South Wales, on the fringes of the city's industrial wasteland. Here stood a relic of the 19th century: a red-brick clock factory, abandoned and decaying. Ivy, like grasping fingers, clawed at the exterior walls, while the broken windows were sealed with rotting boards. Above the entrance, a faded warning sign served as a grim sentinel: "No Entry!" The factory, seemingly on the verge of collapse, was shunned by all, save for the occasional "sewer rat" seeking refuge in its shadows.
"Is that sign enchanted with a Muggle-Repelling Charm, I wonder?"
The assembled group stopped a short distance from the abandoned factory, each seeking what little cover the surroundings afforded.
"The residents here are a pair of Dark wizard brothers, Samuel and Isolde Carpenter," Scrimgeour whispered, his voice carefully modulated. "Both are considered highly dangerous. While other Dark wizards occasionally pass through, only the Carpenter brothers are known to inhabit this place consistently."
Moody grunted. "Intel suggests it's just the two of them at present. That's why we were willing to bring you whelps along."
Scrimgeour, Moody, Kingsley – three elite Aurors – plus Tonks, an apprentice, and Nagini, a professor whose involvement remained an unknown variable. Without the "little ones" tagging along, we'd be walking into a slaughter.
"Kingsley, you and Tonks watch the rear," Scrimgeour barked, his orders crisp and precise. Turning to Moody after issuing instructions to Tonks, he added, "Alastor, lead the way."
Logically, splitting into smaller teams of two or three would have been the sounder tactical choice, reducing the risk of ambush and a complete massacre. But this was about appearances; they had to protect Harry and the others. Even though he's watching us from the shadows, we can't just let Voldemort have his way. Have to at least put on a show…
"Stay close."
As Scrimgeour and Moody circled the abandoned clockwork factory, Kingsley echoed the instruction, urging his charges to follow.
No one questioned the decision to avoid the main gate; even Luna Lovegood knew that the entrance would be the most heavily guarded.
...
Rustle—
A small, emaciated figure darted from the undergrowth. A mangy black cat, its fur dull and lifeless, stopped to glare with eerie, baleful eyes at the group concealed in the distance before darting away in the opposite direction, towards the abandoned clockwork factory.
Unseen, perched in a nearby tree, a faint, transparent figure watched its passage.
An unregistered Animagus?
...
"Mr. Shackleton, are we really going to sneak in like this?" Hermione whispered, casting a doubtful glance at Kingsley ahead. "Wouldn't it be better to use a Disillusionment Charm or an Invisibility Cloak?"
"No." Kingsley shook his head. "There are too many known methods of detecting Disillusionment Charms and Invisibility Cloaks. It's a pity we don't have a crowd to blend into; that would've been preferable."
He frowned. "Besides, we've already been made."
"What?" Tonks, ever eager, voiced her surprise. "But how?"
"You'll understand after a few more missions, Tonks," Kingsley said, grinning wryly at his junior. "That's the intuition of a veteran Auror. Someone was watching us earlier. Tom and the others are already aware."
Malfoy looked puzzled. "Then why are we still skulking around? What's the point of hiding if they already know we're here?"
"To avoid being ambushed," Kingsley explained patiently. "Moving carefully, using cover, will increase our chances of survival."
Cedric nodded in understanding. "What if they've set up an ambush in these bunkers?"
"That's why Tom and the others are taking point."
"..."
The group advanced in silence.
Soon, Scrimgeour and Moody located a possible entry point: an abandoned freight tunnel, crudely boarded up.
An exchange of glances passed between the two veteran Aurors. Scrimgeour casually blasted the boarded entrance with an Explosion Charm, while Moody shattered a nearby window and slipped inside.
Once Moody signaled that the area was secure, Scrimgeour followed.
...
Inside the clockwork factory, the remnants of the abandoned production line lay in disarray. The stench of decay, corpses, and rancid potions permeated the air, creating a nauseating atmosphere. Scraps of magical creatures, strange plants, and arcane metals were scattered haphazardly.
The Carpenter brothers had survived for so long not merely due to their personal power, but because each possessed a unique skill. Isolde, the younger, was a master potioneer, while Samuel, the elder, excelled in alchemy. Together, they had managed to forge tenuous alliances within the Dark wizarding community; even some Death Eaters counted among their associates.
Unfortunately, those connections would prove useless today, and even more so in the future.
"They're not here," Scrimgeour announced after completing his sweep, meeting Moody in the center of the cavernous room.
The others, led by Kingsley, entered the abandoned factory.
"They're likely downstairs," Moody rasped, tapping the floor with his gnarled cane.
"The steam engine room?" Scrimgeour nodded towards the exterior of the factory. "You think that thing outside..."
"Let's go down and check."
"..."
Malfoy was utterly bewildered. Wait, how did they even figure that out? I don't understand any of this!
Cedric, however, occasionally nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
Harry's face was alight with interest.
Cassandra, meanwhile, was more focused on the detritus scattered around them. She picked up a half-empty jar of lacewing flies, examining it with a discerning eye.
"These are..."
Hermione walked over, examining the jar in Cassandra's hand. She glanced at the scattered potion ingredients—the broken stems of Red Dafodil, the small bottle of purple Horlump venom on the table – and her eyes widened with realization. "Throat Gas?"
---
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