For more chapters
patreon.com/Liamlivingstone
Time had reached December. After Halloween's Quidditch match, Harry had been struck by a bludger, broken his arm—and undergone Lockhart's bone-restoration treatment. Yet everything still seemed unchanged. Even though the Basilisk was gone, the attacks continued. Colin Creevey wasn't petrified this time—but was found collapsed in a corridor, unconscious, blood pouring from his nose.
Professors rushed over, swiftly evacuating students.
"This is the Killing Curse!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed after a careful examination. Lockhart, however, laughed off her alarm:
"McGonagall, Colin isn't dead—just smacked silly by a prank spell." She ignored him, and Dumbledore intervened.
"Take him to the infirmary immediately," Dumbledore ordered. "He's been hit by the Killing Curse—but the caster's power was weak, so he survived." Professors leapt into action, leaving only Lockhart behind. He sniffed disdainfully; his position at Hogwarts had grown precarious—students doubted his abilities and fellow staff continued to scorn him.
Lockhart clenched his teeth. "If I just last until June… I can still make my comeback." He shook his head and trudged to his office. Count Dantes had advised patience—hide at Hogwarts until the abusive letters eased. They'd subsided… but why had the woman who sent them fallen silent? It didn't matter; as long as he maintained the marriage, Avery would eventually be his. The Earl was cunning indeed!
Lost in thought, Lockhart reached his office—and found a leather-bound notebook on his desk.
"A gift from an admirer?" he mused, turning it over.
"An old notebook, though… a prank?" He hesitated—for then he heard a voice in his mind:
"Do you want to become stronger? If so, write in the diary."
Lockhart froze. The notebook pulsed with a mysterious pull. He opened it, struck by the voice's power.
"I am the great Gilderoy Lockhart: Order of Merlin Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Arts Defense League, five-time Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, and close friend of Lord Dak Dantes! Why am I looked down upon by students and staff? I deserve respect!" he wrote fervently. The ink seeped in—and then, words appeared:
"I am Tom Riddle. I can help you gain respect."
Unbeknownst to Dana, the diary had found Lockhart. Meanwhile, Dana and Donna kept up their "lover's" correspondence from Dentis Castle. Donna continued studying the tapestry—Dana intercepted the key via the Golden Finger. He'd meant to ask her for help—but now delayed; the Fire Serpent Party hadn't yet finished gathering Lockhart's evidence, and he feared asking for too much. Not all fifteen hundred members had the skill to investigate like Aurors—he'd better ask Mr. Borgin.
Luckily, Lockhart's novels contained clues. Victims could be identified quickly. And he had good news: Dana had designed a defensive magic array to cover the new city—his leverage to influence the European Wizarding World. But he needed a magic source. Hogwarts records listed two ways: a magic array or an alchemical item—both could gather ambient magic. The former lacked materials… the latter he didn't know how to make.
"Merlin's magic source."
[None!] the Golden Finger replied.
"Merlin's Gryffindor Silver Marrow."
[None! None!]
No luck. The Golden Finger sputtered insults:
—Golden Finger's pride was hurt; it couldn't identify either.
"Merlin's Philosopher's Stone!"
[None! None! None! Idiot! The key is beside you—are you too lazy to explore?]
Dana frowned—and produced the tapestry from his necklace. Donna Avery and John Flint had nearly solved its secrets; they located Merlin's tomb and treasury key—but Dana intercepted the key with the Golden Finger. That made him pause: if the tapestry's secrets were nearly uncovered, why did Donna continue studying it? Maybe he'd been too hasty.
Spreading the tapestry over his bed, Dana examined it closely. He'd grown up seeing this tapestry; it once meant nothing. Now, awakened to his Merlin bloodline and under Hogwarts' influence, he noticed faint magical residue woven into the fabric. Inspecting it thoroughly, he realized the weave was unusual. The threads didn't follow a simple grid—they twisted like a playful child tangled them. He never understood it… but now he had a clue.
He counted the interwoven patterns—twenty‑six shapes. Coincidentally, twenty‑six letters. The first part was simple: match shapes to letters.
"The end is also the beginning, by Bristol Bay, the center guarded by three 'half‑mountains.'"
Dana didn't need to guess: it described Merlin's tomb—the very place where Donna and John had discovered the portkey and Merlin's beardless body. Why hadn't they reached the treasury? Perhaps the key opened only part of it. The "end is the beginning" hinted at channeling power through Merlin's body.
The second section read clearly:
"The power of the bloodline needs guidance; Avalon, the former place of confinement, I left directions there."
Avalon. Legendary Elysium. It truly existed. It couldn't be ethereal if directions were left there. Dana snapped—this must refer to Merlin's notebook, already in his possession.
Excellent. With the first two sections deciphered, the third remained:
"1‑2‑18, 13‑4‑21…"
Rows of three‑number sequences—clearly a code. Donna had likely been stuck here. Baking the first two clues into a simple letter substitution, the third encoded something even more vital to Merlin.
He glanced at the parchment that scolded him—"Idiot!"—and realized: once he deciphered this last secret, what he sought would be within reach. The Golden Finger might not find what he needed—but it hadn't lied when praising the tapestry's secrets. Merlin's beard had indeed been plucked by him… and now the tapestry was calling.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Liamlivingstone