"Nice control."
Grindelwald pulled the iron chair out of the monster's mouth and whistled cheerfully, the metallic twisting noise echoing sharply in the silent crypt, "Just slightly worse than when I was young."
William's boots stepped over the crystallized ground, the glass shards from the high-temperature baking emitted a delicate lament under his feet; at this moment, only a few wizards remained standing in the audience, while the Muggles who hadn't fled in time had already fallen into a magical sleep due to Dumbledore's magic.
When they awaken, they will naturally regard all of this as a vivid nightmare.
"Is it all settled, then?"
Lupin craned his neck towards the crack, roasted to a deep red, and looked down; the surrounding soil layer had been baked into a glass-like state, emanating wisps of pale white heat.
"Not yet."
William shook his head, looking upwards; above the stage, the bulletproof glass of the box seats had long ago melted into a honeycomb-like stained glass net, the light passing through the holes in the glass leaving mottled shadows on the ground.
By the window, feeling the gaze, Tarik-Ibn-Zeyad instinctively stepped back, only to find his back hitting the gilded liquor cabinet, the wine from 1892 spreading a blood-red stain over the deep blue Persian carpet, while his dark face was glazed with a sheen of oil, the result of sweat mixed with hair wax baked by the high temperature.
"I must leave..."
The man groaned instinctively, his awareness seemingly awakened by the groan, instinctively turning to pull open the door.
"Squeak—"
The metal door, slightly deformed by the high heat, let out a sound that made one's teeth ache.
But the instant the man opened the door, a look of horror crawled onto his face.
"Three minutes."
William's redwood wand emitted a ghostly blue light, illuminating the throbbing blood vessels on the other's neck, "Explain clearly how you can mass-produce Animagus... as well as the origin of those Quintapeds, or I will directly dismantle your memory. Your choice."
"Uh, it's just an alchemy formula found in the desert, want it? Five hundred Golden Galleons..."
Tarik's fingers stealthily reached for the crocodile skin belt at his side, but the Diffindo Spell sliced off his entire finger upon contact with the hidden pocket, the intense pain causing him to uncontrollably fall to the ground, blood beads splattering a plum blossom pattern on the purple Magic Barrier.
William used a Levitating Spell to catch the parchment not far behind the man, but just as it floated to William, it suddenly began to self-ignite, "Seems you don't understand—" The wand tip emitted a blue light, and the parchment that had just started burning floated mid-air, the flickering flames frozen in place, "Nice trigger-induced incineration magic."
Tarik's pupils shrank suddenly, and pride from graduating Uagadou made him choose to resist, his hands forming the opening gesture of the Tribe Battle Dance, and in the next moment, three Confringos shot from his fingertips, but collided with the purple barrier half an inch from William's chest—the absolute domain formed by the Iron Armor Spell did not even ripple.
"Uagadou's Wandless Magic is indeed interesting." William sighed helplessly, lightly touching his wand to cause the Sweet Chestnut Rose to break through the soil, its poisonous thorns piercing into Tarik's ankle, "Pity you soiled my boots... dragon hide, very expensive."
"Ugh!"
The man only felt a suffocating sensation approaching, as William's wand touched his temple, the sensation of his brain memory being pried open caused the man immense pain, almost instantly, a painful purplish-red appeared on his dark face.
"You don't need to say anymore."
"..."
After a moment of silence, the dying Black Wizard suddenly used all his strength to tear open his silk robe, the crimson Array appearing on his chest was identical to the one on those Quintapeds when they were mitotically dividing. William's Iron Armor Spell sensed the threat, as Tarik laughed maniacally and shouted in Zulu, "Repent before the goddess, British!"
"Boom!"
The violent explosion thoroughly shattered the box's glass, and when the deep blue light condensed the energy vortex, Dumbledore appeared behind William, kneeling one knee on the ground, guiding the last ripple of the shockwave into the earth with his Elder Wand, while in front of William, a charred human outline smoked in the flames, even the parchment that had just drifted before William disappeared.
But amidst the ensuing chaos in the box, the Egyptian mural behind the man remained intact—
There's something suspicious.
William withdrew his hand that had just reached out, a suspicious gaze fixed on the mural that hadn't been stained with even a trace of soot.
"Oh, what a clean explosion." Grindelwald kicked open the box-door frame, once again deformed, and sniffed the burnt scent in the air, "But at least it didn't affect my ice cream."
"Reparo. (Restore as before)"
Lupin quickly entered the room, pulled open the drawer of a table in the corner that had almost been blown into wooden boards, using a Repairing Charm to piece together the burnt file remnants, "Two and a half months ago, a shipping record from Cairo Harbor... Gringotts, well, looks like these poachers have dealings with the goblins too?"
Dumbledore put away his wand and walked behind William, "You should have waited for us."
"Almost, the explosion couldn't be stopped."
William shook his head, he had already tried, and didn't even fully touch the Array in the opponent's embrace.
The explosion was too swift; he clearly didn't think Dumbledore could have done much more.
At this moment, William's wand was slowly moving along the shallow recessed trajectory on the mural, blue light started to rise in his eyes, one by one blue-golden light dots gradually appeared in his sight, yet the others seemed completely oblivious to these suddenly appearing light dots.
This was the marking of Ancient Magic—no wonder that fatty so easily chose to self-destruct, believing this encryption method would be absolutely unbreakable.
Or... maybe he didn't even know of the Ancient Magic's remains here.
Hah, what a pity, William had initiated the "plot guidance."
"I have notified the Austrian Ministry of Magic—"
Dumbledore moved to the window, worry clouding his gaze as he looked at the massive fissure at the center of the stage, "What on earth are those things?"
The elder's question, of course, referred to the anomaly of those Quintapeds; despite the inherently aggressive nature of these creatures, their current frenzied state was beyond typical behavior, as was that utterly incongruous "mitotic division" appearing on a mammal.
"I don't know, but someone is definitely behind this chaos."
Grindelwald nonchalantly responded while scooping ice cream from the cup in his hand.
"Wow, such a creative comment."
William's wand slowly halted, watching the convergence of the blue-golden points of light representing the marks of Ancient Magic, he waved his wand, "Revelio. (Show the original form)"
The unerring spell, in the next instant, a golden shimmer flashed, the scarab pattern at the mural's corner suddenly protruded, William simply reached out to pry it onto his palm.
"What's this?"
Lupin placed down the documents in his hand, looking at the scarab, and instinctively asked.
"Good question."
William released his hand, but the unsupported scarab did not fall to the ground, instead slightly spinning orientation in the air, and in the next instant, clusters of blue-golden points streamed from the scarab's head, shooting towards the south—