The Lost Horcrux

Riddles in the Dark

Neville halted at the boundary line. His father skidded into place alongside him. Moments later the other four members of Harry's Inner Circle were ranged in a line beside them. All their wands were drawn and throbbing with anxious energy. Neville stepped forwards and cast a rune into the air. He filled it with his magic and sent it at the boundary line. When it returned he would know if it was friend or foe, encroaching on the other side of the ward, trying to get in.

Friend

The rune couldn't lie. Neville trusted it as much as he would a promise from his mother. He lowered his wand and walked forward again, crossing the boundary and leaving the estate. He was greeted by a small, squat sort of man and a skinny, shockingly frightened girl tucked under his arm. Neville frowned at them.

"You endured the repelling charms of our outer wards," said Neville bluntly. "Your commitment to whatever cause you have is concerning. State your name and purpose before I kill you for trespassing."

"Please, we mean no harm or disrespect," said the man, bowing lowly. "I seek an audience with Lord Potter."

"There is no Lord Potter here," said Neville angrily. "Leave now, or face the consequences."

"Please ... I beg you," said the man. "I am Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed. This is my daughter, Branwen. We know Lord Harry Potter lives. His ascension to Lord of Avalon has activated all the old Seals of Power in Wales. The Old Kingdom is renewed. We have been waiting centuries for this. We come only to pay homage."

"Say I believe you," said Neville. "What do you want?"

"Nothing more than a brief audience, to swear our allegiance to the Once and Future King, as custom dictates," said Pwyll. "If he is not home, we will wait. We consent to submit to any tests of truth and honour you wish to conduct."

Branwen, who was a young girl no older than fourteen, squeaked at her father's side. Neville frowned. He doubted she was a willing party in any of this ... whatever it might be. But he was inclined to believe them.

"You will submit your wands, and any other weapons you might be carrying," said Neville. "Understand, if I find you to be lying I will cut out your heart, and your lying tongue, and feed them to you. Clear?"

"Very clear, my Lord," said Pwyll. He handed over a plain wand and a curved-tipped sceptre, which served as his Badge of Office. His daughter was clean of any such affectations. Neville opened a gap in the ward and led them inside. After resealing it he turned to the other members of the Enclave

"Reinforce the ward, just in case. I'm taking these two to the palace."

"Who are they, Nev?" asked Frank Longbottom, eyeing the newcomers suspiciously.

"The guy claims to be a local Prince. Dyfed ... it's one of the old counties nearby. Says Harry channelling King Arthur's spirit has reignited some sort of ancient power Seals. Harry expected something like this, I'm sure he'll know what to do. Don't worry. I'll get Fan and Ann to screen them thoroughly when I get to the house. Will you lead the reinforcement ritual? I know Harry favours O'Brien, but I'd be more comfortable with you."

"I'll do it," said Frank. "And if Patrick has a problem with it, I'll kick him right up his Irish arse."

"Dad! That's racist!"

"No, calling him a leprechaun would be racist. And heightist. And a whole host of other pseudo-crimes. But he's the least politically-correct wizard I know, so I wouldn't worry about it."

Neville chuckled. "I'll leave it with you then. Let me know when it's done."

"Yes, Boss!" said Frank sardonically, as Neville turned and led Pwyll and Branwen towards the large manor house. When they reached it, he turned to them before opening the door.