[Special] A Quiet Day Before the Storm
In the Gryffindor common room, taking advantage of the strange calm of the moment, Harry was sitting at one of the tables, reading quietly and carefully the new spell that had appeared in his magical tome. Unlike when he had used it in the forest during that moment of danger, it now seemed incomplete. Unusable.
Because of that, he had no choice but to slowly learn the only thing that appeared there.
Beside him, Hermione was reading several books about mythology, completely focused, as if she wanted to learn everything she possibly could about the subject.
As for Ron, at some point he had slipped away. He was not very interested in studying like they were, so he had taken the opportunity to go chase his brothers all the way to the Hogwarts kitchens.
“Mmmnnnn…”
Harry slightly lifted his gaze from his magical tome to look at Percy, who was twisting around on one of the sofas not too far away, while seemingly growling like a bored animal. After that, he ignored him again and returned his attention to every word of the spell.
“Nnnngggg…”
Another sound came from his foolish brother, making Harry once again shift his attention toward him. He looked at him for a second and, seeing that he had gone quiet, lowered his gaze back to the tome.
Only for Percy to let out yet another groan.
“Mmmmnn.”
“Can you stop doing that?” Harry said, completely annoyed, snapping his tome shut. The sound startled Percy, making him jump up in surprise.
“What? What’s your problem?” Percy asked with a confused look, not understanding Harry’s sudden outburst.
“You’re being ridiculously annoying,” Harry said, stepping closer with a serious look.
“Well, we can’t leave the castle. That’s kind of boring. We’re stuck inside, and I really wanted to go swimming,” Percy said in his defense.
“And your way of not being bored is to be a nuisance to us?” Harry replied, staring straight at him.
“Well… yeah,” Percy said, smiling in a way that only seemed to annoy Harry even more.
Without thinking too much about it, Harry jumped at his brother, and the two of them began wrestling and pulling at each other on the sofa, while Hermione, who had been trying to read in peace, lifted her head with clear irritation to look at them.
“Could you please be quiet? I’m trying to understand what on earth you were talking about earlier, something you yourselves don’t even understand,” she said in a reproachful, irritated tone.
Harry and Percy immediately stopped, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Instead of wasting time, why don’t you try reading about mythology and find out what you ended up fighting just a few days ago? Doesn’t that interest you at all, or what?” Hermione continued, her gaze growing harsher by the second.
“Uh… well…”
“Don’t start with that again,” Hermione said, as if she were about to jump on both of them and beat them up.
Percy reacted instantly. He ducked behind Harry, pushing him forward.
“You explain. I’ll go find Neville so I don’t die of boredom,” he said, before getting up and running off at full speed.
Harry simply watched Percy escape without hesitation, shook his head, and then turned his attention back to Hermione.
“It’s because we don’t need to learn something we already know,” Harry said calmly.
Hermione looked somewhat confused.
“Our mom, ever since we were little, always told us stories about Greek mythology. The gods, their children, the Titans, the Titanomachy, the punishments. And even if we don’t know every monster that exists, we do know the history,” he added.
“Now that I think about it, maybe she was preparing us the whole time.”
Harry paused, thinking about it.
It wasn’t something that bothered him; if anything, it made him feel slightly happier. Knowing that his mother had always been preparing them for this moment, surely without being able to tell them anything so as not to put them in danger, made many things start to make sense now.
From how hard she kept working even after they entered the magical world, to the fact that she never seemed to rest, whether it was in her work as a witch or in her new role with the Knights.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“If you know the history, then why aren’t you trying to find out who your… well, relatives might be?” Hermione asked, looking at him.
“Because Aunt Mor said we still can’t know, or we’ll be in danger. And seeing that you were almost in danger yourself just for knowing what we are, we realized we can wait a little longer,” Harry said with a slight smile.
“We don’t want to put you in danger again. Neither Percy nor I,” he added.
Hermione’s eyes widened, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.
“So you’re holding back from learning about your roots just so you don’t put me in danger?” she asked.
“Of course. We’d never put our friends in danger,” Harry replied.
Hermione looked at him in silence for a moment before turning away. She began gathering all the books on mythology that were on the table, stacking them in her arms, and hurried off toward the girls’ dormitory. However, she stopped for a brief moment on the stairs.
“Then I’ll learn everything I can. That way you can ask me for help when you need it,” she said, before disappearing upstairs at a quick pace.
For a moment, Harry noticed that Hermione’s face was much redder than before, even all the way to her ears, which confused him slightly, leaving him completely alone in the common room.
Or so he thought.
“Knight tactic number fifteen. Always speak with a gentle, charming smile.”
Harry turned around at the sound and saw Percy peeking out slightly from the entrance, nodding in approval, giving him two thumbs up.
“And here I thought you didn’t like Luther and Arthur’s knight classes,” Percy said, before slowly disappearing without lowering either thumb.
“Did I do that?” Harry murmured, touching the corners of his mouth with his fingers, lifting and lowering them.
“Haaa… Professor Gema said I shouldn’t pay attention to those silly things or I’d end up very badly in the future with girls, though I don’t really know what she meant,” he added with a sigh.
Then he picked up his magical tome, casting a quick glance at the book Hermione had forgotten on the table.
“The Theory of the Existence of Magic and Mythology,” the title read.
On its cover were several drawings of runes from different mythologies: Greek, Norse, Roman, and Egyptian. It caught Harry’s attention slightly, but even so, he didn’t seem particularly interested in opening it. He turned around and left to follow Percy, making sure he didn’t get into trouble.
After all, when he was bored, that was when he became the most dangerous.
…
Meanwhile, in the Veil’s Lair.
Gema stepped out of Vincent’s office and let out a sigh, clearly exhausted. Her gaze dropped to her right arm, which was still completely wrapped in bandages. It trembled slightly when she clenched her fist, as if she did not have enough strength to close her hand all the way.
She sighed again, this time with a hint of sadness, before slipping her free hand into one of her pockets and pulling out a rather strange card. She examined it closely. On it was a drawing of a cartoonish minotaur, wearing underwear.
Every time she looked at that figure, a memory began to take shape in her mind.
A huge man following her.
Shifting forms: a violent addict, a bodybuilder, a murderer, a massive black bull.
And in the end, the same figure represented in that drawing, though far more violent than the simple, childish sketch suggested.
That made her bring a hand to her forehead for a moment, as if her mind struggled to process everything.
Still, her years as a knight, fighting magical creatures that a muggle was never supposed to see, seemed to help her make sense of what had happened. Gema took a deep breath, slowly regaining control of her thoughts, before walking away down the corridor with heavy steps.
Meanwhile, inside the office, the old man Vincent was seated behind his desk, wearing a relatively serious and visibly irritated expression. Lying in front of him was the file detailing what had happened to Gema in the United States, the report she herself had submitted.
Adrien was standing not far away, wearing the same serious look, while Dorien sat across from the old man, lost in thoughtful silence.
“It’s fine to give her some rest, but I don’t think she’s very happy about it,” Adrien said, glancing toward the door Gema had exited through.
“Yes. I’m sure of that. But for now, she wouldn’t be able to lift even a dagger with that hand for at least another month,” Vincent replied, lightly pressing his fingers against his brow.
“It’s better for her to stay in the Veil and get some rest.”
“When will you give the order to go after that thing?” Dorien asked in a cold tone.
Vincent stared him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, in silence. He knew that anger well. One of his friends had been hurt, and that alone was more than enough to make someone crave revenge.
“Even though I’d like to go myself, we don’t even know if it will still be in the same place. We don’t even know what it is,” Vincent said, shaking his head.
“A shapeshifter, a minotaur… not even Gema understands what attacked her. She only noticed it once the attack had already begun. Who do you think you are, that you could even see it?”
He let out a tired sigh.
“Besides, I’m certain there’s someone else who wants far more than you to turn into pulp the one who dared to attack his granddaughter,” Vincent added, as if he were already anticipating the coming annoyance.
And the worst part was that it seemed to have arrived faster than he expected.
At that moment, someone burst into the office without knocking, moving quickly and wearing a serious expression, as if there were no time for manners.
It was Arthur. He looked like he had run all the way there.
“Sorry for the interruption, but I think this is important. Lady Elara Ravenshield, Guardian of the Realm, member of the Council of Three—”
“I told you to stop with those long introductions. There’s no need to be so formal,” a voice interrupted from behind Arthur.
A woman then entered the office with calm, measured steps. Her white hair fell in cascading strands, though it did not seem to be gray; it was so smooth and bright that it appeared to be her natural color, almost dancing under the light.
She was a middle-aged woman, but her straight, military posture, along with a body that, while not muscular, looked completely fit even beneath her civilian clothing, made it clear that she was still a warrior. At her waist hung a silver sword, a rapier, which lightly clinked with each step she took.
Her face, though faintly marked by age, still carried the beauty of someone for whom entire kingdoms might once have gone to war. And that beauty was still unmistakable.
“And here she is,” Vincent muttered, rubbing his temple with a slight headache.
She shared with him and one other one of the highest ranks in the entire Order, not only because of seniority, but because of power and experience.
Just as Arthur had begun to present her.
Elara Ravenshield.
Guardian of the Realm.
Captain of the Silver Guard.
The order responsible for protecting the borders of the Realm against external threats, both magical and non-magical.
