Chapter 418: Escape
“Sir, if we can’t get close to the Water tank, can we cast a Detection Spell from a distance?” Kingsley leaned toward Rufus Scrimgeour, whispering: “It’s likely the only place where any noticeable traces would remain. We need to conduct a full examination.”
Before Rufus could respond, Bode shook his head firmly. “No, no… casting a spell would disturb them.”
Kingsley frowned. “But—”
“Kingsley,” Rufus Scrimgeour cut him off. “Not approaching these things is also about protecting you. Stick to testing the outer areas.”
“…Yes, sir.” Kingsley nodded.
He cast the spell. Though Rufus had brought some of the Ministry’s finest Aurors to assist, he didn’t seem particularly concerned about securing a conclusive result.
In truth, their search area was severely limited—only a narrow stretch from the Brain Chamber out to the circular antechamber. Both rooms were empty. The intruder had cleaned up the evidence with meticulous precision. The inspection concluded quickly.
Beyond the Department of Mysteries, the corridor led directly to the underground Tenth Trial Chamber.
Recently, the Ministry had begun re-examining several long-ignored cases with procedural irregularities. With frequent arrests of smugglers, thieves, and violators of the Confidentiality Act, even the forgotten Tenth Trial Chamber had been reopened.
On the day the Department was breached, the Tenth Chamber was in session, handling a high-profile case involving two prominent figures from the magical world. As a result, the area had been bustling with wizards and witches moving in and out.
Though everyone knew the intruder had taken advantage of the chaos, the sheer number of people and the overlapping timelines made it impossible to pinpoint the suspect’s identity.
The Aurors completed their task swiftly. The final outcome? Nothing.
Bode didn’t seem surprised. He frowned, his face drawn in worry, and gave a distracted nod. Then he stared at the floating brains inside the Water tank, lost in thought.
Ping—
The elevator chimed again. A brown-haired man in simple clothes hurried in, cradling a wooden box. Upon seeing so many people in the Brain Chamber, he froze in place.
Bode instantly came to life. He rushed forward, voice lowered. “Did you get it?”
The man nodded.
A flicker of relief crossed Bode’s face. He turned to Rufus Scrimgeour and the others. “Thank you, Mr. Scrimgeour. Since the investigation is complete, you may depart now.”
Rufus Scrimgeour’s sharp gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment.
“Let’s go,” he said, turning sharply and walking out. The Aurors followed in quick succession.
As they exited the circular hall, the black door behind them slammed shut immediately.
“What’s going on?” one of the younger Aurors muttered, frustrated. “Weird—no one likes these home folks. Are The Silent Ones all just oddballs?”
“Enough,” someone said. “Let’s go.”
They rode the elevator up to the second floor of the Ministry of Magic—the Auror Command Center. Unlike the dim, oppressive underground, this level was bathed in sunlight, vibrant and bustling.
The Aurors filed back into their small compartments, diving straight into their busy duties. The investigation in the Department of Mysteries had been sealed under strict confidentiality agreements—no one was allowed to speak of it.
Kingsley lingered slightly behind. Once the others had left, he turned to Rufus Scrimgeour. “Sir… do you know who the intruder was?”
Rufus narrowed his eyes. “You doubt me?”
Kingsley offered a polite smile, but said nothing.
Rufus shifted his gaze away. “When I first entered the Department of Mysteries, my superior told me something. I pass it on to you now:”
“Never investigate it. Never approach it. Never covet it.”
“Anyone who tries to use that place for personal gain will only bring ruin upon themselves.”
With that, Rufus Scrimgeour departed. Kingsley remained silent, turning the words over in his mind.
No wisdom emerges from thin air. Every warning is forged in blood and tragedy. That was why, beyond the selfless few who serve in silence, most wizards avoid the Department of Mysteries like the plague.
Now, Kingsley wondered—did the intruder know this?
If he did… why risk it?
…
Watching the last Auror leave, Bode slammed the door shut with a heavy thud. Then he pulled his companion toward the Brain Chamber.
He reached for the wooden box, hesitated, then asked again: “You didn’t open it, did you? You didn’t look inside?”
“No,” the brown-haired wizard said. “Since I took it from Vault 716, I’ve held it tightly. Never opened it. Never let anyone else touch it.”
“Good,” Bode exhaled, visibly relieved.
Carefully, they opened the box. Inside lay several black seeds. As they were exposed to air, their color began to shift—faintly, then steadily, turning crimson.
The two wizards worked together, prying up a few slabs of marble flooring. Then, with their bare hands, they buried the seeds deep into the earth. When they poured the final handful of soil, the seeds had turned a glaring, unmistakable red.
They replaced the tiles, restoring everything to its original state. Bode wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“That’s it,” he said. “Done.”
The brown-haired wizard looked uneasy. “Do you really think the intruder will come back?”
“Of course,” Bode sighed. “Greed is the original sin. No matter what he took from here, he’ll return for more.”
…
Mabel wrapped her cloak tightly around herself, huddled in a shadowed corner, fighting the urge to run. Her eyes darted across the street, scanning the crowd.
Earlier, she’d followed Ryan Troke quietly into Diagon Alley. She knew he’d be buying textbooks—she’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the young wizard who had saved them all.
But she hadn’t expected this.
The alley teemed with people—packed shoulder-to-shoulder, a sea of black robes. Most wizards wore the same dark robes, with only subtle differences in trim. At a glance, they all looked identical. Height, build, even expression—everything blurred into a single, faceless mass.
Mabel had grown up in the Dungeon. After escaping, she’d stayed in remote, isolated places. She’d never seen such a dense, chaotic crowd. Even with her immense and terrifying power, she felt overwhelmed—fearful, disoriented.
In her panic, she lost track of Troke completely. She was utterly lost.
Like a chick abandoned by its parents, she stood frozen in the middle of the street, trembling. Only when she pressed herself against a wall did she find a moment of calm.
She leaned against the wall, catching her breath. Then, as she turned her head, she saw it—her own black-and-white photograph, pinned to the wall.
A wanted poster.
“Hey, kid!” a shop assistant called out, stepping forward with concern. “Are you unwell? Can I help you with anything?”
Mabel flinched. She couldn’t let him see her face. She yanked her hood down and bolted.
She ran blindly for what felt like forever, only stopping when she was certain no one was chasing her. She ducked into a shadowed alcove, watching from afar.
Her body was weak. The run left her chest aching as if it would burst. She crouched, gasping for air, struggling to ease the pain.
A few strands of black mist curled from her body, creeping across the floor—then recoiled, as if pulled back at the last moment, just before touching a passing stranger.
“Don’t do anything bad,” she whispered to herself. “If they find me, I’m done for.”
She looked up at the sky. It felt darker now. Heavier.
Where was Wade?
…
Wade wasn’t hiding.
When he saw Remus Lupin step out of the bookstore entrance, he and the others said goodbye to the new professor and emerged together.
Michael noticed Remus’s expression was off. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.”
“Who was that man?” Remus asked, voice flat.
“The new Hogwarts professor,” Harry said. “He said his name was Ryan Troke.”
Remus froze. “The professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts?”
“Yes.”
Remus fell silent.
In truth, he’d already received a letter from Dumbledore asking if he’d consider taking the post. For a moment, he’d been tempted. But in the end, he’d declined.
Wade and Aslan Magical Workshop had a good working relationship, but it wasn’t something he could abandon. He still had responsibilities. Sirius Black was still hunting for Peter Pettigrew, and Remus couldn’t afford to relax.
Now, with a new group targeting young wizards—though the Ministry claimed the case was closed—Remus, and others like him who’d only recently gotten involved, knew it wasn’t that simple.
Too many incidents weighed on him. He couldn’t just retreat into the ivory tower of Hogwarts.
So Dumbledore had invited someone else.
The man looked polished, charming—like a perfect candidate. But Remus didn’t like him.
Perhaps it was instinct. A kind of instinctive unease between dangerous creatures. He couldn’t explain it, but he had a gut feeling—this man was like a vampire.
And after being betrayed by one such creature, Remus had little tolerance for them.
Still, he couldn’t be sure. From the outside, the man looked perfectly human.
Then again, there’d always been rumors at Hogwarts—that Professor Snape, the Potions master, was actually a vampire.
And if Dumbledore had invited him…?
“What’s the problem?” Remus heard Wade ask.
After a pause, Remus shook his head. “Just… a bad feeling. Did we finish shopping?”
“No, but the rest we’ll pick up at the Muggle mall,” Harry said with a grin.
“Oh? Then let’s go,” Remus said, curiosity stirring. “It’s getting late.”
“The weather’s terrible today,” Michael said, looking up. “Feels like it’s about to storm. Hard to breathe.”
They walked toward the entrance of Diagon Alley. Along the way, they saw people already using the new Communication Peas—talking into the air as they walked, laughing suddenly, as if conversing with invisible friends.
“Convenient,” Michael said. “Maybe the Book of Friends will be obsolete soon.”
“Unlikely,” Harry said. “The Book is cheaper, and it supports Image Teleportation. The Peas can’t do that.”
“Speaking of gifts,” Michael said, raising an eyebrow at Wade, “you’re not planning to give everyone a Communication Pea for Christmas, are you?”
He grinned. “Come on, put some thought into it. I’d love a special gift—maybe one of your magical puppets making little snacks.”
Wade glanced at him. Michael was joking—but his eyes were serious.
On the surface, he was asking for a gift. But beneath it, he was making a request: Don’t give them Communication Peas.
Magic puppets weren’t cheap, but since Wade made them himself, the cost was manageable. Communication Peas, however, were expensive—so popular that Aslan Magical Workshop had started imposing limits. They were now hot commodities, often resold for huge profits. They weren’t suitable as student gifts.
“Mmm-hmm,” Harry said, nodding vigorously. “They’re delicious. And the ribs and chicken legs are amazing too. Wade, your magic puppets must have some secret recipe.”
Wade smiled. “Alright, fine. The gift pack will include snacks. But I’ve prepared something else too…”
He looked at Michael and added, “Not a Communication Pea.”
“Good,” Michael said, grinning. “I’m looking forward to your surprise.”
They passed a pet shop when a wizard nearby suddenly shouted, “What? You’re serious? That’s real?”
People turned. The wizard ignored them, pressing a hand to his left ear, his face pale, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
“That’s impossible… are you joking?”
No one answered. But then—voices erupted from new Communication Peas, books in pockets began to glow, and a silver-white Patronus darted through the air, appearing before someone’s eyes.
One by one, people stopped. Their expressions synchronized in eerie unison—pale, terrified, speechless.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Explosions rang out. Wizards Apparated away in panic. Others sprinted toward the fireplace office.
Wade stared, bewildered. For a moment, it felt like he’d stepped into The Door of Chu—as if everyone around him had received a signal from the same director.
“What’s happening?” Remus started to ask—then froze.
He clutched his ear.
All three boys stared at him.
A beat passed.
Remus lifted his head. His throat worked. His eyes were wide with disbelief.
“Sirius Black… said… Nurmengard sent a message… that man… has escaped.”
(End of Chapter)
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