Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

“Sell it?! How could I ever do that? I’d never sell it in my life,” said Ron. “I just want to work out how much gold it would be worth, so I can know its exact value, you see? You’re the expert in this sort of thing, Evan. Give me an estimate. You know, I rarely deal in such valuable magic items.”

“If I were to offer a price, I’d give you ten thousand gold Galleons for this Deluminator!” said Evan offhandedly, while trying to channel magic into the statue of the evil god he was holding. “Of course, no one would sell it for that price, so it’s just a theoretical value. And since Dumbledore left it —”

Evan couldn’t remember what he said after that.

As his magic entered the statue, he felt his very thoughts drifting out of his body, following the magic inside.

At that moment, his mind, soul, senses, everything merged with the magic.

His magic carried them into the statue through the single eye at its top. Passing into the idol felt like being forced into a narrow rubber tube, pressure crushing down on him from all sides.

Propelled by magic, he flowed forward like liquid, through an invisible passage.

Forward, forward!

Evan was really inside the statue now, and the pressure was mounting unbearably!

Just as he was about to suffocate, everything opened up; the pressure vanished, and he broke through into the heart of the statue.

Within the statue lay a world shrouded in mist, a white fog obscuring everything, with no end in sight.

Evan’s magic formed a golden arc, curving along a set path, streaking across the mist and extending deeper into the depths.

His thoughts followed the magic forward, and as he went deeper, Evan surveyed his surroundings with curiosity.

The surrounding space, though monotonous, was filled with mystery, a dreamlike illusion. Reality and illusion coexisted at this moment, a bit like waking from a dream. Evan could still sense his body and hear Ron’s voice from the bed next to him, but his consciousness was immersed in the misty illusion before him.

He could sense something hidden in the deepest part of the mist.

Evan wanted to delve deeper and explore it more carefully, but at that moment, the whole world began to shake violently, and his thoughts snapped back to reality.

He opened his eyes to see Ron shaking him hard.

“Stop shaking me, Ron!”

“Are you alright, Evan?” Ron asked nervously. “You were acting really weird. I was asking how much the Serpent Staff and the Sword of Gryffindor were worth, but you didn’t answer; you looked like you’d fallen asleep. At first I thought you really were asleep, but then I turned and saw that statue in your hand glowing. … That’s when I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what to do — if you hadn’t woken up, I’d have gone to fetch someone. Thank goodness you’re awake. Did that monster that Dark wizard transformed into do something to you?!”

Still used to that ethereal state from just now, Evan now felt his body heavy.

He felt dizzy and a little nauseous.

Ron’s voice buzzed in his ears; it was a feeling a bit like the discomfort after Apparating.

Ron was still going on, describing how strange Evan had looked. Evan shook his head, sat up, and raised his voice.

“I’m fine, Ron. I’m not Herpo the Foul. I just tried to focus my magic on the statue, and found it connects to a strange space. My thoughts followed my magic inside.”

“You’re saying there’s a strange space inside that statue? What’s in it?”

“Nothing but mist!” Evan muttered, staring at the statue in his hand. “I think this statue can directly cross space.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t get it.”

Ron stopped abruptly. Something creaked downstairs.

“What was that?”

“Probably just Charlie, now Mum’s asleep, sneaking off to regrow his hair,” said Ron uncertainly. He looked out the window at the yard, looking nervous. “It’s already this late, why hasn’t Harry come back yet?”

Evan looked out as well. In the pitch-black night, a faint orange light emanated from the tent in the garden.

Just as he was about to look away, there was a sudden movement. Someone emerged from the darkness and walked up to the tent.

Strange, who would come to the Burrow at this time?!

“Look, Evan, someone’s here!” said Ron, hurrying closer to the window. “It’s Lupin. What’s he doing here so late?”

“Maybe something’s happened,” said Evan. He too had recognized the visitor.

Lupin’s expression was grave, which was unsettling.

Evan suddenly had a bad feeling. Maybe something had really happened.

Lupin went into Sirius’s tent, and soon Harry was kicked out.

He seemed to be protesting something with Sirius and Lupin.

“Let’s go down there!” said Evan, putting away the statue of the evil god.

“No — we can’t. If the two of us go stomping down, Mum will hear us for sure,” Ron objected. “Trust me, if she finds out we’re still awake and sneaking around outside at this hour, she’ll absolutely blow her top. A brutal quintuple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of a damper on the wedding.”

“Come on, Ron, we’ll go this way. Mrs. Weasley won’t find out,” said Evan. He opened the window and leaped out.

Ron stared at him, mouth wide open in shock.

Out in the garden, the three who had been arguing fell silent, staring in disbelief at Evan as he dropped down from the sky.

Evan had plummeted from the air.

With a powerful wave of his wand, his body floated out in an arc, landing steadily beside Harry.

“That’s a beautiful Levitation trick, Evan!” Sirius praised.

“Thanks. What happened?”

“Nothing too serious,” Lupin hesitated a moment, then went on, “Well, I suppose it’s okay to tell you. It’s Scrimgeour. We got the news that after he left the Burrow and returned to the Ministry this afternoon, he summoned all the Aurors and is working on a plan to attack Malfoy Manor. The plan is to take action tomorrow morning.”

“Scrimgeour wants to fight Voldemort head-on!” Harry exclaimed in shock.

“He seems to have that in mind.”

“At last, he’s decided not to just sit and wait,” Sirius snorted heavily.

“But facing Voldemort, the Ministry doesn’t stand a chance,” said Evan with a frown. “Scrimgeour knows that perfectly well — so why would he do it?”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s gone mad. Or maybe something this afternoon pushed him over the edge!”

“What exactly did you talk about? I heard Scrimgeour brought you Dumbledore’s bequests — was there something in them?” Lupin asked.

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