Victor and the ten wizards sent by Perenelle hovered motionless on brooms high in the night sky. He peered intently at the hilly terrain stretching below, looking for something.
He hadn't even noticed the exact moment his hallucination completely vanished, and honestly, he didn't care at all. Right now, all that mattered was the business at hand.
Camille, gripping her broom tightly, frowned, her eyes fixed on the back of the boy hovering ahead.
She was an orphan who had grown up in one of the orphanages fully sponsored by the Flamels. When her exceptional magical talent was discovered during her first year of schooling, her life changed drastically. Upon returning to the orphanage for summer break, Antoine was already waiting for her. Without unnecessary words, he offered the girl a chance to join him and faithfully serve Madame Flamel. From then on, every summer was spent at a special closed training camp, where she and other gifted orphans were trained to their absolute limits.
Camille understood perfectly well that the instructors were relentlessly brainwashing them, virtually deifying Perenelle. But she didn't care about the propaganda herself; she simply strove with all her might to be the best. Camille wasn't stupid and realized that it was only thanks to the Flamels that she always had clean clothes, plentiful delicious food, and caring guardians who replaced her parents as a child.
However, when she finally graduated and joined Antoine's squad, a cruel blow awaited her: Madame Flamel suddenly retired. Camille was devastated. So many years of hellish work, all for nothing? Unwilling to bury her combat skills, she joined the Aurors and worked successfully in the French Ministry of Magic for a whole year. Everything changed last autumn when a hidden beacon tattoo on her forearm suddenly began to pulse—a mark every single one of them bore.
Dropping everything and arriving instantly at the secret rally point, Camille froze in reverent shock. Standing before her was Perenelle Flamel herself—young once more, incredibly powerful, and warlike. Their order had been summoned again.
And now, finally, her first assignment. Only instead of something serious, Camille had to hover on a broom in the middle of a forest, watching some kid, Perenelle's adopted grandson. They had been floating motionless for ten minutes already, staring at an unremarkable hill. Looking around, Camille noticed that the other wizards in her squad—people much older and more experienced than her—were grimacing darkly, staring intently at the ground below.
— Uncle Theodore, what's going on? — Camille asked quietly, unable to hold back.
The wizard hovering on the broom beside her glanced at her and sighed tiredly:
— It seems a fierce battle awaits us.
Victor suddenly burst out laughing merrily:
— You have no idea how much, Uncle!
Camille shot Victor an astonished look. There was a considerable distance between them, and a strong, howling wind was blowing at this altitude. How on earth did he manage to overhear their whisper?
— Quiet, everyone! — Antoine cut them off sternly, then turned a heavy glare onto Victor. — How many are down there, and what exactly is our objective?
Victor paused for a moment, closing his eyes.
— I can't say precisely, around a hundred or so, but don't worry, they aren't that strong.
All the wizards, with the exception of young Camille, were seasoned combat veterans. They immediately recognized from numerous signs that this nondescript hill was actually serving as someone's well-fortified underground base.
— And what about you guys? — Victor chuckled. — I think you should just stand aside and wait. And maybe help me out a little bit.
— Help with what, specifically? — Antoine frowned.
Victor smiled with anticipation:
— I see four disguised exits. I'll take the largest one myself. You guys need to split into three groups, block the remaining three points, and warmly greet anyone who tries to crawl out through them.
Due to a critical lack of information, Antoine still didn't understand the exact nature of their mission or how a single teenager planned to storm a base filled with a hundred wizards. Noticing his obvious confusion, Victor sighed and, turning his broom around, hovered directly in front of the formation of wizards.
— Listen up, — Victor spoke, sweeping a sharp gaze over the wizards, — especially you, the constantly frowning girl. Down in the depths of that hill hides a fairly well-known English gang. As it turns out, their leader—who has now safely departed this mortal realm—wanted very much to kill me. Long story short, I want to wipe them out so that, you know, nobody comes looking for revenge and all that. I'll explain your main task a bit later, but for now, just take up positions at the other three exits and deal with anyone who decides to poke their head out.
— What exactly do you mean by "deal with"? — one of the wizards spoke up, staring intently at him.
Victor tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at him like an idiot asking stupid questions:
— Kill them, of course.
Camille froze for a second at such nonchalance, her eyebrows shooting up, while the older wizards merely exchanged glances. Death was nothing new to these people.
Antoine, maintaining absolute composure, shook his head disapprovingly:
— We won't have a problem with that. But I'm afraid I still can't allow you to go in there alone. If you get even slightly hurt, I'll have a devil of a time explaining myself to Madame Flamel.
Victor smirked:
— Don't worry, I won't be going in alone. So, does everyone understand the initial task? How you divide yourselves up is your own business.
He glanced at the hill once more and sighed. He sincerely hoped that the people Perenelle sent were truly good. Because as for the hundred... he had, mildly speaking, lied heavily: judging by the memories extracted from Fenrir Greyback, several hundred werewolves were hiding under that hill.
Under the dumbfounded stares of the mercenaries, Victor calmly stood up to his full height, balancing on the hovering broom. A katana appeared in his hands. Twirling the hilt, he took aim and sent the blade flying vertically downward in a precise throw, straight into the center of the hill. As soon as the blade sank into the earth up to its hilt, a translucent wall began rapidly expanding outward in all directions. The very same blocking barrier he had used in his fight with Fenrir, only many times larger—it now covered the entire hill like a dome.
Nodding in satisfaction, Victor spread his arms wide to the sides and simply stepped off the broom, plummeting downward.
Antoine's eyes widened in horror.
— Have you lost your mind?! — he roared and, without the slightest hesitation, plunged his broom into a steep dive after him.
This was no joke: they were hovering nearly two hundred meters off the ground, and falling from such a height guaranteed instant death. He raced down at the absolute limit of his broom, but around fifty meters above the ground, Victor's fall suddenly began to smoothly decelerate. Antoine frowned, staring intently: Victor hadn't used a wand or uttered a single spell.
The next moment, however, shocked the squad commander to his core.
The bracelet hidden beneath the sleeve of Victor's wrist flashed blindingly. Right on the ground, snapping trees apart, a colossal snake body materialized out of thin air. Victor landed completely soundlessly on the monster's flat, scaly head. He lazily turned his head toward Antoine and the other wizards, who had already managed to fly closer and were now hovering in midair, terrified. The enormous basilisk kept its eyes tightly shut, obediently remaining still under its master.
— So what are we doing standing around here? — Victor sighed. — I clearly said: split up among the exits. I'm taking this one, the main one. You guys take the other three. Don't let anyone out; feel free to cave the tunnels in to hell when they come pouring out en masse. Come on, schneller, schneller!
The basilisk turned smoothly toward the main entrance beneath the hill and, finally cracking open its deadly yellow eyes, surged forward, crushing everything in its path.
— Ah, see, little snake, the kind of people I have to work with? — Victor muttered softly, stroking the scales on the monster's head. — And they looked like such grim, capable wizards on the outside. Grandmother definitely needs to review the personnel she hires.
Antoine's team, wide-eyed and forgetting to breathe, watched the receding monster.
Camille finally couldn't hold back and asked hoarsely:
— Captain... what on earth is that thing? What kind of snake is that?
The experienced wizard hovering on a broom beside her answered in place of their commander, his voice dropping:
— That's a basilisk, girl. And judging by its incredible length and the thickness of its scales, it's hundreds of years old.
Camille trembled visibly. She remembered perfectly well from her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks what this monster was capable of. The realization of how close she had just been to instant and inevitable death from a single glance of the snake made her run cold with terror.
— Antoine, that boy is lying to us! — Theodore whispered. — There's clearly a whole army down there.
— I know, — Antoine replied gloomily, his eyes fixed on the huge green tail disappearing into the thick forest. — But Lady Flamel explicitly ordered us to carry out his every instruction. Do as he said, — Antoine commanded, turning his broom around. — I don't know how many of them are holed up in there or who they are, but I think when that monster goes in, we certainly won't need to worry about his safety. If anything, we should feel sorry for whoever is inside.
Victor, who had almost reached the main entrance to the underground hideout, heard the mercenary's words clearly and chuckled quietly:
— You hear that, little snake? Uncle Antoine thinks that as long as I'm beside you, you'll be alright. He cares about you! But geez, calling me a monster is a bit much.
The basilisk didn't even think to react to its master's joke. It was in eager anticipation of a glorious feast. Only one supreme thought beat inside its ancient head: Soon I will eat.
The snake licked its lips hungrily with its forked tongue and only accelerated further, charging into the cave.