Without stopping to rest, Jon left the inn alone the moment he learned the giants' location from the house-elf Klein.
He knew there was no time to waste.
Voldemort was notoriously elusive. Although Jon knew the Dark Lord had recently appeared in Siberia, far from here, no one could say when he might return.
He left the house-elf Klein behind at the inn, instructing it to "take care of" Astoria, who was also staying there…
House-elves were generally trustworthy, especially those serving in the Hogwarts kitchens. As for Astoria, given her current condition, Jon truly didn't feel safe leaving her alone in the inn.
As he boarded the night bus, Jon calmly reviewed his plan.
Giants, by nature, despised wizards and loathed magic…
Even if Voldemort had reached some sort of agreement with them, that instinct would never change.
Because of that, there were essentially no Death Eaters within the giant settlement on the Isle of Man. Otherwise, conflict between them would have been inevitable.
Even so, Voldemort would never leave the lair unguarded surveillance or protective magic around the perimeter of the lair.
Breaking in alone would be extremely dangerous—and far too likely to alert them.
Still, no matter how powerful Voldemort or the Death Eaters might be, their magic was bound to have weaknesses…
Jon spent the journey mentally rehearsing every step. By the time he realized it, he had already arrived at his destination.
...
It was nearly midnight.
The night sky glittered with stars. The Isle of Man was exceptionally well preserved, and the night scenery was beautiful—but Jon had no attention to spare for it.
According to the location Klein had given him, the lair was near a large, picturesque lake. Under the moonlight, the water shimmered; when a cool breeze passed over it, ripples spread across the surface.
Beside the path stood a crooked wooden sign that read:
"No Fishing!"
Jon strolled forward like a Muggle out for an evening walk, casually observing his surroundings.
There were indeed traces of magic everywhere—concealment spells similar to those used in London, Diagon Alley, or the Ministry of Magic. It seemed the Dark Lord's expertise wasn't limited to dark magic alone.
"Mr. Jon!"
A sharp voice suddenly called out from beneath a bush less than ten yards from the lake.
A small house-elf was hiding there.
Jon immediately lowered his head and walked over. He hadn't cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself precisely so the other party could notice him.
"Hello. Were you the one who discovered the giants' lair?"
Jon asked as he crouched beside the house-elf in the bushes.
"Yes!" the house-elf said proudly. "I found this place… then I contacted Klein and asked him to inform you. It's an honor to be of service to Mr. Jon!"
"Good. Thank you very much," Jon said with a smile. Then he got straight to the point. "Can you take me inside… past the outer defenses and into the lair itself?"
On his own, Jon knew he had no chance of breaking through Voldemort's concealment and protective spells. Even the slightest misstep would trigger an alarm.
But for all his power, Voldemort harbored a deep prejudice against non-wizard beings and rarely guarded against them. It would never occur to him that creatures like house-elves might possess magic beyond his own understanding.
House-elf Apparition differed from that of wizards and was not subject to many of the same restrictions. For example, even Albus Dumbledore could not Apparate within Hogwarts—yet a house-elf could do so with ease.
"Of course," the house-elf nodded. "Please, take my hand."
...
Jon grasped the house-elf's hand, and the world immediately began to spin.
Suppressing the urge to vomit, he opened his eyes again a few seconds later—
and what he saw made him frown.
The beautiful "lake" from before didn't exist at all. It was nothing more than an illusion created by Voldemort.
In reality, there was only a shallow stream, its surface littered with blood-soaked refuse that was deeply unpleasant to look at.
Beyond the stream stood a low mountain.
At its base were more than a dozen caves, each one enormous, at least twenty yards tall.
"Mr. Jon, this is the place," the house-elf whispered, about to say more—
when Jon's expression abruptly changed.
He clapped a hand over the house-elf's mouth and softly murmured an incantation:
"Disillusionment!"
The instant the two of them vanished, the ground began to shake violently, as if struck by an earthquake.
Heavy footsteps followed as a massive giant strode toward them.
The giant carried a thick wooden club and kept sniffing the air, as though it had caught a scent.
Giants might have poor eyesight and limited intelligence, but their sense of smell was extraordinarily sharp. Even without seeing Jon, it followed the scent, slowly closing in on his position.
Jon signaled the house-elf to remain absolutely silent, then carefully drew a crystal vial from his pocket.
"Waddiwasi!"
With a flick of his wrist, Jon sent the vial flying toward the giant's head.
The giant let out a low roar and swung its club, smashing the vial to pieces. The potion inside splashed everywhere, with one or two drops even landing on the giant's face.
The giant grew visibly enraged and began searching for the "culprit."
Soon, another giant emerged from the nearest cave, apparently awakened by the noise.
It spoke in a strange language, seemingly questioning the first giant about what had happened.
In response, the giant that had been hit let out a furious bellow.
The argument escalated without warning or reason.
As the shouting escalated, the giant that had nearly discovered Jon suddenly struck first.
Punches and kicks flew as the two giants launched into a brutal brawl on the spot.
...
Taking advantage of the chaos, Jon and the house-elf slipped away from the giants' lair.
They Apparated back to the same patch of bushes they had been hiding in earlier.
The crystal vial Jon had thrown contained a potent Confusing Concoction. Even inhaling a small amount was enough to make the target violent, irritable, and reckless.
Against creatures like giants—low in intelligence, naturally aggressive, and prone to killing one another—this potion was exceptionally effective.
Using it was also the least likely way to arouse the giants' suspicion. After all, fighting among themselves was perfectly normal for them.
"Mr. Jon Hart!"
The house-elf looked utterly shaken.
Jon had no time to comfort it. He quickly pulled the portrait of Headmaster Phineas Black from his suitcase.
With the lair confirmed, there was no longer any doubt, so—
"Phineas!"
Jon called urgently.
The Phineas Black in the portrait seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation. This time, he didn't put on any airs and stepped out at once.
"What is it, Jon?" he asked quietly. "An emergency? Should I contact Dumbledore?"
"No… not Dumbledore," Jon said, shaking his head with a grim expression. "Go find Headmaster Everard. Have him go to the Ministry of Magic and wake every Auror on duty."
"When Everard meets Rufus Scrimgeour, tell him that the culprits behind the 'hurricane' on the west coast—the giants—have been found. They're on the Isle of Man, at…"
Jon relayed everything in one breath before finally pausing.
"There are a lot of giants… at least a dozen. Tell them to mobilize every available Auror."
"That does sound complicated," Headmaster Phineas Black muttered. "But no problem. Leave it to me."