With the groundwork laid, Alex summoned several ravens. Each bird clutched bundles of thin tubing in their talons or beaks, fluttering silently into the third floor through the chimney. Upon arrival, the ravens sprang into action. Two of them adjusted the thick tube, pulling it carefully out of the fireplace, while the others busied themselves connecting the thin tubes to the diverter. The connectors were secured with metal nuts, forcing the ravens to tighten them one by one using their beaks.
By the time the setup was complete, Alex was drenched in sweat. Controlling multiple ravens simultaneously while remaining completely silent was no easy feat. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily.
Once the tools were ready, Alex directed the ravens to carry the thin tubes to the doors of each bedroom. With painstaking care, he guided the tubes through the cracks under the doors, one room at a time, ensuring not to disturb the doors and risk triggering an alarm. His hands trembled slightly from the strain, but he kept his focus sharp.
When all the preparations were complete, Alex opened the valve on the gas cylinder. Asphodel vapor began to flow through the main pipe, the diverter, and the thin tubes, seeping into each room. He glanced at his pocket watch, mentally calculating. "Inhaling this at a concentration of 3% for more than two milliliters will cause unconsciousness," he murmured under his breath. "Judging by the size of these rooms, they should be out cold in three minutes. Just to be safe, I'll wait four. Can't afford any mistakes." His gaze darkened. "Let's hope none of them have heart conditions. If they do... well, that's their bad luck."
*Asphodel is main material for Draught of Living Death. Its properties are associated with sleep, death-like states, and potent magical effects.
Alex recalled his earlier reconnaissance of the house. The rooms had been restructured with temporary magic, creating five uniform spaces that didn't quite fit properly within the frame of the house. This made the doors loose, with wider gaps at the bottom—perfect for his plan. The windows, sealed tightly, made ether the ideal choice to incapacitate his targets.
When four minutes elapsed, Alex quickly shut the valve and sent a raven to peck lightly at one of the doors, testing the reaction. No movement. He repeated the test twice more, but the house remained eerily silent. A small grin broke across his face. "Looks like it worked," he muttered, wasting no time as he disassembled the gas setup. After securing the cylinder and putting on a gas mask, Alex prepared to move in.
Using a floating spell, Alex hovered up to a window overlooking the third-floor living room. A quick unlocking spell opened the latch, and he slipped inside. Warning magic flickered faintly, indicating that the house's defenses were still active, but Alex wasn't worried. Their masters were already unconscious.
The magical surveillance device—a spinning glass orb suspended in the living room—emitted bright flashes and sharp whirring noises, alerting anyone nearby of a breach. Alex froze it effortlessly with a spell, its frantic movements halting instantly.
Moving quickly and efficiently, Alex bypassed the flickering lights of warning spells and unlocked the nearest bedroom door. Inside, a Death Eater lay unconscious. Without hesitation, Alex snatched the wand from the sleeping figure's side and bound him with a spell. A flick of his wrist opened the windows, allowing fresh air to rush in and disperse the lingering ether. The volatile fumes made him uneasy; any spark could ignite them.
He repeated this process in each of the five bedrooms, taking wands, binding the unconscious Death Eaters, and ventilating the rooms. Once the task was done, Alex moved the incapacitated individuals to the second floor, ensuring they were out of sight, and closed the curtains. Only then did he begin dismantling the house's security spells.
The Death Eaters appeared to have inhaled an overdose of Asphodel, remaining deeply unconscious. Alex checked their vitals—no signs of life-threatening harm. Satisfied, he turned his attention to the house itself, layering it with silencing and shielding spells to prevent any noise from leaking out during the next phase of his plan. By the time he finished, his pocket watch read midnight. "Six hours until dawn," he muttered, steeling himself for what came next. "I'd better get moving."
Alex approached the unconscious Death Eaters, his face calm but his movements brisk. From his pocket, he retrieved an enchanted hammer he jokingly called the "No Damage Hammer." Without hesitation, he delivered a smash to each of them, jolting them awake.
"Ahhh!" The room erupted in screams and panicked cries as the Death Eaters stirred, their eyes wide with fear and confusion. Alex stood over them, his face illuminated by the dim light of the room, a sly grin spreading across his lips. "Good morning," he said casually. "Let's have a little chat, shall we?"
Everyone was jolted awake by a sharp, searing pain. In the dim light, they could barely make out one another's faces, but no one could figure out what had happened. Just moments ago, they had been sleeping. How were they now lying on the cold, hard floor of the second floor? Struggling to rise, one of them realized he was restrained by thick, glowing chains of magic. No matter how much he squirmed or tugged, he couldn't move an inch.
Suddenly, the room was bathed in light. A glowing orb of magic hovered above them, illuminating the space like daylight. The sudden brightness stung their eyes, forcing them to squint and shield their faces before they could adjust. The light revealed a sparsely furnished room with a single shelf on one wall, filled with strange and ominous tools.
The sound of metal clinking together broke the tense silence. A calm yet unsettling voice followed, dripping with mock courtesy. "Oh, sorry about that," the voice said. "I forgot you all can't see in the dark. Let me fix that for you."
As their vision adjusted, they saw a young man standing casually near the shelf. He had dark hair and a handsome but cold face. The tools on the shelf beside him were far from ordinary—pliers, long metal picks, a device resembling a clock, chains, a thick syringe, and empty potion bottles lined up neatly. Each item seemed more unsettling than the last.
"Who are you? What do you think you're doing here? Let us go! Someone, help!" Karkaroff shouted, panic rising in his voice as he struggled against his chains. His eyes darted around the room, looking for any sign of escape.
The young man, Alex, didn't even flinch. He continued to arrange the tools in his hand, his tone calm and almost amused. "Help?" he echoed with a small chuckle. "You think help is coming? That's cute."
Yaxley, his face red with anger, snarled, "You filthy little worm! Do you even realize where you are? How dare you barge into the Travers family's private estate! You must have a death wish!"
But before Yaxley could continue his tirade, another voice cut through his rant. "Enough, Yaxley." Torquil, calm and calculating, spoke up. "You're just wasting your breath. This boy clearly planned all of this. Barking at him won't do us any good." Turning his gaze to Alex, he added with a smirk, "We've met before, haven't we? King's Cross Station, wasn't it? What's your goal here?"