Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

In the stillness of a dimly lit office, the door creaked open.

A man stepped inside, his movements shaky and uncertain. He closed the door behind him and approached the large desk where a shadowed figure sat. The faint glow of magical lanterns barely illuminated the man's pale, nervous face.

The figure behind the desk did not rise. His voice cut through the silence like cold steel.

"What is it? Did you find the door key or not?"

The man swallowed hard before answering.

"No, sir. We—we tried to locate it, but we couldn't." He hesitated. "However, six days ago, we detected something… The door key was activated. The enchantments we placed on it—some still remained. We were able to confirm its use."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the chair scraped back violently as the man behind the desk rose to his feet, fury radiating from him.

"That's impossible." His voice shook with rage. "There is no way anyone could activate it. No one has the knowledge to decode the rest of the runes—no one."

The man near the door trembled.

"We checked with three separate curse breakers, sir. All confirmed it. Someone successfully deciphered all 153 runes and activated the key."

A tense silence stretched between them.

Then the man behind the desk snapped, "Did you track where the key transported them?"

"Only partially, sir. Somewhere near the English borders… possibly in the Irish mountains. But we couldn't pinpoint the exact location. Something interfered with the tracking spell—an unknown magic."

The figure's voice dropped to a low growl.

"What about Dumbledore? Has he found the culprit or not?"

"No, sir. Minister Fudge informed him and even brought him to the department. Dumbledore promised to investigate, but there's been no word since."

The man at the desk slammed his fist onto the wooden surface. The desk rattled.

"Then go. Tell that idiot Fudge to pressure Dumbledore immediately. I want answers. And send a team of Unspeakables to search the Irish mountains. Have them comb every rock and ruin if they must. I want that key!"

"Yes, sir," the man near the door said quickly. "I'll relay the message at once. I'll also inform Fudge to apply pressure on Dumbledore."

The shadowed figure narrowed his eyes.

"What about our other leads? Have our allies discovered anything about the remaining members of the council?"

The man hesitated again.

"There are no confirmed locations. But there are… rumors. American wizards may have discovered something—traces, perhaps—related to another council member. Near historical sites."

The man behind the desk went still.

"Then send a spy. Immediately. I want someone embedded in their circle. Get me every scrap of information. I don't care what they're doing—I will not let any other country get their hands on the council's legacy. All of it belongs to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'll see to it right away."

"Good. And send a separate team of discoverers to the location where the key was last used. I don't care if it takes them a week or a year. They will find that place."

The man gave a sharp nod, turned, and quickly exited the room.

Alone again, the figure behind the desk remained standing, his eyes fixed on the dark wood. His voice softened, barely above a whisper.

"Was it you… Elara?"

He let the name linger in the air, thick with contempt and something else—something colder.

"Even after I cursed you… you survived, didn't you?" He let out a breath. "After more than ten years in hiding, you finally emerged. You stole our artifact from the very place we built it together. How nostalgic."

His lips curled into a smile—not one of joy, but of bitterness.

"I always told you, Elara. We could have ruled the Black Family. Together. I begged you—let's serve the Dark Lord, destroy Walburga, take everything we were denied. But you… you were foolish. You ran."

His voice dropped lower, almost reverent in its hate.

"And because of your cowardice, I lost the final piece—the last of the runes. That betrayal cost me everything."

He leaned back in his chair, eyes distant now, burning with memory and malice.

"You made a mistake, Elara. But it's alright. I'll find you again. And when I do… you'll tell me everything."

His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the desk.

"Because no one in this world—no one but you—could have solved the 153 runes. I know it was you."

A pause.

Then, softer:

"I'll be waiting for you, my dear."