The wind howled softly through the swirling magic as the Portkey activated, dragging Elias Blackthorn across continents in an instant. For a heartbeat, the world became a blur of colors and sound. Then, with a dull thump, he landed gracefully within a tall, circular room—smooth marble walls, gleaming brass signs, and the faint scent of old parchment and enchantment in the air.
The International Arrivals Chamber of the British Ministry of Magic.
Elias straightened his traveling cloak with practiced ease, his eyes quickly scanning the room. Two witches in navy robes immediately approached him for routine arrival formalities.
"Name?" one asked briskly.
"Elias Blackthorn."
At once, her tone changed. "Ah, yes. Of course, Mr. Blackthorn. Welcome back to Britain."
A few more routine checks followed—magical item declarations, brief wand verification, and the confirmation of travel permissions signed by the Egyptian Ministry and the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Elias moved through the process with the cold efficiency of someone used to bureaucracy.
Just as the last seal was stamped, a smooth, familiar voice echoed from the archway.
"There you are, Elias."
Lucian Blackthorn, pristine as ever in a deep green cloak lined with black and silver, stepped into view. His expression was calm, but there was a glint of quiet approval in his eyes. The formalities paused as the Ministry workers instinctively stepped back to allow the elder Blackthorn space. His reputation did not permit delays.
"Everything went smoothly?" Lucian asked in a low voice.
"Yes. Nothing unexpected," Elias replied calmly, handing over a copy of the signed documents.
Lucian accepted them with a nod. "Good. We'll talk more at home. I've already arranged the carriage."
But just as they turned to leave, the hum of conversation near the entrance shifted—parted, really—as a stout figure in pinstriped robes waddled forward, escorted by a pair of assistants.
Cornelius Fudge.
Elias watched silently as the current Minister for Magic approached with a wide, eager grin. The man's bowler hat was slightly askew, and his green tie clashed horribly with the orange accents on his robes, but none of that dulled the almost theatrical warmth in his tone.
"Lucian! What a surprise! I didn't know you'd be here today—still taking care of international cooperation matters yourself, eh?" Fudge beamed.
Lucian's smile was the definition of polite and guarded. "Minister Fudge. I'm simply here to pick up my son. He's just returned from his sanctioned trip to Egypt."
"Ah! Yes, of course, the Blackthorn heir!" Fudge's eyes snapped to Elias with sudden theatrical interest, though the boy could see it was mostly for show. "Well, well. Welcome back, young man. I trust your journey was... enlightening?"
Elias gave a respectful bow of his head. "It was, Minister. Thank you."
"Excellent, excellent. Always good to see the next generation of our… distinguished families taking initiative," Fudge said, his eyes darting between father and son with careful admiration. "You've got quite the legacy to uphold, young Mr. Blackthorn. I have no doubt you'll make your family proud."
Elias simply nodded again. He knew when words were unnecessary.
"Lucian, I've been meaning to talk to you about that committee vote next month. Perhaps we could arrange a—"
Lucian cut in smoothly, "Of course, Minister. We'll speak later this week at the club. I'm sure we'll find an arrangement that suits everyone."
Fudge's grin widened, clearly pleased. "Splendid! I'll let you get back to your day, then. Always a pleasure."
With that, the Minister waved and waddled off, his assistants scrambling behind him.
Elias waited until the man was out of earshot before speaking.
"He's... very eager."
Lucian snorted, a rare sound of open amusement from the man. "That's one word for it. He's barely held the position for three years, and he knows he's only still there because people like us allow it."
Elias raised a brow. "And he knows that?"
"Of course. That's why he acts like a fan meeting his favorite Quidditch player every time we cross paths," Lucian said dryly. "It's quite pathetic—but useful."
They passed into one of the Ministry's private lift corridors as Lucian continued in a quieter, sharper tone.
"Fudge may be weak, indecisive, and easily manipulated… but that makes him perfect. If we wanted real control over the Ministry, it wouldn't be through someone powerful or competent. It would be through someone like him—a man whose loyalties can be bought with promises of influence, gold, or vague prestige."
Elias nodded thoughtfully.
Lucian glanced at him. "A lesson worth remembering. The truly dangerous politicians aren't the strong ones—they're the ones who owe you everything and don't even realize it."
They emerged from the lift into the upper-level atrium. A sleek black carriage enchanted for silent flight was already waiting just outside the Ministry's private exit.
As they stepped inside, Elias glanced back at the building behind him—its polished facade, its tall archways, its hidden corruption beneath layers of tradition.
"Do you think he'll last much longer?" he asked as the carriage doors closed.
"Fudge?" Lucian smirked. "He'll last as long as we want him to."
The carriage rose into the sky, gliding toward the Blackthorn estate, as father and son settled into the silence. The Ministry faded behind them—its power already being woven by unseen hands.
The thestral-drawn carriage glided across the long, ancient road flanked by ivy-covered statues, leading toward the heart of the Blackthorn estate. The black iron gates opened with a whisper of runes, welcoming their heir home. Beyond the stone archway, the manor loomed—grand, gothic, and bathed in the warm glow of twilight. The tall towers reached for the heavens, the wards humming faintly in the background, welcoming Elias back to safety.
As Elias stepped out of the carriage, the front doors opened, and a tall figure in regal emerald robes stepped down the steps.
"Elias!"
It was Lady Seraphina Blackthorn, his mother, her presence as sharp and composed as ever. Her silver-blonde hair was swept up in a flawless braid, but despite the elegance and noble bearing, there was unmistakable relief in her storm-grey eyes.
Elias managed a respectful bow. "Mother."
Without a word, she pulled him into a tight, rare embrace, examining him from head to toe afterward with all the precision of a healer.
"No visible injuries," she muttered, her eyes narrowing as her wand flicked. "But I'll check you myself. Egypt is still crawling with magical parasites and artifact-triggered curses."
"I'm fine," Elias said, amused at her concern. "Truly. The Gringotts wardens were thorough. And I had two of the strongest house-elves in our line shadowing me."
"Still," Seraphina replied crisply, tapping his temple lightly with the tip of her wand. "Mothers don't deal in probabilities. We deal in certainties."
Lucian smirked quietly as he joined them. "He's fine, Sera. He managed the trip with precision. Even dealt with the Ministry officials on his own."
Seraphina raised a brow but said nothing, waving her wand once more before lowering it. "Hm. Fine then. Come inside. We'll talk in the solar."
The family moved into the manor's west wing—a place reserved for privacy and long conversations. The solar's tall windows let in the fading light as enchanted candles lit themselves. The room smelled faintly of cedar, spell parchment, and floral tea.
Elias took his place at the low marble table, and his parents seated themselves across from him. Seraphina, ever composed, poured tea into three delicate black china cups, and Lucian leaned forward slightly with interest.
"So," Lucian began, "tell us everything. Did the pyramids reveal anything… worthwhile?"
Elias nodded, setting his cup aside. "The official chambers were cleared out—by the Ministry and Gringotts teams, as expected. But I found something deeper. A hall that was hidden behind ancient enchantments. It would have remained sealed if not for this."
He reached into his cloak and retrieved the book—bound in weathered golden leather, glowing faintly as if still remembering its ancient purpose.
Seraphina's gaze narrowed. "That's not from any of the documented collections."
Lucian leaned closer, eyes glittering. "Where did you find it?"
"In a secret room beyond the treasure chamber. The protections were complex, likely tied to ancient bloodline wards or divine rites. My house-elves neutralized an ambush triggered by the gold, but this"—he tapped the book—"was alone in a sealed room. It reacted to me."
He held the book out.
Lucian took it with the caution and reverence one would show an unstable relic. He opened it—and frowned.
"Blank," he said, flipping through the pages. "Completely blank."
"It's not," Elias said calmly. "It recognized me as the owner. The moment one of the house-elves touched it, the book tested us… then responded to my blood. Only after I marked it did it reveal its contents. The spells are written in ancient magical script—I can only read fragments."
Seraphina leaned in. "What kind of spells?"
Elias chose his words carefully. "Spells that once made wizards believe themselves gods. Nature-based magic—storms, earthquakes. Soul-related enchantments. Others… bordering on the forbidden."
Silence fell in the room.
Lucian slowly closed the book and examined the cover again. "Do you understand the importance of what you've brought back?"
"I do," Elias said quietly. "Which is why I want it placed in our deep vault. It must remain protected until I'm ready to study it. Until then, I won't risk exposing it to careless attention or premature experiments."
Lucian hesitated, still visibly tempted to try once more, but he handed the book back. "You've done well. I'll see it locked away myself tonight."
Elias passed the book to him, and the older wizard summoned a black-velvet case lined with anti-scrying charms. With a final glance, Lucian sealed the book inside and rose.
"I'll deliver it to the vault now," he said. "If even half of what you said is true, this book must never fall into anyone else's hands."
As Lucian departed the solar, Seraphina remained seated, her gaze lingering on Elias.
"And what do you plan to do now, Elias?" she asked softly.
"Next year," he said, "I'll begin studying ancient magical script properly. Until then, the book stays untouched. I'll prepare for it the right way. I don't intend to misuse what I found—or make mistakes from ignorance."
Her lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but something close. "Good. A Blackthorn doesn't reach for power recklessly. You already carry our legacy with more composure than many twice your age."
Elias inclined his head. "Thank you, Mother."
She stood. "Rest for tonight. You've earned it."
As she left, Elias turned toward the tall windows, watching the light fade across the estate gardens