Forbidden Request

Chapter Fifteen: The Remains Of Jackdaw

Leaving Helen Thistlewood's cottage, I felt a mixture of determination and unease. She had explained the grisly details of the murder—an innocent woman wrongfully convicted and executed for the crime. Helen was adamant that the truth had been buried along with her, and the missing pages of my book seemed somehow linked to this old mystery.

The task ahead seemed daunting, but I couldn't ignore the growing connection between this puzzle and my own strange, ancient powers.

The air nipped at my skin as I stepped back into Upper Hogsfield. The sky had darkened slightly, with thick clouds rolling in over the hills. I pulled my jumper tighter around me, the weight of my wand in my pocket a comforting presence. The village was quiet again, save for the occasional bark of a distant dog or the rustle of leaves. Despite the isolation, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. It was as if the shadows themselves were creeping closer, whispering warnings I couldn't quite hear.

Helen had pointed me toward an abandoned home, where she believed the truth behind the murder might be hidden. The home belonged to Richard Jackdaw, a former thief, who had fled the scene of the crime centuries ago. His ghost, apparently, still haunted the area—and with him, perhaps, the secrets I sought.

I made my way down a narrow dirt path leading out of the village, my boots crunching against the fallen leaves. The wind howled as I neared the dilapidated ruins of what was once Jackdaw's home, now little more than a pile of crumbling stones and broken timbers.

My heart raced as I approached. Helen's words echoed in my mind: "If you find Richard Jackdaw's ghost, perhaps he can guide you to the missing pages." The thought of speaking with a ghost wasn't new to me—I had spoken with many at Hogwarts—but Jackdaw was different. He was a criminal, and I couldn't be sure of what he might say... or do.

I stepped cautiously toward the ruins, every instinct telling me to be on high alert. The wind seemed to die down as I entered the remnants of the house, a strange stillness settling over the area. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I scanned the broken stones.

"Richard Jackdaw," I called out quietly, though my voice echoed as if carried by unseen forces.

For a moment, nothing happened. Just silence, the eerie quiet of a place forgotten by time. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a faint shimmer of light. It was barely noticeable at first, but as I focused, the figure of a man began to materialize—a ghostly form slowly drifting into view.

Richard Jackdaw appeared before me, translucent and pale, his face twisted into a mischievous grin. He floated a few feet above the ground, arms crossed over his chest. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice echoing through the ruins. "It seems I have a visitor. What brings you to this forsaken place, little witch?"

I swallowed, my grip tightening on my wand. "I'm looking for answers," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "And for the missing pages of a book... I've been told you might be able to help."

Jackdaw's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, the missing pages," he mused. "You must mean the ones I took with me the night I... well, let's just say I didn't make it far."

I stepped closer, keeping my wand ready. "Where are they?"

Jackdaw chuckled, the sound sending a chill down my spine. "You're quite the eager one, aren't you? But if you want those pages, you'll have to work for them. You see, I hid them in a cave deep in the Forbidden Forest. I was on my way there when—well, when I met my untimely end."

My heart sank. The Forbidden Forest. Of course. Nothing could ever be simple.

Jackdaw's grin faded slightly as he floated closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The forest is dangerous... but you're not the first to seek those pages. Many have tried, and many have failed. But maybe... just maybe, you're different."