"Well, this time I'm here on critical business. These items were placed under my direction by the Dark Lord himself," Julia Travers stated, her voice tight with self-importance, as she handed Lucius Malfoy a heavy, securely wrapped package.
"You are to guard them well. Your manor is the least conspicuous location, and your vault is sufficiently protected. Do you understand the gravity of this? It signifies your master's profound trust, which is a singular honor."
Lucius immediately recoiled slightly at the mention of the Dark Lord, his veneer of aristocratic composure momentarily cracking. "Truly? Thank you for the high privilege of serving the future ruler of the magical world, Julia. It is an unparalleled honor, Sire," he said, adopting a tone of exaggerated, fawning respect before scurrying off to securely hide the package.
Julia remained, granting Narcissa a rare, genuine smile. "By the way, Narcissa, how has your sister Bella been lately? I haven't seen her in what feels like ages."
"She is constantly at the Dark Lord's side, of course; I haven't been granted an audience with them in quite some time," Narcissa replied, a hint of envy in her tone. "However, I heard that her husband, Rodolphus, has been tasked with preparing a secondary hideout, a secret base, in the Purple River Valley in County Surrey. Perhaps you and I will have an opportunity to meet them there soon, once the new regime stabilizes."
After the two women exchanged a few more minutes of guarded, political pleasantries, Lucius re-emerged from the depths of the Manor, holding a slender, shimmering crystal in his hand.
He approached Julia, handing the crystal to his sister. "I recall the Travers family possesses something unique. My father acquired this object from an Egyptian sorcerer decades ago. It's supposed to be a prototype rune, exceptionally rare. Unfortunately, my father experienced a curse shortly after acquiring it, so he never finished deciphering its true potential before his death. Now, the magical essence of this old Recording Crystal is degrading, and I cannot safely transfer the data to a new medium. You can transfer the contents to that new crystal you're carrying."
Julia accepted the crystal and shot Lucius a look of pure disdain. "Look at you, Lucius. You lack ambition. You can't even properly safeguard your own father's most important legacy."
Lucius pursed his lips, choosing not to rise to the bait. He knew his magical aptitude was limited, which was precisely why he had to rely on Julia's more daring, more magically proficient connections to maintain his standing.
At that moment, the vivid scene of Malfoy Manor dissolved once more, clouds of confusion swirling as Anduin completed his forced foray into Travers's mind.
Anduin withdrew his focus, the mental strain manifesting as a dull throb behind his eyes. "The Purple River Valley in County Surrey, eh? Very close to where the Longbottoms were attacked. That's almost certainly their current hideout. And these 'noble' pureblood families truly do hoard the most fascinating—and dangerous—items."
Though only seconds had passed in the physical world, Sampur Travers felt as though he had endured an entire day of relentless probing. The man before him had seen his deepest family secrets. A rush of shame and pure, incandescent rage flooded his system.
"How dare you!" Sampur screamed, his voice strained and high-pitched. "How dare you trespass into the secrets of the noble Travers family!"
"Ha! In my eyes, you and your so-called noble pureblood families are nothing more than a pathetic joke," Anduin retorted, throwing Travers to the ground with a casual flick of his wand. He kicked the boy hard, the blow snapping the boy's head back against the stone floor. "You should be asking yourselves how you dared to provoke me."
With another fluid movement of his wand, Anduin released the remaining six students—three unconscious and three still suspended in silent terror—allowing them to crash unceremoniously to the floor.
Anduin smiled at the cluster of defeated Slytherins, his expression cold and unforgiving. "I don't have time to clean up your mess today. You've wasted enough of my resources and time already. However, I am confiscating all of your wands for my trouble." He gestured to the pile of seven wands tucked into his belt. "If you wish to redeem these—your first, most precious wands, after all—each of you must prepare a ransom of twenty Galleons. Consider this a fine for insolence."
He gave one final, dismissive laugh, then turned on his heel and strode out of the abandoned restroom, his mission accomplished.
Travers watched Anduin go, his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding with a hatred so potent it was physically painful. He punched the stone floor in impotent fury, then instantly winced, clutching his hand to his chest.
"What do we do now?" a young pureblood, trembling with lingering fear, asked the room. He was still reeling from the sheer, overwhelming brutality of the attack.
"What else is there?" Travers spat bitterly. "First, we wake up that pathetic fool Wilkes. Then, we coordinate our response."
Wilkes groaned, slowly emerging from the stunner. "What? That man took all our wands?" he cried, the full extent of the humiliation sinking in.
"Yes, Elder Wilkes. That man is an oppressive menace. He not only brutalized us but outright stole our property!" another complained.
"Damn it! Why don't we report this to the Headmaster? He started it! We'll get the wands back, and then we'll find a way to deal with him," suggested the fourth-year wizard, eager for quick resolution.
"No, you idiot, we can't! We cannot allow this humiliating defeat to become a public scandal," the wiser fourth-year countered immediately. "Besides, without catching him in the act, he'd only get a slap on the wrist from Dumbledore—a few points deducted, maybe a night of detention. That bastard might destroy our wands in a fit of rage! We have to handle this politically."
"Correct. We need to go to the source of power," Wilkes declared, pushing himself up, his eyes burning with a vengeful fire that momentarily overcame his pain. "Let's go find Chief Yaxley. He will know the correct channels to retrieve our property and ensure that mudblood pays a hundredfold, a thousandfold, for the humiliation we suffered today."
"And Travers!" Sampur shouted, his voice thick with a mixture of betrayal and fury after his memory violation. "He dared to expose the secrets of our family vault! I will make him pay with his blood!"
"Yes, he must pay with his blood!" the group echoed, their hatred uniting them once more, momentarily forgetting their own individual pain.
The group gathered their strength and stumbled out of the abandoned restroom, heading menacingly toward the Slytherin Common Room.
Moments after the last of the Slytherins had gone, a small, whimpering sound emerged from one of the dilapidated toilet stalls. Moaning Myrtle, the resident ghost, floated out, her spectacles misted with fear.
"Oh, how utterly terrifying! That little wizard scared Myrtle half to death!" she wailed, dabbing her spectral tears. "It's a good thing I hid so well, or I could have died again." The palpable, chilling aura of focused anger that Anduin had emitted had been enough to freeze even a ghost in her tracks.
The group eventually reached the Slytherin dormitory, finding Raleigh Yaxley, the current student leader of the pureblood faction, in his private room. They recounted the events in breathless, exaggerated detail, focusing heavily on Anduin's brutality and the theft of their wands, while strategically omitting the initial provocation and Wilkes's aggressive throat-cutting gesture.
Yaxley listened to their tale, his expression shifting from detached amusement to profound disgust.
"Let me understand this correctly," Yaxley said, his voice slow and heavy with disbelief. "All seven of you—the core of the House—were defeated and disarmed by a second-year half-blood, a boy who learned his spells in a Muggle boarding school? You didn't even manage to cast a single hex before he immobilized you? You have truly disgraced every pureblood wizarding family at this school!"
"But, Yaxley, this guy is utterly ruthless! He said he'd come after you next!" Wilkes lied, desperately trying to divert the criticism and inflame Yaxley's pride.
"Hmph! You ignorant little brat," Yaxley sneered, glaring directly at Wilkes.
"The guy is incredibly arrogant. You have to take action for us, Chief! We must find that child tonight and teach him a brutal lesson!" Travers urged, his fear now entirely subsumed by white-hot vengeance.
Yaxley narrowed his eyes, contemplating the situation. He was more intelligent than his followers. He knew the internal politics were delicate.
"No," he finally said, speaking in a low, deep voice that commanded attention. "We cannot move against him here. Professor Burns—that insane, Gryffindor-sympathizing Head of House—has been watching me like a hawk. And more importantly, Vanessa will absolutely rush to his defense, and Dumbledore would only give us solitary confinement for assaulting a younger student."
"Then what do you suggest we do? We can't just let him get away with this!" Wilkes demanded, stomping his foot.
"We wait until he leaves Hogwarts," Yaxley stated, his expression chillingly calculating. "I know all of you have been tracking his movements. Christmas is fast approaching, which means he will undoubtedly leave the school grounds for the holidays. Keep a close watch on his itinerary. We will intercept him after he leaves school and neutralize him where Dumbledore's jurisdiction cannot reach."