Harry stood on the high balcony of Slytherin Castle, his hands resting lightly on the cold stone railing, as the sky beyond the forest came alive with motion.
The Morticorns were flying.
Dark shapes cut across the pale blue sky, wings spreading wide as they rode the currents above the castle grounds. Their black coats gleamed under the sunlight, horns catching flashes of gold as they banked and turned. For creatures once driven mad by confinement and hunger, they now moved with an effortless grace—free, powerful, and finally at peace.
Ever since the restriction collars had been fitted and the ward-stone activated, the change had been immediate. The aggression that once simmered beneath the Morticorns' hides had drained away, replaced by something calmer, almost proud. They no longer paced the ground or lashed out at shadows. They stretched their wings, tested the invisible boundary, and then—one by one—took to the air.
It was beautiful.
Below, in the open clearing behind the castle, the younger Morticorns chased one another in clumsy spirals, their wings still awkward but eager. The adults flew higher, wider, their movements confident and controlled, guardians of the sky they had been denied for far too long.
Then a sharp, joyous shout cut through the air.
Harry's lips curved upward despite himself.
Cody was riding.
High above the treetops, an enormous adult Morticorn swept past the balcony, wings beating steadily as it carried its rider without strain. Cody clung to the thick mane at the creature's neck, laughter echoing across the grounds as he whooped like a child who had just discovered flying for the first time.
"This is incredible!" Cody shouted, his voice carried by the wind. "Look at them! They're obeying—Master Harry, they're listening!"
As if in answer, the Morticorn beneath him let out a deep, resonant call—not a screech but something almost musical. The other Morticorns responded in kind, their voices weaving together into a haunting chorus that rolled across the forest.
House-elves gathered below, staring upward in awe, some shielding their eyes, others clapping their hands in delight. Even the dragon, resting near its cave, lifted its massive head and watched the airborne creatures with quiet, ancient interest.
Shadow, curled at Harry's feet, gave a soft bark and wagged his tail, eyes fixed on the sky as if memorizing every movement.
Harry crouched and scratched behind the Grim pup's ears, smiling faintly.
"They just needed space," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Freedom."
The Morticorns wheeled again, sunlight breaking through their wings, and for the first time since rescuing them from the dungeon, Harry felt certain he had made the right choice.
The fireplace inside Slytherin Castle flared to life without warning, emerald flames spiraling upward in a familiar whirl of Floo magic.
Harry turned to see Sam stumble out of the hearth, boots skidding slightly against the stone floor as he regained his balance. He wasn't carrying supplies, or paperwork like usual.
He was carrying a camera.
Before Harry could even ask a question, Sam had already sprinted toward the open balcony, nearly tripping over a startled house-elf as he passed. The moment he saw the sky beyond the castle, his eyes widened in something close to religious awe.
"Oh Merlin's beard…" Sam breathed.
The Morticorns were still airborne.
Black wings arced through the sky, horns flashing gold as sunlight struck them at the right angles. One of the larger adults passed overhead, its tail streaming behind it like a dark banner, each feather catching the wind.
Sam raised the camera and began clicking furiously.
Flash after flash.
Angle after angle.
"Sam?" Harry called, blinking. "What are you doing?"
Sam didn't even look back. He adjusted the lens, zoomed in on a banking Morticorn, and snapped several more shots before finally lowering the camera, grinning like a man who had just struck gold.
"Because," he said breathlessly, "no one bloody believes me."
Harry stepped closer, Shadow padding along at his side. "Believes you about what?"
Sam turned at last, eyes shining with excitement as he gestured wildly toward the sky.
"The tail hairs," he said. "The Morticorn tail hairs I've been selling."
Harry froze. "…You've been selling those?"
"Small quantities," Sam said quickly. "Very small. Ethically sourced. Shed feathers only. I'm not insane."
That, at least, was reassuring.
Sam continued, voice dropping into the tone of a shopkeeper explaining his finest wares.
"When I first put them up at Keller's Curio, I told people the truth—that they came from a newly documented magical creature called a Morticorn. Nobody believed me. They thought it was marketing nonsense. Exotic branding."
He scoffed, shaking his head.
"So I let the magic speak for itself."
Harry frowned slightly. "What do they do?"
Sam's grin widened.
"They're absurd," he said. "Tail hair from a Morticorn contains more raw magical potential than dragon heartstring and unicorn tail hair combined."
Harry stiffened.
That was… not a small claim.
Sam nodded fervently, warming to the subject. "I tested it. Can be used for wand cores, ritual catalysts, enchantment amplifiers—everything. The resonance is unreal. It stabilizes volatile magic, strengthens structured spells, and enhances ritual arrays without causing backlash."
He lifted the camera again and snapped another shot as a Morticorn swooped lower, wings casting a massive shadow over the castle grounds.
"And because no one's ever seen one before," Sam went on, "they think I'm lying. They think I bred some knockoff material or enchanted ordinary hair."
He glanced back at Harry, eyes sharp now, calculating.
"But this?" He waved the camera at the sky. "This is proof. Living, flying, undeniable proof."
Harry watched the Morticorns circle freely, Cody's laughter echoing faintly as he rode past again.
"And once people see these photos," Sam said quietly, "the value triples. Maybe more."
Harry was silent for a moment.
Then he sighed.
"Just… don't turn them into commodities," he said finally. "They're not ingredients first. They're living beings."
Sam's expression softened, losing its merchant's edge.
"I know," he said. "That's why I waited until they were free. And why I never took more than what they shed naturally."
He lowered the camera, looking almost reverent now.
"This isn't exploitation," Sam added. "This is the world learning they exist."
Above them, the Morticorns cried out again, wings slicing through the sky as they danced along the invisible boundary of their freedom.
For a while, everything moved with an ease that felt almost unreal.
The castle was alive in a quiet, content way—house-elves humming as they worked, the Morticorns circling lazily through the sky, Shadow darting through corridors like a living shadow at Harry's heels. There were no alarms, no urgent meetings that demanded Lord Blackfyre's presence.
Things were… smooth.
It was during one of those calm afternoons that Sam finally brought it up.
He approached Harry carefully, as if testing the ground before stepping forward, hands tucked into his coat pockets. They were standing near the edge of the training grounds, watching Cody coax one of the younger Morticorns into a controlled glide.
"Harry," Sam began, tone casual but deliberate, "I wanted to ask you something."
Harry didn't look away from the sky. "Go on."
"There's someone," Sam said. "A scholar. Not Ministry. He's got a master's degree in Magical Creature Studies and he's been trying to document newly discovered species for years."
Harry finally turned to face him.
"No."
The word wasn't loud. It wasn't angry.
It was absolute.
Sam paused, then nodded slowly. "I figured that might be your answer."
Harry exhaled, rubbing a thumb along Shadow's ear as the pup leaned against his leg.
"This castle isn't a zoo," Harry said quietly. "And the Morticorns aren't exhibits. Anyone who steps inside here learns too much—about the creatures, about the wards, about me."
He glanced toward the forest, where the dragon's territory began.
"I didn't build this place to turn it into a spectacle."
Sam studied him for a moment, then gave a small, respectful smile. "Fair enough. I won't push."
And he didn't.
The matter ended there—cleanly, without resentment.
Later that day, Harry's attention was drawn elsewhere.
Cody stood in the center of the open grounds, sleeves rolled up, face alight with barely contained excitement. Behind him hovered a newly constructed magical wagon, its frame reinforced with runes, its wheels hovering just inches above the grass.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
Cody turned, grinning. "An experiment."
That was never a reassuring word.
Before Harry could comment, Cody whistled sharply. Two adult Morticorns banked mid-air and descended, landing with controlled precision. Their wings folded neatly at their sides, hooves striking the ground with a soft metallic ring.
"Same principle as the Thestral wagons," Cody explained, already moving to attach the enchanted harness. "They're smarter, faster, and a hell of a lot stronger. Took to the training quicker than I expected."
Harry watched, intrigued despite himself.
"You're thinking transport," Harry said.
Cody laughed. "I'm thinking style."
With practiced ease, Cody climbed onto the wagon, gave a short command, and the Morticorns leapt forward—wings snapping open as they lifted the entire construct smoothly into the air.
The wagon rose, steady and controlled, gliding over the castle grounds like it had always belonged there.
Harry felt something warm settle in his chest.
A flying wagon drawn by Morticorns.
Just… freedom.
"That," Harry murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips, "is incredibly cool."
Cody whooped from above, banking the wagon in a wide arc.
The peace ended without warning.
It happened at Zeus Hotel.
A foreign wizard had arrived two days earlier, using routes that never touched the Ministry's ledgers. No portkey registered. He had paid in advance, in old gold stamped with continental sigils, and requested privacy.
Ritual work.
That alone was not unusual anymore—not with Grandpa Theo's presence legitimizing the practice—but the man had been careful, nervous even. Harry remembered seeing him once in the lobby: tall, pale, dark-haired, with the posture of someone who expected knives in his back.
Now he was dead.
The body was found early in the morning by a house-elf delivering breakfast. No signs of struggle spilling into the corridor. Just a locked room and a man who would never leave it.
Harry stood in the hallway outside the sealed door, hands clasped behind his back, his face unreadable.
Cold.
That was the word that came to him.
Not anger. Not disappointment.
Cold calculation.
Because this wasn't an accident. And it wasn't business as usual.
"This wasn't ritual backlash," Cassandra said quietly, standing beside him. She was already in work mode, her eyes sharp, her wand absent from her hand on purpose. "If it were, the room would look… worse."
Harry nodded. He had already checked.
"This was murder," Harry said flatly.
Cassandra met his gaze. "And whoever did it knew what they were doing."
That made it worse.
No guest had left the hotel since his arrival.
Which meant—
"He's still here," Harry said.
A familiar sensation rippled through him.
A notification shimmered briefly at the edge of his vision.
[Quest Triggered: Blood Beneath Silk Sheets]
Type: Major Investigation Quest
Difficulty: High
Status: Active
Objectives:
Identify the cause of death
Investigate the victim's background
Locate the murderer within Zeus Hotel
Resolve the incident without Ministry interference
Failure Condition:
Auror involvement
Evidence leak to external factions
Rewards:
2000 EXP
Investigation Skill
Reputation Increase (Serpent Court / Underworld)
Hidden Rewards (Condition-Based)
Harry dismissed it instantly.
He didn't need the system to tell him what was at stake.
"You need aurors?" Cassandra asked quietly.
Harry shook his head without hesitation. "No."
She didn't argue.
The man had arrived illegally. Reporting this would bring questions Harry didn't want answered—about ritual work, about Gothic Alley, about why foreign wizards trusted Zeus Hotel more than their own governments.
And worse—
Aurors would tear the place apart.
"I'll teach you how we do this," Cassandra said after a moment. "Properly. Quietly. Like an Auror should."
Harry glanced at her. "Even though I'm not one?"
She gave a thin smile. "Especially because you're not one."
They stepped into the room together.
The body lay on the bed, eyes open, expression frozen somewhere between shock and resignation. No blood pooled beneath him. No visible wounds. No shattered furniture.
Clean.
Too clean.
Harry activated [Observe] subtly, keeping his posture casual in case anyone was watching through wards.
Nothing obvious surfaced.
Which meant the killer was careful.
Very careful.
"First rule," Cassandra said softly, circling the room. "Ignore what you expect to see. Look for what doesn't belong."
Harry followed her lead.
A glass by the bedside—empty, faint residue clinging to the rim.
A wand placed neatly on the nightstand, untouched.
A faint magical disturbance near the window… not from entry, but from suppression.
Someone had silenced something.
A spell. A scream. Or a life.
Harry's jaw tightened.
"This wasn't personal," he said quietly.
"And calculated," Cassandra agreed. "Whoever did this didn't panic. Didn't rush. They knew the hotel layout."
Harry straightened slowly.
"And they're still sleeping under my roof."
The thought angered him.
Outside the room, the hotel continued as normal—guests eating breakfast, staff moving through halls, laughter drifting up from the lobby.
No one knew.
Yet.
Harry looked down the corridor, eyes calm, mind already assembling possibilities.
Peace, he realized, was never meant to last.
And whoever had broken it had just made the worst possible mistake.
They had committed murder…
Inside his domain.
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