Man of Archives

Holding a master class on Transfiguration turned out to be an engaging experience. I found myself enjoying the opportunity to stand in front of an audience and speak on a subject I’m passionate about. The fact that the topic was Transfiguration only enhanced my satisfaction.

 

The attendees were students from Ilvermorny, along with adult wizards who were either masters of Transfiguration or aspiring to be. A few wizards with expertise in other disciplines were present, but they were in the minority.

 

During conversations with fellow masters, I gained fascinating insights into their research and preferred areas of Transfiguration. Sharing my own thoughts with them provided me with a fresh perspective on certain issues, one I hadn’t previously considered.

 

The final day featured lively magical debates on the nature of transforming bodies into objects and even phenomena. Afterward, there was a grand banquet, which I also attended.

 

“Well, that’s the end of the master class,” Vasily drawled as we saw off the last wizard. “What did you think?”

 

“Not bad at all,” I replied. “I thought it would be worse.”

 

“Heh,” Vasily chuckled. “No, the guild and the headmaster planned everything perfectly. Nothing went off-script. Everything was carefully thought out.”

 

“Well, that’s great,” I nodded. “I didn’t want to worry about that too. But enough about me… what did you think of the master class?”

 

“You know, I thought you’d cover some basic topics, but I was wrong,” he said slowly. “Even I found your take on certain areas of Transfiguration interesting. I won’t say I agreed with everything, but it wasn’t my master class.”

 

“I tried to make it interesting and valuable for everyone,” I said. “If someone took something meaningful from it, I’ll be happy.”

 

“Gentlemen,” Ilvermorny’s headmistress addressed us, “I’d like to congratulate you on the successful completion of the master class.”

 

“Great work,” I nodded to her. “It would’ve been much harder without your help.”

 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she waved it off. “I enjoy organizing these events. And the fact that the students were able to attend something like this is thanks to you.”

 

“I’m sure many of them didn’t understand half of what was discussed.”

 

“Half is too generous,” she chuckled. “I think barely one-twentieth understood. Most of the topics were well beyond school level.”

 

The small gathering, held just for the three of us, continued in a calm, friendly atmosphere.

 

“Timothy,” the headmistress addressed me, “what are your plans for the future?”

 

“Well,” I stretched the word as I thought. “I’m heading to Las Vegas. Need to make a few purchases.”

 

“And after that?”

 

“Then I’m going to Forks, and from there, Halifax,” I revealed my plans.

 

“And after Halifax?”

 

“From there, I’ll head home, to England,” I smiled. “I should be back by mid-summer.”

 

“You’re not planning to stay with us?” she asked, a hint of sadness in her voice. “I’m sure you’d find plenty to do.”

 

“I’m not ready to settle on another continent just yet,” I replied calmly. “Maybe in the future… but not now.”

 

“I understand,” she nodded.

 

“Well then, let’s drink to future meetings!” Vasily exclaimed, raising his glass. We drank a light local alcohol, which I must say, was of good quality and surprisingly delicious.

 

We clinked our glasses.

 

The evening continued quietly after that. We joked, exchanged opinions, and discussed what could have been done better. This should help them avoid similar mistakes or better prepare for future events.

 

Afterward, we all went to our rooms.

 

I spent the night in meditation, reflecting on the books I had already absorbed. I believe things will proceed smoothly and interestingly.

 

The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and ready for new achievements. I quickly packed my things, deciding not to extend my stay. With these thoughts in mind, I had breakfast in the Great Hall and left the school, sending notes to the headmistress and Vasily. I then headed to the nearby village to buy myself a new Portkey.

 

There, I was met by an old woman who sold me a Portkey to Las Vegas without asking any questions. The price was just one Galleon. There was no need to wait long, as the Portkey was ready for immediate use. So, after stepping aside, I activated it and transported myself to Las Vegas.

 

Once in the city, on the other side of the continent, I immediately felt the change in climate. It was drier and hotter here. The desert landscape added a certain charm. Looking at the people, it was clear that the city was far from deserted—in fact, quite the opposite. There were wizards not only from North America but also from South America, as evidenced by their flags and the non-English languages they spoke. But that wasn’t a problem, as a Chinese artifact I had was incredibly helpful.

 

My attention was then drawn to a sign adorned with various magical effects and the inscription: “Welcome to Las Vegas.” Stepping aside, I let the crowd carry me along. Slowly moving between different shops, I absorbed the information about the surrounding area.

 

The third thing that caught my eye, after the throngs of people and the magical sign, were the enormous gambling establishments. Casinos were on every corner, ranging from small venues to massive dominions that likely catered to both wizards and Muggles. Between these gigantic casinos were smaller establishments with signs like “Happy Ending Massage Salon.” It took me a moment to realize these were upscale brothels.

 

But behind all the beautiful women, flashy facades, and loud, happy crowds, there was one unpleasant reality. It was hard to miss… addicts hiding in the shadows, seeking another dose of magical potion, amputees missing limbs, and low-end prostitutes.

 

I noticed all this within the first few hours of wandering around.

 

Finding a hotel wasn’t difficult. Every large casino also functioned as a hotel, offering rooms for anyone willing to pay.

 

I chose a hotel called The Mirage. There was nothing particularly special about it—it was simply the closest one. There was no need to leave the magical district, as the hotel’s entrance was wide open and marked by several illusions guiding the way.

 

The passage itself was long. After about five minutes, I emerged on the other side and was immediately greeted by a young woman with light brown hair.

 

“Welcome to The Mirage, sir,” she said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

 

“I’d like to rent a room for some time,” I stated my request.

 

“Of course, we can assist with that,” she smiled and gestured for me to follow her.

 

And so, I followed. The interesting magical effects gradually faded away, leaving a regular hall with about a dozen people, some of whom were hotel staff while others were guests.

 

Above the heads of the hotel staff at the registration desk was a large sign that read, “No Magic Allowed.” It was visible only to wizards. Apparently, the registration area was shared with Muggles. I didn’t see a problem with that, as I had no intention of interacting with them in any magical way.

 

“How long would you like to rent the room?” she asked.

 

“Ten days, I think,” I sighed. “Can I extend it later?”

 

“Certainly,” she smiled. “We can offer you a room with two beds and a great view, or one with a single bed but closer to the ground. What would you prefer?”

 

“Hm,” I mused. “Let’s go with the room with the view.”

 

“Wonderful,” she nodded and made a few entries into her computer. “Ten days will be two hundred dollars.”

 

She turned the screen to show me the price in Galleons. Nodding in agreement, I handed over a check for the required amount. In return, I received a form to sign and the keys to the room. Taking the key with the room number, I nodded.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Have a good stay,” she said with a nod and stepped out from behind the registration desk.

 

My room was on one of the top floors. There were a few other tourists riding up with me, but they paid no attention. Nor did the tall doorman, who simply stared blankly at the door. Stepping off on my floor, I headed to my room.

 

After changing clothes, I decided to head back out in search of interesting items. For wizards, there were guidebooks available to help locate specific shops. It was a comprehensive magazine filled with various stores, each with brief descriptions and addresses.

 

I started by looking for shops that sold magical books. Perhaps I’d find something of interest.

 

My first stop was the largest bookstore, which spanned several floors, all packed with books. But after a quick scan of the material, I sighed in disappointment. Most of the books were ones I had already studied, or reprints of books I had already gone through. The reprints were abridged and overly simplified. In terms of new information, only a few books caught my attention. The most intriguing were those on Native American magic. While not the most powerful in direct influence, it excelled in potions and could rival other magical traditions in that field. I loaded up those books and moved on to the next shop.

 

This next store was particularly interesting, as it was located next to a wand shop. But what caught my eye wasn’t just the proximity—it was the fact that they sold textbooks on wand-making. In England, this knowledge was considered exclusive, and I hadn’t had the chance to search for it. But here…

 

I immediately began loading up every book I could find on the art of wand-making. Why did I decide to dive into this field? It’s simple. A magical wand is an essential tool for every wizard, except for the most powerful. Knowing how to make wands ensures that I’d never have to rely on a wand-maker or worry about the condition of my wand limiting my abilities.

 

As the saying goes… I was searching for copper and found gold.

 

“Hey,” a wizard called out to me as he exited the wand shop. “Either go inside or move along!”

 

His words snapped me out of my meditative state, earning him a not-so-friendly look.

 

“Oh, sorry,” I nodded to him and stepped inside the store.

 

There were a few other wizards inside, but none paid any attention to me. Without using my wand, I began to make myself unnoticed. I cast small spells here and there, cloaking myself from sight. At one point, I used an illusion to make it appear as if I had already left. But that wasn’t the case at all. I hid in a dark corner, wrapping myself in every possible concealment charm, and plunged back into meditation, loading up all the books on this invaluable art.

 

I remained like this until almost evening, when I realized I couldn’t load any more books. I cast my illusion again, stepped into it, and dispelled all my concealment charms and the illusion. A short wizard standing nearby gave me a suspicious look but soon returned to what he was doing.

 

Back in my room, I decided not to go anywhere else that day and instead focused on analyzing the books I had just downloaded. Estimating the time it would take to study the material on wand-making, I figured it would require about two weeks, or half a month.

 

Lying in bed, I had time to reflect—specifically about my plans for the somewhat distant future. What do I want to do? Of course, I want to reach the heights of magic and unravel its mysteries, but I also felt a subtle desire to return home.

 

It’s a strange feeling, one I hadn’t really considered until today. But it’s there—a dream. Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts aside. I couldn’t imagine returning to my native world and losing all my magical abilities.

 

No, I must first learn to transform into my mythical forms, complete the research on the fruit I received in Crete, and uncover what other secrets the Philosopher’s Stone holds. Only after I’ve studied all that can I even think about seeking the possibility of traveling between worlds.

 

With those thoughts, I drifted off to sleep and woke the next morning feeling rested. It’s a pleasant sensation, incomparable to anything else. After stretching, I quickly got ready and went down for breakfast, which was included with the hotel stay.

 

The banquet hall was fairly empty. Most tourists were either still asleep or had already gone about their day. But as I scanned the hall more closely, I noticed a group of men in the corner, speaking animatedly and gesturing. They were dressed in expensive suits, and their security, seated at nearby tables, kept a close watch on their surroundings. Their eyes locked on me, attempting to "pressure" me into leaving.

 

But… what the hell? If something’s bothering them, they should leave themselves.

 

Ignoring their stares, I began serving myself breakfast: fried sausages, porridge with jam, a bit of fruit, and a nice mint tea. The security guards kept watching me, but didn’t react.

 

Suddenly, one of the men at the table slammed his hand down, causing the others to fall silent for a moment. Uninterested in their conversation, I continued with my breakfast. The porridge was actually quite decent.

 

After grabbing another muffin, I returned to my table to enjoy some more tea. The tea was good, though it had a slightly off quality that spoiled the experience. But let’s not dwell on that.

 

I sensed someone approaching me.

 

“Excuse me, could you leave this area?” one of the guards asked, his hands in his pockets.

 

“Why?” I asked.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of the hotel staff quickly running off. Returning my attention to the guard, I caught his gaze and quickly “scanned” him for important information. Was he a wizard or not? It turned out he wasn’t, nor were any of the others. None of the men in suits or the guards were magical.

 

“You’re in the way.”

 

“Look, I paid for my room and breakfast,” I replied calmly. “Why should I have to leave?”

 

Ruining my mood first thing in the morning—damn Muggles. Irritation slowly simmered within me, though I hadn’t yet shown it. I smiled at the guard, while he remained unaware of just how thin the ice beneath him was.

 

“How much?” he asked, pulling out some cash from his jacket. “I think five hundred dollars should be enough.”

 

He counted out five high-denomination bills and placed them on the table. What was I supposed to do with them? What would I do with them? If he had placed a check for five hundred Galleons, I might have considered it. But Muggle money, which holds no real value for me… what use do I have for it?

 

Taking a deep breath, I calmed myself, feeling the Death Veil stirring within me. If it broke free, there would be nothing left of this city. And this city isn’t small… destroying it would mean they’d hunt me down until either I or the hunters were dead.

 

“Gentlemen,” a man with a small badge reading “manager” approached us. He was a wizard, which meant he could assess the situation more appropriately. He even had some mental defenses in place—weak, but enough to stop an inexperienced Legilimens. His wand was holstered inside his jacket, ready for use at a moment’s notice.

 

“We reserved this hall,” the guard said.

 

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “There was no sign of that…”

 

I glanced around the hall again and saw no indication of a reservation. Now the question was… do I want to start a conflict? I want to, but is it worth it, or would it just complicate things? Probably the latter. A conflict would cause news to spread quickly, leading to trouble with local Aurors, other wizards, hotel staff… and a lot of headaches. Do I need that? No. So, I’ll avoid escalation, even if I’d rather not.

 

It was clear the manager-wizard was thinking fast, trying to resolve the situation. He noticed the money and nodded to himself.

 

“I apologize, sir,” he said to me. “This was our mistake. The esteemed gentleman and his companions did, in fact, reserve the hall for breakfast. Allow the hotel to compensate for the inconvenience.”

 

The guard smirked smugly and took the money. The manager then pulled out his own checkbook, wrote something down, and handed me a slip. A quick glance revealed it was for fifty Galleons. Fine… an insult from the hotel, but I’ll take it.

 

“Alright,” I nodded and stood up. “Have a nice day.”

 

“The same to you,” the guard replied, grinning at my back. The manager stayed behind, clearing my table.

 

I noticed the guard approach the manager and say something. In response, the manager handed him a check as well.

 

Fifty Galleons—what an insult. Sure, some might be thrilled with that amount, but to me, it’s nothing. Dust. I even wore my two master rings, but the manager didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps he simply didn’t know their significance…

 

To wash away this insult, their compensation would have to be far greater. When the manager finally left, he cast a quick glance my way, then disappeared. No goodbye, no farewell. Decision made—I’ll take a proper compensation myself.

 

This casino caters to both Muggles and wizards. While I have no interest in Muggle money, the Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in the wizarding part of the casino certainly interest me.

 

Flipping a coin, I decided to leave it up to fate. Turning my head aside and giving the coin a spin to avoid seeing which side would land on top, I tossed it into the air. After catching it, I pressed it into my palm with my eyes closed. Let’s see what fate has in store.

 

If it lands heads, I’ll go steal the casino’s precious Galleons. If it’s tails, I’ll let it go. Opening my eyes, I saw tails.

 

“Heh,” I sighed, pocketing the coin. The casino was lucky this time. Oh well, fifty Galleons it is.

 

Over the next few days, I wandered through local shops in search of interesting items. And there were quite a few: resources from nearby magical zones, artifacts from South America, and even books containing various types of knowledge. For the most part, after indirectly studying the books, I realized I could explain many of the concepts better than the authors and even demonstrate them in practice. To ensure my shopping trips were worthwhile, I focused on acquiring materials in areas where I lacked expertise. For example, I picked up books on potions, runes, astronomy, numerology, and other lesser-known disciplines.

 

In addition to this, I filled my bottomless bag with rare ingredients for artifacts and potions—items that were hard to find in Europe. I didn’t hold back, spending a little over a thousand Galleons in total. These were for my personal use as well as gifts for other wizards.

 

While my wallet was slightly thinner after this, it wasn’t enough to leave me penniless. I still had regular gold, which I could later exchange at Gringotts for the magical currency equivalent.

 

Of course, I attended a few local "master classes" on various areas of magic. But let’s just say… they didn’t live up to their name. The presenters weren’t true masters of their respective branches of magic. At times, they spouted complete nonsense while the wizards in the audience listened and seriously debated, pretending to be experts themselves.

 

I also went to a show called DuelMania, where wizards turned duels into entertainment, using flashy and dangerous-looking spells. But in reality, it was all just a performance—none of the “duelists” even tried to harm each other. Still, it was fun, and the younger wizards seemed to enjoy it.

 

One evening, while walking back from the show, I turned into a dark alley and was stopped by a group of young men who were drinking something. They eyed me curiously but didn’t make any moves or try to stop me. I had thought they might try to shake me down for money, but no…

 

The Muggle part of Las Vegas was just as lively as the magical one—if not more so. In fact, it was buzzing with life. Muggles in expensive cars pulled up to equally expensive buildings, escorting dancers from local cabarets. Well-dressed gentlemen escorted equally well-dressed ladies, or just tourists, all heading toward the casinos, where they’d lose money and enjoy it.

 

“Hey,” a hand suddenly dropped onto my shoulder.

 

I turned slowly and immediately recognized the familiar guard. This encounter was far too unexpected.

 

“Get in the car,” he said, trying to push me, but… it didn’t work. Moving a wizard who doesn’t want to be moved, especially one trained in combat magic, is no easy task. “What the—?”

 

“Hurry up,” a high-pitched voice squeaked from the car.

 

Relaxing slightly, I let them shove me inside. The interior was smoky, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. I found myself seated next to another guard I’d seen at the hotel earlier that morning. The one who had shoved me into the car sat next to me and closed the door, probably thinking they had successfully trapped me. Heh.

 

Leaning back, I sprawled out a bit, surprising the others in the car. The guard beside me tried to punch me in the torso, but… what is the punch of a simple Muggle against a master of Transfiguration? Without needing a wand, I instantly transfigured a hard steel plate to take the brunt of the punch. At this point, it was more accurate to call him a kidnapper.

 

We drove through the city in silence. For added protection, I began transfiguring an almost invisible material onto myself, something that could stop bullets. Such materials don’t exist in the Muggle world because they can’t be created without magic. On top of that, I cast a strengthening charm. Well, let’s see what kind of trump cards they think they have.

 

“Psh-psh-psh,” the radio hissed as the surrounding magic interfered. “Pshgg-g-shg.”

 

“Ugh,” the driver grumbled, glancing at the dashboard. “Looks like we need a new battery.”

 

“Swing by Miguel’s later,” muttered the kid in the front seat. Only now did I notice his tattooed face in the reflection. The most notable feature was the teardrops beneath his eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if he actually enjoyed walking around with such a scribbled-up face. It looked like a child had gotten hold of a pen and decided to doodle. A mess of squiggles, but he seemed pleased with it.

 

We drove beyond the city limits and entered a neighborhood surrounded by a low fence. It appeared to be some kind of upscale area for wealthy Muggles. We pulled up to a luxurious house and parked in the garage, the door closing behind us.

 

I was shoved out of the car and noticed several other guys with weapons, all glaring at me with killer intent. But… who’s the real killer here? Keeping a neutral expression, I waited to see what would happen next. They tied my hands with some kind of plastic cord and began searching me. But without a wizard’s permission, no Muggle will ever find a wand or other magical items.

 

Somewhere in the backyard, a loud party was underway, judging by the rhythmic music. Inside, at a small bar table, three women were sniffing drugs handed out by two pig-like twins. We walked past them and descended into the basement.

 

The decor became even more luxurious as we entered a large office. Behind the desk sat a man with a big cigar in his mouth. He wore a white cowboy hat, a matching white jacket with gold embroidery, and several large rings on his fingers.

 

I was seated in a comfortable chair. The man took a deep drag on his cigar and blew the smoke right in my face. The urge to blow his head off was strong. Our eyes met, and I felt a very weak attempt to penetrate my mind.

 

Unexpected. My mental defenses easily reflected the attack—so easily that they barely registered it. The man didn’t react at all.

 

“You know,” he began, speaking with a slight accent, “when we met, you behaved very disrespectfully. You insulted me, my companions, and their families and ancestors.”

 

It sounded a bit odd, but I let him continue.

 

“And for such an insult to my dear mamacita, you have to pay,” he said. “Some pay with blood, some with money. How will you pay?”

 

“And how much would it cost to apologize?” I asked.

 

“One million dollars,” he said slowly, pulling out a gold-plated revolver with a diamond-encrusted handle. It looked expensive. He opened the chamber, spun it, and then snapped it shut again.

 

Alright, it’s time to end this farce. With a flick of my magic, my hands were free. A wave of my hand, and all the guards around us fell asleep. Another wave, and their weapons were disabled. One more flick, and all the entrances and exits to the room were sealed.

 

The man in the white hat sat there, his mouth agape. His cigar fell to the floor. I summoned his weapon to me and tucked it into my bag. It might come in handy later.

 

“Now then,” I said, more relaxed. With another flick of my hand, his hat tumbled to the ground. “Let me clarify something… You’re not locked in here with me. I’m locked in here with you. Got it? Now, be a darling and let me read your mind.”

 

Without giving him time to react, I plunged into his mind, searching for everything he knew about wizards… and I was disappointed. He wasn’t a wizard—he didn’t even know about the magical world. But he had developed a minor Legilimency ability, likely without realizing it. Being from an area rife with crime bosses, it wasn’t surprising he’d gone down that path. Using Legilimency, he’d swiftly climbed to the top of one of the biggest cartels, eliminating rivals and indulging in constant parties with models, actresses, and the best luxuries money could buy.

 

What was surprising was that no wizards had come after him yet. Was it negligence, or was someone powerful protecting him?

 

Just then, I sensed several magical surges, as if someone had Apparated directly into the house, followed by the formation of an anti-Apparition barrier. Looks like I’d get my answer sooner than expected. I put the drug lord to sleep, transfigured a large, comfortable chair, and sat down to wait for the wizards to arrive.

 

They didn’t take long. They burst into the room, not forgetting to throw in a flash spell. But with my shield in place, I simply ignored it.

 

A second later, four wizards stormed in, immediately firing spells at me. Deflecting them with my shield wasn’t an issue—they were all casting the same basic spells. I had braced myself for curses or even the Killing Curse, but none came, which was a relief.

 

With a flick of my wand, I slammed the four wizards into the wall. Their wands flew into my hand, and they fell asleep. I hadn’t even needed to stand up. Too easy. Who were these amateurs?

 

Transfiguring my body into air and dust, I left a decoy in the chair. Concealing myself with every charm I knew, I stuck myself to the ceiling, making it nearly impossible to detect me.

 

Just then, a small machine rolled into the room. It paused for a second, staring at my transfigured decoy. With a quick command, I made the decoy wave a friendly hello. The machine immediately retreated, and ten seconds later, several round objects flew into the room.

 

A spell saved me from the barrage of flashes, and then a group of people armed with Muggle weapons stormed in. The first one started shooting at my decoy without stopping, soon joined by a second, third, fourth, and even a fifth. The noise was deafening. When their weapons finally fell silent, they began reloading, all the while staring at my decoy, which showed no signs of life, not even bleeding. This clearly unnerved them.

 

I was more interested in who they were and what kind of mess I had gotten myself into. With a flick of my wand, my decoy suddenly stood up, as if the hail of bullets hadn’t affected it at all. This spooked the shooters, and they opened fire again. The decoy stood there, untouched by the bullets.

 

Unfortunately, the drug lord behind the desk wasn’t so lucky. He was riddled with bullets, his blood pooling on the floor, unlike my decoy, which remained unfazed by the gunfire.

 

With another flick of my wand, all five men fell asleep. Now what? Can I get out of here? Of course. If anyone on my level had been present, I wouldn’t have been able to hide for so long. So breaking out won’t be a problem. Now I had to think about my safety. I couldn’t let these people remember my face. What to do? Right—erase their memories, or… kill them. They clearly had no intention of letting me leave unharmed, and their protection of a Muggle crime boss showed they were involved in such dealings.

 

Two flicks of my wand, and instead of sleeping bodies, there were now corpses. I shrank them into small cubes and stashed them in my pocket, along with the drug lord’s body.

 

Descending from the ceiling, I calmly made my way to the exit. Climbing the stairs, I entered another room and froze. Five wizards were standing there, discussing their next move. They froze when they saw me. One raised his wand, but it was far too slow. A sleep spell, followed by death. Then they, too, were turned into cubes and tucked into my pocket. Throwing on an invisibility charm, I stepped outside.

 

There were still a few more wizards outside, keeping an eye on the surroundings and the Muggles they had put to sleep. I passed by them calmly, exiting the anti-Apparition barrier before transporting myself back to the magical part of Las Vegas.

 

I returned to my room and began studying the newly acquired memories. First, I focused on one of the wizards who had stormed in during the first wave. His name was John, an operator in the CIA’s M Division. This meant he was part of a government organization—a wizard working for the state. Their division dealt with drug trafficking among both Muggles and wizards, earning them substantial money in both Galleons and dollars. I was particularly interested in the Galleons, as they might come in handy. From his memory, I identified their leader, or as they called him, the handler, and began studying his memories as well.

 

The handler’s name was Drew, a slightly more experienced wizard than John—about the level of a Hogwarts graduate. He had attended Ilvermorny, so his level of knowledge and power wasn’t surprising. Drew’s memories provided me with more useful information, allowing me to assess the situation and weigh my options.

 

After studying his memory, one thing became clear: the loss of so many people would force the CIA and the entire M Division to work tirelessly to find the culprit. They didn’t have any particularly powerful wizards, though they did have a few Masters, including some Masters of Combat Magic. While I might be able to overpower individual Masters, I couldn’t take on the entire M Division if they attacked together. After all, even a mammoth can be brought down by a crowd.

 

That meant one thing: I needed to leave as soon as possible. Having made my decision, I prepared to depart from this “hospitable” hotel—and the city itself.

 

Finding a shop to buy a Portkey wasn’t difficult. Since there were no single Portkeys available, I joined a group that had paid for transport. After arriving in New York, I had to wait until morning to buy a Portkey to Halifax.

 

Only then did the feeling of being pursued begin to fade.

 

***

 

In a large office at MACUSA, several wizards were studying images on a big screen. Agents from the M Division, part of the CIA, were investigating the scene and reviewing various pieces of information. But nothing was adding up… It looked like no one had even been in that basement. Yet their people couldn’t have just vanished. That meant someone had been there.

 

“None of this makes sense,” one of the wizards said angrily, tossing his papers aside. “What about your team?”

 

“The same,” the other sighed. “The Las Vegas police found no leads. The bodies haven’t surfaced anywhere. Honestly, I think we’ll never see them again.”

 

At that moment, the door slowly opened, and a short wizard with slightly graying hair entered. He was one of the investigators searching for the culprit behind the incident.

 

“Well,” he said, “the only thing I can say is that we’re dealing with a very powerful wizard. I don’t know how our ‘donkey’ got mixed up with him, but we’re not going to find him anytime soon.”

 

“Is the investigation being closed?” one of the wizards, who had been silent until now, asked.

 

“No, it’s just being moved to secondary cases,” the graying wizard replied. “First, we need to patch the holes and rebuild the division. We’ll return to this case actively once the division is restored.”

 

“I see.”