For a moment, only the roaring echo of water remained above Hogwarts.
The Black Lake, raised into the air, was still trembling slightly. Silvery sunlight pierced through the water, casting a flowing blue-green light and shadow on the stone walls of the entire south wing of the castle.
The fish darted frantically through the water, while the giant squid waved its tentacles, seemingly using all its strength to express its helplessness.
Allen hovered below the waterline, his eyes behind the mask fixed on the depths of the lake.
He could sense the black-robed man's magical energy fluctuations right in the center of that body of water, like a rat cornered and desperately trying to burrow to the bottom.
But by now, the entire lake had been lifted into the air, leaving the bottom nothing more than a bed of silt exposed to the sun.
"Still trying to hide?" Allen muttered to himself.
He raised his wand, his fingertips twirling slightly, and the shockwaves that had been exploding in the water gathered together again, like countless invisible fists simultaneously slamming towards the center of the lake.
Boom--Boom--Boom--
A series of muffled, almost chest-tightening explosions emanated from the depths of the water, followed by a dense string of pops, like someone stuffing a whole bunch of firecrackers into an iron bucket.
Water splashed everywhere, and a dark shadow was suddenly blasted out of the water, like a stone launched by a slingshot, tracing a crooked arc before crashing heavily onto the grass in the castle's front yard.
"Puff--"
The leader, dressed in black, rolled twice on the ground, splashing grass and mud, before finally lying on his back, covered in blood.
His wide robe was torn in several places, and his left arm was twisted at an odd angle, clearly dislocated.
He was gasping for breath, blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, but he was still awake, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the black figure in the air.
Allen floated in the air, his body surging with fiery blue magic, his purple-striped fox mask gleaming darkly in the sunlight, and the hem of his trench coat swaying gently.
The man in black struggled to prop himself up, but his dislocated left arm and several possibly broken ribs caused him to fall heavily back down after only a slight movement.
He tilted his head back and, through the cracked bottom of the mask, could barely make out the delicate outline of the person opposite him.
It's obvious that the other person is a young man.
"... Who... who exactly are you?" The man in black robes asked in a hoarse voice, filled with intense resentment and anger.
"Why are you meddling in this mess at Hogwarts? What business is it of yours?"
Allen looked down at him and remained silent for a moment.
To be honest, he felt he was almost immune to the system's tendency to assign tasks on short notice.
Having been in this world for so long, he has gradually become accustomed to being inexplicably dragged into all sorts of trouble.
He tilted his head slightly, and said calmly with a hint of helplessness:
"You can call me... a justice-seeking individual driven by interest."
The black-robed man's pupils contracted sharply.
He stared at the purple-striped fox mask for several seconds, as if trying to read a trace of a lie from the expressionless mask, but he couldn't read anything.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only let out a low, hoarse laugh, tinged with self-mockery and disbelief.
"... Just out of interest?" He repeated the phrase, his tone bitter.
"I... I planned for so many days... chose the best time... brought so many people... and it all failed because of your 'interest'?"
He no longer had the strength to laugh. His head fell back onto the grass, his gaze passing through the mask to the fading Dark Mark atop the Hogwarts Tower, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips.
"Just because... you had a sudden whim... my whole plan is ruined..."
Allen didn't reply; the wind blew across the lake, making the hem of his trench coat flutter.
He glanced down at the black-robed man on the ground, confirming that he had completely lost his ability to move, before finally letting out a slight sigh of relief.
Outside the light screen, the Ministry Atrium was completely silent.
Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the water curtain suspended in the air, the thrilling battle scene still replaying in their minds.
From the moment the entire Black Lake was lifted into the air, to the dense explosions in the water, to the black-robed figure being blasted out, and finally lying on the ground asking, "Who are you?"...
Every scene seemed to be etched into their minds.
"... What did he just say?" Finally, someone broke the silence. "A... justice seeker, driven by mere interest?"
"Isn't this outrageous? One person shot down more than a dozen Death Eaters, lifted the entire Black Lake, and even cast Composite Spell... and then he says he did all this just because 'it's a hobby'?"
"What kind of interest is that? Interest in taking on a dozen Death Eaters single-handedly?"
"Whose side is he on? He's neither a Hogwarts professor nor Auror from the Ministry of Magic... Could he be a secret member of the Order of the Phoenix?"
" The Order of the Phoenix? That was over ten years ago, it disbanded long ago!"
The discussions grew louder and louder, like a pot of water boiling.
The reporters buried themselves in their work, Quick-Quotes Quill, which practically sparked.
However, a completely different and more complex aura permeated the air among the high-ranking figures in the front row of the guest area.
Fudge looked incredulous, then turned his head and exchanged a very subtle glance with Amelia Borns beside him.
The tall male wizard from the International Confederation of Wizards stood next to another member of the International Confederation of Wizards, speaking in a very low voice that could only be heard by a few people nearby.
"That guy with the fox mask... he wasn't just at Hogwarts today," he said. "He's been to Kent before too."
The man suddenly turned his head to look at him, his expression as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.
" Kent?" His voice was so low it was almost a whisper. "You mean... the one in St Margaret's Bay?"
The tall wizard nodded, saying nothing more. But his look said it all.
They all remembered the top-secret internal report from the Ministry of Magic —about the one-sided battle on St Margaret's Bay beach, about the mysterious powerful figure who defeated Quirrell, who was possessed by You-Know-Who.
This also includes Scrimgeour's shattered Time-Turner and the vertical pupil that cannot be recorded in memory.
All the clues point to the same person—the man in front of us, wearing a fox mask and a black trench coat.
Fudge immediately realized the seriousness of the matter. He turned his head slightly and whispered to Amelia, "This matter... should not be spread for now."
Amelia nodded imperceptibly.
She knew that there were many people in the main hall, with hundreds of ears listening intently, and any careless word could be spread throughout the entire Wizarding World.
But she knew in her heart that this tacit understanding among these top figures wouldn't last long.
Just then, Allen was floating in mid-air, suddenly felt an unusual fluctuation coming from inside his body.
The amplification of the wisdom and magic left behind by Rowena Ravenclaw that surged from the pure white space was rapidly dissipating like a receding tide.
Immediately afterwards, the last bit of effect of the Limited Character Card) also disappeared completely at the same moment.
The clear understanding of the incantations in my mind is fading away piece by piece, like watermarks left on the beach after the tide has receded.
The magical energy reserves in my body felt completely drained, as if a large part of me had been hollowed out, making even breathing difficult.
"Damn... so fast..." he muttered helplessly.
He turned his head and looked; the outline of Hogwarts ' towers was exceptionally clear in the sunlight.
Without making a sound, he tightened his grip on his wand, slightly turned his body, and flew towards the highest spire of Hogwarts Castle.
The hem of his trench coat spread out behind him in a smooth arc, casting a dark silhouette in the afternoon sunlight.
Soon, he stood atop the tower.
The hem of the trench coat fluttered wildly in the wind above, and the patterns on the purple-striped fox mask shimmered in the sunlight.