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Chapter 40: A Perilous Invitation
Days at Hogwarts slipped by with a deceptive calm for Elian. He'd braced for an imminent strike from Voldemort's followers, but none came. The castle's ancient walls and Dumbledore's formidable reputation were clearly still a deterrent. Yet, the quiet felt heavy, like the lull before a storm. He knew, with cold certainty, that eyes were watching from the shadows, waiting for a single, careless misstep.
In the meantime, life went on. He attended classes, endured Umbridge's decrees, and devoted his evenings to teaching Luna and Hermione the Mystic Arts. Their progress was astonishing. Luna approached it with a dreamy intuition that seemed to bypass logic entirely, while Hermione dissected each principle with razor-sharp intellect, her understanding deepening daily. As they grew more proficient, their awe of him—and their silent conviction that he was the 'traveler' from Trelawney's prophecy—only intensified. Elian neither confirmed nor denied it, focusing instead on guiding their hands through the gestures, a process that often led to exasperated swats from Hermione when his 'corrections' lingered too long.
Just as he was settling into this strange, tense rhythm, the system delivered a new directive. It appeared without warning, as if it had grown tired of his passive caution.
[A Supreme Mage is forged in conflict. Growth demands risk, and true power is born from facing annihilation.]
[Bonus Mission: Create an opportunity. Allow your pursuers a clear chance to ambush you.]
[Reward: The Images of Ikonn.]
Elian stared at the words in his mind, first in disbelief, then with dawning, horrified comprehension. Was the system trying to get him killed? Actively setting himself up as bait for Lucius Malfoy and whoever else Voldemort had sent?
But the reward… The Images of Ikonn. Illusory duplicates. Self-sustaining copies capable of independent magic. It was a power of immense versatility and tactical brilliance. The temptation was a physical ache. The mission was suicidal, but the prize was a game-changer.
He was trapped. He couldn't refuse, yet fulfilling it meant walking openly into a trap. The problem consumed him. He grew distracted in class, skipped the D.A. meetings, and made vague excuses to Luna and Hermione. He needed a plan, a way to make the ambush seem natural, inevitable.
After days of fruitless plotting, he turned to the one resource he had for cunning strategy: Hermione Granger.
At lunch in the Great Hall, surrounded by the comforting noise of clattering plates and chatter, he leaned casually into Hermione's shoulder.
"Hypothetically," he began, aiming for a light, academic tone. "If, say, Death Eaters had a specific interest in someone—targeting them, I mean—how do you think they'd try to get to them here? At Hogwarts?"
The question landed like a dungbomb in the pumpkin juice.
Ron froze, a spoonful of trifle halfway to his mouth. "Wha—Elian, did you hear something? You have to tell Dumbledore!"
Hermione, about to laugh off Ron's literal-mindedness, paused. She studied Elian's face, the forced casualness in his eyes. She knew his secrets now, knew he operated on a different, dangerous level. Her smile faded into suspicion. "Why are you asking that?"
Elian backpedaled quickly, waving a hand. "It's just a hypothetical! A thought experiment. Like, if they wanted Harry, for instance." He gestured to Harry, who was now watching him intently. "Where would be the most likely place for them to try something?"
The table fell into thoughtful silence. It was a grim puzzle. Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's watch, felt impregnable.
Harry frowned, his scar a faint white line. "It's almost impossible inside the castle," he muttered. "The wards, the teachers…"
Hermione nodded, her brow furrowed. "Unless they had inside help, which is… unlikely." She shot a glance at the Slytherin table, then shook her head. "Or unless the target left the grounds."
Elian sighed, feigning defeat. "Right. See? Hogwarts is the safest place. It was just a random thought." He picked up his fork, the weight of the impossible mission settling heavier on his shoulders.
But then Harry spoke again, his voice low and certain.
"Actually," Harry said, his green eyes distant, as if seeing a memory painted on the air. "There is one place. A place that's part of Hogwarts, but… not. Where the rules are different."
He looked at Elian, then at Hermione and Ron, his expression grim.
"Hogsmeade."
(End of Chapter)
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