping out of the shadows again when he and Neville were about to leave for Gringotts. It was almost as if he had always been there, lurking just behind the scenes. That whole exchange felt like something out of a strange, unspoken game, where Harry had no idea what the rules were, but he was being made to play anyway.

And then there was the conversation with Hermione. She'd asked him if everything was alright, her gaze too sharp, too careful. Harry had almost told her everything about what was happening with Neville, with Dumbledore, but something had stopped him. Maybe it was the way she looked at him—like she knew more than she let on. Or maybe it was the way her eyes never quite met his when the topic of the wizarding world's deeper layers came up.

It wasn't just Hermione that made him uneasy, though. Ginny... her gaze lingered on him in a way that unsettled him every time they were near each other. It wasn't the usual teasing or banter; it was something heavier. Something that felt like she was trying to figure him out, but in a way that made him feel exposed. Harry had always thought he could handle her gaze, handle the people around him, but lately, it felt like everyone was keeping a part of themselves hidden while he was left alone with his uncertainties.

And then there was Ron. Harry hadn't seen much of him over the week, but when he did, it felt different. More distant. The usual banter was absent, and Harry found himself withdrawing, not wanting to engage in the pointless chatter anymore. Every time Ron opened his mouth, it felt as though the divide between them grew wider, like something that couldn't be undone.

It was strange, the way the world shifted without warning. Every time Harry thought he had a grasp on something, something new would surface, unraveling it all over again. It made his head ache just thinking about it.

But everything wasn't lost. Despite the turmoil that seemed to follow him everywhere he turned, Harry had found a steadfast ally in Neville. Someone who listened without judgment, who helped without expecting anything in return. In a world where Harry was constantly expected to carry the weight of secrets and decisions far beyond his years, it was refreshing to have someone who simply... understood. Neville was quiet, yes, but he was dependable in ways Harry hadn't realized he needed. He had come through for Harry in ways that surprised him, especially after the recent events with Dumbledore. He had acted without hesitation when it mattered, showing a strength Harry hadn't seen in him before.

In fact, it was Neville's newfound determination that had inspired Harry to trust in his own plan. A plan to sneak out of Hogwarts. To go to Gringotts. They hadn't fully worked out the details yet—what mattered now was that they were doing something. They had learned to take action first and deal with the consequences later. It was a significant step for Neville, too. The shy, timid boy who had once tried to stop Harry from chasing after the Sorcerer's Stone in their first year seemed like a distant memory now. In his place was someone who had learned to face fear head-on, someone who wasn't afraid to stand by Harry no matter how difficult it might get.

But even with all the reassuring stability that came from their alliance, Harry couldn't shake the unease that simmered under his skin. His magic was off—strange, flickering bursts of power seemed to slip through his fingers at random. At first, Harry thought it was just him, maybe exhaustion or stress causing his senses to misfire. But when Neville caught him in one of those moments, he'd noticed the worried look that flickered in his friend's eyes.

"Harry," Neville had said one evening, his voice low with concern, "you've been acting... strange. Are you sure it's just stress?"

Harry had wanted to brush it off, but the truth lingered like a shadow. Something was wrong with his magic. It wasn't behaving as it should, and the deeper question of why was something he didn't want to face just yet.

They had come up with their plan in the days that followed—sneaking out of Hogwarts, making their way to Gringotts in search of answers. If nothing else, it felt like something they could control. For once, Harry didn't feel like the weight of the world was bearing down on him alone. And, in a strange way, it felt like Neville had found a piece of himself in the process, too.

But despite the uncertainty of his magic, Harry still found comfort in certain memories. One of his strangest—and fondest—memories had been that black dog.

The first time Harry had seen it, he had been walking down Privet Drive, a few weeks before the start of the school year. It had seemed out of place, a black dog that was so thin, it looked as though it had barely eaten for weeks. It was covered in fleas, its fur matted and wild, but there was something intelligent about the way it watched Harry. Almost as if it had been waiting for him.

At first, Harry had brushed it off as another stray, a creature lost and wandering. But the dog seemed to shadow him. It would follow him as he walked to the park, keeping a safe distance but never straying too far. And then, whenever Harry would stop—whether to sit on a bench or stare off into the horizon—the dog would approach, its eyes full of something deeper than just curiosity. It was like the animal was trying to understand him.

More than that, the dog seemed to want something from him. Harry hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but whenever the dog was near, he felt like there was a strange kind of connection. It wasn't a typical stray's wild, unapproachable energy. No, this was something different. The dog was… calmer. And when Harry would reach down to scratch its head, the creature would practically purr, rolling onto its back to let Harry playfully tussle with it. There was something comforting in those moments—like the dog wasn't just a stray but someone who had been searching for him, waiting for him.

The castle was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood or the distant howl of wind against the ancient stone walls. Midnight was fast approaching, and Harry stood by the window in the Gryffindor common room, staring out at the snow-covered grounds. Behind him, Neville was carefully going over the Marauder's Map, his brow furrowed with concentration, while Snuffles, the emaciated black dog, lay curled by the fire, his ears twitching occasionally.

"Alright," Neville whispered, his voice low but steady. "Patrols are light tonight. Filch is near the Astronomy Tower, Snape's in the dungeons, and McGonagall… well, she's just left the staff room." He glanced up at Harry. "We've got a clear window, but we'll need to move fast."

Harry nodded, pulling the Invisibility Cloak from his bag. "Let's hope the Twins' distractions hold. You ready?"

Neville hesitated but then gave a firm nod. "Ready."

Snuffles rose to his feet, shaking his scruffy coat and padding over to stand beside Harry. The dog's intelligent eyes seemed to gleam with anticipation, as if he fully understood what was about to happen.

Harry glanced down at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, Snuffles. Let's hope you're as sneaky as you look."

The three of them slipped out of the common room, Harry draping the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Neville. Snuffles, too large to fit, stayed just ahead, his dark fur blending into the shadows.

The corridors felt colder at night, the silence oppressive. Every step echoed, no matter how softly they tried to tread. Neville held the map tightly, his finger tracing their route.

"We'll need to pass the Trophy Room," he murmured. "Filch was near there earlier, but if the Twins did their job…"

As if on cue, a distant explosion echoed through the castle, followed by Peeves's cackling laughter.

"Filch is heading to the west wing," Neville said, relief evident in his voice. "The Twins bought us some time."

They hurried forward, careful to avoid the moving staircases. Snuffles paused occasionally, sniffing the air and growling softly before continuing. Twice, they had to duck into alcoves as Peeves floated by, muttering to himself about "students up to no good."

Near the Trophy Room, they froze as the soft glow of a lantern appeared ahead. Mrs. Norris slinked into view, her yellow eyes glowing ominously. Snuffles tensed, his hackles rising, but Harry placed a calming hand on his back.

"Stay," Harry whispered.

Mrs. Norris sniffed the air, her nose twitching. But before she could come closer, Snuffles let out a low, almost imperceptible whine and darted down a side corridor, drawing her attention. She bolted after him, her claws clicking against the stone floor.

"Good boy," Harry muttered, leading Neville forward.

They were halfway to the entrance hall when the map revealed an unexpected obstacle: Dumbledore, moving purposefully in their direction.

Neville's breath hitched. "He's coming straight for us. How does he always know?"

Harry's mind raced. "We can't go back. Where's the closest detour?"

Neville scanned the map. "There's a passage behind that tapestry ahead, but it's risky. It leads to the dungeons."

Harry didn't hesitate. "We'll take it."

They darted behind the tapestry, finding a narrow, winding staircase. The air grew colder as they descended, the flickering light of their wands barely illuminating the way.

"He's stopping," Neville whispered, glancing at the map. "He's right outside the tapestry."

Harry's grip tightened on his wand. "Do you think he knows?"

"Maybe." Neville's voice was grim. "But he's not moving. We might have a chance if we keep going."

Snuffles nudged Harry's leg, urging him forward. They pressed on, the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeons making every breath feel heavier.

At last, they emerged near the castle's outer wall, the cold night air biting at their skin. The faint scent of damp earth and pine from the Forbidden Forest filled Harry's lungs, and for a fleeting moment, the open night sky above felt like freedom. The forest loomed ahead, its tangled shadows a forbidding wall of darkness, but it offered cover.

"We made it," Neville breathed, his voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief.

Snuffles barked softly, his tail wagging as he bounded ahead, his form almost blending into the night. Harry allowed himself a brief smile, though his chest still felt tight with tension. "Don't get too comfortable yet. We need to get to Hogsmeade and figure out how to get to Gringotts before anyone realizes we're gone."

The two boys hurried forward, their breaths clouding in the icy air, the crunch of frost beneath their feet almost too loud in the silence. But just as they reached the forest's edge, Snuffles abruptly stopped. His ears perked up, his entire body going rigid as his nose twitched toward the direction of the Whomping Willow.

Before Harry or Neville could question him, the dog bolted, sprinting toward the menacing tree. Harry's stomach dropped.

"Snuffles! Are you mad?" Harry shouted, his voice rising in panic. He and Neville broke into a run, watching helplessly as Snuffles darted through the tree's thrashing branches.

The Whomping Willow roared to life, its massive boughs groaning as they swung with bone-crushing force. The wind whistled sharply as a branch narrowly missed Snuffles, crashing into the ground with a reverberating boom. Yet the dog moved with impossible agility, weaving through the chaos as though it were a well-rehearsed dance. His ragged form blurred in the half-light, and for a moment, Harry could have sworn he saw something unnaturally graceful in the way the dog moved—almost as though guided by magic.

Neville let out a strangled gasp as a branch as thick as a tree trunk slammed into the ground just inches from Snuffles. "He's going to get himself killed!"

But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the chaos stopped. Snuffles darted to the base of the tree and pressed his paw against a knot in its bark. The Whomping Willow froze mid-swing, its wrathful thrashing replaced with an eerie, deathlike stillness.

"What—how—" Neville stammered, staring at the motionless tree as though it had grown a second head.

Snuffles turned to look at them, his dark eyes practically glowing with impatience. With a sharp bark, he trotted toward a dark opening at the tree's base and disappeared inside.

"Did… did that dog just stop the Whomping Willow?" Neville asked, wide-eyed.

Harry nodded slowly, his heart still racing. He'd seen the Whomping Willow lash out at students who got too close—seen it crush a bird mid-flight once. But Snuffles had stopped it like he'd known exactly how.

Before Harry could answer, Snuffles poked his head back out of the hollow, barking sharply before vanishing again.

"I think he wants us to follow him," Harry said, glancing at Neville.

"Follow him? Into that?" Neville asked, his voice rising with panic. "Do you know how many stories I've heard about the Whomping Willow? I'm not even sure that dog isn't cursed!"

"Do you have a better idea?" Harry countered.

Neville hesitated, his face pale. But after a moment, he nodded grimly. "Fine. But if that dog leads us to our deaths, I'm haunting you."

The two boys climbed cautiously into the hollow beneath the Whomping Willow, the entrance just wide enough to crawl through. The tunnel inside was narrow and cold, with roots curling down from the ceiling like skeletal fingers. The only sound was the faint echo of Snuffles's paws padding ahead, and Harry had to fight the claustrophobia rising in his chest as they moved deeper into the earth.

The tunnel stretched on endlessly, the air growing damper and colder with each step. Just when Harry thought he couldn't take another minute of it, they emerged into a dusty, dimly lit room. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, and broken furniture lay scattered across the floor like the skeletons of long-forgotten memories. Harry's eyes darted around, his heart sinking as recognition dawned.

"The Shrieking Shack," he muttered under his breath. He'd heard the stories, of course—everyone at Hogwarts had. It was supposedly the most haunted place in Britain, though looking at it now, Harry thought it just looked… sad.

Snuffles stood in the center of the room, his tail wagging as he looked back at them. But before Harry could speak, the dog began to change.

The transformation was grotesque and unnatural, bones cracking and reshaping themselves as fur melted away to reveal pale, scarred skin. The figure that emerged was gaunt, his sharp cheekbones casting deep shadows over his hollow cheeks. His hair hung in tangled, matted strands that framed a face etched with lines of suffering and rage.

Tattoos snaked up his neck and down his arms—dark, intricate designs that seemed to shift and writhe in the dim light. Symbols Harry didn't recognize but instinctively knew to be dangerous. His robes hung loosely on his wiry frame, tattered and worn, and his hands—covered in faint scars—twitched at his sides as though itching for a wand.

But it was his eyes that stopped Harry cold. They burned with an intensity that pinned him in place, dark and searching, as though stripping away every layer of pretense. There was no malice there, but neither was there warmth—just a raw, unyielding power that sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

"Evening, boys," the man said, his voice low and gravelly, though there was a hint of amusement beneath it. His lips twisted into a crooked grin that didn't reach his eyes. "Hope you don't mind the detour—I thought it'd be rude not to say hello before you ran off to Gringotts."

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came. He didn't know who this man was—or what he wanted—but every instinct screamed that he was dangerous.

AN: Thank you to everyone for their kind comments. To those who still have no clue who the three mysterious people are, we ask you to hold off for just a bit longer. We are heading towards a major milestone, and things are going to become much more clearer, and a lot more convoluted at the same time.

For those people asking if we want our story published as artworks, we'd love to. This is a shared space for all of us, where we let our creative ideas flourish. Having said that, at no point of time are we interested in commissioning paid artworks of any of our series. If you feel inspired by our work to create one, make sure it is publicly available for free, and that you give us the credit due. Nothing more, nothing less.

Till next time,

Dragonstaff & Technomage