The Wizengamot session had been a calculated victory, a small but significant pushback against the fear-mongering that threatened to corrode magical Britain from within. My voice, though new, didn't went unheard in the grand chamber, and to my pride it went against two truly abhorrent pieces of legislation. It was a reaffirmation of my decision to engage more directly, to exert my influence where it truly mattered. As I stepped into the Ministry's central Floo network hub, a sense of weary satisfaction settled over me. The hustle and bustle of late-night Ministry workers was a familiar hum around me, a stark contrast to the quiet, determined authority I had projected just moments before.
"Castle Starborn!" I articulated clearly, dropping a pinch of shimmering Floo powder into the green flames. The world dissolved into the familiar, exhilarating rush of emerald fire, spinning me through the magical transport network. The journey from the Ministry to Castle Starborn was usually a smooth, almost instantaneous transition, a brief kaleidoscope of sensation before the quiet warmth of my personal Floo greeted me.
But this time, something was wrong.
The usual smooth flow became erratic, a violent lurch that threw my senses into disarray. The comforting green of the flames twisted, corrupted by streaks of angry, unnatural violet and crimson. My magical resonance sensing screamed in alarm, registering a profound, hostile magical interference. The very fabric of the Floo connection, usually inviolable, was being violently hijacked.
My Untethered Will instinctively surged, trying to reassert control, to stabilize the corrupted connection, but the force was too great, too sudden. It was a precise, brutal magical assault on the Floo line itself, designed to wrench me out. I felt a crushing, disorienting pull, as if a giant, invisible hand was tearing me from the magical current.
The familiar sensation of being pulled through space intensified to a sickening degree, ending not in the warmth of my castle hearth, but with a jarring, brutal expulsion. I was violently ejected from the Floo, tumbling end over end through cold, open air, my robes whipping around me. The impact with the ground was bone-jarring, sending a shockwave up my spine. I hit hard, rolling several times through cold, wet grass before finally coming to a stop, my head throbbing, my magical senses reeling from the sudden shock.
I lay there for only a split second, adrenaline already pumping, my body screaming. My magical resonance sensing, though still recovering from the forced ejection, immediately registered a chilling truth: I was in an open field, under a moonless, starless sky. And the air, already heavy with the scent of damp earth, hummed with a pervasive, hostile magic.
An ambush.
Before I could even fully scramble to my feet, the air around me shimmered, and a series of prohibitory wards snapped into place with a sickening thrum. My magical resonance sensing confirmed it: anti-Apparition wards, incredibly dense and layered, cutting off all magical escape routes. Anti-Disapparition wards, preventing me from escaping even if I managed to Apparate into the very heart of them. The entire field, a vast, desolate expanse, was now a magical cage.
Then, figures emerged from the shadows at the edges of the field, encircling me. At least a dozen of them, cloaked figures, wands raised, their faces obscured by deep hoods. Their magical auras were cold, aggressive, and undeniably aligned with Grindelwald. They were Grindelwald's acolytes, here for me.
"Marcus Starborn," a harsh, raspy voice sliced through the cold night air. The voice belonged to the largest figure, whose aura radiated a raw, unrefined power. "A pity your journey was cut short. Grindelwald sends his regards."
My mind, still reeling from the unexpected ejection, snapped into focus. They knew my name. They had anticipated my route. This was no random attack. This was precise, calculated. I cursed my momentary lapse of vigilance, my assumption of safety within the Ministry's Floo network.
I surged to my feet, my wand already in my hand, though my preferred method was wandless magic. My Draconic combat instincts took over, overriding the pain and disorientation. My magical resonance sensing spread outwards, mapping the magical field, pinpointing each opponent's position, assessing their individual power levels. They were skilled, but not the elite of Grindelwald's inner circle. More likely, a dedicated strike team, perhaps under the command of one of his higher-ranking lieutenants.
"Grindelwald rarely acts directly," I stated, my voice calm, projecting a confidence I didn't fully feel in that moment. I needed to buy time, to assess their numbers, their formation, their specific warding. "A sign of his cowardice, perhaps?"
The lead figure chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "A sign of his wisdom, Starborn. Why waste powerful resources on a fledgling? You actions made you... inconvenient to our cause. And your little trip to Austria did not go unnoticed."
So, they knew about Klarwald too. This was a direct retaliation. My blood ran cold, but my focus sharpened. They were here to kill me, or capture me, to make an example.
"Your methods are crude," I retorted, letting a hint of disdain creep into my voice, baiting them. "Hijacking the Floo? Amateurs."
"You'll learn about our methods soon enough," the leader snarled, raising his wand. "Now, taste our response to you actions!"
"STUPEFY!"
Four stunning spells, thick ropes of red light, shot towards me simultaneously. My wandless magic reacted instantly. A shimmering Protego shield bloomed around me, deflectng the spells with a resounding CRACK, sending sparks flying into the night. But even as the shield held, I felt its strain. They were coordinated, attempting to overwhelm me with sheer numbers.
I didn't wait. My shield dissolved, and I flowed into motion, a dark blur against the faint grey of the field. My precision stunning spells, cast with silent, wandless magic, were my immediate response. I didn't aim for the lead figure; he was too heavily warded, too prepared. I targeted the two closest acolytes on my left flank.
Whoosh! Two invisible, needle-thin currents of force shot out. They hit their marks with brutal precision. The first acolyte dropped like a stone, his wand clattering to the ground. The second stiffened, his eyes rolling back, before collapsing. Two down, ten to go. They hadn't even had time to scream. My magical resonance sensing confirmed they were completely incapacitated, not merely stunned.
"Curses!" the leader roared. "He's fast! Don't let him move!"
More spells erupted. Blasting curses, Disarming Hexes, Full Body-Bind curses – a torrent of uncontrolled magic. I didn't try to block everything. My masterfully honed combat instincts kicked in, guiding my movements. I moved with blinding speed, weaving between curses, dodging, twisting, using my wandless magic to create subtle air currents that deflected spells by mere inches. A powerful Blasting Curse tore a divot from the ground where I had stood moments before.
My counter-attacks were swift, targeted, and utterly silent. I focused on breaking their formation, creating chaos amongst their ranks. A Confringo charm, precise and contained, exploded a fist-sized chunk of earth near one acolyte's feet, sending him sprawling. As he struggled to regain his footing, a silent Expelliarmus ripped his wand from his grasp, sending it spiraling into the darkness.
"He's using wandless magic!" someone yelled, fear entering their voice. "Fall back, close ranks!"
They began to coalesce, forming a tighter circle, wary now of my silent attacks. This was exactly what I wanted. A concentrated target.
"You speak of wisdom, you fools," I sneered, allowing my voice to carry, drawing their focus. "You walk blindly into an open field against a wizard who can crush you without a word."
My words were a distraction. As their attention momentarily focused on my taunt, my wandless magic began to weave a more complex, powerful charm. I felt the raw energy of the field, the pervasive fear emanating from them, the hostile magic of their wards. I reached deep into my Draconic core, drawing on a power I rarely unleashed in its raw form.
"Fulgari!" I uttered, my voice a low growl, echoing unnaturally in the open field. It was not a spell most wizards knew, a highly potent Starborn incantation, amplified by my Draconic magic, focusing pure, raw magical lightning.
A blinding flash erupted from my hand, not a single bolt, but a shimmering, spiderweb of crackling blue-white lightning that arced outwards, lashing indiscriminately at the closest acolytes. It was a wide-area effect, designed to disrupt and incapacitate. The scream that followed was sharp, brief, quickly cut off as three of the acolytes convulsed violently, their wands flying, their bodies collapsing, smoking faintly where the lightning had touched them. They were alive, but utterly incapacitated, their nerves overloaded. Five down.
The remaining acolytes stumbled back, terrified. The lightning had been a shock, a display of power far beyond what they anticipated. The leader, his face now visible under his hood, was contorted with fury and a flicker of fear. "He's too powerful! Overwhelm him! Kill him!"
Now, they came at me with less coordination, more desperation. Avada Kedavra! a chilling voice screamed.
My magical resonance sensing registered the deadly green flash a millisecond before my eyes could perceive it. My wandless shield charm was already there, thicker, more robust than before. The Killing Curse struck with a sickening thud against the invisible barrier, dissipating harmlessly. The impact sent a tremor through my arm, but the shield held. This was a true fight now.
I moved forward, a living, breathing weapon. My wandless precision stunning spells became a constant barrage, neutralizing acolytes one by one. I disarmed with unseen force, then followed up with a silent bone-breaking curse to a wrist, effectively taking their wand hand out of commission. No need for killing, not yet. But utter incapacitation was paramount.
The leader, realizing his forces were dwindling rapidly, became desperate. He began casting a series of rapid-fire, dark curses – Crucio, Sectumsempra, spells designed for maximum pain and destruction. My Draconic reflexes were pushed to their limit. I dodged, twisted, sidestepped, letting his curses tear up the field around me, creating craters and tearing through the remaining acolytes who were caught in their own leader's indiscriminate fire. He was sacrificing his own.
One acolyte, desperate, lunged at me, attempting a physical assault. My Draconic strength, usually held in check, surged. With a single, brutal, wandless telekinetic push, I sent him flying backwards, slamming him into one of the anti-Apparition ward lines. The impact, combined with the ward's raw magical resistance, knocked him unconscious instantly.
Now, only the leader remained. His face was twisted in a snarl, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was bleeding from a graze on his cheek, a stray piece of debris from his own reckless curses. "You will not escape, Starborn!" he shrieked, his wand glowing with dark energy. "The wards! They will hold you!"
"The wards are only as strong as your pathetic magic makes them," I retorted, my voice low and dangerous. "And your magic is weak."
He launched a massive, arcing Blasting Curse, raw power, uncontrolled, aimed directly at my chest. I didn't deflect. I didn't dodge. My wandless magic enveloped me in a layer of pure A'kren manipulation, forming a temporary, ultra-dense Deflection Shield designed not just to repel, but to absorb and redirect energy. The curse hit, slamming into me, but instead of exploding, it dissipated into nothingness, its energy absorbed by my shield.
The leader stared, his eyes wide with disbelief, his terror now palpable. He had never seen such a thing. My magical resonance sensing showed his magical signature flickering, wavering with exhaustion and fear. He was broken.
"This is over," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion. My Untethered Will flowed, condensing the absorbed energy from his own Blasting Curse.
I unleashed it back at him, not as a destructive blast, but as a concentrated, internal magical shockwave. No flash, no sound. He simply seized up, his eyes bulging, his wand clattering to the ground. He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, trembling uncontrollably, then collapsed, utterly incapacitated, his mind and body overwhelmed by the sudden magical overload.
Silence fell over the field, broken only by the whistling wind. I stood amidst the fallen acolytes, all neutralized, all incapacitated. The pervasive hum of the prohibitory wards was still there, a constant reminder of my trap. I was still caged.
My magical resonance sensing swept the entire area again, confirming no hidden surprises, no lurking reinforcements. They had committed all they had, and it wasn't enough. Now, for the escape.
The anti-Apparition wards were multi-layered and incredibly dense, designed to repel any attempt at breakthrough. Normal wizards would be trapped. But I was not a normal wizard.
I closed my eyes, focusing my Untethered Will to its absolute peak. I began to sense the A'kren (essence) of the wards themselves. They were designed to block rapid displacement of magical matter. My strategy was not to break them by force, but to disrupt their fundamental understanding of my presence.
I slowly began to compress my own magical signature, drawing it inward, making it incredibly dense, almost infinitesimally small, a tiny, undetectable singularity. Then, with a sudden, explosive burst of concentrated Nahl (flow), I would force my way through, like a needle punching through silk, overwhelming the ward's processing capacity for a micro-second, before it could react. It was a gamble, requiring immense magical control and a precise, instantaneous burst of power.
I focused, gathering all my energy, feeling the familiar, burning cold of my Draconic core surging. The invisible walls of the wards pressed against me, resisting, trying to crush my will.
"Hah!" I exhaled, the sound a low growl, and then, with a single, massive surge of my Untethered Will, I launched myself.
The world twisted. Not the pleasant Floo spin, but a violent, wrenching sensation, like tearing through reality itself. I felt the wards shriek in protest, a cacophony of magical feedback that threatened to tear my mind apart. For a horrifying fraction of a second, I felt utterly, completely disoriented, lost in the chaotic void between magical states. Then, with a final, tremendous pop, I was through.
I landed hard, stumbling, almost falling, but I remained on my feet. The air was different here. Colder, certainly. And the hum of the prohibitory wards was gone, replaced by the faint, distant sounds of civilization. My magical resonance sensing confirmed it: I was outside the ward perimeter. I had done it. I had Apparated out of an impenetrable magical cage.
I took a moment to get my bearings. The stars, now visible, showed me I was far from Castle Starborn, but thankfully, I could discern the faint glow of distant lights. A town. Not a major wizarding hub, but a populated area connected to the floo network nonetheless. My immediate priority was to reach safety, to find a place to lay low and assess the situation.
I began to walk, my body aching, my magic drained but still flowing. The exhaustion, held at bay by adrenaline, began to set in. My thoughts, previously a whirlwind of tactical decisions, now turned to the aftermath.
They knew about Klarwald. This was a clear message from Grindelwald. He saw me as a direct threat. This wasn't just about politics anymore; it was personal.
My primary concern now was to inform the Ministry, but not directly. Not yet. I couldn't risk revealing the details of Dumbledore's mission to general Ministry channels. My immediate destination, once I reached a safe, populated area, would be a public Floo point. From there, I would Floo back to Castle Starborn.
The walk was grueling. My body, though magically resilient, had taken a beating. The expulsion from the Floo, the constant spell-casting, the immense exertion of breaking the Apparition wards – it had all taken its toll. But my mind was already racing, analyzing every detail of the ambush, planning my next steps.
Finally, I saw it: a small, unassuming pub, its windows glowing warmly, a tell-tale green flare of a public Floo chimney visible through the window. I pushed open the door, blending in as much as possible, my mind already calculating how to act normal despite my aching muscles and the lingering scent of ozone from the magical lightning.
A quick pinch of Floo powder. "Castle Starborn!"
The familiar emerald flames enveloped me, a welcome warmth after the brutal cold of the ambush. This time, the journey was smooth, instantaneous. I stumbled out into the grand hearth of my castle, the familiar scent of ancient stone and aged parchment enveloping me like a comforting blanket.
I was home. Safe. For now.
My first act was to check the outer wards of the castle, extending my magical resonance sensing to its farthest limits. They hummed with their usual strength, undisturbed. Grindelwald's acolytes hadn't followed me here.
My thoughts immediately turned to Dumbledore. He needed to know. This ambush confirmed Grindelwald's reach, his awareness of covert operations, and his willingness to use extreme measures. I made my way to my study, lit by the comforting glow of my enchanted lamps.
I pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and my self-inking quill.
Professor Dumbledore, I began, my hand steady. My return from the Ministry was intercepted. I was ejected from the Floo network into an ambush. A dozen of Grindelwald's acolytes, led by a capable lieutenant. They knew my name, and they knew about Klarwald. I managed to neutralize them and break through their prohibitory wards. I am safe at Castle Starborn now.
This confirms Grindelwald's network within Britain, and his ability to intercept even Ministry-protected Floo lines. It also suggests a new level of awareness concerning our operations. I will remain at the castle for the immediate future to assess security and plan countermeasures.
Your advice regarding informing the Ministry would be appreciated. I am hesitant to reveal the full extent of the ambush to general channels, given the compromised Floo network and the potential for leaks. Perhaps a discreet approach through your office?
I await your owl.
Marcus Starborn.
I sealed the letter with my signet ring, the Starborn crest pressing into the wax. I tied it to one of my fastest owls, instructing it to fly directly to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, bypassing any Ministry stops.
As the owl disappeared into the night, I poured myself a generous measure of firewhisky, the warming liquid a welcome balm to my aching muscles. I stood by the large, arched window of my study, gazing out at the dark, silent expanse of my ancestral lands. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about how this was no doubt the counterattack against the mission I did for Dumbledore and how I should have expected such things. The weight of what happened today settled on my mind as I slipped into my bed drifting off to the real of Morpheus.