“Related to… him?”

The vampires and Aurors throughout the hall stared at Fawkes in collective astonishment, their expressions ranging from confusion to shock. They couldn’t understand why a bird, even a phoenix, magnificent as it was rather than a sentient magical creature like a sphinx or a centaur could speak with such clear human intelligence.

But Amelia understood immediately, recognition flashing across her face. This was the voice of Hogwarts’ Headmaster, the Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, the greatest wizard of their age—Albus Dumbledore himself.

Somehow, he was speaking through his pet across thousands of miles.

Once the initial surprise passed, Sirius’s attention cut straight through the shock to the core meaning. Dumbledore was clearly trying to hide something by not speaking plainly, by using vague pronouns instead of names.

But Sirius, who knew Dumbledore’s concerns well, suspected that this “he” was most likely Voldemort! What else could make their headmaster so carefully guarded?

“It has nothing to do with him, Headmaster Dumbledore—”

Bryan replied calmly. He met those powerful blue eyes emanating from the phoenix.

“It concerns a different wizard from history, someone who once used this same magic centuries ago. The way he employed this particular magic was rather unusual compared to the standard method, as was the vessel he chose to house his soul—”

“Oh, really?”

The interest in Fawkes’s brilliant blue eyes intensified visibly, the pupils dilating with fascination despite the grim circumstances.

“You haven’t mentioned a single word of this to me, Bryan. Not in any of our conversations.”

“My apologies, Headmaster Dumbledore—”

Bryan remained completely unmoved by the implicit blame.

“The time hasn’t come yet to share this particular story with you. There are reasons for my silence that you’ll understand eventually.”

Sirius, who had been listening in growing confusion, trying to piece together this cryptic exchange, suddenly felt a shift in understanding. His expression changed, eyebrows rising as memory connected to present. His gaze toward Bryan shifted.

He recalled vividly their adventure to Azkaban together last summer that dreamlike, almost surreal experience where he had actually encountered the memory forms of Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw themselves. Meeting the Founders had been beyond comprehension, beyond anything he’d thought possible.

Following the ethereal memories of those two legendary founders, they had explored the hidden underground chambers beneath Azkaban Island. That entire journey had left Sirius deeply puzzled, his mind was churning with questions he knew better than to ask. But he knew it involved profound secrets Bryan was trying to conceal.

So, he had sworn to keep everything secret, to tell absolutely no one what had happened during that expedition.

But Bryan’s reaction at the time had been quite thought-provoking. Sirius still remembered clearly that when he’d sworn to keep the secret, Bryan had told him something that had seemed odd—if he ever disappeared one day, if he simply vanished without explanation, then tell Dumbledore everything.

“The time hasn’t come yet.” Bryan had just said something remarkably similar to Dumbledore, using nearly identical phrasing.

Sirius’s lips moved as if to speak, questions forming, but in the end, he restrained his burning curiosity. Now was neither the time nor the place for such inquiries.

“Headmaster Dumbledore.”

A low, hoarse voice sounded from across the hall, cutting through the tension. Graves stared eerily at the magnificent phoenix perched on Watson’s shoulder, his eyes taking on an almost excited gleam.

“If it’s Albus Dumbledore himself speaking through that bird… ah, I understand now—”

Graves revealed a ferocious smile that showed too many teeth

“This is your trump card, isn’t it, Watson? Your secret weapon? You secretly brought Dumbledore to New York—though in the form of a bird rather than in person? How clever. How disappointing.”

“I deeply regret that we should meet under such tragic circumstances, Mr. Graves.”

Dumbledore’s sigh echoed through the shattered hall.

“I still remember three years ago, at the International Confederation of Wizards organized a major conference on how to better ensure the safety of ordinary citizens in the magical world. Samuel Quahog brought a speech to that conference, reportedly written by you personally. It contained some remarkably wise and compassionate suggestions.”

“Oh, really?”

Graves’s tone was openly mocking, and dismissive. “I’ve already forgotten.”

Dumbledore wanted to say more, but Bryan interrupted him with quiet firmness.

“His grasp of this magic is incomplete, Headmaster. He’s allowed too much of his essential humanity, too much of his rationality to leave his soul. It’s been torn away by the dark magic.

Hoping he can genuinely repent for his actions is no longer possible—not because he won’t, but because he can’t. The capacity for remorse has been removed. Even if he truly could repent, if some miracle granted him that ability, he cannot reclaim what he’s lost. His soul cannot be made whole again—”

Bryan looked toward the vampire progenitor standing beside Graves like an exquisite wax statue, utterly motionless.

“The damage is permanent and irreversible.”

“Repent?”

Graves bared his teeth in a snarl, revealing a forest of white fangs that seemed longer than they should be.

“Before long, you’ll all be kneeling before me in submission, repenting of your disrespect toward a great master! I will reshape this world into something better!”

Sirius was about to retort with cold mockery, to point out the absurdity of such grandiose claims. To claim dominion over the contemporary magical world—probably no one living had the audacity, nor more importantly the actual strength to back such audacity, to make such grandiose claims before Dumbledore and Bryan standing together.

But when he saw Graves’s wrist turn with motion and another wand appear in his palm, Sirius’s expression immediately darkened with recognition and alarm.

“That’s your wand, Bryan!”

Amelia exclaimed urgently, her voice rising with concern. She had personally confiscated Bryan’s wand and recognized it immediately.

“Dumbledore.”

Sirius also realized something crucial, his mind racing through implications. He turned toward the phoenix with urgent concern.

“In your current form, possessing Fawkes from such distance—how much of your power can you actually wield?”

“Very limited, I’m afraid—”

Dumbledore chuckled softly.

At this point, most of the Aurors scattered throughout the hall had also come to their senses. Because Bryan Watson and Albus Dumbledore, two of the most powerful wizards alive stood before them, they had instinctively relaxed their guard, had felt a wave of relief wash away their fear.

But now, thinking about it more carefully and analytically, the situation remained desperately critical. Perhaps even more dangerous than before.

Dumbledore hadn’t come in person at all—he was thousands of miles away, watching through his pet’s eyes. Even if he had come personally, the over-one-hundred-year-old Dumbledore, who hadn’t fought publicly in half a century—how much combat strength he still possessed seemed genuinely uncertain.

And while Bryan Watson would normally inspire tremendous confidence, his wand was currently in Graves’s hands! A wizard’s wand was the focus of their power, the tool through which they channeled their will. Without it, even the greatest wizard was severely handicapped.

“Take this—”

Realizing these troubling facts, Amelia immediately stepped forward and offered her own wand to Bryan without hesitation, extending it handle-first. Her brown eyes reflected unwavering determination and complete trust.

“No matter what evil magic he’s learned, no matter what he’s done to himself, I believe you can stop him!”

Bryan glanced at Amelia with an expression that was difficult to read, then raised an eyebrow slightly. Finally, he smiled warmly at her.

“Thank you for your faith in me, Amelia. But I don’t think I’ll need it—”

“Don’t need it? You don’t need a wand?”

Graves laughed, the sound coming sharp and mocking. He held Bryan’s wand up, displaying it like a trophy.

“Does this mean you already know that before the current me, before what I’ve become, you are powerless? That you’ve prepared yourself to die by your own wand? How poetic that would be!”

Dumbledore remained silent, merely watching Graves with deep sorrow emanating from Fawkes’s blue eyes. Bryan, however, extended his hand toward Graves in an inviting gesture, almost casually. His palm was open, fingers relaxed.

“If you truly think you can kill me, then please—by all means, try your best—”

Selena’s brows immediately shot up in alarm, her eyes widening. She knew Bryan Watson was a rarely powerful wizard—the Daily Prophet across the ocean had been reporting on his accomplishments at considerable length for quite some time, building his reputation to almost mythical levels.

But… did he actually intend to face Graves, who seemed to have mastered some powerful evil power and supposedly achieved immortality, without even a wand?

That was beyond confidence; that was recklessness bordering on suicidal.

Pursing her lips tightly, Selena stared at Bryan’s back with rising concern, already preparing to intervene. But before she could voice her thoughts or step forward, Uriel reached out and gently pulled her wrist, subtly shaking her head in a silent gesture of restraint.

As if he’d had enough of Bryan’s mystification, tired of games and posturing and cryptic confidence, Graves lost any desire for further words or dramatic speeches.

His eyes went cold and sharp as he gazed at Bryan standing calmly several dozen feet away, apparently defenseless. He tightened his grip on the wand that rightfully belonged to his opponent, feeling its power thrumming through the wood, and slowly raised his arm in the classic dueling stance—

“Unless you have the same inexplicable ability as that Harry Potter, prepare to meet your death, Watson!”

After his fierce roar that echoed through the ruins, Graves resolutely swung down the wand with all the force of his conviction!

Time seemed to freeze in that instant, everything slowing to a crawl.

Except for those vampires who had been turned against their will by Graves’s betrayal and now stood around looking panicked and uncertain about their fates, Sirius, Amelia, and the Aurors of MACUSA all wore expressions of alarm.

Many couldn’t help but begin raising their wands instinctively, trying desperately to block the incoming curse for Bryan, to throw up shields or countercurses.

“Avada Kedavra!”

The moment the wand descended, as the spell formed on his lips, Graves felt utterly calm—more peaceful than he’d felt in years.

He believed with absolute certainty that Bryan Watson would die under his spell, would fall before the Killing Curse powered by his own wand. Along with Watson, the phoenix possessed by Dumbledore would also perish later.

As for the rest of them, these shocked Aurors and confused vampires, he didn’t intend to kill them all. If they were willing to submit to his authority, if they would accept his leadership, he could lead these vampires and Aurors together to create a magical world even more perfect than the present one.

A world where death no longer held dominion, where power was properly concentrated.

However, this beautiful fantasy was interrupted before it could fully form in his mind, and Graves’s confident expression froze completely!

He stared in rising horror at his right hand, at Bryan’s wand clutched in his whitening fingers. He could feel an overwhelmingly powerful force suddenly surging from deep within the jet-black wand—a force he couldn’t resist at all, couldn’t even slightly control!

The wand was fighting him, rejecting him with violent intensity!

Crack!

A fleeting golden lightning bolt, obscured everyone’s vision in a flash of lighting. The light was so intense it even momentarily dispelled the crimson moonlight shrouding the earth, turning night into an approximation of day!

Amelia could only hear utterly miserable screams and the rushing sound of wind like something burning fiercely, consuming itself in fire!

When she finally overcame her blurred vision, blinking away the afterimages and tears, and looked eagerly and anxiously toward where Graves had been standing just moments ago, she found with shock that Graves had completely vanished.

Not collapsed, not injured—simply gone.

Where he had stood confidently, where he’d raised Bryan’s wand to cast the Killing Curse, only a small cluster of golden flames still burned steadily on the ground.

————————————

For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep