Watching Aglaia disappear into the woods, Hoffa leaned against the tree trunk, gazing at the sky. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his trembling hands clenching into fists.
The rush of adrenaline kept his mind in a state of intense focus and tension. Yet the fear of facing death alone made him shudder uncontrollably.
Would she come back?
Or would she not?
Hoffa didn't know.
If he had a choice, he wouldn't entrust his life to Aglaia. He didn't want to trust someone who had always opposed him.
If she abandoned him and ran off on her own, he wouldn't be surprised. Hoffa could never predict what she would do. Everything she did seemed aimed at getting him expelled.
As much as he hated to admit it, he and Aglaia were similar—both self-centered Ravenclaws. The only difference was that Aglaia flaunted her self-interest openly, while Hoffa kept his hidden.
Perhaps that was precisely why they loathed each other so much.
Hoffa didn't know what choice Aglaia would make.
But he had no choice.
Collaboration was his only option.
At that moment, countless chaotic and nonsensical thoughts raced through his mind, as though hundreds of voices were whispering incessantly to him.
"She'll never come back," one voice muttered.
He opened his eyes and let out a sigh, the warm breath from his lungs condensing into wisps of mist in the crisp late autumn air.
His numb fingers slowly regained feeling.
The starlight above was brilliant.
The whispers gradually faded into nothingness.
They were the shadows in his heart. Strangely, once he made his decision, those shadows seemed to dissipate.
A peculiar strength filled him, allowing him to face his fears and confront his true nature.
Was it love?
Hope?
Yes.
And yet, no.
It felt more like a release from a life of numbness, a step toward understanding himself.
Behind him, the infernal sound of the phantom monkey echoed again. It leaped between the treetops, each jump bringing it closer to Hoffa's hiding spot.
Hoffa stood motionless, silently channeling his meditation technique. Every bit of restored magic mattered.
Finally, the phantom monkey found him. It perched on a tree just ahead, cocking its head in excitement as it stared at him.
Hoffa gave it a cold glance and continued meditating with all his might.
A few seconds later, footsteps approached from behind.
Despite the phantom monkey pointing them in the right direction, the two dark wizards advanced cautiously.
"All you know is how to hide?" Schmidt's soft yet icy voice cut through the stillness of the Forbidden Forest.
"Face me."
Hoffa didn't move. He continued restoring his magic.
Schmidt paced slowly, his voice laced with mockery.
"How could a coward like you belong at Hogwarts? Has Dippet added a new house for weaklings?"
Hoffa paid no attention to the insult. But Schmidt's voice was now only ten meters away. The enemy could strike at any moment—there was no room to retreat.
Halting his meditation, Hoffa stepped out from behind the tree.
Schmidt raised his hand immediately, stopping his subordinate beside him.
The two stood face to face in the middle of the forest.
The night was oppressively dark. Strange growls and bird calls echoed faintly from the surrounding trees. The forest floor was dotted with clusters of faintly glowing mushrooms, their luminescence the only light in the Forbidden Forest.
Schmidt stood ten meters away, his figure shrouded in shadow, while Hoffa leaned against a fir tree.
Above him, the tree's branches were teeming with hunched-winged creatures, their hungry eyes fixed on Hoffa. At Schmidt's command, they could tear him apart in an instant.
But Hoffa knew Schmidt wouldn't act—not yet. He'd keep him alive until he got what he wanted.
"Not enjoying the effects of magical overexertion, are you, boy?" Schmidt's soft voice carried a cruel edge.
"Push yourself one more time, and you might turn into a vegetable."
Schmidt's tone was gentle, yet devoid of any warmth.
From the first time Hoffa had seen him, Schmidt had worn the same emotionless expression, as if someone had severed the nerves in his brain responsible for feeling. His face was more mask than flesh.
"You can try," Hoffa replied, gripping his wand tightly and flashing a defiant smile.
He had no intention of fighting. His only option was to buy time through conversation.
Schmidt tilted his head slightly.
"I've killed many wizards, but I must admit, you're the second most troublesome I've encountered. What's your secret? How do you escape unscathed every time?"
"Second?" Hoffa said mockingly. "I'm disappointed not to be first."
He glanced briefly toward the deeper part of the Forbidden Forest.
(Two minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of Aglaia.)
"What's your name?" Schmidt asked, stepping a little closer.
"Tom Riddle," Hoffa replied without hesitation.
"Tom, is it? I admire your talent and abilities. Come with me. This place isn't suited for someone like you—it stifles your potential."
As Schmidt spoke, Hoffa felt his mind waver. There was an odd power in Schmidt's words, making him want to relax, to trust him.
Biting down on his tongue, Hoffa tasted blood, the sharp pain snapping him back to clarity.
Months of meditation practice had paid off. His mental resilience was strong, rendering Schmidt's charm ineffective.
Fixing his cold gaze on Schmidt's gray, lifeless eyes, Hoffa said,
"What's the deal? What's in it for me?"
He had no intention of agreeing but needed to keep the conversation going.
Four minutes had passed, and Aglaia was still nowhere to be seen.
"Benefits?" Schmidt tilted his head again.
"I doubt you're from a pure-blood family. What do you think Hogwarts will teach you? They'll mold you into a soldier and send you to the battlefield to serve the Ministry and the British elite."
Schmidt took another step forward.
"You'll become a pawn of the old pure-blood families, a puppet controlled by Dippet. Is that the life you want?"
He stepped closer again. The distance between them shrank to just five meters. Hoffa's heart pounded. His toes curled against the ground, his fingers digging into the tree's bark.
Above him, the saliva of the hunched-winged creatures dripped onto his shoulders and hair.
"Truly capable people never settle beneath others. Those so-called pure-blood aristocrats will inevitably fade with time. That is the course of history."
Schmidt tilted his head, his voice calm and measured.
"The world of wizarding families will eventually dissolve. It will become a world of individuals, and Hogwarts will follow suit."
"Is that so? Who taught you that?" Hoffa asked, his fingers gripping the tree trunk tightly.
"Tom, you're on the wrong side. We could strive together for a greater cause—follow me and walk in the footsteps of the great Gellert Grindelwald." Schmidt's lips curved into a rare, chilling smile.
"I don't know who Gellert Grindelwald is," Hoffa replied cautiously.
"You will, soon enough, Tom."
As Schmidt spoke, he stepped closer.
(Five minutes had passed. Hoffa's heart sank slowly from its anxious height. The forest was silent—Aglaia had not returned.)
"Can't you give me a moment to think? My mind's a bit scattered," Hoffa said.
Schmidt stopped, his expressionless face mechanically twisting into a faint, unnerving smile.
Time ticked away.
With every passing second, a shred of hope seemed to be stripped away from Hoffa.
Six minutes.
Doubt crept into Hoffa's heart. Perhaps he had trusted the wrong person. Perhaps no one would come to help him. Maybe everyone was inherently self-serving.
The lofty eagle soars alone, destined for solitude.
"Have you decided?" Schmidt asked as he slowly drew his wand.
Above, the hunched-winged creatures opened their mouths wide. One flick of Schmidt's wand would spell Hoffa's death.
Seven minutes.
Hoffa sighed in despair, loosening his grip on the tree.
"You've won. Take me away."
"Hoffa!!"
A sharp cry pierced through the dense forest.
Turning his head, Hoffa saw Aglaia, breathless and stumbling through the woods.
She bent her body into an arc and hurled a gleaming vial of light with all her might.
"Catch!"
It was the restorative potion!
Hoffa's eyes lit up instantly.
She really came back!
It was as if a weary traveler in a desert had stumbled upon an oasis. A sudden surge of unseen energy propelled him forward.
He watched the potion bottle arc through the air, his hand instinctively reaching for it.
But Schmidt's lips curled into a knowing smirk. As if expecting this, he moved with lightning speed, flicking his wand.
A silver arc of energy, like a charged whip, lashed through the air, striking the glass bottle with precision.
Smash!
The vial shattered into fragments, glittering shards raining down.
Hoffa froze mid-leap, his hope shattered along with the glass. Schmidt had been wary all along, never letting his guard down.
Lowering his wand, Schmidt turned his icy gaze to Hoffa, whose outstretched hand hung in the air.
"Did you think losing one rabbit meant I wouldn't have a backup plan?" he said softly.
Hoffa's expression stiffened as a chilling premonition swept over him, freezing him from head to toe.
Spinning around, he shouted at Aglaia, "Run!!"
But it was too late.
ROAR!
A thunderous growl erupted as a massive beast emerged from the dark forest.
It was the size of a fully grown lion, brimming with ferocity—a juvenile Venom Leopard, Schmidt's pet.
With its enormous maw lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth, it lunged at Aglaia like lightning.
In one swift motion, it clamped down on her upper body, devouring her whole.
Crunch!
One bite. Torn in half.
(End of Chapter)
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