Dark Wings Over Hogwarts

The crisp autumn air greeted Zane as he stepped out of JFK Airport. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the city. A glance at his watch told him it was already 4 PM. Time was ticking.

He had one goal—find James' house.

But there was a problem.

Zane only knew a few things about James—he was once a ranger, and he had saved Zane's life long ago. Until today's news report, Zane hadn't known that James had later become an NYPD officer. That meant his best lead was the NYPD itself.

Flagging down a yellow taxi, Zane got inside and spoke in a neutral tone.

"Take me to the nearest NYPD station."

The driver nodded and pulled onto the bustling New York streets. The city was alive with noise—honking cars, distant sirens, and the rhythmic hum of conversations from pedestrians. Zane leaned back against the seat, his mind racing with thoughts.

James' attack on the London Embassy was reckless—completely out of character. James Miller wasn't reckless. He wasn't impulsive. Something—or someone—had pushed him over the edge.

But what?

Within twenty minutes, the taxi pulled up outside an NYPD station. It was a large, gray-bricked building with officers moving in and out, their faces tense. The entire department was on high alert—understandable, given that one of their own had launched an attack on a foreign embassy.

Zane paid the driver and stepped out, adjusting his coat. Taking a deep breath, he walked through the glass doors, immediately noticing the chaos inside.

Phones were ringing off the hook. Officers rushed back and forth, files in hand. Discussions about James filled the air.

"Any updates on the embassy attack?"

"Feds are getting involved now."

"Why would James do this? It doesn't make sense."

Zane's eyes scanned the room, searching for the right person to approach. A middle-aged officer, seemingly about to leave, caught his attention. The man looked tired but not too busy—perfect.

Zane walked up to him with a polite smile.

"Excuse me, Officer. I'm a journalist looking for details on the James Miller case. Could I have five minutes of your time?"

The officer sighed. "I really don't have time for interviews—"

Zane leaned in slightly. "I understand, but I think the public deserves to know the truth. I'll buy you a coffee—just five minutes, that's all I ask."

The officer hesitated before giving a reluctant nod. "Fine. Five minutes. Name's Officer Daniels, by the way."

Zane extended a hand. "Much appreciated, Officer Daniels. Name's Ryan Carter."

The name was fake, of course.

---

The Café Conversation

A few minutes later, they were sitting in a quiet corner of a nearby café. Zane placed two cups of coffee on the table and subtly added a few drops of Veritaserum into one of them before sliding it toward Daniels.

The man, oblivious to the potion, took a sip and exhaled tiredly.

Zane leaned forward, his tone casual. "So, what exactly happened with James?"

Daniels ran a hand over his face before answering.

"It started about a month ago. James had a daughter—Camilla. She was nine years old. Sweet girl. One day, she just… vanished. No ransom note, no clues, nothing. The entire department searched for her, but we found nothing."

A dull ache settled in Zane's chest.

Zane's mind raced. "So James started his own investigation?"

Daniels nodded. "Yeah. About ten days after she disappeared, he found something—a lead near his home."

Zane's eyes narrowed. "What kind of lead?"

"A kid in the neighborhood told James he saw a man walking with a little girl around the same time Camilla vanished. We showed him Camilla's photo, but the kid said it wasn't her. James didn't accept that answer."

Zane's mind sharpened. "Did the kid say anything else?"

Daniels took another sip of coffee, his expression darkening. "Yeah. He remembered something strange. He said the girl was wearing a blue frock. James broke down crying when he heard that."

Zane leaned in. "Why?"

"Because Camilla's favorite dress was a blue frock."

A chill ran down Zane's spine. "That's not enough proof that it was her. Why did James believe it?"

Daniels hesitated. "The kid said something else. He said the girl was walking… like a puppet."

Silence.

Zane's heartbeat slowed.

Like a puppet.

That meant one thing—mind control.

James had realized it too. And it explained why he had acted so recklessly. He must have believed Camilla was still alive, but under someone else's control.

Zane took a deep breath. "What happened next?"

Daniels sighed. "After that, James became obsessed. He stopped talking to people, stopped coming to work. Then, a week ago, he completely disappeared. And two days ago… well, you know what happened."

Zane nodded slowly. It was all starting to make sense.

James hadn't attacked the embassy because he was turned into some mindless weapon. No—he had done it on purpose.

He wanted to get attention.

But why? Was he trying to send a message? Or was he trying to get captured on purpose?

Zane's mind spun with possibilities.

He needed to find James' house.

"Did you ever find any leads after James spoke with that kid?" Zane asked.

Daniels shook his head. "No. After that, everything went cold."

Zane decided he had what he needed. But before he left, he needed one last piece of information.

He leaned forward, his voice calm. "Do you happen to know where James lived?"

Daniels, still under the effects of Veritaserum, nodded. "Yeah. He has a house in Brooklyn. 214 West Green Street. Used to be his late wife's family home."

Zane memorized the address and stood up. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out another vial, subtly pouring its contents into the Daniels coffee. This one wasn't Veritaserum—it was a mild forgetfulness potion. Daniels wouldn't remember their conversation in an hour.

Zane patted the man's shoulder. "Thanks for the information. Stay safe."

Daniels , still dazed, mumbled a response before taking another sip of his coffee.

Zane walked out of the café, his mind already calculating his next move.

James' house was his next stop.

If he wanted answers, that was where he'd find them.