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The Genius Malignus

Chapter 32: Silent Pursuit

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The air was sharp and cold as Blaise and Ron apparated into the outskirts of the targeted zone. The area was dense with towering pines, their branches weighed down by frost. The faint hum of magic vibrated in the stillness, a low warning for anyone foolish enough to tread uninvited. Blaise adjusted his gloves, his expression cool and composed. Ron, in contrast, scanned the forest with sharp, darting eyes, his wand already drawn.

“Subtlety, Weasley,” Blaise muttered, casting a quick Homenum Revelio spell. A faint shimmer illuminated in the distance, revealing the outline of a ward. “The last thing we need is for you to bumble into a trap.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Bumble? Right. Because I’ve definitely survived two wars by tripping over myself.”

Blaise smirked but didn’t reply, his focus shifting to the delicate strands of magic threading through the trees. The ward was intricate, layers of protection bound together with dark, pulsing energy. The closer they approached, the thicker the magic felt, like walking through unseen cobwebs.

“Complex work,” Blaise murmured, crouching to examine a rune carved into the bark of a tree. He traced the outline of the symbol with a gloved hand. “Blood magic, interwoven with illusion charms. Theo’s been busy.”

“Or whoever’s helping him,” Ron added. He squatted beside Blaise, tilting his head at the rune. “That one’s a proximity trigger. Step too close without disarming it, and it’ll probably fry us.”

Blaise glanced at him, sceptical. “You know that for certain?”

Ron snorted. “You think I spent years sneaking into Death Eater hideouts without learning a thing or two about traps? Go ahead, Zabini, keep underestimating me. It’ll be fun watching you get zapped.”

For a moment, Blaise didn’t reply. He merely studied Ron as if seeing him for the first time. Then he straightened, brushing imaginary dust off his robes. “Fine. Prove your brilliance, Weasley. Disarm it.”

Ron rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he uncapped a small flask of diluted dragon’s blood from his pocket. With practiced ease, he dabbed a few drops onto the rune, muttering an incantation under his breath. The rune hissed and flickered, then faded entirely.

Blaise’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Dragon’s blood?” he asked, a hint of curiosity breaking through his usual composure. “And where exactly did you get your hands on that?”

Ron shrugged, slipping the flask back into his pocket. “Luna. She’s got a knack for collecting weird stuff—powerful and useful. She gave me this pouch with various rare concoctions before we left. You’d be surprised what she has stashed away.”

Blaise let out a soft chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be. Lovegood’s eccentricity does seem to have its advantages.”

“More than you know,” Ron replied with a grin. “That’s one down,” he added, straightening. “You’re welcome.”

Blaise’s smirk returned, though it was less condescending this time. “A decent trick. But let’s see how you handle this.” He pointed ahead to a clearing where the ward’s core shimmered faintly, a nexus of tangled magic anchored by three glowing stones. The stones radiated a sickly green light, casting unnatural shadows across the ground.

“Looks like the anchor points,” Blaise said. “The stones are enchanted with…” He trailed off, narrowing his eyes. “Something volatile. Removing one will probably trigger the others.”

“Probably?” Ron echoed, stepping closer to get a better look. He crouched, carefully studying the spacing of the stones and the faint lines of magic connecting them. “This is rigged to explode if you touch it the wrong way. But it’s not unbreakable.”

Blaise folded his arms. “And you have a solution, I suppose?”

“Maybe. Got your wand ready?”

“Always.”

“Good,” Ron said. “We’re going to have to sever the magical connections at the same time. If we’re even a second off, it’ll go off like a bloody fiendfyre.”

Blaise hesitated, surprised by Ron’s confidence. “You’ve done this before?”

“Once or twice,” Ron replied nonchalantly. He pointed to one of the stones. “That one’s your target. On my count, aim for the connection on the left. Use a severing charm, nothing too strong. Ready?”

Blaise nodded, his grip on his wand tightening. He followed Ron’s lead, positioning himself to strike.

“Three… two… one!”

Their spells fired in unison, precise and sharp. The magical lines snapped with an audible crack, and for a moment, the stones shimmered dangerously. Then, as if sighing in defeat, the green light flickered out.

Ron let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “See? Easy.”

Blaise studied him, a grudging respect in his gaze. “Not bad, Weasley. Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.”

Ron smirked. “Keep underestimating me, Zabini. I’m full of surprises.”

Before Blaise could respond, a low growl echoed through the clearing. Both men froze, their wands snapping up. From the shadows, a pair of glowing eyes appeared, followed by a hulking figure cloaked in darkness.

“What the hell is that?” Ron whispered.

Blaise’s jaw tightened. “Trouble.”

 


 

Harry tightened his grip on his wand as he and Hermione moved through the shadowy corridor of the old fortress. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of moss and decay. Their footsteps echoed faintly, the sound swallowed by the oppressive stillness around them.

Hermione pressed her fingers to the small tattoo behind her ear, activating the communication charm. “Blaise? Ron? Can you hear me? The wards feel like they’ve come down—what’s your status?”

Silence answered her. Hermione glanced at Harry, worry etched on her face.

Draco here,” came a sharp, clipped voice, breaking the quiet. “I’ve checked the perimeter. The wards are definitely down, but I haven’t received anything from Blaise or Weasley. If the two of you sense anything unusual, proceed with caution.

Hermione straightened, her voice calm despite the tension. “Understood. We’re still moving toward Daphne’s possible location. The magic here is strange—dense and layered.

Stay sharp,” Draco advised. “Theo isn’t the type to leave anything undefended.

Another voice chimed in, more composed but no less urgent. “Hermione, this is Neville. I’m with Draco. If the wards are gone, continue your investigation. Let us know immediately if you find her.

Will do,” Hermione replied. She lowered her hand, the charm fading. “Well, at least we know the others are still out there.”

Harry nodded, his face grim. “But Blaise and Ron? Not a word. That doesn’t sit right.”

“It doesn’t,” Hermione admitted. “But we can’t stop now. If Theo’s barriers are gone, Daphne might be within reach.”

They pressed on, moving deeper into the fortress. The air seemed to grow heavier with every step, the faint hum of magic prickling their skin. Harry raised his wand, his instincts on high alert. “Hermione, doesn’t this feel too easy to you?”

“Too quiet,” she agreed, her tone thoughtful. “Like we’re being funnelled somewhere.”

The corridor widened into a larger chamber, its high, arched ceiling lost in shadow. A pedestal stood in the centre of the room, its polished stone surface holding a delicate crystal vial that glowed with a soft golden light. Around it, faint lines of magic glimmered, etched into the floor in a complex pattern.

Hermione stopped short, her eyes narrowing. “A lure. Something to distract or delay us.”

Harry approached cautiously, his wand trained on the vial. “Could it be dangerous?”

“Almost certainly,” Hermione replied. She stepped closer, crouching to study the magical lines. “This isn’t part of the ward structure. It’s a localized trap—designed to alert someone if disturbed.”

“You can handle it?” Harry asked, keeping watch over the room.

Hermione gave him a brief, wry smile. “I’ve been dismantling enchantments since I was twelve. Step back.”

Harry smirked but didn’t argue. Harry's gaze swept the room as Hermione worked, murmuring incantations and tracing the lines with her wand. The tension in his chest tightened, his instincts screaming that something was wrong.

Then it came. A faint, metallic scraping sound from the shadows.

“Hermione,” he said quietly, his wand snapping up. “We’re not alone.”

Hermione didn’t look up, her focus locked on the spellwork. “Keep them busy. I’m almost done.”

The sound grew louder, echoing across the chamber. From the far corner, a hooded figure emerged, his wand raised. Without hesitation, he fired a stunning spell.

Protego!” Harry bellowed, the shield charm deflecting the red bolt. He countered with a disarming spell, but the figure dodged with surprising agility, circling to the side.

The figure’s voice rang out, low and commanding. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Harry didn’t respond. He lunged forward, firing a rapid series of curses that forced the figure back. His training as an Auror was evident in every precise movement, and his spells were fast and unrelenting.

Meanwhile, Hermione worked furiously, her wand flashing as she unravelled the last of the magical connections. The glow of the vial began to fade, the intricate lines on the floor dissolving into nothingness.

“Got it!” she called out just as the hooded figure broke free of Harry’s assault and turned his wand on her.

Incarcerous!” the figure shouted, ropes shooting toward Hermione.

Finite!” she countered, the ropes disintegrating mid-air. “Harry, let’s finish this!”

Harry nodded, his wand aimed steadily at the attacker. “Stupefy!” The stunning spell hit its mark, and the figure crumpled to the ground, motionless.

Hermione rushed over, her breath coming fast. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, his eyes scanning the room. “But who the hell was that? And why was he guarding this place?”

Hermione crouched beside the unconscious man, her wand glowing faintly as she muttered a diagnostic charm. “He’s under some binding spell. Whoever he is, he’s not acting of his own free will.”

Harry frowned. “Theo?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. But it’s definitely connected to him.”

She stood, her expression resolute. “Let’s move. If Daphne’s here, we’re getting close.”

 


 

Draco and Neville moved cautiously through the fortress's shadowed hallways. The damp air carried the scent of mildew and stone long untouched. The thick layer of dust on the floor muffled their footsteps, but each creak of the ancient wood above made their wands twitch toward the sound.

He noticed that the barrier had been put down, but there was no sign from Blaise and Ron. Suddenly, a faint voice pops into his head. “Blaise? Ron? Can you hear me? The wards feel like they’ve come down—what’s your status?”

He answered immediately, “Draco here,” looking at Neville, confused about the situation. “I’ve checked the perimeter. The wards are definitely down, but I haven’t received anything from Blaise or Weasley. If the two of you sense anything unusual, proceed with caution.

Hermione straightened, her voice calm despite the tension. “Understood. We’re still moving toward Daphne’s possible location. The magic here is strange—dense and layered.

“Stay sharp,” Draco advised. “Theo isn’t the type to leave anything undefended.”

Neville suddenly chimed in, his hand on the communicator, informing Hermione and Harry, “Hermione, this is Neville. I’m with Draco. If the wards are gone, continue your investigation. Let us know immediately if you find her.

“Will do,” Hermione replied. Then, no other answer. Draco lowered his hand, his gaze scanning the dim corridor ahead. “If Theo’s here, he’s counting on us to be cautious. We need to keep moving.”

Neville nodded, gripping his wand tightly as he followed Draco through the twisting, shadow-filled corridors of the fortress. The deeper they ventured, the colder the air became, and the walls seemed to close in around them, the weight of the stone pressing down as though the very building itself was aware of their intrusion. Every shadow stretched longer, darker, and more menacing, as if alive with threats just beyond their sight. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of stone or the distant rustle of something moving in the dark. It felt as though the fortress itself was watching them.

After a moment of uneasy quiet, Neville broke the silence, his voice low but sharp. “Draco, why did we have to engage this fortress tonight? Wouldn’t it have been smarter to wait for more intelligence? I mean, we don’t even know the full scope of their defences or who’s inside.”

Draco’s jaw tightened, and he shot Neville a glance, his eyes flickering with a mixture of frustration and urgency. “Because we don’t have time to wait, Neville.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Tiberius is already out of Azkaban. The longer we sit on our hands, the more ground they gain. They’ll be one step ahead of us before we know it, and by then, it’ll be too late to stop them. Tonight is our best chance to disrupt everything before they can solidify their plans and turn the tide fully in their favour.”

Neville absorbed the explanation, nodding slowly as he processed the gravity of the situation. He had known the risks were high, but hearing the urgency in Draco’s voice made it all the more real. They weren’t just infiltrating a fortress—they were trying to stop a dark force from becoming unstoppable. The stakes were higher than ever, and the weight of their mission pressed heavily on him. Still, the sense of unease lingered, the knowledge that they were walking into the unknown without guaranteeing success.

They reached a fork in the corridor, and Draco gestured silently, directing them to the left path. Without a word, they continued on, their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the dark, oppressive hallway. The tension between them thickened with each step, the feeling of danger building as they moved deeper into the heart of the fortress.

Suddenly, the low murmur of voices reached their ears, carried faintly through the stone walls. Both men froze in their tracks, their wands drawn instinctively as they scanned the dim corridor ahead, every sense on high alert. The voices were muffled but unmistakable, the sound of more than one person conversing nearby. There was no telling how many or if they had been spotted.

From the edge of their sight, a tall figure emerged into the dim light. The figure was gaunt, with sharp features, no mask he's using and an air of cold calculation. It was Augustus Rookwood, his thin face illuminated by a floating orb that hovered just above his hand, casting a ghostly glow that only added to the sinister atmosphere. He was unmistakable, his reputation preceding him.

Rookwood’s eyes locked onto them with sharp intensity, his gaze narrowing as he assessed them. Suspicion flickered across his expression, but his usual calculated coldness quickly masked it. “Hey, you two,” he greeted them, his tone clipped and distant. “What are you doing here? This area is restricted.”

Draco didn’t miss a beat. His expression remained impassive as he met Rookwood’s gaze head-on, his voice steady and commanding. “Checking the perimeter. What about you?” He offered the question without hesitation, his stance confident.

Rookwood’s lips twitched ever so slightly in what could have been a smile, but it held none of the warmth of a greeting. “Same,” he said shortly, his eyes still watching them closely. His gaze shifted momentarily as if searching the corridor behind them for signs of movement. “The wards went down,” he added in a lower voice, his expression darkening. “Which means someone’s breached the outer defences. You two haven’t seen anything suspicious, have you?”

“We’re handling it,” Draco said, his voice unwavering. “No need for idle chatter. You check the west wing; we’ll take the north. Make sure no one escapes.” His tone left no room for argument, as though the command had already been made.

Rookwood’s sharp gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, and for a brief second, Neville could feel the weight of the scrutiny pressing on him. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken tension, as though Rookwood was weighing their words and looking for any sign of weakness or falsehood. But in the end, Rookwood gave a stiff nod, his eyes still unreadable.

“Fine,” he said, his voice colder now, carrying a subtle threat. “But if you run into trouble, don’t expect me to clean it up. I’ve got my own problems to deal with.” With that, he turned abruptly and strode off down the adjoining corridor, the orb floating beside him, its glow fading as he disappeared into the darkness.

Draco exhaled quietly, the tension in his frame slowly dissipating, though his eyes remained alert. Neville almost fainted and said, "That was close", while Draco lowered his wand but didn’t relax. “We need to move faster,” he murmured under his breath, the urgency clear in his voice. “Theo’s close. He's around here somewhere because this area is restricted. We can’t waste any more time.”

Neville nodded without a word, his own sense of urgency growing. They had been close—too close—but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. The mission came first. His jaw set in determination as he met Draco’s gaze, silently agreeing with the plan. They had no choice but to push forward.

They resumed their journey down the corridor, moving quickly but quietly, their footsteps muffled by the thick stone floor beneath them. Each turn, each shadow, held new dangers, but they had no other option than to press on. The fortress was a labyrinth, its dark hallways twisting and turning in ways that seemed to stretch time itself, but they had one goal now—to find Theo, to stop whatever dark forces were gathering before it was too late.