HP: The Artisan's Path: Chapter 99

Hi all, 

Here’s the first chapter of the week. Harry has to deal with a hostile guardian, but that’s the least of his problems. 

Chapter 99 

The metallic construct emerged from the darkness. At first, Harry saw only the glint of silver legs, each as thick as his torso, their segmented surface reflecting his wand light in unsettling patterns. The legs descended one by one—first one pair, then another, then another—until eight massive limbs emerged from the shadows above.

The construct's body followed: an enormous spider-like form. Its thorax and abdomen were crafted from the same liquid metal as its legs, the surface flowing like mercury despite maintaining its solid shape. 

Its head bore little resemblance to a true spider's. Instead of eight eyes, it had smooth, featureless silver that somehow gave the impression of watching his every movement. Two enormous chelicerae extended from its face, crafted from the same flowing metal as the rest of its form, clicking together with an oddly musical chime that echoed through the chamber.

As it touched the ground, the construct's legs moved with impossible fluidity, each step precise and measured despite its massive size. 

Harry's mouth went dry. His instincts screamed at him, every nerve ending telling him to run. 

He was in a precarious situation. His magical reserves were still depleted from the healing spell he cast, and the fight with the Leshy had drained him further. His staff hung useless at his leg—he didn't have enough magic to use it.

The construct attacked without warning. Its arm elongated like a spear, forcing Harry to dive behind one of the old tables. The wooden furniture exploded into splinters as the metallic limb punched through it. Harry rolled away, his battered ribs screaming in protest.

“Screw this,” Harry groaned. “I’m getting out of here.”

His chances of defeating the construct were slim, and that was before considering his current condition.    

He transformed into his Demiguise form and immediately turned invisible. He bolted for the tunnel entrance, heart hammering against his ribs.

The construct's reaction shattered his hopes. Its metallic limbs lashed out with perfect accuracy, tracking his movement despite his invisibility. Harry darted between the attacks, his enhanced Demiguise senses allowing him to process the construct's movements with supernatural clarity.

He was halfway to the tunnel when his transformation failed without warning. The silver fur melted away, leaving him human and exposed. Harry stumbled, his mind reeling from the unexpected shift. In all his time as an Animagus, this had never happened.

The construct's limb whistled through the air where his head had been a split second before. Only battle-honed instincts saved him as he dropped into a roll, feeling the displaced air ruffle his hair.

Then the construct did something that made his blood run cold. Its limbs shot past him, striking the tunnel entrance with devastating force. Stone cracked and shuddered as the construct methodically collapsed his only escape route.

The tonnes of rock crashed down, sealing the passage completely. The construct had trapped him here deliberately—a coldly logical solution to prevent his escape. 

He scrambled backwards as the construct turned its attention back to him, its featureless head tilting at an angle that somehow managed to convey deadly purpose. His failed transformation had cost him his best chance at escape, and now he was trapped in this chamber with something that had no intention of letting him leave alive.

He hurled a Fireball spell card at the construct. The explosion barely scorched its metallic surface. The creature's other arm whipped towards him, forcing him to duck. The limb struck the stone wall behind him, leaving deep gouges in the rock.

Harry sprinted between the scattered furniture, trying to put distance between himself and the construct. Its limbs lashed out like silver whips, smashing everything in their path. He dove under a particularly vicious swipe, feeling the air displacement ruffle his hair.

Another metallic appendage caught his ankle, yanking him off his feet. Harry twisted as he fell, throwing an Incarcerator spell card. The magical ropes wrapped around the construct's arm, giving him enough time to wrench free. The construct shredded the bindings effortlessly, but Harry had already scrambled away.

His back hit a wall. The construct's arms shot towards him from both sides, trying to pin him. Harry dropped and rolled forward, passing beneath the crossed limbs. The metal appendages struck the wall with enough force to crack the stone.

Desperate for breathing room, Harry flung another Fireball card. The explosion forced the construct back momentarily, though it seemed more annoyed than damaged. Its silver surface rippled like disturbed mercury before it pressed its attack again.

A wild dodge sent Harry stumbling onto the raised platform near the gate. He nearly fell against the doorway, catching himself at the last second. The construct lunged—then suddenly pulled its strike short, its limb stopping just inches from Harry's face.

An idea formed in Harry's mind. He almost dismissed it immediately—surely the gate was too robust for it to work. But then again, did the construct know that? Perhaps its protective instincts could be turned against it.

Harry pulled his remaining Fireball cards from his pocket—he had five left. He managed to place the first card at the gate's base before the construct seemed to understand his intention. Its form rippled violently, and it shot forward with frightening speed.

Harry dove to the side, narrowly avoiding its grasp. He slapped another card against the gate's foundation as he rolled past. The construct's arm whistled through the air where his head had been moments before.

Staying close to the gate was his only advantage. The construct's attacks became increasingly precise but restrained, forced to pull its strikes short to avoid hitting the gate. Harry used the confined space to his advantage, ducking and weaving as he fought to place the remaining cards.

The third card went down behind one of the gate's support pillars. The fourth he barely managed to stick in place as the construct's arm grazed his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. His ribs screamed in protest as he twisted away from another strike.

The fifth card he fumbled, nearly dropping it as he ducked beneath a sweeping attack. The construct's limb passed so close he felt the air displacement ruffle his hair. He slammed the card into place with trembling fingers.

As he reached to place the final card, the construct's arm shot out, wrapping around his wrist. The pressure was immense, threatening to crush bone. Harry gritted his teeth against the pain, stretching his other hand towards the gate with the last card.

"Back off," Harry said firmly. "I'll activate this card if you attack me again. They are spaced close enough together that it will trigger a chain reaction. The explosion might not destroy the gate completely, but it would definitely damage it."

The construct froze, its featureless head tilted at an angle that suggested it was processing this new development. After a moment, it released Harry's wrist, withdrawing its limb with deliberate slowness.

The construct remained motionless for several long seconds. Then it took a single step backwards, its liquid metal form rippling in what might have been agitation.

He internally breathed a sigh of relief. His bluff worked. He doubted his spell cards could damage the gate, but it appeared the construct wasn’t smart enough to realise it.

Harry slumped against the gate, his body protesting every movement. Though the construct had backed off, he knew he couldn't afford to lower his guard. His eyelids felt like lead weights, but he forced them to stay open. One moment of weakness could prove fatal.

Studying the construct, he pondered its origins. The sophistication of its design seemed almost impossible for the Founders' era, yet its presence here suggested otherwise. Then again, Galahad had created the Cursed Vaults and countless other remarkable artefacts. Perhaps this guardian wasn't so far-fetched. He didn't know the date when it was built either. For all he knew, it could be a century or two old. 

He turned his attention to the gate itself. The platform held little besides the two pillars flanking the massive doorway. No obvious control mechanism was visible, leaving him puzzled about its operation. He wondered if it had ever worked—the journal hadn't confirmed a successful activation. The runes covering its surface were obscured but it couldn’t hide the gate’s sheer complexity. There had to be thousands of runic arrays inscribed into its surface. 

The thought of Galahad visiting the Fae Realm didn't seem implausible. The Master Artisan's capabilities were extraordinary, and his knowledge surpassed normal bounds. Perhaps Merlin had sparked his interest in deities, leading him down this path of exploration.

It wasn't hard to determine why Galahad chose this island to build the gate. He mentioned in his journal that there was a rift below the island that provided him with all the magic he needed to power the gate. The ambient energy Harry had felt since arriving suddenly made more sense—they'd been walking above an incredibly powerful rift this entire time.

It could also explain why there were so many strange plants and other materials on the island that the Americans and Russians were fighting over. Baba Yaga most likely knew about the gate and was targeting it specifically. 

Checking his watch, Harry frowned. The others must have heard the commotion with the Leshy, and the hole in the ground wasn't exactly subtle. Surely they would find him soon. He just needed to stay alert until then.

To fight off his exhaustion, he decided to attempt communication with the construct. 

"Look, I didn't mean to intrude here," he said. "So, why don’t you dig that tunnel out and allow me to leave? I promise I won’t tell anyone about this place.”

Silence. 

“Do you have a name? How about I call you Spidey? You look like a Spidey.” 

The construct's featureless head tilted slightly, suggesting it was listening, but it made no attempt to respond. Though he hadn't expected it to speak, its lack of communication was disappointing.

Harry retrieved the Source from the symbol on his hand, noting how the construct's featureless head tilted with sudden interest. It seemed more intrigued by the book's appearance than any of his previous attempts at communication.

The symbol had been warm for a while, indicating waiting messages that he'd been too preoccupied to check. 

==========

The host has completed a task!

Task #20: Discover the secret on the island within a day.

Reward: 50,000 general experience. 

==========  

The host has received a new task!

Task #21: Discover a way out of the gate room within the next hour.

Reward: 100,000 general experience. 

==========  

Harry's brows furrowed. Like the previous task, this one also had a time restriction. The Source's tasks were usually open-ended. Unlike the previous one, however, this deadline felt ominous, and he had no desire to discover the consequences of failure. 

He pressed the timer button on his watch so he could keep track of how much time had remaining. The time felt way too short considering his current situation.   

Harry flipped over to the inventory page to see what supplies he had on hand. He spotted his Zephyr Boots and grimaced. He should have been wearing them—they would have proved invaluable against Leshy and Spidey. Although he hadn't anticipated combat, perhaps he should have. Trouble seemed to find him with remarkable consistency.

He pulled out the boots and put them on. If he could heal his injuries, they might provide an escape route. They were significantly improved from its first iteration giving him more operation time before they had to be recharged.

A sudden thought struck Harry, prompting him to turn to the Magical Emporium page. Though the store displayed several new Fae items, he was hesitant to use them, especially after his disturbing experience with the Fae communication stone.

Harry studied an item called the Restoration Draught. Despite his misgivings about Fae items, its description offered a tempting solution: complete magical regeneration by temporarily widening his magical conduit. The consequences would be severe—physical weakness would strike in twenty-four hours when the expanded conduit snapped back to its normal size.

The mechanics sounded dubious. Forcing his magical conduit to expand several times its natural size seemed dangerous at best. But with his reserves depleted and time running short, he had few alternatives.

Having made his decision, Harry purchased and quickly consumed the draught, whereupon an extraordinary sensation of warmth coursed through his body. As the intense feeling gradually subsided, he conducted a swift assessment of his magical reserves, finding them completely replenished. 

He immediately cast a parseltongue healing spell, allowing himself a moment of relief as the pain in his injured ribs finally dissipated. He stood up and stretched. Although he still felt a little stiff, most of the pain had disappeared. 

Glancing back at Spidey, he got another idea. He sat back down and retrieved the Province watches from his inventory.   

Harry laid them out in front of him, immediately drawing Spidey's attention. The construct crept forward, its liquid metal form rippling with what seemed like recognition. Its previous hostility had vanished, replaced by an almost childlike curiosity.

"Do you recognise these?" Harry asked. "These are artefacts made by your creator, Galahad."

Spidey's featureless head tilted, suggesting rapt attention. Encouraged by this response, Harry began recounting his history with Galahad. He described how he had found the pocket watches, his exploration of the Water Vault, and the mysterious commission he had received from the artisan guild that he suspected had come from Galahad.

"So, knowing all that, are you going to let me go?" Harry finished, hoping his explanation had convinced the construct of his intentions.

Rather than responding directly, Spidey turned and walked towards the far end of the chamber, an area Harry hadn't yet explored. Before disappearing into the darkness, the construct paused, turning back to face him. It tapped the ground repeatedly with its legs in a clear invitation to follow.

"Sure, I'll follow you," Harry said, pushing himself to his feet. "It's not like you were trying to kill me a few minutes ago."

He recast his Lumos spell and trailed after the construct, maintaining a cautious distance. Despite Spidey's apparent change in demeanour, he wasn't keen on testing its patience.

At the chamber's end, Spidey stopped before what appeared to be a dead end. The construct stomped one metallic leg against the floor. To Harry's surprise, the ground shifted, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness.

Harry approached the opening, pointing his illuminated wand downwards. The light failed to penetrate the darkness. "Where does this lead?"

Spidey remained silent, simply gesturing towards the staircase with one of its legs.

"Alright, I'm going," Harry muttered.

The descent took several minutes. As Harry spiralled downwards, he noticed a familiar sensation growing stronger—the same magical tingling he'd felt on the island's surface. The feeling nagged at his memory until he placed it: it was identical to being near a rift.

Lanterns flickered to life along the walls as he reached the bottom, illuminating a short tunnel that ended at an ornate door. The door swung open at his approach, revealing another vast chamber beyond.

Harry stepped through, his eyes widening at the sight before him. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=

Baba Yaga soared through the air, her mortar and pestle cutting through the clouds. Her iron teeth gnashed together, producing a sound like nails on bone as she approached the island. Her wild grey hair writhed with maggots, whilst her skeletal form twisted unnaturally within robes that reeked of grave dirt and decay.

"Useless, all of them!" she snarled, her voice like metal scraping against stone. "They couldn’t do as instructed and steal the island from the Americans.” 

The remains of her last servant still clung to her iron teeth—a reminder to the others of the price of failure. She had torn out his throat when he'd delivered news of the Americans' success in claiming the island.

Her red eyes blazed with hatred as she recalled how her servants had failed to secure Galahad's gate. The old artisan had been clever, hiding his creation on an island that had remained concealed for centuries. She had only discovered its location by chance.

The ritual that had brought her to Earth had shredded her original form, forcing her to rebuild herself with iron and magic. It had taken decades to recover her full strength, feeding on children's nightmares and the screams of the dying. Her siblings were weaker—they would never survive such a crossing. But Galahad's gate would change everything. A permanent, stable pathway between realms would allow them to cross without risk.

"Soon," she crooned, stroking her pestle with her fingers. "Soon you shall all walk this realm again, and we shall remind these mortals who are really in control."

As she approached the beach, she spotted the American wizards' camp. Her lips peeled back in a horrific smile, revealing row upon row of iron teeth.

With a gesture, she sent her magic coursing into the surrounding trees. The forest seemed to writhe as dozens of trees transformed, their bark twisting into mockeries of human form as they became Leshies. Their wooden faces emerged screaming, branches cracking and reforming into limbs.

"Go, my children!" she commanded. "Tear them apart!”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-=

Charlus finished casting diagnostic spells over the torn earth where the second Leshy had been rampaging. The creature had proved far more formidable than the first, but their combined efforts had brought it down. He cursed himself for not anticipating there might be another one lurking in the forest.

His examination was interrupted by the arrival of Harry's girlfriends, cradling the two Demiguises. Their faces were etched with panic.

"What's the matter?" Charlus demanded.

"Harry's gone missing," Daphne said, her voice tight with worry.

Minerva stepped forward. "What do you mean, he's gone missing?"

The girls quickly explained how Harry had gone to examine the Leshies' remains with the Demiguises. But the creatures had returned alone, clearly agitated. Though they couldn't understand what the Demiguises were trying to communicate, Harry's absence spoke volumes.

Charlus and Minerva shared a horrified look before turning to study the churned ground with new understanding. The Leshies' frantic digging suddenly made sense. Had it been searching for Harry? The creature had already killed two wizards—if Harry was trapped down there...

Charlus raised his wand, ready to start excavating, but Elizabeth's voice interrupted him.

"Wait," she warned. "If Harry is buried somewhere under there, disturbing the dirt could trigger another collapse."

"Then what are we supposed to do?" Minerva demanded. "Harry's life could be hanging in the balance."

James stepped forward. "We proceed with caution. I suggest we dig another hole far enough away from this one so it won't trigger this one to collapse further."

"Very well," Charlus agreed.

"I tried calling Harry on his two-way mirror," Hermione added, "but he's not answering. Either he can't respond, or something's happened to his mirror."

Before Charlus could respond, red sparks shot into the sky from the direction of the beach—the signal for serious trouble.

"We need to get back to the beach," Elizabeth said. "Security wouldn't have sent a signal if there wasn't a major issue."

"I'm staying here to look for my grandson," Charlus said firmly.

"Charlus, you go," Minerva insisted. "The girls and I will stay here and look for Harry."

When Charlus hesitated, Minerva added, "Who's the Transfiguration Master here? If I can't help Harry, then it's unlikely you will make a difference."

After a moment's consideration, Charlus nodded. He turned and followed Elizabeth and her team as they rushed back towards the beach, leaving Minerva and the girls to continue the search for Harry.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=-=-= 

A massive rift dominated the chamber's centre, its swirling energies casting ever-changing patterns of light across the walls. Unlike the smaller rifts he'd encountered before, this one was enormous—easily five metres in diameter. Its edges rippled and twisted, but the rift itself remained stable, likely anchored by the runic arrays he could see carved into the surrounding stone.

The chamber itself was designed around the rift. Curved walkways spiralled around it at various heights, connected by floating platforms that shifted position periodically. The walls were covered in monitoring equipment that somehow merged seamlessly with the stonework, suggesting later additions to Galahad's original work.

Multiple cables and crystalline conduits extended from the rift towards the ceiling, presumably channelling its power to the gate above. The entire setup was an engineering marvel, demonstrating a level of magical sophistication that left Harry speechless.

Harry checked his watch—he had twenty minutes remaining before the Source's deadline. The rift chamber was fascinating, but he needed to focus on escape. Perhaps there was another exit hidden among the spiralling walkways.

Harry circled the rift chamber's perimeter, searching for any other exits. The curved walkways led to several alcoves. One particular doorway caught his attention.

It opened into a control room roughly the size of a Hogwarts classroom. Banks of crystals lined the walls. In the centre, a circular stone pedestal held an enormous scrying mirror.

The mirror displayed a detailed map of the island. Dozens of green dots moved across the display, concentrated mainly around the beach area with several scattered through the forest. Their movement patterns matched what he'd expect from the people on the island.

Harry studied the crystalline control matrix embedded in the pedestal, each crystal carved with intricate runic sequences. The ward monitoring crystals were easy enough to interpret—red clearly indicated failure. Though the system was far more sophisticated than anything he'd encountered before, the basic principles of ward control remained similar.

Two failed wards in particular drew his attention—the island's defensive enchantments. Without them, the island was visible and accessible to anyone. Another screen showed a permission-based ward list containing a single name: Galahad. Though currently inactive, this ward could control access to the island.

After some fumbling with the unfamiliar interface, Harry managed to add himself, his grandparents, and his girlfriends to the list. Some instinct had him activate it, even though he knew it couldn't remove anyone already present on the island.

His attention snapped back to the main display as red dots suddenly bloomed across the beach area. The hostile indicators spread rapidly, suggesting a coordinated attack force. Unfortunately, he had been too late to stop them from invading the island. 

Harry's hands flew across the controls, searching desperately for anything that might help. After several tense minutes, he found what he needed—a control to open a hatch from the main chamber. He activated it at once.

Before leaving, another section of the interface drew his attention. A separate panel controlled Spidey's defensive parameters, currently set to protect only the gate chamber. Harry studied the controls carefully—they allowed him to expand the construct's patrol zone to encompass the entire island. Without hesitation, he modified the settings, hoping the construct would now help defend everyone above ground.

The panel flashed green, confirming the changes had taken effect. Harry double-checked the new parameters—he couldn't afford any mistakes with something this powerful. Satisfied the construct would now protect the whole island rather than just the underground chambers, he rushed back towards the gate chamber.

He pulled the shrunken Potter Mobile from his necklace. As he restored it to full size, Spidey approached, its liquid metal form rippling with what seemed like curiosity.

"The island's under attack," Harry explained quickly. 

The construct's entire form shuddered before it turned and began climbing rapidly towards the newly opened exit. It was just large enough for Spidey to fit through.

"Wait!" Harry shouted. "There are innocent people up there—you can only attack the ones I point out!"

The construct showed no sign of hearing as it scaled the wall. Harry jumped into the Potter Mobile, engaging the flight systems. As he ascended through the opening, he prayed he would reach the others in time.

Harry emerged through the hatch in the Potter Mobile, hovering briefly to assess the situation. Spidey was already charging through the forest towards the beach, its metallic legs leaving deep gouges in the earth.

Before he could follow, shouting from below caught his attention. His grandmother and girlfriends were huddled behind a massive oak tree, clearly startled by Spidey's dramatic exit. At least the construct hadn't attacked them.

He brought the vehicle down, and they rushed towards him immediately.

"Where have you been?" Minerva demanded.

"What was that silver thing?" Hermione asked.

"Did that hatch just open in the ground?" Daphne added.

"Is that where you disappeared to?" Susan questioned.

"Are you hurt?" Gabrielle called out.

Harry cut them off with a wave of his hand. "No time to explain. The island's being invaded. Hop in."

They scrambled into the vehicle without further protest, understanding the urgency in his voice. The two Demiguises leapt into his lap, chittering nervously as he steered the Potter Mobile towards the beach.

Through the windscreen, he could see smoke rising above the tree line. The sounds of combat grew louder as they approached—spellfire, explosions, and something that sounded disturbingly like screaming trees.

Harry pushed the accelerator to its limit. Whatever was happening at the beach, they needed to get there quickly. 

Harry arrived at the beach and took in the chaos below. His grandfather and dozens of other wizards fought alongside Spidey against a horde of Leshies. Though the wizards cast wary glances at the metallic construct, they seemed to accept its help against their common enemy.

Movement beyond the battle caught his attention. Hovering over the ocean was a sight that made his blood run cold—an ancient witch astride what appeared to be a giant mortar and pestle. She observed the battle with an air of detached amusement until her gaze shifted upward, meeting his eyes. Even at this distance, her grotesque smile sent shivers down his spine.

"Who's that?" Minerva asked, her voice tight with tension.

"Baba Yaga," Harry said grimly.

His grandmother drew in a sharp breath. Behind him, his girlfriends made sounds of dismay. They all understood the implications of a deity's presence.

Harry felt it in his bones—this was different from his encounter with Merlin. The deity had been diminished, a shadow of his former power. But Baba Yaga appeared at full strength, her hideous form radiating raw magical energy.

The witch suddenly surged forward through the air. Harry tensed, but before she could reach them, she slammed into an invisible barrier. The impact sent her tumbling backwards, and her inhuman screech of rage echoed across the water.

"What happened?" Susan asked.

"I activated the defensive wards."

"Will they hold her?" Minerva's question carried an edge of worry.

"She's a deity. I don't have a clue," Harry replied with a shrug.

Baba Yaga raised her hand, launching a bolt of sizzling magic at the barrier. It dissipated harmlessly, but she continued her assault, each blast as ineffective as the last.

"The barrier's holding for now," Harry said, angling the Potter Mobile downward. "Let's descend and help the others."

The vehicle dropped towards the ground, leaving the frustrated deity to rage against the wards. Harry landed the Potter Mobile near the battle's edge, ready to join the fight.

"Stay in the vehicle," Minerva ordered sharply. "You've done enough today."

Before Harry could protest, she leapt out and joined the fray, her wand already moving in complex patterns. His girlfriends remained in the Potter Mobile, watching anxiously through the windows.

From his vantage point, Harry watched the battle unfold. Charlus stood at the centre of the chaos, great gouts of magical flame erupting from his wand. The fire spells proved devastatingly effective against the Leshies, who shrieked as they burned. Several of the creatures tried to surround him, but wizards protected him with shield charms, recognising him as their best chance for survival.

Minerva fought with equal intensity nearby, her transfiguration mastery turning the battlefield itself into a weapon. She transformed fallen trees into stone wolves that leapt at the Leshies, their granite teeth tearing into wooden flesh. When the creatures tried to overwhelm her position, she altered the ground beneath them into quicksand, trapping them for Charlus's flames.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Harry stepped out of the vehicle for a better view. Elizabeth's team had formed a defensive line, their modified Russian weapons spraying fire in controlled bursts. James and Marcus worked in tandem, their flamethrowers creating walls of fire that trapped the Leshies for others to pick off.

The battle seemed to be turning in their favour. The remaining Leshies were being systematically destroyed, their wooden bodies reduced to ash. Even Baba Yaga's continued assault on the barrier had failed to breach it.

Then everything changed in an instant.

One of the deity's curses finally pierced the ward, a bolt of sizzling red. The barrier sealed immediately behind it, but the spell was already through, hurtling towards the ground where Minerva stood locked in combat with two Leshies.

His grandmother hadn't noticed the incoming spell, too focused on her immediate opponents. Harry's warning shout was lost in the chaos of battle.

The curse streaked downward, carrying death in its wake.

So, what do you think? I didn’t get as far as I wanted to in this chapter, but the next will conclude the island mini-arc.     

Thanks for reading.