Volu 18 - The Yellow Warlock - Begins!!!
NOTE: PLEASE READ THE AUXILIARY Chapter FOR VOLU 18 BEFORE CONTINUING. ITS NOT SPOILER FOR YOU GUYS NOW
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Chapter Begins:
21 July 1991
England
In the Craven district of North Yorkshire, England, there was a small village nad Cunestune.
Miles away from the nearest city, and nestled in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales, the village boldly supported a population of 130, mostly self-supported.
The highlights of the small village were its stunning, natural beauty and historic buildings and landmarks, including the 12th-century St. Mary's Church and the impressive Cunestune Dib, a narrow listone gorge.
It was also surrounded by rolling hills, lush green fields, and brooks.
With its picturesque countryside and quaint stone cottages, it wasn't one of those places where you would find foreign people unless they were tourists.
So when Minerva McGonagall apparated to the outskirts of the village on the evening of the 21st, she felt as if she had stepped into a different world.
"Bliy, Dumbledore!" Minerva cursed, looking at the desolate, quiet twilight. "Where did you send this ti?"
Where one would have marveled at the lush, darkening greenery, Minerva scowled, swatting the buzzing mosquitoes with her wand.
One of the mosquitoes almost went into her nose.
Minerva's lips twisted. Her wand let out sparks as it lit up several mosquitoes, burning them to a crisp.
Even her tall, top hat almost slipped off her head during this intense fight.
"This..." Minerva adjusted her hat, frowning, "... better be worth it!"
She put her wand into the sleeves of her loose, wizarding robes.
Suddenly, her gaze fell on the envelope in her left hand, and her anger against the Headmaster abated a bit.
Surprisingly, her frown deepened, though.
As the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it was Minerva's job to note down the nas of all students from the Book of Admittance who would be joining the school this year.
It was then she noticed a na that had sent a chill down her spine.
When she had reported the matter to Dumbledore, she had expected him to send soone to look into the matter.
But not like this! Minerva thought, shaking her head in exasperation. And certainly not her! Even Hagrid could have done this much, given all his... negligence... in the serious matters. No?
Holding her robe up with her right hand, and tightening her grip on the letter, Minerva stepped toward the gloomy-looking village.
However, the more she neared the settlent, the livelier her surroundings beca.
The noise of chickens and dogs entered her ears, and then she spied the first person here. It was a farr, riding on an ox-cart.
The farr gave an odd look to the witch as he directed the ox with a stick. "Tch-tch!"
"Excuse ..." Minerva called out, rembering what Dumbledore had asked her to do. "Excuse , good sir!"
The farr reluctantly paused. "Yes...?"
"Can you direct to the Old Hall?"
The farr's mustache drooped in puzzlent. "Ain't no Old Hall here, missy."
Missy?! Minerva's lips scrunched at the muggle's remark. "Where does the Black Family live then?" she asked, hoping to gain so info here.
The farr's eyes lit up.
"Oh, the Blacks!" he shouted, shifting in his seat.
"You go straight down the road, missy," he said, pointing at the road behind him with the stick. "Mind the mud, will ya? It rained yesterday. You are lookin' for Alexis Hall."
Alexis? Minerva pressed her brows as if rembering sothing. Alexia Walkin Black, perhaps? "Uhh... yeah, the Blacks. They have been here for long?"
Now the farr just gaped at the witch.
He closed and opened his mouth several tis as if struggling to find the right words.
"Long, you ask?!" he exclaid, his blood pressure rising. "Blacks were here before self, father, and grandfather, missy! mother say they are older than the place!! You doubt mother?!!!"
"No, no!" Minerva hurriedly replied, hoping to calm the man down.
The farr was now huffing and puffing, his eyes going to the witch's stupid-looking hat. The ox grunted along with him, puffs of misting breath shooting out of his huge nostrils.
"Alright, thank you!" Minerva walked away, taking the clue.
"Even the muggles are different here..." she muttered under her breath, looking over her shoulder.
The farr was still eying her, his body lting into the darkness.
Minerva almost took out her wand.
"Oh, hello!"
"Bliy!" Minerva jumped, her hat slipping off for good this ti.
"Ah!" a fat lady ran toward her, holding her mouth. "Did scare ya?" she asked, lifting the hat with a gentle smile. "Pardon manners. self Angela."
"Huh? Oh, hello," Minerva held the hat in her hand this ti, hiding her wand within it. "I was going toward the Old.. Alexis Hall."
The fat lady's smile broadened.
"You are a guest of the Blacks?!" she exclaid cheerfully. "Well, why didn't ya begin with that? Good people, the Blacks. Always help self and husband."
Minerva's old eyes lit up.
"I have so business with them," she said, now spying on more villagers here and there. "It's my first ti eting them."
"Oh, you will love them!" Angela hopped. "Mr. and Mrs. Black are the kindest people know. But..."
"But?!" Minerva stepped near the fat lady.
"But their son's a bit odd," Angela finished, blushing with sha.
"Odd? Like how?"
Before Minerva could get an answer, Angela ran away, her cheeks becoming redder than red.
The witch's lips twitched. And I thought this one was normal...
As she kept going, Minerva McGonagall kept asking about the Blacks from one person and another, getting almost the sa response.
The Blacks are kind.
The Blacks help the villagers.
The Blacks are the wealthiest people they know.
The Blacks got an 11-year-old son.
He is odd.
...
The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was one of the largest, oldest, and wealthiest pure-blooded wizarding families in Great Britain, and one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
Many wizarding families were distantly related to the House of Black.
Minerva never liked them.
Also, the House of Black was known for discarding the squibs born into the family.
So it didn't co as a surprise to Minerva that so distant relatives from ages ago had settled down in this muggle village.
But the timing was a bit too coincidental, as Dumbledore had put it.
Especially with what happened with Sirius, and the young Potter joining Hogwarts this year, they decided to look into it by sending a Special ssenger along with the Hogwarts Acceptance Letter.
From what she got to know till now, Minerva had already confird their doubts were ill-founded.
Still, she was here.
It wouldn't be professional if she went back without acting her part.
Suddenly, she arrived in front of a stone-walled, handso house with a typical Yorkshire Listone facade.
Minerva took the wide staircase leading to the front door, looking at the well-cared lawns on each side.
Under the porchway, there were three umbrellas, resting in a bucket.
Minerva held herself from trying them out and knocked.
The wooden door opened with a rainy creak.
"Yes?" a maid asked, eying the tall witch.
...
After a few minutes of introduction, Minerva found herself seated near the fireplace in an incredible lounge.
"Ms. Minerva?" a manly voice arrived from the other side of the room.
The Deputy Headmistress stood up to her full height.
In his black coat and pants, the black-haired man looked... young. He was followed by an incredibly beautiful woman with blonde, curly hair, but equally young.
The man smiled. "Good evening," he greeted, approaching the witch. "I am Peter. My wife, Celeste."
"Good evening," Minerva greeted back, feeling out of place among the charming muggles.
"Are you from Hogwarts?" Mr. Peter Black asked, smiling.
Minerva's shoulders shook.
"Haha!" Peter laughed, gesturing for the witch to take a seat, too. "Our roots are old, Ms. Minerva, as you must know. We know so truths of the wizarding world, despite not being able to be a part of it."
Minerva sat down, still surprised. Does Dumbledore know the muggles are aware of their family background? Yes. He must be.
"Forgive ," Mrs. Black intervened, her eyes narrowing. "Correct if I am wrong. Is it normal for a Staff mber to visit the student's ho, when the parents are aware of the magical world?"
Minerva found herself lost.
No. It wasn't normal. Sending a letter through the owl was the norm practiced throughout Britain.
"Haha!" Peter laughed boisterously. "It doesn't matter. Sotis, my wife takes too much pride in our family na. We are nothing but muggles now, Celeste. Forget it. You must be here to act as the Special ssenger, right?"
"Oh, yes, yes," Minerva hurriedly replied. She brought out the letter. "If you please..."
"Sure..." Mr. Black smiled at her. "Let call him down. He has always been waiting for this letter."
Peter passed the word to the maid as she plated food and tea on the table between them.
Soon, Minerva heard steps. It was like the lack of the sound of the rain after a downpour. Or the lack of a breeze after a thunderstorm.
It was soft and silent.
It was Calm.
"Ms. Minerva," Celeste said with a touch of smugness. "et our son... Arlen Black."
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