Chapter 204: Battle Inside the Factory
Through a narrow crack, Russell and Wednesday watched as the blonde witch unfurled a scroll. Glowing points of light drifted across the parchment, forming a line of text:
"Tonight, at 11:11, all existing fireworks will detonate completely."
Her fingertip tapped the location of the London Eye.
"With this potion, every Muggle body becomes a living timer. The moment their heart stops, Fiendfyre spores will be released."
"Of course," the old woman chuckled, "if the Ministry agrees to release our leader, none of this will be necessary. For all their incompetence, they are still our kind—wizards."
"And if those fools refuse?" the scar-faced wizard asked, tossing a chunk of obsidian into the cauldron. A green bubble swelled to the surface.
The old woman's laughter scraped like nails across slate.
"Then we'll remind them—our Order may be old, but we are far from extinct."
"What if Albus Dumbledore shows up?"
A cloaked wizard, silent until now, finally spoke.
At the name, unease flickered across every face.
"Dumbledore… the traitor," the old woman hissed.
"But it doesn't matter. He's too soft. With this many Muggle lives at stake, he won't dare act rashly."
She lifted her gaze toward the chimney.
"And besides… we have this. An inspiration drawn from the Time-Turner—Fiendfyre that can burn endlessly, immune to counterspells."
Russell's eyes narrowed. The copper pipe was etched with counterclockwise runes, the Fiendfyre at its mouth forming a frozen blue rose. These lunatics were stretching the moment of explosion into eternity—turning suffering into leverage.
A dull clang echoed as the cauldron lid slammed shut. The blonde witch's voice suddenly came closer.
"I've heard someone's been investigating recent disappearances," she said lightly. "A wizard from a pure-blood family, no less."
Her lips curled in disdain.
"I don't know what they're thinking—standing against us. Everything we do is for the benefit of wizardkind."
"Pure-blood traitor or Mudblood—it makes no difference," the old woman snapped, her wand sparking.
"Anyone who stands in the way of our cause…"
"…is nothing more than a sacrifice."
The printing press suddenly lurched into motion. The jammed lead letter "A" shot free and embedded itself into the wall just above Russell's head.
"Well now," the old woman said with a cold smile, turning toward them, "it seems a few little intruders have wandered in. Sharp, aren't they?"
Her voice carried no emotion at all.
"Force the potion down that Muggle's throat. As for these strays—Pam, they're yours."
"If possible, bring them back alive," she added. "Such boldness deserves a chance to join us."
"Leave it to me."
The scar-faced wizard—Pam—grinned viciously and charged.
At some point, Russell's Disillusionment Charm had been broken. The old woman must have cast a Revealing Spell.
"Incendio!"
Flames roared from above Pam's wand, surging forward in a blazing torrent toward the two of them.
Wednesday reacted instantly. She flicked her leather bracelet into the air, tapped it with her wand, and transfigured it into a silver-threaded net. The fire crashed against it, sparks scorching black marks into the metallic weave.
"Reducto!"
Russell snapped his wand forward, sending a bolt of red light tearing toward Pam.
But Pam wasn't alone.
Behind him, the blonde witch raised her wand and cast a Shield Charm just in time. An invisible barrier flared into existence, deflecting the blasting curse inches from his chest.
Russell's expression darkened. He'd expected this—that was why he hadn't used Sectumsempra immediately. If they saw through it too soon, things would get worse.
Fine.
His gaze flicked to the wall beside them. His wand slashed downward.
"Reducto!"
The concrete wall exploded into fragments, chunks of stone scattering in all directions.
"Confringo!"
A violent gale swept through the factory, tearing loose chunks of stone and hurling them like shrapnel toward the attackers.
When the storm subsided, the wizards lay sprawled on the ground, coughing and covered in dust. But when they looked up, both Russell and Wednesday had vanished once more.
"Don't rush," the old woman said calmly. With a flick of her wand, she traced the symbol of the Deathly Hallows in the air. Behind her, a row of Muggles suddenly appeared—bound to wooden stakes, eyes closed, trapped in an unnatural sleep.
She ordered another wizard to ladle potion from the cauldron and force it down their throats.
Meanwhile, Pam and the blonde witch were already pursuing Russell and Wednesday.
The suspended Muggles began to convulse in eerie unison—and at the same time, the other wizards pinpointed Russell's location.
A guttural incantation rang out. A splash of viscous green liquid arced through the air toward them.
Russell grabbed Wednesday and rolled behind a metal rack just in time. The spot where they had been standing was instantly eaten away, the floor hissing as it dissolved into a smoking crater.
"Move," Russell muttered under his breath.
"Not a chance."
The blonde witch snapped her wand forward, firing a Body-Bind Curse—but Russell's Shield Charm deflected it, sending the spell crashing into a steel drum nearby with a thunderous clang.
Pam had already slipped behind Russell, his face twisted with malice.
"Reducto!"
At the critical moment, Wednesday's Shield Charm flared, deflecting the blasting curse. The residual force tore through a stack of bundled newspapers, sending copies of the 1978 Financial Times cascading like an avalanche, dust billowing into the air.
"Left!"
Russell rolled behind a rack of lead type blocks and slashed his wand through the air.
Thousands of metal letters burst forward like buckshot, raining down on the blonde witch and Pam.
The blonde witch raised a Shield Charm—but there were simply too many projectiles. The metal type embedded itself into the barrier, spiderweb cracks spreading rapidly across its surface.
Seizing the opening, Wednesday fired a Stunning Spell. The red bolt pierced through a fracture in the shield—
—but at the last instant, the witch dissolved into black mist, reappearing three meters away behind an ink barrel.
Not Apparition. Not even Albus Dumbledore could execute such precise displacement mid-combat.
Pam.
He had intervened—somehow swapping her position with that mass of shadow.
His expression twisted further as his wand erupted with a serpent-like stream of green fire, coiling toward Wednesday.
Wednesday reacted instantly. She seized a hanging conveyor belt and vaulted into the air. Her boots shattered a glass light fixture, sending shards plunging into the green flames—where they melted into a rain of emerald fire that poured down onto Pam.
At that exact moment, Russell struck.
He transfigured a rusted forklift nearby—its metal arm twisting into a massive steel serpent that lunged toward Pam, coiling to ensnare him—
—but a razor-sharp Severing Charm sliced it clean in half.
The serpent writhed briefly on the ground… before reverting back into cold, lifeless metal.