Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Upon hearing Dumbledore speak, Wentworth froze momentarily before lapsing into silence.

It was supposed to be a proper Halloween—enjoying the feast and singing songs at Hogwarts. Yet here he was, suddenly whisked to this desolate wilderness, with a group of Dark wizards waiting for him. Wentworth couldn't help but wonder who was so eager to spend the holiday with him in such a peculiar way.

Both of them instinctively looked up. Suspended in mid-air, the fingerless wizard hunter still dangled there.

"Liberacorpus!"

Wentworth lowered the wizard hunter to the ground, discovering that he was still conscious, albeit pale-faced. His hair, singed by Dumbledore's blazing fire, now sported a bald patch in the middle, resembling a receding hairline.

"Alright, speak up. Who are you? Why did you bring me here?"

Crouching down, Wentworth asked curiously.

The wizard hunter leaned weakly against a large tree, sitting on the ground with an expression of utter defeat. Hearing Wentworth's question, he glanced at him despondently before turning his head away, clearly unwilling to talk.

Seeing this, Wentworth turned to Dumbledore and said:

"Headmaster, this guy isn't saying anything. I bet he doesn't know much. How about we just get rid of him?"

At these words, Dumbledore replied with a kind smile:

"Wentworth, perhaps you could try a different approach? Don't forget, you're a wizard now. Let's use a wizard's methods, shall we?"

Hearing Dumbledore's suggestion, Wentworth appeared to realize something. He drew his wand and pointed it at the wizard hunter lying on the ground.

"Cruci—"

Before Wentworth could finish the incantation, the wizard hunter screamed in terror:

"Stop! Stop it! Damn it, are you really a Hogwarts student? That's an Unforgivable Curse! In Britain, using that will land you straight in Azkaban!"

Hearing this, Wentworth's eyes lit up with understanding.

"So, you're not British, are you? Interesting. Yes, using an Unforgivable Curse would indeed send me to Azkaban—but who's going to know? After all, Obliviate isn't exactly a difficult spell. And out here, in the middle of nowhere, disposing of a body is rather convenient, don't you think?"

The wizard hunter looked at Wentworth in disbelief, as though unable to comprehend how such chilling words could come from an eleven-year-old.

"You… you're going to kill me? You dare to kill someone?"

Wentworth sneered coldly.

"What a ridiculous question. If the Headmaster hadn't come along and I were here alone, I doubt you'd have spared me."

"But I'm willing to make a deal. Tell me everything—why I'm here, who's behind this—and I'll let you live. How about it?"

The wizard hunter cast a nervous glance at Dumbledore before stammering:

"I don't believe it. The greatest white wizard in history, Albus Dumbledore, would never let you do such a thing!"

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed as he spoke slowly:

"You're right. I would never simply stand by and let my student do something like this."

The wizard hunter exhaled in relief, but his breath caught again as Dumbledore turned his back, no longer looking in their direction.

Wentworth grinned wickedly and raised his wand once more toward the wizard hunter.

"I'll talk! I'll talk! Ask whatever you want—just keep that blasted wand away from me!"

Wentworth's smile vanished, replaced by a neutral expression.

"Who wants me dead?"

"No one wants to kill you—at least, we weren't planning to. We're wizard hunters. Whoever pays the most, we do the job. It's as simple as that."

"This time, it was some cloaked figure who gathered us. He said he'd taken on a commission to deliver a student to a specific location for the client."

"We were curious, too. It seemed like an easy task—just escorting a child—yet the reward was absurdly high. After we all agreed, he told us the student in question went to Hogwarts."

At this, the wizard hunter cast another fearful glance at Dumbledore, swallowing hard before continuing:

"I swear it's true! That's why the cloaked man chose us. Most of us are from America—Canada, Mexico, Brazil. He didn't dare use local British hunters, likely fearing they'd double-cross him afterward."

As the wizard hunter continued, his words became more fluid. He spilled everything he knew before Wentworth could even ask further questions.

Satisfied, Wentworth nodded and then posed the question he was most concerned about:

"How did you manage to place the Portkey on my bed?"

Even Dumbledore, who had been standing aside nonchalantly, turned back with interest at this query. After all, this matter directly affected Hogwarts' security. A Portkey couldn't have just walked onto Wentworth's bed on its own.

"I don't know anything about a Portkey! Our job was simply to wait here. According to the cloaked figure, we just had to grab the young wizard who arrived here tonight and deliver them to the client's specified location. That's it—we didn't handle anything else."

After the wizard hunter finished, Wentworth fell into deep thought. After a moment, he asked:

"So, if I were to ask who hired you, you wouldn't know, would you?"

The wizard hunter, looking utterly dejected, replied:

"We never ask about clients. We just take the money and do the job. I came straight to Britain from Canada and stayed in Knockturn Alley until tonight, when we were summoned to this location."

Hearing this, Wentworth slowly stood up, turning to Dumbledore.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I'll leave it to you to verify if this man's story checks out."

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