Chapter 35. The village of Odeila part 2.
The next morning, Jakob woke to the sight of Ella still sleeping soundly in her bed, her pelt draped over the others for extra warmth. Small puffs of mist escaped her mouth with each exhale, a soft rhythm that blended with the stillness of the cabin.
Jakob, who had sacrificed his own pelt the previous night, cursed Ivy under his breath. The redhead had been the key to his plan, but now he was freezing. No warming charms could fully replace the comfort of that enchanted fur. Still, her loyalty had been secured, and for now, that was enough.
Rising carefully, he stepped over to Ella's bedside. He lightly pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, checking for any sign of fever or cold. Her skin was warm, her breathing steady, and Jakob's lips formed into a faint smile as he watched her sleep.
He moved to the table, scribbling a quick note on a scrap of parchment:
Gone out for a while. Galleons on the table for breakfast and shopping.
Placing the note where she would see it, he donned his robes, muttering a warming charm as he stepped outside into the crisp morning air.
The snow from the previous night had thinned, and the paths had been cleared, leaving the village quieter than he'd expected. Most of the shopkeepers were just arriving, preparing their stalls for the day ahead, while the festival-goers were still tucked away in their cabins.
Jakob's first destination was clear. He spotted the old woman at her pelt stall, busy arranging her wares, and approached.
"Did I not sell you one yesterday, young man?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is it broken already?"
Jakob shook his head with a polite smile. "No, I gave it to someone who needed it more."
The woman chuckled, her weathered face softening. "Oh, isn't that a nice boy."
He paid for a new silver pelt, draping it over his shoulders as he felt its warmth seep into him. Satisfied, Jakob turned to head further down the path.
The fresh bread and stew aroma caught his attention as he walked, and his stomach growled loudly in agreement. He picked up his pace and followed the scent to an open tent lined with tables.
Toward the back, a blonde man with a thick moustache worked alongside his son, kneading dough and levitating it into a glowing oven.
"Hello," Jakob greeted, stepping inside. "Are you open?"
The man looked up, smiling warmly. "Yes, we're open. What can I get you? There's a menu just there." He pointed to a flyer resting on the wooden counter.
Jakob scanned the menu, his finger hovering over one unfamiliar word. "Hmm… I'll try this," he said, pointing to it.
The man nodded, his smile broadening as he turned to his son. "Mikael, kunden vill ha kalops. Släng in två brödbitar också; han ser hungrig ut."
Mikael stopped what he was doing and grabbed a large wooden spoon, ladling steaming stew into a sturdy wooden bowl. He placed it on a tray and pulled a long loaf of bread from the oven, slicing it into thick pieces.
"Would you like something to drink?" the plastered man asked as Jakob admired the steaming food.
"Coffee and water will be perfect," Jakob replied with a grateful nod.
Mikael handed him the tray, and Jakob paid a little extra for the service. Both father and son gave him small bows in thanks, and Jakob returned the gesture with a slight incline of his head before sitting down at one of the tables.
Ripping a piece of bread, Jakob dipped it into the rich stew. He blew on it gently before taking a bite, savouring the warmth and flavour that spread across his tongue.
After finishing breakfast, Jakob felt pleasantly full and ready to explore more of the festival. He wandered down paths he hadn't taken before, letting curiosity guide his steps. Eventually, the bustling village gave way to a quieter stretch of forest, the trees thinning until he came upon a large clearing.
A circular wooden stage stood in the centre of the clearing, about fifteen meters across. Intrigued, Jakob walked closer and climbed onto the platform with a light jump.
The stage was intricately carved, its wooden surface marked with elaborate symbols that twisted and connected in flowing patterns. The designs encircled a central altar, which was made of dark wood reinforced with iron. At its peak was a small spout positioned directly over the carvings below. Jakob frowned, stepping carefully around the altar as he examined the symbols.
The carvings formed a continuous design, winding outward from the altar to the edge of the stage. Seven empty cages stood evenly spaced around the perimeter, their open doors creaking slightly in the breeze.
It hit him then, a realization that made his stomach tighten. This is a ritual site.
"Gå ner därifrån!"
Jakob spun around, startled, and saw an older man approaching him. The man looked ancient, his face lined with age and wisdom. He carried a staff that seemed to grow from the earth itself, its surface rough with bark and adorned with moss and runes. His robe blended seamlessly with the forest, a patchwork of green, brown, and grey.
Jakob raised his hands defensively, palms out. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Swedish," he said quickly. "I was just admiring your work."
The man halted, his sharp gaze narrowing for a moment before softening. He nodded and began walking again, his steps slower. "I thought you were here to sabotage it," he started in a deep and grave voice. "But it is a pretty sight, isn't it?"
Jakob glanced back at the intricate carvings and nodded. "It really is. But… what is it? I've never seen a ritual like this before."
The old man chuckled, his grip on the staff tightening slightly. "You're curious, I see," he said. He extended a hand toward Jakob, who briefly hesitated before stepping forward to take it. He helped pull the man up onto the stage, the wood creaking faintly under their combined weight.
"Thank you, young man," the elderly said, straightening. He gestured to the platform with a sweeping motion of his staff.
"This is where the blót will happen," the old man said, gesturing to the altar.
Jakob tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression. "What is a blót?"
The man caught the glint of interest in the boy's eyes and smiled. "It's a form of ritual. This evening, we will sacrifice seven different males."
Jakob's gaze shifted to the altar, his brows furrowing. "Why males? And why seven?"
"Because seven is a magical, powerful number," the old man explained, his tone as if sharing a well-worn secret. "And males this time because it was females during the last blót. The gods enjoy a little variety." He winked, his weathered face crinkling with mischief.
Jakob's attention sharpened. "Will there be humans involved?"
"Of course," the man replied casually. "Seven men, seven goats, seven pigs, seven stallions, seven roosters, seven bulls, and seven sheep will all be sacrificed to ensure good fortune and health for the coming year." He counted off each category on his fingers in a calm and casual tone as though discussing the weather.
Jakob turned fully to the man, crossing his arms. The man didn't seem to even care about the younger boy's pose and instead asked, "have you prayed to the gods yet, boy?"
Jakob frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "No. Why would I do that?"
The old man chuckled, walking over to the altar to inspect the carved runes. He ran his fingers over the symbols, checking their alignment. "It's part of the blót," he said without looking up. "You pray to one of the statues, matching your wish to the god who can grant it. Then you tell them your desire. During the blót, if the gods favor you, they may grant your wish."
Jakob's scepticism was evident in his raised brow. "And this works? Doesn't sound like any ritual I've ever heard of."
The man laughed, his deep voice echoing across the clearing. He leaned on his staff for support, shaking his head. "Little boy, this is not a ritual. This is a blót. Rituals are about commanding magic, shaping it to your will. A blót, however, is about asking the gods for their favor. The magic released during a blót is so powerful that even old magical creatures awaken from their slumber to bask in its energy."
Jakob's expression darkened slightly. "That sounds… dangerous."
The old wizard glanced at him, puzzled by his tone. Jakob continued with a steady voice. "If—and it's a big if—I'm granted a gift by the gods, wouldn't I still have to pay a price?"
The man straightened, his staff tapping against the wood as he chuckled softly. "Boy, what do you think the sacrifices are for?"
Jakob's arms tightened across his chest. "What if the gift costs more than the sacrifices offered?"
For a moment, the man seemed taken aback, as though no one had ever asked him that question before. Scratching his chin, he muttered, "I suppose the gods wouldn't grant it in the first place. Or… perhaps they'd be benevolent and grant it anyway."
Jakob's gaze lingered on the altar, doubting the man fully knew what he was talking about.
"Well, off you go now," the man said, waving his hand dismissively. "Make sure your wish matches the god you're asking for help."
Jakob nodded, jumping down from the stage. He took a few steps before stopping abruptly, turning back to the old druid, who was still watching him with a knowing smile.
"I didn't catch your name, sir," Jakob called.
The man lifted a hand in a casual wave. "Harbard," he replied. "And yours?"
"Quade," Jakob said with a faint smile. "Jakob Quade."
The man's grin widened as he gave a slight nod. "Safe travels, Jakob Quade."
As Jakob continued down the path, leaving the stage behind, a crow swooped down from the trees and perched itself on the old man's shoulder.
Harbard glanced at the bird, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I suppose Sif was right about him," he murmured, his voice hinting amusement.
The crow cawed in response, its dark eyes gleaming as it shifted its weight.
Harbard chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing. "Yes, yes," he said, stroking the bird's feathers. "We'll see what becomes of this Jakob Quade. But he has a future… a future that might change everything."
The crow let out another sharp caw as Harbard turned his gaze back toward the path Jakob had taken.
Jakob stood once again in the hall of statues, his gaze sweeping the space for any sign of Syr. The tall, imposing figures loomed over him, casting shadows across the wooden floor as the firelight flickered. But the blonde woman was nowhere to be seen.
Sighing, Jakob began walking among the statues, his boots echoing softly. He stopped before Odin's likeness, staring at the one-eyed god with his two perched ravens.
If I prayed to Odin, I'd pray for power, he thought, his brow furrowing. If I prayed to Freya, I'd ask for magic. Thor… he doesn't have anything I'd want, I think. And the others? I don't even know who they are.
He paced slowly back and forth, glancing occasionally at the other statues, his mind racing with indecision. Finally, he found himself standing in front of Freya once more. He tilted his head back, gazing up at her serene yet commanding face.
I already have power, Jakob mused bitterly. The kind given to me by my father. And look where that's gotten me. His jaw tightened. But magic? Real, untethered magic? That's what I need.
Looking around the hall, he observed other witches and wizards deep in their prayers. His eyes lingered on an older man covered in intricate rune tattoos, his head bowed as he mumbled reverently to a statue Jakob didn't recognize.
With a slight shake of his head, Jakob turned back to Freya's statue. He felt a flicker of nervousness as he lowered his head, clasping his hands together awkwardly.
"Freya," he began, his voice low and uncertain, "I come to you seeking a gift. I wish to extend my magical powers. I need a larger magical reserve, and I need…"
He hesitated, his words faltering as his thoughts turned inward. What am I even doing? The question hit him like a weight, pulling his gaze briefly to the ground.
After a moment of silence, he whispered, "Freya, I wish for guidance. Help me find my path." He paused, then quickly added, almost as an afterthought, "And if you could also increase my magical reserves, that would be great. Thanks."
Jakob raised his head and froze. Someone was standing beside him.
He turned sharply, only to see Ivy looking up at the statue.
"You really need to stop following me," Jakob said flatly, unimpressed.
Ivy frowned, crossing her arms. "I wasn't following you," she snapped. "I'm here to make my own prayers." She closed her eyes, ignoring his gaze, and began whispering her wish.
When she finished, she opened her eyes to find Jakob staring at her with an odd expression.
"What?" she asked, her tone edged with irritation.
Jakob raised an eyebrow. "Ivy, do you even know what a blót is?"
She frowned, shaking her head. "No. Why?"
Jakob chuckled, the sound tinged with amusement. "Well, I hope that wish was worth it. Go out tonight and follow the crowd. If you don't, your wish won't come true."
Ivy blinked, unsure whether to believe him, but Jakob waved dismissively as he turned to leave.
"See you at the end of the festival tonight," he said over his shoulder, disappearing between the towering statues.
The redhead watched Jakob's figure disappear, her frown softening into something more contemplative.
She turned back to the statue before her, its serene expression seeming to regard her with quiet judgment.
"I know he looks like a jackass," she whispered hastily, her voice barely audible. "But I still want that."
With a final glance at the goddess, Ivy straightened her posture and hurried away.
As lunchtime approached, Jakob wandered through the festival, retracing his steps in an attempt to find his way back to their cabin. Along the way, he spotted two familiar figures in the crowd.
"Ella, Susie," he called, striding toward them. "What have you two been up to?"
The pair turned, smiling at him as Ella excitedly held up a bag. "We found this amazing shop and bought a bunch of books on Norse mythology!" she said, practically bouncing with excitement.
Jakob chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course you did."
The three of them decided to head for lunch together, and as they ate, Jakob mentioned the blót taking place that evening.
"What's a blót?" Ella asked, her curiosity instantly piqued.
Jakob set down his fork and leaned back slightly. "It's… a different kind of ritual," he explained carefully. "For the gods. Sacrifices, prayers, that sort of thing."
Ella's eyes lit up. "Mum, can I go with Jakob?" she asked eagerly, turning to Susie with pleading eyes.
Susie opened her mouth to respond, but Jakob, standing behind Ella, quickly gestured toward her with exaggerated motions—holding up seven fingers, dragging an imaginary line across his throat, and sticking out his tongue with mock dramatics.
Susie's eyes widened briefly before she cleared her throat. "Absolutely not," she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument.
"Mum, please," Ella tried, her voice rising in protest. "It sounds so interesting—"
"No," Susie interrupted, shaking her head. "This is not up for discussion."
Jakob, standing beside her, gave an approving nod. "She's right, Ella," he said, surprisingly supportive.
Ella crossed her arms and pouted, but she knew better than to argue further.
The rest of the afternoon was spent shopping, and by the time they returned to their cabin, their arms were full of bags containing their purchases. Ella eagerly sorted through her treasures while Jakob reclined on his bed, flipping through his latest acquisition—a book on Norse rituals written entirely in Swedish.
Ella glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "I don't understand why you bought a book you can't even read,"
Jakob lowered the book slowly, staring at her as though she'd just said something outrageous. "Did I just hear a Ravenclaw say that?" he asked with mock disbelief.
Ella frowned in confusion as Jakob turned his head to look out the window, exhaling in visible relief.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her curiosity mounting as she followed his gaze.
Jakob smirked, his voice deadpan. "For a second, I thought hell had frozen over. But then I remembered—it's winter. So, false alarm."
Ella rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she returned to sorting her collection of brightly coloured stones. Jakob chuckled softly, flipping another page in his unreadable book.
When evening came, Jakob draped his pelt over his shoulders, said goodbye to Susie and Ella, and stepped outside into the winter night. The cold bit at his face, but the air was still, and the shimmering lights floating above gave the village a magical glow.
Looking up, he noticed the moon was hidden, veiled behind thick clouds. His gaze lowered to the path ahead, where a steady stream of witches and wizards was making their way toward the blót. Some carried torches, their flames flickering softly, while others used their wands to light the trail. Jakob retrieved his own wand, murmuring, "Lumos," as he joined the procession.
The crowd moved in near silence, their breaths fogging the air, their faces lit with quiet excitement. Jakob observed them, noting the reverence in their expressions as the path led them into the large clearing.
When they arrived, Jakob stopped in his tracks, momentarily awestruck.
The stage he had stood on earlier now seemed much smaller, dwarfed by the sheer number of people encircling it—easily more than 1,500. Atop the wooden platform stood three figures draped in black robes. Animal skulls adorned their shoulders, giving them a creepy, otherworldly appearance. Their hoods cast deep shadows over their faces, making them seem more like statues than men.
Jakob followed the crowd, finding his place among the throng encircling the stage. The buzz of whispered conversations faded as one of the priests stepped forward. Raising his wand to his throat, he cast a Sonorus charm, and his voice rang out clear and commanding over the gathering.
"Tonight is no ordinary blót," the priest declared. "This is the darkest night, when the gods hear our call more clearly than ever. They will reveal themselves only to the worthy, but even standing here, before the gods, is an honour few can claim."
Jakob felt the weight of the moment settles over the crowd. The priest's words resonated, and the following stillness seemed to thrum with anticipation.
"I see you came," a soft voice whispered beside him.
Jakob turned his head and saw Syr standing beside him, her presence both familiar and welcoming.
"I wondered if I'd see you again," Jakob whispered back, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Syr returned his smile, her fingers brushing lightly against his cheek. The unexpected touch sent a sudden wave of dizziness through him, making him sway slightly.
Jakob opened his mouth to question her, but she raised a finger to her lips.
"Shh," she murmured, her gaze shifting to the stage. "It's about to begin."
Jakob followed her gaze as the first sacrifice was brought forward, his chest tightening in anticipation.
Now clad in armour and holding a spear, the blonde woman stepped forward into the crowd. Jakob instinctively raised a hand to stop her, but the world around him began to spin. His vision blurred, and before he could react, she disappeared into the throng.
He turned his attention back to the stage, where a sheep trotted forward and lay on the altar as though willingly offering its life. One of the priests raised a dagger and, with a swift motion, sliced its throat. The other two priests chanted in low, rhythmic tones as blood spilt down the altar, filling the carved symbols etched into the wooden floor.
A strange wave of satisfaction washed over Jakob. He smiled, a serene and unexplainable peace settling over him.
As the sacrifices continued—each animal stepping forward in its turn—Jakob's euphoria only grew. The sight of the blood flowing through the carved patterns seemed to pulse with energy, and he felt it course through him, making him almost giddy.
When the first human sacrifice walked onto the stage, a man dressed in white robes, Jakob felt a surge of excitement rises within him. The man lay down on the altar without hesitation, and when the priest's blade cut his throat, Jakob felt a strange and primal urge. It was as if he wanted to roar in triumph and collapse in exhaustion simultaneously.
Each subsequent sacrifice heightened the sensation until it became almost unbearable. By the time the seventh man's life was taken, Jakob's hands clutched his head, the spinning world around him pressing in from all sides.
The moment the final sacrifice was complete, Jakob's arms fell limply to his sides, and he tipped forward, his legs giving out beneath him. Before he hit the ground, a pair of strong hands caught him, steadying him.
Jakob looked up and found Syr's face gazing down at him, her blue eyes sharp and concerned.
"Are you okay, Jakob?" she asked softly.
Jakob smiled faintly, his voice unsteady. "I'm perfectly fine, beautiful woman. Just… need some fresh air."
Syr's lips curved into a knowing smile, and she guided him gently out of the crowd. Jakob leaned on her for support, his hand brushing hers. She caught it and squeezed, her thumb tracing slow, comforting circles over his fingers.
Behind them, the priest's voice echoed over the crowd, declaring the blót complete. Cheers erupted, people clapping and shouting their praises to the gods. Jakob winced at the overwhelming noise, his head pounding as he paused to regain his balance.
Syr glanced back at him, her expression amused but patient. Without a word, she led him away—not toward the village, as he had expected, but deeper into the forest.
Jakob didn't protest. Instead, a soft laugh escaped him, growing with each passing second as the absurdity of it all bubbled to the surface. Syr joined in, her laughter echoing warmly through the shadowy canopy of trees as they walked.
"Where are we?" Jakob asked between chuckles, his voice tinged with both confusion and amusement.
They had been walking for a while, and the forest around them grew darker, the distant lights of the village long gone. Jakob glanced at Syr's face, only to see it twist and warp before his eyes.
His stomach churned as dizziness overtook him, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Syr's laughter rang in his ears, and despite his discomfort, he found himself laughing too.
When he opened his eyes again, he stumbled, reaching out for a tree that wasn't there. He fell back into the snow, landing with a soft thud, the world spinning above him.
Before he could move, Syr straddled him, her giggles bubbling over as she leaned down.
"Jakob, are you alright?" she asked, her voice soft and teasing as her face hovered close to his.
"You are so beautiful, you know that? Your eyes…"
Jakob's breath hitched, another urge rising within him.
"Screw it," he whispered, his hand lifting to gently caress her cheek. Guiding her closer, he let his lips brush against hers.
At first, there was hesitation—a moment of uncertainty. Then, slowly, she responded, her lips parting as his tongue brushed against hers. Syr's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, her body pressing against his as the cold snow melted away beneath their shared heat.
Jakob didn't know how long they lay there, entwined in the snow. Time felt irrelevant, lost in the intensity of the moment.
When they finally broke the kiss, Jakob opened his eyes, his chest heaving.
But his heart stopped at the sight above him.
"Ivy?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.
The red-haired girl stared down at him. A small smile played on her—soft, almost tender—lips, something Jakob had never seen from her before. "Yeah?" she whispered, her breath visible in the icy air.
Jakob blinked once, then again, slower this time, as if trying to ground himself in reality.
"Where is Syr?" he asked with a low voice, edged with confusion as his gaze darted around, searching the shadows.
Ivy, who was still straddled over him, her red hair catching the faint shimmer of the snow, frowned. "Who's Syr?" she questioned in genuine bewilderment.
Jakob's lips parted, but no words came. The fog in his mind refused to clear, making it impossible to puzzle his fragmented thoughts. Before he could even attempt a response, Ivy's voice cut through again, sharper this time.
"Why did I kiss you?" She questioned as though she was asking herself. Then her eyes widened as she continued her questioning. "Why did you kiss me?" she demanded, leaning closer. Her green eyes locked onto his with a mixture of confusion and shock.
The haze gripping Jakob's thoughts shattered all at once, the reality of what had just happened washing over him like an icy shower. His emotions, which had caught up, began to ripple through his body, his hands flexing instinctively at his sides as he began to process the situation.
Without a word, he shoved Ivy roughly to the side and pushed himself to his feet with a sudden, almost frantic urgency.
"Hey!" Ivy yelped, stumbling back before landing unceremoniously on her bum in the snow. She huffed, brushing flakes from her sleeves as she shot him a glare. "What the bloody hell was that for?"
Jakob ignored her completely, brushing the snow off his robes with sharp, almost disgusted motions. He stepped forward, his boots crunching with each step as he scanned the forest. The glow of the village was gone, swallowed by the dark, and the trees seemed to loom taller, closing in around them.
His gaze darted through the shadows, his jaw tightening as flickers of memory surfaced—disjointed flashes of Syr, the blót, and the unbearable weight of the moment before. "This can't be happening," he muttered, barely audible.
Jakob froze mid-step, his body stiffening as though the air itself had turned solid. His back remained to her, the faint rise and fall of his shoulders the only sign he was still breathing. His head tilted slightly, almost imperceptibly, as though straining to catch a sound too faint for most to notice, something hidden in the rustle of leaves and distant forest whispers.
Then it came—a sharp snap of a twig, shattering the stillness like glass underfoot. The sound snapped his focus to the left. Without hesitation, he spun around his wand already in his hand.
"Lumos," he muttered, the tip of his wand casting a pale beam of light into the dense, shadowed trees. The glow barely pierced the darkness, but it was enough to reveal Ivy still sitting in the snow, staring at him with wide eyes.
"You actually kissed me?" she asked, her voice still soft and bewildered, as though the realization was only now settling in.
Another sound—this one closer—came from his right. Jakob spun toward it, the wandlight slicing through the trees as his heartbeat quickened.
"What are you doing?" Ivy called from behind him, adopting a more worried tone. "Are you just going to leave me here?"
He didn't respond. His wand remained fixed on the forest ahead, but after a tense moment, he turned back, striding toward her.
"Ivy, get up," he said sharply in a low but commanding tone.
Before she could argue, he reached down, gripping her arm to pull her to her feet.
"Hey, ouch! What the bloody hell are you—"
Jakob clamped a hand over her mouth, his eyes scanning the trees as he leaned close.
"Quiet," he whispered grimly. "We're not alone. Something's watching us. Take out your wand and stand back-to-back with me."
Ivy froze, her confusion giving way to fear as she saw the intensity in the Slytherin boy's expression. She gave a shaky nod, fumbling with her pocket until her wand was in her hand. Turning as instructed, she pressed her back against his, her breath quickening in the cold air.
"Lumos," she whispered, her voice trembling as her wand emitted a weak glow. " what… what did you see?"
Jakob didn't answer immediately, his wand sweeping toward a nearby twig that snapped under the invisible weight.
"Something black with yellow eyes," he finally answered. "Do you know any fire spells?"
"Yes," Ivy replied, her voice barely audible. "But, Jakob, I still have my Trace. What if—"
"You won't be tracked in another country," Jakob interrupted, his gaze darting between the trees as he shifted his stance. "Besides, this isn't about rules anymore. This is a about survival."
Ivy's fingers curled tighter around her wand, the strain sending a dull ache through her knuckles. "What is it?" she barely whispered, fear threading through each syllable.
Jakob's jaw tightened. "I don't know. I just heard that the blót could lure magical creatures to it. Whatever it is, I think it's here now."
Another sound—a low rustling, followed by an eerie silence—sent a shiver down both their spines.
Jakob spun around at the sound of Ivy's scream, his wand instinctively raised. A massive black wolf emerged from the shadows, its hulking frame illuminated by the pale glow of their Lumos spells. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto them as it prowled forward, its low growl reverberating through the frozen air. Sharp fangs glistened in the light, each one reflecting the fury of the creature's snarl.
"Shit—a Helvördr," Jakob hissed under his breath. "Get behind me." He grabbed Ivy's arm and yanked her back as he raised his wand.
"Bombarda!"
The spell exploded against the wolf's flank, sending it skidding to the side. Snow flew up in a flurry, but when the beast regained its footing, it only seemed angrier.
"Why didn't that hurt it?" Ivy asked, her voice trembling as she took a half-step back, her free hand reaching out toward Jakob, seeking his safety.
The Quade heir didn't have time to respond. The wolf lunged, its jaws wide open, aiming for both of them. He shoved Ivy hard to the side, his own body twisting in the opposite direction to avoid the snapping teeth. The beast sailed between them, landing heavily a few meters away.
Without wasting a second, Jakob pointed his wand at the creature's exposed side. "Sectis et inficiunt!"
A sickly blue jet of light erupted from his wand, slamming into the wolf's front leg. Flesh tore away in long, jagged strips, and the beast howled in pain.
For a moment, Jakob glimpsed the raw, blackened muscle beneath the creature's fur, the curse searing into it. Relief flickered for the briefest second, but it vanished as quickly as it came. The flesh shuddered, knitting back together with a speed that made the teenage boy's stomach drop. His eyes darted to the horrified redhead beside him.
"Ivy, run!" he commanded with an urgency even the black wolf seemed to notice.
But she didn't move. Her wand trembled at her side, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She stood frozen, her wide eyes glued to the scene as Jakob and the wolf began circling each other like predators, sizing up one another, waiting for the other's next move.
The beast lowered its head, a guttural growl rolling out, making the snow tremble beneath its feet. It lunged without warning, claws ripping through the icy ground as it aimed for Jakob's neck.
Jakob jumped to the side, the swipe of the wolf's claws skimming so close he felt the air shift. He hit the frozen ground hard and rolled, the snow clinging to his robes. He was back on his feet in one fluid motion, his wand already aimed at the hulking figure, turning for another strike.
He didn't hesitate. His wand flicked toward the nearest tree. "Filum Mortis!" The tree's base glowed faintly, a pale yellow light sparking to life. He turned quickly and ran as fast as he could.
He repeated the spell on a second tree as his feet pounded against the snow; the dots glimmered like beacons marking his plan.
Behind him, the wolf thundered closer and closer, its hot breath licking at the back of his neck. Jakob dropped into a forward slide just as the beast lunged, its massive body soaring over him.
A sharp slicing sound tore through the air as the magical strip severed cleanly through the beast's lower jaw and forelegs. Ivy let out a scream, her hand flying to her mouth as the creature collapsed into the snow in front of Jakob. Its severed limbs skidded across the icy ground, leaving streaks of dark red blood against the pristine, snow-covered forest floor.
The Potter girl instinctively took a step forward but halted as she saw Jakob raising a hand, his total focus locked on the twitching beast before them.
The Helvördr let out a low whimper, its massive body convulsing as blood spread across the snow in dark, widening pools.
Jakob exhaled sharply, frustration tightening his features as his eyes caught the movement of the severed stumps, the ragged edges of flesh already shifting and knitting together. Even the gaping void where its lower jaw had been began to twist, the regeneration crawling relentlessly forward.
Without a second thought, Jakob reached into his robes and pulled out his crimson knife. He prayed silently to whatever force might listen, hoping the runes etched into it would be enough.
He drove the blade down, the metal sinking deep into the wolf's skull. The creature convulsed violently, its regeneration slowing down but not entirely stopping.
Jakob's jaw clenched as he yanked the knife free, warm blood splattering across his hand and face. With a sharp inhale, he raised the blade again and plunged it back down in a wild fury.
"Die, you piece of shit!" he snarled, his voice raw with rage.
Another stab. Hot blood sprayed onto his face, dripping down his chin.
"You think you can attack me?" he growled, his voice trembling with adrenaline as he slammed the knife into the beast again.
The wolf whimpered weakly, its body jerking in a last, feeble attempt to flee. The motion barely registered with Jakob, his focus consumed by rage.
"you were never the hunter here, I was!" he spat, raising the blade for the final strike.
The knife came down hard, striking something vital. The wolf's glowing eyes dimmed, its massive body giving a single shudder before falling still in the blood-soaked snow.
Jakob staggered back, his chest heaving as he stared at the lifeless creature beneath him.
When he finally looked up, he saw Ivy watching him. Her wide-eyed stare wasn't just fear—it was something more, something deeper. She didn't flinch at the blood splattered across his face, nor did she move away from the rage that still simmered in his eyes.
Instead, she stared at him with an intensity that might have unsettled Jakob, had he noticed.
Jakob lowered himself to the snow beside the felled beast, his breathing uneven as he rested his forearms on his knees.
Blood from the Warg stained the snow around him, its warmth quickly fading in the chill of the night.
Jakob lowered himself to the snow beside the fallen beast, his breath ragged as he leaned his forearms on his knees, the knife still clutched in his hand.
His gaze fell to the dark pools of blood spreading around the creature, already beginning to lose their warmth. The edges of the crimson stains crystallized in the icy air, slowly hardening into frost.
A few feet away, Ivy waited, hesitating to approach until Jakob glanced her way and gave a small, approved nod.
Taking a shaky breath, she stepped forward, her eyes flicking between the lifeless creature and the boy smeared with its blood.
"What… what was that thing?" she asked barely above a whisper as she stared at the grotesque remains of the Warg, its mangled body frozen in a twisted, unnatural shape.
Jakob didn't look at her immediately, focused on steadying his breath. "That was a Helvördr," he said finally with a low and rough voice. "The Norse believe it's a descendant of the great Fenrir. After meeting it…" He gestured at the beast with his knife, shaking his head. "I'm not about to disagree. It wasn't easy to kill."
Ivy's eyes lingered on the glowing runes etched into Jakob's knife. She took a step closer, her voice quieter now. "What did you do? That magic… it seemed dark."
Jakob rolled his eyes, a sharp exhale escaping him as he glanced at her. "Oh, here we go," he muttered. "That's why you stayed on the sideline, Miss Light Spells. You probably think I should've killed it with butterflies and the power of love."
Ivy's face flushed with indignation. She opened her mouth to retort, but Jakob was already on his feet, his expression shifting from frustration to alarm.
"Jakob…" Her voice faltered, the sharpness dissolving into a shaky, fearful whisper. "There aren't more of them… right? Please tell me we're alone."
He didn't answer. His gaze scanned the dark treeline, his body tense as his hand tightened around his knife. Without warning, he grabbed Ivy's wrist, pulling her into a run.
"Jakob, wait—what's happening?" she demanded, stumbling to keep pace as he dragged her through the snow.
They ran for what felt like minutes before Jakob came to an abrupt stop. Spinning slowly, he turned in a full circle, pocketing his knife and raising his wand. His jaw tightened as he muttered under his breath.
"They're surrounding us," he began grimly. "I thought I could shake them, but these woods…" He paused, his head tilting slightly as if listening for something. "They're making the sounds bounce in different directions. I can't pin them down."
"Who?" Ivy murmured, her voice barely audible, a tremor running through her as she took a small step closer to Jakob.
She heard it then. Low groans, distant at first but steadily growing louder. The sound made her skin prickle, like something cold and unseen crawling up her back. It wasn't human. It didn't even sound like an animal.
Jakob pointed his wand toward the trees ahead. "Draugr," he said with a cold and steady voice.
The moans grew closer, joined by the faint shuffle of feet and the creak of ancient, brittle bones. Shadows moved in the dark, their forms just beyond the reach of their Lumos spells.
Ivy's breath hitched. "What.. what are Draugr?" she asked with an unmistakable fear in her voice.
Jakob didn't look at her, his wand held firmly in front of him. "Corpses," he replied tersely. "But not quiet dead. And not really alive either."
A guttural groan came from their left, closer this time. Ivy turned toward the sound, her wandlight shaking as she caught a glimpse of pale, leathery skin and empty, glowing blue eyes.
"They're restless spirits trapped in their bodies," Jakob continued, his voice tightening. "Hungry for the living."
Another groan. Then another, coming from all directions. The shadows around them seemed to multiply, the figures emerging slowly from the dark.
"Stay close," Jakob commanded, his voice dropping to a growl.
Ivy spun at every groan, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. Her breaths came shallow and quick, and her arms hung stiff at her sides, fingers twitching like she couldn't decide whether to raise her wand or run.
"Ivy!" Jakob snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through her fear as he saw her reaction. "Either you act, or we both die. I need your help. Cast Incendio and aim for the parts that are mostly bone and rotting flesh. Got it?"
Ivy nodded, her hand trembling as she tightened her grip on her wand. She stepped back into position with a deep breath, their shoulders brushing as they stood back-to-back.
Jakob's eyes locked onto the first draugr that emerged from the shadows. It shambled closer, its rusted armour clinking faintly with each uneven step. The creature had likely been a Viking warrior in life, its skeletal frame still draped in tatters of flesh and snow-dusted leather. A massive axe dragged through the snow behind it, leaving a jagged trail in its wake. Despite its missing left arm, Jakob didn't doubt the creature could wield the weapon if it got close enough.
But it was the glowing blue orbs in its skull—its unblinking, unnatural eyes—that sent a chill down his spine.
"Incendio!" Jakob's voice rang out.
His wand ignited in a fiery arc, the flames licking forward like a striking serpent. The blaze connected with the draugr's chest, engulfing it in a violent eruption of fire. The creature shrieked, an ear-piercing wail that echoed through the forest like a death knell. Ivy flinched at the sound, her hands trembling as she tried to hold her wand steady.
The flames lit up the clearing, revealing the full horror around them.
Fifteen draugr closed in, their forms varying from hulking men in decayed armour to children wielding rusted blades. Some dragged weapons behind them—axes, swords, and shields—while one held a bow, an arrow already nocked and drawn.
"Take out the one with the bow!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.
She hesitated for a split second before raising her wand. The flames danced at the tip as she levelled it toward her target.
"Incendio!" Ivy cried.
A fiery projectile erupted from her wand, colliding with the bow-wielding draugr. The flames consumed it instantly, but not before its arrow loosed, cutting through the air with a high-pitched swoshing sound.
Jakob moved without hesitation. He shoved Ivy to the ground, stepping into her place just as the arrow struck, burying itself deep into his shoulder with a sickening thud.
"Ahhh!" he gasped, staggering for a moment as pain flared through him. His free hand clawed at the arrow's shaft, but his eyes burned with unrelenting rage.
He turned his wand toward the advancing draugr, his voice roaring above the chaos. "Incendio!"
Fireballs erupted from his wand, hurtling toward the undead like falling meteors. The impact sent sparks flying, and each hit lit up the clearing in bursts of flame and shadow.
Ivy, still crouched, watched in awe as Jakob moved like a force of nature. His fireballs tore through their enemies, illuminating his face in flashes of red and gold. Her fear melted away momentarily, replaced by something fierce and unshakable.
She rose to her feet, her voice trembling with newfound strength. "Ignis flagellum!"
A whip of fire burst from her wand, crackling like a living creature as it lashed forward. Ivy spun, the fiery tendril slicing through one of the draugr, severing it cleanly into three smouldering pieces.
The two teens stood back-to-back, their wands blazing as they unleashed hell upon the undead. Jakob's fireballs struck with precision, sending draugr stumbling backwards in flames. Ivy's flame whip danced through the air, slicing through flesh and bone.
The forest became a battlefield of fire and shadow.
Jakob laughed, the sound wild and untamed as adrenaline coursed through him. "This is fun!" he shouted, hurling another fireball into the chest of a charging draugr.
Ivy screamed as she swung her whip, the flames wrapping around a skeletal warrior before yanking it apart with a feral grin.
If anyone had been watching from the forest's edge, they would have seen two figures surrounded by blazing carnage. A raven-haired boy hurled fireballs with impossible speed and precision, his movements far surpassing his years. Beside him, a red-haired girl wielded her flame whip like a weapon forged in the heart of a volcano, her fierce cries echoing through the woods.
The draugr fell one by one, their cries swallowed by the roar of fire.
When the last of them crumbled to ash, the clearing fell silent. The snow, once pristine, was blackened with soot and littered with corpses.
Ivy rested her hands on her knees, panting heavily as her wand slipped slightly in her grip. "That…" she began in a shaky voice, "was insane."
"good job," Jakob commended, clearly impressed as he scanned their surroundings to ensure the area was clear. His gaze shifted back to Ivy, his brow lifting slightly. "Where did you learn that spell?"
Before Ivy could answer, Jakob's expression shifted, his frown deepening as he glanced at the arrow lodged in his shoulder. Without hesitation, he pulled his crimson knife from his robes, biting down on its hilt.
With a swift, brutal motion, he snapped the arrow's shaft. The pain was immediate and sharp, his jaw tightening as a muffled groan escaped him. Ivy winced, watching in horror as Jakob gritted his teeth, took a few calming breaths, and yanked the remaining piece out in one hard pull.
"Stop! You can't just do that!" Ivy exclaimed, rushing to his side as he swayed slightly. Her hands hovered, unsure if she should steady him or examine the wound. "How are you going to heal it? You could—"
Jakob cut her off with a growl, his wand already aimed at his shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath—an incantation Ivy didn't recognize—but nothing happened. His face twisted in frustration as he exhaled sharply.
"Fuck, it hurts," he muttered, the words coming out in almost a snarl as he leaned his head back.
"Did the spell work?" Ivy asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking between his wound and his face.
Jakob shot her a glare, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, yeah. I'm completely fine now. Thanks for asking."
Before she could respond, a faint red glow began to emanate from the wound. Ivy's eyes widened as she watched the gash slowly knit itself together, the torn skin sealing and leaving only a faint scar behind.
"You know healing magic?" she asked surprised.
Jakob smirked faintly, his gaze flicking to her. "You don't?" He paused, his tone shifting to something more curious. "But you still haven't answered my question."
Ivy crossed her arms, matching his smirk with one of her own. "Dad taught Harry and me. I got the hang of it, but Harry…" She chuckled. "Let's just say it didn't go as well for him."
"Understandable," Jakob replied, his voice carrying a rare note of approval. "It's not exactly a second-year spell. Nice work."
Ivy blinked, caught off guard by the compliment, but Jakob had already turned his attention to one of the fallen draugr. She watched as he crouched over the remains, examining a sword still clutched in its bony fingers.
The blade was ancient, its steel darkened with age but marked with intricate runes that glimmered faintly in the moonlight. Jakob pried it free, standing and holding it up with a small, triumphant smile.
"Souvenir," he said simply, giving the blade a small swing.
Ivy's eyes darted between the trees, each towering trunk casting long, uneven shapes in the faint wandlight. Her breaths came shorter now, each one a little sharper, as though the forest was drawing closer, tightening its grip around them. The adrenaline that had driven her earlier now left a dull ache in her limbs, replaced by the creeping understanding of just how far they had strayed.
"Jakob," she said, scanning the shadows again. Her voice was steady, but the faint tremor at the end betrayed her. "We're even more lost now. What do we do?"
Jakob didn't respond right away. He held the sword in a loose grip, his fingers brushing the runes etched into the blade as though feeling for a story the symbols might reveal. The metal caught a brief glint of her wand's light, and without looking at her, he slid it back into his belt.
"We'll figure it out," he said, his tone strangely casual as he shrugged. "But first, we need to get back to the wolf."
"What?" Ivy's voice rose before she could stop herself, her words ricocheting off the surrounding trees like pebbles striking stone.
"Quiet," he hissed, raising a finger to his lips as his eyes scanned the spaces between the trees. He tilted his head slightly, waiting, listening, every muscle in his body tense for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever in Ivy's mind. "We don't know if more of those things are nearby."
When it seemed like they were still safe, Jakob began moving before Ivy could argue, his boots crunching softly through the snow. "If we find the wolf," he continued, his voice low and almost sounding like a teacher, "we'll find our trail. It's simple, really."
Ivy's shoulders sagged as she let out a resigned exhale. She followed in his footsteps, her wand trembling slightly as the dim light it cast stretched their shadows into crooked shapes against the untouched white snow.
Jakob's attention stayed fixed on the trail, his boots pressing into the shallow tracks they had left behind. As they approached the clearing, the hulking shape of the black wolf's carcass emerged from the snow, still as grotesque and motionless as when they had left it. He moved toward it without hesitation, his gaze scanning the ground around the creature.
Jakob crouched beside the body, his eyes scanning the undisturbed snow. Only their two sets of footprints marked the path leading to this point. Satisfied there had been nothing here but them and the dead wolf, he straightened, brushing the snow from his hands before turning to Ivy.
"Come here, it's safe", he said, motioning for her to approach the wolf.
Ivy approached warily, her wand clenched in her hand. Jakob pointed at the creature.
"Point your wand and say Effusus Cutis," he ordered with a brisk and matter-of-factly tone.
She looked a bit uncertain but raised her wand nonetheless.
"Effusus Cutis,"
A sickly yellow light shot from the tip of her wand, striking the wolf with a faint crackle. A strange, shivering warmth coursed through her body, making her fingers tingle.
The creature's thick hide split cleanly, the edges curling as it peeled away from the raw, sinewy muscle beneath. The air filled with a faint, nauseating scent, but Ivy hardly noticed.
Her wand wavered slightly as she lowered it, her chest feeling oddly light. A small, involuntary smile flickered across her lips as she looked at Jakob, a bit confused. "Why do I feel… strange?" she asked softly, almost amusedly.
Jakob stepped forward, gripping the loosened hide with both hands and dragging it free from the exposed corpse. "That's what dark curses do," he said flatly, almost indifferent. "They're addictive. Don't use them too much, or you'll end up becoming sick."
Ivy's smile faltered as she looked back at the wolf, the lingering warmth from the curse feeling rather unsettling new against the backdrop of the exposed flesh.
She turned to Jakob, her expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and anger. "You… you made me cast a dark spell?"
Jakob let out a weary sigh, his expression shifting to one of irritation as he glanced at the Gryffindor girl. Deciding she wasn't worth the effort, he turned away, striding toward a nearby tree. He brushed snow from the ground with a rough kick, exposing the frozen earth beneath.
"Get off your white horse," he said with a derisive snort. "Dark magic is dark, sure—but it works."
"Useful how?" Ivy snapped the accusation in her tone impossible to miss.
Jakob paused, standing upright as he turned back to her. The wolf's black pelt dangled heavily from his hand, its torn edges dripping faintly onto the snow. His expression made it clear the question was one of the stupidest he had heard.
"We just got a blanket," he said, lifting the hide slightly as though it needed no further explanation.
Ivy's eyes widened, and she took an uneasy step back. "We can't stay here!" she said, her voice quick and rising as she looked around the thickening shadows. "We need to find my mum—we need to leave! What if more of those things show up?"
Jakob crouched near the cleared circle, shaking loose clumps of snow from the pelt before laying it flat on the ground. "Then we deal with them," he said calmly, almost lazily.
He glanced up at her, his hands already working to smooth the edges of the makeshift campsite. "Or you can wander off into the dark on your own. I'll be here—with a blanket, fire, and something to eat."
Jakob moved toward a smaller tree nearby, and without looking back, he waved the redhead over.
"Cut it down with—"
"Another dark spell? No way," Ivy interrupted, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
Jakob turned, giving her a look that seemed to question her basic intelligence. "With Diffindo. What's wrong with you?"
"Oh… right." Heat rose to her cheeks as she realized her failed assumption. She raised her wand, feeling a flicker of embarrassment, and muttered the incantation.
The tree cracked and fell with a dull thud, snow puffing up from where it landed. Ivy wasted no time slicing it into smaller sections, the repeated swish of her wand carving the wood neatly into pieces.
"Why don't you do it?" she asked curiously and slightly irritated. "Why do I have to cast every spell?"
Jakob knelt beside the woodpile, his hands brushing off stray bits of snow as he began gathering the pieces. "Because if something shows up, I'll need all the magic I've got," he replied with a practical tone, as though he'd given this explanation countless times before.
"The spells I know use more power. If I waste it on this, I might not have enough left when it matters."
Together, they loaded the chopped wood onto the wolf's hide, piling the pieces carefully to keep the load balanced. Each grabbed an end of the pelt, their boots sliding slightly against the snow as they hauled it back to the clearing.
Once there, Jakob tossed some of the wood into the centre of the circle they had made earlier. He crouched by the pile, drew his wand, and muttered, "Incendio."
A small flash ignited within the dry wood, the fire crackling to life and spreading slowly across the branches. The flickering light cast uneven shadows against the trees, and the warmth began to seep into the icy air.
Jakob pushed the snow aside with the heel of his boot, clearing a spot beneath one of the larger trees. He lowered himself onto the ground and leaned back against the trunk, the firelight dancing faintly across his face as he settled in.
"You coming?" Jakob asked, watching Ivy stand rigid beside the fire, her arms crossed tightly as she shivered.
"I… I'll just stay here by the fire," she mumbled, her gaze fixed somewhere in the flames. She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke.
Jakob rolled his eyes, a sigh escaping him. "Very well," he said, extending a hand toward her. "Help me up so I can help you make a bench."
Ivy hesitated, then reached out to grab his hand. The moment her fingers closed around his, he gave a sharp tug, pulling her off balance. Instead of letting her help him up, Jakob dragged her down in front of him with a smooth yet forceful motion. Before she could react, he swept the wolf hide over both of them.
"See? I didn't eat you," Jakob whispered with a low and almost teasing tone as he adjusted the hide around them.
She settled awkwardly on his lap, her trembling slowly easing as the fire's warmth and his shared body heat began to thaw her.
They sat silently, watching the flames as they licked at the stacked wood. The flickering light danced across Ivy's face, but she said nothing. Jakob frowned, glancing down at her when the quiet stretched too long.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone calm but tinged with curiosity.
Ivy didn't turn to him, sounding tired and frustrated when she finally answered. "Alright? We were attacked by a black wolf and dead Viking warriors. Do I look alright? How are you not freaking out right now?"
Jakob chuckled softly, the sound almost nonchalant. "You learn to deal with it," he shrugged. "It's not exactly my first time fighting for my life."
Ivy turned her head, her green eyes meeting his for a brief moment before she looked back at the fire. "Everything that happened tonight… I have so many questions," she said with a kind of softness Jakob had never heard before.
He reached out and tossed another piece of wood into the fire, the embers flaring briefly. "You're not getting answers," he said flatly. "Everything that happened tonight stays between us. We don't talk about it again. Ever."
"You say it like I've already agreed to that."
"I don't care if you agree or not," Jakob replied with a smirk, his dark green eyes glinting in the firelight. "But if you tell anyone, I'll tell them you cast a dark curse."
Ivy spun around to face him, looking at him incredulously. "You told me to!"
"Did I?" Jakob raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing more pronounced.
Her lips parted as though she were about to argue, but she stopped herself, her mouth snapping shut. Huffing, she turned back toward the fire. Jakob sighed, his tone softening just slightly.
"Listen. What happened tonight stays between us. If you manage to keep it quiet for a year, I'll answer your questions. Deal?"
Ivy frowned, twisting to glance at him. "What happens in a year?"
"Nothing. But if you don't say anything by then, I'll know I can trust you."
She nodded slowly, then her lips curled into a mischievous smirk. "Will you tell me about the kiss?"
Jakob groaned, rolling his eyes. "No. Goodnight."
"It was my first kiss, you know."
"Goodnight," he repeated, the sharpness in his tone growing.
Ivy twisted to glance at him, her smirk turning playful. "Oh, stop it. I know you liked it too."
Jakob's frown deepened. "Sleep, or I'll hex you," he muttered, leaning back against the tree, his gaze fixed on the fire as the silence returned between them.
Jakob stirred as the first light of morning filtered through the trees, casting pale streaks over the snow. The fire was long dead, reduced to faintly glowing ashes that barely held any warmth. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he became aware of the weight sprawled across his chest and legs.
He glanced down to find Ivy curled up on him like a contented cat, her fiery hair falling messily over her face. She was still sound asleep, her soft breaths visible in the crisp morning air.
"Definitely not doing this again," Jakob muttered under his breath. He gave her a gentle shake, his fingers gripping her shoulder. "Ivy, wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open, squinting groggily as she looked up at him. "Good morning," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep as she stretched lazily.
Jakob said nothing, his expression flat as he stared down at her. Ivy blinked again, her memories of the previous night flooding back all at once. She caught the pointed look he was giving her and flushed.
"Um… get off?" Jakob said, nudging her none too gently.
The shove sent her tumbling sideways onto the cold, hard ground with a startled yelp. Ivy shot him an annoyed glare, brushing snow off her clothes. "You don't have to be so rude, you know."
Jakob ignored the comment, standing and arching his back as he stretched, a low groan escaping him. "You almost broke my spine," he said flatly, rolling his shoulders. He turned to look at her, his expression serious now. "Remember—when we get back, this never happened. And you're still not saying anything. Got it?"
Ivy brushed a strand of hair from her face, her cheeks still pink from the fall. She met his eyes for a moment, then nodded.
"Understood," she said quietly as she got to her feet, dusting herself off. Jakob gave a curt nod in return, already scanning the forest as if last night's chaos were nothing more than a bad memory.
"Yeah, and the same goes for you," Ivy shot back, trying to shift some of the blame his way. Her arms crossed tightly as if daring him to argue.
Jakob stopped mid-step, glancing back at her with an arched brow. His voice came out as sarcastic and unimpressed. "Oh no, what will I do if I can't tell everyone you used dark magic. And nearly broke my back."
Ivy rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath. Jakob didn't wait for a reply, his gaze shifting to their surroundings. The forest looked different in the pale morning light, its details sharper now that the darkness had vanished.
He knelt briefly to fold the wolf's hide, tightening it with a conjured rope before slinging it over his shoulder. Without further comment, he started walking. Ivy followed a step behind, walking in a way that clearly showed that the sleepiness hadn't entirely left her mind or body.
"Do you even know where we're going?"
"No," Jakob admitted, not bothering to turn around. "But we'll try this way. We can't be too far from the blòt."
His confidence proved well-placed. After only a short walk, the familiar clearing came into view. The ritual site stood in silence, and Ivy hesitated at the edge of the clearing, her eyes flitting across the remnants of the strange ceremony.
Jakob slowed but didn't stop, shooting the redheaded girl a glance. "Why were you and Mrs. Potter here anyway?" he asked curiously. "Light families don't watch this sort of thing."
"My mum didn't," Ivy admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "I met an old druid yesterday. He told me to go up and pray, and… well, then you told me about the thing, and I snuck out while Mum was sleeping."
She paused, glancing at Jakob's back as he continued walking through the clearing. "I don't think she knows what actually happened. She just said a friend from work told her this was a good place to visit."
Jakob snorted. "An old druid, you say…"
He let the information sink in as they continued walking up the path and back toward the village. The streets were ghostly quiet, the stands and shops still shuttered, with no signs of movement.
"I think everyone's still asleep," he began in a slightly lower voice. "If anyone asks, you went on a morning stroll. And if she calls you on your bullshit…" He cast her a pointed look. "You stick to what we talked about. Got it?"
Ivy nodded firmly, ensuring the Slytherin that they were on the same page. The 2 teens passed rows of closed shops, the empty stalls looking more like abandoned relics in the soft morning light. Jakob shifted the weight of the pelt slung over his shoulder, the sword bumping lightly against his hip as they walked. He exhaled quietly, a hint of relief crossing his face.
If anyone had been awake to see him like this—carrying both the hide and the sword—they might have accused him of stealing. And there was no way he was giving up something he had earned for himself.
As they neared the houses, the faint outlines of their homes came into view, separated by only a few paces. Jakob glanced at Ivy, who offered him a small, tentative smile. He nodded in return, keeping his face neutral, and watched as she walked up the stone steps to her door.
She opened it cautiously, moving lightly and slowly to avoid making any noise. Jakob stood a moment longer, listening. There were no muffled voices, no scolding tones, no sign of Mrs. Potter.
Jakob slipped into the room, nudging the door closed with slow, measured movements. The latch clicked softly, barely breaking the stillness of the house. From down the hall came the faint rhythm of steady breathing, the only sound in the silence.
A glance toward the sofa showed Susie and Ella still fast asleep, their forms curled beneath thick blankets. Jakob dropped the pelt and sword into the corner with a soft thud, his shoulders sagging as the weight finally left him.
Without another thought, he crossed to his bed and dropped onto it, his body heavy with exhaustion. The night's events flickered in his mind briefly, but sleep claimed him before they could take more of his mind.
It was Ella who woke him, her voice bright and insistent as she shook his shoulder. He blinked up at her, groaning softly as the morning light filtered through the curtains. Susie stood nearby with her arms crossed, both of them staring pointedly at the corner where the pelt and sword rested.
"Where did you get those?" Susie asked with a tone leaning more towards curious than accusatory.
Jakob rubbed his face before sitting up. "Bought them at the ritual last night," he explained tiredly and shrugged.
The explanation seemed to satisfy them, and soon, they were gathered around the small table for breakfast.
Ella twirled in the blue-and-gold dress Jakob had bought for her, the fabric catching the morning light as she showed it off. She talked excitedly about the books she'd found, her words spilling over each other in her enthusiasm. Susie joined in, her voice warm as she detailed the recipes she planned to try once they returned home.
Jakob ate quietly, his eyes moving between them as their conversation filled the space. A faint, satisfied smile slowly approached —rare but genuine. Susie and Ella had had a good time.
When the plates were cleared, they moved quickly to pack their belongings. The house bustled with activity, bags being filled and items carefully tucked away. Jakob ensured the pelt and sword were secured, his eyes scanning the room one last time before nodding to himself.
The portkey—a frayed old sock—sat in the centre of the room. They gathered around it, each gripping it tightly as they waited for the magic to surge. Jakob glanced out the window, noticing the village slowly waking to life and starting the day as it always did.
This trip had not been so bad after all, he thought.
The tug came suddenly, a sharp pull at his navel. The house blurred, its details spinning away as the world dissolved into a rush of colours, pulling them home.
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