Chapter 16

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January 1941


Having come to a mutual but grudging understanding about Marya Giles, life continued through January with the beginning of second term. Harry and Tom settled into the new status quo, and Magical Britain did much the same as she accustomed herself to Grindelwald's nightly attacks.

Now, though, Grindelwald had switched his raids to focus on industrial targets vital to the war: factories, strategic infrastructure, ports, and shipping centers, rather than his previous tactic of assassinating public figures.

However, the Dark Lord's strongest assaults focused on cutting off Magical Britain's food supply lines. Britain depended on imported food for her survival, importing most of it from her allies and neutral countries, especially the United States, Australia, and New Zealand.

On January 2nd, the Daily Prophet screamed, "BRITISH AIR FORCE FORCES ACOLYTE RETREAT AT PORTKEY CENTERS! Last night, the Air Force bravely repelled Grindelwald's Acolytes from reaching the main portkey center, where most of Britain's imports pass through."

The portkey centers were the beating heart of the magical populace, as these large industrial facilities were how imports and exports traveled across the border. Instead of using cargo ships or trains like Muggles did, Magicals used extension charms on their containers with goods and then signed up for a Ministry portkey to then transport their goods at a determined time and date, arriving at a portkey center. At these warehouses, the goods were deposited and then processed, only then able to be distributed to British wholesalers.

If Grindelwald had managed to take control of the portkey centers, it would have been catastrophic. Without steady supply lines, British cities would starve. 18% of the British wizarding population lived in London alone, coming out to a population of 430,000 of the total 2.3 million. Had Grindelwald destroyed these facilities and starved the population for long enough, he might have been able to negotiate peace with Britain.

And wasn't that a scary thought?

Meanwhile at Hogwarts, the pace of the academics picked up ruthlessly, leaving Harry with a rigid schedule that left little free time, leaving him the difficult task of prioritizing his extracurricular interests. Hard as the decision was, he put his renewed interest in exploring the castle firmly in first place—Tom had gotten him The Legends of Hogwarts, fourth edition from Alphard for Christmas. The volume explained the many wonderful secrecies and quirks of Hogwarts, and Harry found his attention captured by the legend of the Room of Requirement, a rumored seventh floor room that could only "be discovered by someone in need."

He scoured the entire floor in search of the room, but with failed attempt after failed attempt, the elusive room refused to even give him a hint of its existence. Nothing stood out to him, not the Headmaster's Office, not the Professor Griffith's Office, not the Arithmancy classroom, not the horrid tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

Now, three weeks later, he was about to give up hope on cracking the mystery, especially since Filch's cat was shrieking from behind him. Running faster, Harry cursed his stupidity at forgetting to muffle his footsteps—the cloak could protect him from unwelcome eyes, but not his own carelessness. And he was too busy to cast any spell at the moment.

Running past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief as Filch's cackles faded a bit. But as he turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks as Pringle appeared from the stairwell, his hand gripping a broom like it was a cane.

Harry stifled his groan, perspiration coating his palms. How could he have forgotten? Pringle and Filch always switched patrols at this exact time, and he was unlucky enough to get caught up in it. He was fucked. Utterly fucked. Being sandwiched between the two caretakers that were well-known for their affinity for corporal punishment, Harry reversed his direction.

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