Chapter 137. Three Sides' Reactions
In the dense jungle, a group of wizards wrapped in black robes trudged slowly through the tangled roots.
Their wary eyes swept the surroundings, their wands gripped tight, bodies taut, looking extremely tense.
One of them felt a chill from the rising wind, glanced up, and said, "Looks like it's going to rain..."
The other wizards followed his gaze, staring at the clouds above as if the sky itself were about to press down, and their nerves tightened even more.
"Damn it, why would it rain?" the wizard bringing up the rear complained. "If it pours later, it'll be even harder to find those annoying rats, and since they're hiding in the dark, they might even counter-ambush us..."
"Shut up!" the leading wizard barked.
The side of his mask was carved with the image of a chess soldier.
"We will catch that damned pack of rats.
If you dare say anything like that again, you know the consequences!"
"Yes, sir."
The wizard who had spoken earlier hurriedly lowered his head, not daring to meet the pawn-mask wizard's gaze.
The pawn-mask wizard nodded in satisfaction and was about to call the group to move on and search for the ones who had made them suffer.
But a wizard suddenly stepped out of line and came up beside him.
"Sir, there's news."
"What is it?" the pawn-mask wizard asked, his eyes flicking over.
"The key the Bishop requires has appeared, and it's in this forest," the wizard said, pointing at a black dot that had only just appeared on the map.
"Oh?" the pawn-mask wizard murmured, twirling his wand. "Which direction is the key?"
The map-holder compared the surroundings for a moment, then raised his hand and pointed to the right.
"Over here."
"Good.
We're going there," the pawn-mask wizard said without hesitation.
"Huh?" another wizard asked, puzzled. "Aren't we going after those rats?"
"Cole, who said they can't be over there?" the pawn-mask wizard said, eyes glinting with danger.
At the same time he thought, "That key is favoured by the Master, the very thing Bishop Charles asked for by name.
Are Scamander and the others more important than the key?
A bunch of fools who can't grasp even that."
Under the pawn-mask wizard's stare, Cole broke into a cold sweat, hurriedly shook his head, backed away, and dared not object again.
At the pawn-mask wizard's order, they changed direction and sprinted at full speed toward the key that was moving rapidly through the forest.
...
"Newt, judging by the sky, it's likely to rain!"
With a haggard face, Tina leaned against a thick tree, peering through the gaps in the leaves at the ink-dark heavens.
Newt, who was helping a middle-aged wizard dress a wound, looked up and said, "This might be our chance.
If the rain comes down hard enough later, let's go to that gorge again.
We might succeed this time."
Tina gave a slight nod.
Since reuniting with Newt yesterday, she had already learned the whole story.
Even if not for Newt, as someone who had once served as an Auror, she would not sit by and let a tragedy happen.
"Silvanus, what are you looking at?"
Out of the corner of her eye Tina noticed Professor Kettleburn standing nearby.
Somewhat puzzled, she asked him.
From some time ago until now, Professor Kettleburn had been staring up at the sky, brow knitted, as if thinking hard.
"I feel like I've seen this somewhere before..." Professor Kettleburn muttered to himself.
"What?" Newt said, puzzled. "Isn't it always like this before a downpour?"
"No, not that..." Professor Kettleburn said quietly, pacing back and forth.
Suddenly his face showed dawning comprehension.
"I remember now.
I saw it at Hogwarts.
It's a kind of magic Duncan cast!"
"Duncan?" Tina sprang to her feet in alarm. "Didn't you say he was still in town?
We haven't even sent word to him yet.
Why would he come into the forest?
It's too dangerous — those people are still prowling the woods!
If Duncan bumps into them, what then?
No, I have to go find him now!"
"Wait."
Newt raised a hand to calm the anxious Tina, and looked to the side.
A small Occamy was perched on a branch fork.
It had a serpent's body, gorgeous feathers all over, and wings at its sides.
Newt couldn't understand the Occamy's language, but he knew them well and could read the special meaning in their movements.
After observing carefully for a moment, Newt turned and said, "According to our scouts' report, the patrolling wizards nearby have all withdrawn, and they're purposefully heading in the same direction."
"Huh?
Did they find Duncan?" Tina's face changed. "We should go help him now!"
"Tina, don't rush," Professor Kettleburn said. "Think carefully — if Duncan wanted to hide himself, would he use a wide-area spell like this?
Wouldn't that be deliberately exposing his position and setting himself up as a target!"
"You mean?" Tina frowned.
"I don't think Duncan is that foolish.
He's doing it on purpose," Professor Kettleburn said.
"He wants to create an opening for us and throw the forest into chaos!"
"And the facts show he's done it.
Those wizards have pulled out — so it'll be much easier for us to break into the gorge!"
Newt hesitated in silence for a long moment, then looked at Tina.
"We..."
Tina took a deep breath, forced out the words through clenched teeth, and cut Newt off.
"To the gorge!"
The wizards around them — some lying down, some sitting — rose to their feet and gathered around Newt.
They were all Newt's friends who had rushed over after receiving his message, joining this fierce fight that had little to do with them, heedless of their own safety.
"Duncan, you mustn't get hurt.
Hold on until Granny can come help you!" Tina thought anxiously, running with the other wizards toward the gorge.
If the defences there had weakened, they would strike at once.
...
"Master, it looks like it's going to rain soon."
A hooded, rather thin man looked up at the sky and panted heavily as he spoke.
"Never mind that, Quirrell.
I can feel it.
The Scamanders are nearby.
Find them quickly."
On the back of the man's head, a face writhed.
Its mouth opened and closed slowly, spitting out a hoarse, rasping voice.
"Master, I don't quite understand why we have to listen to those people.
They're nothing but—"
Discontent coloured Quirrell's tone.
After fleeing Hogwarts, Voldemort had taken him to the gorge.
But to his surprise, they were not treated with any favour; those people had instead set them to all sorts of odd jobs.
Though they had helped regulate his body so he wasn't quite so weak, what he'd received fell far short of what he had put in.
Voldemort wanted to snarl, If not for you, fool, would we be in this mess?
But before he could speak, he sensed a familiar aura from the massed clouds overhead.
"Scamander?" Voldemort murmured, puzzled.
"Master, are they close by?" Quirrell lifted his wand, looking around warily.
"No.
Another little Scamander," Voldemort said through clenched teeth.
"Duncan Scamander!"
"Huh?" Quirrell's eyes widened.
"What is he doing here?"
Voldemort did not reply.
He felt for a moment with his eyes closed, then opened them and said, "Go to your right, and keep after it!"
"We're not going after Newt Scamander?" Quirrell asked.
"They're unimportant!" Voldemort said.
"That little Scamander is the one who most deserves to die!"
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