At this moment, an incomprehensible strength erupted from Mrs. Flamel's body, one that Krell simply could not understand.
Grabbed by the neck and lifted up by a pair of hands that weren't even that large, Krell found that for a moment he couldn't break free or even speak. All he could do was stick out his tongue and kick his legs as he struggled.
Off to the side, Emily, who had originally been wearing a resolute expression, finally couldn't hold back anymore when she saw Mrs. Flamel, and her eyes turned red.
After letting out a sob, she tried to go over and hug Mrs. Flamel, only to be roughly shoved away.
At this moment, Mrs. Flamel was like a ferocious lioness.
Her face, twisted and vicious with anger, made everyone instinctively lower their heads in guilt.
After all, although Link had previously entered the "Mike transformation state" on the battlefield and erupted with power that almost allowed him to stand toe-to-toe with Voldemort, no one dared to guarantee that Link would come back safely this time.
Voldemort, that was a dark cloud that had hung over the entire British magical world for more than ten years.
Everyone present had grown up hearing terrifying stories about Voldemort.
Even after being influenced by Link's ideological reformation, most of these people still only dared to refer to Voldemort as "the Dark Lord" to this very day.
And among all of them, Krell was undoubtedly the most uneasy.
It was he who had given the order to withdraw with the team ahead of Link.
From the standpoint at the time, his decision was not wrong.
Because back then, they had already become a burden to Link, and withdrawing as early as possible was what truly helped him.
But at this moment, these things were absolutely unspeakable.
Who knew how Mrs. Flamel, in her fury, would interpret what he had done?
In fact, Krell's worry was completely unnecessary.
Because Mrs. Flamel hadn't even considered investigating why these people had returned while Link had not.
At least, not yet.
With a large wave of her hand, a display cabinet in the corner flipped over, revealing a brand-new fireplace.
"Everyone, follow me back to Diagon Alley right now. I want to..."
"No!"
Before Mrs. Flamel could finish speaking, Krell ground his teeth and interrupted her.
If there was still a relatively good chance of Link returning alive while he was on the battlefield, then if Mrs. Flamel went, she would basically be going to her death.
That would directly cause the complete collapse of the Flamel family.
After all, if Link truly met with misfortune, the Flamel family would still need Mrs. Flamel to take the helm.
However, Krell overlooked one thing.
That was the fact that all of Mrs. Flamel's strength came from Link.
It was precisely because she had such a foolish son that she forced herself to do things that even her husband couldn't handle, and demanded perfection in everything.
Now that something had happened to Link, she had absolutely no interest in tending to other people or other matters.
Hearing Krell's voice, Mrs. Flamel didn't say a word. She simply turned around and looked at him coldly.
Beckman, who had been silent at the side the whole time, drew his wand and pointed it at Krell.
At the same moment, dense footsteps echoed around the chamber.
Dozens of old Saints wearing dark robes emerged from every corner, joining the few old Saints who had returned from the battlefield to completely encircle the Hunters along with Krell.
At the tips of their raised wands, eerie green light was already beginning to flicker.
All it would take was a single word from Beckman or Mrs. Flamel, and the Death Curses they were charging would pour out.
Seeing this, the Hunters, already heavily injured and depleted, immediately panicked.
Krell's face was filled with fear and unease.
As a centralized organization formed around Link as its absolute core, even bordering on personal worship, the flaws of the Flamel family were laid bare at this moment.
When Link was around, everything was fine.
Whether old Saints, Hunters, or even others with ulterior motives, everyone would unconditionally choose to submit.
But once something happened to Link, it was over.
The entire family would instantaneously fall apart.
If one had to put it into words, perhaps the current situation was still relatively acceptable.
At the very least, it was merely that the west wind had overwhelmed the east wind. Even if the Hunter faction were reduced or completely wiped out, the Flamel family itself would still exist, just significantly weakened.
Mrs. Flamel had none of Krell's sentimental hesitation.
From the moment she learned that something might have happened to Link, she had returned to the tough, ruthless woman who had controlled the Flamel family for over a decade.
She knew very well what her father was planning.
But she didn't care.
Because the act of Krell and the others returning by themselves was even more unforgivable.
Thinking this, the killing intent in Mrs. Flamel's eyes grew even heavier.
But just then, another powerful spatial disturbance rippled through the chamber.
Circles of distorted waves surged through the air as Sigefin and Newland appeared first, slamming heavily into the ground and immediately smashing their noses bloody.
Right after that, Link's figure slowly emerged from the ripples as well.
"Link!"
"Commander!"
"Head of the family!"
———
The tense, murderous standoff atmosphere inside the chamber instantly vanished without a trace.
Everyone screamed as they rushed toward Link.
Mrs. Flamel and Emily once again displayed astonishing, unnatural strength.
They quickly shoved aside any old Saints or Hunters blocking the way, firmly supporting Link as he landed unsteadily and nearly fell, then immediately began feeling over his body at lightning speed, checking his injuries.
Although Mike had shown extremely high combat proficiency during the previous battle, his reckless, life-risking style still left Link's body covered in bruises of varying sizes, dark blue and black. In some places, the flesh had even rotted away outright, this was the corrosive effect of Voldemort's blood lightning.
As they carefully counted Link's wounds, Mrs. Flamel and Emily's tears fell nonstop like strings of broken pearls.
Especially Mrs. Flamel.
Without having seen it with her own eyes, it was hard for her to imagine just how dangerous that battle must have been to leave Link so badly injured.
Link winced in pain at their movements, his face twisting, but he still reached out to wipe away the tears on their faces, and then couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh loudly.
The laughter was so wild that the Hunters, who had still been squeezing forward moments ago, all instinctively stopped and looked at one another.
But the next moment, they saw Link raise a pure gold cup high into the air.
It was Hufflepuff's golden cup.
And it was the ultimate objective of their mission.
The appearance of the cup reminded everyone of something.
Their mission this time had been a complete success.
And it was accomplished under the obstruction of both Aurors and Voldemort.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, deafening cheers exploded from the crowd.
Everyone who had experienced that battle looked at Link, standing at the center of the crowd, with fervent, worshipful eyes. Even the severely wounded forced themselves to sit up and cheer for him.
Only they truly knew what Link had done.
That was Voldemort.
A horrifying existence that, in just a few years, had reduced the British wizard population by more than thirty percent through death and emigration.
Most British wizards would tremble in fear at the mere mention of his name.
So what if that was the case?
Hadn't he just been defeated by their family head, Link Flamel?
Yes, precisely.
In the eyes of the Hunters, Voldemort had lost this round.
And most importantly, Link wasn't even twenty years old yet.
A boy under twenty already possessed power comparable to the very top figures of the wizarding world. If given a few more years to grow, what kind of extraordinary achievements might Link create?
No one present dared to make wild predictions.
All they could do now was cheer.
Newland and Sigefin stared blankly at Link, who was surrounded by the crowd, forgetting even to wipe the blood still flowing from their noses.
At this point, after seeing the cup in Link's hand, no matter how foolish they were, they already understood what had happened.
Even so, they still felt as if they were in a dream.
When it came to the outcome of the battle between Link and Voldemort, they actually understood it more clearly than anyone else.
Because at the very last moment before the teleportation, they had personally seen that terrifying pillar of light shoot into the sky and blast away nearly half of Voldemort's abdomen.
Something they wouldn't have dared to imagine even in their most absurd dreams had truly happened in reality…
"Long live Lord Flamel!"
Sigefin suddenly jumped to his feet, his face full of fanatic fervor as he began cheering.
And Newland, snapping out of it, leaned on Sigefin to support his trembling, weakened body and joined the ecstatic crowd.
At this moment, just like everyone else there, they firmly believed that Link would lead them to achieve their ideals, no matter how absurd or outrageous those ideals might be.
"Little Button! Little Button! Where are you? Go prepare things quickly, we're holding a celebration banquet!"
Along with Link's shout, the house-elf Little Button appeared out of thin air in front of everyone.
He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and bowed to Link and Mrs. Flamel, then shouted commands to the house-elves in the castle, setting them into motion.
Seeing this, an even louder cheer immediately rose from the crowd.
———
Everyone truly did need a banquet.
The earlier battle had placed far too much pressure on everyone, Link included, and he was badly in need of an outlet.
And so, after everyone received initial treatment and saw the massive spread of food laid out by Little Button, nearly everyone who could still move, aside from a few Hunters who were severely wounded and near death, threw themselves into the grand celebration.
All kinds of delicious dishes were eaten freely.
And alcohol, of course, was everyone's favorite.
Even though Mrs. Flamel and Emily kept urging Link and the other injured people not to drink too much, no one was willing to listen in the face of such a grand scene.
After hearing Link describe how Sigefin and Newland had released the Australian Opaleye to buy him a chance to escape, the two of them naturally became the most popular figures at the entire banquet.
Even Mrs. Flamel and Emily, their eyes still red, raised their glasses to toast them in thanks, let alone the mischievous Hunters who were eager to get the young men drunk.
The crowd's enthusiasm led to large numbers of Hunters passing out drunk even though night had only just fallen.
Unexpectedly, Newland still hadn't collapsed. He seemed to have an inhuman tolerance for alcohol.
Of course, it was also possible that he was cheating.
His face flushed, he struggled to pry off Sigefin, who was clinging to him like a pile of mud, and when he lifted his eyes, he saw that at some unknown point in time, a gigantic crystal Christmas tree had been erected in the center of the great hall.
The tree shimmered brilliantly under various magical lights, and beneath it were piled countless brightly colored gift boxes.
Newland knew very well that these gift boxes weren't just decorations.
He had personally seen Mrs. Flamel instruct people to load them with treasures from the Flamel family's private vault.
Anyone could freely go and pick a gift box they liked as their Christmas present.
This could be considered Mrs. Flamel's Christmas gift to everyone.
As one of today's greatest contributors, Newland was naturally qualified to take one as well.
But at this moment, he very unusually had no intention of touching the gifts. Instead, he gazed up dreamily at the dazzling Christmas tree.
"Today is Christmas Eve…"
Newland murmured to himself. Then he struggled to his feet again, kicked away Sigefin's hand reaching for him, and staggered toward the outside of the castle.
"Mr. Veld, are you looking for the restroom?"
A sharp voice suddenly came from beside him. Newland turned his head and saw Little Button, the Flamel family's house-elf butler, looking at him with bright, attentive eyes, his body angled clearly toward a certain direction.
Obviously, he was pointing out the way to the restroom.
This was something Little Button had done countless times today.
While wizards could use potions to cheat and negate the effects of alcohol, liquids consumed still had to be processed and expelled eventually.
Newland used his alcohol-slowed mind to think for a long time before finally realizing that Little Button was talking to him.
He remembered the last time someone had addressed him this way, it was on the Hogwarts acceptance letter delivered by an owl on his eleventh birthday.
After all, he had grown up without a father and was raised solely by his mother.
Under his own deliberate guidance, people either called him by his name directly or used insulting terms like bastard, trash, or Mudblood, his Muggle neighbors included.
So much time had passed that even Newland himself felt unfamiliar with this form of address.
"I… I'm going home."
After a brief moment of reflection, Newland said weakly.
Hearing this, a trace of difficulty flashed across Little Button's face.
Flamel Castle didn't have a shuttle service, and those who usually entered the castle never needed one.
Even when drunk like this, they typically had servants driving carriages to pick them up.
As for Hunters or old Saints, they would simply choose to stay overnight in the farm dormitories around Flamel Castle, which were also their temporary lodging when on duty.
But Newland clearly had none of those options.
The professionalism of a butler quickly allowed Little Button to hide his troubled expression. His large eyes blinked twice in quick succession as he said, "Mr. Veld, your current condition isn't suitable for traveling home alone. May I ask where you live? That way I can arrange for a carriage to take you back."
Anyone familiar with Newland would know that this question was extremely intrusive.
Newland regarded his home as something sacred. Anyone who pried into information about it would inevitably suffer his most ruthless retaliation.
And this retaliation was indiscriminate, Newland didn't care whether it was intentional or accidental.
But now... perhaps the alcohol had affected his brain too much.
After hearing the question, he turned again to look at the giant Christmas tree in the lively hall behind him, and murmured, "Spinning Street…"