Who Made Wanda Angry? – Part 2
Narcissa stood in the middle of a vast open field. Behind her rose a great construction, towering right at the edge of a crystalline, majestic lake. The place had been bustling with activity until just minutes ago, but now the workers were fleeing in a rush, trying to secure every corner. In front of her, a crowd of hooded wizards had appeared with clear intentions: to destroy everything.
It wasn't the first time she had suffered an attack. In recent weeks she had dealt with infiltrated spies, "accidents" that delayed the work, and small hidden acts of sabotage. Yet this was different. This was a full-scale assault, a direct message.
And the reason was obvious: everyone knew that once completed, these projects would become gold mines. Narcissa had invested alongside England's most influential families, ensuring that when the constructions were finished, the galleons would flow endlessly into their pockets. Monopoly was on the horizon, and with it, the resentment of their rivals.
Edward and the others in charge of similar projects were likely facing the same problems. But this time, the enemies had chosen to attack the supposed weak link: Narcissa Malfoy.
A rain of spells fell upon the workers, who could barely defend themselves while trying to protect the structure behind them. Some of the hooded wizards even invoked Fiendfyre, twisted flames threatening to devour everything in seconds.
Narcissa's face remained unshaken. With an elegant flick of her wand, the lake behind her began to stir. The water rose like a colossal serpent and, roaring against the air, hurled itself upon the black flames, extinguishing them with a thunderous hiss of steam.
The attackers faltered. It was undeniable: the woman before them was no easy target.
"Surround her! The rest of you, destroy the building!" roared the leader, his voice dripping with urgency.
Narcissa did not respond. Her cold, proud gaze spoke for her. With another gesture of her wand, the statues that decorated the façade of the building shuddered. They were hidden golems, created for this very moment. One by one, they detached from the walls and, like ancestral guardians, marched forward with swords and shields to form a defensive line.
The hooded wizards unleashed their spells against them, but every fallen golem liquefied into a silvery metal that reassembled itself within seconds. Reconstruction, crowd control, a hint of intelligence: the very same magic Harry and the others had once encountered in the dungeon with Sirius.
Meanwhile, a dozen wizards charged directly at Narcissa. The water at her feet surged upward in liquid tentacles, lashing violently at the attackers and deflecting curses before they could touch her. The field turned into a chaos of spells, water, and enchanted steel.
The workers, stunned, watched as the "decorations" of the site—golems they had thought to be nothing but empty suits of armor—fought like a living army.
Narcissa stood in the very center of it all, soaked by the spray of the lake, her blonde hair disheveled by the dampness, yet her posture remained regal. She moved her wand with the precision of a conductor, each flick and stroke dictating the choreography of the water. The comparison was inevitable: those who had once seen Dumbledore fight remembered his dance with fire. But here, Narcissa was his perfect counterpart, a mirror made of water.
"Damn it! Forget the building, attack her only!" ordered the leader, watching his advance crumble.
A liquid roar answered. A jet of pressurized water shot from the lake, slamming full force into one of the hooded men and sending him flying, his bones cracking under the sheer impact.
But by focusing on Narcissa, the attackers neglected the golems. The guardians pounced on the distracted wizards, cutting them with swords that gleamed under the water dripping from their metallic bodies.
The leader lost his composure. His voice turned desperate. "Just kill her already! Avada Kedavra!"
The green bolt shot forth like a deadly arrow, tearing through the air straight at Narcissa.
She reacted instantly. With a firm movement of her wand, the ground shook and a wall of earth rose up, absorbing the impact of the killing curse. The water she had been controlling collapsed all at once, splashing across the battlefield.
The hooded wizards saw their chance. "All together now!" the leader screamed.
Ten wands were raised at the same time. Ten green bolts streaked across the field toward Narcissa, shining like lightning made of death.
She pressed her lips together, her gaze fixed on every single one. Her golems closed ranks around her, shields raised high, glowing with ancient runes. Narcissa lifted her wand, ready to counterattack—
But then, the impossible happened.
The killing curses froze in midair. The green bolts hung motionless, suspended as if time itself had been trapped in an invisible cage.
The entire field fell silent. The hooded wizards looked around in horror. Something—or someone—had intervened.
This curse was supposed to have no counter. No magical barrier could stop it; only a physical obstacle—stone, metal, earth—could stand in its way. And yet here they were: the killing curses, hanging frozen, as though the world itself had refused to let them advance.
The hooded men glanced at each other, confusion etched on their faces.
"Wh-what's happening?" the leader stammered, his voice trembling, before lifting his wand once more. "Ava—"
He never finished. A hand appeared out of nowhere, pressing against the back of his head. A scream tore from his throat, raw and terrified, as though he had glimpsed a nightmare too great to name. Then he collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
The rest spun around sharply—and saw him fall. Behind him stood Wanda, her eyes cold as ice, staring at them in silence.
An instant later, her figure dissolved into scarlet dust. Another scream rang out, and when they turned toward the sound, another hooded man had already fallen. The pattern repeated: a scream, a glimpse of Wanda, a body dropping lifelessly into unconsciousness.
The few remaining wizards began to shake, their instincts screaming at them to flee. Finally, one of them turned to run—
But she was there already, in front of him, her hand raised toward his head.
Suddenly, reality distorted. The sky turned blood-red, and hundreds of demonic creatures writhed up around him, prowling with gaping maws, ready to devour him. The man screamed with a primitive terror… and collapsed to the ground like the others.
…
Wanda released the last attacker, letting him fall inert onto the damp grass. None of them had died: they needed them alive to learn who had masterminded the assault. But the psychological damage she had inflicted was irreparable. With a single snap of her fingers, blue bubbles began to rise from the unconscious bodies, drifting like soap bubbles until they popped in the air.
Narcissa, exhausted but impeccable, sighed with a touch of relief. She flicked her wand and, in an instant, her hair and clothes dried and arranged themselves perfectly. The golems, obedient, returned to their positions on the façade as if nothing had happened.
She watched the blue bubbles fade for a moment.
"I suspected it… in the end everything fit together too easily. It was always you," Narcissa said calmly, fixing her eyes on Wanda.
But instead of reproach or rancor, a soft laugh escaped her lips, as if it weighed nothing at all.
"I thought you had seen all my memories, like with the others," Wanda replied, raising an eyebrow.
"When I reached Lucius's memories, I stopped. I thought I would feel something, but I didn't… nothing. I suppose deep down we all knew how it would end, knowing what he had done. Actually, it was liberating."
Narcissa spoke calmly, with no trace of pain in her voice. Since Lucius's death, life for her and for Draco had only improved: without the constant fear that her husband's secret as a Death Eater would be exposed, without the threat of their family being pulled back into darkness. Lucius had brought no light into their lives—only chains.
"Ah…" Narcissa scanned the devastated field: mud, scorched grass, unconscious bodies and the partially damaged construction. The large modern building still stood, and in the middle of the lake another structure rose: a squared platform with stands, prepared for competition and leisure. "Better bring someone else to help. I don't think this will be the last attack."
"I can stay for a while if you need me," Wanda offered, gathering the fallen bodies into a single point with a motion of her hand.
"No. Better go watch our children. Just bring me the useless one." Narcissa crossed her arms coldly.
Wanda nodded without argument. She raised her hand and, in an instant, a red portal opened before them.
Through it, Sirius's office could be seen. Or rather, Remus Lupin was bent over a desk, exhausted, reviewing and signing papers, while Sirius lay back on a nearby sofa, talking incessantly.
"…that's why I say we need a big party to celebrate Harry's coming of age. Something that will show him the beauty of life," Sirius said with a brazen smile.
"Stop joking. He's far too young. He won't be seventeen for years, and his mother will kill you before you try that," Lupin muttered without lifting his head from the papers.
"Don't worry. We can use the same tactic we used with James the day we came of age. My godmother Euphemia never found out, but godfather Fleamont took us to an amazing place. I wonder if it still exists?"
Behind him, on the other side of the portal, Wanda and Narcissa watched with a mixture of contempt and repulsion.
"Now that I think about it, Draco too. Both of them are quite handsome at their age and don't even take advantage. When James and I arrived at Hogwarts we already had fan clubs! James even joined the Quidditch team to attract more girls. Those two look like monks. I'll have to give them some tips. Remember how the girls followed me at school? They even tried to give me love potions. One time they gave me a chocolate and that traitor Wormtail stole it. He ended up following that horrible Flint around like a lapdog… hahaha!"
Sirius laughed to himself, enjoying the memory, unaware of the mortal danger that loomed behind him. Lupin, exhausted, looked up… and froze when he saw Wanda and Narcissa framed in the portal, their faces as sharp as blades.
He made frantic gestures at his friend to be quiet, but Sirius kept on monologuing.
"Now that I think about it, the girls joke that Harry is a playboy, but he's not there yet. As his godfather I'll have to teach him a few things. And although it pains me to say it, that idiot Lucius also had his fans. Draco needs to learn some things too; after all I'm something like his uncle-cousin," he added, digging a deeper hole for himself.
Then a sense of danger ran down Sirius's spine. He turned… and his eyes widened. Wanda stood there, in the Scarlet Witch's attire, and beside her Narcissa gripped her wand so tightly her knuckles had gone white.
Sirius swallowed and slowly turned to Lupin for help. But his friend had already made a decision: he rose, walked calmly to the door, stepped out of the office and, before closing it, gave his friend one last look of resigned compassion.
Click.
The door slam was the sentence. Sirius was alone.
….
Wanda returned to her office a few minutes later, a slight annoyance lingering at the corner of her mouth.
At that very moment the boys burst in as if nothing had happened: laughter, quick steps, the brazenness of teenagers who think the world belongs to them. Seeing her in her red robe and the cold aura around her, they froze for an instant; even the air seemed to thicken. She turned her head slowly and looked at them, her eyes steady and calm.
She quickly saw Daphne shove Harry; the girl ran off with Draco and Hermione, leaving him planted in the middle of the room, trapped like a tossed toy.
Harry, like a cornered mouse, dashed for the door, but it was shut. He turned and found himself facing his mother.
Before he could say a word, a strange sensation came over him: his vision shifted, the contours of the world compressed, and his body seemed to shrink, as if something adjusted the perspective around him.
"My little one is still very young," Wanda said in a serene voice, without reproach. With a quick but tender gesture she lifted him and hugged him tightly.
Harry screamed inwardly that he would find whoever had annoyed his mother and avenge her in the most violent way possible.