Legends of Frost: the Battle of Ancient Magic

5. Through the Twelfth Vault of Gringotts

The cave held very little life within its domed walls — a few flora, mostly weeds and grass; and a skull of an unknown animal — saved for the lone red-furred squirrel that trotted close to the skull then skittered away in panic as a loud pop resounded in the cave, echoing. Alfie and Professor Fig fell onto the ground, the momentum between their falling and landing was rough.

"Are you alright?" Professor Fig pushed himself up into a crouching position then stood up.

Alfie, on all fours, panted heavily as he tried to push himself upright. Then he felt it, a sharp pain that starts from his ankle and shoots up to his leg. He cried out in pain as he fell back down on his side.

"You're hurt!" Professor Fig dug through his pockets as he carefully made his way to Alfie. He retrieved a vial of Wiggenweld potion, uncorked it, and handed it to Alfie. "Here, this should help."

Alfie winced, looking up at the vial then up at Professor Fig who nodded towards him, encouraging him to take the potion. He took the vial from him and downed the green swirling liquid. It tastes of mint, mushrooms and herbs. Alfie could feel the swirling liquid wash over his body, soothing the stabbing pain in his ankle, the ache in his body, and he sighed in relief as the tension eased from his body.

"What happened back there?" Alfie asked, hearing his low baritone voice echoing back at him in a faint murmur. He watched as Professor Fig paced to and from the space in front of him, murmuring his brief sorrow for George Osric.

Alfie watched as Professor Fig frown, disbelief creased his brows and pulled down the corners of his lips. "What had gotten into that damned thing?! Attack a carriage mid-flight?" He paced one way, pivoted then paced the other way. "A typical dragon would never —" he paused.

"Professor?" Alfie called back to him, uncertain.

Professor Fig stopped, his right hand raised slightly as if he was reaching for a thought, unravelling the possible reasons as to why a dragon had attacked a carriage. Then he stopped short, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding as he let his hands fall to his sides then lifted to place them on his hips.

Alfie shifted to his knees, looking around the cave they had arrived in. "Where are we?" he asked and heard Professor Fig's uncertainty through laboured breathing.

"Clearly the key you've discovered is a Portkey," added Professor Fig and when Alfie turned to face Professor Fig, their eyes met.

Professor Fig blinked, he noticed the slight sharpness to Alfie's emerald gaze.

I promise no use of the Portkey unless absolutely necessary.

Alfie had recalled the very words Professor Fig uttered and judging by the apologetic look on the man's face, he remembers it too. However, Alfie didn't chide him for it, instead he carefully pushed himself up to stand and dusted himself off.

"I'm feeling much better, if you'd like to look around?" Alfie said, his gaze steady on the man's face. Professor Fig knows they are pressed for time but a brief exploring beyond the cave would prove useful as to finding the answers they need about that Portkey.

They exited the cave, wind whipping viciously through their coats and tousled their hair. Alfie could smell the bracing sea air carrying hints of salt and petrichor, as his eyes locked onto the silhouette of the ruined castle, shrouded in mist and perched on the cliffs, a haunting sentinel embraced by the ocean. He could hear the waves crashing against the edge of the cliffside, the gushing waters of a waterfall high above to his right, and Alfie's question about the Portkey's intended destination was nearly lost to the wind.

Professor Fig had to raise his voice against the howling wind, "Farther from London than the carriage travelled! We're somewhere near the Scottish Highlands!"