Not to Be Underestimated

Amosta had cleared his desk spotless. To avoid damage, even the candlesticks and the photograph of himself with Grandma Felena had been moved elsewhere.

Before beginning, he glanced at the surveillance wall opposite him. Hogwarts was peaceful, with nothing unusual happening.

After a sigh, Amosta returned to the bedside and fetched his travel trunk. After searching through it, he took out a strangely shaped candlestick.

The lower half of the candlestick was a voodoo doll with eyes as large as a baby's fists and bared teeth split all the way to below its earlobes. Its head was roughly half the size of its body, pitch-black all over, with a chilling smile hanging on its swollen face.

Amosta had no desire to look too closely into what the doll was made of.

He had bought this alchemical item from a black-market trading ground. The wizard who sold it had come from Wagadu.

Among all the lands where magical civilization flourished, Wagadu was perhaps the most chaotic region. The reason was likely the impact of its complicated Muggle social order.

Even now, many people there still lived in tribes, and the leaders of those tribes were generally witch priests with ancient lineages.

Tribal witch priests still retained many spells passed down from ancient times, spells that were exceptionally cruel and bloody. Curses and sacrifices were their specialties. To be honest, even a wizard as powerful as Amosta did not wish to provoke those lunatics lightly.

Atop the voodoo doll's head, the upper half of the candlestick was a transparent tube for holding candle wax. Since the doll had never been used, the tube was spotless, without the slightest trace of grime.

Next came the making of the candle wax.

Amosta reached into the trunk again. Before long, he drew out a bottle of crimson dragon blood.

This dragon blood came from the Norwegian Red Scale Dragon Amosta had killed. He had collected a great deal of it at the time, and fearing that selling too much at once would draw the Ministry of Magic's attention, he had a plentiful supply of dragon blood on hand.

As everyone knew, nearly every part of a dragon was valuable. Its blood and nerves in particular contained abundant magical power, making them excellent ingredients for potions and spellcasting.

He poured the dragon blood into the transparent tube atop the voodoo doll's head. Studying the crystalline red mist curling over the gently rippling surface, Amosta nodded in satisfaction. Next, it was time to pay a small price.

Amosta shook his sleeve down and bared his arm. A dark silver flash cut through the dim air, and the gushing blood gathered under the force of magic into a winding stream, precisely merging with the dragon blood in the tube.

The ominous magic dispersing through the office seemed to swallow the light. The steadily glowing candlesticks on the bookshelf grew dimmer and dimmer, as though coated in dust.

Amosta's expression was solemn. Two vortices seemed to turn slowly within his pale violet eyes. He continuously flicked his wand, and black, tadpole-like runes emerged one after another from its grey-glowing tip. These tadpole runes seemed alive, swimming through the air before Amosta and leaving pale ink-like traces in space.

"Go—"

At Amosta's slightly commanding order, hundreds of tadpole runes immediately rushed toward the dragon blood mixed with his own blood like weary birds returning to the forest.

A strange breeze suddenly stirred through the silent room. The tadpole runes drove the blood into rotation, and fine scarlet sparks occasionally burst from the sunken surface, a horrifying sight.

The magic Amosta continuously poured into it flowed like grey currents. Catalyzed by his own power, the magic contained in the tadpole runes gradually fused with the magic within the blood. The dragon blood slowly changed from a fluid liquid into a thick substance. Before it completely solidified, Amosta plucked a lock of hair from his head and tossed it in. At last, a bright red candle with a wick was complete.

In the darkness, Amosta wiped nonexistent sweat from his forehead. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his expression did not.

"Bang!"

The lit candle gave off a nearly three-foot-high flame, golden in color yet ringed with a dull grey halo. From afar, it looked as though a vigorously burning torch had been driven into the voodoo doll's head.

Ordinarily, a candle burning at such a terrifying rate would last only a few minutes at most before going out. Yet the thick body of this strange candle showed no sign of shrinking, as though what was being consumed was not candle wax and wick at all.

"It's up to you now."

Amosta's eyelashes trembled slightly as he murmured softly. Then he stood straight before the voodoo doll, raised his wand toward the sky, and wore an expression of utmost solemnity. His low voice sounded more like a grave oath.

"I—Amosta Breen—willingly accept the invitation of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to serve as Assistant Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts!"

Buzz!

The instant his oath was complete, the air in the office suddenly shuddered violently. An incomparably powerful and evil force of curse, forced into manifestation, crossed the barriers of time and space and descended upon Amosta. In a daze, he seemed to hear countless shrill wails from those who had suffered torment and been brutally murdered before their deaths!

At that very moment, Albus Dumbledore, seated behind his long-legged desk in the circular office on the eighth floor, suddenly startled awake from his thoughts. He sharply turned toward Amosta's office, his solemn, piercing blue gaze seeming to penetrate layer upon layer of walls as he watched what Amosta was doing as though he were there in person.

The instant the curse cast by Voldemort settled upon him, it was diverted by the substitute Amosta had prepared. However, after rushing into the voodoo doll, the manifested curse immediately and shrewdly realized it had been deceived.

An enraged roar rang out from the void. The curse power, brimming with magic that made one tremble, instantly formed a tangible dark bubble that rapidly expanded. After enveloping the voodoo doll, it swiftly pressed toward Amosta!

Though the curse-substitution magic was about to fail, Amosta did not panic. His eyelids flickered, and the slight furrow between his brows lent extra authority to his indifferent expression. Just as the dark bubble broke through to within two feet of him, Amosta suddenly drew back his raised right hand and firmly pressed his wand tip against the solidified curse!

Whoosh!

The ceaseless gale created by the clash between the expanding curse and the powerful magic pouring from Amosta's wand tip swept through the entire office. Every inch of space was filled with fleeting flashes of grey lightning.

Even the images on the surveillance wall began flickering continuously under the violent magical field that engulfed the whole floor.

The mysterious vortices in Amosta's eyes began spinning again. His entire body was bathed in a thin, barely perceptible glow, while the magic surging from his wand tip was like ocean waves beneath a raging typhoon, each surge stronger than the last!

As time passed, the bubble formed by the curse power gradually began to lose ground. It slowly shrank, inch by inch forced back into the voodoo doll's body.

And at the instant it vanished completely, a fine crack suddenly appeared on the flared nostrils of the voodoo doll's grinning face. The magical flame that had burned so fiercely also seemed to have suffered a heavy blow, its height instantly dropping to only a third of what it had been.

In the circular office, a wry smile appeared at the corner of Headmaster Dumbledore's mouth. He unconsciously rose to his feet, then slowly sat back down, his hand already resting on Fawkes's claw.

Meanwhile, Professor Lockhart, whose office was also on the third floor, had been yawning and rubbing his eyes as he prepared to head to the Staff Dormitory for sleep. For some reason, he suddenly froze. His weary, impatient body seemed to inexplicably regain its energy, as though he had drunk a whole bottle of vitality tonic!

"Oh, lucky little Nika!"

Lockhart beamed and returned to his desk. After pulling that ornate peacock-feather quill from his pen holder, he began writing furiously.

"Congratulations on receiving my reply a day early!"

"It really wasn't easy to deal with..."

In the disordered room, Amosta gazed at the voodoo doll's wrinkled face and finally revealed a relaxed smile...

P.S. Sorry, everyone. I have a bid to submit on Tuesday, so I need to stay up tonight working on the proposal. There will only be one update on Monday. I'll make it up when I have time.