Of course, everything at Hogwarts would be resolved smoothly.
After all, Hogwarts was the safest place in the world.
Dana had become even more of a loner. His social life, already minimal, had now completely vanished.
He missed the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match after Halloween, missed Harry's out-of-control broomstick incident, and even missed the trio's deductions about Snape.
As for whether Hagrid had let slip information about Nicolas Flamel, Dana couldn't have cared less.
A week before Christmas, Professor McGonagall sought him out.
"Emrys, you're staying at school for the holidays, aren't you?"
"No, Professor. I'd like to go back to my home. It's where I grew up, and I want to restore it during the break."
Professor McGonagall's face showed concern.
"It's not safe for you to be alone, Dana."
Dana looked up, his expression melancholy.
"Professor, I don't want to be a child without a home. That house holds all the memories of my mother and me."
McGonagall's stern features softened immediately.
"Oh, Dana…"
She reached into her robes and pulled out a small bag.
"Here are ten Galleons. Don't be stingy with food. If you run out of money, send me an owl."
"Thank you, Professor. Really."
Dana didn't need the money, but he truly appreciated her kindness. His eyes stung slightly—not an act, but genuine emotion.
After the Christmas feast, Dana lay on his bed, planning out how he would spend his holiday when a knock sounded at his door.
"Who is it?"
"Dana, it's me—Harry!"
This was the first time Harry had come up to the tower to find him since the start of term.
Dana flicked his fingers, and the wooden door swung open, revealing Harry, half of Ron, and Hermione peeking in behind them.
"Hi, Dana," she greeted.
—Hogwarts' dormitory rules allowed girls to enter the boys' dorms, but not the other way around.
Dana raised an eyebrow.
"You're rare visitors."
Harry smiled.
"We had a question we couldn't figure out, and Hermione thought you'd know the answer."
Ron, clearly reluctant, muttered something under his breath and stared at the floor.
"Go on."
"Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is?"
Dana nodded without hesitation.
"Of course."
Harry's face lit up. Hermione looked unsurprised, as if she'd expected no less. Ron, however, gawked at him in disbelief.
Dana shut his book, revealing the title—What to Watch for When Hybridizing Magical Plants.
"Can you tell us?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Of course, Harry."
Dana saw no reason to refuse. They'd find out eventually, whether or not he told them.
"Nicolas Flamel is a famous alchemist. He created the legendary Philosopher's Stone, which is said to grant immortality and turn metal into gold. He's lived for over six hundred years, and many believe it's due to the stone."
"Immortality!" Harry and Hermione gasped.
"Turning metal into gold!" Ron added, equally awed.
Dana smirked.
"Alright, you have your answer. Now, I'd like to finish my book. Happy Christmas, you three."
The Christmas holiday lasted two weeks, and Dana had carefully planned his time.
1. Decipher Merlin's notebook. Improving his strength remained the top priority, especially since his upcoming actions carried a certain level of danger.
2. Find Hawkin Ricketts. The Ministry of Magic official from his case had to be identified.
3. Track down John Flint. Revenge was secondary; information was the main goal.
4. If time permitted, infiltrate the Avery estate. This was by far the riskiest move but might yield the truth about his past.
When he left King's Cross Station with Hermione, he saw her hug her parents. Dana pursed his lips.
Sensing something, Hermione glanced over her shoulder—only to find that Dana was already gone.
Above her, a pigeon took flight, soaring west toward Wales.
Dana had waited far too long for this moment.
He needed to know what Merlin's notebook contained.
Finding a suitable Muggle to help was trickier than expected. Ideally, they had to be single, living in a remote area, and fluent in Welsh. Though Welsh was an official language, fewer and fewer people actually spoke it.
Josh Foster was a lifelong resident of the Vale of Glamorgan in Wales. His family had farmed for generations, but due to gambling debts, he'd lost the farm. Now, he lived alone in a small house on the edge of the Foster estate, managing a forested area for the new landowners.
Christmas had come and gone, but his small home lacked any holiday cheer. The air was thick with the scent of stale food and whiskey.
A loud knock, knock, knock roused him from his hangover.
"Who's there?" he grumbled, clutching his throbbing head.
"Mr. Foster? I'm from the Barry Inheritance Office. We have an inheritance for you."
Josh immediately perked up.
"Inheritance?"
A stroke of luck at last!
He staggered to the door and swung it open.
A well-dressed man stood outside, carrying a briefcase. He looked every bit the refined professional.
"Hello, Mr. Foster. I'm Darke Dentis, here regarding a family inheritance."
Josh rubbed his temples.
"What inheritance? My father never mentioned any fortune…"
Dentis—Dana in disguise—offered a reassuring smile.
"This inheritance goes back to the Middle Ages. Your ancestors served the royal family as knights in the eighth century. Over time, your branch of the Foster family settled here.
"The last descendant of another Foster branch, Matilda Foster, recently passed away in London. As per her will, a portion of the estate now belongs to you."
Josh's eyes gleamed.
"Oh, that's… terrible news. But I appreciate the gesture!"
Dentis retrieved a small gold statue of a knight from his case and placed it on the table. Josh nearly drooled at the sight.
"Before we proceed," Dentis continued, "we need to confirm your family connection. We have a test—only a true Foster can read this notebook."
He handed over the replica of Merlin's notebook—enchanted to disappear after a few hours.
Josh greedily snatched it up.
"Fine, fine! What do I do?"
"Just read it aloud," Dentis instructed.
Josh squinted at the text.
"Uh… Cambion bloodline development record… Druids believe Cambions have an advantage in their connection to nature…"
He fumbled over the words, mispronouncing half of them. But Dana didn't care. He had already deciphered the crucial parts.
Merlin wasn't fully human.
He was a Cambion—half-human, half-demon.
To awaken his true potential, he had created this notebook.
The blood of a Cambion held unimaginable power. It could be cultivated in three stages:
1. Shapeshifting. A Cambion could take any form, even a dragon. Their magic was naturally stronger than an ordinary wizard's.
2. Communication with all things. This was why Merlin had been revered by the Druids—he could speak to nature itself.
3. Prophecy. The rarest and most terrifying ability—foreseeing the future.
Dana's heart pounded.
His golden finger had given him Merlin's fully developed bloodline. Did that mean he already had all three abilities?
He attempted to predict whether he'd find John Flint in Ponthas Town.
…Nothing.
So, not yet.
But it didn't matter. As long as he stayed in a place brimming with magic, his abilities would awaken naturally.
The notebook also recorded three unique spells:
1. Art of Destiny – Temporary fate manipulation, at the cost of nearly all one's magic and blood.
2. Possession Art – The ability to control other creatures.
3. Spandim Gate – A portal spell allowing instant travel between two locations.
Dana's lips curled into a smirk.
This was exactly what he needed.
No more exhausting flights in Animagus form—he would master Spandim Gate.
End of the Chapter
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