Building Rapport

At dusk, the shops lining Hogsmeade's main street were preparing to close.

After sunset each day, Dementors patrolled the streets. To avoid dealing with those Dark Creatures, closing early was the best choice.

Albert strolled alone down the deserted street. Just as he was about to head to the Three Broomsticks, a sharp crack of Apparition sounded ahead. Morg MacDougal appeared out of thin air without warning. He took a pocket watch from his robe, checked the time, then looked up at Albert walking toward him.

"Right on time."

Morg smiled and held out his hand to Albert. The latter took it, and the two vanished into thin air as though they had never been there.

When Albert opened his eyes again, he found himself in a remote wilderness. The wind blowing toward him carried a faint salty tang of the sea.

Morg led the way, introducing the place to Albert as they walked.

They were on a secluded stretch of coast somewhere in southern Wales. There was a manor here, and this year's Easter gathering would be held there.

As soon as they reached the edge of a cliff, Albert clearly sensed something ahead. The traces left behind by magic were obvious.

"We're here."

Morg raised his wand and murmured an incantation. The air ahead twisted, and an iron gate that looked as though it had been fashioned from mist appeared out of nowhere.

Once they entered, the entrance vanished.

"We have quite a few manors like this. Many of them were estates left behind by other inheritors," Morg explained to Albert. "The manor assigned to you is one of them too. These houses were originally meant for us to live in, but not everyone wanted to stay in places like these. After all, inheritors aren't short of money.