Chapter 484: Manor, Bats, and a Black Dog
Chapter 484: Manor, Bats, and a Black Dog
Two ragged men stumbled out of the forest, half walking and half rolling down a narrow path on the hillside.
At the top of the hill stood a grand house, but the roof tiles were missing, the windows boarded up, and the walls covered in sprawling ivy, giving it a desolate and eerie appearance.
The two men swallowed hard and hid behind a tree, observing the building that looked like a haunted house.
"This place looks completely abandoned", one man said. "We might be able to rest here for a few days in peace."
"Do you know what? Old houses like this usually have ghost stories that have been passed down for years", the other man said.
They exchanged a glance.
Garr saw a glint of longing in Lockhart's eyes—this wizard had endured a lot recently and was desperately in need of a place to rest.
So much so that he almost forgot the sheer terror he felt when the vampires caught him and used him as food.
Lockhart, on the other hand, saw caution in Garr's eyes—this bat, being a close relative of a rat, had a fear as small as a rat's.
Their gazes clashed for a moment, neither willing to back down.
"There's nothing to fear from ghosts", Lockhart said. "I saw them every day at Hogwarts."
"I'm not afraid of ghosts, but I'm afraid of the people who might live inside", Garr said. "An abandoned house far from people—doesn't that sound familiar? Wizards love to live in places like this."
The sensitive word made Lockhart feel a bit nervous, and he subconsciously gripped his wand.
His own wand had been broken by the damned vampires, but fortunately, Garr had managed to grab an old wand while escaping.
It wasn't ideal, but it worked.
With the wand in hand, Lockhart felt a bit braver.
"I haven't sensed any magic around here... at least no Muggle-Repelling Charm. If there are people inside, they're probably not wizards; and even if they are, they're likely old-fashioned types from a century ago."
Lockhart urged, "I've dealt with such people many times. It's simple—catch them off guard, cast an Obliviate, and it's all over."
Garr was tempted but still hesitated.
"What are you afraid of? You can turn into a bat and check it out first. If there are people, they'll be your meal; if not, we can hide here for a while... It's getting dark, Garr, and it's been cloudy lately."
Garr shivered involuntarily.
Darkness was normal, and cloudy weather was common in Britain, but for the two of them, such gloomy conditions always reminded them of Dementors.
The day he carried Lockhart out of Hogsmeade, Garr discovered Aurors lurking nearby. He even confirmed that a wizard had seen him, but the vampires' larger target probably distracted the Aurors, preventing them from pursuing.
To avoid being caught and sent back to Azkaban, Lockhart had cast various Concealment Charms on both of them, which prevented the Aurors from tracking them. Unfortunately, this also meant Garr couldn't seek help from his uncle.
Since then, the two had lost all contact with the wizarding world and had been on the run, hiding and fleeing. Whenever the weather worsened, they had to find a place to hide immediately.
They had stayed in tree hollows, mountain caves, and even hidden in sewers. Once, they barely managed to squeeze into the trunk of a car. They had almost tried everything except for rat holes.
—They didn't know that the Ministry of Magic, to avoid disrupting the Quidditch World Cup, had already returned all the Dementors to Azkaban.
Not only did Lockhart yearn for a safe and comfortable environment, but Garr was also reaching his limit.
So after a few more words of persuasion from Lockhart, Garr was convinced, but he also laid down his own condition.
"Give me a drink", Garr said, licking his lips. "I haven't eaten in two days, I'm weak, and if we run into trouble, I won't be able to fly fast enough."
Lockhart was reluctant. "There's a village at the bottom of the hill. You can steal a chicken or a pig, and we'll both have food."
"No. Muggles will notice quickly and raise the alarm, which might draw the attention of the Ministry", Garr firmly refused.
Whether human or animal, a drained corpse was easily noticed, and Garr didn't want to take that risk.
"Is the Ministry that sharp?" Lockhart asked.
But seeing Garr standing still, a few seconds later, Lockhart finally relented. "Do you have a cup?"
Garr, of course, didn't carry a cup. He picked a broad leaf, rolled it into a cup shape, and looked at Lockhart expectantly.
Lockhart had no choice. He took out his wand and pointed it at his wrist. A thin wound suddenly appeared, and fresh blood began to flow.
Garr's eyes instantly turned blood-red.
After letting the blood fill a small cup, Lockhart immediately healed the wound. When he looked up and saw the greedy and hungry look in Garr's eyes, his heart tightened.
Usually, they were partners, fleeing and supporting each other, but whenever Garr demanded blood, Lockhart felt like he was just a portable reserve of food.
This look made him feel extremely dangerous, but he had no confidence that he could survive on his own if he left Garr.
"Go check that old house", Lockhart said, feigning calm. "If we're lucky, it might be our new hiding place."
Garr drank the blood, licked the leaves clean, and then transformed into a bat, flying toward the old house.
He didn't really think it was dangerous; he just wanted to trick some blood out of Lockhart.
For Garr, a magical creature with both wizarding abilities and vampire powers, it was easy to detect the presence of wizards. He could sense the magical aura from a distance.
If a wizard turned their home into a ruin, they would certainly cast various repelling charms around it, not just to drive away Muggles but also dark creatures like vampires.
In other words, any house he could approach without hindrance was likely not related to wizards.
After some reasoning, Garr flew directly toward the old house, landing silently on the wall of the manor.
As he expected, Garr didn't feel any magical power. The old house was abandoned and had been empty for a long time.
But the estate wasn't entirely uninhabited—there was a dilapidated little wooden shack in the courtyard, from which came the sound of clinking and clanging.
The bat glided down from the high wall and hung lightly outside the window of the shack, its round black eyes peering through the cracks.
Inside, there was an old Muggle, about seventy to eighty years old, limping around the room, struggling to boil water and cook meat. He seemed to be preparing his dinner.
The meat sizzled in the pan, and the enticing aroma wafted out. The old Muggle flipped the meat with a spatula and sprinkled some dark seasoning.
—Perfect.
Garr watched the veins on the old Muggle's neck and arms, thinking: Now both I and the wizard conman will have dinner.
He knew that such isolated old men were like homeless people in the city; no one would notice if they died or disappeared silently.
The bat opened its mouth, revealing a mouthful of sharp, fine teeth, and prepared to let go of the window frame.
He was going to slip inside, transform back into human form, and feast.
But just as Garr was about to do so, a sharp instinct made his hairs stand on end.
He saw the old Muggle accidentally touch the hot edge of the pan but act as if he didn't feel the heat, still picking up the pan.
The bat nearly fell, leaning closer to see if the old man was actually a ghoul in disguise.
As he watched, he suddenly heard a voice: "Soul Separation!"
Garr instantly forgot everything, feeling his soul become light and free, devoid of any worry or anxiety.
He fell from the window, transforming back into human form, with a dazed and foolish smile on his face.
"What's going on?"
A cold, sharp voice asked.
"Master, a vampire has intruded", someone replied respectfully.
"Check his mind... see who sent him..."
"Legilimens!"
Images flashed through Garr's mind like a movie, but he was lost in an unknown joy and didn't care.
"An Azkaban escapee", the man said, surprised. "He came here... and he has a companion outside."
...
A line of ants marched in neat formation, their antennae swaying, crawling up and down the crevices in the tree bark.
Behind the tree, Lockhart pulled off some burrs that had stuck to his clothes, occasionally peeking out.
After about ten minutes, he saw Garr open the side door of the manor, standing by it and waving him in.
—It looks like an abandoned old house, probably with no one inside.
Lockhart thought, feeling relieved, and walked over quickly.
After both of them entered the estate, the bushes rustled again, and a large black dog, covered in burrs, silently emerged.
He was about to head toward the manor when he suddenly heard voices nearby. Sirius Black immediately crouched down, hiding behind a bush.
"You've done well, Wormtail", a cold voice said. "Offering your two companions to the master is enough to prove your loyalty."
Hearing the name "Wormtail", Sirius bared his teeth involuntarily, his claws digging into the ground, his eyes filled with murderous intent.
He wanted nothing more than to leap out and tear that traitor's throat, but the content of their conversation forced him to hold back.
"Master... Can the master forgive me?" A familiar, trembling, and fearful voice said, "I have always wanted to serve the master, Barty... I didn't know the Potters had such powerful magic back then..."
The black dog crouched in the dark corner, his muscles quivering under his fur, ready to burst into action at any moment. He struggled to keep himself from growling, his eyes burning with a fierce light.
Barty said from above, "Not enough, Wormtail. You know that offering two useless prisoners isn't enough... but if you can help the Dark Lord resurrect, the Dark Lord will not only forgive your mistakes but also grant you unimaginable glory."
"Resurrection?"
Wormtail gasped, his breathing rapid and uneven. After a moment, he asked, "What do I need to do?"
"The Dark Lord needs certain materials, Wormtail, and you can be of help", Barty said.
Wormtail let out a sigh of relief and asked, "Alright, what materials? I can steal them..."
"Not ordinary materials", Barty said. "The Dark Lord needs a bone from the father, flesh from the servant, and blood from the enemy..."
"...Flesh from the servant?" Wormtail's voice was barely audible, his tone pleading, "I, I am willing to offer... Which part of my flesh does the master need?"
"Do you deserve it, Wormtail?" Barty said with disdain. "Do you deserve to have the master use your flesh to resurrect? Hmm? You filthy, despicable creature..."
Wormtail sobbed, unsure whether he felt humiliated or relieved.
"Blood from the enemy, Wormtail. You must offer the master blood from the enemy—Harry Potter!" Barty said, as if granting a favor. "If you fail, you know what punishment awaits you..."
"Harry Potter?" Wormtail said fearfully. "But... Dumbledore has him guarded so tightly..."
"There is a chance, Wormtail..."
Barty's voice suddenly dropped, as if he had cast a silencing charm. The black dog couldn't help but press his body to the ground, ears perked, trying to eavesdrop, but heard nothing.
He waited and waited, and finally, unable to bear it any longer, he silently circled around the bushes and trees, running in the direction of the voices.
But he saw nothing.
No Barty, no Wormtail, not even any sign that two people had been there.
The black dog searched the ground again, finally confirming from some broken grass that people had indeed been there, and those voices were not just his imagination.
He turned his head, his gray eyes fixed on the nearby manor, staring for a long time.
The vampires and Lockhart who had entered the manor had not come out, and there was no sound from inside.
The ordinary Muggle manor seemed to have transformed into a monster that devoured people.
Sirius wanted to dig Wormtail out; he had tracked the rat for so long and had never been this close before.
But thinking about the critical information he had overheard, Sirius ultimately did not rashly rush into the manor. After pacing for a while, he decisively turned and ran into the forest.
He needed to run a sufficient distance before Apparating to deliver the information to Dumbledore.
...
Watching the black dog leave, the figure hanging from the tree, Lockhart, felt a sense of relief, though he didn't need to breathe.
There were no "Wormtail" or "Barty" in the forest. Everything Sirius had heard was a performance by Lockhart, who had deliberately supplied the information.
He was a homunculus, without a scent, heartbeat, or breath. As long as he remained still, Sirius couldn't find him.
But Voldemort had already taken over Riddle Manor, and Lockhart's plan to dig up the bone had been foiled.
—Or had it?
Perched on the tree like an owl, Lockhart stared at the distant manor, replaying the information about the "Future" he had received from his master.
He thought: I need to go back... I need the Cube's help.
(End of Chapter)
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