Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (MOD Novelization)

21

Harry paused thoughtfully, stepping aside to allow three goblins through. One attempted to genuflect when the other two pulled him up by the shoulders. Harry and Delphi watched the goblin squirm in their grasp as they turned the corner.

"So? Are the Aurors tracking Finch-Fletchley?"

"I sent only the best," Delphi confirmed. "And we have good news from Rowley. His contact from Knockturn Alley is prepared to turn informant."

"The one from The Unfoppish Tattooist?" Harry asked, his interest piqued. "Has he confirmed what we thought about the Tempest?"

She nodded. "The reason we've been having such difficulty locating their compound is that they can communicate through the mark of the Augurey. And if we're being monitored or, as you feared, infiltrated by a spy at the Ministry, they're likely warning them of our movements."

They walked the rest of the corridor to Harry's office. "Why do I have the feeling this is going to be an eventful month?"

Harry's gaze shifted to a familiar sight—a tawny owl perched on the torch bracket outside his door, a dirty, weather-worn envelope clutched in its beak. The owl straightened upon seeing him, its golden eyes expectant. Recognition flashed on Harry's face, a swift intake of breath betraying his agitation.

"No! I told you to stop coming around here! Get lost!" he shouted, waving his hands to shoo the owl away. It's wings sagged and, with a mournful hoot, the owl took flight, disappearing down the corridor.

Delphi watched the exchange with concern, knowing full well to whom the owl belonged.

"Harry—" she began softly.

"Don't," he pleaded.

She hesitated, but couldn't hold back. "You have to read it eventually."

"I... I don't have to do... anything."

"But Teddy might have—"

"Stop!"

Harry's voice echoed sharply against the stone walls. Delphi lowered her eyes as a sudden surge of frustration overtook him. Drawing his wand, he aimed it at the scattered owl feathers near his office door.

"Evanesco!" he commanded with a howl.

The feathers blasted away with unexpected force—too much force. The door to his office began to rattle violently, shaking on its hinges. Alarmed, Harry reached for the handle, struggling to steady the door as it hammered back and forth with a life of it's own. Harry was about to break the handle off in frustration when Delphi swiftly raised her own wand.

"Finite Incantatem!" she declared.

The door stilled. The corridor returned to an uneasy quiet.

Harry stared down at his wand, frustration and resignation crossing his features, hair falling onto his clammy forehead. He slipped it back into his pocket and sighed. Delphi moved to fix his ungovernable hair with a flick of her wand, but he raised a hand to stop her.

"The ironic thing is... I didn't expect it to work. I'm terrible at that spell," he admitted ruefully.

"You can't keep going like this, Harry," Delphi said gently.

"I'm getting along fine. It'll just take some getting used to. And, if not, I'll try another wand," he said dismissively.

"That would make seven in three years."

"Then it shall be lucky number seven."

"What about the Elder Wand? Why not use it to fix your broken wand again?" Delphi suggested.