Chapter 715: One of Us?
The expected scene never came. The Death Eaters’ faces froze in place, expressions locked in shock. Ants didn’t swarm up Braun’s leg to gnaw at his flesh. Crab, as he passed, subtly retracted his sharp pincers. Mantis stared intently—but made no move to attack.
The Cheetah, sprawled on the ground with its body shattered, still had one eye left, glowing faintly red. But when Braun reached out and gently touched its broken spine, it let out a low, mournful voice—almost a whimper—like a silent conversation only the two of them could understand.
Among the Death Eaters, someone dropped their wand. Another bit down hard into their palm, nails digging deep. A third let out a gurgling, unnatural sound from their throat, as if someone had their neck in a chokehold.
Their eyes darted frantically between Braun and Wade, even Voldemort’s crimson eyes widening slightly.
—Why didn’t the Magic Puppet attack this Home one?
Could there… be some hidden connection between them?
Or was there some unspoken agreement between Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald?
Strange… Voldemort thought in that instant, as if a veil had lifted from his mind. It all makes sense now.
It was strange that after Gellert Grindelwald escaped, he’d repeatedly attacked Muggles—yet Dumbledore hadn’t pursued him with the same ferocity he once had. Of course. There must’ve been a pact between them. Perhaps even after their last brutal fight… they’d made peace.
Even among the Gray-Cloaked Wizards, a ripple of unease spread. Only Lucius Malfoy kept his head bowed, feeling the weight of being the only one awake in a world of fools.
…He remembered sneaking out of the monastery. He hadn’t even had time to Apparate when he turned back, searching desperately for anyone following. Then—thwack!—a full-body paralysis spell struck him from behind.
A moment later, the brown-haired youth arrived, flanked by the Gray-Cloaked Wizards.
He kicked the petrified wizard once. “Death Eaters?”
After pulling down the hood, he recognized Lucius Malfoy instantly. His voice carried surprise. “Malfoy? I didn’t expect to find you running.”
One of the gray-robed men pulled a note from Lucius’s robes and handed it to the youth. He unfolded it, glanced at it, then looked up at the monastery—appearing as if it had simply materialized from thin air. A smile spread across his face.
“Ah… so that’s how it works. You’re carrying a note that reveals your address. Who were you planning to deliver it to?”
The Petrificus Totalus had been lifted, but Lucius still stood surrounded by a dozen wands pointed at him. He couldn’t even raise his own.
Lucius Malfoy wasn’t the type to die defending a secret. But the moment he thought of Voldemort’s connection to Gellert Grindelwald… and Dumbledore’s own ties to the same man… cold sweat broke out across his forehead. His eyes darted frantically, searching for the right words.
Yet the youth didn’t need an answer. After a pause, he rubbed his chin and said, “Hmm… it can’t be Dumbledore, right? Wait—actually, I think I just guessed it correctly!”
Lucius’s heart sank. He instinctively touched his face, unsure what expression he’d betrayed. The man had guessed the truth—without even asking.
But then… the expected outcome didn’t happen.
The youth didn’t cast a Killing Curse.
Instead, he showed the note to the others, then slipped it back into Lucius’s pocket and patted it gently.
“Don’t worry,” he said lightly. “I’m not the kind of petty Home one who’d take revenge. You can still deliver it—just not now. When I’m speaking with your former master, I don’t want anyone interrupting. Understand?”
“Former master.” The words stung.
But as a prisoner, Lucius had no choice. He forced a stiff smile and nodded. “I understand. I’ll destroy the note. No one will know.”
The youth’s expression darkened. “That won’t do at all. You know how much backlash Dumbledore would face if he did nothing in this situation?”
In Lucius’s stunned silence, the youth shook his head. “Foolish people… they demand too much from the good, and too little from the wicked. So I’d rather be the villain than the saint.”
He placed a hand on Lucius’s shoulder, sincere. “Do exactly as I say. No tricks. I’m not bluffing. When I give the signal, understand?”
Lucius: …
His neck moved like a rusted mechanism, nodding twice—like a marionette pulled by invisible strings.
…
Now, standing among the crowd, Lucius watched the youth walk calmly through the ranks of the Magic Puppets. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in his mind, growing heavier with each passing second.
He lowered his head. His hood slipped down, hiding the storm of conflicting emotions in his eyes.
When Braun’s gaze swept over him, the Pure-Blood noble swallowed hard—his throat working like a mechanism grinding through rust.
And at the church entrance, Wade stared unblinkingly as Braun approached. His round face remained expressionless.
In truth, his fingers, hidden in his sleeve, were ice-cold. His nerves were taut, frayed.
The thorns of their gazes, the threats from Voldemort—none of it mattered.
What mattered was this:
Why didn’t my Magic Puppet attack him?
If they hadn’t attacked—maybe there was some kind of agreement between them. But… why, in his current state of weakness, was he even allowed to come so close?
Wade had given multiple silent commands. But the Magic Puppets remained alert—watching the Death Eaters, the Wizard Purity Party—but utterly indifferent as Braun passed through their midst.
His thoughts spun. Doubt crept in—was he even still in control of his own Magic Puppets?
Then—suddenly—the cloak landed on his shoulders.
“Don’t worry,” the cloak seemed to sense his panic, speaking in a tone softer than ever. “He’s one of us.”
One of us? Wade sneered inwardly.
How dare these Magic Puppets allow a man so dangerous to approach him—without his permission?
The child form he was trapped in was fragile. No one should be allowed near him—except his parents. Even then…
As the cold certainty settled in his chest, Braun stepped forward, bowing elegantly. “Good evening, little sir.”
Wade bit down on his lower lip until it turned white. He tilted his head up, his voice innocent, yet sharp with a hardness that belied his appearance.
“Why can you control my Magic Puppets?”
Every eye in the Streaming Mirror waited for Braun’s answer.
Braun smiled, bending slightly at the waist, looking down at Wade with warm amusement.
“I don’t control them. I’m just… recognized as one of them in their enemy-identification system.”
Wade’s eyes snapped wide open.
Relief flickered—then faded, replaced by a quiet disappointment in his alchemical knowledge.
He stared at the man, hesitant. “What kind of magic is that?”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
