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Spencer raised her wand high and shouted:
"Obliviate!"
But a powerful Patronus, shaped like a phoenix, soared between Arya and the spell. The curse struck the shimmering barrier and dissolved into nothing.
Spencer spun around sharply. From between the trees, the furious grey eyes of a man stared back at her.
He stepped forward calmly and said in a low voice:
"Well, Spencer. So you've come to the point of attacking my daughter now?"
She glared at him, her blue eyes wide with rage. "I knew you'd figure it out, Eliot—but I didn't expect you this soon."
"I had my suspicions," he replied. "But McGonagall was too keen on defending you. Then Michael asked me why you always wore gloves... I hadn't thought about it before. Who would've guessed that behind that pretty face was a trained criminal, Spencer. Or should I say—Miss Aldridge?"
Spencer stared at him coldly, almost as if she wanted to split his mind open with just her gaze. "So what are you going to do now? You're a magizoologist, not a duelist."
Eliot raised his wand steadily. "I picked up a few things during my years at MACUSA."
He aimed at her. A loud crack echoed through the clearing as spells erupted from every direction. Their wands clashed mid-air, sparks bursting between them.
"You remember what happened many years ago?" Eliot shouted. "A village in eastern England burned to the ground. Not a single survivor. They blamed a storm. But storms don't do that… do they?"
Spencer screamed, "A storm of revenge can. They murdered my family. They had to pay!"
Eliot sneered. "So you burned a village. Then you became a Ministry mercenary. Why? You know how they treat their hounds. They use them—and throw them away."
Spencer's hands trembled with energy. Her wand pulsed with power, feeding on the fury from her past. "You'll never understand my reasons. And if you think I'll explain them to you, you're a fool."
"You didn't even get what you wanted," Eliot said, his voice tightening. "You met that boy in some dingy pub—what was his name? Robert. He's not your type. Why him? Must've been loyal, huh?"
Spencer bellowed, pouring force into her wand. "So the Ministry taught you more than I thought. Even if you've figured all this out—you still can't stop me. You never could."
"Oh, I've wondered how you kept slipping away," Eliot replied. "You cleaned every trace—no sign at the Ministry, at the Shrieking Shack, at Hogshead. It's a shame, someone with your talent ending up like this…"
Spencer laughed bitterly. "Ending up where? Look at your Ministry. Look at the wizarding world. There's nothing left worth fighting for. But when I bring my father back—maybe things will change."
Eliot's grip tightened. The force of their spell connection nearly broke his wrist. He struggled to focus.
"You don't even know how to use that thing. You cast an ancient curse on them by mistake, and none of them could recover. The other one's still contaminated. Where did you even hide it? You could lose it during transport."
He was trying to bait her. She knew it. But she pushed harder, focusing her power into the duel. Sparks leapt from her wand toward Eliot, but they fizzled before hitting him. He was giving everything to block them, trying to distract her again.
"By the way," Eliot yelled, "you tortured two people because they wouldn't tell you where the creatures were. You cursed a Ministry employee so you'd get a nice Hogwarts referral. And not once—not once—did we find a trace of you behind. Congratulations, really."
Spencer smirked. "We mercenaries aren't like your kind. We live in the shadows. I've spent my whole life in them. I know what I'm doing."
She pushed again—but this time she was weaker. Eliot advanced. The pressure between their wands grew unbearable. Any second now, their wands might fly from their hands. They gritted their teeth, focusing harder.
From a distance, Arya and Albus watched. The tension in the air was unbearable. Arya could only hear fragments of their exchange. She and Albus struggled with the ropes around them—but it was useless.
Then, a whisper behind them: "Shh. Don't say anything. I'll get you out." Scorpius appeared, quickly untying them. Arya looked at him anxiously.
"What's going on?" he whispered.
Arya whispered back, "Scorp… please. Go find the professors. Bring them here. And give me your wand."
"But—"
"Just do it."
Scorpius handed over the wand and ran. The atmosphere was so tense even Albus stayed quiet. Arya turned to him.
"We have to grab the portkey. If my father loses… she'll escape."
She pointed to a large rock. Spencer hadn't noticed it yet. Arya aimed at it and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa." But nothing happened.
"Ugh, it won't work. Must be bonded to her. Now what?"
"I'll go," Albus said firmly.
"What? Are you crazy?"
"She won't see me."
He darted past her.
Arya watched as he approached the stone. But suddenly—Spencer turned. Like a snake spotting prey, she aimed her wand and shrieked:
"Sectumsempra!"
The curse struck Albus, and he crumpled. Blood gushed from his chest, flooding the forest floor.
"No—Albus!" Arya screamed.
"Run!" Eliot shouted. He held his injured arm, trying to reconnect the magical link. Spencer was faltering.
Arya, shaking, ducked behind a tree. She had to act—Albus would die from blood loss any second now. She remembered that Scorpius's wand responded to non-verbal spells. She clutched it tightly and whispered:
"Please work for me…"
Then she focused on the duel, raised the wand, and cried out in her mind:
"Expelliarmus!"
To her shock, the connection shattered. A burst of light exploded into the sky. Both Spencer and Eliot's wands flew from their hands—straight toward Arya. The light was blinding, but in the flash, Arya saw Spencer lunging for the portkey. She touched the stone—and vanished.
Arya raced to Albus. His face was pale, his lips drained of color. Eliot joined her.
"Hand me my wand, Arya."
She did, trembling. "Will he live?"
"I can't promise anything…"
Eliot cast unfamiliar spells. Then:
"This will slow the bleeding. Get him to the infirmary—now. One more thing, Arya…"
He looked into her eyes.
"Wait at the forest edge. A man named Michael Corner is coming. Show him the portkey. He'll know what to do."
Arya nodded faintly. Her eyes remained on Albus. Eliot conjured a stretcher, lifted Albus onto it, and Arya guided it toward the rock.
"Dad… be careful," she said softly.
Eliot gave a faint smile—and disappeared.
At the forest edge, Scorpius stood with Professors Salavar, Longbottom, and Flintwick. Scorpius gasped when he saw Albus. He rushed to the stretcher, eyes wide with horror.
The professors quickly carried Albus toward the infirmary. Scorpius followed.
Only Professor Salavar stayed behind. Arya shakily explained what had happened. She was still in shock. It all felt like a dream.
"Don't worry," Salavar said gently. "She won't have gotten far… You said she has no wand."
Arya said in despair, "She took mine. And Albus's too." She turned toward a tree.
A few minutes later, three people arrived, one of them Professor McGonagall. Arya stepped forward.
"Hello. Which one of you is Michael Corner?"
"That's me," said Michael Corner.
She led them into the forest. When they reached the portkey, she pointed to the stone. A pool of Albus's blood still stained the grass. Arya looked away, nauseated.
McGonagall asked, "Was anyone hurt?"
Arya nodded. "Albus Potter."
"Oh, Merlin…"
The men were already gone.
McGonagall glanced at Arya with concern.
"Don't worry, Miss Calderon. Your father can handle her."
Then, with surprising confidence, she added:
"He always does."
Arya blinked back tears, remembered Albus, and broke into a run toward the infirmary.