Cardinal Alofman sat beneath the open canopy of his tent on the hilltop, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
Dressed in his full crimson ecclesiastical robes, he exuded an imposing aura, looking every bit the general commanding an army of hundreds of thousands.
The reason for his squirming, however, was far less dignified. The rotting sores on his body were itching and stinging again.
It was unbearable. He wanted to scratch, but he didn't dare.
Decades of a chaotic, debauched private life had turned his body into a breeding ground for foul infections. It was a condition—or rather, a curse—that even healing magic couldn't cure.
Fighting the urge to scratch, his mind drifted to the vampire, Ryan Evans. He wondered about the infant.
Had the child awakened after the Pope's blessing? If he had, how long would it take for the brat to grow big enough to provide enough blood for a total transfusion?
Alofman fantasized about his new life after the blood swap—a return to unchecked luxury and hedonism. The thought made him linger on the pleasant daydream.
Although his eyes were fixed on Hogwarts, currently besieged by the sea of elves, his mind was far away from the battle.
In his view, any force that opposed the Church would inevitably be crushed by its overwhelming power. It was a foregone conclusion. There was nothing to worry about.
Just as he was staring blankly at the battlefield from his high vantage point, several powerful fire dragons erupted from the castle's wards.
The fiery beasts carved glowing red trenches through the mass of elves. But even this display of power only merited a casual glance from the Cardinal.
After all, Hogwarts was a school for wizards. It was only natural they would fight back.
"Hardly a surprise," he muttered, showing no reaction.
As the Commander-in-Chief, Alofman had plenty of manpower at his disposal. He had ten squads of Black Prison Wizards right here with him.
Furthermore, standing closely around his table were four figures in heavy black cloaks, their faces completely obscured.
The leaders of the Black Prison squads exchanged glances. Seeing that the Commander had no orders, they remained silent, standing with lowered heads, waiting for instructions.
Absolute obedience was the only law for a Black Prison Wizard. Anything less meant immediate execution.
---
Shortly after the fire dragons, bolts of lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating the battlefield.
A sudden peal of thunder startled Alofman, making him flinch. He watched as dense clusters of lightning began to strike the battlefield in a linear pattern.
The power of the lightning strikes was comparable to muggle artillery, and the positioning was precise—just as Rey had designed it.
Rey and Helena moved in sync with the thunder. Where the lightning struck, they followed. As the bolts cleared the path, the pressure of the crowd around them instantly lifted.
When lightning hits the ground in a densely packed crowd, the conductivity is lethal.
Rey had cast a generic insulation charm on his team. As they moved, the elves around them collapsed in droves, twitching and smoking.
Smelling the scent of charred flesh and stepping over the skeletal bodies of the elves, Rey and Helena used the lightning-cleared path to punch through the encirclement rapidly.
All the elves were facing Hogwarts, pushing forward. So, when a small group of "elves" started moving away from the castle in the wake of the lightning, they stood out like a sore thumb.
From his hilltop vantage point, Cardinal Alofman naturally noticed the lightning.
The storm didn't last long.
During the flashes, he spotted the suspicious figures moving against the tide. He raised two fingers and pointed lazily.
Immediately, two squads of Black Prison Wizards broke formation and rushed toward the direction he indicated.
Alofman assumed these anomalies were merely cowardly wizards from Hogwarts trying to flee the siege in disguise.
For a few scared deserters, two squads were more than enough.
---
Rey and Helena weren't the only ones using the lightning to escape. Following closely behind them was Andre Rosier, the low-key middle-aged wizard.
He stuck to them like a shadow. It was hard to imagine how he managed to move through the chaotic crush of bodies without getting separated alone.
Creating the lightning path hadn't been easy for Rey. Even Helena, who was just focusing on defense, looked tired. But Andre Rosier? He wasn't even breathing hard.
Rey noted this detail, and his suspicion of the man deepened.
A wizard of Andre's caliber should have been part of the Founders' raid team on the Vatican, or at least holding a high command in the castle defense. He shouldn't be a nobody.
Once out of the encirclement, Rey quickly moved to a secluded spot to wait.
This was the agreed-upon rendezvous point. They would wait fifteen minutes. If anyone hadn't made it out by then, they would be left behind.
Terence Barrow and the thin wizard burst out of the encirclement in the final minute.
They looked wretched. Their robes were torn, and they sported several cuts and bruises. Clearly, they had suffered on the way out.
Terence hadn't followed Rey's path initially. Arrogantly, he thought breaking out would be a piece of cake for someone of his skill.
He was wrong. Eventually, he had been forced to compromise and tail the lightning path Rey created just to scrape by.
The moment he was clear of the crowd, he cast a Mending Charm to fix his clothes, trying to look composed. But Rey and the others, watching from the shadows, had seen everything.
As Terence walked into the hiding spot pretending to be calm and unruffled, Rey and Helena didn't bother to call him out. As for Andre Rosier, he acted as if he hadn't seen a thing.
"Since everyone is here, we'll split into three directions..."
"Actually, hold that thought."
Rey had intended to split the team to find the summoning circles faster. But he stopped mid-sentence.
He sensed several magical signatures approaching rapidly.
Andre Rosier lowered his gaze, his eyes flickering. He sensed them too. He glanced at Rey with genuine surprise. He hadn't expected the boy's sensory abilities to be this sharp.
---
Black Prison Wizards lived in the dark. They were experts at moving stealthily through the night.
Rey and Helena locked eyes and nodded, reaching a silent understanding. Rey then mouthed a warning to the rest of the team.
" Lumos Solem! "
A sharp, feminine shout rang out.
Just as Rey finished his silent warning, Helena whipped out her wand and fired a spell ten meters above their heads.
BANG!
A soft pop was followed by an explosion of blinding white light. It was like a miniature sun had detonated in the night sky.
Anyone looking in that direction instinctively threw their arms up to shield their eyes.
For the enemies creeping up on them in the pitch dark, fully adapted to the night vision, the sudden flare was devastating. Their eyes stung violently, their vision turning into a wash of agonizing white.
Terence and the others, warned by Rey, had closed their eyes just in time. The Black Prison Wizards weren't so lucky.
Two squads. Six wizards. They had been staring intently at Rey's group, preparing to strike.
They were creatures of the dark. They hated strong light. The result was catastrophic for them.
In that split second of blindness, Rey's team moved.
" Diffindo! Petrificus Totalus! Avada Kedavra! "
A barrage of lethal spells erupted from the bushes.
The Black Prison Wizards, blinded and screaming in pain, couldn't react. Resistance was impossible.
Whether intentional or not, the counter-ambush was brutal. In less than three seconds, four of the six enemies were dead.
The remaining two lay on the ground, unconscious and petrified.
---