Just as Theodore was about to leave, his steps suddenly halted.
His Microscopic Heavenly Eye swept across the sky in the distance and picked out another furtive figure approaching on a broomstick.
With only a single glance, Theodore could already tell the newcomer was a dark wizard.
After all, what sort of decent person wore a hood in broad daylight?
Theodore frowned.
Dealing with one dark wizard would be easy.
The real annoyance was that there was no telling how many more would come afterward.
From what the werewolves had said earlier, he and the others had been placed under an absurdly high bounty on the black market.
Which meant that, from now on, they might be hounded by dark wizards again and again.
Like flies. Like mosquitoes.
Maybe their bites would not truly hurt—but the constant buzzing alone was enough to make anyone sick of them.
The best solution would be to leave such a terrifying impression that every dark wizard who heard their names would instinctively stay as far away as possible.
A moment later, a flash of inspiration passed through Theodore's mind.
His eyes lit up.
Then a strange smile slowly curled at the corner of his mouth.
"The Eight-Nine Mystical Art—transform."
…
Outside Theodore's manor, a hooded figure crept through the woods, peering toward the estate through a magical telescope.
Greed burned in the dark wizard's eyes.
A few little wizards, yet the bounty on their heads was sky-high—and they were staying in a Muggle manor of all places.
Were these not fat lambs delivered straight to the knife?
As for the Muggle security guards around the grounds, a single spell would be enough to leave them stumbling around in a daze.
He truly had luck on his side.
And just as the dark wizard was beginning to imagine the kind of life he would lead after collecting the reward, he suddenly saw a figure inside the manor that made his eyes bulge.
"Scrimgeour?"
"That foul rock from the latrine—what's he doing here?!"
Among dark wizards, Rufus Scrimgeour's reputation was dreadful in the worst possible way. He had always been infamous for taking an uncompromising line against dark wizards.
Especially after the Gringotts incident, when he had nearly led the Aurors in sweeping through every gathering place used by dark wizards just to find whoever had attacked the bank.
For the last two months, dark wizards across Britain had been living miserably.
Otherwise, the bounty would never have attracted so many of them in the first place.
Now, seeing Scrimgeour's face inside the manor, the dark wizard's heart lurched and his pupils shrank violently.
Before he could even make sense of it, he saw Scrimgeour walk into one of the rooms in the estate.
Not long after Scrimgeour entered, another figure emerged.
The moment the dark wizard saw him, a chill ran straight through his scalp.
"What the hell?"
"Mad-Eye Moody?!"
"Wasn't he supposed to be practically retired? What's he doing here too?"
Then Moody seemed to remember something and hurried back into the room.
And in that brief moment when the door opened, the dark wizard caught a glimpse of what lay inside.
Seeing Scrimgeour and Mad-Eye Moody in this manor was already shocking enough.
But what truly rattled him was the sight of a white-bearded old man everyone in magical Britain would recognize instantly.
"Albus Dumbledore?!"
Standing beside Dumbledore was another elderly figure, equally old, talking and laughing with him.
At first, the dark wizard felt that the second old man looked strangely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.
Then his eyes landed on the symbol pinned to the man's chest—
and the meaning struck him like lightning.
"Gellert Grindelwald?!"
At that point, his scalp truly went numb.
A tiny Muggle manor.
And yet what sort of dragon's den was this?!
The first Dark Lord.
The White Lord.
Top-tier Aurors.
All gathered together in the same small room.
What in Merlin's name were they planning?
"A conspiracy!"
"This is a conspiracy aimed at every dark wizard in Britain!"
In an instant, all the thoughts in his head connected.
"Of course! Scrimgeour and the Aurors already know they've made life unbearable for dark wizards."
"So now they've deliberately arranged these ridiculous bounties on a few children just to lure all of us out."
"The moment we make a move, they'll swoop in all at once and wipe every dark wizard in Britain off the map."
"Damn it—even Grindelwald has been dragged out of Nurmengard. That just shows how determined they are to purge us!"
"Run. I have to run. I have to warn everyone!"
After that, the dark wizard did not even dare get back on his broom.
He turned and sprinted through the trees instead.
Before long, he saw an open patch of ground ahead.
There, one after another, werewolf heads had been arranged in a grim display, while several Aurors were digging pits nearby, seemingly preparing to bury the bodies.
The dark wizard was so frightened his soul nearly left his body.
He immediately leapt onto his broom and fled without daring to look back.
Not long after, he burst into the pub in Knockturn Alley, staggering through the door and relaying the horrifying news to the dark wizards gathered inside.
"It's too terrifying. Far too terrifying."
"Fenrir Greyback—and all the werewolves under him—are dead! Every last one of them! Their heads were cut off!"
"Dumbledore—and bloody Grindelwald—are lying in wait!"
"The bounty is a trap. A complete trap!"
The dark wizards who had gathered because of the bounty all paled in shock.
"They're making that kind of move just to deal with us?"
"I think I heard that there was a great fire at Hogwarts not long ago—and not an ordinary one either, but Fiendfyre of terrifying strength."
"There are even rumors that some people believe that person has returned. Could it be that all this wasn't prepared for us at all? Maybe we're just a few unlucky fish that swam into the net by mistake."
Cold sweat began to form on their foreheads.
Then, one after another, their expressions twisted into fury.
"Damn it! The one who came to post the bounty must be a Ministry plant!"
"That's vicious! They're trying to get us all killed!"
"But since no one's been arrested yet, that means they don't have hard evidence. We need to be careful. We can't let that bastard get anything on us."
"We're clean."
"We're cleaner than white wizards."
At that moment, Quirrell—afflicted by his "curse" and desperate beyond words to see Theodore dead—had become more impatient than ever.
He had waited in the castle for ages with no news.
Finally, gritting his teeth, he found an excuse to leave Hogwarts and once again made his way to the pub in Knockturn Alley, intending to raise the bounty.
"Most of the dark wizards still haven't acted. They're all watching and waiting."
"I need to make them move."
"Raise the reward. Their lives are already miserable. Add more money, and they'll definitely bite."
But the moment Quirrell entered Knockturn Alley, he felt something was wrong.
Why were the peddlers on both sides of the street staring at him?
And what in the world were they selling?
The Complete Guide to Defensive Magic?
One Hundred Ways to Resist Dark Wizards?
And that vendor over there—hadn't he specialized in selling body parts before? Why was he displaying lollipops now?
What in the world had happened to Knockturn Alley?!
Quirrell pushed open the pub door in confusion, walked to the counter, and said in a low voice to the owner,
"That bounty. I want to increase it."
The landlord instantly raised his voice and said loudly,
"A bounty?"
"What bounty?"
"We are a lawful establishment here. A century-old family business. We have never broken the law, never disturbed the peace, and have always firmly supported the leadership of the Ministry. We stand unwaveringly on the side of light and justice!"
The dark wizards throughout the pub reacted as though someone had thrown open the floodgates.
At once, the room erupted.
"My friend, take a piece of advice from me—step back and the sea is wide. Why must everything be settled with a bounty? Once you take a wrong step, it's very hard to turn back. Listen to me. Let it go."
"That's right. Turn over a new leaf. Be a good wizard. All of us here are people with experience—we can help you."
"We must use magic in an orderly way, follow the Ministry's rules and regulations, and also read Dumbledore quotations every day. Love, you understand? Love is the strongest magic."
"If you're looking for the sort of wizard who'd kill for a bounty, then I can only tell you this: there's no one like that in Knockturn Alley. Absolutely no one here would ever harm little wizards. We are compassionate wizards. Good wizards!"
Then, in eerie unison, the dark wizards all pointed toward a mural painted on one wall of the pub.
"Art is the window to the soul. Look at the collective work we created. We're good people!"
Quirrell turned blankly to look at the mural.
And in the next instant, his face went white with fury.
Why in the name of Merlin was there a giant portrait of Dumbledore painted on the wall of a pub in Knockturn Alley?!
Forget Quirrell.
Even Voldemort, at that moment, could no longer bear it.
He actually stirred awake from the back of Quirrell's head and burst out:
"No, really—how many years has it even been?"
"How did dark wizards end up like this?!"
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