Tethys was suddenly yanked sideways by an overwhelming force. She tumbled across the ground in utter disgrace, her head slamming into one of the boulders the giant had thrown earlier. Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp.
That single twist of fate saved her.
Hydrus's cutting curse sliced through empty air.
"Useless trash," an ancient voice rasped out, harsh and grating, like iron brushes scraping against one another. "You can't even handle something this small."
A squat, broad-shouldered old goblin stepped forward, his body shifting from illusion into solid reality.
Only part of him was flesh.
Three-quarters of a head, half a neck, and a complete right arm remained organic. Everything else was forged from metal—layered plates and artificial joints wrapped in heavy armor. The overall effect was grotesque, like an upright, walking crocodile-turtle.
Most striking of all was his enormous hooked nose, drooping nearly to the ground, paired with savage white brows and a mouthful of jagged teeth.
Hydrus recognized him instantly.
"Ranrok."
The very goblin who, a century ago, had orchestrated the rebellion—who had tried to seize the ancient magic sealed away by the Guardians.
Ranrok looked at her with surprise. "After that woman erased all traces of herself from the world… someone still remembers me?"
Hydrus shrugged. "If you remember her, why can't someone remember you?"
In truth, Hydrus knew almost nothing about him. She was bluffing—testing him, probing for information. From the moment he appeared, she had realized something troubling.
She couldn't read his mind.
"Hmph. Insolent brat. You dare speak to me like that?"
Hydrus tightened her grip on her wand, fully alert. "Weren't you killed by that woman?"
Ranrok's expression darkened.
It was the memory he hated most—the one his very being rejected. Even if he wanted to recall it, most of it was gone, as though someone had torn that stretch of time straight out of his mind.
Without the hatred anchoring him, he might not even remember "that woman" at all.
Sensing the killing intent radiating from him, Arthur Weasley hurried to Hydrus's side.
To be fair—while Arthur and Lucius Malfoy might look equally ridiculous in a fistfight, Arthur's magical combat strength was no joke. At minimum, he was worth a solid one-and-a-half Malfoys.
Ranrok snorted.
He clenched his right hand and flicked it.
Arthur felt an invisible force smash into him, flinging him aside like a rag doll.
At the same time, Hydrus felt her throat tighten as a chain of pure magic snapped around her neck, hauling her into the air.
Ranrok glanced at the unconscious Tethys.
As if to say: brute force is enough—why bother with schemes?
Then—
Hydrus grabbed the glowing chain with her left hand.
With a slight squeeze, it shattered like brittle glass.
In strength, I surpass you.
Before she even hit the ground, Hydrus launched herself forward like a cannonball.
You're missing half your body?
Then I'll smash what's left of it with dragon force.
Behind the mask, Hydrus fully unleashed herself.
Her form reverted—Hydrus becoming Hydrus once more: fire dragon transformation layered with a Dementor constitution. Her combat power surged to the brink of twenty Malfoys.
She broke the sound barrier.
The shockwave blasted outward, carving a deep trench through the mud.
Ranrok's eyes widened. He thrust both hands forward, unleashing a massive repulsive force.
A century ago, it might have stopped her.
Back then, his strength rivaled that of a dragon.
Now?
He had less than a quarter of his body—and far less magic.
Hydrus stalled for half a second.
Then she tore through it.
"Hmph!"
Ranrok reacted instantly. In a moment of razor-thin judgment, he Apparated, sliding three or four meters sideways with a sharp crack—barely dodging her charge.
Arthur had already staggered back to his feet. Ignoring the pain, he raised his wand.
"Stupefy!"
Ranrok lifted his left hand—the goblin-metal arm.
With a sharp hiss, Arthur's spell vanished, absorbed completely.
Arthur froze.
That hesitation was fatal.
Ranrok lifted his right hand.
Arthur was yanked into the air, suspended five or six meters above the ground.
The goblin slammed his palm downward.
Arthur plummeted headfirst.
"Dad!"
The red-haired children screamed from inside the tank.
At that speed, a broken neck would be the best outcome. He could be crushed into paste.
Hydrus halted midair.
She pointed her wand.
The ground beneath Arthur transformed instantly into a pool of water.
Thanks to a full year under Professor McGonagall, Hydrus could now pull this off. A year ago, she couldn't have.
Splash.
Arthur hit the water hard—but alive.
That single act, however, enraged Hydrus completely.
"Infinite Frost!"
A spell taken from Ancient Magic: Foundations by the Guardian Percival Rackham—a legacy of the Grey family.
Ice bloomed outward from Ranrok's feet, racing across the ground in a heartbeat.
The old goblin felt the cold seize him.
Bod Grey had used this spell on Hydrus more than once. She survived thanks to absurd magic resistance and an absurdly tough body.
Ranrok had neither.
Worse—metal conducts cold.
In less than a second, his body stiffened, frost creeping up his frame.
With a tearing sound, Ranrok Apparated again—this time beside Tethys.
He didn't escape unscathed.
One leg remained behind, instantly swallowed by blue-white ice.
He didn't even have time to breathe.
Hydrus's wand was already raised, power roaring into shape.
She slammed it downward.
A bolt of lightning as thick as an ancient tree trunk crashed from the sky.
The explosion shook the earth, blasting a crater rivaling a 125mm shell impact.
Hydrus rushed to the edge and looked down.
Nothing.
She exhaled slowly.
They had escaped.
Goblin metal doesn't turn to ash under ancient magic. The empty crater meant only one thing—they Apparated away at the last possible instant.
Arthur climbed out of the water, cleaned himself with a quick charm, and hurried to Hydrus's side.
Hydrus removed her mask and stowed the pouch, then pointed at the goblins sprawled across the field.
"Arthur. Three of them are still alive. Take them to the Ministry for interrogation. The goblins may be planning another rebellion."
Arthur nodded.
"Also," Hydrus said after a moment, "how are your relations with the other pure-blood families?"
Arthur scratched his head awkwardly. "Not great. Most of them see us as… as…"
She cut him off gently. "I know."
The Weasleys didn't care about the label, but saying it out loud was still humiliating.
"Then please inform the families you're on good terms with," Hydrus continued. "The day after tomorrow, at two in the afternoon, I'll be holding a wizarding bank planning conference at the ruins of Gringotts' headquarters in Diagon Alley. Invite them."
"I'll pass it along."
"And of course," Hydrus added, "that includes the Weasley family."
Arthur hesitated. "Er… our finances aren't great. I don't think we can help much with a bank."
"Arthur," Hydrus said calmly, "trust me. You won't regret attending."
"…All right."
They climbed back into the tank. No one felt like visiting the Lovegoods anymore, so they headed straight home.
Fred and George volunteered as drivers. Hydrus sat back, enjoying the quiet.
Yet her mind was anything but calm.
The engine roared. Metal rattled. Each sound rippled across her thoughts.
Cornelius Fudge.
The fourth time.
The fourth time he had leaked her movements to the goblins—leading to an ambush that nearly got Arthur Weasley killed.
From the moment Molly knitted her a sweater and scarf, Hydrus had counted the Weasleys as family.
Harming her family carried consequences no lighter than touching her gold.
She had planned to remove Fudge from office in early August.
But now—
Cornelius Fudge.
You're digging your own grave.