Foscoe's face was struck with shock.
"Glastonbury? How did I Apparate here?" he muttered under his breath.
But Edward's expression remained skeptical.
Foscoe's reaction and explanation seemed plausible enough—after all, wizards could easily mess up Apparition if they were distracted, sometimes even causing Splinching, where parts of the body get mangled by twisted space.
Still, none of this could be verified, and Edward's Veritas Charm wasn't strong enough to tell if Foscoe was being honest or not.
Based on what Edward knew about Foscoe and his reputation in the wizarding world, though, even if he was hiding something, it was unlikely he'd come to Glastonbury with any sinister intent.
After all, there was nothing here but ruins and a pitifully small graveyard. King Arthur's remains weren't even buried here, let alone the fabled Excalibur.
Edward knew this better than anyone, but he still had questions.
"Mr. Foscoe, what if it wasn't me here today but a Muggle?" he pressed.
"A Muggle? Oh, that's easy. A quick Obliviate or Confundus Charm would do the trick. I'm quite good at those. Maybe toss in an ice cream as compensation!" Foscoe replied nonchalantly.
"Oh, speaking of which, as thanks for saving me, you get a fifty percent discount at my shop from now on! No, make it sixty percent!" he added generously.
Edward couldn't help but chuckle.
Foscoe wasn't the first wizard he'd met who treated the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy like a suggestion. It sounded like he'd done this sort of thing plenty of times before.
The wizarding world's lax enforcement was practically legendary.
Compared to the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, the Statute was often enforced even less strictly.
But Edward didn't mind Foscoe's attitude. Sure, he was a bit cavalier about the rules, but he was warm, kind, and generous.
Sixty percent off, just like that.
Before Edward could say more, Foscoe glanced around and mused, "Glastonbury, huh? Haven't been here in years. Such a shame—a grand abbey like this, and even the strongest Reparo Charm can't fix it."
"I recall your family lives nearby, don't they? Is this a bit of a homecoming for you?"
Edward was surprised to hear Foscoe bring this up.
The destruction of Glastonbury Abbey due to a magical surge wasn't exactly a secret, but as time passed, fewer and fewer wizards knew about it.
From the sound of it, Foscoe even knew about the Bedivere family's historical role as guardians of the tomb.
"Something like that," Edward said vaguely before asking, "Mr. Foscoe, if I may, how do you know about my family's connection to the abbey?"
"Kid, this might sound odd, but back at Hogwarts, my best subject was History of Magic!" Foscoe said, puffing out his chest proudly.
"King Arthur, Merlin, Avalon, Excalibur, your ancestor Sir Bedivere, and Morgan le Fay—what fascinating legends, right?"
"They say this place might even be the entrance to Avalon, the legendary realm. Shame no wizard has ever claimed to find it," he said, his eyes gleaming with longing. "Or maybe they found it and didn't want to come back, eh?"
"Since we're here by chance, we ought to pay our respects with some flowers. This was our nation's king, after all!"
With that, Foscoe strode toward King Arthur's tomb.
Edward followed closely, wanting to honor the great king as well.
Why hadn't he thought of offering flowers? King Arthur, the greatest of knights, Britain's once and future king!
At Arthur's simple grave, Foscoe waved his wand, conjuring a circular wreath that floated gently onto the tomb.
He cleared his throat, clearly about to say something meaningful.
But before he could speak, he shouted a spell instead.
"Protego!"
Two invisible barriers sprang up around Foscoe and Edward, deflecting four streaks of red light.
"Nice reflexes, kid!"
"You too, Mr. Foscoe."
Edward and Foscoe had cast Shield Charms on each other almost simultaneously.
The attack came out of nowhere, without warning, striking just when they were at their most relaxed.
Though their reactions were quick, the attackers weren't deterred.
No one was visible, but beams of light kept coming relentlessly.
"Revelio!"
Taking advantage of Foscoe's strong Protego, Edward cast a wave of magic from his wand, revealing four hooded figures lurking in the shadows.
The Revealing Charm gave them a slight edge, though they were still outnumbered.
The four figures paused briefly but didn't stop casting.
White and red lights shot toward them, crashing against the Shield Charms with deafening cracks.
"Mr. Foscoe! Your ice cream business must be too good! Are these angry customers with food poisoning?" Edward quipped.
"Kid! You're joking at a time like this? Stay behind me—I'll get you out of here!" Foscoe grumbled at Edward's ill-timed humor but kept shielding him with Protego.
"No chance of escaping yet. We need to take at least one down. Can you hold off the other three? I'll deal with the one on the far left as fast as I can!" Edward focused entirely on the leftmost hooded wizard.
"I don't know what you're planning, but you've got thirty seconds!" Foscoe roared, swinging his wand forcefully.
The three hooded figures were pushed back as if hit by a wall, forced to retreat.
This gave Edward a brief one-on-one opportunity.
He took a deep breath and shot forward like an arrow, his sapphire sword already in hand.
His second-tier breathing technique boosted his speed to new heights, covering thirty meters in the blink of an eye.
The opponent's spell grazed his cheek, blasting a nearby snow pile into a flurry.
Edward's green magical sword swept toward the wizard's waist.
He was certain this strike would land—wizards were notoriously bad at close combat.
Clang!
The green blade struck the wizard's waist, but it didn't have the effect Edward expected.
The wizard was merely knocked back a few meters, kneeling shakily but not unconscious like Flint and his goons.
Edward didn't falter. His focus shifted to the torn robe, where dark, gleaming metal reflected the snow's light.
This guy was wearing some kind of enchanted armor!