NOVEL WEB Chapter 43: CHAPTER 43
"Emily, what made you pick up a book like this?" Adrian Blackwood asked, genuinely curious why his younger sister had suddenly taken interest in something that looked more like dense magical reference material than the fairy tales she used to love.
"This book? Albert brought it home a few days ago," Emily said with a proud nod, her head tilting sweetly to one side. "I saw him reading it—twice, actually—but he wouldn't let me see what it was about. He just tucked it under his arm and said it wasn't for kids."
She paused, her big eyes blinking innocently. "Adrian, no one's told me a proper story since you left for Hogwarts. Dad only manages a paragraph or two before falling asleep, and Ren just talks about magical infestations now. So today, while Albert was out, I went snooping. He hides everything under his bed, but Mum, Daisy, and I all know about that. Please, tell me a story like you used to, Adrian… and don't tell Albert I looked!"
Faced with his little sister's pleading gaze and impish grin, Adrian didn't have the heart to refuse. He smiled, fetched a slice of cheesecake and a glass of warm milk for her, then motioned for Emily to sit and enjoy while he opened the mysterious book.
At first, it read like an odd magical travelogue—stories about ancient gems and moonlit rituals. But then Adrian's brow furrowed. Nestled between two seemingly mundane pages was a passage covered in strange symbols—curved runes and cryptic alphanumeric scripts. Most alarming was a hand-drawn image tucked neatly into the margin. It depicted a hooded figure with a skull for a face, and from its mouth slithered a long, coiling serpent—the unmistakable Dark Mark used by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
But what chilled Adrian further was that the accompanying notes were clearly written in Albert's neat, angular handwriting—and they were dated just one week ago.
"What is Albert involved in?" Adrian muttered under his breath, pulse quickening. "His last mission… is it tied to lingering Death Eater activity?"
He remembered Albert's distant behavior on the platform days earlier—how he'd seemed preoccupied, distracted even in the warmth of a family reunion. Unlike Muggle police, Aurors didn't work routine shifts. Their missions were dangerous, covert, and unpredictable—more like espionage than patrol.
Murmuring a quick apology to Emily and promising to finish the story later, Adrian skimmed through the book at high speed, piecing together the fragments. The narrative centered around a yellow diamond, referred to as the Moon Gem, traced back to 11th-century Indian magical history. According to the text, every wizard who had come into possession of it had suffered catastrophic misfortune—illness, madness, even death.
Concern etched into his features, Adrian brought it up discreetly over dinner. "Dad," he asked carefully, "do you know what kind of mission Albert was on this time?"
Owen Blackwood barely looked up from his shepherd's pie. "You know Auror assignments, son. They're confidential. It's not unusual for him to disappear for a few days. Has happened plenty of times."
But Adrian wasn't reassured. The forced nonchalance in his father's tone made it obvious he was also concerned. And as the silence thickened, the worry spread around the table.
"Boom—Boom—BOOM BOOM!" came an abrupt series of heavy knocks from the front door, making everyone jump.
Morgana Lefey Blackwood immediately stood, eyes narrowing. "Daisy, take Emily upstairs. Now."
Daisy didn't argue. She guided a protesting Emily quickly out of the room, the younger girl still whispering questions over her shoulder.
Owen, who had already reached for his wand, approached the door cautiously, checking through the magical peephole. A moment later, he unbolted it and opened it to reveal a tall wizard stepping through the snowfall.
The man was dark-skinned and bald, wrapped in a purple Auror-standard winter cloak with the hood pulled back. He removed his matching cap and brushed off the snow.
"Sorry to disturb you this late, Owen," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, his voice calm and deep. "But I wouldn't have come unless it was urgent."
Adrian recognized him immediately. Kingsley was one of the most respected Aurors in Britain—known not just for his magical prowess, but for his role in the Order of the Phoenix during the war.
"What's happened, Kingsley?" Owen asked gravely. "Is this about Albert?"
The room fell silent. Morgana's hand flew to the brooch at her chest as the rest of the family instinctively leaned closer, bracing for the worst.
Kingsley gave a small nod and exhaled slowly. "Yes. According to the report, Albert was scheduled to return to the Department this morning to debrief after completing his field assignment. He hasn't returned, nor has he checked in via Floo or Patronus. We've initiated a quiet search—but I wanted to speak with you all directly."
Adrian noticed that Kingsley Shacklebolt's words faltered—just for a moment—but it was enough. He was withholding something. Owen Blackwood, standing by the fireplace with arms folded, clearly caught it as well. His voice, though steady, carried a sharper edge than usual.
"Kingsley, whatever it is, we can handle it," Owen said firmly. "But what we need most right now is clarity. Can you at least tell us whether Albert is safe?"
Though clearly distressed by the news, Morgana Lefey Blackwood remained composed. Hiding the tremor in her hands, she quietly turned and brewed a fresh pot of black tea laced with a hint of warming milk and clove. She handed it to Kingsley with the same grace she had once offered guests at St. Mungo's—no matter how deeply the worry gnawed at her mother's heart.
Kingsley took a grateful sip and sighed. "Thank you, Mrs. Blackwood. I've been stationed near your property since morning. It's freezing out there. But to your question, Owen—yes, Albert appears to be safe… at least for now. If he weren't, I doubt I would've found three suspicious individuals snooping outside your home this afternoon."
Owen's brow furrowed. "Snooping? Who were they? And why would they be looking for Albert?"
At this, Adrian noticed his mother tense and begin to rise again, likely to prepare something for the guest. He gently reached out and stopped her hand. She had done enough. She needed to stay grounded for herself now.
"I'll handle the kitchen," Adrian offered quickly, excusing himself. His senses—sharpened through months of wandless training and Ravenclaw's physical regimen—caught every word in the living room as clearly as if he'd stayed.
Kingsley's tone lowered slightly. "I can't share the specifics of Albert's assignment—it was classified by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he said, glancing toward Morgana, whose question had been waiting unspoken. "But I suspect the mission may be linked to the object you already suspect."
Adrian stiffened as he flipped sausages in the pan. The Moonstone.
"In your village," Kingsley continued, "I came across three men—South Asian, likely Indian. They wore red-brown pointed slippers, white linen robes, and trousers. They were accompanied by a British boy—brown-haired, maybe fifteen—possibly a neighbor. His demeanor was strange. He didn't appear entirely willing to be there."
Adrian heard the sizzle of the sausages but barely registered it. He knew most of the neighborhood kids. Who could that have been?
"The men had him extend his hand," Kingsley went on, "and they poured a thick black liquid—looked like ink—into his palm. Then one of them pressed his hand against the boy's forehead and began muttering. I suspect it was a variation of the Indian divination ritual Satya Darshan—a form of truth magic."
"Then," Kingsley added, setting his cup down, "they asked the boy if Albert lived here. After he answered, they repeated the ritual, breaking whatever trance they'd placed him in. The boy stumbled off down the road, dazed. The men conferred briefly and left. I waited in hiding behind your front hedge for hours, but they didn't return."
By now, Adrian was returning with a plate of sausages, toast, and some steaming bread. "You're cold and tired, sir. Please, eat," he said, placing the food gently before Kingsley.
"You're a good lad, Adrian," Kingsley said, giving him a nod of sincere appreciation.
"We've discussed the situation with the Head Auror," Kingsley continued, "and given the potential danger to your household, the Ministry agrees it's best for your family to relocate temporarily. Both of you," he said to Owen and Morgana, "are granted special leave. You're not under suspicion—but we think whoever's looking for Albert may come back."
Kingsley then added more carefully, "Have either of you noticed anything different about Albert lately? Anyone he's been meeting or books he's been researching?"
Owen and Morgana looked at one another—guilt flickering between them. They had been so focused on their own work that they hadn't thought to probe too deeply into Albert's.
Adrian cleared his throat. "Actually," he said, reaching into the book pile on the sideboard, "I found this in Albert's room. He's been reading it constantly—it's about the legend of the Moonstone."
Kingsley took the book, flipping through the pages with a sharp eye. The symbol of the Dark Mark sketched on the margin, the encoded text, and the dates—he noted everything in silence.
"Thank you, Adrian," he said at last, closing the cover. "This may be more important than we thought. We'll use this to track his last known leads. And don't worry—this won't delay your return to Hogwarts. We'll get Albert back."
Kingsley's confidence offered a sliver of comfort. Though his calm demeanor remained unchanged, Adrian could tell the Auror had already pieced together more than he was saying aloud.
"I'll stay here tonight," Kingsley said, glancing toward Morgana with polite formality. "Just as a precaution, Mrs. Blackwood. I hope it's not an inconvenience."
"Of course not," she replied graciously. "We're grateful for your presence." But under the table, Adrian noticed her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Her calm exterior was held together only by instinct and strength—traits that had long been the foundation of the Blackwood matriarch.