"Hiss."
After spending a few seconds layering himself with a full suite of stealth spells, Avada immediately slipped into the spatial passage and gave chase. The instant he sensed air again, he cast a Bubble-Head Charm and followed it up by activating the Near-Yet-Far Spell, vanishing back into the spatial interstice.The entire sequence flowed as smoothly as drifting clouds and running water—utterly flawless.
He appeared to have arrived near a small village. Several neat, compact houses stood in orderly rows not far away, with a few cars parked alongside them. Sunlit grasslands and ponds surrounded the homes, and in the distance there even seemed to be a grape arbor. The area was quiet; only a few Muggles could be vaguely seen in the fields, and nearby—
No one else.
No one at all…
"Where did he go?!"
Avada rapidly swept the surroundings with his magical senses, yet found not a trace of another wizard. There were a few people inside the distant houses, but without exception they were all Muggles.
"Gone? In just a few seconds?"
There wasn't even the faintest residual magic in the area. Maintaining his Disillusionment Charm, Avada stepped out of the spatial interstice and began carefully examining the environment.
"Disguise? No—impossible. Forget the fact that you couldn't create any meaningful disguise in just a few seconds. Directly altering one's mental signature alone is beyond current magic. There's no method in the entire wizarding world capable of changing a person's mental structure… even I can't do that yet. Wait."
"That door… the spatial structure around it seems slightly off."
He moved closer, intending to study the anomaly more closely, but those faint traces healed themselves rapidly—just like the spatial passage earlier—leaving nothing behind. The wizard must have left only moments ago for Avada to sense even that fleeting hint.
"That kind of signature… similar to a Portkey? No, not quite the same. I can't determine its exact function—only that it's some kind of spatial technique."
"Damn it, why is this guy so cautious? He Apparates and then immediately escapes with something like a Portkey?"
"There's still no magic that can track Apparition, is there? What exactly is he guarding against?"
Avada drew his wand and conducted another meticulous inspection. After confirming that the door wasn't a hidden magical object and that no spatial magic expert was lurking beyond it, he recorded the location—just in case he needed to Apparate back later—before returning to Diagon Alley.
"Throughout the entire conversation earlier, he never showed any clear hostility or intent to attack me. Just extreme vigilance and distrust… Is he testing me?"
As he walked back into the magical materials market, Avada replayed the encounter in his mind.
"Did I do anything suspicious? Or is the very act of installing Anti-Apparition wards for those Pure-blood families something that's disadvantageous to him? But that doesn't quite fit. If that were the case, he should have shown hostility—not mere suspicion. And then there was the topic of children…"
"Is someone targeting the descendants of Pure-blood families?"
"No… that doesn't add up either."
He dismissed the unsettling thought almost as soon as it surfaced.
"If that were the case, my previous clients would have been far more anxious, and much more guarded when I mentioned children. But they clearly hadn't realized anything like that…"
"And that name, Bill Trimble—Trimble… isn't that the surname of the author of Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense? Forget it. Probably a fake name anyway. He was disguised when he came to see me."
"The information I have is still far too limited to draw any conclusions."
He exhaled slowly.
"If I want to keep investigating, I'll either have to secretly observe his reaction after installing the Anti-Apparition wards around that matchbox house… or start by digging into that interviewer named Tyler. Tyler… I don't think there's a Pure-blood family in Britain with that surname."
He needed to get to the bottom of this.
The Pure-blood families had only just taken a heavy blow—this was precisely the kind of period when something was most likely to happen. And if things were even worse—if someone really was planning to lay hands on children who hadn't even started school yet—
Then this needed to be pursued all the more.
…
"Thanks for that, Padfoot."
Deep within a dense forest.
The lush canopy blocked out most of the already scarce sunlight, casting the woods into a gloomy, almost oppressive darkness. Even the white snow blanketing the ground did little to dispel the atmosphere.
Remus Lupin stood shoulder to shoulder with his friend Sirius Black, wand in hand, his face ashen as he stared at the group of people bound tightly and sprawled haphazardly across the snow before them.
"If you hadn't helped," Lupin said slowly, "I'm afraid I never would have uncovered what was really happening here. I'd have been limited to what little rumor I'd heard—completely inadequate to deal with the situation now."
"So being an Animagus does have its uses,"
Sirius tried to make a joke, but the savagery etched into his expression left no trace of humor in his voice.
"These scum… once they lost their master, they actually became even more reckless."
"They never truly lost their master—you know that," Lupin replied, shaking his head stiffly, as if the cold had seeped into his neck. "Even Voldemort was never able to fully control them."
"It looks like I won't be able to continue teaching at Hogwarts next year. Honestly, if it weren't for the contract still binding me, I'd want to pull out immediately and handle matters here myself."
"Go teach in peace,"
Sirius snorted. "Leave this to me."
"Leave it to you?"
Lupin turned to his friend in surprise. "Don't forget—they were once Death Eaters. They should know who you are…"
"No, Moony—they don't."
Sirius cut him off, his expression mocking.
"The hierarchy within the Death Eaters is absurdly strict. Things like Pettigrew's affair were known only to the innermost core. And those people are either rotting in Azkaban now or were just crushed by Dumbledore—they've got no interest in working with this gutter trash."
"In other words, these people will all believe I'm exactly what I appear to be."
"A loyal, powerful Death Eater."
"A Death Eater approaching his former associates to discuss cooperation—what's so strange about that?"
(End of Chapter)