Silencio…
With a gentle flick of his wand, Melvin cast a spell that enveloped the room in an invisible silken veil. The noises from outside—snoring, footsteps, all of it—vanished, leaving only the faint rustle of the night breeze flipping through papers.
The night seemed to hush all at once.
"…"
Business matters and old wizard gossip could wait. Right now, Melvin was far more curious about what surprises the black dragon's gift might bring.
Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes, letting his consciousness sink inward to focus on the changes in his magical energy.
Its strength and nature felt much the same, growing at the usual steady pace—slightly stronger than the average Hogwarts professor but nowhere near the legendary power of someone like Dumbledore.
It flowed through his body like a gentle stream, seeping into the depths of his soul.
As it passed through his core, it carried a warm, comforting heat, like the glowing embers of a recently extinguished fireplace. When it touched his soul, it felt like the cool, refreshing trickle of a clear brook.
While Melvin focused inward, the tip of his wand, still in his hand, glowed faintly silver, resonating with the moonlight streaming through the window. Outside, soft rustling sounds came from the courtyard.
Having experienced the gifts of the Horned Serpent and the blessing of a unicorn before, Melvin had some experience with this sort of thing. This time, with the black dragon's gratitude, he wasn't in a rush to analyze the changes in his magic. He was patient, calm.
Dragons, in his mind, were defined by two vivid traits: their blazing fire and their impenetrable scales. He hypothesized that the black dragon's gift might enhance his magic in ways tied to fire or defense. But, recalling the unicorn's blessing, he also considered it might manifest in something entirely unexpected.
"Let's test it the straightforward way first…"
With a slight shift of intent, Melvin channeled his magic into his wand.
A cluster of bright flames burst into existence.
Bluebell flames, perfect for warmth, floated lightly in the air—warm but not scalding. The only problem? They were dazzlingly bright, almost blinding.
"…"
The moment the flames appeared, Melvin knew he'd hit the mark.
The temperature held steady, but the brightness was noticeably different. The black dragon's magic was indeed tied to fire, though its exact effects needed further exploration. He maintained a steady flow of magic, studying the blue flames intently, losing himself in their glow.
The night deepened, the stars and moon drifting slowly westward. A misty breeze from the Danube lowered the temperature in the hotel courtyard.
The Thestrals in the yard, dozing on their feet and slightly tipsy, instinctively shuffled closer to the professor's window. They were drawn to the faint, comforting warmth radiating from it, the soft firelight soothing their senses.
That flicker of flame by the window burned steadily.
If a secret wizarding gathering were happening in the courtyard, someone looking up might notice the unusual gathering of creatures below: sleepless birds of midsummer, bowtruckles perched in the ornamental trees, and even garden gnomes rustling through the grass.
In the dead of night, Melvin snapped out of his trance.
With a flick of his hand, he extinguished the bright flames. The blue light faded, and the night seemed to dim, yet despite hours of focus, he felt no fatigue—his energy was, if anything, sharper than before.
He had a rough sense of the black dragon's magic now.
"Phew…"
Melvin took a deep breath of the cool, dewy air, tidied his letters and wand, and drew the curtains, ready to settle in and coax himself to sleep. Though his mind and body felt refreshed, skipping sleep entirely seemed… incomplete.
As he tucked a letter into his pocket, a faint rustle caught his attention.
Pulling it out, he saw it was the wizarding contact book. The portrait on the third page was tapping the paper insistently—Christine had sent a message.
"The Law Enforcement Department is taking the theft case very seriously. The deputy director used Veritaserum during interrogations. Three suspects died on the spot, while the others confessed one after another…"
That was unexpected. According to the International Confederation of Wizards' guidelines, standard interrogations typically avoided Veritaserum, Cruciatus, or Imperius curses. An overdose could turn suspects into idiots or kill them outright.
The Romanian Ministry must be furious.
"The group of dark wizards who stole the dragon eggs was a temporary crew, all young witches and wizards who graduated within the last two years. They came from magical schools worldwide—not just the big three in Europe, but Ilvermorny and Wagadou as well. Their common traits? They're skilled at Quidditch and come from poor families…"
Quidditch skills meant excellent flying, the fastest escape method when Apparition was restricted.
Poverty suggested they were hired with Galleons, making it hard to trace the mastermind.
"The group's temporary leader was from Ilvermorny, possibly linked to the mastermind. They bore an Unbreakable Vow on their arm, and after revealing a sliver of information, they died…"
Melvin's eyes scanned the two clues below the portrait: New Salem Philanthropic Society and The Scourers.
The next morning.
Heavy clouds blocked the sun, leaving the weather neither good nor bad.
Melvin sat by the window in the hotel restaurant, eating breakfast while watching a Thestral in the courtyard playfully kick a gnome with its hoof.
He was eating a familiar chimney cake—batter mixed with butter and sugar, baked golden and crisp with a soft, chewy filling. After days of eating it, he was starting to tire of it.
Christine sat across from him, eating quickly yet with an effortless grace, clearly trained from childhood in the refined manner of Parisian wizarding families.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Christine looked up, meeting Melvin's gaze briefly before glancing away. "Did you see the interrogation report I sent last night?"
"I did," Melvin nodded, then paused as a realization hit. "Wait, you Apparated back in the middle of the night?"
Romanian Aurors didn't live in Budapest. When he'd left the gathering to return to the hotel, Christine had still been working late. Yet here she was, having breakfast with him. Judging by the timing of her message, the ripple of magical energy from Apparition could only have been her.
"Mm…" Christine nodded lightly. "The interrogation wrapped up late, and I thought you might have questions about the report. So I stayed here overnight to answer anything in person."
Her tone was as calm as if she were talking about wiping her mouth with a napkin.
Recalling how composed she'd been when they confronted the dark wizards yesterday, Melvin's expression grew serious, his curiosity piqued. "You're going above and beyond with this service. Why? Don't you think my dealings with the Pure-Blood Saints are just business?"
Christine's eyelashes dipped as she paused. "Whatever it is, I do what I'm supposed to do."
At Beauxbatons, she'd been a top student. At the Romanian Ministry, she was a diligent Auror. At the Pure-Blood Saints' underground meeting, she'd exposed a traitor. Now, working for Melvin, she did so with the same dedication. It was her habit—or rather, her principle.
Nothing more.
Melvin nodded thoughtfully, a glint in his eyes. "A friend of mine is coming in a couple of days to work with the Romanians on upgrading the Floo Network, selling Invisibility Mirrors, and expanding the Mirror Club's channels. Keep an eye on how they operate, and have your Aunt Vinda and Abernathy follow up in Hungary."
"Got it," Christine replied.