Chapter 141: The Monopoly of the Underground Bar and the "Angel Fund" Spanning a Century
Beneath New York, the Blind Pig Bar.
This was an illegal underground bar hidden behind wanted posters.
The air was thick with suffocating cigar smoke, the clamor of jazz, and the smell of illegal alcohol.
It was a gathering place for Goblins, gangsters, and wandering Wizards.
When Moen and his party pushed the door open, all eyes in the bar focused on them.
"Wow." Jacob stared at the House-elf pouring drinks, his eyes wide, "What is this place?"
"This is an intelligence exchange."
Moen walked straight toward a large table in the depths of the bar.
Sitting there was an ugly-looking Goblin with rings covering his fingers—Gnarlak.
He was the boss here and an intelligence peddler in the New York underworld.
"Look who it is." Gnarlak exhaled a puff of smoke, his greedy little eyes sizing up Newt, "Isn't this the British zoologist who caused big trouble? Someone has put a high bounty on your head, Scamander."
"I think you are mistaken, Mr. Gnarlak."
Moen White slammed his Black Ironwood Cane heavily on the table, making the glasses jump.
"We are not wanted criminals. We are investors."
"Investors?" Gnarlak sneered, "In this day and age, besides that Grindelwald, who dares to invest in New York?"
"Me."
Moen took out a heavy alchemical pouch from his bosom and untied the string.
Clatter.
A pile of pure silver bricks, shimmering with a seductive luster, poured onto the table; they were refined from Occamy eggshells.
Gnarlak's eyes went wide instantly.
The surrounding patrons also stopped what they were doing, staring greedily at the pile of silver.
"This is my sincerity."
Moen sat down, interlacing his fingers, that aura belonging to a superior making Gnarlak put away his contempt.
"I want to buy three things."
Moen held up three fingers:
"First, real-time intelligence on those escaped beasts. I know your informants are all over the city."
"Second, I want to acquire 51% of this bar. Don't be in a hurry to refuse; I know you are being audited by the Magical Congress of the United States of America, and I can help you clear your books."
"Third..."
Moen leaned forward, his voice lowered:
"...I want you to help me set up an organization. It will be called the 'White Mutual Aid Society'."
"Mutual Aid Society?" Gnarlak asked while touching the silver bricks, "What for? Charity?"
"On the surface, it is to help wandering Wizards, Squibs, and even... half-breed Goblins who cannot survive in No-Maj society."
Moen's gaze deepened:
"But in reality, this is a talent reserve. I want you to help me collect those who are talented but oppressed under the current system. Give them food, give them work, and teach them magic."
"I want them to infiltrate the American magical and financial worlds over the next few decades."
"And..." Moen's pupils flashed with golden light, "...add a clause to the core contract of this organization: when that emblem lights up again, no matter how many years have passed, they must unconditionally respond to the call."
This was a move spanning 70 years.
Moen knew that when he returned to 1998 to fight Voldemort, Britain's resources might have been exhausted.
At that time, this force, which had been lurking in the United States for more than half a century, would become the key reinforcements that decided the outcome of the war.
Gnarlak looked at the silver bricks, then at Moen's eyes, which seemed to be able to see through the future.
He was a Goblin; he only cared about money.
Besides, what Moen gave was simply too much.
"Deal." Gnarlak grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth, "But I also want that."
He pointed at the Bowtruckle in Newt's pocket.
"Don't even think about it." Newt protected his pocket.
"Use this as collateral." Moen casually threw out a bottle of golden [Polyjuice Potion (Improved)], "The price this can fetch on the black market is enough for you to buy a hundred Bowtruckles."
Gnarlak took the potion, sniffed it, and nodded with satisfaction.
"The Demiguise is at Macy's. The Erumpent is in Central Park. As for that shiny little thing... it is in a jewelry store window."
Intelligence acquired.
Moen stood up and patted Jacob on the shoulder.
"Mr. Kowalski, I heard you want to open a bakery?"
Jacob was stunned: "Yes... yes, but I don't have any collateral."
"Now you do."
Moen pointed at the smoky bar:
"From today on, you are the nominal logistics manager of this 'White Mutual Aid Society'. You can use the kitchen here to bake bread and sell it to these Wizards. I think they are tired of rotten sausages and will like your donuts."
"Really?!" Jacob was so excited he was about to cry.
"Of course. This is also a kind of—cover."
Moen smiled slightly. Letting a Muggle be the manager, who would suspect that this was the base of a secret organization spanning the century?
...
Leaving the bar.
"Moen, do you really want to build a force?" Newt walked on the street, somewhat worried, "The Magical Congress of the United States of America does not like people forming cliques."
"I am not forming a clique; I am doing charity." Moenstraightened his trench coat, "Besides, compared to a madman like Grindelwald who wants to start a war, a businessman like me who only wants to make money is practically a dove of peace."
"Now, separate actions."
Moen glanced at the system compass.
"You go to Central Park to catch that rutting Erumpent. Remember to bring your pheromones."
"And you?" Newt asked.
"I am going to that orphanage called'Second Salem'."
Moen's gaze turned to the shadows of the city.
"There is a boy named Credence there. He hides a massive power inside him."
"Grindelwald is looking for him, trying to turn him into a weapon."
Moen gripped his Black Ironwood Cane, a flash of cold determination in his eyes:
"But I plan... to turn him into my'shareholder'."
"Before Grindelwald does."
Evening.
New York's winter came very early, with cold wind rolling flyers on the dirty streets.
The Second Salem orphanage was a gray, depressing wooden building, like a coffin that could swallow hope at any moment.
In front of the orphanage steps, Mary Lou was scolding the children.
She held a leather belt in her hand, her eyes fanatical and cruel.
"Are the flyers finished? Credence!" She screamed, staring at the thin boy who was huddled in the corner and still much taller than her even with his head lowered.
Credence.
The most powerful Obscurial in history.
At this moment, he was like a frightened mouse, shaking his head.
"Useless thing! You have been corrupted by evil!"
Mary Lou raised the belt and struck down hard.
Snap!
The belt did not land on Credence.
A hand wearing a black leather glove had firmly caught the end of the belt in mid-air.
"Who?!" Mary Lou turned back angrily.
Moen White stood at the bottom of the steps.
He was wearing that expensive black trench coat, holding his Black Ironwood Cane, his expression as cold as if he were looking at a pile of trash.
Chapter 142: The Redeemed Orphan and the Dark Lord in the Alley
"Pardon me, Madam."
Moen flicked his wrist, and his [Half-Giant Strength] erupted.
Mary Lou felt a massive force hit her, causing her to stagger and collapse onto the ground. The belt slipped from her hand and landed at Moen's feet.
"You... you're a Wizard?!" Mary Lou screamed in terror, pointing at Moen. "Devil! You're a devil!"
"I am your creditor."
Moen pulled a document from his coat, one he had obtained through Gnarlack's Goblin gang.
"The mortgage for this orphanage is three months overdue. Ms. Barebone, according to bank regulations, if you don't pay up, this house will be auctioned off tomorrow."
"What?" Mary Lou froze. "No... God will protect..."
"God doesn't handle debt collection, but I do."
Moen used his cane to lift the belt and threw it into a nearby trash can with disdain.
"Now, I have two proposals."
Moen walked over to Credence. The boy was looking at him with an expression of disbelief, fear, and longing.
"Proposal one: You continue abusing children here, and then end up on the street tomorrow."
"Proposal two: I pay off your debts for you. In exchange..."
Moen placed his hand on Credence's shoulder. He could feel the violent, surging Obscurus beneath his palm.
It was an extremely unstable nuclear reactor.
"...I want to take this boy with me."
"Take him?" Mary Lou scrambled up from the ground, a glint of malice in her eyes. "You want this waste? He is the devil's child! His mother was a wicked..."
"That is my business."
Moen cut her off, pulled a roll of dollars from his pocket, and threw it in Mary Lou's face.
"Take it and buy some bread. Or print your pamphlets. But from now on..."
Moen looked at Credence, his voice low and firm: "...You are the first official employee of the White Mutual Aid Society. You no longer belong here."
Credence was trembling all over. He looked at Moen, then at the money on the ground. For the first time, someone had not only stood up against that terrifying "mother" for his sake but had also paid a price.
"Go... go with you?" Credence asked hoarsely.
"Yes. If you want to eat your fill and stop getting beaten, follow me."
Credence hesitated for a moment, then finally took a step and stumbled after Moen.
...
Two blocks away, in a dark alley.
Moen stopped. Credence followed behind him, looking around nervously.
"Well done, Mr. White."
A low, magnetic voice came from the shadows at the alley entrance. Percival Graves, or rather, Grindelwald, slowly walked out.
He was wearing a black and white coat, his hands in his pockets, his deep eyes flashing with dangerous light in the dim glow.
"You've snatched my 'informant'." Graves looked at Credence, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
Seeing Graves, Credence instinctively shrank back.
Graves had also approached him, but that was to make him...
"That was a legal employment contract, Director Graves."
Moen turned and blocked Credence from view.
"I paid off his debts and gave him a job. This is entirely in compliance with United States law."
"Law?" Graves scoffed, taking a step forward. "In this world where the strong prey on the weak, the law is a shackle forged for the weak. Mr. White, you are a smart man; you should understand..."
Graves' gaze drifted past Moen to Credence: "...Some powers cannot be bought with money. They need, they need guidance to be released."
"Credence." Graves reached out, his tone seductive. "Come with me. I will teach you how to control yourself. I will give you... freedom."
Credence's eyes wavered. His longing for magic was etched into his very bones.
"Freedom?" Moen suddenly laughed.
He did not stop Graves but stepped aside, letting Credencemake his own choice.
"Does Mr. Graves' so-called freedom mean turning you into a bomb to blow up a No-Maj city, only to be hunted down and killed by Aurors?"
Moen pulled a piece of chocolate from his pocket—a snack he carried for Luna—unwrapped it, and handed it to Credence.
"Credence, I won't teach you magic for now, nor will I give you ethereal promises."
Moen looked into the boy's eyes: "But I can give you dignity."
"In my factory, no one will hit you. You will have a warm bed, and hot milk and bread every day. You only need to work to be paid."
"This is not charity; this is a transaction. In a transaction, we are equals."
Credence looked at Graves' outstretched hand—empty, offering only promises—and then at the chocolate in Moen's hand, real, sweet food.
For someone long accustomed to hunger and abuse, the instinct for survival conquered the desire for power.
Credence reached out with a trembling hand, took the chocolate, and popped it into his mouth. The sweetness melted on his tongue. He stood behind Moen.
Graves' hand froze in mid-air. His expression darkened with the anger of being offended.
As the first Dark Lord, he was rarely refused, especially by a "Muggle-born capitalist" who had intercepted his plans.
"You are playing with fire, White."
Graves' hand slowly moved toward the wand in his coat.
"The thing inside this boy... you cannot control it."
"That is a matter of my own risk assessment."
Moen gripped his cane tightly; the [Storm Perception (Purple · from Thunderbird)] within him allowed him to sense the violent fluctuations of magic in the air.
"And, Mr. Graves."
Moen's pupils constricted slightly as he activated the suppression field of the [Gate of Truth]:
"If you make a move now, I wouldn't mind causing a scene here and drawing every Auror from the Magical Congress of the United States of America."
"By then, would that 'perfect disguise' of yours still hold up?"
Graves narrowed his eyes, staring intensely at Moen. He realized it now. This youth knew who he was.
A long silence followed. Graves released his grip on his wand and resumed his arrogant posture.
"Very well."
Graves smiled, a smile that sent chills down one's spine.
"I hope your 'investment' yields a return. But remember, in this era on the brink of transformation, a merchant without a stance... usually dies first."
With that, he Apparated and vanished.
Only Moen and Credence, who was still chewing the chocolate, remained in the alley.
"Let's go."
Moen let out a sigh of relief; facing Grindelwald was still quite stressful.
He took out a Portkey in the shape of a silver coin engraved with the White emblem and handed it to Credence.
"Take this and go to the Blind Pig Bar to find that fat baker, his name is Jacob. He will arrange a place for you to stay."
"And you?" Credence asked.
"I still have to deal with a few other 'lost little animals'."
Moen glanced at the sky; dark clouds were gathering.
"Besides, that Thunderbird told me a great storm is coming."
"Before the storm arrives, I must earn enough money."
Chapter 143: The "Statue" in the Display Window, the Looted Diamond District, and the Perfect Storage Technique
The Diamond District of New York is the most bustling and dazzling place in the city.
Countless jewelry stores line the streets, with display windows showcasing diamonds and gold enough to make any woman scream.
But today, it is also the most dangerous place outside of a bank.
Moen White stood on the street corner with Newt and Jacob.
Newt looked anxious, while Jacob was obliviously eating the sandwich Moen had given him.
"According to Gnarlack's intel," Moen pointed to the largest jewelry store across the street, "the little guy who loves shiny things is in there."
"Niffler!" Newt exclaimed in a low voice. "It's going to empty the place out!"
"If it doesn't get caught, it certainly has the ability to do so." Moen adjusted his gloves. "Let's go see the masterpiece of this 'master thief.'"
Stanley Jewelry Store.
Although it was daytime, there seemed to be a "minor situation" inside the store.
Through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, one could see display racks toppled all over the floor, with pearl necklaces rolling everywhere like scattered marbles.
And in the most conspicuous central display window, there were several mannequin stands draped with diamond necklaces.
One of the "mannequins"
It was only one foot tall, covered in black fur with a platypus-like mouth, holding a giant sapphire in its hands, maintaining an extremely stiff pose as it tried to disguise itself as a statue, motionless.
Niffler.
"There!" Jacob shouted, pointing at the display window.
That shout ruined everything. The Niffler realized it had been exposed; it immediately abandoned its disguise, shoved the sapphire into its belly pouch, and turned to run.
"Catch it!" Newt waved his wand and rushed toward the glass door.
"Alohomora!"
The glass door opened in response.
Newt and Jacob rushed in, beginning a chaotic chase.
The Niffler leaped across the counters, sweeping more jewelry into its pouch, while Newt cast various spells from behind in an attempt to snare it, only to shatter more glass cabinets.
Moen did not run.
Like an elegant customer, he strolled slowly into the store, casually closed the door behind him, and hung up a "Closed" sign.
"How rude."
Moen looked at the mess on the floor and shook his head.
"This indiscriminate method of looting is too inefficient. If it were me, I would prioritize cut loose diamonds; they are small in volume and high in value."
He walked to the counter and looked at the Niffler, which was hanging from the chandelier, trying to reach the gold leaf decorations on the ceiling.
"Come down."
Moen raised his Black Ironwood Cane and tapped the chandelier lightly.
[Gate of Truth] — — Metal Fatigue.
Snap.
The metal chain of the chandelier snapped instantly.
The Niffler fell along with the chandelier, but a second before hitting the ground, Newt cast a "Cushioning Charm."
The Niffler wasn't hurt; after landing, it immediately bounced toward the door like a pinball.
It didn't want to be caught and taken back to that penniless suitcase; it wanted freedom! It wanted gold!
It was just about to squeeze through the gap in the door.
"This way is blocked."
Moen's wand tapped the floor again.
[Alchemy · Material Reconstruction].
The floor at the doorway suddenly liquefied, then instantly rose, turning into a semi-circular metal cage that trapped the Niffler securely inside.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak!"
The Niffler slammed frantically against the cage, but since it was metal reinforced by Alchemy, it didn't budge.
Newt ran over, panting, grabbed the Niffler from the cage, and held it upside down.
The scene that followed was nothing short of a "miracle."
Newt scratched the Niffler's belly, and countless diamonds, gold necklaces, silver candlesticks, and even a gold brick poured out like a waterfall from that tiny belly pouch, piling up into a small mountain.
"Good heavens..." Jacob stared in shock. "Is its stomach a bottomless pit?"
"It's a natural version of the Undetectable Extension Charm." Moen walked over, picked up a high-quality pink diamond to examine it, and added, "A very advanced spatial folding talent."
[Contact Successful!]
[Target: Niffler]
[Current Extraction Attempts: 2]
"Can't miss this opportunity."
Moen reached out and stroked the Niffler's furry head.
[Consumption of Extraction Attempts x 1]
[Extraction Successful!]
[Congratulations on acquiring trait]: Dimensional Stomach (Purple · Spatial Type)
[Description]: Your trench coat pocket (or any container you designate) will gain additional storage space, ignoring weight. 100 cubic meters.
[Bonus]: Gold Intuition (Passive). When you are near high-value precious metals, your nose will tingle slightly.
"A very useful skill." Moen retracted his hand with satisfaction. From now on, he would never have to worry about not having enough room for loot.
Just then, the piercing sound of sirens rang out at the street corner.
No-Maj police had arrived.
"We have to go!" Newt hurriedly stuffed the Niffler back into his suitcase.
"Wait."
Moen looked at the pile of priceless jewelry on the floor.
Although most of it was returned to the shop owner, as a "security service fee"...
He waved his wand.
From the pile of jewelry on the floor, a few of the most expensive loose diamonds and that gold brick flew up silently and automatically slipped into Moen's newly upgraded [Dimensional Stomach].
"Alright, now we can go."
Moen adjusted his collar and said to Jacob and Newt, who were still dazed:
"The back door is over there. The police should arrive on the scene in about thirty seconds."
"Remember, we are just 'concerned citizens' passing by who helped catch that 'wild monkey,' understand?"
The three of them slipped out the back door.
By the time the police rushed in, they only saw a mess of jewelry on the floor and the chandelier that had inexplicably fallen.
In the alleyway.
Newt wiped his sweat and hugged his suitcase. "Thank you, Mr. White. If you hadn't sealed the door..."
"Don't mention it." Moen touched his bulging pocket.
"Where to next?" Jacob asked. He now felt that following these two Wizards was even more exciting than watching a movie.
"Central Park."
Moen glanced at the Alchemy Compass in his hand.
"There is an Erumpent in heat there."
Moen looked at Newt, his eyes carrying a hint of mockery:
"Mr. Scamander, I hear you have a unique 'mating dance'? I look forward to seeing it with my own eyes."
"Er..." Newt's face turned red. "That was... for science."
"Of course, science." Moen smiled. "However, in order to prevent that big guy from blowing up the park, I suggest we hurry."
"Because the Erumpent's horn contains explosive fluid enough to blow up a building."
"And that is exactly the raw material my factory is in urgent need of."
Chapter 144: Night in Central Park.
Central Park, New York.
Although it was early winter, this urban lung was already covered in a thin layer of snow.
The lions and seals in the zoo were pacing restlessly in their cages, disturbed by the intrusion of a heavyweight overlord.
A colossal, rhinoceros-like grey beast was standing on the frozen lake.
Its skin was as thick as armor, and the massive horn growing from its nose was emitting a dangerous orange glow, like a lightbulb filled with magma.
An Erumpent.
"It is in heat." Newt Scamander hid behind a rock, nervously smearing a pungent musk onto his wrists. "Its horn can pierce anything, and if the liquid inside is injected into an object, it will cause a devastating explosion."
"Sounds like a self-propelled siege tank."
Moen White stood by an oak tree, hands in his trench coat pockets, looking relaxed.
"In my factory, every ounce of that liquid is worth more than gold. Mr. Scamander, please be careful; don't let it waste that precious liquid on the trees."
"I will do my best." Newt took a deep breath. "Whatever happens next, neither of you move."
Newt took off his coat and walked onto the ice.
The scene that followed would be unforgettable for JacobKowalski for the rest of his life.
This serious British magizoologist began to... towards the multi-ton beast.
He stuck out his rear, waved his arms, and made strange purring sounds, dancing to mimic the mating ritual of a female Erumpent.
"Good god..." Jacob covered his eyes. "This sight is too beautiful; I dare not look."
"This is the most primitive, yet most effective form of biological communication." Moen watched with great interest, even pulling out a pocket watch to time it. "Although the posture is quite unsightly."
The Erumpent was deceived. It walked docilely toward Newt, seemingly prepared to accept this "mate."
Everything was going smoothly.
Until Jacob accidentally knocked over the bottle of musk Newt had given him.
Crash.
The pungent liquid spilled all over Jacob.
The wind direction changed.
The Erumpent's massive nostrils twitched.
It smelled a stronger, more alluring "female" scent—coming from that chubby baker.
"ROAR!!!"
The Erumpent instantly abandoned Newt, its bloodshot little eyes locking onto Jacob. It lowered its head, aiming its glowing horn at Jacob's stomach.
Charge!
"Run! Jacob! Run!" Newt shouted.
Jacob let out a miserable shriek and bolted. But his round figure couldn't run fast on the snow, and the giant beast behind him was like an out-of-control locomotive, rumbling and crushing the ice and benches in its path.
"Help!" Jacob slipped on the ice, and the sharp horn was about to pierce his chest.
"Tsk."
Moen shook his head.
"Although this is an amusing farce, if my baker dies, who will cook for my mutual aid society?"
Moen moved.
[Half-Giant Speed].
His figure flashed across the snow, instantly appearing in front of Jacob.
He didn't use a spell to block it.
Because an Erumpent's horn can pierce the vast majority of magic shields.
Moen gripped his Black Ironwood Cane tightly with both hands, not blocking, but swinging sideways as if playing golf.
[Gate of Truth]—Terrain Reconstruction · Ice Prison.
"Rise!"
Rumble!
The ice between Jacob and the Erumpent suddenly exploded. Countless massive chunks of ice, manipulated by Alchemy, instantly rose up, forming a three-meter-thick ice wall slope.
The Erumpent couldn't brake in time and slammed hard into the slope; the massive inertia sent it flying up along the slope, soaring over Jacob's head.
"Whoa!" Jacob watched the beast fly over his head, terrified and collapsing onto the ground.
The Erumpent crashed heavily into a large tree not far away.
Its sharp horn pierced into the trunk.
Hum—
The liquid in the horn was injected into the trunk.
The oak tree, thick enough for two people to wrap their arms around, instantly began to expand and turn red, like an inflated balloon.
"It's going to explode!" Newt lunged over, pinning Jacobbeneath him. "Protego!"
BOOM!!!
The violent explosion blew the tree into a sky full of wooden debris fireworks.
The Erumpent was knocked to the ground by the shockwave of the explosion, somewhat dizzy.
"Perfect explosive effect."
Moen stood in the rain of flying wood chips, protected by an [Alchemy Repulsion Field], not a speck of dust touching him.
He looked at the Erumpent lying on the ground, struggling to get up, a flicker of a hunter's greed flashing in his eyes.
"Newt, the case!"
Moen shouted.
Newt immediately opened the suitcase.
But the Erumpent was too heavy, and it was still going berserk.
"Let me help you."
Moen walked behind the Erumpent.
He reached out, not grabbing the horn—that was too dangerous—but pressing down on the Erumpent's thick back.
[Contact Successful!]
[Detected High-Level Magical Creature: Erumpent]
[Current Extraction Count: 1]
"I won't extract traits this time." Moen calculated in his mind. "Traits aren't as valuable as the physical object."
[Alchemy · Local Anesthesia.]
A stream of blue magic shot from Moen's palm, directly striking the Erumpent's central nervous system.
The giant beast whined.
"Now, take the sample."
Moen took out a specially made, large mithril bucket with stabilizing runes carved all over the inner walls.
He skillfully walked to the side of the Erumpent's horn and used his wand to gently tap specific acupoints at the base of the horn.
Hiss—
A stream of orange, glowing, viscous liquid dripped from the tip of the horn into the bucket.
Erumpent horn venom.
This is the most efficient liquid explosive in the magical world.
"Just taking a little bit, it won't affect its health." Moenexplained to the dumbfounded Newt while collecting it. "This counts as... a fine for it destroying the park."
After filling a large bucket, Moen quickly sealed the lid and stored it in the [Dimensional Stomach].
"Get in, big guy."
Moen patted the Erumpent's rear.
He and Newt worked together, mainly Moen doing the heavy lifting, pushing the multi-ton beast into the suitcase.
"Click."
The suitcase closed.
Central Park returned to peace, leaving only a smoking crater and ice debris everywhere.
"That was insane..." Jacob sat on the snow, looking at Moen. "How did you do that? You just... milked that beast?"
"That is the art of Alchemy collection, Jacob."
Moen pulled Jacob up and helped him brush the snow off his body.
"Now, that's three. Only one left."
Moen looked toward the bustling department store.
"Demiguise."
"That little guy can foresee the future and can turn invisible. It should... be in a department store right now."
"Let's go."
Moen glanced at the time.
"We must finish off this last bit of trouble before the Aurors from the Magical Congress of the United States of America seal off the block."
"And..."
Moen's gaze became deep:
"...The eyes of that Demiguise can see the future. This is a very useful ability for me."
Chapter 145: The Shrinking Behemoth, the Future-Predicting Monkey, and Toying with Time
Gimbels Department Store stood tall in the night, its doors tightly shut.
But with the unlocking techniques from the Gate of Truth, it was no different from Moen's own backyard.
The three of them walked into the empty department store building.
It was eerily quiet, with only the occasional sound of clinking glass.
"Over there!" Newt lowered his voice, pointing at the cosmetics counter.
A large-eyed creature with silky silver fur, resembling an ape, was sitting there, clutching a lady's handbag and holding a piece of candy.
A Demiguise.
His name was Dougal.
Its eyes were blue, staring at a certain point in the void as if seeing something about to happen.
"Don't look at its eyes," Newt warned. "It can predict the future. The moment we have the intent to catch it, it will flee in advance."
"Predict the future?"
Moen White stood in the shadows, his lips curling into an interested arc.
"In other words, it's playing 'Rock Paper Scissors' with me, and it knows what I'm going to throw?"
"Roughly speaking." Newt was preparing to quietly circle around.
Suddenly, the Demiguise vanished.
It didn't run away; it used its fur's optical camouflage to turn invisible.
Immediately after, a massive roar came from overhead.
Shelves collapsed, and glass shattered.
A massive monster with feathers and a serpentine body, shimmering with blue-violet light, poked its head out from the ceiling attic.
It was too large, its body coiling throughout the department store's atrium like a mythical dragon.
An Occamy.
"Oh, my god..." Jacob fell back onto the floor in fright, "Is that... a dragon?"
"It's an Occamy," Newt explained. "It's a 'choranaptyxic'. Its body will grow or shrink according to the size of the space it's in."
"What a perfect... logistics trait."
Moen looked at the giant Occamy, his eyes flashing with the fanaticism of a capitalist seeing new technology:
"If we could analyze this creature's genes and apply it to container shipping... I could fit a cruise ship's worth of cargo into a matchbox. Shipping costs would drop to zero."
[Ding!]
[Special Node detected: Fantastic Beast Nest (Department Store)]
[Check-in successful!]
[Reward obtained: Draw attempts +1]
[Current attempts: 2]
"Since I have the attempts, let's get to work."
Moen gripped his wand tightly.
"Newt, you go handle that big snake. I have a way to deal with that invisible monkey."
Newt took out a teapot and a cockroach he'd caught from somewhere to lure the Occamy, taking advantage of its shrinking nature.
Meanwhile, Moen turned around, facing the empty corridor.
[True Sight] — Thermal imaging/Magic sensing.
He saw it.
That little invisible thing was crouching on a mannequin's shoulder, holding that handbag, preparing to flee toward the exit.
"Got you."
Moen spun around abruptly, his wand lashing out with a Stupefy.
Swoosh!
The spell missed.
The Demiguise had already jumped away a second before Moen raised his hand.
It had predicted the attack.
It revealed itself, crouching on a distant railing, those blue eyes staring at Moen as if mocking his slow movements.
"Interesting."
Moen wasn't angry.
He stepped forward.
The Demiguise immediately jumped to the left. Moen's second spell missed again.
It was always one step ahead.
This was the rogue nature of [Predicting the Future].
"You can see the future, right?"
Moen stopped his pace, standing before the railing and looking at the smug monkey.
"You saw me raise my hand, you saw the trajectory of the spell, so you dodged."
"But, little thing."
In Moen's pupils, that golden hourglass began to rotate in reverse.
[Sand of Time (Gold)] — Prepare.
"What if I modify the 'past'?"
Moen raised his wand again.
An image flashed in the Demiguise's eyes: Moen would attack to the right.
So it made a predictive jump to the left.
The moment it was in mid-air.
"Time 0.5 seconds — Rewind."
Hum—
The world rewound in Moen's perception.
Back to 0.5 seconds ago.
The exact moment when the Demiguise had just jumped, hadn't landed yet, and had no leverage to move.
And in 'this' timeline, Moen did not attack to the right.
He predicted the Demiguise's prediction.
His wand defied physical inertia, snapping back in mid-air to appear precisely on the left trajectory where the Demiguise was about to land.
Thump!
This was a solid physical strike.
The Black Ironwood Cane slammed hard against the Demiguise's forehead.
"Squeak!"
The Demiguise let out a miserable cry, its wise eyes filled with total confusion.
In its prediction, this place was clearly safe! Why was there a stick waiting for it?
It fell from the air, crashing onto the floor, and the handbag dropped out.
Moen stepped forward, pinning its furry tail down with his foot.
"Predicting the future is quite impressive."
Moen looked down at the dizzy creature:
"But before a time manipulator, your future is just a film strip I've edited."
[Contact successful!]
[Target: Demiguise]
[Consuming draw attempts x 2]
[Draw successful!]
[Congratulations on obtaining trait: Intuitive Warning(Purple · Passive)]
[Description: You cannot see specific images like it does, but your intuition is enhanced to the extreme. One second before danger occurs, your body will instinctively react (similar to Spider-Sense).]
"A decent life-saving skill."
Moen withdrew his foot and picked up the Demiguise by the scruff of its neck.
By now, Newt had also successfully used the teapot to trap the shrunken Occamy inside.
"Got it." Newt raised the teapot excitedly.
"I've got mine too." Moen shook the monkey in his hand.
Just then, Moen's gaze fell on the handbag the Demiguisehad dropped.
Was that an Occamy egg? Or... he opened the bag.
There was no egg inside.
Only a large pile of shiny candy wrappers and... a fragment of 'The New York Ghost'.
There was a photo on the newspaper.
It was a photo of Credence Barebone.
The headline read: 'Destruction Strikes Again! Unknown Black Smoke Attacks Senator Shaw!'
Moen's gaze froze.
"The Obscurus has erupted."
Moen tossed the handbag aside, his expression becoming grim.
"Grindelwald has made his move. He killed that senator to incite war between Wizards and No-Majs."
"Newt, Jacob."
Moen turned around, his tone urgent:
"The animals are all caught. Now, we're going to catch the biggest 'monster' of all."
"Where to?" Newt asked.
"The subway station."
Moen looked out at the pitch-black night, where the faint sound of thunder could be heard—not from a Thunderbird, but the roar of an Obscurus.
"If we don't hurry, that poor boy is going to be torn to shreds by the Aurors of the Magical Congress of the United States of America."
"And I..."
Moen gripped his wand, his eyes flashing with desire for the [Obscurus Origin]:
"...will never allow my 'core asset' to be destroyed by anyone."
Chapter 146: Broken Roof, Out-of-Control Black Blocks, and Alchemy's "Sedative"
Second Salem Orphanage.
The gloomy wooden building creaked in the cold wind.
Although Moen had previously paid off their debts, it couldn't erase the resentment accumulated over the years.
Credence Barebone sneaked back.
He had just eaten the first full meal of his life at Blind Pig Bar, but he couldn't leave his sister, Modesty, behind.
He wanted to take her with him.
However, Percival Graves (Grindelwald) was waiting for him here.
In a room on the second floor.
Mary Lou was holding her newly purchased belt, roaring at Modesty in the corner.
Credence was trembling as he stood in front of his sister.
"You ungrateful thing!" Mary Lou screamed. "You left with that devil, why did you come back? You brought evil back with you!"
"No... I just want to take Modesty away..." Credence's voice was shaking.
The Obscurus inside him began to spiral out of control.
Black smoke seeped from under his skin, and his eyes turned pure black.
"Credence."
Graves leaned elegantly against the doorframe, twirling his wand, his eyes fanatical:
"Don't hold back. Release it. Kill this woman who tortures you. Prove your worth to me."
"No!" Credence clutched his head in pain, "Mr. White said... I can control it..."
"Mr. White?" Graves sneered. "He's just a businessman. He treats you as a tool. Only I... I can give you the power of revenge."
Under the stimulation of Graves' words, Credence's emotions completely collapsed.
Boom!
A wave of black energy erupted, directly flipping the roof. Mary Lou screamed as she was slammed against the wall by the airwave, falling unconscious.
Just as the Obscurus was about to fully materialize into that black storm that would destroy the city.
"Hold it—back in!"
A cold, majestic voice, like a divine oracle, exploded above the broken roof.
Rumble!
It wasn't thunder.
It was a golden alchemical halo, like a giant lid, descending from the sky and forcibly capping the black smoke that was about to erupt.
Moen White stood on the roof of the opposite building.
He held the Black Ironwood Cane, its tip pointed at the orphanage. His trench coat flapped in the gale.
Newt and Jacob followed behind him, panting for breath.
"That's an Obscurus!" Newt exclaimed. "It's going to explode! We have to soothe him!"
"Soothe my ass."
Moen didn't look back, his left hand pressing down sharply.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Energy Solidification: Physical Compression.
"For this kind of uncontrolled nuclear reactor, the best way is—forced cooling."
With Moen's movement, the black smoke rolling over the orphanage seemed to be gripped by an invisible giant hand, unable to spread another inch.
"Aaaaaah—" Credence let out a pained roar from the center of the black mist.
"Bear with it, Credence."
Moen's figure vanished instantly.
[Half-Giant Speed].
In the next second, he charged directly into the black mist that was enough to tear an Auror apart!
"Is he crazy?!" Tina, who had also arrived, screamed. "That's pure destructive magic!"
But Moen didn't die.
The [Dragon's Might] on his body formed a high-density shield, isolating the erosion of the Obscurus.
He grabbed Credence in the center of the storm—the boy who was disintegrating.
"Look at me!"
Moen roared, forcibly turning Credence's face toward him.
"Graves is lying to you! He doesn't care about you at all! He just wants to throw you like a bomb!"
"And I..."
Moen pulled out a bottle of blue potion from his coat, emitting an extremely chilling aura.
It was the [Emotion Freezing Agent] he had refined using [Dementor Sliver] and [Sedative].
"...I don't want you to explode. You are my employee; your life is my asset."
Pop.
Moen crushed the potion directly against Credence's chest.
The blue liquid instantly seeped into the skin.
The "indifference" attribute of the Dementor and the "fury" attribute of the Obscurus underwent a violent neutralization reaction at this moment.
The blackness in Credence's eyes quickly receded.
That world-destroying black mist, like a building with its blocks pulled out, collapsed with a bang and shrank back into the boy's body.
Credence slumped into Moen's arms, falling into a deep sleep.
The disaster was nipped in the bud.
New York was saved.
The subway station battle would not happen.
"Clap, clap, clap."
A slow round of applause sounded.
Percival Graves stood at the edge of the ruins, not showing any exasperation despite the failure of his plan.
Instead, he looked at Moen, his eyes revealing an extremely dangerous appreciation.
"Remarkable."
Graves said softly:
"To be able to forcibly suppress an Obscurus with Alchemy. Mr. White, you are even more... arrogant than I imagined."
"You flatter me."
Moen held the unconscious Credence with one hand and leaned on his wand with the other, looking coldly at the first-generation Dark Lord.
"Mr. Grindelwald."
Moen called out his identity directly:
"Your act is over. The stage here is too small to hold both of us."
Graves' expression changed.
He slowly drew his wand.
No longer in a casual posture, but with the murderous intent belonging to a top duelist.
"You know who I am." Graves smiled, a wild and unrestrained smile. "Then you should also know that those who stand in the way of 'The Greater Good' usually don't end up very well."
"Newt! Take the boy and go!"
Moen suddenly tossed Credence toward Newt behind him.
"Jacob! Take the little girl!"
Newt caught Credence, and Jacob picked up Modesty.
"What about you?" Newt shouted.
"Me?"
Moen turned around, facing the Dark Lord who had once made all of Europe tremble.
He felt no fear.
In his eyes burned a fighting spirit called "Greed."
[System Prompt]
[Ultimate Target Detected: Gellert Grindelwald]
[Extractable Traits]:
[Gold] Demagoguery: The art of language, capable of making the most loyal Aurors defect.
[Gold] Master of Prophecy: Compared to Trelawney, his prophecies are more proactive and precise.
[Red] Fiendfyre Mastery: Able to summon and control blue Fiendfyre like a gas stove.
[Current Extractions Available: 3]
"This many times isn't enough to pull a gold one," Moenthought to himself.
He raised his Black Ironwood Cane, pointing the tip directly at Grindelwald.
"...If we don't fight, how will I know if this business is a profit or a loss?"
"Come on, Grindelwald."
Moen's pupils turned into golden vertical slits:
"Let me see just how hard the legendary Elder Wand really is!"
Boom!
Two spells collided over the ruins of the orphanage.
Golden alchemical radiance and blue Dark Arts flames intertwined, lighting up the night sky of New York in 1926.
This battle was destined not to be recorded in history.
But it would be the most vibrant stroke Moen White left in this era.
Chapter 147: Blue Symphony, Future Spells, and the Exploded Block
Late at night,
The ruins of the Second Salem Orphanage in New York.
The cold wind howled, but the temperature in this block was rising sharply.
Percival Graves (Grindelwald) stood on the rubble of the ruins, waving the wand in his hand as gracefully as a conductor's baton.
He didn't chant, but the air around him began to twist, and blue flames leaped at his feet—this was the high-level form of Fiendfyre, the prototype of a gas stove.
"If you think you can challenge me with that stick and a bit of Alchemy," Grindelwald sneered, "then your understanding of the word 'Wizard' is far too narrow."
"Reducto!"
With a casual wave, Grindelwald sent a bolt of blue light blasting toward Moen like a heavy cannon.
Moen White did not use Alchemy for defense.
He held the Black Ironwood Wand in one hand, drawing it from his cane, his gaze instantly becoming sharp.
"Then let me show you the 'Syllabus' from seventy years later."
"Protego!"
Moen's wand traced a perfect arc.
A powerful Shield Charm barrier, translucent and with a prism-refraction effect, instantly took shape.
Boom!
The Reductor Curse hit the barrier, exploding into a sky full of blue sparks, but the barrier remained unmoved.
This was not just an ordinary Shield Charm; it was a version enhanced by [Spell Maximization (Elder wandTrait · Pseudo)], increasing its strength by 200%.
"Oh?" Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. "Impressive magicdensity. But too passive."
His figure flashed.
In the next second, he used Apparition to appear behind and to the side of Moen, a blinding electric arc spurting from the tip of his wand.
"Confringo!"
This strike was enough to blow up a tank.
Moen did not look back.
[Intuitive Warning (Purple)] was screaming alarms in his mind.
Relying on instinct, his body lunged to the left, and he flicked his wand backward.
"Sectumsempra!"
An invisible, razor-sharp blade of magic sliced through the air, cutting toward Grindelwald with a shrill whistle.
This was a Dark Arts spell invented by Snape; in this era, it did not exist.
Grindelwald had originally planned to continue his attack, but his intuition as a top duelist made him feel a deadly chill.
He was forced to interrupt his casting and dodge to the side.
Slash!
The magic blade grazed Grindelwald's cheek, severing a lock of his white hair and cutting deeply into the brick wall behind him, leaving a bottomless crack.
Grindelwald touched his cheek, looking at a smear of blood on his fingertips.
His expression changed.
From contempt to extreme solemnity.
"What spell is this?" Grindelwald stared at Moen. "I have traveled all over Europe and have never seen such a Dark Arts structure."
"This is a legacy from the future, Mr. Grindelwald."
Moen turned around, holding his wand level in an elegant and cold posture:
"In this era, you might be the first Dark Lord. But in my time, magic has evolved."
"Again!"
Moen took the initiative to attack.
He wasn't just standing there; Half-Giant Speed allowed him to weave through the ruins like a bolt of black lightning.
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Incendio!"
Moen's casting speed was astonishingly fast, and they were all non-verbal spells.
Red Stupefying Curses, golden Disarming Charms, and orange Incendio Charms blasted toward Grindelwald as densely as machine-gun fire.
Grindelwald was forced onto the defensive.
He waved his wand, forming a wall of blue fire in front of him that swallowed all of Moen's attacks.
"Crude, but effective."
Grindelwald sneered and suddenly pushed forward with both hands.
Rumble—
Several abandoned buildings nearby suddenly began to tremble.
Countless bricks and steel bars, drawn by Grindelwald's magic, flew into the air, turning into a giant dragon composed of construction debris that roared as it smashed toward Moen.
This was a combination of high-level Transfiguration and telekinesis.
"Outnumbering me?"
Moen looked at the "junk dragon" crashing down, a wild, arrogant smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
He slotted his wand back into his cane and slammed both hands onto the ground.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Matter Reconstruction: Fortification.
"Rise!"
The earth roared.
The street beneath Moen's feet instantly surged upward. Countless rocks and soil rapidly reorganized under the golden glow of Alchemy, transforming into a massive hand made of rock that shot into the sky!
Bang!
The giant rock hand grabbed the "junk dragon" in mid-air and crushed it with raw force!
Debris fell like rain.
In the dust, Moen and Grindelwald stared at each other from dozens of meters away.
"Alchemy..." A fanatical light flickered in Grindelwald's eyes. "You're using Alchemy in a duel? It's practically art!"
"For a merchant, there is no art."
Moen brushed the dust off his clothes, his wand sliding back into his palm.
"Only efficiency."
He charged forward again.
This duel across eras was just warming up.
Soon.
The battle reached a fever pitch.
The entire block had been leveled to the ground.
The Aurors of the Magical Congress of the United States of America were establishing a barrier on the perimeter, not daring to approach the center of the battlefield.
Grindelwald was indeed incredibly strong.
His spells seemed endless, and every wave of his wandcarried destructive power.
Even though Moen had [Spell Maximization], he still felt the strain in terms of pure magical volume and casting technique.
"Let it end, child!"
Grindelwald suddenly Apparated above Moen's head.
He pointed his wand downward.
"Oppugno!"
Countless sharp glass shards and steel bars shot toward Moen like a torrential rain, sealing off all his space to dodge.
If this hit, Moen would be riddled with holes.
But in Moen's vision, the world suddenly slowed down.
[Sand of Time (Gold)] — Activated.
"Rewind."
Hum—
Time flowed backward by 0.5 seconds.
Grindelwald had just appeared overhead; the spell had not yet been cast.
In this "redo" timeline, Moen had already predicted that position.
Instead of dodging, he raised his wand directly toward the void above him and released the strongest Dark Arts spell he currently mastered.
"Fiendfyre!"
Boom!
A black-red giant serpent of Fiendfyre, personally controlled by Moen, roared toward the position where the spell had not yet been cast.
As soon as Grindelwald appeared, he slammed head-on into the Fiendfyre serpent.
"What?!" He was pale with shock.
This kid predicted his landing spot? And the timing was so precise?
Grindelwald was forced to abandon his attack, twisting his body mid-air and using a blue magical shield to withstand the Fiendfyre.
Sizzle—
The two types of fire consumed each other in the air.
Grindelwald was blown back by the impact of the Fiendfyre, landing awkwardly on the ground, a corner of his black-and-white coat charred.
This was the first time tonight he had truly "suffered a loss."
Chapter 148: The Final Negotiation and the Rain of Oblivion
Moen landed on the ground, panting heavily.
The continuous use of high-level magic and time reversal had left his magic on the brink of exhaustion.
But he couldn't show weakness.
Leaning on his cane, he stood amidst the Fiendfyre, like a demon god bathed in fire.
"Still want to fight, Grindelwald?"
Moen's voice was hoarse, yet filled with a sense of deterrence.
"You can't kill me. I can't kill you either. If we keep fighting, the main force of the Magical Congress of the United States of America will arrive."
"By then, your disguise will completely fail. Your painstakingly built infiltration plan will be ruined."
Grindelwald stood up from the ground.
He looked at Moen, the killing intent in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by a deep calculation.
Indeed.
His current identity was the Director of Magical Law Enforcement in the United States.
If exposed, it would be very detrimental to his subsequent plans.
"What do you want?" Grindelwald asked.
"I want half."
Moen pointed to Credence in the distance, who was being protected by Newt.
"That boy belongs to me. I'll take him away, and I won't expose your identity."
"Impossible," Grindelwald refused. "He is the core of my plan."
"Then go explain to all the Aurors in the United States why you're using Dark Arts here."
Moen took out an Alchemy signal flare, gesturing as if to fire it.
Grindelwald fell silent.
He weighed the pros and cons.
Although Credence was important, he could find another opportunity to take him back.
But if his identity were exposed now, he would be forced to flee, which would disrupt his global layout.
"Fine."
Grindelwald revealed a cold smile.
"You can take him. But remember, White. Power attracts power. That boy will eventually return to my side."
"That's a matter for the future."
Moen put away his wand, his body's tension not relaxing.
"Now, please leave my sight. Immediately."
Grindelwald took a deep look at Moen.
"We will meet again, friend from the future."
Pop!
Grindelwald disappeared via Apparition.
Moen finally breathed a sigh of relief, his body swaying, nearly falling over.
"This old guy... is really tough."
...A few minutes later.
A large number of Aurors rushed into the ruins.
Leading them was President Piquery of the Magical Congress of the United States of America.
"What happened here?!" Piquery was shocked as she looked at the leveled city blocks.
Moen White had already straightened his clothes and stood in the center of the ruins, holding a Property Damage Assessment Form.
"An unfortunate... magical accident, Madam President."
Moen talked nonsense without blinking:
"An out-of-control Obscurus caused the damage. But the good news is, I've already brought the situation under control."
He pointed behind him.
Newt was supporting the unconscious Credence, while Jacob held the little girl.
"What about Director Graves?" Tina ran over and asked, "Someone said they saw him."
"He..."
A sharp glint flashed in Moen's eyes:
"...He heroically went to pursue the 'mastermind.' I think it might take him some time to return."
Early morning.
The crisis in New York was resolved.
But the trouble remained.
The entire city was damaged, and thousands of No-Majs had witnessed magic.
"We're exposed," President Piquery said despairingly. "If we don't erase their memories, war will break out."
"I have a way."
Newt stood up. He opened that battered suitcase.
"Frank."
That massive Thunderbird flew out, soaring into the clouds.
It released a storm in the sky, rain containing Swooping Evil venom (a potent obliviator).
The heavy rain poured down.
All the No-Majs in New York had their memories of last night washed away in the rain.
But in the rain, a few people held up umbrellas.
At an abandoned subway station entrance.
Moen White held up a large, black Alchemy umbrella.
Under the umbrella stood Newt, Tina, Queenie, and... that stout baker Jacob, along with the still unconscious Credence.
"The rain will erase bad memories." Newt looked at Jacob, feeling a bit sad. "Jacob, you..."
Jacob smiled and prepared to walk into the rain.
"Wait."
Moen extended his cane, stopping Jacob.
"Although it's the rule, I hate tragic endings."
Moen looked at Jacob:
"Mr. Kowalski, you are an employee of my White Mutual Aid Society. A logistics supervisor. I have an obligation to protect my employees from 'workplace injuries' (referring to memory loss)."
Moen pulled a badge from his pocket and pinned it to Jacob's chest.
Memory Anchor · Alchemy Amulet.
"Wear this. The rain won't affect you."
Jacob was stunned: "Is... Is it true? I don't have to forget Queenie?"
Queenie covered her mouth, tears streaming down as she rushed over to hug Jacob.
"Thank you, Moen!" Queenie cried out gratefully.
Moen smiled.
He turned to look at Newt.
"Newt, are you heading back to Britain?"
"Yes." Newt picked up his case. "I'm going to write my book."
"Very well." Moen handed him a check. "This is a publication sponsorship fee. Remember to write 'Thanks to the support of the White Foundation' on the title page."
Newt accepted it with a smile.
Finally, Moen looked at the still unconscious Credence.
"I'm staying."
Moen looked at the ruins and the rebuilding New York.
"I still have many things to do."
Moen bought the entire building where Blind Pig Barspeakeasy was located, transforming it into the headquarters of the White Mutual Aid Society.
Using Alchemy and Dementor potions, he successfully stabilized Credence's condition and trained him to control the power within. Credence became the first Guardian of the association.
Taking advantage of the information gap, Moen went on a short-selling spree on Wall Street, accumulating astronomical wealth.
He spent a whole year here studying ancient magic, thoroughly mastering the technology of the Time-Turner, and combined with Grindelwald's fighting style, he developed his own Magic-Guided Combat Arts... Time flew by.
When Moen felt that the layout was complete and all the seeds had been planted.
He stood once again on the pier from back then.
In his hand, he held the now repaired Time-Turner.
"It's time to go back."
Moen took one last look at this bustling 1920s.
He left behind legends, left behind influence, and left behind future reinforcements.
"Alfred, activate the array."
Hum—
Golden light enveloped Moen once again.
The world began to spin.
The New York of 1926 vanished... May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts, Room of Requirement.
Bang!
Moen's figure appeared out of thin air, falling onto the floor.
The surroundings were still thick with smoke, and the wreckage of the shattered Time-Turner was still smoking.
It seemed he had been gone for less than a second.
But the aura about him had undergone an earth-shaking change.
Alfred still stood at the door, looking at him with concern: "Young Master? Did you... succeed?"
Moen stood up, patting the trench coat that seemed stained with the dust of time.
Deep within his pupils, the storm of 1926 was faintly visible.
"I succeeded, Alfred."
Moen gripped the wand that had weathered battles in the past.
"Not only have I returned."
"I've also brought back... a future army."
"Let's go."
Moen pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement.
"Let Voldemort see what is meant by—the torrent of history."
Chapter 149: Reinforcements Across Seventy Years, the American Flag in the Sky, and the Besieged Besiegers
Hogwarts, late at night.
Outside the castle, the sounds of battle shook the heavens.
Voldemort's patience had run out.
Although the one-hour truce hadn't fully ended, he had lost interest in waiting. Giants were battering the walls, werewolves were climbing the towers, and Dementors were circling in the air.
Inside the Room of Requirement.
Moen White pushed open the large door leading to the corridor.
"Young Master." Alfred followed behind, looking at the still-hot [White Mutual Aid Society General Summoning Order] in Moen's hand, an ancient alchemical gold coin. "Are you sure they will come? After all, seventy years have passed."
"The contracts of capital are eternal, Alfred."
Moen straightened his trench coat, which remained crisp even after traveling through time and space, his gaze cold.
"In 1926, I bought half of New York's underworld and established that foundation. I left their descendants inexhaustible wealth and status. In exchange..."
Moen gripped the gold coin tightly and suddenly crushed it.
"...when the Head of the House summons them, they must repay this debt that spans a century."
Hum—!!!
A strange spatial fluctuation instantly spread throughout Hogwarts, even breaking through the Anti-Apparition boundary set by Voldemort, because this was a summons based on a Blood Pact contract, of an extremely high level... Outside the castle, on the main battlefield.
Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick were leading the students in a difficult resistance.
Countless Death Eaters surged forward like a black tide.
"We can't hold on!" Neville shouted. He had just blown away a Werewolf with an alchemical grenade, but more were rushing up.
Voldemort stood on the high ground at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, watching the burning castle with a cruel smile.
"It's over. If Harry Potter doesn't come out, then everyone shall be buried with him."
Just then.
A sudden, massive, low roar came from the sky.
That wasn't thunder.
That was the roar of engines.
Voldemort looked up, his red eyes narrowing.
The clouds broke.
Dozens of massive, streamlined airships, clearly modified with magic, burst through the clouds!
And on the side of the airships was printed a massive logo that shimmered in the night sky:
[White Foundation - US Branch]
"What is that?!" Lucius Malfoy cried out in terror.
The hatch doors opened.
Countless black dots descended from the sky.
They weren't riding brooms; instead, they wore uniforms. What they held in their hands weren't ordinary wands, but alchemical glider rapid-fire wands, similar to the short guns used by American Aurors.
"For Mr. White!"
"For the contract!"
Leading them was a burly middle-aged Wizard with sharp, hawk-like eyes.
He was Newt Scamander's grandson—Rolf Scamander.
Da-da-da-da—
Dense spells descended from the sky like a rainstorm.
Stupefy, Explosion Curses, Binding Curses... The werewolves and Death Eaters climbing the walls were caught off guard and fell from the walls like dumplings being dropped into a pot.
"Reinforcements?!" Professor McGonagall looked at the sky in shock. "Americans? But the Ministry of Magic cut off communications..."
"They aren't reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic."
Moen White's figure appeared at the highest point of the Astronomy Tower.
He stood in the wind, overlooking the battlefield.
"It's my private army."
Moen raised his cane and waved it toward the fleet of airships in the sky.
"Clear the battlefield," Moen ordered.
The bottoms of the airships opened, dropping rows of massive alchemical flares.
The once pitch-black battlefield was instantly lit as bright as day.
Dementors feared strong light the most; they screamed and scattered in all directions, only to be hunted down by the elite Wizards in flight wings using the Patronus Charm.
The situation reversed in an instant.
The Death Eaters who had originally surrounded Hogwarts were now being surrounded in turn by the American Wizard legion in the sky and the Hogwartsdefenders on the ground.
Voldemort's smile froze on his face.
He stared fixedly at Moen on the tower.
"Moen White..." Voldemort's voice was filled with rage, "You actually colluded with foreign forces!"
"It's called strategic cooperation with a multinational corporation, Tom."
Moen's voice spread across the field through the loudspeakers on the airships, carrying a calm mockery:
"Your Death Eaters are still using medieval tactics for group brawls, while we..."
"...we have already entered the era of multi-dimensional warfare."
Moen turned and said to Neville beside him:
"Commander Longbottom, the situation has balanced out now. Hold your position."
"Where are you going?" Neville asked excitedly.
"I'm going to handle a little... 'internal conflict'."
Moen looked toward the Shrieking Shack.
He knew Voldemort would soon summon Snape. For that Elder Wand.
"Professor Snape's part is about to wrap up."
Moen adjusted his gloves, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
"I need to go give him his 'exit', and by the way... let Saviorsee what the real truth looks like."
"Let's go, Alfred."
Moen disappeared from the tower.
"To save that awkward old bat."
The Shrieking Shack.
It was still as dilapidated and filthy as it had been four years ago, the air thick with the smell of old dust.
But tonight, it was filled with a nauseating aura of Dark Arts.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hid behind a pile of crates, peering through the gaps, watching the center of the room in terror.
Voldemort stood there.
He toyed with the Elder Wand in his hand, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness.
Beside him, the Giant python Nagini floated in a magical protection sphere, hissing and flicking its tongue.
Opposite him, Severus Snape's face was pale, his black robes trembling slightly under the magical pressure.
"My Lord..." Snape's voice was low, "The current situation is dangerous. The reinforcements brought by that White..."
"Those Americans are nothing to fear," Voldemortinterrupted him, his voice soft and dangerous. "As long as I have completely mastered this wand, no one in this world can stop me. Not even Dumbledore."
Voldemort held up the Elder Wand and looked at it.
"But I have a question, Severus."
Voldemort walked slowly toward Snape:
"This wand... it doesn't listen to me. Although I hold it, I cannot feel its full power. It still has a master."
Snape's breath hitched for a moment. He knew what was coming next.
"Who killed Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked softly. "It was you, Severus. You killed him."
"My Lord..." Snape tried to step back, but he was pinned in place by those red eyes.
"This wand belongs to the Wizard who killed its previous master." Voldemort raised the wand, but he didn't point it at Snape; instead, he looked at Nagini. "Therefore, as long as you live, I am not its true master."
"You have been a good servant, Severus. But I do not need a servant; I need power."
"Kill him."
Voldemort flicked his wand.
Chapter 150: Execution in the Snake Cage and the Truth of Memories
The magic orb containing Nagini flew towards Snape, enveloping his upper body within it.
"Hiss—!!!"
The giant snake opened its bloody maw, and its two sharp fangs bit fiercely into Snape's neck.
"Ah—"
Snape let out a scream that sounded as if his trachea had been severed.
Blood gushed out, staining the magic orb red.
Harry tightly covered his mouth behind the crate, tears streaming down his face. He hated Snape, but watching this scene, he felt a chill that reached his very bones.
Voldemort watched Snape fall with indifference, his eyes looking at a discarded tool.
"I regret this."
Voldemort recalled Nagini, turned, and walked through the wall to leave.
He was certain Snape was dead.
He was certain the Elder Wand now belonged to him.
Only Snape remained in the room, lying in a pool of blood, his breathing gradually weakening.
"We have to help him!" Harry rushed out and ran to Snape's side.
Snape wasn't dead yet. He clutched the wound on his neck, his black eyes staring fixedly at Harry.
"Look... look at... me, I..." Snape gasped with difficulty, black blood welling up through his fingers.
"He's bleeding! Too much blood!" Hermione cried, trying to use Essence of Dittany, but it couldn't stop magic snake venom of this level at all.
Just as Harry was in despair.
"Let go."
A calm, emotionless voice rang out in the room.
Harry looked up sharply.
Moen White stood behind them at some point. He was wearing his slightly dusty black trench coat and holding a silver metal case.
"Moen?! You... you were watching?!" Harry roared, "Why didn't you save him?! Voldemort was right here!"
"Because if I didn't let Voldemort think he won, this war would never end."
Moen pushed Harry aside and knelt down beside Snape.
"And, I never do business I'm not sure of."
Moen opened the metal case.
Inside was a complete set of precision alchemy surgical instruments and a potion emitting a strange blue light.
[Anti-Nagini Venom Serum · Ultimate Edition (Improved based on Arthur Weasley's data)]
"Professor Snape."
Moen looked at the dying Snape, his tone still that annoying capitalist drawl:
"According to Article 12 of our 'Staff Lifetime Employment Contract': 'If an employee encounters a life-threatening danger while performing their duties, the employer is obligated to provide the highest level of medical rescue, with the costs deducted from bonuses over the next ten years.'"
"So..."
Moen poured the bottle of blue potion directly onto Snape's horrific wound.
Sizzle—
A puff of white smoke rose.
A miracle happened.
The black blood that had been gushing instantly coagulated, and the torn muscle tissue began to grow and stitch together frantically under the catalysis of the alchemical potion.
"...Your life has been forcibly extended."
Snape gave a violent cough, the sound of air re-entering his lungs.
He had survived.
"Take this, Harry."
Moen didn't care about Snape's gratitude.
He pointed to the silvery substance seeping from the corner of Snape's eye—it was memories.
"That's what he risked his life to give you. Go get a bottle and collect it."
Harry hurriedly conjured a bottle and caught those memories.
"What is this?" Harry asked.
"The truth."
Moen stood up and wiped the blood off his gloves.
"About your mother, about Dumbledore's plan, and... about that thing you must do."
Harry looked at the bottle in his hand, then at Snape, who was weak but out of mortal danger.
"Thank you..." Harry whispered.
"Don't thank me. That was a paid service."
Moen walked to the broken window, looking at the army of Death Eaters gathering in the distance and Voldemorthovering in the air.
"Voldemort thinks he has gained the right to use the Elder Wand."
A mocking sneer curled the corner of Moen's mouth.
"But he doesn't know that the true master of that wand is currently standing behind him, calculating every bit of his remaining value."
...Headmaster's Office.
Harry lifted his head from the Pensieve, his face pale as paper, his body swaying.
He had finished watching Snape's memories.
He knew the whole truth.
Snape loved Lily.
Snape was Dumbledore's man.
And he, Harry Potter, was the seventh Horcrux that Voldemort had unintentionally created.
To kill Voldemort, Harry had to die. And it had to be at Voldemort's hands.
"I'm a... pig." Harry laughed bitterly, slumping into a chair, "Dumbledore kept me just to send me to the slaughter at the right time."
"A very precise metaphor."
Moen White was standing by Fawkes's perch, feeding the reborn fledgling.
"You were here the whole time?" Harry looked at him, not surprised.
"I've always been here."
Moen turned around and looked at the boy who was about to go to his death.
"Are you ready to die, Harry?"
"Do I have a choice?" Harry asked back, "If I don't die, Voldemort won't die. Everyone will die."
"Then go."
Moen didn't cry or try to stop him like Hermione, nor was he angry like Ron.
He simply walked up to Harry and straightened his tattered robes.
"However, before you go to your death, I think you need to know one more thing."
Moen took out his own Black Ironwood Wand from his pocket, which contained the Black Ironwood Wand, and tapped it lightly against his palm.
"About the Elder Wand."
Harry looked up: "Voldemort thinks that by killing Snape, he became the master."
"Wrong."
Moen shook his head:
"The transfer of the Elder Wand's loyalty depends on 'defeat,' not necessarily killing."
"On the night Dumbledore died, who disarmed him first?"
Harry recalled that horrific night.
"It was... Malfoy! Draco Malfoy! He used the Expelliarmus!"
"Correct." Moen nodded, "So, the master of the Elder Wandbecame Draco."
"But..." Moen smiled, a smile like a fox that had stolen a chicken, "...a few months ago, in my office, I confiscated Draco's wand on the grounds of 'violating school rules' and gave him a harsh lesson during a practice match."
"So?" Harry's eyes widened.
"So, the true current master of the Elder Wand..."
Moen pointed to himself:
"...is me."
Harry was completely stunned.
Voldemort thought killing Snape would make him invincible.
As it turned out, the wand he held was actually answering to Moen White?
"What... what does this mean?" Harry asked.
"It means that when Voldemort uses that wand to fire the Killing Curse at you..."