“Brat, you’re just in time.” The moment Witt entered the dungeon, Gryffindor grabbed him.
The next second, both of them vanished.
“Urgh—” Witt dropped to the ground and retched.
It took him quite a while to recover enough to stand.
“Couldn’t you at least give me some warning first?” Gryffindor ignored his complaint.
He bent down and picked up a shattered plank from the ground.
Its surface was covered in black, scale like patterns.
“Looks like he hasn’t left yet.” “Brat, search the area.
See if you can find anyone still alive.
Pay particular attention to timid looking children, the sort who seem meek and easy to bully.” “If you find one, don’t approach on your own.
Signal me immediately.” “You’re into that sort of thing?” Witt instinctively took half a step backwards.
Thump!
He had only just gotten back onto his feet before Gryffindor punched him straight onto the ground again.
“Stop running your mouth and get moving.
This is important.” “Oh.” Witt climbed back up, dusted himself off, and finally began taking a proper look at his surroundings.
They were standing in a ruined village.
Fresh splinters of wood littered the ground, their broken edges still sharp.
The earth itself looked as though something enormous had ploughed through it, leaving deep intersecting furrows.
Traces of blood remained in the churned soil.
Every few steps, Witt came across another mangled corpse.
Their bodies were covered in the same scale like cracks.
How could anyone possibly still be alive here?
Witt stood in the middle of the village.
Everything around him looked like a painting that had been ripped apart and scattered into pieces.
He shook his head and walked a little farther.
Then he suddenly heard the wind howling from the right side of the village.
Every so often, a mass of black, thread like shapes flashed through the air above the rooftops.
Witt hurried towards it.
Black afterimages filled the sky.
The dark mist carried shattered stones and splinters of wood with it, relentlessly battering the red figure at the centre.
“Does it really need to be this ridiculous?” Witt carefully hid behind the remains of a half-collapsed wall.
He was fairly certain that if one of those attacks hit him, he’d be crippled even if he somehow survived.
Gryffindor stood in the midst of the black storm like a reef against a raging tide, utterly immovable.
A spell surrounded and protected him.
No matter how violently the thing attacked, it couldn’t shake him in the slightest.
Gryffindor was completely focused on dealing with the black creature.
He had no attention to spare.
Which meant…
Should I ambush him?
Witt tightened his grip on his wand, hesitating.
Something about this felt wrong.
There was no reason Gryffindor should trust him this much.
Witt had tried to kill the man with the Killing Curse only yesterday, and yet today he’d somehow been handed another perfect opportunity for a sneak attack.
Wasn’t that a little too convenient?
While Witt was still hesitating, a spell suddenly shot out from the forest to the right.
It shattered Gryffindor’s defence in a single strike.
The Obscurus slammed into him immediately afterward, sending him flying and making him spit out a mouthful of blood.
The situation became dangerous in an instant.
Fortunately, Gryffindor hadn’t been completely incapacitated.
He’d merely been caught off guard by the ambush.
He sprang back to his feet almost immediately, wand in one hand and sword in the other.
Caught between the Obscurus and the unknown wizard, he gradually stabilised the battle.
Neither side could gain the upper hand.
Then another heaven sent opportunity appeared.
For some inexplicable reason, Gryffindor ended up locked in a magical clash with the other wizard while simultaneously swinging his sword to fend off the Obscurus.
It was a flawless opening.
Witt was certain that if he attacked now, he would succeed.
Emmm…
Yeah, right.
Like I’m falling for that.
If this had happened yesterday, Witt would have attacked without hesitation.
Back then, Gryffindor hadn’t known him yet.
There would have been no reason for him to put on an act.
But now?
Witt had only one thing to say.
You devious old bastard.
What perfect opening?
It was obviously bait.
“Avada Kedavra!” Witt swung his wand.
Several ghostly wraiths twisted around the jet of green light.
The curse struck the wizard who was locked in the magical clash with Gryffindor and unable to defend himself.
He died instantly.
Less than two seconds later, the black creature that had previously been fighting Gryffindor evenly was dealt with as well.
“How did you know?” Gryffindor wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
To make the performance convincing, he’d genuinely allowed the Obscurus to hit him.
And the brat hadn’t even taken the bait.
That blow had been a complete waste.
Witt rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think anyone would trust someone who tried to ambush and kill them yesterday.” “What if I really couldn’t handle them?” Gryffindor wasn’t satisfied with that answer.
His acting had been perfect.
There was no way anyone should have seen through it.
“I already told you, I’m from more than a thousand years in the future.” Witt stared at him speechlessly.
“A man known as the greatest duellist of his age gets caught completely flat footed by some random trouble?” “If that were really how you fought, you’d have died ages ago.” “That embarrassing little performance just now was an insult to my intelligence.” “Really?
I’m actually remembered as the greatest duellist of my era?” Gryffindor scratched his head and burst into hearty laughter.
Witt simply stared at him with his eyes rolled upward.
He wanted to see how long Gryffindor could keep laughing awkwardly.
Before long, Gryffindor’s laughter began to die away.
You miserable brat.
Can’t you give me an easy way out of this?
Thump!
Witt was punched onto the ground yet again.
As an outstanding duellist, Gryffindor strongly believed in one particular principle, If you couldn’t win the argument, hit them.
What if the other person was stronger?
Gryffindor could only spread his hands and sigh.
Unfortunately, he’d never encountered that particular problem.
“We’re leaving.” Taking advantage of the moment while Witt was still sprawled on the ground, Gryffindor stood and beckoned him along.
Witt followed behind him with one hand clutching his head and his lips pursed unhappily.
The instant he completed this Quest, he was going to buy materials and forge himself a helmet.
Seriously.
Who went outside without a helmet?
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Outside the village, Witt stared at the child before him.
He couldn’t have been more than eight years old.
“That was the black thing from earlier?” “You don’t have them in your era?” Gryffindor filled in the grave, burying the child beneath the earth.
“Never heard of one,” Witt answered honestly.
“Then it seems I was right to insist.” A warm smile appeared on Gryffindor’s face.
He looked genuinely pleased.
Insist?
Witt lowered his voice.
“You mean your argument with Slytherin?” “Yes.” At the mention of Slytherin, Gryffindor’s voice grew somewhat heavier.
“I imagine you already know that he wanted Hogwarts to accept only pure-blood witches and wizards.” Gryffindor sighed.
“There is nothing inherently wrong with a school accepting only pure-bloods.
Many schools elsewhere do exactly that.” “But we did not establish Hogwarts merely to teach magic.” Gryffindor sat down and gently brushed the small gravestone in front of him.
“Obscuruses.
Obscurials.” “Every year, when we seek out new students, I encounter one or two cases like this.” “Young witches and wizards become frightened of their own magic and suppress it.
And in doing so, they create an Obscurus.” “An uncontrolled Obscurus will destroy everything in its path.” “Before it finally consumes its host, it may cause unimaginable devastation—” “and take many lives with it.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Hidden_Quill Thank you so much for reading!