Himalayan Avalanche

"Woo—" The Snowman Chief, capable of spraying water, let out a mournful cry as the surviving snowmen limped toward their leader.

The Snowman Chief led the snowmen in kneeling before Moriarty, their eyes full of gratitude, making "gurgling" sounds while gesturing back and forth between Moriarty and the Snowman Baby.

Lockhart scratched his head: "Uh, I think the snowmen are thanking you for saving their child."

Moriarty glanced coldly for a moment, then looked away. If he hadn't taken the Ice Moon Necklace, he might have used these snowmen to practice the Killing Curse.

Of course, the Dark Wizard killing a large number of snowmen was also key—the Snowman Tribe had already paid a heavy price.

Moriarty only repaid grudges; he wasn't a murderous maniac.

The snowmen wanted to ask about the Ice Moon Necklace, but were scared off by the Serpent Tongue hissing from Moriarty's mouth.

The terror brought by the Twelve Ice Serpents was far more dreadful than death itself.

Lockhart wet his pants at the sound of the hissing. He collapsed to the ground, staring at Moriarty in disbelief.

"You—you never told me you were a Parseltongue!

And you killed three people! You're a Dark Wizard?

And those spells? Oh Merlin... who are you?!"

Lockhart let out a scream and fell flat on his back. His overactive imagination convinced him Moriarty would silence him.

Moriarty snorted and aimed his wand at Lockhart.

"Oh heavens! Please don't kill me—I won't breathe a word about today!" Lockhart knelt at Moriarty's feet, weeping bitterly: "I beg you, I'll tell you all my secrets, just don't kill me!"

"Your secrets?" Moriarty sneered mockingly: "You mean that you're actually a fraud, and all your books are plagiarized from others' adventures? Or that you don't know any advanced magic, and your best spell is just a Memory Charm?"

"How do you know everything?!"

Lockhart stared at Moriarty as if he were an alien, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"It's a gift, Mr. Lockhart!" Moriarty smiled cheerfully as he lowered his wand: "It's normal that you don't understand. But I'm curious—why didn't you use a Memory Charm on me while I was resting?"

"I was very weak at the time, and I might not have been able to resist your powerful Memory Charm." Moriarty analyzed for Lockhart: "Think about it, Mr. Lockhart—just wave your wand, and you'd have another incredible story!

Rescuing a Snowman Baby from an evil Dark Wizard, thus earning the friendship of the Snowman Tribe! I'm sure that book would sell like hotcakes!"

Moriarty stared down into Lockhart's vacant eyes: "So why didn't you do it?"

"I didn't dare," Lockhart said with a bitter, pathetic smile: "You're too powerful and too mysterious. I told you before—I was afraid you'd kill me."

"I see," Moriarty said with understanding, giving Lockhart a smile: "Years from now, you'll be incredibly grateful you didn't cast that spell on me today."

Lockhart sensed a glimmer of hope for survival, but he soon jumped in fright—Moriarty raised his wand again!

Lockhart closed his eyes...

"Scourgify."

"Huh?" Lockhart came to his senses and found no traces of battle on his clothes, and his pants were dry.

"Moriarty, why didn't you kill me?"

"What good would killing you do? To me, a living you is far more useful than a dead one."

Moriarty changed his tone, making himself sound less terrifying.

Lockhart nodded slowly: "What do you want me to do?"

"Do? It's not that simple!" Moriarty used his wand to lift Lockhart's chin: "I want you to submit to me, to pledge your loyalty to me!"

"You—you want to become the third Dark Lord?" Lockhart said timidly.

"Dark Lord?" Moriarty's laugh was full of disdain: "Don't let Grindelwald and Voldemort scare you senseless—they were unqualified wizards!"

Moriarty said seriously: "The sky of magic is vast and boundless. A qualified wizard must spend their entire life pursuing magic.

The European magical world produced two generations of Dark Lords. With their talent, they had a chance to aspire to the position of God of Magic. But what did they do?

One wanted to elevate the status of wizards, the other wanted to rule the magical world.

When they became entangled in worldly affairs, they were no longer pure wizards.

But I'm different. I can clearly see the sky of magic, and I want to soar freely within it.

Power, status, money, fame... these are just platforms to help me take off smoothly."

Moriarty grabbed Lockhart and looked him in the eyes: "Think about it, Lockhart—the one you're pledging loyalty to is the future God of Magic."

"I admit your words have drawn me in." Lockhart's blue eyes glistened with tears: "Following you, maybe I too can glimpse the sky of magic! Even just a glimpse."

Moriarty nodded in understanding. Lockhart had more than once shown envy of his terrifying talent.

This fraud, deep down, longed to grow stronger. Moriarty's appearance gave him hope.

"We can make an Unbreakable Vow," Lockhart knelt, extending his right hand, looking at Moriarty earnestly: "I swear I will be loyal to you!"

Thinking of the tediousness of the Fidelius Charm, Moriarty gently shook his head.

"I have a spell even more secure than the Unbreakable Vow. When the time comes, I'll have you prove your loyalty. I hope you won't back out."

Lockhart stood up without complaint and said matter-of-factly: "I will, Master. What do you need me to do next?"

"Don't call me Master. Call me Young Master!"

Moriarty suddenly smiled. "I remember I only told you my given name, and not my surname, didn't I?"

"Yes, young master," Lockhart said, eyes wide with excitement. "Young master speaks Parseltongue—you must be a descendant of Slytherin."

Moriarty gave a slight nod. "My surname is indeed Slytherin! The sole direct bloodline of Salazar Slytherin, one of the great Four Founders of Hogwarts. Next, I need to return to Britain and reclaim the castle old Salazar left behind."

Lockhart knelt a third time, knocking his head forcefully against the ground twelve times. He didn't know why twelve felt right—only that the number seemed to suit Moriarty.

But this display displeased Moriarty. He shook his head. "Oh, Lockhart, true loyalty is never about form. I'm no tyrant—you don't need to prove your devotion with gestures."

"You're too kind, young master," Lockhart insisted for once. "Since I've decided to serve you, I should be a proper servant. Once back in Britain, I'll accelerate my training in servitude."

"No, no, no," Moriarty waved a hand, speaking seriously. "When you return to Britain, you'll keep publishing books. I've already thought of a title for you: 'With Slytherin in East Tibet.'"

"You mean... you don't intend to expose me to the British wizarding world?" Lockhart was overjoyed—this meant he could still enjoy the attention and cheers of other wizards.

"Everything follows my plan, Lockhart."

Moriarty left the mystery hanging. He had chosen Lockhart as the one to draw eyes on the stage, and for that, he had long prepared a series of schemes.

BOOM!

A tremor shook the earth. Lockhart's cowardly nature hadn't changed—he was terrified. "Young master, is that an earthquake? Or a landslide somewhere?"

"I think someone is fighting."

Moriarty narrowed his eyes, sensing multiple surges of magical energy in the air. Following the traces, he locked his gaze onto a snowy mountain not far away.

A realization struck him. "Damn—there's a Snowman Tribe on that mountain too!"

As if to confirm his words, clusters of flames ignited on the mountain, stark against the night sky. A seven-meter-long fire raven cawed as it circled overhead, then a second, then a third!

Even Lockhart understood now. "It's the Dark Wizard's accomplices! Young master, can your magic circle still work?"

"More than that, I'm curious who the other side is fighting." A gleam flashed in Moriarty's eyes. An Ice Moon Necklace had actually drawn three factions of wizards into conflict—his curiosity about it grew stronger.

The battle on the mountain erupted quickly. Just as the Undead Fire Ravens tried to attack their enemy, a dragon's roar struck them down!

Moriarty heard it clearly. Now he had some idea who the third party was.

Chinese Wizards.

"Lockhart, what do you know about the Chinese wizarding world?"

Lockhart answered honestly. "Not much. Chinese Wizards rarely interact with foreign wizards. Wizards from Europe, America, and Africa aren't keen on coming to China either—I've heard it's because their magic gets weakened here. There's also a theory that—"

Lockhart's explanation cut off abruptly. He pointed at the sky. "Oh no! Young master, those fire ravens are coming for us!"

"They're coming for the Snowman Tribe! They want to wipe out the East Tibetan Yetis."

Moriarty looked behind him. The snowmen were panicking.

"Lockhart!" Moriarty said to him. "Go evacuate the snowmen and get them to safety. Then give me the Flying Broomstick!"

"What?"

"Idiot! Don't tell me you traveled without bringing a Flying Broomstick and Floo Powder! Think carefully—you must have packed them in your trunk, right?"

Moriarty kept his eyes fixed on the fire ravens descending from the sky. He couldn't let the snowmen be wiped out. As things stood, the Ice Moon Necklace hid a major secret. Before Moriarty could begin his investigation, he couldn't afford to let anyone connected to the necklace die!

Lockhart suddenly remembered his trunk had been knocked away by the dwarves. He quickly pulled out his wand. "Trunk, come to me!"

After rummaging a Flying Broomstick out of the trunk, Lockhart didn't hand it over immediately. "Young master, whatever you plan to do with this broomstick, I urge you to be careful—"

Moriarty didn't let him finish. He snatched the broomstick, gripped the handle with both hands, kicked off the ground, and soared into the air!

"Be careful, young master! You know China bans the use of Flying Broomsticks!" Lockhart's trailing words came from below.

"What kind of rule is that?!" Moriarty's body tilted, nearly falling off the broom, but he steadied himself and rose higher.

Setting up a magic circle would be too troublesome—and the Undead Fire Ravens wouldn't wait for him to finish. Moriarty had no long-range magic, so his only option was to close the distance on the broomstick.

His first takeoff went surprisingly smoothly. Moriarty maintained his balance, trying to use his magic to make the broom go faster.

The two fire ravens spotted him and, with unsettling intelligence, sped up.

Moriarty fired several Petrificus Totalus spells from the air, but hitting the ravens was difficult—they were too fast.

Gritting his teeth, Moriarty shouted down to the ground. "Lockhart! Forget evacuating the snowmen! Run! Get out of here!"

"What?" Lockhart sensed something wrong, covering his mouth. "Oh, young master, what are you going to do?"

Moriarty ignored him. Watching the fire ravens' flight path, he aimed his staff at a mountain peak above them!

Sectumsempra!

The surging magical power struck the mountaintop as an immense force.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

The snow on the entire peak cascaded down like ocean waves, the whole terrain collapsing under the avalanche. The two fire ravens were already buried beneath the ice and snow.

The Snowmen no longer had to worry about being burned alive, but they ran even faster. Moriarty's strike triggered a chain of avalanches, sending massive blocks of snow and ice tumbling down.

Still, the Snowmen's ancestors had lived here for thousands of years, and deep in their bloodline lay methods for dealing with avalanches.

At least, from the sounds of their cries, Moriarty could tell they weren't as miserable as when they were being hunted by dwarves.

That put Moriarty at ease. As long as one Snowman survived for him to question later, that was enough.

Moriarty turned the broomstick handle, steering the broom into a dive toward the ground. Lockhart was sprinting for his life, but it was clear he'd be swallowed by the snow behind him at any moment.

"Lockhart! Grab my hand... Good, I've got you!"

Moriarty pulled Lockhart onto the broom, and its speed noticeably slowed. As the snow was about to engulf them, Moriarty tried casting Windlike Flight on the broom—and to his surprise, it worked.

"Whoosh!"

The broom shot forward, slicing through the swirling snowflakes in the air and leaving the relentless avalanche behind.

Lockhart cheered as if he'd won a victory: "Haha, oh yeah! We won! We beat the avalanche!"

Moriarty, however, looked toward the mountain of another Snowman tribe, hoping the people there were safe.

"Thump, thump, thump..."

A series of avalanche roars echoed through the sky, even triggering an earthquake!

Countless snowy peaks collapsed in a thunderous cascade!

Moriarty noticed that this included the mountain of the other Snowman tribe.

Exploding snow and ice blocks blotted out even the night sky. The deafening roar made Lockhart realize this was no ordinary avalanche or earthquake.

He asked uneasily, "Young Master, did you just hit a mountain in the Himalayas?"

Moriarty didn't answer. He simply watched the sky-obscuring avalanche unfold.

After a long while, everything fell silent.

Moriarty sat on the broom with his arms crossed, glancing back at Lockhart. "See? Natural disasters show no mercy. If you hadn't seen it with your own eyes, would you believe that this world-shaking avalanche was triggered by a single Splitting Curse?"

Lockhart's eyes darted around a few times, thinking he'd grasped the hidden meaning in Moriarty's words.

"Ah, I understand, Young Master. You're saying that besides the two of us, no one saw you use the Splitting Curse on the mountain. So as long as we keep quiet, no one will know it was you!"

"That's not it, Lockhart," Moriarty said softly. "Why would I admit to something I didn't do? I saw it very clearly—one of the Undead Fire Ravens crashed into the mountain, trying to wipe out the Snowman tribe with a suicide attack!"

Lockhart froze for a moment, then caught on, clapping in agreement: "Right, that's exactly it! It was all the fault of those evil Dark Wizards!"

Moriarty didn't pursue the topic further—some things Lockhart just needed to know—and instead raised a single index finger and shook it.

"What I want you to understand is something else. Perhaps a disaster like this needs someone to trigger it, but give me room to grow, and before long, I'll be able to use even more terrifying disaster-level magic.

Then, I'll be the sole protagonist of that ice and snow dance!"

Moriarty never missed an opportunity to learn magic. As they flew, he projected his magical power into the air, meticulously sensing the ice and snow elements.

Unfortunately, he couldn't reclaim the magic, so he could only get close to nature through this crude method.

He didn't spare a single glance at the snowdrifts, even though one might have buried a Chinese Wizard who once fought Dark Wizards.

At the time, Moriarty had no other choice: he'd only been exposed to magic for less than 24 hours. He knew no powerful long-range offensive spells, nor could he fly.

Using the avalanche to stop the Undead Fire Ravens was the only way to protect the Snowmen.

It could only be said that geography was both an advantage and a disadvantage.

It helped Moriarty deal with the Dark Wizards, but it also caused a massive avalanche.

Lockhart was right—this was the Himalayas. Chain avalanches and earthquakes were perfectly normal. Moriarty had just been the one pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Compared to that unfortunate Chinese Wizard, Moriarty felt the Snowmen were more important.

The reason was simple: the Snowmen were still useful, while the Chinese Wizard was of no use to him.

Lockhart realized this. He stared at Moriarty's back in fear, his mind racing with ways to prove his own worth.

Suddenly, the Flying Broomstick beneath them let out a "creak, creak" sound. Lockhart shouted, "Bad news, Young Master! The broom's about to explode!"

Moriarty quickly steered the broom into a landing. Fortunately, the broom held out just long enough for them to touch the ground before it promptly exploded.

Moriarty raised his wand and buried the broom's broken parts. The poor broom had carried two people through an avalanche, so he added a small enchantment on top.

The Flying Broomstick was undoubtedly a hero among brooms!

But thinking about the speed-enhancing spell he'd cast on it, Moriarty realized he needed to learn Alchemy.

Lockhart watched silently from the side, utterly confused: the Young Master didn't sympathize with the buried people, but he felt sorry for a broken broom?

Luckily, after setting his goal, Moriarty found a path out of the snowy mountains and led Lockhart out. Otherwise, Lockhart might have considered learning the Animagus transformation.

Moriarty walked unhurriedly, and the system's voice echoed in his mind: "Detected host burying three Dark Wizards alive. Earned 2000 points."

He calculated his total points—2600—and planned to use them wisely.

By the time the two left the snowfield, the sky was already growing light. Lockhart was so exhausted he could barely move his legs, but Moriarty felt nothing out of the ordinary.

Along the way, Moriarty learned that Lockhart had made it to China thanks to a cruise ship called the Isabella, and to East Tibet thanks to a Chinese Wizard codenamed "Wild Dog."

"Lockhart, go find Wild Dog. We're going back to Britain!"

The small cabin had been destroyed by the avalanche, and the black box was already stored in Moriarty's System Space. There was nothing else for him to cling to.