Kingsley Shacklebolt, a senior Auror of the British Ministry of Magic, stood speechless as members of the Fire Serpent Party and the Royal Guard hurled insults at each other across a broad street.
Occasionally, a spell would be fired—usually a sneak attack—only to be neutralized by an invisible barrier that shimmered faintly in the air.
At first, when the Royal Guard joined the battle, the Fire Serpent Party was pushed back steadily until they reached this wide thoroughfare, which separated the inner and outer parts of the city. At that critical moment, the outer city's defensive magic array activated—scarlet beams of light shot out, disintegrating many Royal Guards instantly.
This unexpected reversal reignited the Fire Serpent Party's morale. Their members began shouting, demanding a counterattack. But the Royal Guard retaliated using their own magic array, cutting down dozens of their enemies in turn.
Now, neither side dared advance. The battle had devolved into a tense standoff that had dragged on for over an hour and a half.
Kingsley glanced at his watch. The enchanted cat-owl he had dispatched at the onset of the Fire Serpent Party's ambush should have reached the Ministry of Magic by now. He silently wondered if Director Scrimgeour had sent reinforcements.
Reinforcements...
Kingsley let out a quiet snort. The Ministry had just over a hundred Aurors and around two hundred and fifty Hit Wizards in total. Yet, more than two hundred of them were already stationed within Merlin City. Even if Scrimgeour brought everyone available, the difference they could make would be negligible.
Worse still, Kingsley saw a fresh wave of Fire Serpent Party members emerging from the far end of the street.
From a distance, the newcomers appeared as a black-and-red tide of wizarding robes. Kingsley, after days of reconnaissance, had learned to distinguish between the uniforms: black robes with red trim indicated native British wizards, while solid red robes marked foreign infiltrators.
The conclusion was chilling—the Fire Serpent Party had evolved into an international criminal organization.
At the head of the new arrivals marched a tall wizard radiating a powerful aura. As he approached, every Fire Serpent member in the standoff turned and bowed to him in unison.
Kingsley's eyes narrowed as he spotted the golden badge on the wizard's chest.
The real test had arrived.
"I am Leonard Vanber, leader of the Fire Serpent Party!" the man declared, his voice projecting effortlessly across the battlefield. "Those across from me—if you surrender or retreat, I swear not a single hair on your heads will be harmed. But if you persist in your stubbornness, then do not blame me for being ruthless!"
Immediately, a Royal Guard captain roared back in heavily accented English:
"You're dreaming! We will not retreat a single step!"
Vanber sighed and shook his head, as though scolding a child.
"Your pay is what? A few dozen Galleons? Is that really worth your life?"
He casually tossed a cloth sack over the heads of the Royal Guard and Aurors. As it landed, countless seeds spilled out and scattered across the cobbled street.
"Answer my call, friends who never wither!"
As Vanber chanted in a low voice, the seeds began to root and sprout at an astonishing speed. Within mere moments, lush vegetation burst forth and thickened. Kingsley realized with horror that they were surrounded by a dense tangle of magical plants.
Tentacles of Devil's Snare reached toward them, slithering and coiling with sinister intent. Any escape route was immediately blocked by enormous clusters of Venomous Tentacula.
Devil's Snare was a threat, but mostly incapacitating. Venomous Tentacula, on the other hand, had a 90% kill rate. The remaining 10%? Only if treatment was received within ten minutes—an unlikely scenario amid a battlefield.
The entire Royal Guard and Auror force was swallowed by the Devil's Snare in seconds.
Kingsley's head poked out from the tangled vines, his limbs bound tightly and unable to move. The plant's grip was suffocating, yet it hadn't harmed him. Not yet.
Leonard Vanber led his forces across the wide street, the line that separated Merlin City's inner sanctum from its vulnerable outskirts. His voice rang out again, sharp and commanding:
"Magic Array Disassembly Team—move! Secure control of the inner city's barrier! Everyone else, with me! Let's loosen up the old bones of those pampered purebloods who still think they're untouchable!"
"Yes, sir!"
Kingsley could've sworn Vanber glanced at him sideways, just for a moment.
But he didn't have the luxury to ponder it. The Fire Serpent Party began marching past—organized, confident, and frighteningly numerous.
One minute passed. Then another. Then three.
The enemy formation—six or seven abreast—continued parading in front of Kingsley for a full eight minutes.
Eight minutes.
Kingsley's mind raced. Just how many members did the Fire Serpent Party have?!
At the Merlin City Central Council Hall:
"Disaster! They've breached the inner city!"
"What?! What happened to the Royal Guard?"
"They were annihilated! Their leader—Vanber—defeated them with a single move!"
"That's impossible! Not even the Dark Lord could pull that off!"
"Believe it! The Fire Serpent Party is almost here! What should we do?"
"Should we regroup and try to hold the Central Hall? Maybe Earl Dantes will show up?"
"No way! I'm hiding in my cellar! You haven't seen how many of them there are! We won't last a minute!"
"Why isn't the Earl here? Isn't this his city?"
"Run! Before it's too late!"
Meanwhile, Old Avery woke up, groaning softly.
It was still dark out, the hours just before dawn. He struggled into a sitting position and looked around. A dozen others lay nearby, some missing—probably having woken earlier and left.
What had happened?
As his memories returned in fragments, Ollivander Avery clutched at the robe over his chest.
Oh no. It was all gone.
Staggering to his feet, he stumbled toward his home, hoping beyond hope that this nightmare wasn't real.
As he passed, people on the streets were speaking loudly, voices filled with urgency.
"Get to the city wall! Earl Dantes has pushed them back to the gates!"
"What?! Are you serious?!"
"He took back control of the magic array!"
"He might even recover our stolen money! If he does, I'd gladly give him half in thanks!"
Avery's eyes gleamed. The Earl had arrived.
He was no longer a drowning man—he'd found a lifeline.
Fueled by desperation and shaky resolve, the seventy-eight-year-old man broke into a run. The hours he had spent unconscious gave him just enough energy for this last sprint.
As he climbed the city wall, cheers erupted. His legs gave way multiple times on the steep steps, and he lost a few teeth from a fall, blood filling his mouth—but he didn't care.
He reached the top. The crowd was packed. Everyone was shouting the same name—
Earl Dantes.
Avery looked outward, eyes wide in disbelief.
The plains beyond the wall were covered in writhing, grotesque plants. The Fire Serpent Party had been repelled. But what caught his breath was the sky.
Hebridean Black Dragons.
Dozens of them. No—hundreds.
And atop the largest of them sat a lone figure.
Avery knew at once. That was Earl Dantes. There could be no doubt.
If he recalled correctly, the name of that massive dragon was…
Big Butt.
Big Butt unleashed a torrential wave of fire, and the magic array above amplified the flame into a cataclysmic inferno. Entire clusters of monstrous vegetation disintegrated.
Apparently, even that wasn't enough for the Earl.
He raised his right hand.
Purple lightning sparked into existence, building into a dense orb of charged energy. With a sharp movement, he hurled it to the ground.
The explosion lit up the night, revealing a gaping crater.
From within it, countless bolts of "electric snakes" surged in every direction. They leapt across the battlefield, piercing through tentacles, plants, and even colliding with the city's magical shield, which sizzled under the pressure.
The Devil's Snare and Venomous Tentacula began to wither. In the next moment, the dragons swooped in again, and in just two sweeps of coordinated dragon fire, the plain was reduced to ash.
Big Butt carried the Earl through the air, heading toward the Central Council Hall.
The city shield parted, opening a passage for them.
As the massive dragon soared above the wall, the people below erupted into a roar of triumphant cheers.
The Earl's voice rang out:
"All those responsible for city defense—report to the Central Council Hall!"
His voice was cold, laced with fury.
But to Old Avery, it sounded like music from the heavens.
Whether or not he would get his money back didn't matter anymore.
The Earl was here.
He was saved.
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