Amid the students' startled cries, four ropes rose upright out of thin air. The wizards who had been bound only moments before were hoisted up cleanly and efficiently, left hanging in the air.
A trace of reluctance flickered across Headmaster Charlid's face, but it was quickly replaced by a steely resolve.
His voice was so low that those below could barely hear it. "It's nothing—this will be over soon. It won't hurt at all."
As his near-inaudible murmur faded, a deep, ghostly blue—light bloomed at the tip of his wand. The glow eventually condensed into a tiny flame, so fragile it looked as though a breath of wind could snuff it out. Yet from afar, that little flame resembled a distant campfire on a desolate winter night, stirring an inexplicable yearning in the hearts of those who saw it.
Though it appeared to be no more than a small tongue of fire, Charlid's wand moved as if it were caught under some sluggish curse. Every minuscule motion seemed to drain his strength, to the point that many onlookers felt an irresistible urge to step forward and help him carry that flame to its destination.
The wizard closest to the flame clearly felt the same. But he was utterly unable to move. All he could do was stare at the fire with a vacant, blissful grin, desperately craning his body toward the slowly approaching wand.
Just as his face filled with delusion and anticipation, a brilliant red spell shot in from the side and struck Headmaster Charlid's wand, attempting to knock it away. The headmaster froze for a split second, then regained control—but the strange blue flame was interrupted by the sudden attack. Before he could react further, and amid the astonished gasps of the young witches and wizards, several figures abruptly appeared on the grounds.
The spell that had disarmed him was cast by none other than Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts' Deputy Headmistress. Among the newcomers were Dumbledore and the headmaster of Mahoutokoro, along with several professors from both schools. Naturally, the head nurse responsible for treating the injured students was also present.
"Merlin's beard! Headmaster Charlid—are you trying to commit murder in public?"
Professor McGonagall's face was a mix of shock and fury. Had Dumbledore not been present, she might have already drawn her wand and gone straight at Charlid.
Most students could not identify the spell that had just been interrupted, but Professor McGonagall recognized it instantly. It was a lethal curse. Rare in Britain, it was more commonly used in the United States as a simplified execution spell—employed when conditions did not allow for a painless death through more elaborate means. Had her magic not disrupted the casting, the young wizard closest to the flame would have ended his life moments later, wearing that blissful smile.
"No, it isn't," Headmaster Charlid replied coldly. "This is not murder. This is redemption—atonement for the crimes they committed. Strip away their status as students, and their sins alone would warrant death many times over. But—"
His tone suddenly grew unhinged. "Do you know this? Because of this incident, I may be dismissed by the board at any moment! That doesn't matter—I can accept that. But if I step down…" He pointed sharply at the four suspended wizards.
"Once I'm gone, the new headmaster could very well release these bastards under pressure from their families and in the name of 'campus stability'!!!"
Professor McGonagall fell silent for a moment, then answered firmly. "Hogwarts cannot interfere in Ilvermorny's internal affairs—but that is absolutely not an excuse for you to commit murder in front of my students. They are children. What you're doing is destroying them."
Her grip tightened around her wand, her expression unwavering. If he made another attempt, she would strike him down without hesitation.
With the two locked eyes, Dumbledore spoke quietly with Mahoutokoro's headmaster, clearly discussing how to handle the situation. Yet from the fact that he did not stop Professor McGonagall, it was obvious that he, too, refused to let his students become witnesses to an execution.
Seconds ticked by. At last, Charlid relented. He shrugged and stepped back a few paces, though he maintained firm control over the four wizards.
"Very well. I acted rashly," he said flatly. "Please, take your students and leave. What follows is an internal Ilvermorny matter. We will discuss the handling of this incident separately."
Had Dumbledore not intervened, today's events would not have been limited to Ilvermorny disciplining its own students. They would also have involved compensation for the reputations of Hogwarts and Mahoutokoro. Bathed in blood, the shame brought by that great fire could have been washed away—without any further cost.
But as the people from the other two schools withdrew, what should have been a sincere apology turned into a failed course of action. Witnessing something firsthand and hearing about it afterward were entirely different matters. This meant Ilvermorny would have to pay a far steeper price.
With a bitter smile, Charlid watched the two headmasters depart with their students. His mind felt numb—the blow had been too heavy.
Still, punishment had to continue. Before he was dismissed, these four men had to be dealt with. He would never allow such malignant cancers to walk freely through the school after his departure.
And yet, in the distant sky, a staggering figure suddenly appeared.
The newcomer's abrupt arrival brought the departing procession to a halt. Everyone watched as the heavily bundled figure—clothes crusted with ice—climbed awkwardly off a flying broom.
He was shivering from the cold, yet his voice rang out with perfect clarity. When he pulled back the hood over his head, Allen, who had been watching from below, immediately recognized him.
Yes—he was the Auror who had fought alongside Allen not long ago, destroying a fragment of Voldemort's soul.
"My apologies, Headmasters. Good evening," the man said briskly. "To be honest, this weather is terrible for flying. Please forgive the fact that I had to pass through countless national magical defenses just to get here from the United States. You know how it is—because of the international magical defense network, some stretches simply have to be flown."
He spoke casually, all the while flicking his wand in a swift motion, forcing Headmaster Charlid back when he attempted to act.
"Oh—my apologies, esteemed Headmaster. I must draw my wand on you. These are orders from the Ministry of Magic."
With an almost cheerful air, he produced a letter from inside his coat and waved it before the crowd, clearly displaying the intact magical seal. After ensuring everyone had seen it, he broke the seal with a smile and opened the envelope.
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