When Professor Babbling arrived at the outskirts of the hunting ground, Blake was already there.
Tiny glowing orbs hung from trees like fruit, bathing the area in soft, steady light. It looked like midday.
Blake stood with his back to her, fiddling with two rough wooden boxes.
"Professor, you're here?" he called, turning toward her.
"I've already spoken to Professors Kettleburn and Hagrid. We can use the space however we like tonight."
Professor Babbling raised the parchment in her hand. "How did you know I'd just finished part one?"
Blake smiled, setting aside the box. "I taught you many ancient runes. I know how fast you work. It wasn't hard to guess when you'd finish."
She gave him a look, half admiration, half exasperation. "You little monster... forget it. I'm used to it."
Blake sighed inwardly. That was the downside of his system—if he acted too capable, people stopped being surprised. And without surprise, earning treasure chests became harder.
He handed her a thick sheaf of parchment. "Here's the rune combination you asked for. Have a seat, have some honey water. I'll review these."
Babbling glanced to the side and, sure enough, a table with two chairs sat ready. A pot of honey water and two cups waited.
She sat but wasn't in the mood to drink. As Blake rapidly flipped through her parchment, she felt like a student again—waiting while a professor graded her paper.
It was unsettling. After all, she was the professor now, and he was a student. But she was learning from him.
That thought brought a sting of shame.
Blake skimmed quickly—too quickly. Each page held hundreds of rune combinations. Could he really be reading it all?
Soon he paused and pulled one parchment from the stack.
"How is it?" she asked, uncertain.
"Professor, this is excellent," Blake said with a grin.
She relaxed. At least her math was sound.
"That page..." she nodded toward it. "Was there something wrong with it?"
Blake raised the parchment. "This? No, nothing wrong."
"Then why did you mark those two groups?"
He pointed with his quill. "Because they're the only correct ones. All the others won't work."
Babbling froze. "You mean... all the combinations I tried—only two were correct?"
Blake nodded. "In fact, you amazed me. I didn't expect to find even one viable set in that pile. But you got two... almost three. You missed one."
Her fist clenched. "You mean you figured this out at a glance? Even remembered a missing set?"
Blake coughed. "Ahem, don't say your work was wasted. I told you—working as my assistant would improve your rune skills. Didn't this help you revise everything you've learned?"
She paused, then nodded slowly. "It did... I learned a lot. Discovered new combinations, applications I hadn't seen before."
"Exactly!" Blake beamed. "Didn't I keep my promise?"
Babbling scowled. "Still... there's no direct connection between this and your experiment. Why call me if you didn't need help? Were you just using this as an excuse to test me?"
Blake chuckled. "Didn't you say you wanted to develop a new rune doctrine? If you don't sharpen your skills, how will you lead it?"
She muttered, "With someone like you around, why do I need to do anything?"
Blake fell silent. "You still have to. I've got other things to handle."
Babbling noticed his change in tone. She realized it wasn't that Blake didn't want to help—it was that he couldn't. He had bigger responsibilities.
"Fine," she said at last. "I'll continue. But if I hit a wall, you have to help. In terms of ancient runes, you're actually my... teacher."
Blake rubbed his arms. "Professor, that gave me goosebumps."
She laughed, then swatted him with her parchment. "You brat! I was being sincere!"
"Alright," Blake said, picking up the two wooden boxes. "Let's get started."
"Are those Vanishing Cabinets?"
"Not imitations. I made two working ones for testing."
Babbling blinked at the rough craftsmanship. The true methods for making Vanishing Cabinets were long lost. Even ancient texts only held fragments.
The cost of materials, paired with low success rates, meant few dared attempt building them.
Existing Vanishing Cabinets were priceless antiques. Even the one in Borgin and Burkes—only half a pair—was valuable.
And Blake had restored two. Using ordinary wood.
She stared at the imperfect cabinets.
Blake mistook her silence. "They're a bit rough, I know. But this is just a test run. I had Hagrid get me some boards."
She shook her head. "How will you test them?"
"With different rune combinations in each cabinet, to see which ones allow teleportation."
He swapped out interior parts, carved two rune sets onto new inserts, then placed the cabinets ten meters apart.
"Let's start," he said, placing an apple inside one.
Meanwhile...
"Are you really going to do this? Even if it's the wrong decision?" Moody asked.
Scrimgeour stood tall. "Alastor, I know it's hard. But I must obey. Fudge is the minister."
"Rufus, you don't have to—"
"If Dumbledore were minister, I'd listen to him. But he isn't."
The Auror office bustled as Scrimgeour and several strike teams departed.
Moody's magical eye twitched. He knew what today was.
Dumbledore planned to clear Sirius Black's name. But Fudge intended to ambush Sirius before he reached the Wizengamot.
Because Sirius's wanted status hadn't been revoked, his arrest could be justified—even without trial.
Once caught, Sirius would be handed to the Dementors, just like before.
Later exoneration? Meaningless. The Daily Prophet, still a puppet of the Ministry, could spin any story. Public opinion was malleable.
And if Sirius died, Fudge's deal with the Shafiq family could proceed. Promises to goblins would be fulfilled.
Moody's heart sank. Was this what all his years as an Auror had led to?
"Alastor..." Tonks began.
"I'm fine, Nymphadora. But we need to warn Dumbledore."
"We can't. We're locked in. Not even an owl gets out."
Moody rubbed his brow. "Then... forget it."
"Forget it? We won't warn him?"
"Not what I meant. Dumbledore doesn't need a warning. Those fools have no idea how strong he is."
He looked her in the eye. "I tried to stop them not just because they were wrong. I didn't want them hurt."
"Do you think the greatest wizard of our age is some harmless old man?"
In the Minister's office, Fudge looked up. "What? Dumbledore came alone?"
Kingsley nodded. "Yes, Minister. No escort."
Fudge chuckled. "Ha! He didn't even bother protecting Black himself? That old fool."
Kingsley kept a straight face. Internally, he fumed. You're the fool, Cornelius.
Scrimgeour had only revealed the ambush plan minutes before deployment. By then, Kingsley couldn't warn Dumbledore in time.
He didn't understand why Dumbledore hadn't personally escorted Sirius. It didn't make sense.
At the Wizengamot's Inquisition Chamber...
"Albus, why are you here alone?" asked advisor Ephias Doge.
Dumbledore turned. "Ephias, I just came early. They'll arrive soon."
Doge frowned. "Fudge might intercept them! Without you, they'll take Sirius easily."
"He can't intercept them," Dumbledore said calmly.
He reached into his robes and pulled out a small metal disc.
"Please step back," he told Ephias.
He tapped the disc with his wand.
A surge of blue-white light burst out, forming an oval portal of crackling energy.