Chapter 118. Blue Gem and Parchment
Nearly half of the werewolf group could speak English.
In fact, these werewolves were not the savage brutes that Adrian Wesson's preconceived notions imagined.
After a short conversation, Wesson learned that they were actually a group pushed to the margins of society, huddling together for warmth deep in the forest.
All the same, it made sense. If they were the vicious sort like Fenrir Greyback, they would never hide away in such a deserted place.
Everyone here had come precisely so they wouldn't harm anyone else.
That gave Wesson a touch of goodwill towards them. When he asked how they managed to survive in this primeval forest, Kasa smiled. "We have our own supply lines. Honestly, living here's no different from living outside. If you need supplies, walk south and you'll hit a large lake. Keep along the lakeshore to the east for a bit and you'll see a small village—that's where we live. If you need to leave, we even have a fireplace connected to the Floo Network."
There was pride in his voice, laced with bitterness.
It seemed these werewolves hadn't cut themselves off completely from society.
Wesson decided to follow them and have a look at the village.
After ten-odd minutes walking through the forest, the view opened up.
A broad clearing lay ahead. A swift river cut through it, glittering with ripples in the sunlight. The settlement sat on the high ground by the riverbank.
Once inside, Wesson was surprised to find that it looked less like a village and more like a small town.
Houses rose in a neat scatter; the roads were clean and tidy.
There seemed to be no difference from the small towns outside.
"Most locals know this place," Kasa said helplessly when he saw Wesson's surprise. "They just don't want to come near. You know why, sir."
"How marvellous," Wesson said, taking in his surroundings with curiosity.
That there was such a place hidden in Albania's dark forest struck him as remarkable.
Truly, you see different sights when you travel.
When they reached the central square, Kasa said, "Feel free to have a look around, sir. If you want to use the fireplace, go to that pub on my left. But the town will be quieter today—everyone's resting in their cellars. Most werewolves are left weakened after they transform."
Wesson nodded.
After Kasa and his companions left, Wesson was the only one there.
He walked slowly along a cobblestone path and, before he knew it, had reached the edge of the settlement.
In an open space he saw a stooped old man feeding a flock of crows.
"Caw—caw—"
The cawing rang in Wesson's ears, needling his nerves with a touch of irritation.
The old man wore a faded dark-green cloak; his grey-white hair bristled in a messy thicket.
With callused hands he tossed grains into the air while dozens of crows wheeled around him.
Yet… wasn't that number of crows a bit much?
"Good day, sir." Wesson stepped closer and offered a polite greeting.
But as he approached, the crows all turned their heads to him in unison, a strange light glinting in their eyes.
Hearing Wesson, the old man looked over and asked in mild surprise, "Hello, child. You're a new face—just arrived?"
"I'm only passing through," Wesson explained with a nod.
"Not many like you," the old man said, then turned back to feeding the crows.
Just as Wesson was about to leave, an unusually large crow swooped in from who-knew-where and flapped down in front of him.
While Wesson was still frowning in puzzlement—
"Caw!" The crow let out a harsh cry and dropped a deep-blue gem at Wesson's feet. Immediately after, another crow dived and threw down a roll of yellowed parchment.
"What is…?"
Wesson picked up the gem and the parchment and looked to the old man feeding the crows.
"These crows are very clever," the old man said, an odd look flickering in his eyes. "They've lingered here for a very long time, as if they were waiting for someone."
Just then, the previously quiet flock burst into agitation. Every crow beat its wings at once and, in short order, vanished from Wesson's sight.
The old man, his feeding target gone, looked at Wesson and shrugged. "Looks like the one they were waiting for has come."
Wesson, holding the gem and the parchment, asked the old man in confusion, "They were waiting for me?"
But the old man only waved a hand. "I come to feed them in my spare time. I don't know anything."
With that, he leaned on his stick and strolled back toward the settlement.
Wesson felt he wasn't lying. He lowered his gaze to the gem and parchment in his hands.
The parchment looked very old; Wesson was certain it was much older than he was.
A thin dark-blue cord bound the roll. It looked ordinary enough.
Yet when Wesson tried to untie it, it didn't budge.
Stranger still, when he touched the cord with his wand to cast a spell, sparks sprayed from the tip—
But the cord remained intact.
"How odd…"
Wesson muttered.
There must have been very strong magic on that cord; for the moment, he couldn't find a way to open it.
So Wesson turned to the blue gem.
He felt certain he'd seen a gem like this somewhere before, but he couldn't place it.
In any case, it felt very familiar.
Why had the crows given him a gem and a parchment?
Surely it wasn't because of his overwhelming charm.
Turning the gem over in his hands as he walked and pondered, Wesson made his way back to his tent.
Thankfully, with the Four-Point Spell—"Point Me"—he hadn't lost his way.
The Four-Point Spell was a magical version of a compass, causing the caster's wand to point due north.
But when Wesson got back to camp, something unexpected happened.
Threads of silvery-white filament began streaming from the blue gem in his hand; only then did he realise that, at some point, a hairline crack had opened in the stone.
The silvery threads slowly gathered in the air and finally took the shape of a woman.
That face…
Wesson was startled to see that she looked exactly like the person he'd seen in Nicolas Flamel's crystal ball—black hair, black eyes, a faint smile.
The woman's sharp gaze fell on Wesson, and he tensed at once.
But she only gave him a slight nod, then slowly dissipated in mid-air.
She left nothing behind and took nothing with her.
Wesson's eyes went back to the gem.
Within the blue stone, wisps of silvery substance had appeared—cloud-like, neither gas nor liquid.
As far as Wesson knew, only one thing ever took on that uncanny state, and that was—
Memory.
Which meant the gem contained a memory.
Unfortunately, Wesson didn't have the equipment on hand to view it.
Perhaps once he returned to Hogwarts he could borrow the Headmaster's Pensieve.
The secret of the blue gem and the parchment should lie within that very memory.
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