Chapter 55. The desert, an unsuspected alliance and one lone ladder.
The world twisted violently before releasing them from the portkey's grip.
Jakob landed first, his boots sliding into burning sand, gritty grains immediately finding their way past his ankles. Ivy appeared a second later, stumbling slightly but steadying herself with a muttered curse.
Pansy was last, quickly regaining composure as she brushed sand from her cloak with a scowl.
They stood there, blinking against the harsh sunlight, surrounded by nothing but endless dunes. No roads, no landmarks, no sign of civilization, just the vast, unrelenting desert stretching out in every direction.
Pansy was the first to speak, pulling her hood up against the heat.
"Did she do something wrong?" she questioned, glancing toward Jakob.
Ivy did the same, adjusting the fabric over her red hair before shading her eyes with one hand.
Jakob scanned the horizon, feeling as lost as the two girls.
"Making a Portkey is difficult," he said after a moment, though there was an edge of doubt in his voice. "Especially one that's supposed to take us 5,000 kilometers away. Maybe Morgan misjudged the exact location…"
Even as he said it, he didn't quite believe it.
She was one of the strongest witches to ever live.
His gut told him that this, wherever they were, was intentional.
Not knowing where else to start, he took a step forward, choosing a direction at random.
The girls had turned away from him for only a moment, scanning the horizon for any sign of life. But when they noticed he had already started walking, they quickly hurried to his side, falling into step beside him.
"Do you even know where we're going?" Ivy asked, pulling her hood lower over her face.
The sunlight reflected off the white fabric, making her red hair and freckles stand out even more than usual. The white dresses Rowena had given them glistened in the heat, and for a brief moment, Jakob's gaze lingered on Ivy just a little longer than normal before he quickly looked away.
Unwanted memories from the night before crept into his mind.
"No," he answered, pushing those thoughts aside. "We need to get to higher ground to get a better sense of where we are."
"Worst case scenario," Pansy suggested, adjusting her hood, "we use the amulet to get back and ask Morgan to—"
"No," Jakob cut in firmly. "We are not returning until we have what we came for."
Pansy gave him a confused look, but he kept walking, waiting for him to explain.
"We can't assume Morgan will make another Portkey," Jakob said evenly, not bothering to look back. "Especially after implying she made a mistake."
The climb was punishing.
Sand slid beneath their feet, each step sinking deeper, burning muscles already strained from the relentless heat. Jakob could feel grains trickling irritably down into his boots, scraping roughly against his ankles with every step. The dry air rasped in his throat, sweat prickling along his back beneath the heavy fabric.
Behind him, he could hear the girls' breathing growing heavier, more laboured. He expected complaints, maybe demands for a break, but instead, silence stretched behind him. Then came the sudden shift in rhythm—the shuffle of hurried footsteps, the sharp and short, determined breaths as Ivy and Pansy quickened their pace.
Jakob turned slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse, and what he saw nearly made him grin openly.
Ivy and Pansy weren't lagging; they were racing.
Their shoulders were almost touching, each trying to edge the other out without appearing to do so deliberately.
Jakob quickly faced forward again, biting back the amused smirk that threatened to spread across his face.
Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.
Jakob, who'd spent the last few months building up his endurance, reached the top first. His breath came steady, controlled, even as the sand rubbed uncomfortably against the soles of his feet. He squinted into the distance, narrowing his eyes against the harsh sunlight as he rested his weight on one leg, giving the other a moment of relief.
Behind him, Ivy and Pansy continued to battle the slope and each other.
Sweat dampened the back of Pansy's neck, trickling irritatingly down her spine beneath the light robes. She spared a sideways glance toward Ivy, whose breath had become laboured, the pace of her footsteps slowing just enough to betray her fatigue.
A flicker of triumph danced behind Pansy's eyes as she understood why.
For once, her petite frame was an advantage, suited perfectly for navigating loose, shifting terrain. Although drawing appreciative looks elsewhere, Ivy's curvier figure clearly wasn't helping her now—slowing her movements, hindering the easy rhythm needed for the brutal climb. Pansy curled her lips into a victorious smirk, allowing herself the rare luxury of quiet satisfaction.
When she reached the summit first, she suppressed the urge to rub it in Ivy's face too openly. Instead, she settled for something subtler. A quick, mocking tilt of her head and a discreet flash of her middle finger at waist level, just enough for Ivy alone to catch.
Turning immediately toward Jakob, she bent over, bracing her hands against her knees, breathing heavily. "Did you find anything yet?" she asked between strained breaths, glancing up through sweat-slicked strands of hair.
Jakob kept his eyes fixed ahead, scanning the endless sand for anything useful.
"Not yet," he replied shortly.
Pansy straightened slightly, still breathing heavily, her eyes following his gaze. After a moment, something caught his attention, and he nodded toward the horizon.
"Over there," he said evenly, pointing out a faint, visible
At last, Ivy stumbled up to join them, collapsing dramatically onto the sand. She lay there, motionless, arms spread wide in resignation, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her freckles stood out sharply against flushed skin as she gave a frustrated groan.
Jakob raised an eyebrow, looking at the two girls with a dry expression. "We've only climbed one dune. Maybe you two should train a little harder."
Pansy scoffed, shooting him a glare before turning pointedly away.
"How the bloody hell are you not even winded by this?" Ivy huffed, collapsing onto her back in the sand.
Ignoring Ivy entirely, Pansy peered at the strange marks etched across the sand, suddenly uneasy. Her voice became quieter now, cautious, as she realized how unusual the trail looked.
"Why does the trail look so… big?"
Jakob lowered himself onto the sand, pulling the bag from his shoulder. Without a word, he dug inside and retrieved a waterskin, holding it out toward Ivy, who immediately snatched it from his grasp.
She tilted her head back, gulping greedily. A trickle of water slipped from the corner of her lips, tracing down her chin and dripping onto the white fabric of her robes. Jakob looked away, busying himself with the bag once more.
"We should follow the trail," he said, keeping his tone even as he secured the flap. "It looks like it was left by a marching force. It'll lead us somewhere eventually, hopefully, the right city."
Ivy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her brow furrowing sceptically. "And if they're just as lost as we are?"
"Then we're heading straight into another set of problems," Jakob said bluntly, his eyes flicking briefly back to her. "But it beats wandering aimlessly."
Neither girl looked particularly encouraged by the thought, but both knew he was right. Jakob shouldered his bag again and turned toward the distant dunes, stepping forward without waiting for agreement. The girls exchanged a brief, resigned glance before reluctantly following.
They walked for hours, sand shifting endlessly beneath their weary feet as the dunes stretched endlessly ahead. The sun moved slowly across the sky, casting long shadows that crawled and shifted as daylight gradually faded. Above them, the sky bloomed in rich shades of orange and violet, stars beginning to flicker awake, small and sharp against the darkening horizon.
Pansy, who'd stubbornly kept quiet despite clearly flagging behind, finally gave in.
"Jake, can we please stop for the night?" Her voice was unusually gentle, edged with genuine exhaustion. "My feet are killing me, and I'm starving."
She stubbornly avoided Ivy's smug look, unwilling to acknowledge the victory the redhead would inevitably claim. Instead, she fixed her pleading eyes solely on Jakob, hoping he'd relent without much fuss.
Jakob glanced back at her, his expression easing slightly, acknowledging how far they'd already come. He gave a brief nod, silently conceding. Pansy didn't respond, turning away before her relief could fully show, still irritated at having been the first to complain.
She sank to the sand with a tired sigh, stretching out her aching legs and kicking off her boots, grains of sand pouring out and joining the rest. Ivy sat nearby, avoiding eye contact but clearly just as grateful.
Jakob dropped his bag beside him and began rifling through its contents again, the soft sound of fabric and clinking objects filling the silence. Finally, he found what he'd been searching for, five wooden poles, carved smooth and bound with twine.
"There you are," he muttered, mostly to himself, as he arranged the poles neatly on the sand.
He unfolded the white tent fabric in a fluid motion, the cloth catching in the gentle breeze and billowing lightly. Drawing his wand, he directed the poles into place, levitating the longest one to form the central support before carefully draping the fabric over the frame.
It wasn't until Jakob began anchoring the corners firmly into the sand that he noticed how quiet the girls had become. He glanced over his shoulder, discovering Ivy and Pansy sitting comfortably side-by-side in the sand, watching him with unmistakable amusement.
Jakob paused, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.
"Are you two enjoying yourselves?" he asked in a tone that dripped polite mockery. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, should I levitate the spoons to your mouths, or can you manage that yourselves?"
Pansy rolled her eyes, pushing herself reluctantly to her feet. "What do you need? And just to be clear. I think I can manage the spoon myself, thanks."
Jakob smirked faintly. "I'll let you two figure it out."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his attention back to arranging the mats, deliberately ignoring the annoyed sigh from Pansy's direction.
Pansy nudged Ivy's shoulder with a pointed glance, urging her silently into motion. Ivy responded with an exaggerated sigh of her own before finally pulling open her bag and rummaging inside. Food and water emerged moments later, neatly arranged in front of them.
Meanwhile, Pansy drew out her wand and, with a quick flick, conjured a small flame hovering just above the sand. Its warm orange glow danced gently across their faces, softening the shadows around them. Satisfied, she spread three blankets out in a rough semi-circle a short distance from the fire.
The three companions settled into place as the desert evening cooled around them. Jakob leaned back against his pack, massaging and simultaneously rolling his shoulders to ease the lingering tightness from the day's long walk. Ivy sat cross-legged, balancing her food carefully on her knees, her posture relaxed now that she was off her feet. Pansy stretched out on her side, propping herself lazily on one elbow, exhaustion winning out over her usual elegant composure.
They ate quietly at first, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of cutlery against plates and the soft, rhythmic snapping of the fire. Above them, the darkening sky stretched endlessly, scattered generously with pinpricks of starlight.
Eventually, Ivy broke the quiet, her voice softer than usual, almost reverent. "The stars really are beautiful here, aren't they?"
Jakob glanced upward thoughtfully, his eyes reflecting the distant lights. "They are," he conceded quietly, genuinely appreciating the sight.
Pansy barely lifted her head. "They're stars. They look the same everywhere." She said dismissively.
Ivy huffed, turning sharply toward Pansy. "That's because you're boring, Pansy. You have no sense of appreciation for—"
"I appreciate plenty of things," Pansy cut her off, tearing a bite from her dried meat. "Just not the ones that never change."
Jakob smirked faintly at the exchange, but before Ivy could fire back, he cleared his throat, pulling their attention back to the task at hand.
"We need to take turns keeping watch."
Both girls turned toward him, their expressions instantly deflating.
"Seriously?" Ivy groaned, tossing her head back dramatically. "Come on, we're in the middle of nowhere. Who could possibly be out here?"
Jakob arched a brow. "Do you really want to gamble on that?"
Pansy exhaled sharply through her nose, already accepting the inevitable, but Ivy wasn't quite ready to relent, at least not without conditions.
"Ugh, fine," the redhead muttered, stabbing at her food with unnecessary force. After chewing irritably for a moment, she added offhandedly, "At least let me sleep first. My back's already wrecked from bending over all day."
Midway through taking a casual sip from his waterskin, Jakob promptly choked.
For once, his carefully maintained composure shattered entirely.
And then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
Not his usual restrained chuckle or quiet smirk, but a sudden, genuine burst of laughter that escaped before he could stop it. It was raw, honest, and completely uncontrolled.
Pansy, mid-sip of her own water, sputtered, spraying droplets onto the sand as she struggled to maintain her dignity.
Ivy stared blankly for a moment, her confusion quickly melting into mortified realization. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet.
"OH, MERLIN'S SAKE, THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" she shouted, burying her face in her hands as embarrassment overtook her completely.
Jakob leaned back, still laughing helplessly, his eyes shining in the firelight. "Merlin, Ivy," he gasped between breaths, "that was tragic."
Completely flustered now, Ivy snatched up a chunk of bread and flung it at his head. "Shut up, Quade!"
Jakob effortlessly caught it mid-air, still grinning and took an exaggerated bite. "Thanks for the extra food."
Pansy, wiping away the last drops of spilt water, shook her head, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
For the first time since arriving, the tension had genuinely eased.
Jakob's shoulders had relaxed, and his usually guarded expression had softened into something close to genuine contentment.
And somehow, that made everything feel a little safer.
The three of them lingered quietly by the fire, conversation drifting into low, tired murmurs. The desert night's chill gradually slipped beneath their cloaks, prompting them to draw the fabric tighter around their shoulders.
Eventually, exhaustion crept in.
Ivy yawned first, reaching her arms lazily over her head before she folded in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest. Pansy fought it longer, stubbornly blinking away her fatigue, but even she eventually surrendered, resting her cheek against her knee as her eyes slowly drifted shut.
Jakob sat between them, his gaze fixed absently on the flickering fire. For a rare, fleeting moment, things felt almost... normal.
But he knew better. Normal never lasted—at least not for him.
After a while, he sighed quietly and pushed himself to his feet.
"Go ahead, I'll take first watch," he said tiredly, nodding toward the tent behind them.
Pansy and Ivy exchanged a glance of faint surprise, turning toward him with hesitant, appreciative smiles. Before he could reconsider, they quickly slipped into the tent, the flap closing quietly behind them.
Jakob returned his attention to the glowing embers. A gentle smile played briefly at his lips until he heard muffled whispers and the rustle of fabric from inside the tent, quickly followed by an irritated hiss.
He didn't even bother turning around. "If you two can't get along, I'll happily reconsider," he called dryly, still watching the dying fire.
Instantly, the whispers ceased, replaced by a strained silence.
Jakob stifled a quiet chuckle, throwing a dry stick into the embers and watching it burst into flames before it slowly turned to ash.
After another moment, he glanced back over his shoulder. Inside the tent, the shadows clearly showed Ivy and Pansy pressed tightly against opposite sides, creating a deliberate gap between them.
Satisfied, Jakob faced forward again, shifting his gaze toward the horizon. The trail stretched endlessly onward, swallowed by the deep black of the desert night.
"They're further away than I thought," he murmured, tracing a slow, thoughtful circle in the sand.
Jakob had hoped by now that they'd have glimpsed something, the faint flicker of distant torchlight or the distant murmur of voices echoing across the desert.
Instead, there was only silence, darkness, and the vast, empty expanse stretching out ahead.
Jakob turned back toward the tent but stopped mid-step, his entire body going suddenly still.
Only a few meters ahead, the sand shifted subtly in the faint firelight.
His hand moved instantly to his wand, curling his fingers tightly around the polished wood before aiming it carefully at the spot where grains of sand slowly churned and rolled. Jakob didn't cast, not yet. He watched instead, curiosity blending carefully with caution as the disturbance inched closer. The movement slowed, became measured, almost calculated as if the thing beneath was sizing him up just as carefully as Jakob was doing.
Then, it stopped.
Jakob's eyes narrowed. He waited, knowing that whatever lay beneath the sand mirrored his own tactic, waiting for the ideal moment to strike.
A faint smile ghosted across his lips.
"You're not the only one with that strategy," he whispered in Parseltongue.
Slowly, he lowered his wand, sliding it securely back into its holster.
As if responding to Jakob's gesture, the sand shifted again, but this time, the movement was graceful rather than predatory.
A snake slowly emerged, lifting its sleek form smoothly from beneath the sand, like ink rising through water. Jakob's gaze immediately took in the serpent's unusual colouring, noting that it was a cobra, smaller and leaner than the usual ones but having the typical black scales interwoven with striking bands of pure white.
The snake raised its head, flicking its tongue out cautiously as it studied him.
"You are a speaker?" it hissed with a wary yet intrigued tone.
"Yes," Jakob responded quietly, his green eyes glittering faintly in the firelight. "Do you still intend to strike one who speaks the Noble Tongue?"
The cobra paused for just a heartbeat longer before slowly relaxing its coils.
"No," it hissed, lowering its head in a gesture of deference. "I am here to serve."
It approached slowly, moving with elegant strokes across the sand. Jakob calmly extended one arm, allowing the serpent to glide onto his wrist and winding its cool, scaled form around him. It settled comfortably, its tongue flickering briefly against his skin, tasting the air around him.
"You smell of another," it observed curiously, lifting its head to meet Jakob's gaze. "A queen. I would like to meet her, mate with her."
Jakob couldn't stop the low chuckle that rose quietly from his chest.
"She's not here right now," he said dryly, amused by the serpent's boldness. "And even if she was, you wouldn't survive the attempt. She's devoured snakes far more impressive than you, for far less."
The serpent immediately went still, its body freezing beneath Jakob's touch.
Then, surprisingly, it lowered its head in acceptance.
"She sounds worthy of her title," the snake replied evenly, its tongue flickering once more. "I will await her answer."
Jakob nodded slightly, his eyes flicking briefly toward the tent before settling back on the serpent wrapped around his wrist.
"Have you seen any humans nearby?" he asked. "A large group, perhaps?"
The cobra stared blankly, silent in a way Jakob recognized immediately.
He sighed deeply and pressed two of his fingers against the bridge of his nose in tired frustration. It was hardly a surprise, he reminded himself. His earlier experiments with various snakes throughout Amy's visits during the summer break last year had made it clear that Saliza was unusually intelligent for her kind. Most snakes weren't exactly conversationalists.
Changing tactics, Jakob tried again. "Have you seen any animals nearby that might pose a threat to us?"
The snake paused, flicking out its tongue thoughtfully to taste the cool night air.
"There are mostly lizards and smaller snakes here," it answered after a moment. "Some spiders as well, but none dangerous enough to threaten a Speaker. There are scorpions, however. Their sting holds a nasty venom, especially for humans."
Jakob chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief at his own situation.
"Jakob Quade, killed by a scorpion," he muttered with a sardonic smile. "All this trouble just to die from something too small to even bother eating me."
With a resigned sigh, he gently placed the snake back onto the sand.
"I'm going to sleep," Jakob instructed firmly. "You'll stay here and watch over me and those two."
He tilted his head toward the tent, where Ivy and Pansy were asleep.
"If you sense danger approaching, you'll wake me immediately and await further instructions."
The cobra raised its head respectfully, its eyes gleaming faintly in the darkness.
"Yes, Speaker."
Without further hesitation, it sank gracefully back beneath the surface, the sand slipping smoothly over its scales until it vanished completely from view.
Jakob watched the empty spot for a moment longer before allowing himself a tired, satisfied smile.
A useful gift, indeed.
With that, he turned and crawled into the tent, carefully settling into the space between the two sleeping girls.
He lay there quietly for a moment, absently fixing his gaze on the fabric stretched above him as his muscles slowly began to relax.
A wizard lying between a Light Witch and a Dark Witch, he thought dryly, suppressing an exhausted chuckle. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.
Or possibly a dirty one.
His thoughts blurred as exhaustion began pulling him gently downward. Within moments, Jakob Quade was asleep.
When morning came, Jakob stirred awake slowly, gradually becoming aware of two warm weights pressing against either side of his body.
Still caught in a haze of sleep, he first registered the familiar warmth on his left shoulder.
Pansy's dark hair spilt freely over his chest, her breathing soft and steady in her usual spot.
That was normal.
But then he felt something similar against his right side and frowned slightly. Turning his head, he saw a vivid splash of red hair—far too close for comfort.
Ivy lay curled up against his shoulder, mirroring Pansy exactly, her legs draped comfortably across his own. Her face, softened by sleep, looked oddly peaceful.
Jakob stared blankly at the tent ceiling, fully awake now as he considered the situation.
Two girls. One on each side. Symmetrically balanced.
He smirked slightly despite himself.
His gaze drifted toward the tent's opening, watching the golden morning light spill through the gap. Outside, the desert shimmered under the fresh glow of dawn, painting the dunes in shades of gentle amber and soft gold. It would've made for a peaceful view if not for the undeniable absurdity of his life choices that had brought him to this particular moment.
With a resigned sigh, Jakob carefully eased himself upright, trying not to disturb either girl. He quietly stretched, feeling yesterday's fatigue lingering in his muscles, and ran a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair. Shaking away the last remnants of drowsiness, he slipped outside the tent, hoping to claim at least a moment of solitude.
But his careful movements hadn't been subtle enough.
Pansy shifted first, letting out a sleepy groan of protest at losing her comfortable pillow.
Beside her, Ivy blinked slowly, with barely opened eyes, as she offered Jakob a drowsy smile, oblivious to the awkwardness that was sure to follow.
"Is it morning already?" Ivy mumbled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Jakob barely had a chance to respond before Pansy, now fully awake, caught sight of Ivy's tangled mess of curls. Her lips immediately twisted into a satisfied smirk.
"You look like a bloody monster with that morning hair," she said smugly.
Jakob turned toward the redhead girl, who remained completely oblivious to the chaotic state of her red hair. Ivy pointedly ignored the jab, stretching her arms overhead with a yawn as she got to her feet.
As she stepped forward, her foot clipped one of the tent's wooden supports. The entire structure instantly collapsed inward, making the fabric pile heavily onto the sand with a muffled thud.
Jakob gave Ivy an exhausted glare as the now-destroyed tent lay in a heap at his feet. Beneath the fabric, Pansy's muffled curses rapidly increased in both creativity and volume.
Ivy glanced down at the crumpled tent with barely a flicker of guilt, offering only a weak shrug. "I stumbled. You know how clumsy I can get."
Jakob sighed heavily, flicking his wand, and within seconds, the tent folded neatly into his open bag. Pansy emerged from the wreckage, still sitting cross-legged on the sand with her arms folded tightly across her chest, fixing Ivy with a glare fierce enough to turn sand to glass.
Ivy only smiled sweetly in return.
Another glorious day in paradise.
"Remember what you both promised," he said firmly, looking meaningfully toward the two girls. "I heard your comment earlier, Pansy. And I'm not an idiot, Ivy."
He glanced up at the brightening sky, drawing his wand again. "Tempus," he muttered softly, watching white letters form mid-air. 08:32. Jakob sighed in frustration.
"We overslept. We need to hurry."
The trio gathered their things quickly, continuing their trek with breakfast eaten hastily on the move; bread, cheese, and water were consumed without ceremony or even a hint of grace.
Conversation flowed comfortably at first, filling the silence for a short while, but as the hours wore on beneath an unrelenting sun, fatigue began to settle into their bones. Headaches nagged, and morale rapidly dipped with each new, empty horizon. Soon, their conversations dwindled into heavy silence.
Jakob glanced casually back toward the sand behind them, noticing the slight movement several meters away, the subtle shifting that indicated the serpent was faithfully trailing behind. Aren't you a loyal one? I'll reward you later, he thought, a small, appreciative smile briefly touching his lips.
"Can we stop for lunch?" Pansy finally groaned as they trudged up another endless dune, shielding her eyes against the glaring sun. "We haven't found anything yet, and I'm starving."
"You're starting to sound like Ivy," Jakob muttered irritably, frustration creeping into his voice as yet another dune revealed nothing useful.
Pansy abruptly stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth to retort, but Jakob suddenly raised his fist, cutting her off mid-word.
"Do you hear that?"
Both girls fell immediately silent, straining to listen. It was faint, barely audible above the wind but undeniably present. Jakob's eyes sharpened, and without another word, he suddenly broke into a sprint up the dune ahead.
"Watch it!" Ivy shouted indignantly, shielding her face from the spray of sand Jakob's sudden movement sent flying back at her.
Jakob barely registered her complaint. His breath quickened, and adrenaline surged through him as he reached the top of the dune, boots skidding to a stop.
His breath caught at the sight below.
There it was, the city, shimmering brightly on the horizon, its towering white walls reflecting sunlight in a dazzling display. Relief surged through Jakob's chest for a brief moment, and the exhaustion and frustration finally felt worthwhile.
But the relief died instantly as his gaze dropped lower, taking in the devastating reality gathered before those gleaming walls.
An army.
Thousands of soldiers sprawled across the sands, their camps stretching in every direction like a dark, writhing sea. Weapons glinted dangerously beneath the sun, and banners waved ominously in the wind, completely encircling the distant city.
Jakob clenched his jaw almost painfully hard, and his fists tightened at his sides as the last remnants of hope evaporated into the scorching desert air.
Of course, it could never be simple.
His shoulders slumped as he reached down, scooped up a handful of hot, dry sand, and flung it forward as if the childish act of frustration might somehow rewrite reality. His expression twisted into one of pure irritation, looking precisely like a child who'd just been told he couldn't have another biscuit before dinner.
By the time Ivy and Pansy reached his side, both girls were left just as speechless by the unfolding scene before them.
Pansy recovered first, though hesitation clearly coloured her voice.
"Should we… just wait until they finish fighting?" she asked cautiously, the suggestion clearly sounding absurd even to her.
For once, Ivy didn't challenge her. Instead, they shared a fleeting glance, united briefly in uncertainty before turning back toward Jakob, waiting for him to decide.
Jakob sighed heavily, his gaze never leaving the battlefield as he shook his head decisively.
"No, we're not waiting."
Both girls stared at him as if he'd finally gone mad.
"This army just arrived," Jakob explained in a wary but firm tone. "With that many soldiers? They won't pack up and leave anytime soon. If we wait until the fighting stops, we could be stranded out here for weeks."
Ivy hesitated, eyeing the sheer scale of the force arrayed before them. She chose her next words carefully.
"Jake, I'm not saying I won't follow you, but this... this is insane. I've never seen anything like this. There must be at least ten thousand—"
"Closer to twenty thousand," Pansy corrected bluntly, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed the army sprawled below.
Jakob pushed himself up slowly, brushing grains of sand off his robes before flashing a smile far too casual for the situation.
"It could always be worse," he shrugged lightly, gesturing toward the army as though it wasn't the most absurd thing they'd encountered yet. "Come on, let's hope they're friendly."
And with that, he started walking.
Pansy hesitated for only half a heartbeat before falling into step beside him. Ivy, however, remained rooted in disbelief, opening and closing her mouth wordlessly as she struggled to comprehend what was happening.
"How could this possibly be worse?!" she finally burst out, scrambling after them.
Jakob offered no answer while Pansy turned, shooting the redhead a smirk over her shoulder.
"They could have been flesh-eating zombies," she said smoothly.
Jakob let out a genuine laugh, casually raising his hand. Pansy responded instantly, their palms meeting in a crisp, perfectly timed high-five that echoed softly across the dunes.
Ivy stared at them both, a look of utter disbelief crossing her features before she groaned loudly, dragging her hand down her face.
She was definitely going to die here.
As they approached, distant echoes of combat swelled into a deafening roar, the clash of metal and screams of men blending into a brutal symphony. The air filled with the rhythmic pounding of hooves and shouts that tore through the desert calm, turning a once-empty wasteland into a cacophony of violence.
Jakob's sharp and calculating eyes swept across the battlefield. The attackers stood rigid and disciplined, their bodies and faces hidden beneath polished steel armour. White tabards bearing bold red crosses fluttered sharply in the breeze.
At first, their battle cries surged confidently, filling the air with certainty of victory.
Then, their triumphant shouts twisted abruptly into panicked screams as the soldiers scrambled desperately toward the city's imposing walls.
With one solitary ladder.
Jakob stopped abruptly, mid-step, furrowing his brow as confusion replaced his initial confidence. he lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. He squinted, searching the chaotic scene below for some hidden strategy or tactical advantage, but there was none to be found.
"...Are they idiots?" he asked flatly, his voice filled with utter disbelief.
Pansy, clearly noticing the same astonishing lack of strategy, let out a low chuckle. "They're definitely Muggles," she remarked, her tone dripping with casual mockery and unmistakable disdain.
Ivy immediately whipped around to glare at Pansy.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" she demanded defensively.
Uninterested in another tedious moral debate, Jakob didn't soften his words as he turned impatiently towards the Gryffindor and arched a brow.
"They're Muggles, Ivy," he replied bluntly as if the simple statement was explanation enough. "This is what they do. They charge forward blindly, attacking anything they don't understand, always looking for a new enemy to justify their actions."
He gestured toward the distant chaos below with an exasperated wave of his hand. "Using one ladder to scale a fortress wall ten meters high? Tell me, what else would you call that?"
Ivy opened her mouth to fire back but stopped abruptly, her expression shifting rapidly. Her attention snapped past Jakob and instead fixed itself on something approaching through the dust clouds on the horizon.
"Riders," she said urgently, pointing ahead. "They're coming straight toward us."
Jakob instantly turned, narrowing his eyes as he counted the figures.
Twenty soldiers, clad in white armour, galloped swiftly toward them, their shouts growing louder as they urged their horses into a fierce charge.
"Get behind me."
Pansy and Ivy exchanged wary glances but did as Jakob instructed, subtly stepping back with their hands lingering carefully near their hidden wands.
Meanwhile, Jakob lifted his hands slowly in surrender, keeping his expression neutral as the riders swiftly drew nearer. Several had already notched arrows into their bows, making the sharp tips glint threateningly in the sunlight.
The leader—a commanding presence in heavy armour—raised his hand sharply, signalling his men to halt. Immediately, they obeyed, though their eyes remained narrowed with suspicion and weapons at the ready.
The mounted soldiers swiftly surrounded the trio, closing any possible escape path. Jakob's gaze shifted subtly, assessing the leader's equipment as the man approached.
His sword was heavy and imposing, a simple yet brutal weapon with a crimson cross emblazoned upon its pommel. Beneath his tabard, metal rings interlocked to form a sturdy armour. Jakob studied the man's face carefully: clean-shaven, authoritative, quiet confidence in every movement. The reverent gazes from his men told Jakob everything he needed to know—this was no ordinary knight. He was someone significant.
Recognizing this, Jakob inclined his head in a polite, cautious bow.
The knight's lips twitched upward in approval, acknowledging Jakob's subtle respect. For a brief moment, he merely observed him silently, clearly enjoying the control he held over the encounter.
"Êtes-vous un citoyen de Jérusalem?" the man finally spoke in a commanding voice.
Jakob hesitated, not recognizing the language. He blinked slowly, momentarily caught off guard by his own assumption.
"I speak only English," he admitted evenly, maintaining a neutral expression.
The knight's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and then his face softened with understanding.
"Ah," the man responded, his accent heavily French but understandable. "You are Englishmen, yes? You understand me now, yes?"
Jakob gave a quick, affirmative nod.
"We have traveled from the Kingdom of England to pay our respects at the Holy City," Jakob explained smoothly. "Though it appears you have reached it first."
An amused smile slowly spread across the Frenchman's lips at Jakob's careful remark.
He turned slightly, addressing his soldiers behind him. "Baissez vos armes."
The men obediently lowered their weapons at his command, though the wary tension in their gazes remained. Turning back toward Jakob, the knight stepped closer and formally introduced himself with a voice filled with undeniable pride.
"My name is Godfrey of Bouillon," he declared grandly, clearly expecting Jakob to react with awe. "Future ruler of the Holy City, in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I lead this holy crusade."
Just as he finished, Godfrey's eyes sharpened and lowered his voice into a smooth, deadly warning. "Tell me, traveller," he said carefully. "Are you followers of our Lord Jesus Christ... or worshippers of false gods?"
Jakob responded without hesitation, offering his most disarming smile as he gestured toward Pansy and Ivy.
"We have travelled to this land to honour our Lord Christ. He is the only true lord worthy of service," Jakob said clearly, confidently holding the knight's gaze.
Pansy and Ivy forced cautious smiles as Godfrey glanced briefly toward them. Jakob kept his face composed, though his fingers twitched slightly toward his concealed wand, prepared to act the moment things turned sour.
To Jakob's relief, Godfrey's stern expression broke into a warm, approving laugh.
"Very good!" the knight proclaimed jovially. "You will make an excellent addition to our holy cause! Your two friends, however, must stay behind with the rest of the camp, assisting the women upon our return."
Jakob opened his mouth to object immediately, but Godfrey threw an iron-clad arm companionably over his shoulder before he could speak, steering him decisively toward the battlefield. The knights behind quickly fell into step, maintaining their careful circle around Ivy and Pansy.
"I have a good feeling about you…" Godfrey laughed loudly in a voice filled with hearty confidence as they walked toward the now strangely quiet battlefield, where the combat had abruptly halted. "It's funny, I haven't even asked for your name."
Jakob blinked at Godfrey, briefly caught off-guard. A lie quickly formed on his tongue, but he hesitated a second too long, knowing the nobleman would easily sense the deceit.
"Quade," he answered finally, keeping his voice calm and steady despite the unease bubbling inside. "Jakob Quade."
Godfrey's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "Saint dieu au ciel. You are related to Geoffroy Quade?"
Jakob kept his expression carefully neutral, even as panic fluttered briefly beneath the surface. "I don't believe so. My father is just a simple farmer from England named Thomas Quade."
The older knight laughed, clearly amused, as he clapped Jakob heartily on the back. The sudden impact nearly knocked Jakob forward, forcing him to take a stumbling step to regain his balance.
"No, my young friend," Godfrey boomed, guiding Jakob firmly onward. "Lord Geoffroy Quade is a holy man, a priest wielding God's will. If he had a son, he would have been executed immediately." The knight chuckled again, shaking his head. "But the name is Germanic, yes? Perhaps distant blood. It matters little. You are here now, and that is all that matters. A gift from God himself!"
Before Jakob could reply, a sudden commotion behind him caught his attention. He turned sharply, just in time to see one of the knights lowering his blade from a swift, lethal stroke.
In the sand, the familiar black-and-white scales of his cobra lay severed in two, lifelessly twitching.
Jakob's eyes hardened dangerously, narrowing into a venomous glare as he locked gazes with the black-haired knight who had killed the snake. He memorized the man's features, silently promising himself he would personally see the knight pay before leaving this wretched place.
Meanwhile, three other soldiers moved in, roughly directing Ivy and Pansy away from Jakob, speaking rapidly in French as the two girls stared at him with clear confusion and alarm etched on their faces.
"Where are they taking them?" Jakob asked sharply, forcing himself to keep his voice neutral as he gestured toward Ivy and Pansy.
Godfrey turned slightly, following Jakob's gaze, and waved off his concern with casual reassurance.
"Back to the followers' camp," he explained dismissively. "The battlefield is no place for women. They will help tend to the wounded and prepare meals. They will be safe there. You have my word."
Jakob's jaw tightened slightly, but he managed a careful nod toward the girls, silently urging them to cooperate for now. Ivy's mouth opened, ready to argue, but Jakob silenced her with a subtle shake of his head.
Reluctantly, the two girls allowed themselves to be led away, disappearing into the bustling crowds of soldiers and followers.
Jakob turned back to Godfrey, keeping his expression calm. "Where can I find this priest—Lord Quade?"
Godfrey waved dismissively as he guided Jakob deeper into the sprawling camp. "He is tending to the wounded in the followers' camp, farther back from the fighting," he explained, his voice heavy with frustration. "Our first attempt on Jerusalem was… unsuccessful. We will need to regroup with Raymond the Fourth and Raymond of Normandy before another assault."
They stepped into the sprawling camp, weaving among countless tents and bustling soldiers until they reached a massive pavilion—the largest Jakob had ever seen. Richly embroidered with crimson crosses, the tent dominated the camp's centre, clearly marking the leader's position.
"Lord Godfrey," Jakob began carefully, unable to keep the incredulity from creeping into his voice, "did you seriously attempt to storm Jerusalem with one ladder?"
Godfrey turned sharply, his dark eyes narrowing at the blunt criticism. The nobleman stared at him silently for a moment before Godfrey laughed, the booming sound echoing across the nearby tents.
"God provides miracles to those faithful enough to seek them, Jakob Quade," he replied cheerfully, clapping a powerful hand onto Jakob's shoulder again. "And this morning, when I prayed for divine assistance—I saw you approaching. You are that miracle, sent to help us achieve victory. With your arrival, Jerusalem will be ours. You shall soon see that I am right."
Jakob forced himself to remain neutral as Godfrey swept the tent flap open and beckoned him inside.
Within, commanders stood clustered around a wooden table, maps and documents spread chaotically across the surface. Their heated debates stopped instantly at Godfrey's entrance, and everyone's eyes immediately turned toward Jakob in open curiosity and suspicion.
Godfrey simply smiled and gestured grandly toward Jakob.
"God has heard our prayers!" he declared dramatically. "He has sent us a champion."
Godfrey raised his hand, instantly quieting the seven men whose murmurs faded to silence. All eyes shifted from their leader to Jakob, scrutinizing him with varying degrees of suspicion and curiosity.
One of the knights stepped forward, openly sizing Jakob up before turning back to Godfrey with a look of incredulous irritation.
"C'est quoi ça? Pourquoi avez-vous amené ici cet imbécile?" he asked in disdain.
Jakob didn't speak French, but the contempt in the knight's tone and the word "imbécile" wasn't difficult to grasp. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to snap back, and instead waited as Godfrey calmly raised a hand in Jakob's direction.
"This, Raymond, is our answer," Godfrey announced dramatically. "When our assault on the Holy City faltered, I prayed for a miracle, and this young man appeared before me, alone, unafraid, and guided by God himself."
Jakob resisted rolling his eyes. Conveniently left out Ivy and Pansy, didn't you? Might as well say I walked naked through a storm, he thought dryly.
Godfrey's gaze swept across the gathered knights, his eyes alight with a fierce conviction Jakob had rarely seen, even in the most devoted followers of the dark lord. The Crusader leader's mouth curled into a smirk as he turned pointedly toward Raymond, whose blonde beard and round belly quivered slightly as he inspected Jakob more closely.
"His name," Godfrey said with intentional weight, "is Jakob Quade."
At that, Raymond's eyes widened dramatically, and to Jakob's astonishment, the large man swiftly dropped to one knee, bowing his head low.
"Forgive me," Raymond muttered reverently, raising his hands as if seeking divine forgiveness. "I meant no disrespect to the Lord's chosen."
Jakob stood frozen in disbelief, fighting down an inappropriate laugh. These Muggles were completely mad. He had witnessed reverence before towards Voldemort and Dumbledore, but this was entirely different. It was raw, fervent, and utterly bewildering. Maybe I should look into this Jesus fellow, he mused, tilting his head slightly.
Godfrey, oblivious to Jakob's confusion, beckoned him over to the table that dominated the centre of the tent. The heavy wooden surface held down an elaborate map with four daggers, each corner pinned firmly into place. On its surface were carved wooden markers and symbols indicating the positions of armies and resources.
"We command twelve thousand men, eleven thousand infantry and twelve hundred knights," Godfrey explained, pointing at the marked crosses. "It is a mighty force, but as you see, we lack siege weapons. The heathens salted and burned crops in these areas. Our supplies run thin. We require another miracle."
Jakob frowned, eyeing Godfrey incredulously. "Why would you attack a fortified city without siege weapons?"
Godfrey hesitated, glancing uneasily at his commanders, clearly unaccustomed to being questioned. "You've journeyed from England; surely you know timber for siege engines cannot be easily transported such distances."
Jakob inclined his head slightly, then pointed toward the sea depicted on the map. "And these ships here, what are they?"
"Our reinforcements," replied one knight standing to Jakob's right. "They intended to attack from the sea, but the Jaffa fleet proved stronger than expected. Our ships are now useless."
An older knight to Jakob's left gave a bitter chuckle. "Pathetic galleys, all of them."
The other knights chuckled in their agreement, but Jakob didn't join in. He merely stared blankly at the group in disbelief at their short-sightedness.
"You have your timber right there," Jakob snapped impatiently, gesturing at the ships again.
Godfrey followed Jakob's hand, confusion furrowing his brow. "At sea? But to send ships for timber—"
"Dismantle the ships." Interrupted Jakob, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. Surely they couldn't be this dumb? "Use the wood to build your siege equipment. Send a messenger immediately. Plan properly. Then, perhaps your next attack won't be such a disaster."
Absolute silence filled the tent. Every pair of eyes flicked between Jakob and Godfrey, waiting nervously for the Crusader leader's reaction. Godfrey stared blankly at the map for a moment as he processed Jakob's words. Then, slowly, his expression shifted into genuine astonishment before dissolving into a wide, victorious smile.
"Tu es magnifique, Quade!" Godfrey bellowed joyfully, slamming a triumphant hand down on Jakob's shoulder with enough force to nearly buckle his knees. "You truly are sent from God Himself!"
He turned quickly, snapping his fingers toward a soldier standing nearby. "Envoyez un messager immédiatement avec mes ordres!" The man swiftly dropped to his knees, accepting Godfrey's ring before racing out of the tent.
Godfrey turned back, his eyes gleaming with newfound certainty. "Should your plan succeed, Jakob Quade, you will forever have a place of honor within my new kingdom."
A young boy approached, carefully balancing a tray of ornate wine-filled chalices. Jakob warily eyed the contents in the offered cup until Godfrey gave him an encouraging nod. Reluctantly, he accepted one of the cups, feeling increasingly out of place as the men around him raised their own in a proud salute.
"To God, for sending us this miracle!" Godfrey proclaimed, his voice ringing through the tent. "To Jakob Quade!"
"To Jakob Quade! To God!" The knights chorused, lifting their chalices high.
Jakob stared down into his wine, disbelief and discomfort knotting together in his stomach. Am I seriously drinking with Muggles now? he thought bewildered. Suppressing a sigh, he lifted his cup and took a cautious sip, silently hoping this wouldn't become a habit.
Back at the Followers camp.
Back at the followers' camp, the air felt heavy with smoke and the sharp, metallic scent of blood.
"Ivy, if we don't burn this wound right now, he's going to bleed out," Pansy urged, pressing her hand firmly over the soldier's torn shoulder as blood seeped rapidly through her fingers. "Hurry!"
"I'm almost finished, just hold on—" Ivy's voice cracked slightly, her hand shaking as she held the blade over the open flame. It felt like forever before the iron began to glow. "There, its finished should we-"
"He's gone," Pansy interrupted in a certain but gentler tone as she slowly released the pressure from the lifeless man's body.
Ivy froze mid-motion, the hot blade clattering softly into the dirt at her side. She sat back, and her shoulders sagged in defeat, staring down at her blood-stained hands with a blank expression. Exhaustion was etched deeply into her face, along with the unmistakable sheen of tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall. Her dress, once pristine white, was now splattered with dark stains as evidence of their futile efforts.
She sank heavily onto the ground beside Pansy, fixing her absent gaze on the grim scene around them.
"I don't know how you do it," Ivy finally said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "We've seen more death today than I've seen my entire life. And you just sit there, calm as ever."
Pansy didn't answer immediately. Instead, she let her eyes linger briefly on the fallen soldier before drifting slowly toward the battlefield beyond, where distant shouts echoed faintly through the air. She offered only a slight shrug.
"I don't fear death," she murmured in an oddly distant tone, her eyes still fixed on the distant horizon. "I'm calm because I've seen this world before. I would have died if Jakob hadn't saved me. This isn't new to me."
Ivy studied Pansy curiously, the silence stretching between them as the reality of their circumstances sank deeper. The constant rivalry and their mutual disdain for each other seemed trivial now, swallowed up by the overwhelming weight of suffering around them. There was no Gryffindor or Slytherin here. No blood traitors, no dark witches. Only the harsh, unforgiving truth of survival and loss.
Their competition would eventually resume, but today, each girl knew that the other was the only thing standing between her and death.
Ivy broke the silence in a soft yet thoughtful voice that almost seemed hesitant.
"You talk about Jakob differently," she started slowly, her eyes finding their rest on the dying soldier lying just a few meters away. His face had been horribly burned; half of it melted beyond recognition, one hand still half-raised toward the heavens. His fingers twitched faintly as if still waiting patiently for his God to finally grant him release.
"You speak about him in a way I've never heard anyone talk about Harry," Ivy continued quietly, glancing sideways at the Slytherin girl beside her. "Most of Harry's followers worship him because of who he is supposed to be, the hero they believe him to be. But you… you don't sound like a follower, more like a friend or a sibling. You sound like you'd follow Jakob into battle even if it meant your own death."
Pansy shifted slightly, the sand rustling beneath her as she drew her knees closer, wrapping her arms around them tightly. For a moment, she remained quiet, fixing her gaze steadily toward the distant war camp where she knew Jakob was.
"You're right," she finally admitted in a soft but resolute tone. "I would follow Jake into anything, even if it meant dying. I think it is because he would never never ask that of me." Her voice lowered. "He would rather walk alone than risk anyone else. It's his weakness."
Ivy blinked in surprise, turning fully toward her now with an incredulous expression. "Weakness? Jakob? I've never seen him afraid of anything."
Pansy's dark eyes locked firmly on Ivy's face.
"He is powerful, more powerful than either of us fully understands," Pansy said sharply, with an edge of protectiveness slipping into her tone. "But his weakness is caring. He tries not to show it, but it's always there. No matter how much he pretends otherwise, Jakob cares deeply. Too deeply for those who have proven that they're loyal and trustworthy."
Ivy nodded slowly as Pansy's words sank deeper than she'd expected. Her gaze drifted towards the distant war camp, suddenly seeing Jakob through new eyes. He was everything her brother, the future leader of the Light, wasn't. Unflinchingly honest, fiercely protective, and quietly selfless. Everything Ivy hoped she might someday become.
Back to the present timeline.
"Father, we can't just keep sitting here waiting. Every day that passes is—"
"Enough!" Thomas slammed a palm down on his desk, abruptly silencing his daughter. Emma recoiled, her breath catching sharply as she fought to steady herself. Her eyes shimmered, and she tried her best to hold back the tears that threatened to escape.
He let out a deep sigh, the anger that had risen so hastily just moments before quickly fading from his expression. Stepping around the desk, he approached Emma, placing a gentle hand against her cheek. His thumb brushed lightly against her skin, sweeping away a single tear.
"You look so much like your mother," he said quietly in a heavy and exhausted tone. "And you're becoming just as stubborn."
Emma didn't reply, only tilted her head, leaning into the rare softness of her father's touch.
Thomas turned away, his eyes drifting toward the grey sky beyond the large window. The rain tapped quietly against the glass, blurring his view of the grounds beyond.
"I'm doing everything within my power to bring him back," he finally said in a low, almost defeated voice. "But the Unspeakables have no answers yet. Rookwood insists they're close, but he won't share anything concrete until he's absolutely sure."
Emma swallowed hard, gathering her courage before speaking again in a low, softer voice. "I can't lose him, Dad. Even after everything that's happened… He's still my little brother. If that last fight between us becomes—"
"I know, Emma," Thomas interrupted softly. "I was there. I cursed my own son. If that moment is all I'm left with…" He exhaled heavily, shaking his head as if to clear it and the sorrow away. He returned slowly to his desk, lowering himself back into his chair with a weary groan. It felt as though he'd aged a decade in just these past few days.
Emma hesitated, carefully considering her next words. "Can't the other families step in? Lucius could—"
Thomas shook his head sharply. "No. They've pulled back, retreating behind their wards. Those recent attacks on pureblood families have them scared, unwilling to take any more risks. Lucius has done what he can, but he's on his own path now. We're alone in this."
Emma accepted his words with a silent nod before turning away. Her footsteps faded quickly, leaving Thomas alone in the quiet gloom of his office.
His gaze returned to the rain-streaked window, watching the droplets slip down the glass. With reluctance, he turned back to the blank parchment he'd been avoiding and slowly lifted his quill.
"You'll be alright, Jakob," he murmured to himself. "You're stronger than Emma, smarter than I've ever been. One day, you'll grow stronger, and surpass even your mother."
Thomas took a steadying breath, dipping the quill into the ink bottle, finally beginning to write the letter he hoped his son would one day read.
Authors note: This battle has actually happened. It's called the First Crusade and was led by, you guessed it, Godfrey of Bouillon. The army (which was as large in number as I wrote in the story) actually tried their first attack by using only ONE ladder. Crazy, I know. If you want to read more about it (and spoil who wins), you can search for it on Google. I hope you all have a nice day. I will see you in the next chapter.
Ps: The snake (R.I.P) was a Naja arabica for those interested in it.
Cheers!