Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 279 The Gap in Strength, Helplessness and Despair

"Distract him!" The mysterious man made a decisive decision.

How can we distract him?

"John Mill!"

Upon hearing this, the other four people instinctively glanced at Vaughn's side, at the traitor C.

Mouth open!

Competitors can be compromised, enemies can be made friends, but traitors are hated by everyone.

At the start of the battle, Vaughn Weasley was forced into a defensive position because John Mill suddenly discovered his presence and revealed his location, allowing the five of them to launch an immediate attack.

On the other hand, it was also because Vaughn Weasley was distracted and caught John Mill, who was about to escape from the basement, that he lost the initiative.

This shows that, whatever the reason, Vaughn Weasley doesn't want to let John Mill go!

The four immediately understood the "mysterious man's" plan—

Save John Mill and make him draw Weasley's attention!

In the blink of an eye, the five wizards divided their tasks in perfect harmony. Three of them used their most skilled magic to attack Vaughn, while the other two used spells like Curse Stop to break the spell on John Mill, who was pinned to the ground and unable to move.

John Mill was the first to notice the change.

The magic binding him is loosening, and he can move one of his hands!

"Jon Locomoor!"

John Mill strained with all his might, stretching out his hand and pointing it toward his lost wand.

A faint light bounced and flickered in the air between his fingers and the wand. The wand, which had been silent, immediately responded to its wizard from a distance. It "jumped" into the air, its tip pointing at John Mill.

"Locomoor" is a general command spell used in the modern spell system to encompass the concept of "movement". It is used in any command spell related to "movement", such as the Leg Locking Spell (spell: Locomoor Mori) and the Stone Slab Move Spell (spell: Pieroum Locomoor).

In John Mill's curse, he commands himself!

As powerful magic poured down, John Mill felt his previously bound limbs suddenly begin to move on their own.

Every bone and every muscle seemed to suddenly possess an independent life and the ability to think.

Bone friction, muscle peristalsis.

John Mill slithered across the floor like a snake, while simultaneously remotely controlling his wand, making a slight gesture, pointing it at Vaughn, and uttering a new spell.

The sounds of wind and thunder suddenly descended upon this underground space, and thick clouds of mist appeared from nothing and spread out in the time it takes to breathe.

Moisture was generated, initially just a spark-like current, which, accompanied by a sudden roar, stretched into a huge, long snake, leaping and bursting out from the dense clouds.

Slash at Vaughn!

A pale flash illuminated Vaughn's expressionless face. Facing the violently attacking electric snakes, he finally withdrew his hand that was pointing at John Mill. Magical light flickered between his fingers, and a strange sphere, like a flat circle or a cylindrical hole, took shape in front of him.

The electric snake struck it, but it sank without a trace, transforming into a bright arc that circled the strange sphere twice before disappearing!

This scene made everyone present feel a chill in their hearts.

But taking advantage of this opportunity, John Mill also completely broke free from Vaughn's control. This battle-hardened North American werewolf certainly knew why his "patrons" wanted to save him.

They're just trying to shift the blame elsewhere!

However, even though he knew it was a trap, he still had to jump in, because it was his only chance to survive.

Having just gained his freedom, John Mill, who had already "swum" about 10 feet, didn't have time to relieve the muscle-tearing pain caused by the teleportation spell. He grabbed his wand and immediately dispelled the teleportation spell.

Without pausing, just as before, he ran towards the basement entrance stairs, casting the only unforgivable curse he was confident he could use, fueled by the strongest malice of his life:

"Crucio!"

The invisible magic traversed the 10-foot space in an instant, passing through the thick, seemingly unbreakable, yet utterly unimpeded armor spell.

John Mill, who was running towards the stairs leading to the basement entrance, subconsciously looked back.

The five wizards who rescued him also paused briefly.

Their eyes were filled with expectation, then turned to disappointment. The Heart-Piercing Curse had failed!

Just as the invisible magic was about to penetrate Vaughn's body, a rat appeared out of nowhere and flew over, blocking Vaughn's path.

The next second, a rat’s shrill scream filled the air. The pain contained in that scream was as if it had been thrown into a fire of thousands of degrees, which instantly burned through its skin and flesh and set its bones ablaze.

The excruciating pain, emanating from within and throughout its entire body, caused it to convulse. Its wide-open eyes rolled back, spinning wildly in their sockets and inside its skull.

"Hurry up!"

Mr. Mystery shouted, but while the others didn't notice, he did see that the rat was pulled out of Vaughn Weasley's pocket.

The other party has made preparations to deal with the Unforgivable Curse!

He also abandoned his plan to use the Killing Curse—he was not a dark wizard, and did not possess any negative emotions that could be described as madness; the Killing Curse would not be very powerful.

He waved his wand, pointing it at the still-screaming rat. The rat exploded with a bang, its flesh and blood splattering everywhere. While it was still flying, the mysterious man's magic twisted it into some strange, foul-smelling substance that swelled and became viscous.

It was like a pool of foul-smelling pus being splashed out; the strong, pungent odor was enough to make anyone dizzy just by smelling it.

Having cast the spell, Mr. Mystery quickly led his companions, following closely behind John Mill, and rushed out of the basement.

"Huff, huff!"

John Mill was breathing heavily.

The pain is all over the body, which is a side effect of using the "Locomoor" spell on oneself. Unlike the human body, spells do not have a coordination mechanism. If the body's movement may harm itself, the brain will automatically stop it.

Under Locomoor's coercive commands, muscles and bones are likely to suffer varying degrees of damage.

But John Mill didn't care about any of that.

He endured the pain, dragging his exhausted body, which was greatly depleted of magic due to the casting of an unforgivable curse, and staggered as he forced open the trapdoor.

Five "patrons," still shrouded in black robes, followed closely behind him. They appeared to be in better condition. The mysterious gentleman at the back waved his wand and turned back to the basement, chanting the Fiendfyre spell.

The cursed flames, the instant they spewed from the tip of the staff, instantly transformed into a monstrous form, howling and rolling, engulfing everything in their path into the fire, rapidly expanding, and then, under the precise control of the mysterious man, forcibly crammed into the "small" basement.

boom-

The explosive burst made the ground tremble.

Mr. Bogin roared furiously, his voice trembling as well: "No—you, how dare you use Fiendfyre on my basement!"

Yes, Mr. Borkin is doing well.

Although the battles on the ground were just as intense as those underground.

The entire street-facing window of the Borgin-Bock shop was blown to smithereens, and the stone walls were blasted with jagged gaps by some powerful magic.

But the store did not fall into enemy hands.

Mr. Borgin, accompanied by several oddly shaped stone pillars and rusted steel golems, stood guard by the breach, exchanging magic with a small group of wizards outside.

Of course, the "helpful people" on the street outside also helped a lot.

This is Knockturn Alley, a gathering place for dark wizards. What would those evil guys, who have no concept of order or morality, do if they saw Borgin Burke being attacked by a small group of wizards?

Rescue? Help?

Don't dream, they'll just think it's a robbery and then they'll join in!

But the wizard squad outside clearly wasn't going to "share." They sent a few people to fight the dark wizards who had come to take advantage of the chaos. In a short time, the old street outside was almost entirely covered by the spells from both sides.

The stone pavement was torn up, and potholes were everywhere.

Because of these well-meaning people who came to cause trouble, Mr. Bokin barely managed to hold off the enemy, but he never expected that he would be betrayed by his guests.

Mr. Bogin was so angry that his mouth twisted into a crooked shape as he watched the fierce flames gushing out from the trapdoor.

But now nobody pays attention to him.

"The Fiendfire spell won't hold Weasley for long." The mysterious man who cast the Fiendfire spell seemed to be under considerable pressure as he looked at John Mill, breathing heavily. "Let's work together to get out of here. Once we're out of the shop's perimeter, we can Apparate. The rest is up to fate. How about it?"

John Mill nodded: "Okay!"

He knew the other party was using him, but he had no other choice but to cooperate with them.

Having received the answer he wanted, the mysterious man grabbed the still wailing Mr. Bokin: "We'll compensate you for any losses later. Now, Bokin, I need your help!"

Upon hearing about the possibility of compensation, Mr. Bokin's tears and snot miraculously vanished immediately: "Sir, what help do you need?"

"Are there any potions that can restore one's mood?"

Magic is formless and intangible, and cannot be influenced by external forces. Emotions, on the other hand, originate from the body and can be restored using magic potions.

Although the battle was brief, it was intense, and everyone was quite emotionally drained. The mysterious man who unleashed Fiendfire and John Mill who cast Cruciatus Curse were almost completely drained.

"Of course I do. I even have potions of joy, tranquilizers, forgetfulness ointments, and even potions of hatred brewed by Mr. Vaughn Weasley himself, but the price—"

"Give it to me. Send me the bill once things have calmed down!"

Mr. Borgin seemed to trust Mr. Mystery quite a bit. He shook his wand and summoned several bottles of potions, which, judging from the labels, were indeed made by Vaughn Weasley.

What an irony.

Vaughn Weasley is currently trapped below by Fiendfyre, and could emerge at any moment to slaughter them all, while they are preparing to use his potion to escape.

What a hellish joke!

The group swallowed the potion, and just as they were thinking of Weasley, they saw the raging, bulging Fiendfire on the trapdoor side suddenly collapse like a bubble that had lost its air.

Weasley has dealt with Fiendfyre and is about to escape!

John Mill and his investors were terrified.

Without further delay, the group formed a team and ran wildly out of the shop. They had only run a few steps when a loud bang came from behind them, and the scorching light of the fierce fire spread out in an instant.

The mysterious man chanted an incantation, taking control of Mr. Borgin's stone pillars and steel golems guarding the shop window, and ordering them to attack the wizard squad outside the door.

These alchemical creations, which Mr. Borgin somehow acquired and for whom Mr. Mystery paid an unknown amount of money, wielded swords and joined the well-meaning dark wizards to block the small group.

The group of people finally ran out of the store.

As John Mill stepped over the broken shop windows and crumbling walls, he glanced back, his eyes filled with the firelight.

He saw an endless fire, like a flood of seawater, surging out from the narrow trapdoor at the basement entrance, transforming into various monstrous shapes, licking and burning everything around it.

The floor was charred, and the glass was like melted syrup.

But even such a merciless sea of ​​fire could not harm the red-haired boy who slowly emerged from the ground.

Fiend "forgot" its caster, joyfully surrounding the boy, conjuring ferocious yet docile monsters at his feet and around him, swirling and dancing.

To John Mill, this bizarre and shocking scene was like witnessing the devil emerge from hell!

"Damn it, I'll get out of here today, I'll run as far away as I can!"

Once outside the Borgin-Bock store area, John Mill and his clients, having tacitly regained some of their composure, forcibly began Apparition and fled in different directions, making a vow to themselves as they did so.

The next instant, he squeezed into the air.

But I felt no sense of relief whatsoever.

In the final scene of his Apparition-distorted vision, he saw Vaughn Weasley's body, engulfed in flames, also burst out of the Borgin-Bock shop, stirring up a vortex.

Then, not long after, a bizarre scene unfolded before his eyes, with countless objects flowing like collages through the surface of the teleportation tunnel. Suddenly, a pair of fiery red hands burst into the "painting."

Vaughn, the intrusion has occurred!

Apparition Invasion!

A concept that is both strange and familiar.

On the ship from America to England, the werewolves ate and slept together almost all the time. John Mill once heard Commissioner C, who was traveling with them, proudly say that Vaughn Weasley's most powerful magic was Apparition.

"No one can use Apparition to escape from President Weasley. I dare say that spatial magic is like the back of his hand to him. No matter how much space is distorted, it cannot escape his eyes. That's how Essex was caught."

Essex is a North American wizard, supposedly a member of a civilian armed group, who was captured by Vaughn Weasley for attacking C.

John Mill had seen the man on the ship, but the man's perpetually dazed and listless demeanor, like that of a walking corpse, revealed nothing particularly remarkable about him.

He looks like a brain-damaged idiot.

Therefore, John Mill never really believed what those people said.

But today, he saw it for himself!

The fiery red shadow forced its way into his teleportation tunnel from the outside, into the flat spacetime membrane, where it twisted and spread.

In the blink of an eye, the scenery, mountains and rivers, sun and moon, everything flowing on the smooth membrane of the teleportation passage were stained and invaded by the fiery red.

Then, a pair of hands wrapped in fierce flames reached out from the "sticker" that was covered in flames!

Next came the arms, and finally the entire body.

It sounds complicated, but in reality, it only took a moment for Weasley's terrifying figure, wreathed in flames, to transform from a flat drawing into a three-dimensional phantom.

The body changes with time and space, and the fire moves with the body.

Majestic and imposing, overwhelming!

How did you do that?

In a flash of inspiration, John Mill couldn't understand it at all. He had never seen such magic before, much less such a way of invading Apparition.

He'd never even heard of it in his entire life, let alone seen it!

During the extremely dangerous teleportation, he couldn't even think of a way to deal with it, nor could he use any. He could only watch helplessly as those hands, wreathed in fierce flames, moved "slowly," like a skipped frame of an image, one second they were far away, and the next they were pressing down on his neck.

"Dear John, you can't escape!"

John Mill heard Vaughn's soft whisper, but with everything ablaze with red, he couldn't see where the other was—or rather, the countless distorted lights and flames in the teleportation tunnel were all Vaughn Weasley.

He only felt that as the other person pressed him down, and with that whisper, an irresistible force seemed to tear through time and space, pressing him in.

Crowded, empty.

He felt as if he had been squeezed into a crevice that was both infinitely narrow and infinitely vast. The pressure, which seemed to come from nowhere, made him feel like an extremely dense point. In the next instant, the pressure turned into an indescribable repulsive force, stretching him into a far-reaching, lighter and sparser speck of dust than air.

Perception is constantly shifting amidst such distortions and contradictions.

Just as John Mill was about to be driven mad by the inverted and chaotic feeling, he finally felt his body go empty, his whole body was "squeezed" out, and he was captured again by the gravity of reality, falling heavily to the ground.

John Mill slammed his back against the ground, it hurt terribly, but amidst that pain, he felt a strange, almost otherworldly joy.

"Cough cough cough—"

The joy prompted him to take a deep breath, and a large amount of earthy, moist air filled his lungs, causing him to cough violently.

Only then did he realize that he was in a damp forest, surrounded by unfamiliar surroundings, unsure whether he was in the Scottish Highlands or some other unknown place.

However, that doesn't matter anymore.

With each cough, a burning pain lingered in his throat. He looked down and saw a hand wreathed in flames still gripping his neck.

The fiery flames licked at him restlessly, and he could smell the "desire" contained in this cursed fire. It wanted to devour him, to burn him as fuel to strengthen the flames.

But the owner of the hand suppressed its desires with an even stronger will.

John Mill, panting, slightly raised his head. The forest was pitch black, and only the faint light from the Fiery Blaze allowed him to see his predicament—

He was held by only one hand, which extended from a strange "sphere" about a foot in size. The fingers were long but not very big, suggesting that its owner was a boy.

These characteristics were enough for John Mill to understand who the owner of the hand that was holding him was!

"President Weasley————"

Sure enough, the next second, the strange sphere rapidly expanded, and Vaughn Weasley's figure, wreathed in flames, slowly emerged from the strange cylindrical channel that looked like a sphere, yet also seemed to be formed by countless overlapping and stretching spheres.

Looking at the other person, John Mill revealed a bitter expression that was hard to tell whether it was mockery or self-mockery: "I lost the bet. You really don't want to let me go!"

Across from him, Vaughn smiled and was about to say something.

John Mill suddenly raised his wand, gathering his evil thoughts once more:

"Crucio!"

The invisible Cruciatus Curse struck Vaughn in the blink of an eye. Vaughn seemed to have not anticipated this sudden attack and did not even make a move to dodge or defend.

A flicker of joy crossed John Mill's eyes, but that joy instantly turned to despair—

Despite being hit by the Crucifixion Curse, Vaughn Weasley's smile didn't falter. He simply sighed, "You've already used the Crucifixion Curse once before, John. I checked you when you boarded the ship in America. There are no dark wizards among you. Your malice is only enough for that one Crucifixion Curse."

"————"

John Mill suddenly felt a pang of hatred for himself for not being a dark wizard, for not having the mad and depraved soul of a dark wizard.

He was still unwilling to give in.

Why should everyone else run away, but the other side ignores the other big fish and insists on chasing after a nobody like me? Just because I'm a traitor?

Why is it that after wandering for so many years, enduring countless hardships, and forging a magical and combat ability that I am so proud of, I appear so vulnerable in front of a 12-year-old child?

Why is it that all I want is some power and a better life, but I can't get what I want?

Why?

He pursed his lips tightly and waved his wand forcefully once more.

Just as the wand was about to move, Vaughn, on the other hand, made a light swipe with his free hand, and a flash of red light appeared. John Mill didn't even notice what happened; his hands just trembled, and his head spun.

When he came to his senses again, his wand had already slipped from his hand and spun into Vaughn's hand.

Only then did he notice out of the corner of his eye that countless red arcs of light were leaping around him, throughout the woods.

He recognized the symbol of light; it was the disarming spell.

A sense of powerlessness suddenly overwhelmed me.

John Mill was beginning to question the meaning of life.

His lifelong belief in magic was challenged tonight.

He had never seen anyone able to intrude on another's Apparition. Just when he reluctantly accepted it and thought that was the greatest surprise Vaughn Weasley had ever brought, the other party's unheard-of Disarming Charm technique shocked him once again.

When did the Disarming Spell become an area-of-effect spell?

He finally gave up struggling.

Seemingly sensing his change in mood, Vaughn released his grip on his throat, letting him collapse to his knees, exhausted and panting heavily.

The monster formed from Fiendfire slid from Vaughn's body to his feet, wandering on the grass, secretly burning dew and withered leaves to maintain its form, while "greedily" circling around John Mill's firewood body.

Desperate John Mill ignored them, lost in thought.

Vaughn didn't say anything either.

After a long silence, John Mill finally spoke in a hoarse voice: "Dear Chairman, do you have any questions?"

'

"What do you want to ask?"

""

"Aren't you going to ask me why I betrayed you?"

"There's nothing to say. Whatever your reasons, desires, greed, or unavoidable difficulties, I can understand. Everyone has a motive when doing anything. The only difference is that I'm not interested in your motives."