The Gringotts crisis had finally subsided. By July 20th, the bank had resumed normal operations, with the goblins having paid a massive sum to cover the incident. Urs, the goblin leader, had even been released on bail by the Department of Mysteries. On the surface, it seemed as if the whole affair was concluded.
Hull, an industrial city in the northeast of England, had once been a powerhouse of shipbuilding, automotive, steel, and energy production. But like many such places, the relentless encroachment of financial capital on manufacturing had turned it into a rust belt, a shadow of its former glory.
Aiden, disguised in a simple black and white striped shirt, its collar casually open to reveal the subtle curve of his collarbone, fitted jeans, and white sneakers, strolled through Hull's desolate streets. He used a touch of magic to conceal his dragon horns, blending in with the grim reality around him.
The city teemed with the tell-tale signs of decline: addicts slumped in doorways, homeless individuals scattered across the pavements, their desperation a palpable stench in the air.
As Aiden prepared to continue his journey, a gaunt, desperate figure lunged from the shadows, a glint of metal at his throat.
"Money… give me your money," the addict stammered, his hand trembling as he pressed the knife closer.
Aiden calmly met his gaze. In the addict's dilated pupils, a pair of beautiful heterochromatic eyes stared back.
"Eek!" the man shrieked, collapsing onto the grimy pavement.
Aiden recoiled from the foul odor emanating from the man. A look of profound disgust crossed his face. His form shimmered, dissolving into a swarm of butterflies that scattered into the air, leaving only the confused addict wondering why he had fallen.
Using his Patronus form to traverse the labyrinthine streets, Aiden continued his search for the escaped cult leader. He was here because Oliver had practically begged him to help, and Aiden, surprisingly, hadn't been able to refuse.
Just as he was about to leave the neighborhood, a familiar face came into view. Aiden instantly materialized from nothingness, appearing silently behind the person. He grabbed him firmly and pulled him into a spatial blind spot, a small pocket of awareness shielded from the outside world.
"Ha!" Aiden let out a soft, eerie sound.
"Ah!" The person he'd grabbed yelped, instinctively pulling out his wand and spinning around.
"Aiden?"
The shadows dissipated, revealing Ethan, his eyes wide with surprise.
"What are you doing here?" Ethan asked, still looking shocked.
"Do you know about the Kingsport incident?" Aiden countered.
"Uh, Edmund mentioned it. Something about a cult sacrifice?" Ethan paused, a sudden realization dawning on his face. "Are you saying the cult is nearby?"
"Very close," Aiden confirmed, carefully choosing his words. "The Ministry launched a raid, but their leader escaped. Now everyone's hunting him down." He then shifted the topic. "Since you live here, do you know anything about the local cults or strange religious groups?"
A complicated expression crossed Ethan's face. "Sigh. Come with me. Let's go to my place first."
Ethan led Aiden through several blocks until they arrived at an unassuming small house. He pushed open the door and called out, "Mom! I met a classmate on the street and brought him over!"
A clatter of tableware came from the kitchen. Moments later, a kind-faced woman appeared.
"Oh, Ethan, honey, is this your classmate? He's so charming!" Mrs. Beckett extended her hand to Aiden. "Hello, I'm Rennie Beckett, Ethan's mother."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Beckett," Aiden replied, offering a polite, ancient wizarding bow.
"My, my, your classmate seems to come from a very distinguished background," Rennie teased Ethan.
"Stay at my house tonight, Aiden," Ethan suggested. "You can ask my father about anything you want to know."
Aiden, who found himself without a clear lead, agreed to the offer.
Just then, the air shimmered, and Oliver, clad in a hooded black and gold robe, materialized beside Aiden.
"Aiden, who's this?" Ethan asked, frowning at the hooded figure. The face under the hood seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it.
"This is an Unspeakable," Aiden introduced. "Our mission originated from the Department of Mysteries."
"What? The Department of Mysteries?" Rennie's interest was instantly piqued. She walked over to Oliver, scrutinizing him, but could discern nothing.
She sighed in mild disappointment. "Does the Department of Mysteries recruit such young people now?"
"Not at all, madam," Oliver replied mysteriously. "The Department of Mysteries recruits based solely on suitability, nothing else."
"Well, alright, one more won't hurt," Rennie said cheerfully. "It's not every day I host an Unspeakable." Ethan's mother was clearly a very welcoming person.
That evening, Ethan's father, Bowen, arrived home to find two unfamiliar young men sitting on his sofa.
"Rennie, dear?" he called out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe.
"What is it, Bowen? I told you not to be alarmed at home!" Rennie emerged from another room. Seeing her husband shrinking against the wall in fear, she burst out laughing.
"Oh, Bowen, honestly, there aren't so many dangerous wizards around these days." She went up and gave her husband a warm kiss, completely disregarding the three young wizards present.
Aiden cast a teasing glance at Ethan, who lowered his head, blushing furiously.
At dinner, Mr. Bowen, still wary of Oliver's presence as an Unspeakable, directed most of his questions to Aiden.
"So, tell me, my boy, what's a wizard's life really like? Do you fly to school on magic carpets every day?"
Aiden, after confirming to himself that this man's tone genuinely mirrored his kind, if somewhat eccentric, uncle's, nodded. "There was a time when flying carpets were quite popular, but the Ministry of Magic banned them. Said they were unsafe."
"Oh, that's a shame! I always dreamed of riding a magic carpet to school," Bowen Beckett laughed heartily.
"Mr. Beckett," Aiden said, his expression turning serious. "We have some questions for you."
"Oh, alright, ask away." Bowen picked up a sandwich and took a large bite.
"Are there any… cults around here?" Aiden inquired.
Bowen choked on his sandwich. "Cough, cough! A cult, you say?"
"Yes," Aiden continued, a mix of truth and careful deception in his words. "A group of dangerous individuals, connected to the wizarding world, have formed a cult and are now operating in this area." He subtly used his ability to gauge Bowen's reactions.
"If you're talking about anything newly arrived, probably not much," Mr. Bowen mused, recalling for a moment. "But about two years ago, there was this wave of anti-intellectualism that just… swept through the place."
"Anti-intellectualism?" Aiden felt a prickle of unease.
"Yes, you see—oh, sorry, you're a wizard, you wouldn't know—it's like this: we're a rust belt city, lots of unemployment after the factories closed…"
Bowen seemed ready to launch into a lengthy explanation, but Aiden cut him off.
"No need to explain that part, Mr. Bowen. I'm quite familiar with Muggle economics. I understand the situation." Aiden adjusted his monocle, radiating the aura of a diligent scholar.
Mr. Bowen, somewhat overwhelmed by the sudden academic air, clicked his tongue softly and continued, "In short, there are plenty of addicts, homeless people, and criminals here. A cult could easily manipulate them by just offering food. They could build a massive following."
"Do you know where their base might be?" Aiden pressed.
"Well, probably in the northern suburbs," Mr. Bowen mused, stroking his chin. "Around Pearson Park, I'd guess."
Oliver suddenly stood up and walked swiftly out the door.
"Uh, what's wrong with him?" Mr. Bowen asked, puzzled.
"Oh, an emergency at home," Aiden replied smoothly, standing up as well. "Well, you two enjoy your dinner. I need to go keep an eye on him. And please, be sure to stay home for the next two days. Don't go anywhere." Aiden's instruction was earnest, his gaze unwavering.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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