"What if he decides he never wants to leave school during the holidays?" Travers asked, still nursing his bruised pride and his physical injuries, unable to fathom accepting defeat.
Yaxley threw his head back and laughed, a cold, calculated sound. "Then we simply wait until Easter break. If he is so desperate to hide that he stays until Easter, we wait until the summer recess. And if he somehow manages to evade us all summer, we simply wait until next year. He'll be a third-year then, won't he?"
"What exactly do you mean by that?" Wilkes asked, his eyes narrowing as a slow realization dawned on him.
"Exactly that," Yaxley confirmed, his smile turning sinister. "Third-years are required to visit Hogsmeade. And more importantly, next year, our annoying little constraints will be gone. Professor Burns's tenure is almost up; the Dark Lord's curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is a joke to no one. And Vanessa will have finally graduated. Slytherin House will be entirely my domain." Yaxley's eyes gleamed with ambition. "You want to restore the pureblood family's glory and make that half-blood pay a blood debt? Next year, he will bleed properly—literally."
"But what about our wands?" Travers bristled, unable to reconcile the grand plan with the immediate, stinging humiliation. "Are we seriously expected to buy new ones? That was my first wand, the one with the highest compatibility! And we're supposed to tolerate that bastard's arrogance for another six months?"
"What's your great hurry, Sampur?" Yaxley asked, stroking his chin dismissively. "A viper always lies dormant before it makes a definitive, deadly strike. As for the wands, you will pay the ransom and get them back. Do you understand? You will be patient, and you will not provoke him for the next six months."
"Pay him? Are we actually going to hand over our Galleons to that… that child? That is an act of total submission!" Travers cried out, unable to believe the order.
"This is a vital lesson for all of you. It is entirely inappropriate for us upperclassmen to be engaging in campus skirmishes right now," Yaxley stated, his brow furrowed with genuine concern.
"That old fool Burns is not blind. I can constantly sense a subtle scrutiny, a vague feeling of being watched when I try to move freely around the grounds. Only when they are gone—the Head of House, the Head Girl, the Auror trainees—will I be able to move unimpeded." Yaxley subconsciously rubbed his neck, the elusive feeling of surveillance always present, always just beyond his grasp.
Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the elaborate plotting focused on his future downfall, Anduin arrived at Professor Borns's office. The door was slightly ajar, and Professor Borns was sitting at his desk, peering intently through his magical monocle.
The delicate silver runes etched into the monocle's side emitted a faint, constant glow, indicating that the complex alchemical scrying artifact was active and monitoring something.
"Professor," Anduin called softly, stepping inside. He realized Borns was deeply absorbed in his observation.
Borns blinked, snapping out of his deep concentration, recognizing Anduin instantly. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Anduin, what is it? It's not quite the hour for our usual nightly consultation."
"Have you received any update regarding the Longbottoms?" Anduin asked, his voice betraying his deep concern.
Hearing the name, Borns's good cheer instantly evaporated, and his expression clouded over with a deep frown.
"I just received a message from Emily Vance, who is assisting in their care at St. Mungo's. Their lives are no longer in danger, thankfully, but they haven't regained consciousness. The prolonged torture from the Cruciatus Curse inflicted during the attack seems to have caused significant, lasting damage."
A wave of relief washed over Anduin, swiftly followed by renewed, cold determination. They were alive. He took a deep breath. "Professor, I have received information from a source within Slytherin House. I now know, with a high degree of certainty, who attacked the Longbottoms."
Borns immediately sat bolt upright, knocking over a stack of quills. He looked at Anduin, his eyes narrowed, his entire demeanor shifting to that of a focused investigator. "Are you absolutely sure of this claim, Anduin?"
"Yes, Professor. The source is entirely reliable," Anduin confirmed, recalling the raw, unfiltered terror and betrayal he had extracted from Travers and Wilkes.
"Who are the culprits, then? Tell me everything." After months of working with Anduin, Borns had developed a profound trust in the boy's judgment and intelligence.
"I have learned that the Lestrange family—specifically Rabastan, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus—have been operating from a temporary secret outpost located near the Purple River Valley in County Surrey," Anduin explained, reciting the details with the cool precision of a barrister. "This location is extremely close to where the Longbottoms were patrolling. It is highly probable that the two Aurors stumbled upon the three Death Eaters and were ambushed."
Professor Borns stared at Anduin, his expression a mixture of profound shock and suspicion. This young man had not only identified the attackers, but their precise hiding spot—information that had eluded the Ministry's elite Auror task force for months.
"Anduin," Borns began, his voice dropping to a low, sincere tone. "I know you deeply care about the Longbottom family, but you must understand that good intentions alone are not enough. Heaven and hell are often just a single step apart. Even the Dark Lord himself was once an incredibly promising young man before his fall. Do you grasp the weight of what I am saying?"
"I grasp it entirely, Professor. And I thank you for the warning. I know myself perfectly well," Anduin said, meeting the older wizard's gaze without flinching. He paused, a faint, wry smile touching his lips. "But I am a Slytherin, Professor Borns. And I have never made a habit of following the rules, especially when it comes to retribution."
Borns nodded slightly, sensing that he had said all he could. He would not preach morality to a boy who had just survived a war. He simply accepted the information and the accompanying moral ambiguity.
"The Lestrange family is already wanted for multiple atrocities and is considered armed and extremely dangerous. We've suspected them, but lacked a definitive location," Borns said, rising from his chair, his focus now fully on the next steps. "Your information is not just timely, Anduin, it's critical. I will inform Alastor Moody immediately."
Anduin nodded his acknowledgment, turned, and walked out of the office, the urgency of his mission now shared with the one person he believed was trustworthy.
Later that evening, in the bustling Slytherin Common Room, Anduin sat reading a thick tome on advanced warding spells when he saw a young wizard approach him hesitantly.
It was Evan Rosier, the boy Wilkes had tasked with the humiliating duty of retrieving their wands.
Anduin couldn't help but chuckle softly when he saw the awkward, terrified young man approach. "I honestly didn't expect you to be the one sent on this pathetic errand, Rosier."
Rosier flinched, glancing nervously toward the cluster of older students huddled conspiratorially in a far corner—Yaxley, Wilkes, and Travers among them. "What did you… what exactly did you do to Elder Wilkes? Every time he hears his own name now, his eyes start to go red and unfocused. He looks genuinely shattered," Rosier whispered.
"Then I suggest you ask him yourself, Rosier. That is not my concern," Anduin said, dismissing the question with a wave of his hand. "Enough triviality. Did he bring the Galleons?"
"That is… one hundred and forty Galleons," Rosier stammered, holding out a heavy, jingling leather pouch with trembling hands. "How did you manage this? They actually paid you, just to get their wands back? I thought they were going to gather the whole House and mount an attack."
"It seems they are not entirely stupid after all, or perhaps one among them possesses a sliver of intellect that the others lack," Anduin said, taking the heavy pouch and casually tossing it onto his desk. He didn't answer Rosier's question, instead offering a cryptic, irrelevant observation.
"What… what do you mean by that, Anduin?" Rosier asked, surprised by the implied threat.
"They wouldn't dare cause a proper, full-scale uproar here in the school, would they?" Anduin taunted, leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the distant group. "They're going to wait until I let my guard down and try to trap me outside. Have they formalized any plans to deal with me?"
"No, no formal plans. But I can tell you this: they are all filled with a terrifying hatred, Anduin. They absolutely won't let this go easily," Rosier assured him, recalling the twisted, vengeful expressions on their faces.
"Naturally. And I, in turn, will not let them go so easily," Anduin countered, his voice chilling. "Go back now. Keep a close eye on those men for me. Let me know if anything, anything at all, happens—especially regarding their travel plans for the Christmas break."
"I understand, but… are you truly prepared to declare full-scale war on the senior House? Based on their current behavior, they won't treat you the way they treat the Gryffindors. If blood is shed, Anduin, you could be expelled, or even face Azkaban," Rosier warned, stepping backward, suddenly fearful for his own involvement.