The figure before him bore no trace of facial disguise. His mental state was steady and natural, and the fracture within his soul was nearly impossible to replicate. Without question, he was the genuine article—the very Benjamin Baker Avada knew.
"Wait!"
Avada decisively dismissed the offensive spell he had prepared and instead conjured a thick Shield Charm. In the same instant, he pushed the mental power sustaining this body to its absolute limit. Then he chose a spot a fair distance away from Baker and leapt out of the spatial interstice, shouting the moment he made contact with open air—
"I know you—you're Benjamin Baker, a council member of the International Anti-Dark Arts Alliance, aren't you?"
"You know me?"
At the sudden voice behind him, Baker instinctively dodged before turning around. A solid shield had already formed before him at some point. He frowned at Nathan Clarke's face.
"I've heard of you. You're the kind who specializes in hunting Dark wizards, full of righteous zeal, right? Then I think there may be some misunderstanding between us—you wouldn't happen to be collaborating with werewolves and keeping watch over that child, would you?"
"You know?"
"I just found out."
Avada deliberately relaxed his posture, lowering his wand and even shrugging. "I've done some research on werewolves. Identifying them isn't difficult for me. Now it's my turn to ask—why are you here, Mr. Baker?"
Baker's expression remained grave, his shield unwavering as though he would launch a full assault at the slightest hint of danger. "Since you've discovered it too, there's no point in hiding it. I stayed here to stake the place out, hoping to draw out that wolf—"
BOOM!!!
The ground beneath Avada exploded violently. A mass of scorching flames burst upward from the shattered earth, mercilessly hurling him into the air. In the next instant, the fire twisted together, forming a long blazing rope that shot toward him midair and bound him tightly.
Thud.
With a dull impact, the object wrapped in the crimson rope fell back onto the ruined ground—
It was a rock.
The next moment, the Baker who had stood behind his shield with a smug smile dissolved into shimmering particles of light—it had been an illusion.
From beginning to end, the attack intent within Baker's mental state had never dissipated. He had always intended to subdue the stranger first and interrogate later. The lifelike illusion had naturally failed to deceive Avada's magical senses, allowing him to counter with ease…
The flaming rope binding the stone seemed to lose its sustaining force. It flared briefly before vanishing. Then the surrounding ground began to tremble slightly, as though a fierce battle raged beneath the surface. Moments later, the earth collapsed into a small lake, and two figures burst through the water simultaneously—
In an instant, streams of light crisscrossed the space within dozens of meters. Dense magical brilliance overlapped and collided. Natural phenomena that could never ordinarily coexist gathered together in a chaotic spectacle—dark storm clouds condensed overhead, releasing blue-glowing rain before being shredded by blade-laced gales; the lake water froze solid, only to fracture as molten lava or resilient vines erupted from beneath; countless transparent blades drifted through the air, poised to reap the life of either combatant at any moment…
'How marvelous!'
Even as he desperately defended against Baker's relentless assault, Avada spared roughly twenty percent of his mental strength to marvel inwardly. Four years ago, he had needed strategy guides, pre-arranged traps, and the assistance of Baron and the Room of Requirement just to barely bring down a weakened imitation of Professor Baker.
And now?
In just four years, he could endure the real Baker's full-force attacks for a considerable time!
Granted, his endurance was largely passive—mostly dodging and dissolving Baker's assaults rather than counterattacking effectively. He also relied on numerous advantages: magical sensory prediction, a body capable of tanking certain spells, prior familiarity with Baker's combat style, and more. Still—he was holding on!
This was a Head-of-House-level wizard fighting at full strength. Rounded up generously, that meant he and a Head were practically evenly matched!
"There's no need to keep fighting, Mr. Baker!"
He had intended to use his signature mental link to transmit information and possibly create a small opening, but Baker's mind was sealed tight with Occlumency. Left with no alternative, he resorted to shouting.
Under his spell, the family inside the cabin slept soundly. Their battlefield was far enough away that noise would not easily reach them.
"I know about you—I know Shafiq!"
"Hm?!"
The effect was immediate. The riot of magic in heaven and earth diminished by more than half, allowing Avada to finally see the astonishment on Baker's face.
"When you taught at Hogwarts, you created a Horcrux—a black crystal orb, right? He didn't tell me directly, but I figured it out. When I learned that orb could withstand Fiendfyre, I suspected it. And in the end, it sealed Voldemort's soul!"
Seizing Baker's momentary distraction, Avada spoke in rapid succession. "And I know that creating a Horcrux doesn't necessarily require malicious murder. Someone taught me the relevant knowledge! So I know you're not a Dark wizard…"
"You… are you one of Mr. Shafiq's people?"
Baker interrupted him, stunned. "Were you sent by him? Then why didn't I receive any notice? And we've already investigated this matter thoroughly—there's no need for additional personnel here!"
"You're disrupting the original plan—does the Headmaster know about this?"
"…"
"???"
The sheer volume of information caused Avada's mind to stall for a moment.
What the hell???
Baron had maintained contact with Professor Baker all along? And Baker even addressed him as 'Mr.'? They were both part of that mysterious "school" organization and were investigating the recent werewolf incidents as well?
The final boss was right beside me?!
"Forgive my rudeness, Mr. Baker… The 'Mr. Shafiq' you mentioned—what is his full name?"
After recovering from his mental crash, Avada cautiously asked.
"Johnson Shafiq. Is it really necessary to verify it in such a crude way—"
He broke off mid-sentence. His gaze suddenly turned strange.
"The Shafik you're referring to is…?"
"Baron Shafiq. I suppose you could say I'm his distant uncle."
"…"
(End of Chapter)