"This is the most common way to use ancestral magic," Nathael said, hand on his wand as he walked among the smoldering ruins of Kingston Falls' center. "It's blended with modern magic. This way, the spell gains depth, resilience, and power—without losing precision."
Draco and Hermione listened intently, mentally noting every word. The sun now peeked over the horizon, illuminating empty streets and damaged buildings. The gremlins were gone. Silence, at last, was real.
"But there's another way," Nathael continued, stopping beneath what remained of an iron-wrought streetlamp. "Using only ancestral magic—no modern spells. Like my Black Chains of Vindr. I've mastered them so thoroughly that with a mere hand gesture, I can summon them. But someone untrained must first trace runes, process them, chant in ancient tongues… and even then, they require enormous magical reserves."
Hermione nodded, eyes alight.
"So… modern magic is like a tool… and ancestral magic, the root?"
"Exactly," Nathael said, smiling. "That's why, for now, we'll focus only on combining both—especially with a spell you already know well: Incendio."
They both nodded.
Draco seemed more relaxed, less rigid. Watching Nathael obliterate gremlins with Incendio had shifted something in him. It was no longer about blood superiority. It was about mastery.
Nathael turned to Billy, who still clutched his backpack as if it were the last thing he had in the world.
"Now… the mogwai."
Billy paled. He clutched the backpack tighter.
"He's my friend," he said, voice breaking. "Gizmo."
"I know," Nathael said gently.
Celestia, perched on his shoulder, added:
"Don't worry. We'll cast an Obliviate on you. Neither you nor anyone in this town will remember what happened. Not the gremlins. Not us. Not even… Gizmo."
Kate, who'd been silent until now, tensed.
"Me too?" she asked, looking straight at Nathael.
"Yes," Celestia said firmly. "It's protocol. MACUSA won't allow Muggles to remember magic."
"But… I don't want to forget this," Kate said quietly. "I don't want to forget… what I saw. What you did."
Celestia looked at her. Then at Nathael. A sly, almost feline smile touched her lips.
Another one, she thought. Another soul fallen for those blue eyes and that quiet arrogance.
"You have no choice," Celestia said. "If we don't do it… MACUSA will. And they won't let you decide. They'll wipe your mind completely. Without mercy."
Billy, resigned, let out a long sigh. Then, with trembling hands, he opened the backpack.
From within, a small head emerged—bright eyes, soft fur, rounded ears. Gizmo looked at Nathael with a mix of curiosity and fear.
Hermione couldn't help herself. She reached out and gently stroked him.
"He's… adorable."
Billy swallowed hard.
"Please… take care of him."
Nathael looked at him deeply—not with harshness, but honesty.
"Billy… maybe one day you'll be ready to care for him. But for now… you're not. I'll take him to his rightful owner."
Billy nodded, tears in his eyes.
At that exact moment, the air tensed.
A sharp crack. Then another. And another.
Several meters away, six figures Apparated—wands raised, dark robes, silver insignias, stern expressions.
"MACUSA," Celestia murmured.
"Took them long enough," Nathael said dryly.
The lead wizard—a man in his forties, with a prominent belly and a permanent frown—stepped forward.
"Stow your wand!" he ordered, aiming directly at Nathael.
Nathael smiled—but obeyed, slowly and deliberately sliding his wand into its sheath.
"We're tourists," he said calmly. "We passed through town and found… a disaster. Decided to help. The gremlins are no longer a problem."
The man—introducing himself as Gary—frowned.
"We received reports of unusual magical activity. Very intense." He glanced at Draco and Hermione. "And them?"
"My students," Nathael said. "I'm an academic consultant at Hogwarts."
Gary blinked, surprised.
"Hogwarts? The British school?"
"The very same."
Gary hesitated. He lowered his wand slightly.
"Still, you'll have to come with us. We need reports, statements, verification…"
"I understand," Nathael said. "But we're on a very tight schedule. We must be in New York tonight."
He paused, then added with a subtle smile:
"Besides… why not take the credit? You arrive—and oh, what a surprise! You wiped out the gremlins in minutes! They'll probably give you a raise. Maybe even a medal."
Gary's eyes gleamed. He coughed, uncomfortable—but nodded.
"Well… if the problem's already solved… no need to trouble you."
Nathael nodded, satisfied.
"Thank you."
Gary turned to his team.
"Wipe every memory in this town! Everything! Including those two!" He pointed at Billy and Kate.
Without thinking, Kate stepped forward.
"I'm his girlfriend!" she declared, pointing at Nathael.
Silence fell.
Billy's jaw dropped. Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione frowned.
Nathael looked at her, surprised—but didn't deny it.
Gary, after a moment's hesitation, nodded.
"Well… then she stays. But the boy… yes."
Billy lowered his head. A soft spell touched his forehead. His eyes glazed over. Then he simply walked away, as if nothing had happened.
Gary and his team dispersed through the town to clean up the mess.
Silence returned.
"Let's go to the hotel," Nathael said. "We'll gather our things and return to New York."
They all nodded and headed inside.
Only Nathael and Kate remained outside.
She bit her lip.
"I'm sorry… about the… girlfriend thing."
"No problem," Nathael said, crossing his arms. "But… why did you do it?"
Kate looked at him. And in her eyes wasn't just admiration—there was sadness. Longing. Curiosity.
"Because… I don't want to forget this. I don't want to forget any of it." She paused. "Also… I heard you're foreigners. I could come with you. I know this part of the country well. I could be your guide."
Nathael hesitated. But he saw no malice—only a young woman who, after glimpsing a hidden world, refused to return to the shadows.
"Alright," he said. "Pack your things."
Kate ran off toward her house, a smile lighting her face.
Nathael entered the hotel.
Celestia greeted him with a feline grin.
"It seems you have a girlfriend now."
"I'm a free soul," Nathael said, adjusting his trench coat. "I don't take the initiative… but I don't refuse either. And I never take responsibility."
Draco looked at him, surprised. It was a side of Nathael he'd never seen—not just the hunter, not just the teacher… but the man who drew hearts without trying.
Hermione, however, frowned in disapproval.