But not everyone shared Rookwood's mindset.
Dokuro kept his head low, but in the shadows Elijah could not see, hatred burned in his eyes like venom.
He quietly fumbled out a small silver whistle from his collar and blew it hard.
No sound came out.
"Sir, I only possess a few records about Ancient Magic from my family archives. If you wish, I will gladly present them all to you," Rookwood said without hesitation.
His blatant submission disgusted Dokuro.
Pure-blood glory?
What a joke.
He sneered inwardly, convinced that if not for Elijah's magic pinning them down, these so-called proud wizards would already be crawling at his feet like dogs.
It wasn't entirely untrue.
During the Dark Lord's era, many had behaved exactly like that.
Pure-blood pride was worth less than dirt.
"Show me, Mr. Rookwood," Elijah said calmly.
He lifted the pressure from Rookwood alone.
Rookwood instantly felt the crushing weight vanish, as though a decade-long burden had been lifted from his back. A sense of lightness filled him.
And with it, the suppressed urge to resist surged back.
After all, Elijah was just one man.
No matter how powerful he was, could he withstand a Killing Curse?
Moments ago, Rookwood had thought him comparable to the Dark Lord.
Now, that idea felt absurd.
The Dark Lord's power was built on slaughter.
But this "Tom Riddle"?
Rookwood glanced at the unconscious Tonks.
A man who showed mercy to an Auror was not to be feared.
What's more, Elijah had not even taken his wand.
Such carelessness deserved death.
He stepped forward, closing the distance slightly.
"Sir… my ancestor, Charles Rookwood, was once one of the guardians of Ancient Magic. Unfortunately, since his time, no one in our family has possessed the talent to inherit it.
"Over the centuries, this knowledge has nearly vanished. There are hardly any records left. That's why I was forced to cooperate with the goblins."
His regret seemed genuine.
In truth, even his current knowledge of Ancient Magic had come about by chance.
It was as though Charles Rookwood had never intended for his own descendants to inherit it.
"So you don't actually have much to offer?" Elijah said with a faint laugh, watching him as though enjoying a performance.
"Yes, sir, but I believe—" Rookwood edged closer, his gaze growing sharp. His wand hand subtly shifted behind him.
He needed to strike in a single blow.
Preferably from behind.
But how could he create such an opening?
The answer came to him instantly.
"Sir, while I may lack information, he, this filthy goblin, has the manuscript of the great Ragnok.
"That manuscript contains the secrets to mastering Ancient Magic.. If you could obtain it…"
Dokuro's eyes bulged in fury.
"Traitor!"
"Rookwood, you traitor!"
"Faithless wretch!"
"Silence!" Rookwood snapped, casting a Silencing Charm before turning back to Elijah.
The goblin's mouth still moved, but no sound emerged. Judging by his expression, the curses were vicious.
"What do you know? Only by following the strong can one walk the correct path!" Rookwood said.
His eyes never left Elijah.
Partly to guard against a sudden attack.
Partly to seize his opportunity.
Elijah rose to his feet.
Just as Rookwood had hoped, he walked past him and approached the kneeling Dokuro.
His back was fully exposed.
Rookwood took a slow breath.
Then raised his wand.
At its tip, green light began to gather.
The Killing Curse was ready.
"Heh~ Mr. Rookwood."
Just as Rookwood was about to cast his spell, Elijah's voice suddenly rang out. "Do you think your spell will be faster, or my speed in killing you?"
He didn't even turn his head as he spoke, his tone laced with mockery.
"Sir, I…" Rookwood's breath hitched. His hand trembled violently around his wand, yet he still didn't lower it.
The sea wind seemed to fall silent. Even the crashing waves felt frozen in place. Rookwood could hear nothing—only his own thoughts echoing in the stillness.
In his eyes, Elijah's movements slowed to a crawl.
He wasn't even looking.
One spell. Just one, and it would be over.
That thought repeated endlessly in his mind.
Rookwood had never been particularly talented. He had never been the heir to his family, never important enough to earn the Dark Mark. When his elder brother, Augustus Rookwood, was imprisoned after the Dark Lord's fall, only then did he inherit the family name—and stumble upon the secrets of Ancient Magic left behind by his ancestors.
If he could seize that power, everything would change.
He wouldn't need to follow anyone ever again.
Just one spell.
But what if it failed?
The doubt crept in.
What if he missed?
This man wouldn't spare him. No one would forgive someone who had cast the Killing Curse at them.
The urge to retreat surged within him, his arm shaking uncontrollably.
Yet his wand remained raised, as if something unseen gripped his arm, forcing him forward.
The Killing Curse formed at last.
At this distance, there was no way to miss.
Green light flared.. And in that instant, Elijah turned his head.
"A-Akada Kedavra!"
Rookwood's breath caught. His spell faltered, then fired uncontrollably, the green flash engulfing Elijah.
But Elijah didn't dodge.
He simply raised a hand.
The Killing Curse was deflected like a flicker of green fireworks, scattering into the night before vanishing into the sea.
Rookwood collapsed to the ground, his expression shattered.
"You… blocked the Killing Curse…"
The Avada Kedavra Curse was feared precisely because it had no counter—no shield could stop it.
Deflecting it like this…
"You call that a Killing Curse?" Elijah let out a faint laugh.
The Killing Curse wasn't just an incantation.
Without true killing intent, it was nothing but an empty shell.
And Rookwood's so-called Killing Curse had already lost its intent the moment Elijah turned to face him.
All that remained was fear.
"I warned you, Mr. Rookwood."
Elijah's voice was colder than the night sea.
In truth, he had never intended to spare anyone here—except Tonks.
The Dark Wizards had already tried to kill him. As for the goblins, they were no better.
He didn't enjoy killing, but he had no issue clearing away filth.
With a slight motion of his wand, flames erupted from Rookwood's body.
"I-I'm sorry! Please—Arrrrhhh!!!!!"
They spread instantly, consuming him whole. The fire twisted into serpentine shapes, tearing into his flesh, burrowing into his eyes, devouring him from within until nothing remained but ash.
The other Dark Wizards watched in horror.
The flames did not die.
They spread with the wind, encircling the tower in a blazing ring.
One by one, the Dark Wizards were swallowed, reduced to charred remnants, then to drifting smoke.
Only Elijah remained standing within the inferno.
Tonks and Dokuro lay unmoving amid the flames.
Dokuro was spared—for now.
Elijah needed the manuscript of Ragnok.
In a world without the fifth-year transfer student, he couldn't be certain how far the goblins had progressed in their pursuit of Ancient Magic. But any knowledge tied to it was valuable.
As Rookwood died, the Silencing Charm on Dokuro lifted.
Yet the goblin showed far more resolve.
Even now, he refused to speak.
Elijah had always found goblins detestable. Their endless greed, their repeated rebellions, their demands for wands—things that were never theirs.
They demanded that wizards share wandcraft, yet guarded their own forging secrets fiercely.
It was hypocrisy at its finest.
And yet…
This stubborn defiance earned a sliver of respect.
Humans were far more inconsistent—capable of both greatness and utter depravity.
"Your name is Dokuro?" Elijah crouched before him. "Tell me where Ragnok's manuscript is."
"Never!"
"You were willing to make a deal with Rookwood. Why not make one with me?" Elijah said calmly. "Or does your goblin nature mean you don't value Ancient Magic as much as you claim?"
With a flick of his hand, the wands of the fallen Dark Wizards flew over, aligning neatly before Dokuro.
"It's just a change of partner. It shouldn't matter."
Dokuro let out a cold, mocking laugh.
No difference?
The difference was everything.
They had never intended to give up Ancient Magic.
The deal with Rookwood had always been temporary. Once they had what they wanted—wands—they would have killed him.
They wanted both.
But Elijah's sudden arrival had changed everything.
He was far stronger than Rookwood.
Too strong.
Cooperating with him meant losing control.
The only option left was to kill him!
Dokuro's eyes flickered with malice.
Elijah felt it immediately.
"What are you waiting for?"
"For your death," Dokuro said, lifting his head with a vicious grin.
The moment his words fell, the tower began to tremble.
The structure shook violently, as if on the verge of collapse.
Then..
A massive shadow blotted out the moonlight.
Elijah looked up.
A dragon.
An enormous, fully grown dragon descended from the sky, its jaws opening wide.
ROAAAR!!!!
A torrent of dragonfire poured down like molten lava, engulfing the ruins and cascading into the sea.