Chapter 2
The air at the dockyard was thick with the scent of salt and oil, the distant hum of ship engines blending with the occasional shouts of workers. Nagini slithered silently along the damp pavement, her body concealed beneath layers of carefully woven disillusionment charms. Harry, wrapped in a sling secured to her back by magic, remained warm and hidden under the same enchantments. His breathing was steady, his small body relaxed against her scales.
She had spent hours searching, gliding unnoticed through the labyrinth of towering shipping containers and stacks of cargo, scanning the transport schedules posted on the dockmaster’s board. Most ships were bound for Europe, Africa, or the Americas, but finally, she had found what she needed—a freighter departing for Mumbai within the hour.
Perfect.
Moving with quiet precision, she made her way toward the vessel, careful to avoid the workers bustling around the loading zone. Muggle sailors and dockhands paid no mind to the shifting air around them, unaware of the massive serpent weaving unseen through their midst. But it wasn’t the Muggles she was worried about.
Wizards were here.
She caught sight of them near the customs office—three men in plain Muggle clothing, their postures too stiff, their eyes scanning the crowds with sharp intent. Aurors, most likely. Their presence confirmed what she had already suspected. The Ministry knew Harry was missing.
She pressed herself against the cold steel of a cargo container, willing herself to stillness as the wizards moved closer. One of them—a thin man with dark hair—pulled out a pocket watch, tapping it with his wand.
“Still nothing,” he muttered to his companions.
“They could be anywhere by now,” another grumbled. “This is a waste of time. If the kid was taken out of Britain, it wasn’t by boat.”
“Orders are orders,” the first replied. “They want every major port checked. Just keep looking.”
Nagini did not breathe, did not move. She had masked her magical signature well, but paranoia was a survival instinct she had never quite abandoned. Slowly, carefully, she slithered backward, moving along the edge of the dock toward the ship’s loading ramp.
One of the workers shouted something, and the Aurors turned, distracted. That was her chance.
With silent precision, she slipped through the shadows, her massive form weaving through crates and barrels. The ship loomed ahead, its gangway briefly unguarded as a dockhand stepped away to check the cargo manifest. With one final, fluid motion, she crossed the distance and vanished into the freighter’s hold just as the worker returned.
Safe. For now.
Inside, the cargo hold was dimly lit, the scent of wood, metal, and spices heavy in the air. Crates of goods were stacked high, some marked with shipping codes, others with faded foreign script. She moved deeper into the shadows, curling around a space near the far wall where she could remain undisturbed.
Only when she was certain they were alone did she release the disillusionment charms. The air shimmered, revealing her coils and the small child resting securely against her back.
They had done it.
They were leaving England behind.
With a satisfied hiss, Nagini adjusted Harry’s position, ensuring he was still warm and comfortable. As the ship’s engines rumbled to life and the vibrations beneath them signaled departure, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in days.
India awaited.
The Ministry of Magic’s Auror Department with the DMLE was never quiet, but today, the tension in the air was palpable. Papers shuffled, boots clanked against the stone floors, and whispered conversations hummed like static in the background. The search for Harry Potter was underway, and every Auror knew that failure was not an option.
In a dimly lit office deep within the department, Senior Auror Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody sat behind his desk, his mismatched eyes—one normal, one a whirling, enchanted blue orb—fixed on the three young Aurors standing before him. His face, lined with scars and hardened by years of battle, was unreadable as he listened to their report. Beside him, his trainee, Amelia Bones, stood with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes betraying her concern.
“Well?” Moody’s voice was low, gruff. “Tell me you found something useful.”
The three Muggleborn Aurors, freshly recruited from the war’s aftermath, exchanged uneasy glances before one of them, a wiry man named David Fletcher, stepped forward.
“No sign of Potter at the docks, sir,” he admitted. “We checked every ship bound for anywhere outside of Britain, even the ones heading for the continent. If the kid was taken out of the country, they didn’t use the ports.”
Moody grunted, his enchanted eye spinning wildly as if seeking something unseen. “And you’re certain of that?”
Fletcher hesitated for only a second. “As certain as we can be, sir. Whoever took him didn’t leave magical traces. Either they’re damn good, or they used a method we weren’t looking for.”
Moody’s fingers tapped against the wooden desk in thought, his expression unreadable. Across from him, Amelia Bones frowned. “What about the Muggle authorities?” she asked. “Any reports of suspicious activity?”
The second Auror, a stocky woman named Marissa Cole, shook her head. “Nothing specific. The Muggles are as clueless as we are. But…” She trailed off, exchanging another glance with her companions.
Moody’s good eye narrowed. “Spit it out.”
The third Auror, a dark-skinned wizard named Raj Patel, cleared his throat. “It’s not direct evidence, sir, but I did overhear something odd while asking around.” He hesitated, then continued, “Some dockworkers mentioned rumors of a massive snake sighted near London a few days before You-Know-Who fell. At first, I thought it was just Muggle nonsense—some drunken sailor’s tale—but a few of them swore up and down that it was real. A serpent longer than a man is tall, moving through the streets like a shadow.”
Moody’s expression didn’t change, but Amelia stiffened beside him.
“A snake?” she repeated. “That’s… unusual.”
Moody’s fingers stopped tapping. His gaze was sharp, calculating. “You’re saying someone saw a bloody snake slithering around London, right before the Dark Lord was taken down?”
Patel nodded. “Yes, sir. And the way they described it—it wasn’t normal. It moved like it was flying, and no one could track where it went. Some of the Muggle witnesses claimed it just vanished into thin air.”
The room fell silent.
Moody leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. His enchanted eye whirled, locking onto Patel. “That’s not Muggle nonsense,” he muttered. “That’s a bloody Maledictus.”
Amelia’s eyes widened slightly. “You think it could be connected?”
Moody grunted. “A Dark wizard falls, and days before that, a bloody great snake is seen near the capital? And now Potter’s missing? Coincidence isn’t a word I like to use, Bones.” He pushed himself up from his chair, grabbing his staff. “I want every file we have on known Maledictuses. Any reports of one operating in Britain, any connections to the Dark Lord. If this is our lead, we follow it.”
The three Aurors nodded quickly, already moving toward the door.
Moody turned to Amelia. “Get me anything the Unspeakables have on blood curses. If that was a Maledictus, and if she took the boy, I want to know why.”
Amelia swallowed her unease and nodded.
As the Aurors hurried out, Moody’s expression darkened. He didn’t believe in accidents. Something—or someone—had taken Harry Potter.
And if there was a serpent involved, then the game had only just begun.
As his trainee’s all knew “Constant Vigilance!”
The cargo hold of the ship was dimly lit, the rhythmic hum of the engine a constant presence beneath them. Nagini lay curled in a secluded corner, her coils forming a secure nest around Harry, who rested comfortably against her smooth scales. He was wide awake, tiny fingers occasionally grasping at the air as he listened with rapt attention.
His fascination pleased her.
She had always been alone in her ability to speak the language of serpents, but now, with this child, she had someone who understood. Someone who listened.
Her voice came as a low, melodic hiss, the words winding through the air like a whispered spell.
“Thus, swiftly and surely, the primeval forces of the jungle closed upon the cabin in the clearing. The snakes slithered unseen in the undergrowth, the great cats watched from the trees, and above them all, the apes moved as one, their kingdom undisturbed.”
Harry let out a quiet, gurgling hiss of his own, his bright green eyes shining with delight. He did not fully understand the words, not yet, but he felt them. The cadence, the rhythm, the soothing nature of her voice—it all held his attention.
She continued, slowly and deliberately, letting the jungle of the story unfold around them.
“And so the child, alone but for the beasts of the wild, grew not in the cradle of men, but in the embrace of the forest, his lullabies sung by the rustling leaves and the distant roars of the hunt.”
A fitting tale.
As she spoke, her mind was elsewhere, carefully considering their escape. They were drawing closer to India with each passing hour, and she could not afford mistakes. The ship was large, but Muggles were observant in their own way, and slipping away unnoticed would require careful planning.
Her disillusionment charm had served her well thus far, and it would be her first line of defense. With both herself and Harry invisible, they could move unseen through the ship. The featherweight charm, combined with a controlled levitation spell, would allow her to move without making a sound, gliding through the air as if she were nothing more than a shadow.
But what if something went wrong?
She needed alternatives.
Option One: The Cargo Nets…She had seen the way the ship was unloaded at port—crates were lifted by large nets and swung onto the docks. If she timed it correctly, she could slip into one of these nets, hiding among the cargo as it was transferred. Risky, but feasible.
Option Two: The Mooring Ropes…The thick ropes used to secure the ship to the dock could serve as an escape route. Once night fell and the crew’s attention was elsewhere, she could slither down, unseen, into the shadows of the port.
Option Three: The Lifeboats…Muggle ships carried emergency lifeboats, stored along the sides of the deck. If she could detach one and guide it away under cover of darkness, she and Harry could reach shore unnoticed.
She would decide when the time came. Flexibility was key.
For now, she returned to the book, lowering her head so that Harry could nestle against the warmth of her scales. His little hands rested against her, his soft hissing noises slowing as sleep began to claim him.
“Thus, the jungle whispered to him, teaching him its secrets, and he listened as one of its own.”
Nagini’s voice softened.
She would teach this child, too. Not just the ways of the jungle, but the ways of survival.
For he was hers.
And she would protect him—no matter what it took.
Minerva McGonagall’s hands trembled as she unfolded the morning edition of the Daily Prophet, her sharp eyes scanning the bold, glaring headline.
THE BOY-WHO-LIVED MISSING!
By Tadnal Rider
In a shocking revelation, the Ministry of Magic has confirmed that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has disappeared from his relatives’ home at Number Four, Privet Drive. Aurors have been dispatched across the country, but as of yet, no leads have surfaced regarding the young wizard’s whereabouts. Senior Auror Alastor Moody, heading the investigation, has refused to comment, but sources within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement report growing concerns that this may be the work of surviving Death Eaters—or worse, a foreign power seeking to use the boy for their own ends. With tensions high and the public demanding answers, the Ministry remains in a state of uproar, scrambling to uncover the truth behind the disappearance of Britain’s most famous child.
Minerva barely managed to keep from crushing the paper in her grip.
Damn you, Albus.
Her lips pressed into a thin, furious line as she forced herself to set the newspaper down, smoothing out the wrinkles where her fingers had clenched too tightly. She could feel her Scottish temper rising, a heat burning in her chest as she fought the urge to storm straight to Dumbledore’s office and give the man the verbal lashing of a lifetime.
This—this disaster—was exactly what she had feared.
She had told Albus it was a terrible idea to leave the boy with those dreadful Muggles. She had warned him, pleaded with him to reconsider, but no—he had insisted it was for the best. That it was necessary for Harry’s safety, for the “greater good.”
And now, the boy was gone.
Minerva inhaled sharply through her nose, willing herself to remain calm. She could not—would not—add to the firestorm Albus was already enduring. No doubt the Ministry, the Wizengamot, and half the wizarding world were already tearing into him for his failure to safeguard the child.
For once, he would have to suffer the consequences of his own arrogance without her interference.
But oh, when she next saw him…
She would make sure he felt every ounce of her fury.
Sirius Black nearly dropped his mug of firewhiskey when his eyes caught the headline in the Daily Prophet.
THE BOY-WHO-LIVED MISSING!
His heart pounded in his chest as he skimmed through the article, each word hammering into him like a curse. Harry—his godson—was gone. Vanished without a trace. The Ministry was scrambling, Dumbledore was likely in the middle of a political firestorm, and the Aurors were chasing shadows.
For the first time in days, his mind cut through the grief, the rage, the guilt that had consumed him since James and Lily’s deaths. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him.
He had been about to throw his life away.
The moment he had seen Peter alive on that crowded Muggle street, all he had thought about was revenge. He had wanted to tear the rat limb from limb, to make him pay for what he had done. If he had acted on that impulse, he would have ended up in Azkaban before anyone could hear the truth.
But Harry was missing.
And that meant he could not afford to be reckless.
He needed to think.
His mind, once sharp enough to earn him a place among the best Aurors of his generation, finally began working again. He was still technically an Auror, even if he had ignored protocol in his grief. He still had authority. And if he played this right…
Peter Pettigrew would be in a Ministry holding cell before the day was out.
—Somewhere in London—
Sirius moved like a shadow, his wand tight in his grip as he stalked his prey. Peter was scurrying through the alleyways in his filthy little rat form, slipping through the cracks between buildings, desperately trying to stay hidden. But Sirius knew him too well. He had once called this thing a friend.
He caught sight of a tiny movement near a drainpipe.
Sneaky little Rat bastard.
Sirius flicked his wand. “Stupefy!”
A bolt of red light shot forward, striking the rat mid-scurry. In an instant, Peter was flung back, stunned and unmoving. Before the spell could wear off, Sirius flicked his wand again. First the animagus reversal spell, silently cast before growling.
“Petrificus Totalus.”
Peter’s limp rat form began to shift, limbs twisting unnaturally as he transformed back into his human shape. His beady eyes darted in panic, his mouth opening as if to scream, but the full-body bind held firm.
Sirius exhaled, steadying himself. No time to gloat. No time for anger.
Time to end this.
With a sharp turn, he grabbed the paralyzed traitor and, with a loud crack, apparated directly into the DMLE’s holding cells.
The moment he landed, alarms flared.
Aurors burst into the room, wands raised, spells already on their lips. Sirius held up his hands, stepping away from Peter’s frozen form.
“I’m Sirius Black, Auror,” he said loudly, making sure everyone heard him. He pointed at Peter’s rigid body. “This is Peter Pettigrew. He’s a traitor, a Death Eater, and the one who betrayed James and Lily Potter.” His voice hardened. “I have proof.”
The Aurors hesitated. Then, Moody himself stormed into the room, his magical eye whirling, locking onto the scene in an instant. His real eye widened slightly.
“Bloody hell,” Moody muttered. His gaze snapped to Sirius. “You’d better pray you’re right, Black.”
Sirius let out a sharp breath, his pulse finally slowing.
He was. And soon, the whole world would know it.