Chapter 205 — A Narrow Escape
A storm of fire poured down from above, cascading toward Pam like a blazing waterfall.
"Protego!"
He thrust his wand upward. A translucent barrier snapped into place over his head like an umbrella, meeting the falling fire head-on.
The instant the flames struck, they hissed violently, black smoke coiling upward.
Pam's pupils shrank.
His shield… was melting.
He had overestimated his control—and now he was paying for it.
With a curse, he rolled aside just in time. The fire rain splashed onto the ground and didn't burn—instead, it ate through the floor, carving out a gaping, smoking crater.
Pam swallowed hard. If even a drop had touched him, he'd be riddled with holes.
He didn't fully understand this spell yet. He'd only learned it recently—taught by that old woman specifically for this mission. He wasn't one of Gellert Grindelwald's original followers, merely someone who admired power and pledged himself later. Magic like this wasn't something he would normally be allowed to learn.
"Crucio!"
The blonde witch snapped, abandoning restraint. The Cruciatus Curse—one of the Unforgivable Curses—lashed forward.
"Impedimenta!"
Wednesday raised a barrier in front of them. The curse slowed sharply midair, its lethal momentum choked down just enough—
—and that was all Russell needed.
He shoved an entire barrel of hardened ink off the iron staircase. The massive drum crashed down, shattering the crate beneath the witch's feet.
Ink exploded everywhere.
From the shadows, Pam flickered into view—his wand flashing red.
A Disarming Charm shot straight for Russell.
"Protego!"
Russell stepped in, blocking it—but the impact slammed him backward into a rack of lead type.
Wednesday retaliated instantly. Chains burst from a rusted hoisting rig, whipping toward Pam—
—but flames surged, incinerating them an instant before they could bind him.
The blonde witch clawed her way out of the wreckage, sweeping her wand. A fan of black mist spread outward, corroding steel supports with a shrieking hiss.
Russell tapped his wand sharply. A typesetting tray ripped free and hurled toward her face—forcing her to dodge—
—and he followed with a Blasting Curse.
The spell grazed her shoulder, detonating against the wall behind her, shredding a safety notice into fragments.
At the same moment, Wednesday sprinted toward the printing press, which had begun to rumble back to life.
As the rollers thundered toward her, she dropped low—sliding beneath the machinery—and fired a precise blasting spell into the conveyor's axle.
The mechanism ruptured.
Broken gears screamed through the air like spinning blades—one slicing across Pam's calf. Blood sprayed, splattering across a faded 1938 obituary sheet.
"Reducto!"
The blonde witch retaliated, obliterating an entire row of type racks into powder.
Russell dove behind a stack of ink barrels as crimson blasts chased their heels, gouging smoking trenches into the concrete.
Then—
Wednesday flicked her wand.
A faint red glow ignited.
Moments earlier, she had quietly cast a Levitation Charm on a fire axe mounted on the wall.
Now it came alive.
With a low hum, the axe spun through the air and hacked toward the witch's back.
Pam's Shield Charm flared at the last second, deflecting the strike—
—but Russell moved faster.
He shattered Pam's defense in the same breath and slammed him sideways into a glass vat.
It exploded.
Thick black ink engulfed Pam, coating him head to toe.
For a split second, he stood there—completely drenched, stunned into stillness.
Then Wednesday's Binding Spell struck.
Chains lashed out, pinning him hard against the shattered tank.
The blonde witch screamed—a sharp, piercing sound.
Her wand erupted with black light.
The entire printing press—tons of iron and steel—ripped free from the ground, lifted into the air like a monstrous beast—
—and came crashing down toward them.
Even in that moment, Wednesday's eyes narrowed.
She caught it—a glimpse of scales along the woman's neck.
"…A hybrid," she murmured calmly. "Part human, part merfolk."
And somehow—
she still sounded curious.
Russell had once heard a strange rumor.
Decades ago, a witch had fallen in love with a merfolk. She wanted to abandon everything and spend her life beneath the water with him—but her family would never allow it.
In the end, she made her choice.
She transformed herself into a fish and vanished into the lake, never to be seen again.
Animagi were exceedingly rare. To give up her future for love… whether that was courage or folly, no one could say.
Russell, however, wasn't convinced it had even been love.
How could two entirely different species truly understand each other?
At least—that's what he believed.
…though he made a small exception for Veela in human form.
Now, looking at the blonde witch, a thought surfaced—
She might very well be that witch's descendant.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Russell's levitation spell caught the falling machinery mid-crash, while Wednesday blasted a support pillar at the same time.
The entire factory shuddered violently, tilting as bricks and debris rained down, forcing the blonde witch back toward a corner. Grabbing onto a hanging chain, Russell and Wednesday swung across the collapsing floor.
The moment their boots hit the iron exit door, a thunderous crash echoed behind them—the structure partially caving in.
For a split second, it seemed like it was over.
Then—
Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. Crack.
Five sharp explosions tore through the smoke.
Five figures Apparated in, ripping through the haze. They threw back their hoods, revealing foreheads branded with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
Reinforcements.
Russell and Wednesday had no choice but to retreat back into the factory.
The leader—a tall, elderly wizard—raised his wand casually.
A metal storage rack five meters away shattered instantly. Shards of steel screamed through the air, forcing Russell to dive aside—straight into an ink pool. His robes were instantly soaked in thick, black sludge.
"Right side!"
Wednesday's blasting curse shattered a beam, collapsing concrete to block two of the newcomers—
—but the third was already casting.
A crimson chain lashed out.
It coiled around her ankle like a venomous serpent.
Russell fired a blasting spell to break it—
—but a fourth wizard deflected it effortlessly.
With a twist of his wand, a violent wind roared to life, dragging the entire ink pool upward. The liquid twisted into a hovering mass of razor-sharp spikes, suspended in the air.
In that instant—
life and death balanced on a knife's edge.
Russell inhaled sharply, raising his wand.
Every ounce of magic in his body surged forward.
"Wingardium… Leviosa!"
At the first syllable, the ink around him began to boil.
By the time the full incantation rang out—
the factory erupted.
A storm of metal exploded into motion.
Three hundred kilograms of scrap printing parts, shattered gears, broken axles—even rusted screws—all tore free from the ground, transformed into whirling blades under the force of his magic.
A hurricane of steel.
This was no longer a simple levitation charm.
Morgan had once told him—modern spells were merely simplified fragments of ancient magic. And with the right method… they could be reversed, restored to their original form.
What Russell had just cast—
was that reversal.
For the first time, he had succeeded.
The cost came immediately.
His entire body went weak, his limbs trembling as if they no longer belonged to him. He nearly collapsed on the spot—only managing to stay upright after gulping down a potion he had prepared in advance.
Russell never fought unprepared.
But even now, he recognized a glaring weakness.
He still couldn't Apparate.