Bab 21: Into the Frost: A New Wand Beckons
The journey to Sweden was uneventful, but as Hadrian stepped into the frosty air of Stockholm, he felt the familiar prickle of magic in the air—a sensation powerful and ancient, simmering just beneath the surface of the bustling Muggle city. There was something about this place, something that felt... different.
Hedwig, perched on his shoulder, glanced around with sharp, intelligent eyes. She gave a slight murmur of disapproval before bursting into flame, vanishing to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. Oryou coiled around his wrist and hissed softly before retreating into the tattoo on his skin. "Too cold for my tastes," she whispered, her voice a faint echo in his mind.
Unbothered by the chill, thanks to his demonic blood that kept him comfortably warm, Hadrian made his way through the cobbled streets of Stockholm, dressed in his usual attire—dark coat, combat boots, and fingerless gloves, an attire that drew stares from the more traditionally robed locals. His eyes, mismatched with one electric blue and the other sharp emerald green, scanned the streets as he walked with a steady stride, his aura radiating both power and mystery.
He soon found himself on the outskirts of the city, at the entrance of the Nordhavn Magisk Kvarter—the Northern Haven of Magic District. Crossing the threshold, he felt an immediate shift in the atmosphere. The district was hidden away, concealed from Muggle's eyes, and yet teeming with life. Nordic enchantments glimmered under the twilight sky, casting an ethereal glow over the district. Shops, stalls, and cottages nestled between ancient trees and crooked alleyways, their signs written in intricate runic script.
Hadrian took in the sights as he walked through the district. Unlike other magical communities, this one wasn't limited to just wizards and witches. He spotted dwarves working at a blacksmith stall, their hammers ringing out against enchanted metal, and an elven couple perusing potions at a small apothecary. Even goblins, larger and bulkier than the ones he was used to at Gringotts, walked among the crowd, nodding politely as they passed. This district felt like a gathering place for all magical beings who had found a way to coexist, their lives intertwined in a fragile harmony.
After a while, Hadrian's eyes were drawn to a small, unassuming shop tucked away at the end of an alleyway—Eldrun's Mastercrafted Wands. The shopfront had frosted windows, and a faint, golden glow spilled out onto the snow-covered ground. Something about it tugged at him, compelling him to step inside.
He pushed open the door, and warmth immediately enveloped him. The gentle crackling of fire greeted him, and the air was thick with the scent of ancient wood, herbs, and parchment. The shop was filled with neatly arranged wands displayed on velvet-lined shelves, each radiating a distinct aura.
At the counter stood an older man with a powerful presence. He had a single piercing eye, the other concealed by a dark leather eyepatch. His mane of silver-gray hair and the subtle runic designs woven into his cloak hinted at someone deeply knowledgeable in the mystical arts. This was no ordinary wandmaker.
The man turned his gaze on Hadrian, a subtle gleam in his eye. "Well now," he said, voice deep and resonant. "It's been a while since someone... interesting entered my shop."
Hadrian inclined his head. "I'm looking for a wand. Something... unique."
The man gave a low chuckle, the sound rich with mystery. "Aye, I had a feeling. The name's Eldrun, lad." He extended a weathered hand, which Hadrian shook, feeling the strength hidden in the old man's grip. "Choosing a wand is a delicate affair, especially for someone of your... distinct nature."
Hadrian raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. Eldrun's words were carefully chosen, hinting at an understanding without giving too much away.
"Let's see, then," Eldrun said, gesturing for Hadrian to follow. He led him to the back of the shop, where a variety of wood blocks lay on a long, polished table. "Place your hand over each of these. The right one will call to you."
Hadrian moved his hand slowly along the row, feeling nothing from most of the woods. But when he hovered over a particular block of pale, ethereal wood streaked with veins of green and blue, he felt an undeniable connection—a pull that was both grounding and invigorating.
Eldrun's eye gleamed with an approving glint. "Yggdrasil wood," he murmured, a note of respect in his tone. "Rare indeed. This wood is said to carry the essence of the World Tree."
"Yggdrasil... the World Tree?" Hadrian echoed, his curiosity piqued. "Isn't that just a myth?"
Eldrun gave a knowing smile. "Some say myth, others say reality. Yggdrasil is the tree that connects the Nine Realms, with branches that reach across worlds. It's not just a tree, but a crossroads, linking places beyond mortal comprehension." He paused, studying Hadrian closely. "Only a few are chosen by its wood, for it carries a power to perceive beyond the physical world, to walk between realms if one dares."
The idea resonated deeply with Hadrian, echoing the Peverell research he'd been studying about the veil and dimensions beyond. He couldn't help but feel that Yggdrasil wood was more than a simple choice—it felt like destiny.
"I'll take it," he said with a nod, his voice firm.
Eldrun inclined his head. "One last thing," he said. "A wand is most powerful when bonded with something personal."
Eldrun's gaze shifted to where Hedwig was perched, her feathers shimmering. "A feather from your familiar would deepen the bond."
Hedwig, sensing his intent, plucked one of her feathers and dropped it into Hadrian's hand.
"And a drop of venom," Eldrun added, glancing at Oryou's tattoo on Hadrian's wrist.
Oryou's voice echoed in his mind. "For this, I shall oblige." A small, sharp fang extended from the tattoo, allowing Hadrian to collect a single drop of venom into a vial Eldrun provided.
With Yggdrasil wood, Hedwig's feather, and Oryou's venom in hand, Eldrun went to his workbench. "It will take an hour to craft. Feel free to explore the district in the meantime."
Thanking him, Hadrian stepped out into the brisk air of the Nordhavn Magisk Kvarter once more. This time, he took his time exploring, and observing the diversity around him. Magical beings of all kinds walked the streets—dwarves bartering enchanted items, elves discussing spells in low tones, and goblins examining relics with practiced eyes. It was a community bound not by blood or species, but by magic itself, and the sight left Hadrian with a sense of quiet awe.
After a while, he made his way to meet his client. The job didn't originate with Eldrun; instead, it was a man named Frejorn Sigurdsson, a stout, middle-aged wizard with a thick fur cloak and an air of urgency. His face was lined with worry, and his eyes bore the weight of sleepless nights.
"Mr. Sigurdsson?" Hadrian asked as he approached.
The man looked up, giving Hadrian a wary nod. "You must be the one Morrison sent. I didn't expect someone so… young."
"I've had my share of experience," Hadrian replied, taking a seat across from him. "Now, about the job?"
Frejorn glanced around the tavern before leaning in, his voice lowered. "It started with grave robbings—disturbances in some of the ancient burial sites around Stockholm. At first, people thought it was petty thieves or practitioners of dark magic. But then people started disappearing."
Hadrian frowned. "Disappearances? How many?"
"Five, so far. Two were found, but… they weren't exactly alive when we got to them." Soren's expression turned grim. "They were… animated. Like puppets controlled by something dark. Corpses walking, with empty eyes."
Hadrian's expression hardened. "Necromancy?"
"More than just necromancy." Frejorn shuddered. "One survivor—a wizard who barely managed to Apparate away—claims he saw a demon commanding the undead. The Ministry sent a few Aurors, but only one returned, and he didn't last long after. He kept muttering about 'eyes of fire' and 'chains of death.'"
Frejorn's expression grew grave. "Someone has been disturbing the dead, robbing graves, and—worse—making people disappear. Locals have reported seeing the undead prowling the outskirts, and one wizard barely managed to escape after apparating away during an attack."
Hadrian's mind raced. A demon-leading undead was no ordinary foe. If necromancy and demonic power were combined, this would be a dangerous adversary indeed.
"Do you have any clues on where I might find this creature?" he asked.
Frejorn nodded, sliding a worn map across the table. "There's an abandoned church on the outskirts, past the burial grounds. Locals say it's cursed—no one goes near it, especially at night. But that's where the last sighting was."
Hadrian studied the map, committing the location to memory. "Understood. I'll take it from here."
Frejorn's shoulders relaxed slightly, relief evident in his expression. "Thank you. The people here don't deserve to live in fear."
After exchanging a few more details, Hadrian left Frejorn and made his way back through the district, the weight of his task settling over him. He'd faced demons before, but something told him this wouldn't be a straightforward fight. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched—Eldrun's single eye, sharp as a hawk's, boring into him from the shadows of his memory.
In the distance, a raven's caw echoed faintly, blending with the quiet murmur of the district as Hadrian disappeared into the night, ready to face whatever darkness awaited him.
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone