The Chronicles of Blood and Fire (HP Fanfic)

The old storeroom was quiet now.

Mara had been gone for hours.

The others waited—nervous, stiff, unable to fully rest. Talwyn sat with his back to the door, wand in his lap, eyelids fluttering every time the hallway creaked. Lina remained close to the back wall, her hands wrapped in cloth, one ankle propped up awkwardly—still tender from the last fall.

Julian was pacing.

Caelum sat apart from them, legs folded beneath him, eyes half-lidded, not sleeping—but listening.

Every heartbeat in the room echoed like a countdown.

The blood he'd consumed still churned inside him—real blood, alive with magic and memory. It had healed him, partially, but more than that it had awakened something. His spellcasting was sharper now. Cleaner. The strain of wandless magic no longer left his limbs trembling, and the connection to the wand he held in his palm—stolen from a corpse—was stronger than it had any right to be.

Even now, he could feel the rhythm of dueling playing out in his head.

Step. Deflect. Disrupt. Cut.

Magic didn't just obey—it danced, if you knew the beat.

Caelum let out a slow breath. That was the agent's instinct, speaking through him. Or what remained of it.

Julian broke the silence first. "She's taking too long."

"No one sprints across London," Talwyn muttered. "Especially not with all of us flagged."

"Assuming she even got out…" Julian started, then stopped himself.

Caelum opened his eyes. "She did."

They looked at him.

"I don't know how far," he continued. "But she made it out of the building. I know that much."

"How?"

He tilted his head. "I can still feel the wards shifting. She passed through the last anchor gate. And no alarm went up."

"Yet," Lina murmured.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Caelum said, "Once she gets to St. Mungo's, if she finds Mirren, and if Mirren finds Kingsley…"

"That's a lot of ifs," Julian snapped.

"But it's all we've got," Caelum said. Calm. Resolute. "We move at nightfall. We find a new hiding spot. And if they catch us before she returns, we don't go quietly."

Talwyn nodded grimly. "No one's going back in a body bag."

They were preparing to sleep in turns when Caelum suddenly sat upright.

His eyes sharpened.

A pulse.

Something had shifted in the lower wards. 

"They're moving," Caelum muttered.

"Who?"

"Staff. Enforcers. It's not just a sweep. A deployment."

He turned toward the others, face pale in the low torchlight.

"They're done watching."

…

Meanwhile: North of London, Outer Borough

The wind stung Mara's cheeks as she darted through the alleyways, her stolen wand clenched in her hand.

She had discarded her cloak hours ago. Burned it, actually. It smelled of blood and Greystone rot. Now she ran in borrowed clothes, a tattered Ministry trainee robe over mismatched boots.

She had crossed the threshold out of Greystone by leaping from a service tunnel. Two cuts, a dislocated wrist, and one evasion spell later—she was out.

Now she had one goal.

Find Mirren.

She rounded the final corner and skidded to a halt in front of the glowing green sigil of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The automatic warded doors resisted her entrance—then clicked open.

Inside, the welcome witch looked up, startled at the sight of a soot-streaked girl, wand raised only slightly in signal, eyes wide with urgency.

Mara stumbled forward and slammed her palms on the counter.

"I need to speak to Healer Mirren. Now."

The witch blinked. "Miss, if you're injured—"

"No. Not for me." Mara's voice was breathless but sharp with purpose.

"It's for Caelum Sanguine. From Greystone House. He needs her help—it's a matter of life and death."

The welcome witch hesitated only a second more before flicking her wand sharply. A green flame danced in the air—an emergency call.

"Wait here," she said quickly. "She's on her way."

Mara exhaled and leaned heavily against the wall.

For the first time in hours, she didn't have to run.