"What on earth is this?" Old Mr. Den, dressed in a suit, snatched the small piece of paper from Ron's hand. He stared at it for a long time, clearly not understanding what it meant.
"'One dies… another receives enlightenment'… What does 'enlightenment' mean?" Young Den asked in confusion. "Is it some kind of code?"
"I… I don't know…" Miss Beatrice sobbed beside her sister's corpse. "It must've been him—he definitely did something when he came into her room last night! He left mine around midnight and went straight to hers—"
"You saying he's… poisonous?" Cohen tilted his head and looked at her.
"I'm not poisonous," said Mr. Raven calmly.
"Act normal for once!" Edward growled under his breath, pulling Cohen back from the bedside.
"Are you defending this waiter?" Old Den looked at Cohen suspiciously. "Are you involved in this woman's death too? Why aren't you scared—"
"My son's got nothing to do with this!" Edward immediately jumped to Cohen's defense. "Just because someone's not afraid doesn't mean they're guilty—don't go around accusing people without proof—"
"Watch how you talk to my dad!" Young Den snapped at Edward, eyes blazing. "Where's your manners?"
"Manners?" Cohen scoffed. "Your dad's the one who started accusing people without evidence. That's what we call barking up the wrong tree. Look, it's not your fault he's got issues, but letting him run around pointing fingers? That's on you."
"Then explain this: why are you alone at some remote inn?" Old Den ignored the shouting and narrowed his eyes at Cohen. "And your friends—ever since they showed up, the boat sank, and all the comms went out—"
"We didn't do anything!" Harry said anxiously, desperate to clear their names.
"Shouldn't we be focusing on Miss Beatrice's cause of death right now?" Hermione's voice trembled, but she spoke louder. "We're trapped on this island, and there's clearly a murderer among us! If we keep accusing each other without reason, we're going to get picked off one by one!"
"You sound awfully familiar with how the murderer's plan will unfold, child," Old Den said darkly, making Hermione instinctively step back.
"Instead of worrying about whether the killer's a child, maybe you should worry about whether it's you during one of your episodes," Edward said angrily.
Old Den opened his mouth to reply, but a cold chill suddenly crept through him—like he'd just been shoved into a freezer.
It felt like all the joy in the world had drained away.
"Dad? Dad?" Young Den rushed to steady him. "What's wrong?"
"Do you smell that?" Ron sniffed the air. "It's like…"
"Blood," Harry said, breathing heavily and reaching for the wand in his back pocket.
"It's coming from the body," Edward said, eyes narrowed.
Blood was slowly seeping out from underneath the bed, spreading in a dark red pool.
Beatrice sobbed even harder at the sight of her sister's corpse.
Behind her body, a gaping, grotesque wound was revealed.
"Well, looks like you really aren't poisonous after all," Cohen said with a sigh to Mr. Raven.
He'd thought the man might be similar to himself—filled with a liquid curse. But if it had been that kind of curse, both Beatrices would have died, and their bodies wouldn't have been so intact.
"Why do you sound disappointed?" Harry asked, horrified.
At this point, Mr. Raven seemed the most likely suspect.
Strangely, though, under the increasingly demanding pressure from Old Den, Young Den, and Miss Beatrice, Mr. Raven offered no resistance when they suggested locking him in a small room.
"I understand your suspicions," he said calmly, letting Young Den tie his hands with rope. "But you'll soon see I'm not the killer."
"We'll see about that," Old Den snapped.
"Bloody creepy," Young Den muttered. "I just wanted to take my dad on a holiday…"
Miss Beatrice continued weeping for her sister.
Cohen narrowed his eyes, studying the woman carefully.
Something was off—
"Back to the room. I've got an idea…"
Cohen led Edward, Harry, and the others back to Room 207.
The Chimera had returned and was gnawing on a crocodile carcass sprawled out on the floor.
"Ugh…" Harry winced. "Do we really have to tear it open on the bed…?"
"Crocodile skin's hard to digest, kid," said the goat. "The lion likes a soft spot to curl up. I'll clean it up later."
"What idea?" Edward asked, more focused on what Cohen had mentioned earlier. "A Muggle's dead—whatever's going on here, we're going to get questioned by the Ministry… but I can get someone to erase your trail, so you won't have to explain skipping school."
"The blood only soaked through the bedsheets once we got there," Cohen said bluntly. "The timing of death is suspicious. I'm not saying Raven's innocent, but these Muggles aren't exactly innocent either."
"You think a Muggle killed Miss Beatrice?" Harry asked. "That would explain why the old man suddenly started suspecting everyone…"
"But behind all this, I'm sure the Silver Key's involved," Cohen said. "The Muggles may have just been pawns. But one thing's clear—locking up Mr. Raven won't stop the killings. Someone else will die. Today."
"'One dies, another receives enlightenment,'" Hermione murmured. "Sounds alchemical… Cohen, have you heard anything like that from Nicolas Flamel?"
"Nicolas? No, he wouldn't mention something like this," Cohen said, twitching his mouth. "This is tied to a rumored version of the Elixir of Life—it's split into two doses. Two beings drink it, one dies, and the other becomes immortal. The Philosopher's Stone achieves immortality without that kind of mystical nonsense."
"But Beatrice was murdered," Harry said, confused. "If it was a potion, she wouldn't have a huge wound on her back, would she?"
"Wait a sec…" Hermione checked the clock, then muttered some numbers under her breath. "Midnight… Seven-thirty… Eight hours…"
"I've got it!" she gasped, her eyes darting between Harry and Cohen before landing on Cohen. "Cohen, come with me. I have an idea—"
"What is it?" Harry asked. "Where are you going?"
"Let me handle the dangerous stuff," Edward said seriously. "You're still kids, and this place is nowhere near as safe as Hogwarts—"
"Not necessarily," Cohen muttered. "At least there are no basilisks, werewolves, or Voldemort here…"
"There's a way we can find out who the killer really is," Hermione said. "We just need to go to the room next door. Two minutes. We'll be right back."
"Then we'll go with you!" Ron said worriedly. "You said it yourself—splitting up is dangerous."
"Too many people won't work," Hermione replied. "Harry, can I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?"
"Of course." Harry clearly wanted to go too. "But—"
"You're coming with us," Cohen said, pulling Harry along.
"What about me?!" Ron said, eyes wide.
"Ron, I really can't… You know it's only for two minutes—" Hermione tried to explain.
"Got it," Ron said stiffly. "Go ahead."
"I'm sorry…" Hermione said, looking torn.
"Keep my dad safe," Cohen said to Ron. "Next time, I promise—"
"I'm the only adult wizard in this room, by the way…" Edward muttered.
"It's okay. Age doesn't matter," Cohen said, patting Edward's belly. "You're just past your adventuring years."
Cohen, Harry, and Hermione slipped out of the room and into Room 208, the one Harry had originally booked but never stayed in.
Hermione took a deep breath and pulled a thin golden chain from beneath her collar. Hanging on it was a small, rotating hourglass.
"This is a Time-Turner," she said nervously. "We can use it to go back—up to twelve hours."
"You mean we can return to the time of Miss Beatrice's murder?" Harry said, stunned. "But… where did you get it?"
Cohen stared at it. A Time-Turner—one of the most incredible magical objects in the world of Harry Potter.
Time, being manipulated by magic—just one Hour-Reversal Charm fixed on an hourglass, and a witch or wizard could travel back to the real, changeable past.
Cohen had always wanted to borrow it to study, but had never found a convincing reason—until now.
"I got it from Professor McGonagall when we returned to school," Hermione explained. "It's how I managed to take every class this year. She made me swear not to tell anyone. She even wrote letters to the Ministry vouching for me—that I'd only ever use it for academic purposes..."
"We can save her," Harry said, full of hope. "And stop the Silver Key's plan—they're clearly using Muggle lives to buy their own immortality…"
"Don't get too excited!" Hermione warned. "If we go back in time, no one can see us—not even our past selves!"
"We'll use the Invisibility Cloak," Harry said. "Hermione, this is brilliant."
"We're heading to Beatrice's room, right?" Cohen said, bracing himself. "You two might want to be mentally prepared..."
"For what?" Harry asked, confused.
"She… um…" Hermione hesitated. "Harry, didn't you hear the argument between the two Beatrices and Mr. Raven? They… asked for some special services..."
"You'll find out eventually anyway," Cohen said, shaking his head. "Think of it as advanced learning. Honestly, I saw something similar back at Kumburg—though I didn't catch the whole thing—"
"Just make sure we aren't seen," Hermione reminded them. "Let's do this quickly. If we wait too long, we'll have to go back even further. Professor McGonagall warned me—the further back you go, the more dangerous it gets…"
"Let's just start," Cohen said.
Hermione unfastened the chain. The three of them huddled close, enclosed within its loop.
"One, two, three…" Hermione carefully turned the hourglass eight times.
The room around them blurred and shifted rapidly, colors and shapes flying past like a videotape rewinding at high speed—
When the spinning stopped, they stood firmly in the darkened room.
"Lumos," Hermione whispered, lighting her wand. She glanced at the room's clock. "It's eleven-thirty. We have half an hour."
"Now this is thrilling," Cohen said, clearly intrigued. "I'm curious to see just how 'fit' Mr. Raven is, based on what the sisters said."
"Invisibility Cloak on—whatever you do, don't let anyone see you. Especially not… you," Hermione warned.
"No chance of that," Harry said. "We were in our room the whole night—right, Cohen?"
"Same here. I went to bed by midnight," Cohen replied.
They threw on the Invisibility Cloak and cautiously left Room 208.
The hallway was empty, lights still glowing. The room numbers reflected light as they passed.
As they passed Room 204, they could hear faint panting sounds—clearly, Miss Beatrice had been having a good time before her sister's death.
"This one…" Hermione whispered.
They stopped in front of Room 203.
Cohen reached out and turned the handle—it wasn't locked. Probably left open so Mr. Raven could come in easily.
"Feels like the story's about to get very adult from here on," Cohen muttered.
"Oh, you're here already~" Miss Beatrice's sultry voice called from inside the room, mistaking the opening door for Mr. Raven.
The strong perfume in the air made it hard to breathe. Harry shuddered.
They slipped in silently—Miss Beatrice, seeing the door open but no one entering, pouted and got up to close it, dragging her half-dressed self across the floor in slippers.
Meanwhile, the trio crouched down in a corner.
All they had to do now was wait—whoever the killer was, they were bound to show up.
Before long, the door opened again.
This time, it wasn't the wind. It was Mr. Raven—wearing a black suit, his tie and buttons slightly askew.