"Giant spiders—and such enormous ones at that. I dare guarantee you would have a hard time finding a second collection like this in the entire magical world," Gins said with a light laugh, his eyes gleaming with avarice.
"As long as it is valuable," one of the newcomers muttered, glancing at Aragog's corpse with barely concealed greed.
"Mr Gins! What is the meaning of this?" Borgin's face turned ashen as he demanded answers, his voice sharp with betrayal.
Dudley's eyes narrowed beneath his hood. The moment he had sensed the Apparition, he had already prepared to act.
"Borgin, you should not have set the transaction location in this forsaken place," Gins said coldly, his wand steady. "If it were in Knockturn Alley, I would still fear you. But here? You pose no threat to me."
He turned his gaze to Dudley, his smile widening with cruel satisfaction. "And you, Mr Justiciar—I am very sorry, but these giant spider corpses are now mine."
These treasures could sell for a fortune. Even split four ways, they would each profit handsomely—their most valuable haul in years.
"Mr Gins, do you really want to do this? Are you certain you can bear the consequences?" Borgin's voice was ice itself.
"Oh, I am quite certain," Gins replied smoothly.
They had the numbers, the element of surprise, and three wands trained on their targets. The slightest move from either Dudley or Borgin would be met with a barrage of spells.
"Macken, check that Justiciar. He should have some kind of spatial magical item on him. There might be other valuables inside," Gins ordered the tall, thin wizard.
"A spatial magical item?" Macken's eyes lit up with greed as he stalked toward Dudley.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has a secret passage leading to the Shrieking Shack," Dudley said suddenly, his voice calm and measured. "Therefore, the Shrieking Shack is also part of Hogwarts."
The statement hung in the air, met with confused silence.
"What?" Gins frowned, momentarily thrown off balance.
What was this absurd declaration supposed to accomplish? Make them afraid? They were already committing robbery—why would invoking Hogwarts stop them now?
Even Borgin glanced at Dudley with confusion. He knew Dudley was a Hogwarts student, but even if he were Dumbledore's own blood, saying so now would not help. These were desperate men who would not care whom they were robbing.
"Idiot. Is there something wrong with your brain?" Macken sneered, moving closer.
Dudley's face beneath his hood remained utterly calm, his eyes sharp with purpose. Only he understood the true meaning behind those words.
As he spoke them, he felt the Shrieking Shack shift subtly—becoming more familiar, more his. His extraordinary abilities strengthened here, flowing through the connection he had just amplified.
As Judge of Hogwarts, Dudley held power within his territory—but the Shrieking Shack had not been included. Until now. By speaking the connection into existence, by declaring the magical link between the secret passage and this building, he had extended his domain. Not creating something from nothing, but reinforcing what already existed—well within the bounds of rules and order.
His eyes swept the room with predatory precision. Gins stood beside Aragog's corpse, wand in hand but not aimed. Macken approached with his wand levelled at Dudley's chest. Of the other two, one targeted Borgin, while the fourth alternated between them, ready to shift his focus at any moment.
Everything was in place.
"Exile!" Dudley spoke in Hermes, the ancient language resonating with power.
Tremendous force erupted from nowhere, seizing Macken like a giant's fist. The wizard flew backward with brutal speed, slamming into the far wall with a sickening crack.
"Imprison!"
Dudley's gaze locked onto the wizard who had been alternating his aim. He thrust his hand forward, and the air itself thickened into viscous, transparent amber. The spell crystallised around the man, freezing him completely—body and spirit trapped within an impenetrable prison.
In two heartbeats, Dudley had eliminated two opponents.
Swoosh!
He launched himself sideways, muscles coiled and explosive. He could not be certain whether Borgin was truly victim or accomplice in this ambush—distance was the wisest choice.
"What is happening?" Gins finally registered the catastrophe unfolding before him. His face drained of colour as he jerked his wand toward Dudley.
"Whip!"
Crack!
An invisible lash of pure force struck with vicious precision. Gins's shoulder erupted in a spray of crimson as flesh tore open, his arm nearly severed at the joint. The wand spun from his mangled hand, clattering uselessly across the floor.
"Ahhhhh!" His scream echoed through the basement, raw and desperate.
Only one remained—the wizard who had kept his wand trained on Borgin. Operating on pure instinct, he cast without thinking.
"Confringo!"
The explosive curse rocketed toward Borgin, orange light crackling with destructive energy.
But just as the spell was about to connect, a pocket watch flew from Borgin's breast pocket, springing open mid-flight.
Bang!
Black light erupted from the timepiece, transforming into a spectral crow that swallowed the curse whole before dissipating into nothingness. The pocket watch fell dark and lifeless to the floor, its purpose fulfilled.
The magical defence bought Borgin the heartbeat he needed. His wand was already moving.
"Reducto!" he snarled.
"Protego!" the other wizard countered desperately.
The battle erupted between them—spells colliding, shields flaring, the air itself screaming with magical violence. Coloured lights strobed through the darkness as curse met countercurse in rapid succession.
Dudley ignored their duel. His attention fixed on Macken, who was dragging himself upright against the wall, dazed but conscious. The wizard's eyes widened with dawning horror as he took in the devastation.
Gins lay crumpled and bleeding, his arm ruined. Another wizard stood frozen like an insect in amber, face locked in terror. In mere seconds, their ambush had become a massacre.
"Judgement—Death!"
Dudley spoke the words with terrible finality. He surged forward, fist clenched, his body merging with otherworldly power. Afterimages trailed behind him as he closed the distance.
Under the authority of Judgement, this strike was absolute. Unavoidable. Inevitable.
Macken raised his wand in futile defence, lips forming a spell that would never be spoken—
The blow landed like divine retribution.