Shafiq realized something was wrong the moment the goblin contact vanished. Even he, for all his foolishness, sensed impending doom.
If that man had disappeared, then he had been abandoned by the goblins.
Had they lost confidence in their scheme? Was the bet now seen as unwinnable?
But the game wasn't over yet. A glimmer of hope remained. So long as neither side conceded, the wager stood. And in a wager, there must be a victor.
"Mr. Shafiq, since you insist on continuing, please proceed with your next question," Blake said calmly. "Don't waste everyone's time."
Shafiq had no choice. Caught in the middle of a collapsing plan, he had to gamble. If he admitted defeat now, he'd be finished. His ties to the Ministry severed. The goblins would drain his vault and cut him off. Gringotts belonged to them, after all.
His only hope was to win—to prove his worth. That would buy him time, and possibly, redemption.
What Shafiq didn't know, however, was that he had already been written off. The goblins had pegged him as a disposable pawn in their failed attempt to seize the Blake estate. Even Fudge, as corrupt as he was, couldn't keep someone so blatantly compromised.
The goblins had weighed their options. Shafiq's modest stash meant nothing compared to the Blake family's immense fortune. When Blake derailed their scheme, they lost everything, and Shafiq's seat in the Wizengamot was the final casualty. Now, the goblins simply used Shafiq as a tool—to harass Blake out of spite.
Shafiq, unaware, steeled himself for one last desperate move.
"Fine! Listen well," he shouted, face flushed. "The curse I want you to create is... the reverse 110 curse of Avada Kedavra!"
Gasps rippled through the hall.
Outrage. Shock. Disbelief.
He had asked for the impossible.
Avada Kedavra—the Killing Curse—was an Unforgivable Curse precisely because it had no counter. It ended life instantly, irreversibly. There was no coming back from it. Harry Potter was the sole exception, a once-in-history anomaly.
Demanding a counter-curse was like demanding resurrection.
"Blake, this is absurd. You don't have to entertain this," Dorje snapped.
"Shafiq, this is madness!" added Dean Bohan, appalled. "You know no such spell exists."
"Connelly, are you really going to let this continue?" Dumbledore's usually calm eyes burned with fury.
Linji shrank back from his gaze.
Fudge, feeling the pressure, finally stepped forward. Despite his frustration with Blake for disrupting plans, he knew Blake had powerful backers—Grindelwald chief among them.
"Shafiq!" Fudge barked. "You've gone too far. This is no longer a fair wager. We've tolerated your antics long enough. This ceremony is sacred, and you're making a mockery of it."
"Keep this up, and I'll have grounds to remove you myself."
But Shafiq couldn't see beyond his fear. He believed the goblins still had his back. He clung to that hope, thinking his defiance might save him.
He was wrong. The goblins had already discarded him. He just didn't know it.
"Heh... I know it's impossible," Shafiq admitted, grinning. "But can you blame me? That boy talks too big. Tell me—did I break the rules?"
Blake answered evenly. "No, you didn't."
Dumbledore hesitated, alarmed. "Blake…"
Blake raised a hand, smiling. "It's alright."
Shafiq blinked. "You're serious? You're really going to try to invent a spell that brings someone back from the dead?"
It sounded insane, but Blake had already done the impossible more than once. Who else could develop a revolutionary potion in one minute?
Blake chuckled. "Don't worry about what I can or can't do. Just answer me this: are you certain you want me to create such a counter-curse?"
Shafiq's confidence wavered. Blake's calmness unnerved him.
"I... I'm sure."
"Very well. I accept."
Gasps erupted again. Blake had agreed. Was he mad?
But Blake knew what he was doing.
"Alright, go ahead and try," Shafiq sneered, though sweat dotted his brow.
Blake grinned. "Just one problem—don't we need a test subject? Someone freshly hit by Avada Kedavra?"
Shafiq blinked. "Uh… maybe get a prisoner from Azkaban?"
Blake shook his head. "A week ago, Sirius was an Azkaban prisoner, accused of heinous crimes. What if we wrongly kill someone again?"
Fudge coughed, annoyed. The implication didn't sit well.
Shafiq tried again. "Then... an animal? A pigeon, perhaps?"
"No, Mr. Shafiq. Our bet is between us. We shouldn't involve innocent lives—be they human or creature."
Shafiq was cornered.
"Then what do you propose?" he asked.
"Simple," Blake replied with a smile. "This is between us. So one of us must die."
He pointed at himself. "I can't die—I'm the one researching the spell. So... that leaves you."
"If I fail, I'll concede defeat and forfeit the Order of Merlin. But you'll have to meet Death."
Shafiq paled. "What if you fail to bring me back?"
"Then you'll be dead, but your victory will be honored. The Ministry will surely provide a funeral befitting your restored position."
Realization dawned. Shafiq had been tricked.
"You! Bastard!" he yelled, drawing his wand.
"Whoosh!"
"Boom!"
A spell hit Shafiq mid-lunge, hurling him backward into a pile of flowerpots.
A voice rang out from the door.
"Why don't you want to die, Mr. Shafiq? I can help. I'm quite proficient with the Killing Curse."
Heads turned. Grindelwald entered, dressed immaculately, wand in hand.
"Blake, my dear boy," he said. "You didn't invite me to your ceremony. I'm offended."
Ignoring Shafiq groaning on the floor, he approached Blake on stage.
Blake stared in dismay. Last time, Grindelwald had only revealed their connection to his inner circle. Now, he seemed ready to announce it to the world.
And with so many Daily Prophet reporters present…
Then again, it was Grindelwald's paper. He could shape the story however he liked.
Blake forced a smile. He had no idea how to respond.
Grindelwald's arrival surprised many—but for someone of his stature, it wasn't entirely unexpected. The elders in the room parted instinctively. They remembered him well. Respected him. Feared him.
Except Dumbledore. He stood his ground.
"Move aside," Grindelwald said coolly. "I don't want to argue today."
"You shouldn't have come at all," Dumbledore replied, just as cold.
"Hmph. You're here—why shouldn't I be? Look what happens when I'm gone: some worm dares to challenge Blake."
Grindelwald's eyes narrowed. "Is this your idea of a test, Albus? A potion in one hour? A counter-curse to Avada Kedavra?"
He marched over to Shafiq, who was barely standing, grabbed him by the collar, and pointed his wand at his neck.
"Let's continue your little bet. I'll kill you, and Blake will bring you back. Don't worry, it won't hurt. Probably just a bit dizzy."
Shafiq turned ghost-white. He had no doubt Grindelwald would actually do it.
"No! I give up!" he screamed. "Blake has already proven himself! I surrender!"
Grindelwald released him, adjusting his collar gently. "You gave up on your own. That's important."
Shafiq's legs nearly gave out. He had seen the tip of Grindelwald's wand flash green.
Grindelwald turned to Dumbledore and sneered.
"See? When dealing with filth like him, just act. Why let children suffer needlessly?"
He muttered, "Tsk. And you think you're fit to mentor a child like Blake? Maybe I should."
Shafiq heard that and nearly collapsed again.