One Link After Another

Creel turned his gaze to the black-robed wizard, who did not show any signs of wariness, which made him breathe a slight sigh of relief.

"Marshall, do you remember me?" After asking the question, Creel realized that he had subconsciously asked a stupid question.

However, Marshall simply looked at him and nodded. "Of course, Creel."

The black-robed wizard stood still, and only spoke slowly after the two had finished their conversation, "The Imperius Curse has been lifted... Marshall, now think back, did Grindelwald cast any other spells on you?"

Still bound by Magical Ropes, Marshall was pale. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment before panting and saying, "At least not in my memory, but I'm not sure. After all, he is Grindelwald. You can check me using your methods."

Upon hearing this, Creel gestured to his team members, who waved their wands and cast several spells that emitted white light, then nodded at him.

Only then was Creel truly relieved. He ordered his men to untie the ropes, and Marshall fell to the ground.

"Madam, welcome back—however, the welcoming ceremony may have to wait until later."

Marshall clutched her left leg, which was a bloody mess from Splinching, and shook her head. "Being able to come back alive is the greatest fortune."

Do you know what to do with the ring Onassis was wearing?

Marshall turned his head slightly and saw Onassis, who had completely lost consciousness. Onassis's eyes were wide open, and his face was still filled with confusion.

"Just use the alchemist's puppet to remove it. The corpse should decompose automatically, and the puppet will bear the trap spell on the ring..."

"..." She unconsciously clenched her fists, and after a while, she continued, "Apart from the Thief's Downfall, everything you did was exactly what Grindelwald expected..."

Creel's chest heaved twice.

Marshall continued, "During the time Onassis and I were possessed, Grindelwald didn't hide anything from us. I still remember it to this day... He stood in front of me, smiling, and put the rings on both of our fingers..."

"He said: 'Sooner or later, you two 'traitors' will be found. When that happens, whoever's Imperius Curse is broken first, the other can send them on their way. Then, your terrified companions will take off your rings, and tsk, the two of you turning to dust together will be quite interesting...'"

The more Marshall spoke, the paler she became. She was no longer trembling from pain, but from the fear she was experiencing.

"His methods, his thoughts, his ruthlessness were laid bare before me..." Marshall gave a bitter smile.

"Calm down!" Creel shouted.

However, after regaining his composure, Marshall was completely overwhelmed by belated fear.

Her pupils, her hair, her entire body were trembling uncontrollably.

"Use the Draught of Living Death to calm her down first," Creel quickly ordered.

When the extremely potent Sleeping Potion, the Draught of Living Death, was poured down Marshall's throat, she finally calmed down completely and fell into a deep sleep.

The black-robed wizard watched all this quietly until Marshall fell into a deep sleep, at which point he spoke slowly.

"Take her back first, have someone prepare Mind Purifier and Invigoration Draught, and have a healer on standby. Grindelwald is terrifying enough, and she killed her own companion with her own hands. Add to that the aftereffects of the Imperius Curse, Marshall is likely trapped in a nightmare."

He looked up at Creel, whose face was still obscured by his hood.

"But we need the information she brings back now, so we must heal her by all means."

Creel nodded. "Ms. Marshall is determined, and I believe she can recover quickly."

"You take your men and leave. I'll stay. I've already sent a message that the puppet will be brought here soon to deal with the ring on Onassis's body," the black-robed wizard said.

Creel glanced at him, nodded finally, and then had someone take Marshall away via Apparition.

The devastated forest was once again empty, with only the black-robed wizard standing quietly there.

He stood quietly for a while, then slowly walked to Onassis's side.

The black-robed wizard pulled out a gold-red plaque from his robes and stroked it.

The name of Rosha Onassis is engraved above the plaque.

The hand that touched the nameplate was a translucent pearl white color.

As the touch continued, the words Onassis gradually blurred, twisting and turning until they finally became Mopsus.

"My great-grandson, Rosha Mopsus, descendant of the great Seer Mopsus— " he murmured, "you gave your precious life for our great cause, and you will be remembered forever—"

Then, he slowly extended his pearly white, translucent right hand.

He touched the ring on Onassis's corpse, and the moment the ring was removed, Onassis's corpse began to rapidly turn black, just as Marshall had experienced before.

Soon, Onassis's body turned to dust, and the withered black fluff drifted away in the wind, swirling and settling everywhere.

The black-robed wizard simply shook his robe, scattering the last remnant of his great-grandson's existence into the mountains and forests.

"What exquisite magic..." He examined the ring, his tone even tinged with fascination. "Grindelwald, how did you do that? This amazing magical creation, how could you store such a powerful spell..."

He chanted a few obscure and incomprehensible incantations in a low voice, and then the terrifying ring slowly sank into his translucent palm.

Then, without a sound, he vanished from the spot.

"Hey buddy! Give me that document!"

"Hundred Year Era Interview... I can't imagine what kind of interest readers would have with this title and this content! I need a new title for this column!"

"How many times have I told you! No Organizing Spell allowed in the office! This stupid spell, where did my interview draft go?!"

"We need to dig deep! What? Not allowed?! Give me the list, I'll sneak into Paris myself tomorrow to interview people!"

The office, which wasn't very big, was crammed with a dozen or so wizards. Heavy folders were piled up in every corner of the desks, and the wall facing the door was covered with various movable black and white photos.

Every now and then, paper airplanes would fly in from outside and land on a desk. The desk's owner would then hastily untie the paper airplane and glance at it after finishing arguing with his colleagues.

Since that report was published, the Merlin's Weekly Prophet's offices have been bustling with activity.

"Editor-in-chief, the Guard Corps..." someone called out.

The middle-aged man, wearing a short vest and smoking a pipe, looked up impatiently.

"I've said it countless times: unless the Guard Corps agree to an exclusive interview and guarantee the truthfulness of their statements, we will not accept any contact with Guard Corps —want to shut me up? You'll have to cast ten Imperius Curse on me!"

"No, Editor-in-Chief!" The staff member who came to report was excited. "It's that anonymous person again! Photos of the Guard Corps!"

"What? Give it to me!" The editor-in-chief didn't even notice when his pipe fell to the ground, and snatched the brown paper envelope.

There is only one photo.

A man bound in mid-air stared wide-eyed as he was struck by an off-screen spell, then quickly lost his composure.

The editor-in-chief, who had dealt with Auror, Hit Wizard, and even Azkaban prisoners, recognized it at a glance: it was the Killing Curse!

But none of that matters. The key is that man!

Although he had shaved off his long beard, his face was still clearly visible. He was none other than Rosha Onassis, a key figure in the sensational Wizarding World report from the previous issue!

A colleague also came over to look at the photo, and he exclaimed, pointing to one side of the photo. "That's the uniform of the Guard Corps!"

"Murder to silence them..." the editor-in-chief murmured.

For the first time, the noisy newspaper office fell silent.

Then, a cacophony of excited discussion burst forth, seemingly bursting through the ceiling.

"Breaking news! Breaking news!"

"This is enough to prove that the Guard Corps have something to hide; they wanted to silence the person involved—no, they already have!"

"That's ruthless. They must all be on our side."

The editor-in-chief waved his hand to stop the others from discussing. He picked up his pipe and took a deep drag, his cheeks sinking in.

He coughed and exhaled a large cloud of smoke, then slammed his hand heavily on the table.

"We're working overtime to meet the deadline! We're not a weekly anymore, we're a daily! Tomorrow morning—no, it's not even dark yet, tonight—I want the entire Wizarding World to know this news!"

At this moment, a more thoughtful subordinate worriedly asked, "Then, does that mean we're completely on the opposite side of the Guard Corps?"

The editor-in-chief sneered, "Naive. After that last report, we've already become enemies with the Guard Corps! Besides, what's most important to us journalists? Reporting the truth! Ladies and gentlemen, that's the original intention behind the founding of Merlin's Weekly Prophet!"

Then, he stroked his stubble-covered chin, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Besides, this is clearly a photo from a chase scene. Who could have taken this? Could it be Grindelwald? Ha—the internal conflicts within the Guard Corps are bigger than I expected. A mole has infiltrated this kind of team..."

Having said that, he waved his hand dismissively. "Write it! The title will be—"

Murder to cover it up, turning against each other? Why did the Guard Corps raise their wands against their colleagues?!

Inside the Hogwarts Great Hall, the students gathered in several groups as dinner began, spreading out the urgent Merlin's Weekly Prophet on the long table, afraid of missing a single word.

"My God, it really is the Killing Curse..." Daisy, with her head resting on Sean's shoulder, covered her mouth in surprise.

"The Guard Corps are really ruthless. It was their idea to fake someone's death, and now that it's been exposed, they're even trying to kill their own comrades to cover it up," Harry exclaimed.

"... The premeditated murder is a fact, and we would like to ask the Guard Corps on behalf of all the wizards."

"To cover up the truth, they resorted to such terrible methods. Is this the kind of behavior an official institution 'dedicated to protecting the rights of wizards' should be doing?"

"And the Gellert Grindelwald incident—was it the Dark Lord's true face being revealed? Forgive my bluntness, but we didn't see any of Grindelwald's horrific acts; instead, we saw the Unforgivable Curse in the hands of the Guard Corps. Revelation? I think the word 'persecution' might be the more accurate description."

"This report is brought to you by the entire team at Merlin's Weekly Prophet."

Sean read the last line of the report in a low voice.

"The situation has reversed..." he murmured.

Beside her, the curious Daisy glanced again at the photo of the dead Onassis, then quickly looked away. She said, "How scary... But could this prove that the whole thing was actually a conspiracy by the Guard Corps against Mr. Grindelwald?"

Fred quickly replied, "A conspiracy is inevitable, but we don't know what the Guard Corps's true purpose is."

"World domination?" George shrugged, noticing everyone looking at him. "It can't be that you're trying to monopolize Butterbeer, can it?"

Hermione frowned and examined the newspaper, which was clearly hastily printed, again. She said in a low voice, "The origin of this photo is a bit strange. It's obviously a photo taken at the scene, and whoever could secretly take the photo must have been there too—didn't the Guard Corps notice?"

Sean nodded. "Besides, as far as I know, cameras that can take photos of events are very noisy, and flash and smoke are almost unavoidable. How could they possibly take pictures on-site..."

"How could it be possible to take pictures on the spot?! Huh? Huh! Tell me! How did this come about?!" At the headquarters of the Wizarding United Guard, a newspaper was thrown hard at Creel's face.

Looking at his Wrath boss, Creel gritted his teeth, the newspaper slipping off his face, and he saw the photo on the cover.

That was indeed the scene of Onassis being struck by the Killing Curse.

But he was completely baffled. He was there, and that's how it happened, but where did the photos come from?

There were people on guard all around, and everyone present was his trusted confidant. Marshall, the only one who could cause trouble, was under his watchful eye the whole time.

With such a large camera, and with such exaggerated smoke and flash, he simply couldn't understand how this photo was taken.

"I'm asking you a question!" the boss shouted sternly.

Creel quickly bowed his head. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know either..."

The man pacing back and forth behind his desk suddenly took a deep breath and then slammed something on the desk onto Creel's forehead.

"Everyone who left the team, go to the Detention Room. I'm going to question them one by one!"

"Yes," Creel replied hastily, blood streaming down his forehead.

Once Creel left the office, the previously Wrath middle-aged man immediately calmed down.

Behind him, a black-robed wizard emerged from the shadows.

"This is troublesome," said the black-robed wizard.

The middle-aged man glanced at him. "Grindelwald has never been an easy person to deal with. Has Marshall recovered?"

"It's back to normal."

"Okay—" The man narrowed his eyes. "Keep her in a regular ward. Also, return the wand to her. Don't leave any guards, just the therapists and nurses."

The black-robed wizard floated up. "I will personally monitor her."

"Very good."