Chapter 398: Conflict, Fear, and Departure
Dozens of Wizards still bustled across the island, repairing the wreckage. Collapsed buildings floated back into place, and buried items were carefully unearthed one by one. Piles of documents, mechanical devices, and medical supplies formed a chaotic heap in the open field. To sort through this mess, half of Britain’s Ministry of Magic’s clerical staff had been dispatched, and even additional personnel had been borrowed from neighboring magical governments.
Thanks to Dumbledore’s intervention, the American Ministry of Magic was excluded from the operation—though several African nations had stepped in. After all, the island’s dungeon held over a dozen children from Africa. The number of others buried beneath the ruins remained unknown.
Among the relatively intact structures, some were converted into interrogation chambers. Veritaserum, approved under special circumstances by the Wizengamot Court, was used to extract truth from the Muggle soldiers. Under its influence, they offered up every scrap of knowledge they possessed—without resistance.
But the rank-and-file soldiers knew very little. Their information was largely useless. The true masterminds behind the secrets had all died.
Fudge had no patience for lingering on this desolate, unproductive island. He had bigger projects to manage—especially the construction of the Quidditch World Cup stadium, which ranked as his top priority. To him, every other incident could wait.
Yes, Muggles who coveted Wizard magic were dangerous—but Fudge believed someone else would handle it. Dumbledore, for instance. Or the magical ministries of other countries.
After all, of the children kidnapped to this island, only a handful were born in Britain. The majority came from America, Australia, Southern Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. To Fudge, this was never his responsibility.
Had Dumbledore not stepped in first, and had the initial contact not been made with Britain’s Ministry, Fudge would have sent just a few friendly observers—no more. Let future ministers deal with future troubles. Fudge cared only about whether Britain’s magical world remained peaceful during his tenure—and whether he could leave behind a strong, impressive record.
Not long after, under Fudge’s persistent push, most Ministry officials had already begun preparations to return to Britain, despite unfinished follow-up tasks. Accompanying them were dozens of children whose fates remained unaccounted for, along with The Silent One—Mabel.
To transport the children, the Ministry had requisitioned a nearby cruise ship. The white vessel glided across the endless sea like a giant whale.
Inside one of its cabins, a heated argument erupted.
Fudge’s voice, sharp and rising, cut through the air:
“Dumbledore! Dumbledore—you can’t keep doing this!”
Fudge said, uneasy: “You can’t seriously be thinking of sending that Silent Shadow to school. Are you completely out of your mind?”
“—Silent Shadow, The Silent One—aren’t they the same thing? Picking apart the names is pointless. Honestly, you know what I’m worried about. We have to think about the students’ safety!”
“Ah… of course… of course… I know you’ve got your reasons, Dumbledore. I know you’ll do your best to protect the students…”
“But look at them! Look at those poor Muggles out there—what have they become?”
“Oh, whether they’re pitiful or not doesn’t matter. They committed crimes. I know they harmed that young lady. I know you’ve said it three times already. But the harm The Silent One caused isn’t imaginary either!”
“The students in the school haven’t even learned to defend themselves like those Muggles did! Putting The Silent One in there is like letting a hungry wolf among the sheep!”
“I’m not questioning your ability, Dumbledore. But by duty, I must oppose letting such a creature into the school. That’s the bare minimum. She’s pitiful, yes—but that doesn’t mean the others should pay the price.”
“And what about the other magical children? We can’t just let them go home freely. What if one of them is a potential Silent One?”
“I believe The Silent One should be executed immediately. It’s best for everyone. I know the injured people on the island feel the same way.”
“As for the others—Haley, and the rest—keep them in the dungeon for observation. Not forever. Just long enough to calm the public. It’s a safety measure.”
“How long? How long will that take? We can’t say. We must be certain there’s no danger. I’ve heard The Silent One won’t live much longer—but at least three or five years are necessary.”
…
Mabel clutched Haley tightly, both girls curled up on a sofa. Around them stood several Wizards, their faces blank, expressions solemn. They wore black robes—so similar to the island’s cloaked soldiers that the girls couldn’t help but shiver.
Their eyes—guarded, contemptuous, fearful—spoke the same unspoken truth: They shouldn’t exist.
For days, Mabel had stayed close to Dumbledore. When he was occupied, a plump witch named Professor Sprout had looked after them. Gentle, warm, always smiling, she cared for them with motherly devotion, slowly easing their fears and filling them with dreams of Hogwarts.
But today, Professor Sprout had been abruptly removed. In her place came Ministry Aurors—men and women who wore the same black robes, who spoke with cold authority, and whose faces never softened.
From that moment on, no smile had been seen.
And now, this argument—this brutal, soul-crushing clash—pulled them fully into reality.
Fudge’s voice, thin and sharp through the thin wooden door, echoed into their ears.
Dumbledore fought for them. He promised Mabel would never harm anyone. He swore he would protect the students. He said the situation wasn’t Mabel’s fault. As adults, they should give children a chance to grow. They deserved a future.
He offered his own reputation as a guarantee. He would take full responsibility.
Tears welled in Mabel’s eyes. But Fudge’s cold, unwavering tone chilled her heart.
That man—soft-spoken, almost meek—spoke with absolute certainty. He insisted on killing Mabel. He demanded the others be imprisoned for years.
If that were the rule, even an innocent child might become a monster out of desperation.
And yet, every word Fudge spoke was cloaked in duty, in public interest, in authority—making Dumbledore’s compassion seem reckless, selfish.
Finally, Fudge said, “How about this, Dumbledore? Let’s call a meeting of the Hogwarts Board of Directors. My single opinion doesn’t matter. But if all twelve directors agree with you, then I’ll accept it.”
He paused, then added with a smirk: “Though I doubt they’d support it. If they knew what you were planning, they’d probably want you removed from the school. Firing you, so you don’t bring a werewolf, a vampire, or even a giant into the castle next time.”
Dumbledore fell silent. He stared at Fudge—deeply, quietly.
Fudge knew he had finally found the one thing that could truly stop Dumbledore. A smirk tugged at his lips, but he quickly masked it. He resumed his worried, public-spirited expression, portraying Dumbledore’s plan as reckless, dangerous, utterly unacceptable.
After being silenced by this old man for so long, Fudge finally stood on the moral high ground. He couldn’t help but feel a smug satisfaction—mocking, almost playful—hinting that Dumbledore was growing senile, while he was the one truly sacrificing for the future of magic.
Fudge didn’t care if the two girls heard him. He wasn’t afraid of The Silent One. After all, Dumbledore was right there. If Dumbledore let her harm anyone, then Dumbledore wasn’t the man he claimed to be.
With the world’s strongest protector beside him, Fudge even hoped Mabel would unleash her power and attack him—just to prove how clearly right he was.
Haley clung to Mabel, trembling with fear, her mind drowning in the terror of an unknown fate.
Mabel covered her sister’s ears, her eyes fixed on the window.
The sea stretched endlessly, azure and vast. A few dolphins swam alongside the ship, leaping from the waves, arcing through the air in graceful arcs.
From the deck, someone—likely a Ministry clerk, no older than Mabel—shouted in delight. Their wand, thin as a twig, waved through the air. With a flick, a stone the size of a small car floated effortlessly into the sky.
Mabel thought of Wade—her friend, the boy who’d flown with her on a broomstick to save Haley. That boy, just her age, could transform a tiny insect into a monstrous beast.
And then? The researchers who once made her shudder with fear—men in lab coats—had been torn apart without a chance to escape.
She remembered the moment she became The Silent One. The Black-Cloaked Soldiers. The powerful Wizards. All of them—frozen in panic, powerless.
Now, these Aurors—the ones treating her like a criminal—would they look at her the same way if she were not Mabel, but The Silent One?
Even Fudge—when the dark mist nearly swallowed him—had looked ready to soil himself. Not like the man shouting now.
Though she’d never studied magic, Mabel suddenly understood, with perfect clarity:
Fear comes from weakness.
When she was defenseless, when she surrendered her fate to others, they didn’t care about her pain, her suffering, her reasons. Most people acted like Fudge—thinking only of their own interests.
But only when she wielded the power to destroy everything could she claim control over her own life. Only then could she protect Haley… Ziq… and all the other children—so they wouldn’t have to jump from one abyss into another.
But that meant Dumbledore’s efforts would be wasted. She’d lose her chance to go to Hogwarts.
Then—Haley suddenly felt a chill at the back of her neck.
She looked up, startled.
Mabel was crying—silent, silent tears streaming down her face.
“Mabel?!” Haley gasped, scrambling to wipe her tears. “Don’t be scared! My mom says when people die, they become stars. Then we’ll be together in the sky—forever, never apart!”
“I’m sorry… Haley…” Mabel choked, pulling her close, whispering in her ear. “We’re going to have to part… but no matter where I am, I’ll always protect you.”
Haley’s eyes widened. She struggled, trying to see Mabel’s face—but she was held too tightly.
Then—she was suddenly shoved backward. She flew through the air, crashing into a light-haired Auror.
“What’s going on?” The Auror caught her, stunned.
At that moment, Mabel’s eyes had turned pure white. Her body convulsed. Black smoke curled from her skin.
A piercing alarm blared.
Spells shot toward her—bright beams of light—but they struck only the sofa and the wall.
The girl was gone.
In an instant, she became a swirling black fog—then burst through the window and vanished into the clouds.
Dumbledore and Fudge burst into the room—too late.
Only black smoke remained, vanishing into the mist.
“She… she… she escaped, Dumbledore!” Fudge stammered, panicked. “How could you let her go?”
Dumbledore paused. Then, with a tired, wry smile: “Yes. She escaped. She was so well-behaved before… why did she run now, Cornelius?”
Fudge’s face darkened. He could only stutter in silence.
Then, he turned on the Aurors. “You! You were supposed to stop her!”
The Aurors were speechless. This was their first encounter with The Silent One. They’d assumed, with their magic, subduing a child who’d never studied spells would be easy. Who knew the transformation would happen so fast?
Inside, they cursed Fudge—Why did you have to argue right here, in front of them?
But Fudge was their superior. They bowed their heads, accepting the blame, calling themselves useless.
After ranting, Fudge dashed off to speak with Rufus Scrimgeour—how to catch the escaped Silent One.
Outside the room, Professor Sprout stood, watching Fudge leave. Then she stepped inside.
“Please,” she said to Kingsley Shakle, who still held Haley, “let me take this child. She has no magic. She’s just an ordinary girl.”
Kingsley blinked. Then, wordlessly, he handed Haley to her.
The girl fell into the familiar, warm embrace—then burst into tears.
The other Aurors exchanged awkward glances and quietly left. Kingsley lingered at the door.
Dumbledore comforted Haley for a moment, then gave quiet instructions to Professor Sprout before stepping out.
He found Kingsley waiting quietly in the hallway.
“Dumbledore,” Kingsley said, his voice serious. “Can I talk to you?”
Seeing the man’s solemn expression—so unlike the chaos of the past hours—Dumbledore finally managed a small, weary smile.
“Of course.”
(End of Chapter)
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