"I've already looked into it. The Austrian Ministry of Magic is sending forty-seven staff members to assist with the investigation…"
The elderly witch shared the intelligence she'd gathered, her voice steady but low. Melvin glanced around the room, noticing the reactions of the other wizards. To his surprise, they seemed oddly detached, their eyes darting to one another as if gauging each other's interest—or lack thereof.
Melvin's mind wandered to Professor Kettleburn's words: many of the younger wizards in the Pure-Blood Alliance had been swayed by Gellert Grindelwald's magnetic charisma, drawn in like moths to a flame.
Decades had passed since then. The once-charismatic leader of the Pure-Blood Alliance was now just a prisoner, a frail, century-old shadow of his former self, locked away in Nurmengard.
Those young followers from back then? They were now ordinary old wizards scattered across Budapest. Some ran hotels, others cooked in restaurants, or had long since retired to quiet, uneventful lives.
A few stirring words from Vinda weren't enough to make them throw away their comfortable lives and go back to being fugitives on the run.
Melvin's thoughts churned as his gaze swept the room again. Suddenly, his eyes locked with another wizard's. They were cloaked in a loose, hooded robe that hid their figure so well it was impossible to tell their gender at a glance.
But those eyes… they felt familiar.
Deep emerald, bright and lively.
Melvin casually looked away, his mind racing to place the face. He mentally flipped through the wizards he'd met in the area, and it clicked—the Auror witch.
She'd checked his wand in Romania that morning, then outbid him for a communication journal at the wizarding market that evening. And now, here she was again?
"This Pure-Blood Alliance meeting is crawling with spies…"
Melvin couldn't help but feel a strange mix of amusement and unease. Watching Vinda continue her impassioned speech, he thought to himself, The Romanian Aurors are way ahead of the British Ministry. They're already infiltrating Pure-Blood Alliance meetings. Talk about efficiency.
He stole another glance at the witch, wondering if she'd brought other Aurors with her. To his surprise, he caught her staring back at him.
Does she recognize me too?
The thought crossed his mind, and he gave her a subtle nod and a friendly smile, hoping to signal a quiet understanding.
But the Auror witch wasn't having it. She raised her wand, her voice firm and commanding. "He's not one of us! He's a Hogwarts professor!"
The room fell silent for a few agonizing seconds. The word "professor" echoed in the air, and a dozen pairs of eyes turned to Melvin. The wizards around him slowly spread out, forming a loose circle that felt suspiciously like a trap.
"?"
Melvin's eyes widened slightly as his mind raced, piecing together the clues. The truth hit him like a Bludger.
The Romanian Ministry had a mole.
And that mole was the Auror witch who'd been checking wands at the border!
The circle of wizards tightened, wands drawn. The remnants of the Pure-Blood Alliance might not care about rescuing their long-imprisoned leader, but they weren't above dealing with an intruder in their midst. Vinda's eyes gleamed with cold intent.
Just then, the hotel owner spoke up, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Hogwarts? Professor Levent?"
Melvin saw a glimmer of hope for a peaceful resolution. He gave a sheepish smile. "Blame those loud snores from my roommates. Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd take a walk in the courtyard… and, well, I ended up here. Sorry for crashing your party, sir."
The old wizard sighed, looking exasperated as he turned to the witch on the platform. "Vinda, he's my guest. He didn't sneak in to spy on us."
Vinda let out a derisive scoff. "He's heard our plans!"
"I can swear an oath to keep quiet," Melvin said quickly.
"Even an Obliviation Charm isn't foolproof. Only a corpse keeps secrets!" Vinda's voice dripped with venom, a glimpse of the cruelty that had once defined the Pure-Blood Alliance.
The hotel owner frowned, clearly unsettled by Vinda's ruthlessness. "Vinda—"
"Enough, Abernathy!" Vinda snapped, the tip of her wand glowing with an eerie green light. "You've been playing hotelier for decades, fooling even yourself. Do you really think you're some saint now?"
Abernathy stared at her, stunned into silence.
"Abernathy? Not Abbott?" Melvin muttered, suddenly understanding why the name "Mr. Abbott" had earned such odd looks earlier.
Vinda's cold, mocking gaze turned to him, a faint sneer curling her lips. "Of course it's Abernathy. Once a promising American Auror, then a traitor who helped the great Grindelwald escape justice, reduced to a rat skulking in the shadows!"
"And soon," she added, "his wanted poster will have a new charge: attacking a Hogwarts professor!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A sickly green light shot from her wand.
Melvin reacted in an instant, his wand flicking with practiced ease. That morning, he'd subdued a dragon with dozens of perfectly aimed Stunning Spells. His speed and precision were unmatched. His spell met Vinda's Killing Curse head-on, a brilliant blue light clashing with the green in a shower of sparks. Both spells fizzled out in midair.
The other wizards blinked, momentarily dazzled by the light. Before they could react, Melvin sighed, his tone tinged with regret. "Looks like we'll have to calm you lot down before we can talk this out."
With a flick of his wand, multiple spells shot out simultaneously.
The beams of light struck the surrounding lanterns, shattering their glass covers with a crisp crack. The oil lamps flared brightly for a split second, illuminating the room—then plunged it into thick, suffocating darkness as the flames died out.
Panic rippled through the crowd.
In that first exchange, the young professor had shown skill far beyond most of the Pure-Blood Alliance stragglers.
Vinda Rosier's Killing Curse, which had claimed dozens of lives in her youth and grown even deadlier with her increasingly unhinged mind, was said to be powerful enough to kill a Hebridean Black dragon in one hit.
And yet, a hastily cast Stunning Spell had stopped it cold.
If a spell like that hit them…
In the darkness, heavy breathing filled the air. Someone swallowed hard, the sound sharp in the tense silence. Unable to bear the pressure, one wizard began to cast: "Lumos—"
Before he could finish, a streak of light cut through the dark. A Stunning Spell whistled through the air, slamming into the wizard's chest with a dull thud.
The sound echoed in the confined space. The wizard, who'd hoped to light the room for his allies to take aim, hadn't even finished his incantation. He hadn't had time to defend himself. The force of the spell sent him flying, crashing into the wall like a ragdoll before slumping to the ground, unconscious.
Whether it was the Stunning Spell or the impact that knocked him out, no one could tell.
The room fell silent again, swallowed by darkness.