Ollivander was visited by a peculiar customer. The wand—twelve and eight‑tenths inches long, made of ebony with a Chinese Fireball dragon heartstring core—chose him. Intriguingly, this visitor also produced another wand nearly identical, save for being just three‑tenths of an inch shorter. Ollivander was stunned—for a full two seconds. But then, the memory of the strange visitor, and even of the wand he had crafted, vanished. A Memory Charm erased it all. Even the records of Dana Emrys' wand were altered to twelve and eight‑tenths inches.
That same day, Podge, the Gringotts banker, once again met the "millionaire" Dirk Dents. Dirk exchanged two thousand ancient gold coins… plus tens of thousands of Muggle pounds. The sheer volume of Muggle currency baffled Podge. Why would anyone convert so much? In his eyes, it was utterly pointless. Wealthy people—truly inscrutable beings.
Dana, under the guise of Dirk Dents, rode the Muggle train. Apparition demands a precise destination or a photograph of it. Without that, wizards can't transport themselves through space or time—not even via Portkeys. So Dana asked Marcus Flint for John Flint's address: a hidden estate in Puddleton, reachable only by a one‑hour drive through mountain roads from High Wycombe. He spent nearly a day tracking it down, arriving around 5:30 pm.
He knew the Flint family vineyard was wizard‑owned—perfectly legal territory to cast spells. After some searching, he found the caretaker's cottage. A wizarding couple and a young wizard lived there. The child was a third‑year Ravenclaw—someone Dana had met before. That meant he wouldn't be pursued by the Ministry of Magic for spellcasting nearby—especially during Christmas holidays, when the Ministry staff were preoccupied.
Dana hid behind the woodshed and opened a portal to Livingston. He dined at a small tavern, greeted his wizarding neighbors, then returned home to reopen a portal to Puddleton. To avoid risk, he emerged not as Dirk—or himself—but as a black cat. In feline form under the cover of darkness, he sneaked through the vineyard unnoticed.
Marcus Flint's vague directions made the search difficult. Only after the moon had risen did Dana spot a small cottage nestled against a rising hillside—its only illumination a faint oil lamp inside.
A hundred yards away, he crept silently and overheard voices:
Donna Avery: "Sally Avery is missing, and now you claim the key's gone! You think I'm a fool? You want the treasure for yourself!"
Dana recognized the voice immediately—the cruel woman who had tormented him and his mother.
John Flint (angry): "I haven't seen Sally Avery, either! But I wouldn't let a Squib keep the key if I meant to steal it. That key's locked in a goblin‑crafted vault! I don't know how it vanished!"
Donna (ranting): "Don't lie, Flint! Four years! If I hadn't helped decode that tapestry, you'd never have found the key! Without cracking the map to the vault, you're trying to steal it yourself! If the family hadn't sent someone to collect the tithe from Sally Avery, I wouldn't even know she was gone! I came to check—but instead you're pulling this on me!"
John replied bitterly: "Donna Avery! The key's gone. I don't know what happened. And I suspected you! You were the first to locate Merlin's tomb. You had time to swap the body. The images show Merlin with a beard—but the corpse we recovered didn't! No beard at all. Impossible to tell after so many centuries—unless someone else did this beforehand. I nearly lost everything when I discovered the key concealed in the coffin lid. And I still suspect you took advantage."
Donna (furious): "Bullshit! That body's useless—worthless! How would I benefit? And you saw it yourself—three curse‑breakers died from the tomb's protections. If not for age and erosion of the magical wards, they'd have all perished! How could I have replaced the body after all that?"
John: "Excuses! You could've faked it!"
Donna: "You're the one trying to steal the treasure!"
John: "I didn't!"
Donna: "I spent four years on this. You owe me an explanation, or I'm not done!"
Suddenly, her voice dropped. "Crucio!"
Dana felt the familiar tingle of a Cruciatus curse aimed at John. Then came the cry: "Ah—die! Avada Kedavra!"
Blinding green light pierced the night. Dana's heart pounded. These people—savage, reckless—deserved Azkaban. And their argument revealed something important. They fought not because Sally Avery had vanished—but because the tapestry held Merlin's treasure. Even without Sally's key, John Flint was ready to kill for it.
And Dana, linked by his golden finger to Merlin's legacy, felt how tangled everything had become.
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