Chapter 298: The Twins' Preparations and Trip to Paris
Inside Hogwarts' ancient stone walls, the atmosphere had grown suffocating since Dumbledore's dramatic departure. Umbridge had immediately seized the opportunity to issue a flurry of educational decrees, officially declaring herself Acting Headmistress with all the pomp and authority she could muster.
However, the headmaster's office door had sealed itself with a resounding click the moment Dumbledore vanished, and no amount of magical coercion could force it open. The ancient castle itself seemed to reject her presumptuous claim to power.
Meanwhile, the relentless efforts of the Wizard Daily and The Quibbler's persistent opposition campaign had begun bearing fruit throughout the wizarding community. Public dissatisfaction with Fudge's leadership grew like a festering wound, spreading through every magical household in Britain.
Countless Howlers arrived at the Ministry daily, their screaming voices creating such enormous pressure that the stress cascaded down through every bureaucratic layer until it landed squarely on Umbridge's already overburdened shoulders.
The pink-clad tyrant had attempted multiple times to force Veritaserum down Harry's throat, desperate to extract whatever secrets Dumbledore might have shared with the boy. But Harry had grown cleverer and more cautious, managing to evade every one of her increasingly frantic attempts through a combination of quick thinking and loyal friends watching his back.
After witnessing Dumbledore's exile, the Weasley twins had finally made their decision to leave Hogwarts behind. With generous financial support from two wealthy benefactors, Harry and Aiden, they had already secured and rented a prime shop location in the heart of Diagon Alley.
During their final weeks at school, they were determined to burn bright with the fires of youth, leaving behind a legacy that would be remembered for generations.
They began by preparing massive quantities of spectacular fireworks, then systematically distributed them throughout the student body like magical contraband. Young wizards would set them off at random intervals from dawn to dusk, keeping Umbridge running frantically through corridors like a demented pink hurricane.
The professors, meanwhile, observed Umbridge's increasingly desperate struggles with barely concealed amusement, their faces masks of professional neutrality that couldn't quite hide their satisfaction.
The twins had also combined their considerable talents to cast an elaborate spell in one of the main corridors. By merging advanced Transfiguration techniques with an Undetectable Extension Charm that Aiden had contributed through tremendous magical effort, they transformed an entire passageway into a bottomless swamp that trapped anyone foolish enough to enter.
"Enough of this chaos! Who is responsible for these disruptions? And why don't you professors do anything to stop the students' behaviour?" Umbridge shrieked at the assembled faculty during lunch, her face flushed with rage and exhaustion.
"If we recall correctly," Professor McGonagall said with deadly precision, adjusting her monocle with deliberate slowness, "your Educational Decree Number 29 explicitly prohibits professors from engaging in any activities unrelated to direct classroom instruction."
"Indeed," Professor Flitwick added cheerfully, also adjusting his monocle with theatrical timing. "We wouldn't dream of violating Ministry regulations."
Umbridge felt a chill of horror as she realised that every single professor in the Great Hall was now wearing identical monocles, their lenses catching the light like predatory eyes.
She turned toward the student seating area with growing dread, only to discover rows upon rows of uniform monocles staring back at her with silent accusation. The sight triggered vivid memories of being punched through the office floor, and the psychological trauma came flooding back.
"Ahhh!" Umbridge screamed in genuine terror and fled the Great Hall like a woman possessed.
"Hahaha!" The students erupted in delighted laughter that echoed off the ancient stone walls.
"Silence," Professor McGonagall commanded, though the slightly upturned corners of her mouth revealed her excellent mood. "Please continue with your meals."
That same evening, Cho sought out Harry with obvious distress etched across her delicate features. She desperately wanted to explain Marietta's situation and begged Hermione to remove the curse that had left her friend hospitalised.
Marietta had spent more than ten agonising days in the hospital wing, but the traitor pustules covering her face showed no signs of disappearing. Even Madam Pomfrey's considerable healing skills had proven completely ineffective against Hermione's vindictive magic.
But Harry firmly refused Cho's tearful pleas, his resolve hardened by the betrayal that had nearly cost his friends their freedom. The two had an explosive argument that ended with both parties storming away in opposite directions, their brief romance officially dead and buried.
Meanwhile, on the romantic streets of Paris, delicate snowflakes drifted down like crystalline confetti. A striking blonde girl wrapped in an elegant white coat walked alongside a silver-haired boy dressed in sleek black, their footsteps creating a synchronised rhythm against the cobblestones.
"So where exactly are we heading now?" Astoria asked with barely contained curiosity, her breath forming small clouds in the crisp winter air.
"Can't we simply enjoy a pleasant stroll through the city?" The dragon replied, though the cold air seemed to have made him somewhat lethargic and drowsy.
"Are you preparing to hibernate like a proper dragon?" Astoria teased with obvious affection.
"Unfortunately, we need to visit the Lestrange family ancestral grounds," Aiden explained with a weary sigh. "I strongly suspect Bellatrix might be hiding there, and we can't afford to let that particular loose end remain untied."
Suddenly, Astoria's ice-cold hand slipped inside his collar like a striking serpent.
"Mmm!" The dragon shivered violently from the unexpected contact.
"Ohoho," Astoria revealed a mischievous smile that promised future retribution.
In response, she was immediately hit in the face with a perfectly aimed pile of fresh snow. The dragon holding his wand raised one elegant eyebrow at her with mock superiority.
"Aiden Prewett, I challenge you to combat!" Astoria declared with theatrical grandeur, scooping up ammunition from the ground and launching herself at him with fierce determination.
An epic snowball fight ensued between two individuals whose physical abilities far exceeded normal human limitations. They hurled frozen projectiles at each other with supernatural accuracy and force.
The battle continued until one particularly enthusiastic snowball flew wide of its target and completely demolished a nearby telephone pole, sending splinters and metal fragments scattering across the street.
Both combatants immediately froze, staring at the destruction they had accidentally caused.
"Perhaps we should focus on our actual mission," Aiden suggested diplomatically.
"Agreed," Astoria replied with equal diplomatic grace.
They Apparated directly to the Lestrange cemetery, where the path leading to the central mausoleum was completely blocked by debris. The surrounding landscape still showed clear evidence of charred earth from ancient Fiendfyre burns that had never fully healed.
"Hell," Aiden murmured under his breath with obvious recognition.
"What did you say?" Astoria's enhanced hearing naturally caught his whispered observation.
"Where do you think Fiendfyre comes from originally?" Aiden asked instead of answering directly, posing the question like a teaching riddle. "That flame that's impossible to extinguish and spreads automatically through any available fuel?"
"Fiendfyre, devil's flame, hellfire," Astoria repeated thoughtfully, her analytical mind working through the implications.
After several moments of contemplation, understanding dawned across her features. "The Deep Realm King. Hell itself!"
"Precisely. This scarred ground represents proof that past generations of wizards successfully defeated them in direct combat," Aiden nodded approvingly.
"That's truly remarkable," Astoria said with genuine admiration for their ancestors' courage.
"Unfortunately, this particular magical fire was also originally created by those same entities," Aiden observed with dry irony.
The pair carefully navigated through the cemetery grounds toward a small, innocuous house nearby. Both dragons immediately retreated into the hidden corners of consciousness, allowing their human facades to take complete control.
The area surrounding the modest structure seemed to pulse with numerous powerful dark magic traps, their malevolent energy crackling just beneath the visible surface.
Aiden lightly tapped the frozen ground with his wand, and white rings of pure light spread outward like ripples on a pond. The expanding magical force directly paralysed every single trap in the immediate vicinity.
Sudden commotion erupted from inside the house as space itself began folding and twisting, someone attempting emergency Apparition.
But with a sharp bang that echoed across the cemetery, the fleeing occupant was violently bounced back by powerful anti-Apparition wards that had been quietly established around the perimeter.
Astoria followed Aiden as they burst through the front door with coordinated precision, and Bellatrix Lestrange's wild figure immediately appeared before them like a cornered animal.
Aiden released his wand, which began floating autonomously in the air while countless silver-white chains erupted from nowhere to completely seal the house from any outside interference.
The two dragons hiding within their consciousness finally revealed their true nature, their combined presence filling the cramped space with overwhelming supernatural authority.
"So it's you two!" Bellatrix snarled, having obviously obtained sufficient intelligence about their activities from external sources.
"You pureblood traitors and blood betrayers!" Bella raised her wand with manic fury, sickly green light beginning to flicker around the tip.
"Avada Kedavra!" The Killing Curse erupted from her wand like a lance of pure death.
Aiden's figure, struck directly by the lethal spell, dispersed harmlessly like smoke in a gentle breeze. A slender finger emerged from the shifting shadows and touched her wand with casual indifference.
Instantly, Bellatrix felt all her magical power seemingly draining away like water through a broken vessel.
"This is absolutely impossible!" she screamed with genuine madness, her voice cracking under the psychological strain.
"You're now completely Muggle," the gentle youth's voice whispered directly in her ear with deadly softness. "Think carefully about how your beloved master will react when he learns this devastating news."
Suddenly, Voldemort's terrifying face materialised before her with perfect, horrifying clarity.
'I'm sorry, my dear Bella, but you're no longer a witch. You've become useless to me.' Then Sister Tom's beautiful but cold face turned away dismissively, abandoning her most faithful servant.
"No, no, this can't be happening!" Bellatrix collapsed to the floor, curling into a fetal position while wailing like a lost soul.
In actual reality, the two dragons sat comfortably on a conjured sofa, watching the scene unfold before them with detached professional interest.
"That's absolutely terrifying," Astoria observed with a mixture of admiration and concern. "Exploring psychological weaknesses and weaving targeted dreams to make opponents sink into their own worst nightmares?"
"It's reasonably effective. I simply wove together some of her most painful memories and fears," Aiden replied with casual understatement. "If I really wanted to permanently damage her psyche, I could use memories of actual death and dying. Make her heart produce massive quantities of negative energy, artificially catalysing the formation of an Obscurial."
As if summoned by his words, black particles began emerging from Bella's prone form on the floor, swirling around her like manifestations of pure despair.
Astoria's teasing gaze turned toward him, her eyes meaningfully glancing sideways toward Bella's increasingly unstable condition.
Aiden (´;ω;`)