Hunter Association, President's Office
"President, thus far, our Team Number 5 has received 236 leads, most of which are traces of other wizards," reported a middle-aged man in yellow robes to the wizard seated across from him. "The remaining leads connect to pure-blood families and dark wizards. Do you think we need to intervene?"
The seated wizard was Luca, who now served not only as the principal of Ilvermorny but also as the acting president of the Hunter-Slayer Association.
Not long ago, Lord Voldemort had mandated a three-day deadline to elect a president. Under normal circumstances, ambitious candidates would compete using every method at their disposal, but with such a tight timeframe—and with Lord Riddle himself issuing the decree—many potential candidates had abandoned the idea altogether.
It was painfully obvious that whoever became president would likely fail to capture the dark wizards of Kamar-Taj, which would inevitably incur Lord Riddle's wrath. Most wizards aspired to high-ranking positions for the prestige, generous compensation, and authority—not to live in constant terror of Voldemort's scrutiny.
Of course, while some wizards thought this way, others believed that true wealth could only be found amid danger. The Hunter Association commanded tremendous resources and manpower. If they still failed to capture the Kamar-Taj wizards after mobilizing such forces, they would indeed deserve punishment—perhaps even death.
This was Luca's conviction. He believed, with absolute certainty, that a group of dark wizards hiding in Tibet could only have survived because nobody had bothered to look carefully. Now that the entire magical federation had mobilized its forces, how could they possibly fail to eliminate these troublemakers?
Therefore, Luca had seized this opportunity. To secure the presidency, he had issued a military order in front of everyone, promising that if no trace of the Kamar-Taj dark wizards was found within a month, he would resign voluntarily and personally apologize to Lord Riddle.
Others lacked his resolve, which was why he had become the acting president of the Hunter Association. Despite issuing the military order, he would remain "acting president" until the order was fulfilled, at which point he would become the official president.
Nevertheless, Luca was satisfied. He had proposed the current strategy: dispatching hunters to conduct thorough searches in every American city. He had even abandoned the search on other continents to concentrate all the Hunter-Slayer Association's resources on America.
Luca firmly believed that the Kamar-Taj dark wizards must still be in America. Even if most had retreated, some must remain behind. After all, America had been the dark wizards' former haven. A complete evacuation seemed impossible. He was willing to stake everything on this wager!
Wealth comes through risk-taking—wasn't it perfectly reasonable to accept some risk in the pursuit of fortune?
"President, I'm concerned about whether the pure-blood families might be connected to the Kamar-Taj dark wizards," the middle-aged wizard ventured. "Should we include pure-blood wizards in our investigation?"
Luca was left speechless. He knew some people remained dissatisfied with his appointment as acting president. Though they couldn't openly defy his orders, they could certainly create problems like this.
Investigate pure-blood families? Even if they genuinely had connections to the Kamar-Taj dark wizards, such an investigation would be politically impossible. Throughout the magical federation, pure-bloods commanded respect. Everyone knew this. Without irrefutable evidence, pursuing such an investigation would be like lighting a powder keg.
"We can investigate pure-blood families, but only with substantive evidence," Luca said carefully. "I need evidence—with evidence, I can justify any action. Without it, we're merely spreading slander. We must remain targeted in our approach. Federal magical laws are no joke."
The middle-aged wizard nodded rapidly to show understanding.
As he prepared to continue, a sudden knock interrupted them.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Following Luca's invitation to enter, Draco pushed open the door and walked in.
"Wizard Tutai, do you have anything else to report?" Luca asked pointedly.
The middle-aged wizard—Tutai—recognized his dismissal and quickly replied in the negative before turning to leave. Before exiting, he cast a thoughtful glance at Draco and the documents in his hand.
Once they were alone, Luca's expression softened into a faint smile as he gestured for Draco to sit. With a casual wave of his wand, an empty glass appeared on the table.
"Draco, have something to drink. Perhaps some milk tea?"
His attitude toward Draco was markedly warmer than toward Wizard Tutai. One was business; the other, personal. After all, Draco was Lucius's son and now served under Luca's command. He was considered part of Luca's faction.
Now approaching middle age, Draco was no longer the naïve youth he once had been. He approached with a polite smile, thanked Luca, and sat down, requesting only water.
With another wave of his wand, Luca provided the requested water and asked with a smile, "Draco, do you bring good news? The Hunter Association needs some positive developments to reinvigorate our rather lethargic atmosphere. Some wizards talk big but deliver little—a troubling trend."
Luca rubbed his brow, appearing slightly distressed. The presidency wasn't easy, especially as a recent appointee. Some made promises they had no intention of keeping, yet there was little he could do about it. After all, he had only been in office for a week.
At this stage, he relied heavily on his subordinates and faction members. Fortunately, as Ilvermorny's principal, he commanded considerable respect throughout America. Many pure-blood families and even the Ministry of Magic were willing to cooperate with his initiatives, if only to maintain good relations.
"President, I bring both good and bad news," Draco said softly after sipping his water.
"Oh?" Luca's curiosity was piqued. "Tell me the bad news first. We should always save the best for last."
Draco still knew how to play the game, it seemed.
"President, regarding our search for Kamar-Taj," Draco began, "despite offering substantial rewards and mobilizing all available forces, we've made no progress. I suspect they may have received advance warning. We can't rule out the possibility that certain wizards are feeding them information."
Draco's expression darkened as he spoke. He had not only deployed his team members but also leveraged his connections throughout the Americas. He had even utilized his father's prestige and network to seek leads on the Kamar-Taj dark wizards.
All for nothing. Or, more precisely, any leads they obtained were already obsolete and worthless. Draco's confidence was eroding, but he pressed on.
"And the good news?" Luca prompted, seemingly unaffected by the disappointing report.
Perhaps he already knew. After all, his connections in America far surpassed Draco's. If Luca had no valuable information, it would have been surprising if Draco did.
"We've captured a wizard," Draco announced gravely. "We suspect he has close ties to Kamar-Taj."
"Continue," Luca urged, his tone sharpening with interest, his eyes glinting with expectation.
"Given our suspicion that the Kamar-Taj shamans might flee America for other continents under our intense pressure, we deployed personnel to strictly monitor border crossings and illegal departure routes, hoping to intercept them and gather intelligence."
"Yes," Luca nodded, indicating he was following.
"But we never expected to catch a wizard traveling in the opposite direction—he wasn't leaving America but entering it. Our surveillance team noticed his reaction when Kamar-Taj was mentioned; his expression changed significantly. He even made inquiries about them. At that point, our operatives moved in, subdued him, and placed him under arrest. He's currently being held in our interrogation room."
Luca's eyes visibly brightened. "Have you extracted any information?"
"No." Draco's face clouded over again. "Veritaserum has proven ineffective. The prisoner's soul appears to have some form of protection, rendering Legilimency useless. Even more remarkably, when we applied the Cruciatus Curse, he somehow resisted its effects."
"We feared killing him, so we refrained from more extreme measures," Draco added solemnly, a hint of frustration coloring his tone. They had obtained such a valuable lead but were constrained by the risk of killing their only source of information.
"Are you certain?" Luca asked, surprised. "You cast the Cruciatus Curse, and he resisted?"
This was one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Who could possibly endure such torment?
"I wouldn't say he endured it exactly," Draco recalled. "When I cast the Cruciatus Curse, he closed his eyes. If he hadn't still been breathing, I would have thought him dead. Initially, I assumed he had lost consciousness from the pain, but when I lifted the curse, he immediately awakened. I suspect he may possess some special technique to evade its effects."
Hearing this, Luca tapped his fingers lightly against the table, producing a rhythmic clicking sound as he considered the implications.
"So despite capturing him, we've gained nothing," Draco concluded, his expression grim.
As an Auror, his inability to extract information from a prisoner was deeply humiliating.
"What do you propose now?" Luca asked gravely.
If experienced Aurors specialized in interrogation had failed, Luca saw little point in intervening personally. What he needed were results—something he could present to both the Hunter Association and Lord Riddle.
He believed Draco wouldn't have come merely to complain; that would be beneath a veteran Auror office director.
"President, I would like to request, in the name of the Association, that a treasure be brought from London," Draco said.
"What treasure?"
"The former artifact of the goblins—the Goblin Eyes!"
Hunter Association, Interrogation Room
In the dimly lit interrogation chamber, a young man in tattered clothes was bound tightly to a cold black cross. His garments were visibly shredded, covered in blood and bearing the marks of repeated whipping.
Across from this prisoner, two Aurors sat at a table, conversing casually while occasionally glancing at the captive, whose head hung low as if unconscious.
Neither Auror noticed the transparent figure that had appeared beside the bound prisoner—a spectral form observing their every movement.
At that moment, Rhodes was consumed with rage. He longed to tear the two Aurors before him to pieces, to release his hatred through violence. But reason prevailed, warning him that such action would only ensure his death.
He had only one chance.
Rhodes was currently in an out-of-body state—a magical technique mastered by all adepts of Kamar-Taj. The wizarding world, however, seemed to have little knowledge of this type of magic. Thus, when faced with torture, Rhodes had chosen to project his consciousness beyond his physical form.
The spells struck his body, but with his soul elsewhere, he suffered minimal damage. The same applied to their other torture methods, allowing him to endure until now.
He didn't resort to astral projection continuously, only when the pain became unbearable. This strategy had successfully lulled the Auror wizards into complacency.
Rhodes had spent some time in the wizarding world, first in Africa, then rushing to London to search for companions. Though he hadn't found any allies there, he had received a message directing him to the New York Temple, where Ian Vera, a disciple of the Supreme Sorcerer, happened to be staying.
Without hesitation, Rhodes had prepared to depart for New York. Unfortunately, he had overheard someone discussing Kamar-Taj and, out of curiosity, inquired about it. The result: an immediate attack. These bastards had even drugged him.
The memory stoked Rhodes's hatred, but even in the heart of enemy territory, his reason prevailed over his desire for revenge. He had one purpose now: escape.
His advantage lay in his mastery of magical techniques unknown to wizards—abilities from another world entirely. This gave him hope.
Now, he merely awaited an opportunity.
Time passed slowly. The two Aurors chatted idly, occasionally taking turns to leave the room. Periodically, they would rouse Rhodes with cold water or other methods, attempting to extract information through renewed torture.
Rhodes endured it all. Why betray others when survival remained possible?
After multiple failed interrogation attempts, the Aurors appeared increasingly helpless. There was nothing more they could do.
Late that night, the two Aurors conducted one final round of torture, again without success. They decided to leave, needing rest themselves. The interrogation had just begun; they had many more days to break their prisoner.
Rhodes observed their departure, a cold gleam in his eyes. Suppressing his excitement, he lowered his head and feigned unconsciousness.
Several checks occurred in the interim, but upon seeing the apparently unconscious Rhodes, the guards took no further action.
Finally, in the dead of night, a transparent figure waved its hands, conjuring a cyan wind blade from thin air. With a swift motion, the blade severed the bindings of the cross.
The bound body collapsed directly to the ground, and immediately afterward, the transparent figure merged with it.
Rhodes, his soul reunited with his physical form, raised his left hand after a quick survey of his surroundings. With a gentle touch of his right hand, a mysterious ring materialized on his finger.
Working quickly, he established a connection, summoned his remaining magical energy, and concentrated.
Buzz!
In an instant, a red flame teleportation portal manifested before him.
Without hesitation, Rhodes—his body still bearing the marks of his ordeal—stepped into the portal, vanishing from the interrogation room.
The red flame light disappeared, plunging the chamber back into darkness.
Rhodes had escaped.
What he didn't know, however, was that a pair of dark green eyes had been watching the entire scene from the doorway of the interrogation room.