Thud…
Thud…
Thud…
A series of dull thumps echoed through the underground meeting hall by the Danube's banks at the foot of Gellért Hill. It was as if a specter prowled the shadows. Each time a faint silvery glow flickered in the darkness, landing on one of the gathered witches or wizards, a heavy breath would slow and steady, signaling unconsciousness.
What seemed like a tense, drawn-out battle was, in truth, a one-sided assault. The darkness and silence were the young professor's domain.
The remaining members of the group, too afraid to make a sound or light their wands, were prey in this hunt. Despite their vigilance iwary vigilance, their comrades fell one by one, collapsing into unconscious heaps, some even tumbling down the steps in their slumber.
When the final thud faded, the underground hall fell silent.
Abernathy and Vinda held their breath, not daring to make a sound, though they could hear each other's pounding heartbeats. By their count of the thumps, nearly all their allies in the meeting had been taken out. Only they and the witch who had revealed the professor's identity remained.
On a nearby step, Christine Rosier was equally uneasy. Unlike the two seasoned wizards, her heavy breathing was loud in the enclosed silence, betraying her nerves.
"Now, can we have a proper chat?"
Several soft blue flames, like silken embers, rose into the air, illuminating the sealed chamber. A gentle warmth brushed their faces, and though the light was soothing, the sight of their unconscious comrades scattered across the steps made their pupils contract.
The slow rise and fall of their chests confirmed they weren't dead, just sleeping deeply. The three surviving Pure-Blood Saints let out a cautious sigh of relief.
In just three minutes, that young figure had transformed into something else entirely, something that weighed on their hearts and made their breaths feel heavy, as if the air in the underground passage was stifling.
Abernathy felt a wave of relief. Thank Merlin not all Hogwarts professors were dark wizards.
Gripping their wands tightly, the two older wizards felt warmth and oxygen return to their bodies, their breathing easing slightly. Their eyes settled on the figure across the platform.
The strikingly youthful professor offered a smile, softening the tense atmosphere.
Melvin stood quietly, giving them time to collect their thoughts while subtly observing the trio. The two older wizards seemed composed, but the Ministry's female Auror, Christine, looked pale, though she still clutched her wand firmly—a sign of strong mental fortitude.
In the earlier darkness, she had tried to pinpoint his location by tracking the origin of his spell's light.
Vinda's face was grim. The once-feared Pure-Blood Saints were now a ragtag group of the old and weak, taken down by a single man. It stung her pride.
"Professor Lewent, please forgive our intrusion," Abernathy, the hotel owner, said with a sigh, his smile bitter and resigned.
He could tell the professor wasn't holding a grudge. The first Stunning Spell had been overpowering, but Melvin had deliberately dialed back his magic afterward. Otherwise, he could've knocked them all out and wiped their memories with an Obliviate, leaving no trace of trouble.
Sensing the professor's goodwill, Abernathy gathered himself and introduced his companions. "This is my old friend, Vinda Rosier, once a core member of the Pure-Blood Saints. If you've seen our wanted posters, her name might ring a bell."
"And that young woman is her niece, Christine, a distant Rosier descendant," he added, pausing briefly. "She graduated from Beauxbatons and joined the Romanian Ministry as an Auror through proper channels before Vinda recruited her into the Saints."
The young witch pressed her lips together, saying nothing.
Melvin considered this for a moment. "So, this dragon egg theft really has nothing to do with you?"
Abernathy shook his head. "It was another group of foreign wizards. They arrived in Budapest during the summer holidays, a day or two before you. They were staying up on Castle Hill. At first, we thought they were just tourists, but after the lockdown, they vanished."
Melvin began to piece things together. The female Auror must have attended the meeting to use the Saints' network for her investigation. He glanced at her. "Then why did you expose me?"
One might've thought she was playing the villain.
Christine's deep green eyes flickered, her face expressionless, but her tense shoulders betrayed her unease.
Abernathy hesitated, then said cautiously, "Professor, if you're investigating the case, we can offer our help."
Melvin shook his head. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. It's cleared up now, so let's leave it at that. No need for anything more."
Sneaking into their meeting had been his mistake, and the conflict had been resolved peacefully enough. No need to escalate things further. Though he felt for the dragons, he had no interest in getting tangled up in Romania's mess. He pocketed his wand, ready to leave.
"You haven't promised to keep this secret!"
A sharp, reedy voice cut through the air. All three turned to Vinda, the female Auror looking stunned, Abernathy exasperated.
Melvin couldn't help but laugh. Looking at the elderly woman, he suddenly changed his mind.
"Do you really think you can break Grindelwald out of Nurmengard?" he asked calmly.
Vinda's grip tightened on her wand, a flash of fear in her eyes, though her tone remained defiant. "Those foolish Austrian Aurors—how could they stop me?"
"I don't know if the Aurors could stop you," Melvin said evenly. "What I'm curious about is whether you truly believe Nurmengard and the Austrian Ministry can hold a master duelist skilled in dark magic."
"It's because he doesn't have a wand!" Vinda shot back.
"Grindelwald is adept at wandless and silent casting," Melvin countered.
"He… he…" Vinda faltered.
"What, under Dumbledore's Imperius Curse?" Melvin pressed.
It was the excuse Vinda had once used to convince Abernathy, but now, faced with it herself, she couldn't bring herself to agree.
"See, deep down, you know," Melvin continued. "No one can truly trap Grindelwald. The International Confederation of Wizards held him under far stricter conditions, yet he escaped in no time. A legendary dark wizard like him, stuck in his own Nurmengard for half a century?"
"No… no…" Vinda murmured, her eyes brimming with pain and sorrow, trying to block out the cruel truth.
"The truth is, Grindelwald is there by choice," Melvin said, undeterred. "He's atoning for his past mistakes. Even if you break through the Aurors' defenses, even if you fight your way into Nurmengard and hand him a wand, Grindelwald won't leave. He'll stay in that cell until the end."