Chapter 979: Shifting Blame, the Truth Doesn't Matter
Chapter 979: Shifting Blame, the Truth Doesn't Matter
Time ticked by slowly, and no one arrived at the temporary rendezvous point. Lucius Malfoy, patiently waiting, could feel the chill seeping into his bones.
Even without deep thought, he knew something had gone wrong. Otherwise, the others would have joined him by now.
Lucius struggled to imagine the terrible punishment that awaited him if he returned to Britain and faced the Dark Lord.
He shuddered, not daring to dwell on that thought any longer.
He had to do something.
After much hesitation, Lucius finally decided to return to Spain and uncover what had transpired that evening.
It wasn't a difficult task. There was still some of the Polyjuice Potion that Snape had left them, and Lucius managed to obtain some Muggle hair after a short while.
To be honest, Lucius was very reluctant to take on the appearance of a Muggle. To him, it was an unbearable disgrace, but obtaining a witch or wizard's hair without attracting attention was challenging, and there was also the risk of being recognized. So, for now, disguising himself as a Muggle and then posing as a foreign wizard was the best option. Gritting his teeth, Lucius forced down the small cup of Polyjuice Potion, and soon his appearance transformed.
A few minutes later, Lucius Malfoy straightened his clothes and, carrying a travel suitcase, returned to Spain.
Finding the right people to ask around wasn't difficult, especially not for a Malfoy. He disguised himself as a spectator who had come to Spain to watch the International Wizard Duelling Competition and planned to stay at the Barnabas Inn. The owner and waiters there were fluent in multiple languages, so communication wouldn't be an issue.
Lucius entered the bustling inn and sat down at the counter, ordering a drink for himself while casually chatting with the bartender.
In this seemingly casual conversation, Lucius learned that the Mudblood hadn't died and had even advanced to the top 16, becoming one of the most promising contenders for the championship.
"If you're thinking of placing a bet, you'd better do it soon," the bartender advised with a smile, "but don't blame me if you lose."
Lucius paid no heed to the bartender's words. Instead, he glanced at the Spanish newspaper lying on the counter and saw a photo of Goyle's group after they had been captured. Although Lucius couldn't understand Spanish, the pictures spoke for themselves.
"Looks like some more Death Eaters have been caught," the bartender remarked as he glanced at the newspaper and wiped the glasses, "It says here that they're British Death Eaters who attempted to assassinate a competitor but were discovered and subdued by patrolling Aurors. I wonder what they were thinking, causing trouble during such a heavily guarded event? You don't look so well."
"Haven't had a good rest in two days," Lucius replied, finishing his drink and paying the bill. He took the key and headed upstairs with his suitcase to get some rest.
Of course, Lucius had no intention of sleeping. His mind was occupied with thoughts of how to absolve himself of blame. The Dark Lord would surely not let him off easily, especially since Lucius had accidentally damaged the diary. Lately, he had felt even less favored by the Dark Lord.
Now, the mission had failed.
It absolutely could not be attributed to his incompetence. Their failure had to be because they had walked into a trap set by the Order of the Phoenix, and that Mudblood had been prepared.
"Wait, wasn't that Mudblood supposed to have the power of prophecy?" Lucius suddenly recalled, realizing he could use this as an excuse.
The main reason for their failure was that members of the Order of the Phoenix had anticipated their plans through the Mudblood's prophecies and secretly ambushed them. Even the assassination attempt at close range had been foiled by that guy.
Wasn't this the best proof?
That Mudblood was a threat! If he were to shine in the International Wizard Duelling Competition...
Lucius stared at the newspaper in his hands, astonished to find himself sincerely hoping that the Mudblood would make it to the top four.
How absurd! However, the stronger that guy became and the more astonishing his performance, the less their failure would seem like a result of their own incompetence.
There was a saying for situations like this: It's not that I'm not trying; it's that my enemies are too strong.
...
In the competitors' area of the arena, Albert suddenly sneezed. He rubbed his nose and went to the counter to buy a hot drink to keep himself awake and ward off the night's chill.
As the number of remaining contestants dwindled, the duration of the duels increased, sometimes lasting more than fifteen minutes.
Among those who remained, Albert stood out due to his youth. Moreover, after the newspaper incident that exposed his extraordinary background, even more people had become interested in him.
Sipping his hot drink, Albert quietly waited in a corner.
Even though the immediate danger had passed, he dared not relax his vigilance. The duels for the night were not over yet, and his next opponent might be even more dangerous than Death Eaters.
Unfortunately, he had faced dark wizards in the previous two rounds.
Although he hadn't exerted much effort to win, facing obscure and peculiar dark magic still required him to be on high alert. He had no idea what terrible effects he might suffer if struck by one of those spells.
This time, Albert's opponent was a wizard in his thirties with narrow, slanted eyes. He seemed to be a Death Eater, as the referee had given him a special warning before the duel, a standard procedure for Death Eaters.
The narrow, slanted eyes and constant smiling made Albert cautious, as the saying went, "Beware of those with narrow eyes; they're often monsters."
As soon as the duel began, Albert took the initiative and struck first. So far, he hadn't encountered any wizard faster at casting spells. Perhaps aware of this speed disadvantage, his opponent immediately erected a magical barrier, successfully blocking Albert's first two attacks.
In fact, it was normal for his attacks to be blocked. After all, he had already participated in several duels, and his tactics were likely being sold by information brokers to other competitors.
Once an opponent had this information, they would naturally target his weaknesses.
For example, they would know that he rarely used dark magic and relied more on skill and strength to defeat his opponents. So, a magical barrier could easily block the first wave of attacks and prevent him from being caught off guard.
However, incomplete information could be very detrimental.
The narrow-eyed wizard seemed to realize this as well. While the defensive barrier did block the incoming attacks, it didn't last long. The barrier suddenly shattered, and a spell flew straight at him.
"Underestimating me, huh? That's irritating!"
The wizard's eyes, now wide open, gleamed with sharpness as he waved his wand to block the incoming Disarming Charm.
Indeed, his spellcasting speed was as fast as described in the intelligence, and it wasn't that he couldn't use dark magic; he just chose not to.
After blocking six consecutive attacks in a row, the narrow-eyed wizard swung his wand, preparing to take down his opponent in one fell swoop. Prolonging the duel would only put him at a disadvantage, as maintaining a defensive stance would eventually lead to an opening.
"Don't die just yet."
At the tip of the wizard's wand, a torrent of black flames erupted, forming a firebird that rushed towards Albert with a terrifying force.
"Fiendfyre!"
The spectators in the stadium gasped in unison, startled by the dangerous spell. Even the Aurors on duty below felt a sense of foreboding, readying their wands to extinguish the Fiendfyre should it spiral out of control.
"Oh my!"
"Be careful!"
"Concede now!"
Just as the audience thought Albert would be engulfed by the ferocious Fiendfyre, he calmly waved his wand, slicing the firebird in half as if he were a knight wielding a broadsword. The swirling Fiendfyre soared upwards, coalescing into a griffin-like creature that turned and swooped back towards the dark wizard.
This astonishing display left everyone in the stadium stupefied.
No one expected the young wizard to so effortlessly tame the wild Fiendfyre and counter his opponent in the blink of an eye.
"How did he do that? Wasn't that Fiendfyre?"
Just moments ago, Tonks had feared Albert would be consumed by the flames, only to witness him shatter the Fiendfyre and gain control over it in the next instant.
"No, Anderson seems quite adept at Fiendfyre himself," Kingsley remarked, watching the griffin-like creature rush towards the dark wizard. He lowered his voice and added, "I heard he once used the Blasting Curse to kill a Blast-Ended Skrewt in the Triwizard Tournament maze."
Narrow-Eyes, seeing the griffin-like creature rushing towards him, felt a sense of foreboding, not so much from the oncoming Fiendfyre, but from his opponent's proficiency in Dark Magic.
After successfully dispelling the Fiendfyre, Mimi-Eyes promptly raised both hands in surrender.
Not know Dark Magic?
That's preposterous!
This guy probably just didn't feel the need to use it!
If he were to anger his opponent, he might accidentally end up dead.
Narrow-Eyes' swift surrender disappointed the spectators, who had been expecting a thrilling duel. Some angry audience members even started throwing bottles.
"Congratulations, you win," the wizard said with a smile. "Here's my business card. If you ever need to do something inconvenient or need illegal items, I can provide them at a 9.5% discount."
"Hmm, that day may come sooner than you think," Albert said, raising his hand and pointing at the business card, which promptly vanished.
"You're very cautious," Narrow-Eyes said with a smile, not offended. "But it's good to be cautious. I believe we can work together pleasantly. By the way, I bet on you to win the championship, so do your best."
Albert's expression twitched as he watched Narrow-Eyes leave, then turned and returned to the competitors' area. The next match would decide the final four.
However, there would be no final match, as Albert's opponent had fought to a mutual defeat in the previous round and was unable to continue. Albert advanced by default.
Such occurrences were not uncommon in the Dueling Tournament.
Albert was undoubtedly the dark horse of the tournament, and the newspapers were quick to report on this development.
However, a certain gambling syndicate convened an emergency meeting to discuss Anderson's likelihood of winning.
There was no choice; a large amount of money had been wagered at the start of the tournament on Albert Anderson as the eventual champion.
If the dark horse were to win, they would have to pay out a substantial sum.
Moreover, this situation seemed somewhat familiar.
"What do we do now?"
"Don't ask me. From now on, don't take any bets related to that guy. Collect all the information you have on him and send it to the other three. Tell them that if they can knock the dark horse out of the tournament, they'll be rewarded. Remember to do it under your personal name, not the syndicate's."
"Will that work?" someone asked anxiously.
"It has to. There are some things we can't do, and you can't expect others not to notice if you do them. The Dueling Tournament must be kept relatively fair, at least on the surface. That's why these events are held in Spain; if things go wrong, a lot of people will want you dead." His warning was stark.
On the other hand, upon learning that Albert had advanced to the top four, Lucius Malfoy was so excited that he trembled. He hurried back to Britain with the newspaper, eager to share this "good news" with the Dark Lord.
However, sensing the Dark Lord's increasingly icy gaze, Lucius bowed his head even lower. Nonetheless, he could not escape punishment.
The Dark Lord, Voldemort, was already displeased, and the loss of several of his Death Eaters did not improve his mood. As for the death of Wormtail, it was of no consequence to him.
"Lucius, you have disappointed me," Voldemort said, his tone icy.
"My Lord, it wasn't my fault," Lucius said anxiously. "Our plans were easily seen through, and the members of the Order of the Phoenix took us by surprise. That Mudblood seems to have knowledge of future events through prophecy, and he was well aware that someone would try to assassinate him."
"Do not make excuses for your incompetence," Voldemort said, his anger rising as he cast another Cruciatus Curse at Lucius.
"My Lord, Severus was right. That Muggle is a big problem. It would be best to kill him before he becomes a greater threat," Lucius said through gritted teeth, enduring the pain of the Cruciatus Curse as he tried to divert Voldemort's attention to the Mudblood.
"That Mudblood... I shall kill him with my own hands."
Voldemort fixed his gaze on the cowering Lucius and commanded, "As for those who were captured, find a way to get them out. If you fail again, you know the consequences."
"I will, my Lord," Lucius said, trembling. He knew that Voldemort's patience with him was wearing thin.
However, it wasn't just Lucius who was in a difficult situation. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was also in a foul mood. He had been roused from sleep by an urgent message from the Ministry, and what angered him even more was that the Spanish Ministry of Magic claimed to have captured a group of "Death Eaters" and intended to hand them over to Britain in exchange for a reward.
The capture of Death Eaters was certainly cause for celebration, but the identities of these individuals concerned Fudge.
"No, they can't be Death Eaters," Fudge decided. He was well aware that defining them as such would create a significant problem.
(End of Chapter)
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