Chapter 127: Chapter 127: Ariadne

The crack of Arthur’s arrival was drowned out by a very familiar shriek.

“—and young Miss will NOT argue anymore! This is the THIRD potion and Winky will see it drunk properly!”

Arthur paused in his living room doorway, taking in the scene with barely suppressed amusement.

Winky stood with hands planted firmly on her hips, glaring up at the masked woman who sat cross-legged on the floor like a scolded child. Empty potion bottles littered the carpet around them.

“I said I was sorry,” the woman mumbled through her tactical mask. “But you are forcing me to drink unknown, bad-tasting drink. I had to try to escape—”

“Escape?” Winky’s voice rose to squeaky indignation. Miss tried to JUMP OUT A WINDOW! After torture curse! With dark magic still eating at Miss’s body!”

Aurora, nestled in the leather armchair by the fireplace with her own collection of empty bottles, raised a tumbler of whiskey in salute. “Didn’t know you were very passionate about healthcare, Winky.”

“Passionate?” Winky whirled on Aurora, eyes blazing. “Winky is PROFESSIONAL! Master’s guests do not die from stupidity on Winky’s watch! Bad for household reputation!”

Arthur cleared his throat.

Winky spun to face him, practically vibrating with righteous indignation. “Master Hayes! This stubborn human tried to escape before proper treatment! Said she didn’t need ’magical nonsense!’” The elf drew herself up proudly. “But Winky knows curse damage when she sees it. Had to use Sticking Charm to keep foolish girl from killing herself!”

“Excellent work, Winky,” Arthur said warmly. “Though perhaps we can release our guest from the floor now?”

Winky’s eyes narrowed at the masked woman. “If Miss promises to behave. No more window escapes.”

“I promise,” came the muffled agreement.

With a snap, the magic released. Despite the ordeal, she rose to her feet with clear strength—the potions had clearly worked.

“Thank you, Winky,” Arthur said warmly. “Perhaps some tea for everyone? And those ginger biscuits you made yesterday?”

Winky vanished, mumbling about “stubborn humans” but clearly pleased.

“Your companion—magical creature—whatever she is,” the woman said carefully, “is absolutely terrifying.”

“That’s Winky, my house-elf,” Arthur explained, settling into his chair. “They’re helpful beings, though sometimes their enthusiasm can be… overwhelming.”

“Overwhelming?” Incredulity colored her voice. “She bound me to the floor with invisible ropes! How is that even possible?”

“Magic makes many things possible,” Aurora said, still grinning. “Including saving stubborn warriors from their own pride. You needed treatment whether you admitted it or not.”

The woman straightened defensively. “I’ve survived worse than that curse. I could have managed.”

“Sure.” Aurora’s grin widened. “That’s why you were shaking like a leaf and your eyes were doing that twitchy thing.”

“They were not twitching!”

“Ladies,” Arthur interrupted before they could escalate. “Perhaps we could discuss how you both ended up in the middle of a Death Eater barbecue? Aurora, you know better than to engage dark wizards.”

Aurora had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t expect Death Eaters in broad daylight. Thought it was just some rogue wizard causing trouble. That I could have handled.”

“That depends entirely on the wizard,” Arthur pointed out. “If they knew about guns, you’d stand no chance.”

“But I took down one of those people—what did you call them?” the masked woman interjected.

“Death Eaters. Magical terrorists, essentially. They follow a dark lord, spread chaos, the usual extremist nonsense.”

“Magical terrorists.” The woman’s voice went flat. “So magic is real and there’s an entire world of wizards and witches and spells.”

“Completely real. Welcome to the world behind the curtain.”

“This is insane.” She began pacing, post-curse exhaustion losing to nervous energy. “Magic. Actual magic. Those lights that hit me—that green fire burning wrong—people appearing from nowhere—”

“Don’t forget the house-elf who stuck you to furniture,” Aurora added helpfully.

“Not helping!”

Arthur watched her process this new reality with something approaching sympathy. “It’s a lot to take in and everyone has this reaction. Well, everyone who survives learning about it.”

The woman stopped pacing. “What do you mean, survives?”

“The magical world has stayed hidden for centuries,” Arthur explained. “Usually when non-magical people stumble across it, they’re either memory-wiped or…” He let the implication hang.

“Killed.” She said it flatly.

“The Death Eaters you encountered certainly would have. They consider non-magical people less than human.”

“Charming.” She resumed pacing. “How has this stayed hidden? I’ve been all over the world, seen things that would make most people question reality, but never… this.”

“International Statute of Secrecy,” Aurora supplied. “Biggest cover-up in human history. Wizards hide, normal folks stay ignorant, everyone’s theoretically happy.”

“Normal people.” The woman tested the term with obvious distaste. “Can anyone learn magic?”

Arthur shook his head. “Magic is something you’re born with. Or not. And before you ask—you don’t have it. I’d sense it if you did.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Seems unfair. Being marked as different from birth.”

“Perhaps,” Arthur conceded. “But life rarely concerns itself with fairness. Besides, you have advantages over normal people too. Your chi manipulation, for instance.”

“Chi?” Aurora perked up. “Is that how you defeated my entire security team single-handedly?”

“Yes, but I earned that ability,” the woman said stiffly. “Through years of training and discipline. Not like magic, which you simply have at birth.”

“You think magic doesn’t require work?” Arthur leaned forward. “Raw talent without training gets you killed. I’ve seen wizards so incompetent they’d lose to Aurora in a straight fight.”

“Hey!” Aurora protested. “I’d like to think I could take more than just the incompetent ones.”

“With a gun and the element of surprise? Perhaps. Face to face? You’d last about three seconds.”

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”

The woman watched their banter with what might have been envy. When they quieted, she asked, “So what happens to me now? Memory wipe?”

“That’s your choice,” Aurora said, sobering. “You could forget tonight. Go back to your life.”

“Or?”

“Or you keep the knowledge and deal with whatever comes,” Arthur said. “Though given your vendetta, the information might prove useful.”

“How?”

“Now that you know magic exists, don’t you think you might face magical threats one day?”

The woman’s posture shifted, tension threading through her frame.

“Speaking of your mission,” Aurora interjected, “is that why you broke into MI6? What were you searching for?”

“She broke into MI6?” Arthur turned to Aurora with exaggerated disappointment. “And got away? Your security really is terrible.”

“She’s enhanced with this chi thing!” Aurora protested. “That’s cheating!”

“Excuses, excuses.” He turned back to their guest. “But Aurora’s right. What were you after?”

The woman hesitated, then: “Information on the Hand. Financial records, government connections, supply chains. Anything that might lead to their operations.”

“The Hand?” Aurora’s playful demeanor vanished. “You’re hunting the Hand? Alone? That’s not brave, that’s suicidal.”

“Then I’ll die fighting.” The words came out flat, final.

“That’s the stupidest—”

“I’ve tried talking sense into her,” Arthur interrupted. “She’s remarkably stubborn. Speaking of which, why are you still wearing that mask? It’s rather disconcerting, and I’ve already seen your face.”

The woman’s head turned toward Aurora. “She hasn’t.”

Aurora straightened, offense radiating from every line. “Seriously? After everything tonight, you think I’d betray you?”

“Nothing personal. Just practical security.”

“Practical?” Aurora’s voice climbed. “I saved you from torture!”

“We saved each other.” The woman’s tone remained infuriatingly calm. “You killed my torturer. I knocked out the Death Eater targeting you. We’re even.”

“Even?” Aurora’s glass hit the side table hard. “That’s not how this works!”

“Isn’t it? Without me as a distraction, they’d have focused on you immediately. Likely killed you before help arrived.”

“Without you standing in the open like a tourist, I could have hidden properly!”

“From wizards who can appear at will? They’d have found you regardless.”

Arthur leaned back, thoroughly entertained as the argument escalated. Neither woman would concede owing the other anything.

“That’s the most ridiculous logic—”

“It’s simple tactical assessment—”

“You’re impossible!”

“You’re being irrational!”

They might have continued indefinitely, but Aurora’s radio crackled to life.

“Thatcher here,” she answered, still glaring at their guest. A pause. Her eye roll was visible from space. “Yes, I’m alive. No, I’m not compromised. Yes, I’m coming in.” Another pause. “Because I’m TALKING to you, Morrison, that’s how you know I’m not dead!”

She stood with sharp movements. “I have to go before they send a retrieval team.” She pointed at the masked woman. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“It is from my perspective.”

“Arthur,” Aurora said through gritted teeth, “portal please. And maybe explain the concept of gratitude to our friend here.”

“I understand gratitude fine,” the woman said coolly. “I simply don’t owe you any.”

Aurora’s growl of frustration followed her through the portal Arthur obligingly opened.

Blessed silence descended.

The woman shifted on the couch. “Now that she’s gone, may I leave as well?”

“Not quite yet.” Arthur shook his head. “Those potions were designed for wizards. I should check for adverse reactions in non-magical physiology.”

“Is that likely?”

“Probably not, but Winky would never forgive me if I let you leave and you dropped dead in an alley somewhere. She takes guest welfare seriously.”

After a moment’s consideration, she followed him deeper into the manor. The consultation room made her pause—shelves packed with books in dozen languages, instruments both magical and mechanical, charts covering everything from anatomy to astronomy.

“This is… extensive,” she murmured.

“I like to be thorough.” He gestured to a comfortable chair. “Please, sit. This won’t take long.”

She moved with that particular grace he remembered from their alley fight. “Fine. But then I really do need to go.”

“Of course. Though I still don’t know what to call you besides ’mysterious thief’.”

A pause. “Ariadne. Ariadne Anderson.”

“Ariadne.” He tested the name. “Greek origins. But Anderson… interesting combination.”

“My parents had eclectic tastes.”

Arthur began weaving diagnostic spells, golden light playing over her form. “The mask really isn’t necessary here.”

“Force of habit.”

“It’s also blocking some of my readings.”

She sighed but reached up, pulling away hood and mask in one motion.

Arthur’s diagnostic spell flickered.

He’d glimpsed her face during their fight, but here in proper lighting, she was genuinely striking. Not just attractive—he’d known plenty of beautiful women. But there was something about the way intelligence sharpened her features, how determination set her jaw, the contrast between delicate bone structure and eyes that had seen too much.

“Problem?” she asked, noting his pause.

“No, just—” Arthur forced his attention back to the diagnostic patterns. “You’re not what I expected from someone with Chaste connections. The organization is traditionally Asian.”

A small smile played at her lips. “Because I’m not Asian. My father was Norwegian, my mother Greek.”

“Norwegian.” Arthur blinked. “How does a Norwegian end up with ancient Chinese warrior monks?”

She was quiet long enough that he thought she wouldn’t answer. Then: “My father was obsessed with martial arts. Sought out every school he could. Found K’un-Lun, trained there. Chaste recruited him, since he could pass where none of their Asian members could.”

Arthur tilted his head. “That’s quite a story.”

“The short version,” she added.

Arthur completed his diagnostic work, noting the readings. “Good news. You’re perfectly fine. The potions integrated flawlessly—no adverse reactions.”

“I feel better than fine, actually. Stronger.”

“Winky chose well. Those three potions together enhance natural healing and provide temporary physical augmentation.” He began putting equipment away. “Should wear off in a few hours.”

“And then?”

“Then you’ll feel normal again. Though I recommend actual rest. The Cruciatus Curse leaves psychological echoes even after the physical healing.”

She stood, clearly ready to leave. “Thank you. For the treatment and for… earlier. With those terrorists.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “What will you do now?”

“Continue my mission.”

“Hunting the Hand alone?” Arthur didn’t bother hiding his skepticism. “How’s that worked out so far?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’ve had successes.”

“I’m sure. But tonight you learned magic exists. The Hand has access to that world and everything it brings.” He turned to face her fully. “You’re skilled, Ariadne. Remarkably so. But skill has limits against numerous enemies with superior resources.”

“I’ll adapt.” But uncertainty colored her voice now. “Can I ask one more thing? About magic?”

“Of course.”

“Is there really no way for someone like me to learn? No exceptions?”

Arthur considered the question. “The magic I use requires inborn talent. But other forms of power exist. Chi manipulation is one. With dedication, you might reach levels others consider impossible.”

“But that would take years to match what you can do.”

“True. But your enemies aren’t at my level. You don’t need to match me—just them.”

She absorbed this. “So I’m free to go?”

“You were always free. You’re my guest, not my prisoner.”

“Your house-elf might disagree.”

Arthur smiled. “Winky’s protective, not possessive. Though I’d recommend using the front door. She takes window escapes personally.”

“I’ll remember that.” Ariadne moved toward the exit, then paused. “Thank the government agent for me. Despite our… disagreement.”

“Aurora will be pleased to hear it. Good luck with your quest, Ariadne. Perhaps our paths will cross again.”

She turned and looked at him with confusion.

“I’ve always been curious about K’un-Lun. The intersection of martial arts and mysticism fascinates me. Perhaps someday we could compare notes.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Planning to take away my one advantage?”

“What advantage?” Arthur’s smile turned playful. “If memory serves, I won our bout quite decisively.”

“I suspect you cheated. Used magic subtly.”

“I assure you, if I’d used magic, the fight would have ended before you could blink.” He opened the door for her. “I didn’t need magic to defeat you, Ariadne. Just experience and good timing.”

“We’ll see about that.” She pulled her mask back on. “If we meet again, I’ll be ready.”

“I look forward to it.”

She slipped out into the pre-dawn darkness, moving like smoke given purpose.

Arthur watched her go, a thoughtful expression on his face. Something about her nagged at him—not attraction, though she was undeniably beautiful. It was something else.

He found himself hoping she’d survive long enough for their paths to cross again.

Though he couldn’t quite explain why.

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