I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 505 The Third Step of the Plan

The once bustling Westminster Street is now a scene of devastation.

Broken bricks, toppled statues, and collapsed buildings intertwined, forming a chaotic ruin.

Corpses lay scattered across the streets, wizards' and Muggles'—blood, the traces of death, flowed across the ruins, staining the streets a dark red that even torrential rain could not wash away.

From the sky, the eerie sounds of Dementors pierced the clouds and echoed through the empty streets, sending chills down one's spine. The wind on the ground was equally menacing, howling sharply through the ruined buildings; the two sounds combined to create a powerful, indescribable sense of terror.

Suddenly, this place, which was once the empire's holy land and most sacred place, has become the forecourt of some kind of hell.

Compared to other neighborhoods, where gunfire, explosions, and screams are constant, this place is far more terrifying.

At that moment, Walton McNeil was leaning against a dilapidated building, panting heavily.

His eyelids trembled violently, and his face was deathly pale.

The pool of blood on the ground was particularly glaring.

It was coming from his severed limbs.

The Muggle's weapon shattered his right arm.

The magic wand had fallen somewhere.

In addition to the wound on his arm, there was also one on his lower abdomen—the bullet had penetrated the rubble and hit there, which greatly reduced the bullet's power, preventing it from penetrating his body. The bullet head blocked the wound and reduced bleeding.

However—although he is not dead, he doesn't have much time left.

Walton McNeill.

His official identity is a member of the Investigation Team of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic.

This is a department under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, composed of a wizarding community including the Strikers, responsible for general law enforcement, such as minor wizarding violations of the Law of Secrecy or economic crimes.

Aurors are responsible for more serious and dangerous magical crimes.

Over the past few years, the Scouts have undergone several reforms. Most of the original veterans have joined the Aurors, and the current members are mostly newcomers or wizards who have just graduated from Hogwarts.

Walton McNeill, one of the few veterans in the department, wielded considerable influence and should not have been sent to the battlefield this time.

but--

Besides my work at the Ministry of Magic.

He has another identity.

He was one of Voldemort's informants in the Ministry of Magic, and a Death Eater.

"Cough cough—"

In the corner, Walton McNeil coughed up blood, feeling a burning pain in his lungs. The bullet that had wounded his abdomen had likely torn a lobe of his lung.

This is an extremely dangerous sign. If he doesn't leave and receive treatment soon, he will meet his death in a few minutes.

"Damn it—cough cough—!" he cursed.

His eyes shifted to the pile of corpses to the side.

There is a wizard named 'Dark Raven' there, and his wand is still in his hand.

I originally came to support this good-for-nothing. But as soon as he Apparated, he was attacked by Muggles.

That idiot tried to abandon him and run away, but when he realized he was injured, he lost his composure and was riddled with bullets by the Muggle army in the building.

However, before he died, this guy used a powerful dark magic spell, which was clearly a spell bestowed by the Dark Lord. It was extremely powerful, not only blowing up the building and leaving a huge gap in the outer wall, but also burying the Muggle army under the rubble.

What angered him was that he had become this guy's scapegoat. The shot that shattered his arm was originally aimed at that guy, but he suddenly teleported in front of him and ran right into the shot.

Then this guy blew up the outer wall, giving the Muggle soldier hiding in the shadows a wider field of vision. The gunshot wound to his abdomen was caused by the lack of an outer wall blocking his view; he was hiding under the rubble and was discovered and attacked.

To put it simply, this idiot was practically ready to shoot an Avada Kedavra shot right in his head.

"Huff—" Walton McNeil clutched his left arm, blood gushing from his fingertips. He had to make a decision.

Is it better to expose yourself to that Muggle's gun, rush to the ruins, grab that idiot's wand, and leave, or stay here and wait to die?

Okay, it seems like there's a choice, but in reality, there isn't.

Walton McNeil turned his head to look at the ruins, which were less than a dozen feet (three or four meters) away. In one fell swoop, he would be exposed to the enemy's line of sight for no more than a second or two.

"Damn bastard."

Perhaps to encourage himself, Walton McNeil cursed again.

This time, however, his target was the Muggles.

Who would have thought that the flock of sheep he used to kill at will would now become the executioners threatening his life?

If someone had told him at any point in the past that he would die at the hands of a Muggle, the only thing he would have done was to beat that person up.

This is an insult to him.

And it is the greatest insult.

But now—

Without a moment's hesitation, Walton McNeil finally couldn't hold back any longer. He stood up, crouched on the ground like a praying mantis, pushed off with his feet, and then leaped up.

Fortunately, he did not hear any gunshots.

Perhaps the other party felt that the bullet to the abdomen was already going to kill him, so they no longer paid attention to him.

In short—Lady Fortune is smiling upon us.

Walton McNeil crawled on his hands, which were covered in blood and dust, and snatched the wand from the hands of a dead man in the ruins.

Successful.

Walton McNeil knew he would survive.

Just as he was overjoyed and about to use the Apparition spell to leave, a sudden footstep made his heart sink to his stomach.

"magical"

"It's too late."

He lost his right hand, which was skilled at casting spells, so casting spells with his left hand will definitely be more difficult than before.

Especially with the dangerous spell Apparition, if an accident occurs and causes the body to separate, then he will really die.

"Armor for protection!"

In the nick of time, Walton McNeil could only instinctively release a protective spell that he was familiar with.

Almost the instant he cast the spell, gunshots rang out.

Several bullets hovered less than inches from him, and almost all of them were aimed at his head, which made his heart pound with fear.

"Wait—" he shouted. The other side of the corridor was dark, and he couldn't see who it was. "I am an employee of the Ministry of Magic. I am a wizard under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I am here to help you deal with the Death Eaters."

Walton McNeil quickly revealed his identity.

Although he did not actually obtain permission to come here.

They came secretly, on the orders of the Dark Lord.

But given his status as a member of the Ministry of Magic, this is indeed true.

"Ministry of Magic?"

A woman's voice could be heard in the chaotic corridor.

"name."

Walton McNeil

"Wait—" the woman continued.

However, I myself have not emerged from the darkness.

She was using darkness as cover.

Her inquiry was immediately relayed back to the Joint Operations Department via the communication system, and then someone would verify her identity.

But before that—the woman's sharp voice rang out again: "Put down your wand, and I guarantee your safety."

Upon hearing this, Walton McNeil's face stiffened.

A flash of anger crossed his eyes!

What a humiliation it is to put down your wand because of a Muggle's threat.

But now.

He knew perfectly well that the woman in the shadows was aiming that strange weapon at his head.

Casting the spell on myself

He knew some very powerful spells, all gifts from the Dark Lord. Even if he didn't know the woman's location, he could blow up the entire building and then it wouldn't matter where she was.

But—for the same reason, casting a spell with the left hand, not to mention whether the spell will be successfully cast, the casting animation alone is enough for the opponent to empty a whole magazine.

But even knowing it's impossible, getting him to put down his wand and accept this humiliation is still harder than killing him.

"Put down your wand!" The woman's voice rang out again from the darkness.

"I will not cast any more spells on you," Walton McNeil shouted, making a final struggle.

The woman's voice turned serious, "Put down your wand! I want you to put down your wand!"

"Okay, that's enough." Walton McNeill was getting impatient; he couldn't take it anymore, he was about to die.

He casually tossed the wand aside.

Indeed, dignity is far more precious to someone like him than death.

The woman slowly walked over in the darkness.

A message from the joint command center came through, confirming the man's identity.

But she did not let her guard down.

What is confirmed is that the Ministry of Magic does indeed have a wizard named Walton McNeil, but it's uncertain whether he is the same person standing before us.

For her job, impersonating others was more common than eating or drinking.

She was holding a rifle.

The figure gradually became clear in Walton McNeil's tired eyes.

She was a woman with neat short brown hair, a sharply defined face, and emerald-like eyes.

She was wearing a tight vest and matching leggings, with various weapons strapped to her legs and waist.

She's a beautiful woman.

Although she is quite different from the traditional British aesthetic of a court lady, the woman in front of me gives off a more domineering and sharp feeling. Her smooth muscle lines are full of power, but there is no denying that she is very charming, even though her face is covered in dust.

While the wizard was sizing up the woman, Alice was also sizing up the wizard.

His right arm was shattered at the joint, his hand and forearm were missing, and he was also shot in the abdomen, blood gushing out.

His face was pale and he looked exhausted.

Even if they were taken to the operating room immediately, they might not be able to be saved from such injuries.

This wizard was still able to maintain a clear mind.

This surprised Alice.

Perhaps the wizard's constitution is different from that of ordinary people?

She guessed that a normal person would have fallen into a coma long ago after losing so much blood.

"you"

She was about to speak when, suddenly, something unexpected happened.

The rifle in her hand suddenly veered to the left, out of her control.

That centripetal force is enormous.

Alice, who already felt guilty for possibly injuring friendly forces, was momentarily disarmed by the sight of the person in front of her with such severe injuries.

In that instant, the rifle in her hand slipped from her control.

"Stop!" Alice shouted sharply.

He swiftly drew the pistol from his waist.

Walton McNeil, however, ignored everything and lunged at the fallen wand.

He had no grasp of such a profound ability as casting spells without a staff.

In school, he only successfully cast the Levitation spell without a staff in seventh grade.

I haven't practiced this kind of thing since graduation.

The position he applied for at the Ministry of Magic did not require wandlessness, and wandless spellcasting was too difficult to master.

It's not a universal skill, as if mastering the skill of 'Wandless Casting' means you can use any spell at will—no—each spell requires a long period of practice in Wandless Casting.

There are general techniques, but the hand gestures for casting each spell are different, and it takes a long time to practice.

Therefore, even Dumbledore wouldn't waste time practicing without a staff.

Mastering a spell is already difficult enough, but to spend time mastering it without a wand is a thankless and arduous task for modern wizards.

At this moment—Walton McNeil vowed that if he could return alive, he would practice staffless spellcasting diligently.

At the very least, one must master the Ironclad Charm, the Petrify Charm, and most importantly, the Apparition Charm.

Damn Muggles—when the Dark Lord comes to power, he'll skin them alive, chop them into mincemeat, and feed them to the eight-eyed giant spider.

"I told you to stop!" Alice warned again from the other side.

The other person's actions made her nervous.

Perhaps firing immediately is the best option.

As a well-trained agent, it takes less than a second from drawing the pistol from his waist to firing it.

The wizard in front of me was clearly unaware of these things; he probably thought he only had one weapon in his hand.

He took her rifle. Then she was no longer a threat to him.

This was clearly just his unrealistic fantasy.

Alice, however, had an even bolder idea in an instant.

She wanted to capture the wizard in front of her alive.

Having made her decision, she immediately stepped forward, raised her foot to kick the wizard, and gripped the butt of her gun in her right hand, ready to deliver a heavy blow to the back of his head.

However, the wizard's reaction surprised Alice. He didn't dodge, but instead lunged straight at the falling wand.

Just as she raised the butt of the gun, ready to smash it down.

That strange feeling of floating returned.

This slowed her movements, even though she had already knocked the wizard to the ground.

A powerful thigh pressed against the wizard's nape.

This scene—is strikingly similar to an event that occurred in the United States decades later.

This ultimately sparked protests across the United States.

"Don't move!" Alice's voice was full of authority. "I'm warning you, even if you are a wizard from the Ministry of Magic, if you resist, I have the right to kill you."

That strange centripetal buoyancy must be the work of the wizard beneath us.

But this did not frighten Alice. The reason was simple: at this critical moment, the opponent's only ability was to deflect her weapon, which meant that he did not have any greater power at this time.

(End of this chapter)