Chapter 126: Chapter 126: Master of the Elder Wand

Arthur Hayes stepped from shadow into flickering firelight.

Still dressed in the same clothes he’d worn to St. Mungo’s—no time for battle robes, no wand visible in either hand. Yet ten cloaked figures took involuntary steps backward, as if his mere presence carried physical weight.

Aurora’s entire body sagged with relief. The knot of terror in her chest unraveled so fast she nearly sobbed. Safe. She was safe now.

The woman beside her—still trembling from aftershocks of the Cruciatus—watched Arthur with eyes that couldn’t decide between shock and disbelief. Her worldview had been shattered. First magic was real. Then torture beyond comprehension. Now the man who’d humiliated her in hand-to-hand combat had arrived to save her.

“Hayes—” Bellatrix’s voice cracked on his name, her wild eyes dancing between worship and madness.

“Wait.” He didn’t even look at her, blue eyes focused entirely on Aurora. “How did you stumble into a Death Eater raid? Did nobody teach you that green fire, floating skulls, and screaming typically mean ’run the other direction’?”

Aurora managed a weak smile. “Occupational hazard. See trouble, investigate trouble.”

“You should revise that policy.” His tone was lazy, but Aurora heard the steel beneath. “If they’d used the Killing Curse instead of wasting time, I might’ve been five seconds too late.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“See that you do.” His gaze shifted to the trembling woman. Recognition flickered—the nameless warrior hunting the Hand. Still no name and some strange turn of events had thrown her in Aurora’s company.

“And what’s she doing here?”

Aurora sighed. “Long story.”

Before Arthur could probe further, Bellatrix’s fraying patience snapped like overstretched wire.

“Don’t you dare ignore me—AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Green light erupted from her wand, the Killing Curse that had ended countless lives.

Arthur flicked his fingers.

The curse bent.

Not deflected—bent, like light through a prism, spiraling harmlessly into the night sky.

“I said wait.” He still hadn’t looked at her. “I’ll deal with your group shortly. Patience, Bellatrix.”

Bellatrix’s jaw worked soundlessly. No one simply… dismissed the Killing Curse. It was death given form. Unstoppable. Except Arthur had stopped it with the effort most people used to swat flies.

“Right then.” Arthur turned back to Aurora. “We’ll discuss your new friend later. For now—Winky!”

The house-elf appeared with her usual efficiency, taking in the scene with enormous eyes. “Master needs Winky?”

“Take these two back home.” A gesture toward Aurora and the shaken intruder. “They don’t need to see what happens next.”

“But—” Aurora started.

“No arguments.” His voice brooked no opposition. “Winky?”

The elf grabbed both women. Aurora caught a glimpse of her companion’s eyes going impossibly wide—teleportation was about to be added to tonight’s impossibilities—before reality compressed and they vanished with a crack.

Arthur’s pleasant mask never wavered as he finally, deliberately, turned to face the Death Eaters.

“Thank you for waiting.” His smile could have frozen hell. “Now, what should I do with you all?”

“We’re not afraid of you, mudblood!” A Death Eater found his courage, wand trembling only slightly. “You’ll die screaming!”

“Bold words.” Arthur tilted his head with academic interest. “But say them without hiding. I prefer seeing the faces of people I kill. Helps avoid awkward cases of mistaken identity.”

He waved one hand with lazy elegance.

Every mask flew off simultaneously, as if plucked by invisible fingers. Death Eaters stumbled, suddenly exposed. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange at Bellatrix’s side. Other lesser Death Eaters.

Arthur’s gaze swept over them, cataloging faces for future reference, until it landed on the youngest. A boy really, platinum hair and gray eyes wide with terror.

“Well, well.” Arthur’s smile widened. “Draco Malfoy. Lovely evening for a family outing with Aunt Bella. I was planning to find you anyway—how considerate of you to deliver yourself.”

Draco made a sound between a whimper and a prayer.

“KILL HIM!” Bellatrix shrieked, fear forgotten in rage.

The air exploded with death.

Killing Curses painted the night green. Blasting hexes that could level buildings. Reductos. Dark curses that rotted flesh from bone. And threading through it all, the hungry roar of Fiendfyre taking monstrous shape.

Arthur raised a single hand.

Invisible force slammed Bellatrix and Draco backward, pinning them against a brick wall thirty feet away. Safe from what came next.

Golden light traced geometric perfection in the air—a portal that opened like a hungry mouth. Every curse, every hex, every ounce of malevolent magic flew into that golden maw and vanished.

The Death Eaters’ eyes darted wildly. They’d seen this before, a year ago when their Lord had battled this man. They knew what came next.

As expected, another portal blazed to life directly above them.

“Scatter!” Bellatrix screamed.

They tried. But Arthur’s other hand was already conducting an invisible orchestra. Wind rose from nowhere—not a breeze, not a gale, but a localized hurricane that trapped the Death Eaters in its eye.

With nowhere to dodge, they raised shields as their own magic rained down.

The impact was cataclysmic.

Shields shattered like spun glass. A Reductor took one Death Eater in the chest, turning his ribcage into a window. Another’s own purple flame consumed him from within, his screams cutting off as his throat dissolved. The acid curse meant for Arthur ate through three Death Eaters before they could blink.

And then the Fiendfyre met Arthur’s conjured winds.

Fire and air danced a terrible waltz, creating a crematorium that walked. Bodies didn’t just burn—they were erased, consumed so thoroughly that not even ash remained.

Arthur stood, untouched and unmoved.

When the screaming stopped, he released the winds. The Fiendfyre, suddenly robbed of its partner, sullenly consumed what little remained before weakening.

Arthur turned to where Bellatrix and Draco had landed.

Both had regained their feet. Draco was shaking so violently his teeth chattered. Bellatrix’s face cycled through emotions too quickly to track—fury, fear, something that might have been awe.

She charged.

Not with strategy or skill, just pure rage given form. Curses flew wild, desperate, each one darker than the last.

Arthur deflected them with lazy flicks of his fingers. A Cruciatus bent around him. A Killing Curse dissolved into sparkles. A curse that would have liquefied his organs simply… ceased.

“Stupefy.”

The red light took her center mass. Bellatrix crumpled, unconscious before she hit the ground.

“Much better,” Arthur murmured, then turned his attention to Draco.

The boy held his wand in a trembling grip, pointing it vaguely in Arthur’s direction but unable to commit to casting.

“Expelliarmus.”

Arthur didn’t speak the spell—just thought it. Draco’s wand flew from nerveless fingers, performing a perfect arc to land in Arthur’s outstretched palm.

“Interesting.” Arthur examined the hawthorn wand before tossing it aside like garbage. Then, with deliberate ceremony, he drew another wand from his robes.

The Elder Wand. Death stick, knobbly and unimpressive until you felt the power thrumming through it.

The moment it touched his hand, Arthur felt the shift. Recognition. Acceptance.

Allegiance.

“Much better,” he said again, then focused on Draco. “Now, what to do with you?”

“Please.” Draco’s voice broke completely. “Please, I don’t want to die. I never wanted any of this. They made me—”

“I believe you,” Arthur said softly. “But let’s make sure, shall we?”

He drove into Draco’s mind—spellless, effortless. Memories tumbled: fear, bravado, boasting, but never true cruelty. He was a scared boy swept along by monsters. The initiation task from Voldemort—torture and kill a muggle family—that he’d failed spectacularly, requiring Bellatrix to secretly complete while he vomited in an alley.

Not innocent. But not irredeemable.

Arthur withdrew from the boy’s mind. “You’re lucky, Draco. Despite your best efforts, you haven’t actually become a monster yet.”

“Does that mean—”

“Stupefy.”

Draco collapsed. Arthur conjured ropes to bind him, then opened another portal with casual ease. He levitated the unconscious boy through it—straight into Grimmauld Place’s sitting room, where Sirius would find him soon enough.

Let Lord Black decide what to do with his wayward relative.

Now for the main event.

“Rennervate.”

Bellatrix gasped back to consciousness, immediately trying to reach for a wand that wasn’t there.

“Kill me,” she croaked. “Kill me now!”

“In time,” Arthur said softly. “But first, I need something from you.”

“Never! I’ll die before I give you anything!”

“Yes, yes, death before dishonor, very noble.” Arthur waved dismissively. “I was going to ask where you’d hidden the Horcrux after removing it from Gringotts. But now I don’t think that’s necessary.”

The blood drained from Bellatrix’s face so fast Arthur worried she might faint.

“The cup,” he continued conversationally. “Hufflepuff’s cup. You took it from your vault after Sirius’s attempt, didn’t you? Found somewhere safer?”

“You’ll never find it!” Triumph blazed through her terror. “I’ve hidden it where no one—”

“Really?” Arthur interrupted. “Because I can feel it from here. The darkness calls to darkness, and that particular darkness is very close indeed.”

“Impossible.”

“Is it?” He studied her with academic interest. “Did you keep it close because you wanted a piece of your master always with you? Or because you thought nowhere was safer than under your personal guard?”

“I would never be so foolish—”

A small black pouch floated free from her robes.

Bellatrix’s eyes went so wide Arthur could see white all around the irises. “NO!”

“An ordinary-looking pouch.” Arthur plucked it from the air. “Brilliant, really. Who would think to check a common money bag for a Dark Lord’s soul?”

“The enchantments—” Desperation cracked her voice. “If anyone but me tries to open it, everything inside will be destroyed!”

Arthur pointed the Elder Wand at the pouch.

The thing unraveled. Not physically—magically. Layer after layer of protections simply ceased to exist in seconds.

“That’s impossible!” Bellatrix fought against invisible bonds. “Those were blood-locked! Soul-sealed! Even the Dumbledore couldn’t—”

Arthur reached into the pouch and withdrew a golden cup adorned with badgers.

“Thank you, Bella.” He held Hufflepuff’s cup up to the firelight. “You’ve made this so much easier than expected.”

“YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM FROM ME!”

Golden light gathered around Arthur’s hands. He pressed them against the cup, and something dark began to emerge. A shadow given form, writhing and screaming in frequencies that hurt to hear.

“Say goodbye to a piece of your lord.”

The soul fragment fought desperately, but against Arthur, it was like a child fighting the tide.

With casual brutality, Arthur flung the writhing shadow into the still-burning Fiendfyre.

Flames roared. The soul piece shrieked—and died.

“There we are.” Arthur tucked the purified cup away—a priceless artifact, after all. “Another fragment down. Tom really should thank me for simplifying his existence.”

Bellatrix had gone catatonic, staring at where the soul fragment had burned.

“Now then.” Arthur stood, brushing imaginary dust from his clothes. “The question becomes: do I kill you here, quick and clean? Or send you back to explain how you lost his precious Horcrux?”

“Kill me.” The words barely qualified as whispers. “Please. Kill me.”

“No, I think letting you live would be crueler. Imagine explaining this failure. Imagine his reaction. Imagine—”

That would be much more interesting. Anyway, Voldemort could not create another Horcrux. His soul was fractured too much. But letting her run free with blood still on her hands…

As Arthur was debating his decision, multiple cracks of Apparition shattered the night. Aurors in scarlet robes appeared in tactical formation, wands raised.

Arthur smiled at Bellatrix’s catatonic form. “Let them decide your fate.”

He turned. And vanished.

The Aurors stood frozen, trying to process the carnage.

“Sir?” A junior Auror’s voice shook. “Is that… is that Bellatrix Lestrange?”

“Get the restraints,” the lead Auror ordered. “Maximum security. And someone put out those fires before they spread.”

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