Cursed Cave
Later that day, Draco invited Harry to meet him for a bit of shopping before their adventure. Pansy had also invited Hermione to join her for some beauty shopping, specifically hair products and a color refresh.
Harry arrived at Draco’s flat, it wasn’t the large mansion he shared with Astoria but a much cozier place—a personal flat that doubled as a potions lab and vacation home. Draco greeted him at the door, dressed impeccably in a dark green turtleneck sweater and dark brown pants. He looked effortlessly chic, as always.
“Come in,” Draco said, gesturing for Harry to take a seat. “I thought we’d have a little wine.”
Harry raised an eyebrow, confused. “I thought we were going to—”
Draco waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll leave in a few. Just relax.”
Harry sat on one of the plush chairs, still slightly puzzled. Draco’s house elf appeared with a tray of snacks, and the two of them sipped their wine in comfortable silence for a moment.
Then, out of nowhere, Draco leaned forward, a sudden curiosity in his expression. “You don’t age, do you?”
Harry froze, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “No.”
Immediately, Harry’s stomach dropped as he realized, too late, that he had just admitted the truth. And the realization hit him. Veritaserum. He could fight it, but he didn't realize he'd consumed it!
Draco put his hands up quickly. “I mean no harm, Harry. I figured it out months ago. Last night, you being shocked at our age confirmed it. I just wanted to know why you hid it.”
Harry felt a pang of hurt, but he let out a breath and relaxed, his posture softening. “I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s... dangerous.”
Draco’s expression softened as he nodded. “You have all three of the Deathly Hallows?”
Harry’s gaze tightened, and he nodded stiffly. “Yes. That’s why I said it was dangerous. The one who carries them is usually killed.”
Draco’s voice grew quieter, but there was no judgment in it. “Do you think I’d hurt you?”
Harry's eyes softened as he met Draco’s gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No, I love you, you jerk, and I know you love me. But the more people know, the higher the risk to us. No one keeps the wand long without being killed. We keep it quiet to protect ourselves."
Draco’s eyes widened in shock. "Hermione too?!"
Harry’s expression shifted, and he winced slightly, visibly uncomfortable. "Don’t make me answer that," he muttered.
Draco cursed under his breath and sat back, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, sorry. I don’t mean to put her at risk. Don't answer that! But you realize it's not just physical, right? Not aging means you're literally still a teenager... true magical immortality has only been reached a handful of ways. But stopping the aging process completely... from all my research, that’s never happened. It would mean every evolution process, every aging process... they all stop. Your brain, your magical core, your metabolism... they're all still 17."
Harry shrugged, as if he had grown accustomed to this strange reality. "Mione figured as much. She says it’s why my temper’s still short. I can’t really evolve or grow, so I’m stuck with the same temper I had at 17. Forever."
"The glamours... they're because you look younger, right?" Draco asked, his voice quieter now.
Harry waved his hand, and the glamours surrounding him vanished, revealing his unchanged, 17-year-old face. Draco’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. "Wow. You look just like you did back then. It’s... it’s a little surreal."
Harry chuckled softly, though there was a tinge of sadness in it. "Yeah, our hair grows, but other than that, nothing changes."
Draco smirked. "You should really do something with that hair."
Harry shot him a playful glare. "I usually wear glamours, so I never bothered."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What else hasn’t changed?"
Harry’s smile faded, replaced by a grim expression. "I still have nightmares. I tried mind healers, but... apparently as your mind ages, it heals too. That’s why they say 'time heals all wounds,' right? But I can’t heal. I’m frozen in the exact physical, mental, and emotional state I was in when I stopped aging. So... I can’t heal from the war. To my brain, I’m still in it. Every day."
Draco’s face softened with concern. "When exactly did you stop aging?"
Harry’s voice grew quieter, more somber. "When I stood against Voldemort. He cast the Killing Curse, and I cast Expelliarmus. His wand landed in my hand, just before my spell hit him. The moment the wand hit my palm... that’s when it happened."
Draco stared at him in disbelief. "So you’re stuck as the 17-year-old kid fighting him? Forever?"
Harry gave a small, resigned shrug. "A blessing and a curse. I can’t die, I don’t age... but I can’t grow either."
Draco’s brow furrowed as he processed this. "So when you’re alone with Hermione, you still act 17?"
Harry nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. "I grew up fast back then, with the war and all. We were on the run, hunting Horcruxes. According to Mione, I still act like that kid on the run. We read, dance, talk, brew potions... but for me, it’s like we never stopped running. We’re just in a house now. But I still feel paranoid, like the war never really ended."
Draco’s voice was soft with concern. "And Hermione?"
Harry sighed. "She’s not 17 like me. She’s in her early 20s, mentally. She’s stuck in this... maternal, caring, wife phase, I think. For her, the war ended, but only recently. She still has nightmares too."
Draco leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Well, I want to take you shopping. I want to take 17-year-old Harry Potter shopping."
Harry frowned, clearly confused. "Why?"
Draco leaned back, his voice softer, but sincere. "Because around the house, you don’t wear the glamours, right?"
Harry nodded. "No, I don’t."
Draco continued, his tone more thoughtful. "And you never really got to be a kid, Harry. You won the war at 17. Went into Auror training at 17. You were head of a department at 20. And now... you're immortal, but you’re still a teenager, frozen in time. You should get to experience that. What would you wear if you didn’t have to worry about anything? If you didn’t have an image to maintain?"
Harry was silent for a moment, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. He looked up at Draco, a small, almost shy smile playing at his lips. "I’ve always wanted a leather jacket. Like Sirius used to wear. Or maybe a denim jacket, with all the rips in it."
Draco chuckled, nodding approvingly. "Then we’ll get you both.
“Really?” Harry asked, suddenly eager.
Draco’s face lit up. “Yes really, let’s go! I want to see you in something you’ve always wanted.”
Harry chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. But I'm paying for all of it."
Draco raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a playful smirk. "Of course, you're paying for me too," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Harry shook his head with a grin. "You're impossible."
Draco’s eyes gleamed with excitement as they made their way through the busy streets of London. They approached a small, discreet alley tucked between two shops, a place Harry hadn’t noticed before. The air felt different here—quieter, almost magical.
Draco stopped in front of an old-fashioned shop with a polished wooden sign that read Vires & Virtus Apparel in elegant, gold lettering. "Here we are," Draco said, giving Harry a knowing look. "This place is perfect.”
Harry blinked in surprise. "What is this place? Never seen it before."
Draco smirked. "That’s because it’s exclusive. Private. A little secret I’ve got up my sleeve for special occasions like this.”
Draco ushered Harry inside and used a spell on the windows before locking the door. “You can drop the glamours, and no one will bat an eye."
Harry hesitated but then shrugged. With a subtle wave of his wand, the glamours faded away. His youthful face, unchanged since he was seventeen, was revealed once again.
The shop was larger than it appeared from the outside, filled with racks of clothes that seemed to shimmer with enchantments. The fabrics looked as if they were made from moonlight and starlight, and the air smelled faintly of cedar and lavender. It was a mix of old-world charm and modern elegance, with a magical touch.
Before Harry could even take it all in, Draco turned to one of the shop assistants, a petite woman with sharp features and a knowing smile. "Are we ready?" Draco asked.
The assistant nodded and moved quickly behind the counter, taking out quills and called all the workers forward. "We’re ready, Master Malfoy," she said with a polite nod.
Draco pulled out a small stack of parchment and handed them to the assistant.
"Magically binding non-disclosure agreements. All employees will have to sign them before we begin our shopping," he explained to Harry with a wink.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You seriously made them sign those? You’re a bit paranoid, aren't you?"
Draco gave him a pointed look. "It's for everyone's protection. If I’m bringing you into a private space, I don’t want any... surprises. They can't reveal anything they see or hear, all sales are private and they agree to having their memories altered or removed once we walk out the door for our protection." He nodded to the shop assistant, who moved swiftly to gather the signatures.
Within moments, all the employees were gathered, signing the magical non-disclosure agreements, each of them nodding in agreement. Draco’s charm and influence were clearly undeniable. Once everything was signed and sealed, Draco turned back to Harry, eyes sparkling.
"Now, let’s get to it." Draco snapped his fingers, a glowing barrier appeared over the door, ensuring no one would be able to walk in or overhear. The workers knew their place, and they made themselves scarce, disappearing behind the scenes as Draco and Harry were left alone to shop in peace.
Draco led Harry down aisles filled with extravagant clothes. There were leather jackets, tailored trousers, velvet robes, and shimmering button-up shirts. It was as though the very air inside the shop had a magic of its own, transforming ordinary clothes into the extraordinary.
Harry walked up to a rack of jackets, his fingers brushing the leather. "This is it," he said, grinning. "This is what I’ve always wanted."
Draco looked over with a raised eyebrow. "I know. It’s not like I don’t listen to you."
Harry picked up a black leather jacket with intricate silver designs along the sleeves. He held it up and turned it around, admiring the fit. "What do you think?" he asked, glancing at Draco.
"Looks fantastic on you," Draco replied with a smirk. "But I think you should try it on first. You deserve to feel how it fits."
Harry made his way to the fitting rooms, leaving Draco to his own devices. As soon as Harry slipped on the jacket, he looked in the mirror and smiled. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like the Boy Who Lived. He didn’t feel like he was hiding who he really was, hiding his true self. He felt free.
When he walked back out, Draco was waiting with a knowing smile. "I knew it," Draco said with a wicked grin. "That’s exactly what you needed."
Harry grinned back. "It feels perfect. I love it."
As they browsed the rest of the shop, Draco seemed to enjoy the process just as much as Harry did. He pulled out a few items, urging Harry to try them on, encouraging him to pick things he might not have considered before. There was a sense of liberation in the air, and it felt like Harry was finally able to shop like a normal person, like a teenager who never got to experience the joy of picking out clothes for himself.
"I love this," Harry said, holding up a vintage denim jacket with rips all over it. It was worn in a way that felt like it had a story to tell. "How’s this?"
Draco raised his eyebrows. "It’s perfect for you. Definitely one of those ‘I don’t care, but I still look cool’ looks."
Harry laughed. "That’s exactly what I’m going for."
As they continued to shop, Harry found himself flirty and carefree, trying on clothes with an unburdened smile on his face. He joked with the shop assistants, even indulging in some playful banter with Draco, who seemed thoroughly entertained. Harry didn’t have to worry about hiding his true appearance or pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He was simply Harry, and for once, he got to be the carefree teenager he never was.
After a while, they decided to stop at a small counter tucked at the back of the shop, where a magical barista served the most delicious coffee Harry had ever had. They both sat down, relaxed, and enjoyed their drinks.
"How does it feel?" Draco asked, a knowing smile on his face.
Harry took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "It feels... normal. Like I’m not trapped in a past I never got to live. This is the me I always wanted to be."
Draco grinned. "Good. Because that’s the real Harry Potter."
Draco grinned with mischief as he led Harry through the store, walking past racks of luxurious clothes and into the back corner. It was tucked away from the main floor, behind a velvet curtain, and Harry could already feel the magic pulsing in the air. Behind the curtain was a space that looked like a high-end salon, its sleek, modern décor mixing with the faint hum of calming enchantments. The lighting was warm, almost golden, making everything look surreal and dreamlike.
"Welcome to the salon," Draco announced grandly, opening the door to a private space. "This is where the real magic happens."
Harry was about to ask what Draco meant when the stylist, a tall man with silver hair and an intense gaze, looked up from his station. He offered a small, knowing smile.
Draco turned to Harry, who was still taking everything in. "Close your eyes," Draco instructed gently. "Imagine how you’d look if you were just a normal teenager. Nothing to maintain, no image to uphold, just... you."
Harry raised an eyebrow but did as he was told. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the world lift off his shoulders for a brief moment. He let go of all the years of expectation, the image of the hero he had to be, the burden of always looking a certain way. He thought about what he wanted to look like—free, untethered, and, for once, not hiding.
"Alright," Draco said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "Now imagine it."
The stylist nodded, his eyes flicking over Harry with a slight frown as he concentrated. The air around them seemed to thrum with magical energy, and Harry felt something strange settle in his chest—a quiet anticipation.
"Perfect," the stylist finally said, his voice smooth and calm, a small smile playing on his lips.
Draco gave a satisfied nod. "He's a Legilimens. But don’t worry—he only uses it for styling purposes. He’ll never pry into your thoughts, just your desires for how you want to look."
Harry blinked, still a little taken aback. "Legilimens?" He gave Draco a look, half amused and half apprehensive. "That’s a bit... extreme for a haircut."
Draco chuckled, but there was an edge to his amusement. "You'd be surprised how useful it is for getting the perfect look. Trust me, Harry. He’s good."
Harry sat in the sleek salon chair, still a bit skeptical but willing to go along with it. The stylist, whose name Harry now knew as Caden, moved with quick precision. He began by trimming Harry’s hair, taking care to keep the length on top while shaving the sides and back shorter, like a sharp undercut. The sound of scissors snipping in the silence was almost soothing, and Harry found himself relaxing into the process.
It was when Caden finished cutting that the real magic happened. With a few swift waves of his wand, Caden styled Harry’s hair, pushing it in ways that made it look deliberately tousled—messy but sexy in a way that Harry had never seen himself. There was something dangerous about it, as if the wild, untamed look could belong to someone who didn’t give a damn about the rules. It suited Harry in a way he couldn’t have imagined before.
The final touch was a small, silvery needle. Harry winced slightly as Caden pierced his bottom lip, quickly enchanting the silver hoop so that it felt comfortable and natural.
Draco stepped forward, examining Harry closely, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Well, well, Potter. You look... fantastic."
Harry blinked in shock. His hair was different—edgy and rebellious. His lip had a small hoop in it that made him look like a troublemaker. He barely recognized himself.
"I... look hot," Harry muttered, running a hand over his new hair. He couldn’t help but smile. "This is insane."
Draco tilted his head, his smile turning a little crooked. "Does it make me a pervert to be attracted to you now that you look seventeen?" he asked teasingly, but there was something deeper in his voice.
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t think so. I’m almost forty, remember?"
Draco laughed, and for a moment, it felt like they were both two teenagers again, free of any weight, just enjoying the carefree moment.
Harry's eyes suddenly widened. "Wait... can I get a tattoo?"
Draco raised an eyebrow. "What? Now?" He grinned, clearly amused by Harry’s sudden burst of enthusiasm.
"I mean…I can right?" Harry replied, throwing his arms up in excitement.
Draco chuckled and grabbed Harry by the wrist, leading him toward the door. “Harry, you saved the world. You can do whatever you want!”
"Fuck, you're right!" Harry said with a laugh, his eyes lighting up. "I can do whatever the hell I want!"
They had a tattoo set up in the salon and Harry was practically vibrating with excitement as he flipped through designs.
Draco, still smiling, raised an eyebrow as they entered the shop. "So, what are you getting? I hope you've got some ideas."
Harry grinned back, his hands in his pockets. "I don’t know yet. I want a few! Maybe some cool symbols or something—things I actually care about."
Draco raised a brow and gave a dramatic sigh, flicking through tattoo books on the counter. "You know, I’m pretty sure you’re going to regret some of these decisions. You're going to have to explain this to Granger.”
Harry grinned. "Yeah, and?"
The tattoo artist behind the counter raised an eyebrow as Harry pointed to a few designs. He had no particular plan—just an overwhelming sense of freedom and the sudden urge to be completely himself. They browsed through designs: a stag, a snake, a symbol of the Deathly Hallows…
Draco picked up a design for a small, delicate crescent moon, a small smile on his lips. "What about we get this one together first to see if you even want more?" he asked, turning the book to Harry.
Harry considered it for a moment. "Yeah...we get to together?”
Draco looked at him, nodding approvingly, “I'm down if you are.”
After a few more moments of deliberation, Harry had his mind made up. He grinned at Draco. "Let's do it."
The pain was minimal, especially after all the pain Harry had endured in his life. And he found he actually liked it. After it was wiped down Harry stood in front of the mirror, his eyes tracing the fresh tattoo that matched Dracos.
It took all of 5 minutes to run back to the book and suddenly the machine was buzzing again. A few hours and 3 artisrs later Harry stood in front of the mirror again topless and in shorts looking at the tattoos that decorated his body.
Each one was a statement—each one told a story. The crescent moon on his wrist was delicate but meaningful, representing his place in the world of magic, the balance of light and dark. The stag on his right shoulder made him think of his father, the protector, while the doe on his left mirrored his mother's spirit—both symbolizing the love and sacrifice that had shaped him. The doe had the word always woven into the background for Severus and everything he'd done for Harry. And to remind him to not let love pass him by.
The snakes across his collarbones, with the Deathly Hallows symbol nestled in between them, was a bold declaration of the legacy he'd inherited and survived. The lion on his right thigh stood for bravery, courage, the Griffendor he was and always would be. And the snake wrapped around his left was a reminder of his power, of the enemies he conquered, and the Slytherin he really was that no one knew about.
And then, the words that seemed to capture everything he'd been through—"To die would be an awfully big adventure"—now ran in a neat script up his forearm. The quote from Peter Pan resonated deeply with Harry, who had always felt the pull between life and death, between the battle and the peace that awaited beyond.
He flexed his wrist, watching the tattoos move as if they were part of him. He'd never imagined he'd end up with so many, but the pain—strangely—had felt good. The process of enduring it, the way it had transformed into something so beautiful and permanent, had felt symbolic of his own life: hard, complicated, and full of moments that left marks. But in the end, it was all worth it.
As he applied his glamours, making sure his appearance matched his usual self—older, a little more polished—he felt a pang of longing. Despite the years and the wisdom he'd gained, the glamour sometimes felt like a mask, a shield he didn’t really need anymore. He looked at himself in the mirror, once more adjusting the way he looked, and realized that—though he liked the comfort of his older, more refined self—there was something liberating about being free of that image. He missed the rawness of the tattoos, of his true self that he only ever showed to Draco, Hermione, and a select few.
"Ready?" Draco’s voice broke through Harry’s thoughts, his tone light and teasing as he pulled Harry from his reverie. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Harry's reflection in the mirror.
Harry nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, let’s go."
They left the shop and headed to the restaurant, where Pansy and Hermione were waiting for them. The cool afternoon air hit Harry’s skin, but it felt strangely refreshing. For once, he wasn’t worried about hiding behind glamours or trying to control how the world saw him. Today, he was exactly who he wanted to be—tattoos, pain, and all.
Pansy looked up as they entered, immediately noticing Harry’s new look. She raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips. "Well, well, look at you, Potter," she teased. "You're practically glowing."
Hermione, her face lighting up at the sight of Harry, tilted her head. "You look... different. In a good way."
Harry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I went a little... overboard, I think."
Pansy scoffed. "I heard…but glad you enjoyed it. There’s still plenty of room for more."
Draco shot her a look, shaking his head. "You’re not encouraging him. He already tried to get more, and I stopped him."
"Thank you for that," Harry muttered, though he appreciated Draco’s restraint. His tattooed body felt like a rebellion he hadn’t known he needed, but he knew he’d have to wait a while before going for anything else.
The four of them sat down and ordered lunch, but Harry felt a little more at ease than he had before. His mind kept drifting back to the tattoos—the pain, the art, the stories—and how it all tied together. There was something beautiful in the process, in the idea that through all the hardship, all the struggle, you could end up with something that was yours forever.
As Hermione and Pansy chatted, Harry leaned back in his seat, savoring the moment. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for once, he felt ready for it. With Draco, with Hermione, with the people he trusted—he felt like he could finally be the person he wanted to be, without all the weight of expectations and obligations that had haunted him for so long.
The day had been a whirlwind, filled with new experiences, laughter, and the odd adventure. By the time Harry and Hermione made it home, the weight of the day seemed to settle over them both in a comforting way. As they walked through the door of their flat, Harry felt the familiar sensation of relief that came with being in his own space.
He immediately dropped his glamours, feeling the cool, fresh air of his true form settle over him. Before he could even stretch, Hermione's sharp intake of breath caught his attention.
“Harry!” She squealed, her eyes wide as she took in his tattoos. "You look—" Her voice broke off in excitement. "You look amazing! What on earth possessed you to get all of them?"
Harry, suddenly feeling a bit bashful under her intense scrutiny, shrugged. “I don’t know. It just...felt right.”
But Hermione wasn’t having any of it. Her hands shot out, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “You got your first tattoo with Draco?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “And not me?”
Harry winced but smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry! It just happened. We’ll go together soon, I promise.”
Her face softened at his words, and she nodded. “I want a few of my own. I know good work is expensive, but, if you’re paying,” she added with a sly smile, “I’ll let you buy me whatever I want.”
He grinned, already thinking about the trip. “You’re on. We’ll go as soon as we get back from our travels.”
Hermione chuckled and flopped onto the couch, her smile bright. “I think we both need this, Harry. A little adventure. A little change.”
Later that night, after they’d settled into bed, Hermione’s usual calmness seemed to disappear. Harry had just begun to doze off when her sharp scream cut through the air, jolting him awake. Her body tensed next to him, her eyes wide and unfocused. She was lost in another nightmare.
"Hey, hey, Hermione," Harry whispered, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. He ran his hand over her back, trying to soothe her. “It’s alright, Hermione. It’s just a bad dream.”
She clung to him, her breathing shallow and panicked as she tried to steady herself. Harry, unable to sleep, continued to hold her until her breathing eventually slowed, though her mind remained troubled. They drifted in and out of a restless sleep, both haunted by the shadows of their pasts.
The next morning, Harry woke up with a sense of urgency. He looked over at Hermione, still asleep beside him, and sighed. They had a trip ahead of them, a much-needed break from their usual lives. It was time to move forward. He gently kissed Hermione on the forehead before getting dressed.
They met up with the others at the International Wizarding Firestation later that morning. Draco, Blaise, Theo, Neville, and Luna were already there, eagerly waiting for their travels to begin. The place was a massive, grand hall, with fireplaces everywhere, each leading to different parts of the world. The smell of soot and magic filled the air, and the excitement was palpable.
Harry walked up to the counter, a little bit of trepidation settling in his chest. He handed over the hefty sum needed to secure their travel, and after a few moments of paperwork and magical checks, they were all cleared. He glanced at Hermione, giving her a reassuring smile. "Ready?"
She grinned back, her face lighting up with a spark of excitement. “Let’s go. Africa, here we come.”
With a few more words of reassurance and some quick preparations, the group stepped into the nearest fireplace, Harry leading the way. The sensation of the Floo Network pulling at him made his stomach flip, and then, with a sudden lurch, they were off.
As the firelight twisted around them, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of freedom. A chance to finally take a break. A chance to be.
The group arrived with a sudden thud, the vibrant warmth of Africa surrounding them as soon as they stepped out of the fireplace. Harry looked around, taking in the dusty air, the bright sunlight, and the unfamiliar landscape. They were here. They were finally on the adventure they'd all been dreaming of.
Hermione stretched her arms, her face lit with happiness. “This is it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “I can’t believe we’re really here.”
Draco smirked. “Well, it’s only the beginning, Granger. You have no idea what’s coming next.”
The sun blazed high in the sky as the group made their way through the bustling village at the edge of the African jungle. The heat was oppressive, the humidity thick, but the excitement of the adventure ahead kept their spirits high. Harry, Hermione, Draco, Blaise, Theo, Neville, and Luna all stood together at the edge of the village, their heavy packs strapped on, the sound of village life around them a distant hum.
They had been told that no magic could be used to traverse the dense jungle to the cave entrance. Apparition was impossible, and Portkeys had a tendency to misfire in such an untamed, magical region. It was the kind of place where the land and the magic were ancient and untamed. So, they would have to do it the old-fashioned way—by foot.
A local guide, a tall man with dark skin and a broad smile, greeted them at the village’s edge. His name was Kofi, and he had the kind of weathered appearance that spoke of years spent navigating the jungle’s perilous terrain. His eyes gleamed with a quiet confidence as he assessed the group.
“Ready for the journey?” he asked, his accent thick but easy to understand.
Harry, adjusting the strap of his pack, nodded. “We are. How far to the cave?”
“Two days,” Kofi said with a grin. “But it will feel like more. The jungle is a maze of life, and the path is rarely straight. It is best to follow a guide who knows the land.”
The others murmured their agreement, and Harry handed over a hefty sum of galleons for Kofi’s services. The guide nodded his approval, and with a final check of their gear, they set off.
The journey began in the warmth of the midday sun, the jungle opening up before them in dense layers of trees and thick underbrush. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, vibrant flowers, and the sharp tang of jungle life. Birds with bright feathers flitted overhead, while the deep rumble of distant creatures echoed through the dense foliage.
They walked in silence for the first few hours, the sounds of the jungle filling the air around them. The ground was uneven, the path often disappearing underfoot and reappearing further along. Harry and Hermione walked side by side, occasionally checking in with the others who were making their way through the jungle in pairs.
Kofi led the way with ease, his boots deftly navigating the jungle floor. His steps were measured and sure, his experience evident in every movement. He would occasionally stop to listen for sounds, eyes scanning the area for signs of danger or a change in the path.
Hours passed as the group made their way deeper into the jungle, the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky. By now, the sweat on their brows had dried, only to be replaced by fresh layers as the heat pressed down harder. The air was thick and suffocating, the humidity making it feel like they were walking through a sauna. The group was covered in a thin layer of dirt, faces flushed, and muscles aching from the strain of the journey.
Draco, ever the perfectionist, was the first to voice his discomfort. “This is a bloody nightmare,” he muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. “How do you live like this?”
Kofi flashed him a grin over his shoulder. “It becomes part of you. The jungle is like a living thing. If you fight it, it fights you. If you respect it, it will guide you.”
Theo chuckled at Kofi’s words. “I’m not sure how much respect I’m giving the jungle after this. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this hot.”
Luna, always a calm presence in the midst of any chaos, smiled serenely, as if the sweat and exhaustion were mere inconveniences in the grand scheme of things. “It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, pausing to take in the vibrant green landscape around them. “We’re lucky to be here.”
By the time the sun was low on the horizon, casting the jungle in an eerie golden glow, Kofi signaled that it was time to set up camp for the night. The group found a small clearing by a stream, the cool water providing relief from the day’s heat.
The campfire crackled as the group settled in for the night, Kofi showing them how to set up simple shelters and prepare food with minimal supplies. Hermione, ever the prepared one, had brought a few extra provisions in her pack—dried fruits, nuts, and some of the more convenient magical snacks—but they were all too tired to complain about the simplicity of the meal.
As the evening deepened, Harry sat beside the fire, his eyes scanning the jungle around them. The shadows seemed to stretch out forever, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them, hidden in the dense foliage. His thoughts were interrupted when Draco, sitting across the fire from him, spoke up.
“You okay?” Draco asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed Harry’s tense posture.
Harry nodded, though his gaze didn’t leave the shadows. “Yeah. Just... feels a bit too quiet, you know?”
Draco raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, he tossed a small stone into the fire, the crackle of the flames filling the silence.
“Tomorrow’s the hardest day,” Kofi said as he stoked the fire. “We’ll be closer to the cave entrance. But the jungle becomes more unpredictable. Stay close.”
The group nodded in agreement, the weight of their journey ahead pressing down on them. The night was long and restless, with the sounds of the jungle echoing around their camp. The cries of unknown creatures, the rustling of trees in the wind—it all blended into a dissonant melody that kept them awake long into the night.
By the time dawn arrived, with the first rays of light breaking through the dense canopy above, the group was already up, ready to continue their journey. The second day promised to be even more grueling than the first, but they were determined. After all, the cave—and whatever lay inside—was waiting for them. And there was no turning back now.
They packed their things, prepared for the heat, and set out once more, the jungle swallowing them whole as they pressed on toward their mysterious destination.
The morning air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the hum of insects as the group packed their belongings. Sweat already beaded on their foreheads as they began their trek, the jungle still shrouded in mist from the night’s moisture. Harry adjusted his pack, wincing at the ache in his muscles. His legs felt heavy from yesterday's journey, but he pushed forward, knowing that the trek today would be more grueling.
Kofi, ever the expert, led the group once again, his movements swift and practiced. “The jungle grows denser as we move deeper,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the group. “We’ll be closer to the entrance soon, but the trees here hold magic, and it can be unpredictable. Stick together, stay close.”
As they moved forward, the path became even more challenging. The underbrush was thick, with vines and roots stretching out like traps for the unwary. Harry had to watch his every step, each one taking more effort as the heat bore down on them. It was only a few hours into the morning when Draco, who had been unusually quiet, muttered, “I can’t feel my legs anymore.”
Harry glanced at Draco, who was sweating profusely, his pale skin flushed under the heat. “We’re almost there, Draco. Just keep going,” Harry said, a little out of breath himself.
Draco shot him a look of disbelief. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
Kofi paused ahead of them, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “We’re nearing the edge of the jungle,” he said, turning back to them. “It’s the hardest part, but the entrance is close.”
The landscape began to change, the dense trees thinning as they moved into an area that seemed almost unnaturally quiet. The trees were large, towering above them with twisted trunks and thick foliage, but the usual sounds of birds and animals were gone. It felt as though something was holding its breath.
“The magic is strong here,” Kofi murmured, his voice almost reverent. “This place holds secrets.”
The air was heavy with silence, and even Luna, usually so at ease in strange environments, seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. “It’s... unnerving,” she said softly, her gaze sweeping the area around them.
The group continued, moving cautiously now, every step deliberate. Harry could feel the tension in the air, a strange crackling sensation that made the hairs on his neck stand up. They pushed through a thick thicket of vines, and then, just as Kofi had promised, the trees parted, revealing the entrance to the cave.
The entrance itself was massive, almost as if the earth had split open to reveal its dark depths. Thick vines draped over the stone archway, and the air around it seemed to shimmer with an odd energy. The cave mouth was black, an impenetrable void that seemed to suck in the light around it.
“That’s it,” Kofi said, his voice quiet, almost reverent. “The entrance. But be careful. There are ancient wards here. They will test you.”
Harry glanced at Hermione, who was already pulling out her wand, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Wards?” she asked, her voice low. “Are they dangerous?”
Kofi nodded. “Yes, but they’re not meant to hurt you. They test your intentions, your strength, your resolve. Only those who are worthy will be allowed inside.”
Draco stepped forward, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, we’re certainly worthy, aren’t we?” he said, turning to Harry. “A bit of magic never hurt anyone.”
Harry didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the cave entrance. A deep instinct in him told him this was no ordinary test. They weren’t just entering a cave—this was something much more significant. They were about to uncover something that had been hidden for centuries.
Kofi raised his hand. “Stay alert. The first test will come as you approach the mouth of the cave.”
As they stepped closer, the air grew thicker, the humidity rising even more. The ground was uneven beneath their feet, and they had to carefully navigate over jagged rocks and slippery patches. The silence around them deepened, making Harry feel as though they were walking through a tomb.
And then it happened.
A sharp gust of wind rushed through the clearing, swirling around them like a tornado. The trees seemed to bend as though bowing to an unseen force, and for a moment, everything was dark, the light flickering as if the very earth was rejecting them. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest, his senses on high alert. This was it. The test had begun.
“Don’t move!” Kofi shouted, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. He raised his hand, and the air around him rippled with power, a protective aura encircling them. The wind stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake.
Harry stood frozen, heart racing. “What was that?”
Kofi looked around carefully, his expression unreadable. “A test of will. The winds—ancient magic, meant to see how we react under pressure. It looks for weakness, fear. We passed this first one, but stay vigilant.”
Luna, ever the calm one, took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s not the last, is it?”
Kofi shook his head gravely, his gaze unwavering. “No. The cave entrance has been cursed heavily. You’ll need to unravel its hold to enter, and this is as far as I go. If you manage to make it inside, travel to the other end and someone will be waiting to bring you home. If not, I’ll return at sunup to guide you back.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Anything we should be aware of before we go in?”
Kofi’s voice lowered, filled with unease. “The curse is old, ancient even. It has been woven into the very walls of this cave, and it will not release its grip easily. But there is hope, no curse can last forever. The stones inside the cave hold protective charms. When you pull them from their resting places, whisper to them, and tell them to protect your loved ones. They will listen—pour magic into them, and they will become even stronger. The stones are abundant, but use them wisely.”
Luna, her serene demeanor unshaken, stepped forward slightly. “And the water?”
Kofi hesitated, his eyes flicking towards the cave entrance as if sensing something lurking within. “The water within... only drink it if you are certain. It will show you your destiny, where you’re meant to go, what you’re meant to do. But be warned—once you drink it, there is no turning back. It will reveal your fate, and you cannot unsee what it shows you.”
“Sure of what?” Harry asked, the weight of the warning pressing down on him.
“Sure of the path you seek,” Kofi replied. “Only drink it if you are truly ready to face the consequences of that knowledge.”
The group exchanged wary glances, but nodded nonetheless. With a final look toward the guide, they approached the cave’s gaping mouth.
As they stepped into the darkened cavern, the air thickened around them. The temperature dropped noticeably, sending a chill through their bones. Harry felt it immediately, a subtle sense of magic pressing against his skin like a whisper from the past.
“Stay close,” Draco muttered, his voice barely audible, the flicker of his wand casting dancing shadows on the jagged walls of the cave.
Luna remained undisturbed, her eyes taking in the beauty of the cave. “It’s... breathtaking,” she said softly, but even her voice held a note of uncertainty.
They ventured deeper, each step heavier than the last. The walls of the cave were covered in ancient runes—arcane symbols so old that even Harry could feel the ancient power radiating from them. A cold draft seemed to swirl around them, as if the cave itself was watching.
At last, they came to a massive stone archway, its surface marred by dark, twisting symbols. The air hummed with a faint, unnatural energy.
“This is it,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper, though his heart raced in his chest.
Draco stepped forward, his wand held tightly in his hand. “We need to break the curse here, before we can move further.”
Luna raised her wand, her voice firm. “Let’s begin. Everyone, concentrate.”
Theo, already scanning the archway, began sketching symbols in the air with his wand—runes that glowed faintly before vanishing. His face was set with determination. “If we combine our efforts, we should be able to break the binding. But it won’t be easy.”
Draco, pulling out a small parchment, quickly began to draw intricate runes on the stone floor beneath their feet, murmuring in low Latin. “Lux et umbra.”
Harry stepped closer to the archway, feeling a strong pull, like an invisible force trying to draw him in. His hand shook slightly as he reached for the stone. “Here goes nothing.”
As he spoke, a low growl vibrated through the cave, and the ground trembled beneath them. The runes on the archway pulsed ominously, and suddenly, with a terrifying roar, the stone itself seemed to come to life. Massive creatures, made entirely of jagged rock and glowing with an eerie, molten light, emerged from the walls.
“Not good,” Draco snarled, instinctively casting a Shield Charm just as one of the creatures lunged at him. The beast’s massive claws scraped against the magical barrier, sending a shockwave through the cave.
“Protego Maxima!” Theo shouted, casting a more powerful shield, but the creatures were relentless, their massive stone bodies moving with terrifying speed and strength.
Luna, already moving, waved her wand in a sharp arc. “Impedimenta!” The spell hit one of the rock creatures, sending it stumbling back, but it quickly recovered, its glowing eyes narrowing in anger.
“Focus!” Harry shouted. “We need to break the curse first, or we’ll never make it through.”
Draco nodded grimly, muttering incantations under his breath. The runes he had drawn on the floor began to glow brighter, but the creatures pressed forward, forcing them into a defensive position.
Harry raised his wand high. “Reducto!” A bolt of red light shot from his wand, smashing into one of the creatures. It staggered back, but the stone was far too thick and resistant for the spell to do any lasting damage.
“Defodio!” Luna shouted, carving through the air with her wand as the stone creature’s arm split in two, but more of the creatures emerged from the walls, faster than before.
Theo began chanting rapidly, his voice rising above the chaos. “Fiat lux! Fiat lux!” The runes on the ground flared, sending light into the cave, pushing back the darkness. The creatures howled in agony as the light burned through their stone skin.
Draco’s voice joined in, a fierce echo of his words, as he added, “Perpetua et immutabilis!”
The combined magic of their chants created an explosion of light, shattering the stone creatures into thousands of pieces. The sound was deafening, the cave vibrating as if it had been struck by a powerful shockwave.
But even as the creatures crumbled, the cursed archway remained intact, the dark symbols still swirling on its surface. The ground beneath their feet seemed to rumble, and the air grew heavier.
“Keep pushing,” Theo urged, sweat streaming down his face. “We’re close, but we need more power!”
Draco’s eyes were locked on the archway. “We need to finish it, or we won’t make it through.”
Luna, eyes wide and determined, joined her voice to the others, speaking words of power that seemed to vibrate the very walls. “Exsisto lux in tenebris!”
With a final, explosive surge of magic, the combined force of their spells struck the archway. The cursed runes shattered, disintegrating into dust that was swept away by a powerful gust of wind. The earth beneath their feet stilled, the oppressive weight lifting from the air as the curse was finally broken.
The cave fell silent. The stone creatures were gone, the oppressive dark magic that had twisted the air was undone.
Harry stood, panting heavily, his heart still racing. “We... we did it.”
Luna, her face calm but filled with a quiet satisfaction, smiled faintly. “The curse is broken.”
Theo wiped his brow, exhaustion settling over him. “Good work, everyone. That was close.”
Draco was already moving forward, stepping cautiously through the now-clear archway. “Let’s go!”