108: Albania and the source of Call

108: Albania and the source of Call

The silver thread slipped from John's palm and started pulling in a specific direction.

He tightened his grip, and the thread remained still in his hand, though he could feel a faint force tugging at it.

"It's guiding me," John muttered.

After a moment of consideration, he left the Belby estate and Apparated. The moment he activated Apparition, the pull of the thread in his hand grew stronger.

Then John did something incredibly reckless.

He didn't complete the Apparition. Instead, he let the thread pull him wherever it wanted to go.

The sensation was strange, his body being stretched and compressed in all directions. Slowly, he felt himself being drawn into the thread.

His body raced through an unknown dimension, enduring the pain of this rapid acceleration.

With a loud pop, John finally landed, glowing with a faint silver light. The thread in his hand began to dissolve.

He took a look around and said, "Fuu~ I can say for certain, I've just illegally entered another country—Urg! Uwack!"

The wild and untamed surroundings made it clear—this wasn't anywhere in his homeland.

The primitive forest surrounded John, emphasizing how remote this place was.

It was his first time using Apparition for such a long-distance journey, and the intense nausea hit him hard. He gagged, his mouth opening as he dry-heaved a few times.

"Haah.. This scene looks exactly like the place I saw before," he muttered.

After a while, he recovered.

He fixed his gaze on a forked tree. In his earlier vision, this tree had appeared as well. The figure he saw had hidden there before disappearing.

Carefully approaching the tree, John's pupils dilated, the blackness in his eyes spreading.

In his sight, tiny chaotic particles of magic shimmered on the tree, just a few, scattered here and there.

"Is this ancient magic?" he wondered.

Once he was sure there was no immediate danger, John reached out to touch the particles.

As soon as his hand made contact, the chaotic particles transformed into a snake, biting his palm.

He recoiled quickly, inspecting his hand. A faint, dark wound was left behind, barely noticeable unless examined closely.

"Highly aggressive," he murmured.

After some trial and error, he conjured a small orb of water at his fingertips and wrapped it around the chaotic particles, containing them.

"Only goblin magic, which is also ancient, can control this," John muttered.

Three drops of water, each encasing one chaotic particle, swirled around his hand.

He grabbed one of the orbs and softly whispered, "Point me (poineme)."

It was merely an experiment, but to his surprise, the water droplet in his palm pointed in a specific direction.

John followed the direction indicated by the orb, noticing that the underbrush thickened as he progressed.

Occasionally, strange magical creatures scurried away, either from the sides or from the trees above.

"Damn. If Hagrid were here, he'd be thrilled," John thought with amusement.

At one point, a Red Cap attempted to ambush him, aiming for his knees, but John swiftly kicked it away.

After some time, the orb in his hand suddenly exploded.

"Out of magic?" he remarked.

Picking up the next orb, he repeated the process.

By the time the last orb had also burst, John had been walking for nearly another hour.

Finally, he saw an exit ahead — a small wooden cabin.

Without making a sound, John retreated, realizing he had almost fallen into the Dark Lord's trap.

Luckily, his ability to foresee the future saved him. Otherwise, he might not have walked away from this.

Once he had retreated far enough, John fixed his gaze on the small cabin.

His pupils darkened as he saw the cabin was flowing with chaotic particles.

'Could these be related to Voldemort?'

John couldn't recall Voldemort ever using ancient magic, but given the Dark Lord's talent, it wouldn't be surprising if he had mastered it.

As he observed further, he noticed that the chaotic particles were not coming from Voldemort but were instead emanating from the snake.

"Nagini... " After muttering the snake's name, some fog cleared from his mind.

"..I somehow remember it was destroyed by Neville as a Horcrux later."

Staring at the giant snake, John suddenly heard a voice in his ear.

~~"I'm here, save me."~~

The voice was sorrowful, filled with pain and sadness. John looked in surprise at the large snake, which showed no signs of anything unusual.

The voice seemed to be coming from inside the snake, as if someone was trapped within.

"Voldemort's magic, or..."

John recalled that it was after touching the book on the Blood Curse that he first heard the call. He glanced at the giant snake.

Could it be that this was a victim of the Blood Curse, transformed into a cursed serpent?

The Blood Curse could turn a person into a snake, granting them a power similar to that of an Animagus, but with the risk of being consumed by that very power.

If his guess was correct, the snake's original form should be human.

The Blood Curse was ancient, and it seemed to align with the characteristics of ancient magic.

"So, you were the one calling me here."

John gazed at the serpent, falling deep into thought.

This snake was destined to become one of Voldemort's Horcruxes—or perhaps it already was?

Under such circumstances, taking the snake away seemed to be filled with challenges.

"Hmm, Should I go back and get help?"

As soon as the thought occurred, John immediately dismissed it. He had no idea where he was, and if he left, it would likely be difficult to return.

Right now, he was all alone, and across from him was the formidable Voldemort.

The chances looked slim.

"It's not my style to let such a rare piece of ancient magic material slip through my fingers."

John was torn. The system hadn't issued any specific task, and he wasn't sure whether to take the risk or not.

"Ok! Judging from the earlier magical summons, this giant snake probably goes out to hunt or to carry out tasks for Voldemort. Once it leaves, things will be much easier."

In a word, he decided to wait.

Since he couldn't make a move against Voldemort, his only option was to bide his time—waiting until Nagini left the hut.

"If it doesn't leave within a week, I'll just bail."

Setting himself a time limit, John began his long wait.

Fortunately, he had brought along his small pouch, packed with snacks like dried fish—originally meant for feeding owls but now doubling as his rations.

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