"Hogwarts Purebloods?" Leon's eyes lit up, and he nodded approvingly at everyone. "That's a good name."
"It sounds much better than the Dark Lord's Death Eaters or Grindelwald's Saints!" Jericho added with a smirk. Despite invoking the two most feared Dark Lords in wizarding history, he seemed entirely unbothered—prompting Leon to frown disapprovingly at the flippancy.
"What nonsense! Sir is not a Dark Lord!" Leon snapped, glaring at Jericho. Then, puffing out his chest proudly, he looked around at the students seated before him and deliberately raised his voice: "We are seeking justice for the Malfoy family. This is a just and honorable cause—we represent the purity of British wizarding blood."
Leon felt proud. In his dreams, he had always hoped that both teachers and students at Hogwarts would recognize his sense of duty and nobility. He saw it as a source of pride—a badge of honor.
And under Moriarty's influence, Leon's dream gradually became reality.
Suddenly, he thought of William.
The corners of Leon's mouth curved upward. If his old rival could see him now, he'd probably be consumed with envy.
Leon made up his mind to write to William after this affair concluded—just to rub it in.
Then, unexpectedly, an owl flew in. Its wings flapped at an incredible speed, and its legs had been dyed bright red.
"That's an owl from the Owl Post Office!" Leon pointed. "To differentiate delivery priority, they magically dye the owls' legs. Red means urgent—look! It's carrying a Howler!"
Everyone turned toward the owl just as it gave a piercing screech and dropped the Howler directly into Moriarty's arms.
For me?
Moriarty opened the letter in surprise, and a broken, sobbing woman's voice rang out, echoing through the great hall.
"Lucius… after Lucius left, everything changed… It all came so quickly… The Malfoy family is in danger, and I don't know what I should do to protect myself and my son.
Mr. Moriarty, please… help me. Only you… only you aren't tempted by our family's wealth. I can only rely on you.
If this truly cannot be undone, I'm prepared to give up my life. Just protect Draco… please!"
The voice cracked and faded into silence.
The letter had come from Narcissa.
The hall was dead silent. No one had expected the first Howler addressed to Moriarty would come from Narcissa Malfoy—the grieving widow whose husband's death still dominated headlines.
Most students had expected the first Howler to be a confession letter, a Valentine's gift from an admirer—a typical expression of schoolyard affection.
But instead, they heard a mother's desperate plea.
Leon, Keith, and a few other pure-blood students who had lost family members turned red with empathy.
They understood too well the greed that lurked in the pure-blood world. Barely a day had passed since Lucius Malfoy's death, and already, several families were making moves on Malfoy assets.
This only made it more critical to uncover the killer. They couldn't afford to delay.
A sense of responsibility and unity surged in their chests.
Meanwhile, Lilith caught something strange.
When the Malfoys fell into crisis, why was Moriarty the first person Narcissa turned to?
Lilith narrowed her eyes at Moriarty suspiciously. He had claimed earlier that he wasn't familiar with the Malfoy family.
Could it be…?
But Lilith couldn't deny that Narcissa's choice made sense. Among pure-bloods, Moriarty truly seemed uninterested in their wealth.
Maybe Dumbledore was another candidate. But Old Dumbledore seemed utterly exhausted these days—like he was being constantly pestered by flies. Lilith ruled him out immediately.
Still—Narcissa was born a Black.
She was the third princess of the ancient and powerful Black family. Did she truly lack the ability to defend her family's holdings?
Lilith didn't buy it. The Black family didn't raise weaklings.
Unless… unless Narcissa had ulterior motives.
Narcissa… that cunning woman! What exactly was she planning?
Lilith stared at Moriarty, her eyes blazing with speculation. The more she thought about it, the more absurd it sounded:
A grieving widow—no, a single woman now—conspiring to win over a charming, heroic young wizard?
A man as elegant and noble as a jade sculpture, with the wind at his back and fire in his soul? Moriarty—the romantic, refined, fearlessly intelligent Moriarty?
Tsk!
Lilith gritted her teeth and clenched her fists.
This sort of scheme wasn't unheard of.
There was already a notorious "Black Widow" in the pure-blood world—Mrs. Zabini.
Lilith hadn't forgotten how that vixen sidled up to Moriarty during the last pure-blood gathering.
"Trying to make Moriarty her fifth husband? That seductive spider!" Lilith had scoffed at the time.
And now… there was another spider spinning her web.
Lilith could no longer sit still.
Just as the Howler finished burning itself to ashes, Moriarty stood up and spoke decisively.
"Before we leave for France, we go to Malfoy Manor."
The other 35 members nodded in agreement. Unlike Lilith, they hadn't read too deeply into the Howler—they simply felt that it was time to support the Malfoy family.
Time to unite. Time to warm one another in the cold.
Perhaps… it was long overdue.
The 35 students felt something awaken in their hearts.
But then they overheard an odd conversation between Moriarty and Marcus.
"You know them well. They'll take us to France, right?" Moriarty asked.
"Yes, sir," Marcus replied solemnly, then added with a grin. "I've worked with them for over a year. If you approach them the right way, they're completely trustworthy. They won't hurt anyone."
Marcus turned toward the castle gates, and suddenly a sharp cry rang out.
As the students looked on in confusion, a Hippogriff flew into the hall through the open doors.
"Wow!" A collective gasp of awe filled the room.
"Sir, the Poker Family is assembled and ready for flight!" Marcus called out while astride the Hippogriff.
"The Poker Family?" someone repeated in surprise.
Moriarty smiled. "That's what Marcus named the Hippogriff colony in the Forbidden Forest. Each one corresponds to a playing card.
They'll take us to Malfoy Manor—and then to France."
With that, Moriarty strode confidently toward the gates. His school uniform shimmered and transformed into a sleek silver robe, with a regal blue serpent coiled on the back.
"Let's move!"
His command rang through the hall. The other 34 pure-bloods snapped to attention and chased after him, spirits high.
Jericho sprinted ahead. "Wait for me, sir! Hey—your robe is really cool! Can I get one too?"
"Everyone gets one," Moriarty said with a grin. He raised his wand and tapped the group. Instantly, their uniforms transformed into matching robes.
The professors and students rushed after them—Lilith, meanwhile, had already cloaked herself in a Disillusionment Charm and slipped through the gates unseen.
They all stopped at the doors, watching as a band of robed students ran across the lawn.
Not far away, the Hippogriffs whinnied with joy under Marcus's guidance.
Only Dumbledore remained behind the crowd. He removed his glasses and looked toward the sky, lost in thought.
Professor McGonagall joined him quietly. "When did that boy learn to tame Hippogriffs? Even Hagrid hasn't done that."
"A year ago, Marcus Flint developed a fascination with Magical Creatures," Dumbledore said softly. "Hagrid and Professor Kettleburn dismissed it as a passing obsession.
But he stuck with it. Now, he enters the Forbidden Forest freely—no creature attacks him."
The old man smiled. "Give him a few more years, and even Newt Scamander might be impressed."
McGonagall's jaw dropped. Marcus, the boy she once feared wouldn't graduate, being compared to Newt Scamander?
She shook her head in disbelief.
"So that's why you let Moriarty lead them?" she asked.
"I don't know if what Moriarty is doing is right," Dumbledore said. "Only he knows. He must prove it—just as we all must.
But I do know this: Lucius Malfoy's death isn't simple. A pure-blood wizard doesn't die to vampires—not without questions. We can't let this go unanswered."
Murderous resolve flickered in his eyes.
McGonagall didn't respond. She just offered a silent prayer for the 36 students.
"They're mounting the Hippogriffs!" one of the Weasley twins exclaimed.
"Oh, Merlin! They're actually flying!"
At the center of the group, Moriarty mounted a majestic Hippogriff.
"That's the King!" Jericho's eyes lit up. Then he spotted the Hippogriff next to it. "And that one must be the King's mate! Mine!"
Leon shoved him aside. "I'm Sir's best assistant! That one's mine!"
"Hah!" Jericho shot back. "I've been with him longer. You can take the King of Spades."
"In strength, I'm leagues ahead of you!" Leon challenged, drawing his wand.
But before they could duel, the Hippogriff in question soared into the air.
"Too late!" a teasing voice rang out overhead.
Lilith had lifted her Disillusionment Charm and revealed herself, straddling the Hippogriff.
"Pilivik?" Jericho and Leon gasped in unison.
Lilith turned to Moriarty. "Take me along—I promise I'll only go as far as Malfoy Manor. I won't follow you to France.
I know the law—I can help Narcissa Malfoy and stop the greedy pure-bloods from taking advantage."
She smiled sweetly.
But the way she emphasized "Mrs. Malfoy" made her intent clear.
That old woman better watch out… I'm not letting her steal my spotlight.
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