Chapter 41

“Instant noodles are a kind of tasty Muggle food, Mr. Orlens,” Hermione explained, smiling.

Anne didn’t wake until nearly dinnertime. Hermione had stayed by her bedside the entire time, keeping a quiet watch. The moment Anne stirred, Hermione hurried to call Orlens.

Half-awake and still groggy, Anne barely had time to blink before the old healer made her drink several potions in a row.

Only after she was thoroughly “watered” did she finally blink her way back to awareness.

Fortunately, Hermione was ready with a piece of fruit candy, her beaded bag had been returned at noon by Aaron.

“What time is it now?” Anne asked, leaning weakly against the headboard. The sky beyond the window was gray and heavy, either about to rain or sink into dusk.

“Five ten in the afternoon,” Hermione replied.

Anne smacked her lips, rolling the candy on her tongue.

“Do you still have that peach preserve? The one in syrup?”

Hermione laughed softly, drew her wand, and fished a can of yellow peaches from her bag. She paused.

“Are you sure you can eat this now?”

“Of course I can!” Anne said, eyes lighting up like a hopeful child staring at a dessert.

Hearing this, Orlens leaned closer to check. Anne tilted her face up at him, pleadingly.

“I really want some…”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Orlens chuckled. “Just don’t overdo it.”

Anne beamed. Hermione spooned out a slice and held it to her lips.

As he packed up, Orlens added casually, “By the way, your Aunt Diana will be here around six.”

“Ah?” Anne almost choked on the syrup.

“You dodged her yesterday, but not today,” the old healer said cheerfully before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Anne slumped back against the pillows with a groan, swallowing her peach in defeat.

“I’ll stay with you,” Hermione said gently. “Don’t worry.”

After finishing the peaches, the two began chatting idly, about everything and nothing. When the topic turned to the house, Anne proudly explained how she’d managed to buy it from a Muggle couple emigrating to America, at a ridiculously low price thanks to her “sharp business instincts.”

Hermione noticed Anne’s coughing had lessened and felt her spirits lift as well.

But warmth never lasts long.

A knock on the door, followed by Aaron’s anxious voice.

“Can I come in?”

Anne looked at Hermione. Hermione answered, “You can.”

Aaron entered, holding a stack of documents.

“Anne, A-plus emergency case. I need your signature and seal. I’ve written my recommendations, once you approve, they can act.”

“Hermione, the seal’s in my robe pocket,” Anne said, she’d been told to avoid unnecessary magic. Hermione nodded and went to retrieve it.

“What happened this time?” Anne asked, scanning the top page as Aaron handed it over

“Which branch?”

“Two of them, and the mercenary unit as well,” Aaron said grimly.

Anne frowned and flipped through the first document quickly. Her brows rose.

“The Death Eaters are hitting back this hard?” Then she reached the later pages and exhaled sharply. “Who leaked the information about the four that died?”

“Black market rumor mill,” Aaron said darkly. “They’ve been selling Order intel since last week.”

“‘Since last week’? They’ve been at it for months,” Anne muttered with disdain. “Easy money from both sides, why wouldn’t they?” She scanned Aaron’s written comments, added a precise line of her own, then signed and stamped. The fiery red emblem of a phoenix shimmered briefly on the parchment, the Order’s dispatch signal.

Anne turned to the next file, signed, stamped, done. Then she opened the third one, paused, her eyes sharpening into that familiar Skool-like focus.
“This one’s from yesterday. Why am I only seeing it now? You know the mercenary division requires immediate response.”

Aaron hesitated. “My fault. I thought I could handle it on my own, but—”

“Sorry, Uncle,” Anne interrupted, softening. “I slipped into Skool mode.”
She scanned the file in one go, calm again. “No real problem. They’re just raising their price.”

She was about to sign when another knock came.

All three turned toward the door.

A cool, unmistakably stern voice sounded. “I’m coming in.”

The door opened, and shut sharply behind. Diana stepped inside. Her face, already cold, darkened completely when she saw the scene.

“Aaron,” she said icily, “you brought the Order documents here?”

“Wait!” Anne shot upright, wincing. “Aunt Diana, this one couldn’t wait!”

Diana’s eyes were sharp as blades. She looked like she’d already had a rough day at the Ministry. “Anne, I haven’t even begun to—”

BANG!

The door burst open again.

Harry stumbled in, one hand pressed to his scarred forehead, grimacing in pain.
“He’s got it! He knows!” he shouted breathlessly. “Anne, we have to!”

“Sorry, Hermione! I tried to stop him, but his face—” Ron panted as he followed, equally shaken, and then froze mid-step at the sight of the room.

A heavy silence fell.

“…Wow,” Anne said first, breaking it with a wry smile. “Trouble really does have a sense of timing.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Aaron, Aunt Diana,” she said quickly, “could you give us a moment?”

Aaron nodded at once. Diana frowned, reluctant.

“I’ll explain everything in a bit,” Anne promised.

When the door closed, she slumped back, hand pressed lightly over her ribs. Hermione moved closer, standing guard beside her, brows furrowed. Harry took a breath, still trembling from the vision.

“I saw it!” he said urgently. “He’s holding it, the Elder Wand! Bloody hell, I should’ve known! Last night I saw him meet someone, I didn’t realize who until now. It was Grindelwald! He thought Grindelwald still had the wand, but he didn’t. Voldemort killed him!”

Anne listened, coughing softly into her hand. Hermione glanced over, but Anne shook her head, fine, keep going.

“Voldemort’s back at Malfoy Manor. Furious that we escaped. Lucius blamed Greyback for everything, and Voldemort, he killed Greyback instantly with the Elder Wand!”

Hermione shuddered. Anne reached out, squeezed her hand. Hermione sat down beside her, linking arms silently.

“And then, he knew! He saw it! We were so stupid!” Harry groaned, hitting his own forehead until Ron stopped him.

“Harry!” Ron said, alarmed.

“I left the locket!” Harry blurted. “In the bag, Griphook’s cell, I dumped everything out, I swear it was in there, but afterward I just, I forgot! I was too busy sending messages, helping them—”

“He saw it,” Harry continued, voice breaking. “He nearly killed Lucius for offering him the locket! He realized we know about the Horcruxes! He’s furious! He’s going to check every single one, the cave, the Gaunt shack, Gringotts for the cup, Hogwarts for the diadem—”

“Did you see where in Hogwarts?” Anne asked sharply.

Harry shook his head, miserable.

“Did Bellatrix mention the sword to him?” Anne pressed.

“No, at least, I don’t think so. She looked terrified, panicked. As soon as he saw the locket, he left!”

Anne narrowed her eyes. “You three,” she muttered under her breath, “never stop testing the limits of my sanity…”

“Anne—” Hermione began softly.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly, staring at his feet. For a moment, he looked like the small, scared boy from Privet Drive, all guilt and helplessness.

The room fell quiet. The weight of what he’d said hung heavy over them.

“If he finds out a Horcrux is missing… what happens?” Ron asked weakly.

“He’ll move the rest,” Hermione whispered, face pale. “And then we’ll never find another.”

Yes. The cup, hidden in Gringotts. Harry remembered Hagrid’s words on his first trip to Diagon Alley: “There’s no safer place in the wizarding world, ‘cept maybe Hogwarts.”

Layers of enchantments, vaults guarded by dragons. Impossible to break in.

Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, could be anywhere, always near him. And the diadem… Hogwarts, now under Snape’s control, filled with Death Eaters waiting for Harry to show up.

It was all unraveling, faster than they could catch up.

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The complete release can be accessed through[P]atreon.[c]om/Crimson_Lore [remove brackets]