Chapter 10: The Ministry's Warning
The morning sun, weak and pale, streamed through Iago Tower's arched window, its frost-streaked panes scattering light across worn floorboards, glinting off a chipped goblet crusted with dried tea. The air smelled of old wood and wax, a faint comfort against the triumph of Pixel's cure, the golden potion tucked in a velvet pouch on a scarred table. We saved him, but it's not over. Leo's fingers brushed the pouch, its fabric soft but heavy, his heart thudding with fragile hope. Enid sat cross-legged on a frayed rug, twisting her scarf's loose threads, her breath misting in the chill. Hermione scribbled notes, her quill's scratch a steady heartbeat, ink smudging her sleeve. Gothic tapestries rippled, their faded Ravenclaw crests whispering secrets, as if the dorm itself watched their defiance. This place knows we're fighting. A loose floorboard creaked under Leo's boot, grounding his resolve.
A low rustle of feathers snapped his attention to the windowsill. A stern barn owl landed with a heavy thump, its dark eyes glinting like obsidian, talons clutching a black envelope sealed with the Ministry's menacing wax crest. The sharp snap of wax as Leo broke it open sent a shiver down his spine, the parchment's cold weight heavy in his trembling hands. Authority's pissed. The words were stark: "Cease all interference in matters of Ministry concern. Your recent actions have been noted. Further pursuit of unauthorized magical research will result in disciplinary action." The sterile threat curled like smoke, chilling the air. They know about the ruins, the venom, Pixel. How long have they watched? His gut twisted, unease coiling tight as a snake, the Nevermore ruins' shadows lingering in his mind.
[TROUBLE'S KNOCKING. THEY'RE WATCHING YOU CLOSELY.]
A surveillance-eye animation blinked in his vision, its rhythm slow and deliberate. Leo's jaw clenched, defiance sparking like a struck match.
"They're watching? We'll see about that."
His voice was a low growl, the parchment crinkling as he tore it in half, the rip sharp in the quiet dorm. Hermione slammed her hand on the table, rattling the chipped goblet, her eyes blazing with righteous fury.
"This is a scare tactic! They're scared we'll expose them! They know we're onto them, and they're trying to intimidate us into silence."
She's right. They're scared. Enid's hand brushed his, her grip warm and fierce, her scarf snagging on a splintered chair.
"They're not bullying us into stopping, right?"
Leo nodded, resolve burning like the Basilisk venom's glow.
"They're not going to stop us."
"Wrackspurts muddy their threats."
Luna Lovegood drifted in, her radish earrings glinting, clutching a frayed notebook. Leo laughed, the absurdity easing his tension.
"Wrackspurts? You think they're infected with Wrackspurts, Luna?"
"Of course."
Her airy voice was a balm, her smile knowing.
"Their motives are all confused and their thoughts are all jumbled. It's the only logical explanation."
"Handy to know."
Leo quipped, the owl's scattered feathers stirring on the sill, a reminder of the Ministry's reach. They won't silence us. A chipped candlestick dripped wax, its uneven pool grounding their defiance.
The dormitory was a bunker, its gothic tapestries casting shadows in flickering candlelight, their faded crests watching the Outcasts—Leo, Enid, Hermione, Wednesday, Agnes—huddled around the table. The barriers hummed faintly, sealing their sanctuary, the air thick with cedar smoke from the fireplace. This is our fight. Wednesday's eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through like a blade.
"They're not just going to send a note. They'll retaliate. I had a vision of a cloaked figure near the Ministry, planning it."
Thorne. From the ruins. Leo's gut knotted, the scorched hydra scale in his pocket seeming to pulse. Enid gripped his hand, her touch steady.
"We're stronger together."
Her whisper sparked hope, her scarf brushing his arm. Hermione nodded, her quill pausing.
"She's right. We've got the evidence—the tablet, the potion. We can use this against them."
Agnes conjured a tiny owl illusion, its wings flapping comically, eyes wide with mock fear.
"Scared of us? Good."
Her smirk drew a tense laugh, easing the air. We're a team. They planned to find a smoking gun, voices overlapping in urgent whispers. A frayed tapestry thread dangled, urging them forward. We need undeniable proof.
The Restricted Section was a crypt of secrets, its air heavy with dust and ancient parchment's sweet decay, the tomes humming faintly under a chipped lantern's glow. Leo's fingers grazed cracked spines, his heart pounding. We need the curse's link. Hermione's breath hitched, her robes dusted with grime, her quill tucked behind her ear. Hours passed, eyes strained, fingers caked with dust. A tattered parchment, hidden between tomes, revealed Ministry experiments with Basilisk venom to "control the Outcasts." They built this, like the Basilisk echo. Leo's blood boiled, the parchment's brittle edge cutting his thumb, a faint sting grounding his fury.
[THE MINISTRY'S GOT A SKELETON CLOSET BIGGER THAN HOGWARTS. DIG CAREFULLY.]
A skeleton animation danced, rattling mockingly. Leo's lips twitched.
"Careful? My middle name is anything but."
Hermione's face paled, her voice a horrified murmur.
"This is… this is so much bigger than us."
Her eyes met his, determination burning. We're in this together.
"They created this. They unleashed this monster on people like us."
"Bureaucrats and curses? Worst combo."
He muttered, dust tickling his nose, trying to lighten the mood. Hermione smirked, her quill resuming its scratch.
"Worse than your puns."
Their defiance solidified, a quiet promise in the library's hush. A frayed bookmark fluttered, urging action. We've got the evidence. Time to sting. Leo's cloak chafed his neck, sweat-soaked from hours of searching, a physical cost of their resolve.
The dorm's fireplace crackled, its warmth battling the chill of their discoveries, the air thick with cedar and tension. A chipped quill on the table rolled, a mundane anchor to their plan. Enid leaned closer, her voice fierce.
"We hit them where it hurts—expose their lies."
Her scarf caught on the table's edge, tugging free a thread. Wednesday's dagger glinted as she spoke.
"I saw a figure in my vision—cloaked, near the Ministry's archives. They're hiding more."
Thorne's planning something. Leo's beast-speaking tingled, sensing danger beyond the barriers, like the hydra's echo in the ruins. Agnes conjured a shimmering map illusion, its edges flickering.
"Ministry's scared? Let's make them panic."
Her grin was infectious, easing the tension. We're not just Outcasts—we're a threat. The plan sharpened: infiltrate the Ministry's archives, using the potion's success and Nevermore's tablet as leverage. A loose floorboard creaked, grounding their resolve. We're coming for you.
A sudden knock rattled the dorm's door, the barriers flaring briefly. A second owl, smaller but equally stern, dropped a scroll marked with the Ministry's crest, its wax seal cracked. Another warning? Leo's heart raced, the parchment's weight lighter but no less ominous. "Further interference will be met with severe consequences," it read, the words sharper than the first. They're desperate. Hermione's quill froze, her voice low.
"They're escalating."
Leo nodded, defiance flaring.
"Then we escalate too."
The scroll's ink smelled faintly of ash, tying back to the ruins' scorched scale. They're watching, but we're fighting. A chipped inkwell tipped, spilling a drop, urging them toward the fight.
[POKING THE MINISTRY'S HORNET NEST. STING'S COMING.]
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