It is nearly mid-November, and the second Quidditch match of the season between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw is in full swing. The air is crisp with the onset of winter, and a light breeze carries the excited chatter of students across the stands. Due to the shocking events of the previous match, where Dementors invaded the pitch and nearly caused Harry to fall to his death, the turnout today is larger than usual. Students from all four houses have gathered, some out of genuine interest in the game, others simply to see if the terrifying creatures will return. The excitment is palpable, but so far, the sky remains clear of the hooded figures.
Adam, seeking a distraction from his thoughts, joins the trio in the stands, settling beside Hermione, who is watching the game with mild interest but seems more focused on analyzing the players’ strategies. The match itself is intense, with both teams playing at their best—Hufflepuff's teamwork and persistence clashing against Ravenclaw’s sharp tactics and speed. The crowd roars with each near-goal, their excitement ebbing and flowing with the movement of the Quaffle. The Seekers dart through the sky in search of the Snitch, their eyes scanning every corner of the pitch. In the end, after a grueling and well-fought battle, Ravenclaw secures the victory when their Seeker, catches the Snitch in a daring dive that has half the crowd holding their breath.
As the students begin making their way back to the castle, the energy from the match lingers in the air. Some are still discussing the finer points of the game, others are grumbling about lost bets or cheering over their house’s triumph. Amidst the chatter, Harry sighs, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Why does this always happen to me?"
Adam smirks, glancing at him. "Maybe Dementors just like your memories more." His tone is light, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes.
Harry frowns, his brow creasing in thought. "But I don’t really have any except for the happy ones I’ve made at Hogwarts. Everyone here has happy memories." His voice carries a note of frustration, as though trying to make sense of an unseen puzzle.
Ron, ever the practical one, chimes in, "Maybe you’ve got some special happy memory they’re after." He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets as they continue up the path.
Harry falls silent, his expression unreadable as he contemplates Ron’s words. His mind drifts, trying to pinpoint what could make him different—what memory, if any, could be so powerful that Dementors would single him out. The thought lingers on deeper memories of his past as they step through the castle doors, the warmth of the Great Hall beckoning them inside.
Since it is a Hogsmeade weekend, Adam makes his way toward his small headquarters at the edge of the village leaving Hermione and Ron at Three Broomsticks Inn. The crisp air carries the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke, and the cobbled streets are lively with students and villagers enjoying the weekend. However, Adam’s mind is elsewhere as he approaches the modest yet well-secured building that serves as the heart of his operations.
Upon entering, the familiar warmth of the interior greets him, along with the scent of parchment, ink, and faint traces of healing potions. Old Man Barry, ever watchful, looks up from his seat and greets him with a respectful nod. His expression, though steady, carries a hint of concern.
"Everything is running smoothly with recruitment, Young Master," Barry begins, his voice calm yet measured. "But there was a small incident yesterday."
Adam immediately straightens, his senses sharpening. "What happened?"
Barry exhales, his brows furrowing slightly. "A group attacked our Magical Beasts Rescue Squad while they were saving a young Erumpent. Those traffickers were trying to smuggle it somewhere. Our squad intervened, and while none of our people were killed, some of them sustained injuries."
Adam’s jaw tightens, his fingers curling slightly at his sides. His usual composed demeanor takes on an edge of cold fury. "I assume the situation has been taken care of?"
Barry nods reassuringly. "William handled it. The Ministry has been informed about the trafficking group."
"Good." Adam exhales slowly, regaining his composure. "Make sure our injured members get some rest and provide them with extra compensation for their efforts. They risked their safety for this cause—they deserve proper care."
Barry’s expression softens slightly with approval. "Of course, Young Master. I’ll see to it personally."
Adam’s gaze sharpens again. "Where’s the Erumpent now?"
A knowing smile tugs at the corners of Barry’s lips. "It's in the nursery area of the basement. The little one is safe and well-fed. A bit skittish, but that’s to be expected."
Adam’s expression eases, and he says, "I’ll check it now and interview the new recruits later."
The basement, a critical sanctuary for rescued magical creatures, is magically expanded with the Undetectable Extension Charm, allowing it to house a vast variety of beings in carefully maintained enclosures. The air is thick with a mixture of earthy scents, faint traces of magical energy humming in the walls, and the distant sounds of creatures stirring in their habitats.
As he descends the stone steps, his keen eyes scan the vast underground refuge, where creatures from all corners of the magical world find solace. Nundus lounge in magically reinforced pens, their breath misting in the cool air. A Manticore eyes the passing figures with wary intelligence, its scorpion tail twitching idly. Occamies coil within their nest-like enclosures, shimmering in iridescent hues under the magical lighting. Bowtruckles cling to enchanted branches, chittering softly among themselves, while Mooncalves peer out curiously with their wide, luminescent eyes. A group of Doxies flit erratically in a magically contained section, their wings buzzing as they chatter. Billywigs hum in their habitat, their rapid movement making them little more than blurs. Further down, Graphorns graze in a magically simulated rocky terrain, their powerful forms shifting as they move.
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In one of the larger enclosures, a massive Runespoor coils in discomfort, one of its three heads hissing weakly while the others remain eerily still. Clearly, the creature is still recovering from its injuries. Adam makes a mental note to check on its condition later. Now, however, they had a new addition to the sanctuary—a baby Erumpent.
On the third floor from the bottom, Adam spots the small Erumpent, and it is causing absolute havoc in its enclosure. The sturdy metal barriers tremble as the young beast slams its weight against them, while caretakers scramble frantically to contain its boundless energy. Its thick, armored hide gleams under the enchanted lighting, and its glowing horn pulses faintly with barely restrained magic. Despite its young age, it already possesses impressive strength, tossing aside feeding troughs and kicking up dirt as it huffs in agitation.
The moment it sees Adam, however, its rampaging halts. With a sharp snort, it locks eyes with him before charging forward with surprising speed. The caretakers tense, some even reaching for their wands, but Adam remains perfectly still, unbothered by the incoming force. Just as the Erumpent reaches him, he bends down slightly, bracing himself as the creature buries its head against his chest with a forceful nuzzle. Despite its considerable weight, he remains steady, one hand reaching up to stroke its thick hide with practiced ease.
A small chuckle escapes him as he feels the beast relax against him. With little effort, he lifts it off the ground, cradling it in his arms. The caretakers exchange incredulous glances—handling an Erumpent, even a young one, was no small feat, yet Adam carries it with ease, as if it weighs no more than a large kneazle.
"Has it been fed?" he asks, glancing at the nearest caretaker.
The man, still catching his breath from the earlier chaos, nods quickly. "Yes, boss, but even after feeding, it keeps rampaging. Nothing we do seems to calm it down for long."
Adam hums in thought before giving the Erumpent a few more reassuring strokes. "No worries," he says lightly, his voice carrying a calm certainty. The little creature lets out a contented snuffle, nudging into him further before he carefully sets it back down.
Straightening, he turns to one of the caretakers, his expression sharpening. "Do we know where its mother is?"
The caretaker's face darkens, and he shakes his head. "We interrogated the captured traffickers, but they claimed they were just middlemen. Even under Legilimency, they have no knowledge of their supplier."
Adam exhales sharply, frustration flickering in his gaze. He had expected as much—trafficking rings were often complex, with layers of deception protecting those truly responsible.
"Keep digging," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Leaving the Erumpent in their care, Adam moves toward the Runespoor enclosure. The dimly lit chamber is lined with reinforced barriers, enchanted to contain the creature’s impressive size and strength. While not as massive as a Basilisk, the Runespoor is still a formidable sight—its long, banded body coiling lazily over the smooth stone floor. Each of its three heads moves independently, their serpent-like tongues flicking out to taste the air as he approaches. Over the past few weeks, it has grown accustomed to Adam and a few select caretakers, no longer reacting with aggression or suspicion when they enter its space.
"Has it eaten today?" Adam asks, his gaze flicking to one of the nearby caretakers.
The man says. "No, boss. We gave it its usual portion this morning, but it didn't eat then. It’s recovering well, but the left head is still sluggish."
Adam steps closer, moving with a confidence that speaks of experience. He kneels beside the great serpent, reaching out with a steady hand to pet each of its three heads individually. The middle head leans into his touch, hissing in what sounds almost like contentment, while the right one flicks its tongue at him in lazy acknowledgment. The left head, however, remains still, its usual sharp movements dulled by lingering weakness.
"I hope you're not giving these folks trouble," Adam murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "They're taking care of you, after all."
The Runespoor lets out a soft, guttural hiss in response, its tails twitching slightly.
Reaching into his bag, Adam pulls out a large sack of meat, the rich, iron-heavy scent filling the air. He carefully lays out generous portions, ensuring each head gets its share. The Runespoor eagerly snaps up the offering this time, its powerful jaws making quick work of the meal. The middle head eats at a steady pace, while the right head greedily devours its portion. The left head hesitates for a moment before finally joining in, though its bites remain noticeably weaker.
Adam watches closely, making a mental note to have the healers check on the sluggish head again. If its condition didn’t improve soon, they might need to explore stronger restorative potions.
After ensuring all creatures under his care are well-fed and comfortable, Adam ascends the stone steps back to the main floor, where the next task of the day awaits him. In a separate chamber, a group of new recruits stands waiting, some shifting nervously under his sharp gaze. Conducting interviews is a tedious but necessary task.
Fortunately, this batch proves to be a relief. None of them display the same suspicious behaviors as the Death Eater recruit he uncovered previously. Their backgrounds are clean, their motives seemingly aligned with the mission at hand.
As he wraps up, Barry approaches with his usual measured stride. "Young Master, William will provide you with a detailed report on the traffickers later," he informs him.
Adam nods, already anticipating what the report might contain. "Good. Keep me updated."
With his work for the day complete, Adam finally allows himself a moment to unwind. Stepping outside, he inhales the crisp evening air and makes his way toward the Three Broomsticks. The familiar buzz of chatter and clinking mugs fills the warm interior as he enters, seeking out his friends. The atmosphere is lively, filled with Hogwarts students enjoying their weekend, and for a brief time, he allows himself to simply blend into the moment.
However, as the evening wears on, his thoughts drift back to a more daring endeavor. The Acromantula colony. He has been steadily building trust with the smaller spiders, but today, he considers taking a bolder step—visiting alone, without Hagrid. It is a risk, one that could go horribly wrong if miscalculated. But Adam has never been one to shy away from danger when it comes to magical creatures. If he is ever to truly understand and earn their trust, he must face them on his own terms.
His decision made, he finishes his drink and steps back into the late afternoon, ready to test just how much ground he has gained with the Acromantulas.