The Lair of the Veil
Sally traveled by car with Gema and Adrien toward the vicinity of the Tower of London. However, before reaching the main entrance, Adrien turned off onto a side bridge and descended into a hidden tunnel that stretched several meters underground. When he deemed they had gone far enough, he stopped the car.
Around them, a few tourists were still wandering near the tower, completely unaware of what was happening beneath their feet. They laughed, took pictures, and none suspected that, just a few meters away, there was an entrance to something far older and far more secret.
Adrien walked calmly, leading the two women toward what seemed to be a dead-end wall. Yet instead of trying to enter, he nodded at the guard discreetly stationed nearby. The man returned the gesture and pressed a concealed button on the wall.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, with a deep, grinding sound, the floor began to move. A heavy stone slab shifted slowly aside, revealing a descending staircase.
"Sorry, it's an old mechanism. Takes a bit to move. Maybe we should hire someone to fix it," Gema said with an amused smile after the long wait.
Adrien was the first to go down, followed by Gema and Sally. The staircase was well lit by lamps embedded in the stone walls, and as they descended, the distant sound of the slab above closing echoed through the passage with the same slow, deliberate rhythm as when it had opened.
The descent was long. The walls, covered in carved runes and worn engravings, radiated an air of ancient solemnity. Sally gazed around in fascination, trying to decipher the faded symbols that seemed to shimmer faintly under the light.
At the bottom, a metallic gate blocked their way. Adrien opened it effortlessly, and what awaited on the other side left Sally breathless.
Before her stretched a vast underground chamber of stone, separated by a thick transparent wall of reinforced glass. The room was square, wide, and eerily silent—but what truly captured her attention were the objects it held. Swords, daggers, suits of armor, ancient jars, and countless other artifacts were displayed within crystal cases. Some emanated such an intense aura that faint black smoke drifted from them, swirling like a cursed whisper.
Sally quickly noticed that several pairs of eyes were fixed on her. Men and women, stationed strategically among the shadows, observed every move, ready to strike if necessary.
Adrien made a subtle gesture with his hand, and the tension in their gazes eased slightly, though the vigilance never fully disappeared.
As they walked down the corridor, Sally examined the glass wall more closely. It was thicker than she had expected, likely stronger than any ordinary barrier. She realized its purpose—to observe the relics without risking contact. If a single broken sword had caused such chaos among the knights, she didn't want to imagine what would happen if someone stole one of these intact artifacts.
At the center of the room stood a pedestal more ornate than the rest, protected by an elevated glass casing. It was empty. Sally assumed that was where the hero's sword—now stolen—had once rested.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Gema said with a faintly proud smile. "This place is called The Lair of the Veil. It's one of the three knightly orders that still exist. Its duty is to collect, protect, and contain dangerous objects, magical or not, that could bring disaster if they fell into the wrong hands."
Sally listened attentively. She still found it curious how much Gema's demeanor shifted depending on the company. When there were no men nearby, she was kind, even charming; but as soon as two or more appeared, her expression hardened and her tone turned sharp. A contrast Sally couldn't quite understand.
"Non-magical objects? You keep those too?" Sally asked, puzzled. She wasn't referring to ordinary weapons or modern technology—there was nothing remotely new here—but to the idea of something deadly that carried no magic at all. "I don't mean they don't exist… it's just hard to imagine," she added quickly, afraid she might sound arrogant.
Gema smiled kindly. "Don't worry, I get what you mean." She then pointed to a sword suspended within its glass case, releasing a faint thread of gray smoke. "That sword has no enchantments. Its materials are completely ordinary, but the man who forged it used it to take so many lives that it became cursed. Anyone who wields it goes insane. There isn't a trace of magic on it, and even magic itself can't cure whoever touches it. No one understands what kind of power corrupted it."
Sally stared at the weapon, uneasy. If it wasn't magic… then it had to be something else. Something that belonged to the world Morgana refused to explain to her, though she knew her children were tied to it somehow. She frowned slightly, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself. Perhaps she was overthinking.
Adrien noticed her expression, raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but said nothing.
After walking through the main corridor, they reached a reinforced wooden door. Adrien knocked twice and waited until a mature voice called from inside.
"Come in."
He opened the door, and Gema and Sally followed him inside.
The office was spacious and orderly, illuminated by golden lamps that cast a warm glow across the stone walls. Behind a desk piled with parchments and folders sat an elderly man with silver hair. His face was deeply lined with age, yet his body retained an imposing strength—muscular arms, scarred hands, and a neck marked by dark, jagged wounds.
Sally noticed them instantly. They were scars left by dark magic. She wasn't an expert, but Morgana had taught her how to recognize them: they looked like writhing worms beneath the skin, vile and permanent. This man had clearly survived more than one battle against dark wizards.
The old man lifted his gaze from the papers before him. He looked first at Adrien, then at Gema, and finally, his eyes settled on Sally.
A chill ran down her spine. That gaze didn't belong to a mere human—it was the gaze of a predator, studying her, weighing her worth. For a fleeting moment, she felt as though she were standing before an ancient dragon, deciding whether to devour her… or let her live.
"Grandfather, this is Sally Jackson, the mage who's been helping us," Adrien explained, stepping forward. "She seems to have a method to extract information from the prisoner the wizards handed over to us."
Sally felt the intensity of the old man's gaze lessen slightly at those words. Vincent, who only moments ago had seemed so stern and dangerous, suddenly allowed a faint, teasing smile to appear—directed straight at his grandson.
"So, she's the one," he murmured as he rose slowly to his feet. His tone became more relaxed as he approached Sally, giving Adrien a gentle push aside. The young man rolled his eyes, resigned.
"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Jackson. I'm Vincent Cavendish—this one's grandfather… and the other one's too," he said with a kind smile that contrasted sharply with his intimidating presence.
Sally blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected such a friendly tone.
"Ah… hello. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cavendish," she replied respectfully, though a bit uneasy.
"You can call me Vincent," the old man said warmly. "So then, what is it that you need?"
"Ah, right… this." Sally pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper and handed it to him. "It's the list of materials I'm missing."
Vincent took the paper, gave it a quick glance, and nodded without much comment.
"Good. I'll send someone to retrieve them. In the meantime, you can wait here. Adrien, come with me."
The old man turned around and walked out with his hands clasped behind his back, moving with the calm composure of someone who had lived through too many wars. Adrien followed him without hesitation, leaving Sally alone with Gema.
Gema watched her for a moment before smiling. "Don't be fooled by his friendly attitude," she said in a casual tone, waving her hand with a lack of respect that made it clear she wasn't afraid of her superior. "He's one of the three elders of the Order. Even though we don't have a formal hierarchy, everyone respects their seniority. He and the other two are the oldest members we have. Vincent is known as the Guardian of the Veil. In the ancient wars, those three were the only survivors of a catastrophe that nearly destroyed both the magical and non-magical worlds."
Sally listened carefully, not fully understanding the weight of those words. Gema seemed to notice, so she continued with a clearer explanation.
"Basically, our Order follows the legacy of the Round Table, though adapted to modern times. Each knight has a voice and a vote in decisions, and they can be sent on various missions to protect the realm and those who live within it. However, the Order is divided into three main guards, each under the protection of one of those elders."
Gema raised a finger as she listed them:
"Sir Vincent Cavendish: Protector of dangerous relics and the balance between worlds.
Sir Alaric Wyndam: Guardian of the Crown, direct protector of the king and the royal bloodline.
And Dame Elara Ravenshield: Guardian of the Realm, protector of the people and the kingdom's borders from external threats."
"The three of them cannot be replaced. They're said to be the most powerful knights in the entire Order. The rest of us—including me—can be assigned to missions under any of their three jurisdictions."
Sally blinked, surprised. "Are you even allowed to tell me all this?"
Gema laughed softly. "Sorry, Sally, but the moment you stepped in here, you fell right into Adrien and his grandfather's trap. No one enters this chamber without their approval. Not even that pompous Lockhart managed to set foot in here. So yes… they probably plan to drag you into our little group of medieval weirdos."
Sally froze, unsure how to react.
Gema burst out laughing at her expression. "Hahaha, relax. They won't force you, but I'm sure they'll offer you benefits you won't be able to refuse. Free advice—ask for double."
Sally remained speechless. Part of her was confused; another part… tempted. The deal she had made with the knights was simple: she would help them locate the hero's broken sword, and in return, her children would be protected at least until they turned eleven and went to Hogwarts.
However, after seeing the knights' power—and remembering how they'd fought even against high-level wizards—she couldn't help but think it wouldn't be such a bad idea to extend that protection. Especially since she suspected her ally, Morgana, was hiding something from her.
Morgana always said her punishment was to "clean," but Sally knew it wasn't that simple. She had seen her return several times with blood on her shoes. She didn't know whose blood it was, but if a witch as powerful as Morgana came back that exhausted, it had to be something enormous.
The thought sent a chill down her spine. Perhaps that "cleaning" had something to do with her own children… and with the attacks they'd suffered when they were small.
…
Meanwhile, outside the office, Adrien walked beside his grandfather down a hallway lined with ancient display cases. Vincent kept a grave expression, his footsteps echoing with authority.
"You seem to trust her quite a bit," the old man remarked, his gaze fixed ahead.
Adrien nodded. "At first, she seemed suspicious. There are things she appears to know—even more than we do—but at the same time, she lacks concrete knowledge. That contradiction confused me." He glanced sideways at a case containing a black sword wreathed in smoke. "But she's a woman who lives for her children. Everything she does, she does for them. She helped us without any proof that we were trustworthy, knowing most wizards either fear us or avoid us entirely. And while she clearly knows more than she lets on, she isn't a threat. In fact, she could be a valuable ally."
"Why do you think so?" Vincent asked.
"Because she wants the same things we do—protection and stability. She's earned the respect of several knights and is always willing to help. She even brought a magical book full of information that surpasses anything in our archives. Mark, who's read every single volume we possess, said he'd never seen anything like it. And it wasn't just one… there were two."
Adrien paused, crossing his arms. "What's curious is that she seems to be learning from scratch, as if she's never lived in the magical world until now. It's like she's only just discovered it."
Vincent pondered for a moment before murmuring, "Then that explains why she wasn't consumed by it. Most wizards who enter this world driven by ambition or fear end up lost. But someone who only seeks to protect… is different."
There was a brief silence. Then the old man asked in a low voice, his eyes sharp and deliberate,
"Is she clean?"
"Yes. She lived in the United States," Adrien began seriously. "Her parents died in a plane crash when she was a child. She was raised by her uncle, but when he fell ill, she left her studies to take care of him. After his death, she was left alone, without money, working part-time jobs to survive. That's when she met a sailor. From what it seems, he fell in love with her—or made her believe he did—and then deceived her, vanishing into the sea and leaving her with a child."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "One? But she has two."
Adrien nodded slowly. "The other child is Harry Potter—or rather, The Boy Who Lived. The hero of the magical world."
The old man fell silent, his interest now fully captured.
"How did he end up with her?" he finally asked.
"No one really knows," Adrien replied, folding his arms again. "At that time, Tom Riddle's followers were in chaos, and we were too busy preventing them from attacking civilians freely. It's possible that some wizard tried to send the boy out of the country and he ended up with Sally Jackson. Or perhaps one of his magical relatives intentionally placed him with her. What's certain is that someone gave her a considerable amount of gold so she could travel to England with both children and buy a house right next to the boy's blood aunt. According to Mark, there may be some kind of blood-bound protection that requires the child to remain close to that aunt. Apparently, Sally abandoned everything in her country to give him a home here."
Vincent was silent for a moment. His usually severe expression softened into one of quiet respect and admiration.
"Truly… a remarkable mother," he murmured with a faint smile before nodding firmly. "Good. Have her take the test and the oath. If she passes, grant her whatever protection she needs for her children and support her in her magical studies. In fact…" he looked up, his tone turning resolute, "give her even greater support than Mark."
Adrien's eyes widened slightly in surprise. The level of support Mark received was the highest the Order could provide: access to all ancient grimoires, safe magical artifacts, rare materials for research, and even authorization to experiment with advanced magical theory under supervision. Such privileges were reserved for a select few, and Mark held them only because of a magical contract that bound him to the Order.
Sally, on the other hand, had no such formal ties.
Even so, Adrien nodded respectfully. "Understood, Grandfather."
As he walked away down the corridor, Vincent remained alone in the vast underground hall. His gaze drifted toward the empty display case where the hero's broken sword had once rested.
A calm, almost satisfied smile crossed his face.
"We may have lost the sword," he murmured to himself, "but perhaps we've gained something far more valuable."
He clasped his hands behind his back and continued walking slowly among the relics.
"Our greatest weakness has always been the lack of mages and magical craftsmen. But with her… perhaps that will change. I wonder how jealous those two old fools will be when they find out."
His laughter echoed softly through the stone corridor, mingling with the distant hum of runes that still glowed faintly on the walls.
….
N/A: What do you think of this arc? Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but I had a very detailed plan for the knights—especially for future arcs. After all, they're in Europe. I won't give any spoilers, but they'll be quite helpful once Harry and Percy are older. Still, I could speed up this arc a little if you'd prefer.