Chapter 16 - The Plan

Accompanied by Gabriel Lourd, Lucius waited calmly outside the interrogation room. He was there when the Aurors arrived, Alastor Moody at the front, followed by Ron Weasley and Bruna Nichols. The rest of the staff in the corridor pretended to be busy, but it was evident that everyone was paying close attention to the unfolding scene.

Moody, with his penetrating gaze and ever-alert expression, was the first to speak.

— Malfoy, come to confess? — he asked, his voice laden with distrust.

— Moody. — Lucius greeted, inclining his head slightly to each of them, his voice laced with calculated politeness. — I am here to fully cooperate with the investigation.

Moody, his face marked by irritation, replied in a mordant tone:

— I hope that's true, Malfoy. Your lawyers caused a stir, as if we took pleasure in listening to you complain for 17 hours about how uncomfortable the chair was and how you would rather be at home taking a bubble bath.

Lucius maintained his firm posture and responded calmly:

— I intend to be more helpful this time.

Discreet whispers reverberated in the corridors as staff members peeked covertly from behind documents and stacks of parchment, curiosity clearly etched on their faces. Everyone waited anxiously for the outcome of that encounter.

— Let's go in. — said Moody, gesturing toward the interrogation room door. — If you really came to talk, know that we're eager to listen.

…

Outside the Ministry, while pretending to jot something down in her familiar notepad, Rita Skeeter noticed a movement that deviated from the crowd's usual rhythm. Her trained eyes caught the exact moment when a wizard, impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, emerged from the Auror Headquarters and, without wasting time, headed directly toward Kimmy Courteney, the president of the BTL.

Kimmy was a figure who radiated confidence and power. Her black hair, falling in loose curls over her shoulders, swayed lightly in the breeze, and her thin-framed glasses gave her a fierce intellectual air. But what really stood out was her penetrating gaze, as if she were ready to challenge anyone who dared oppose her. Rita narrowed her eyes, focusing all her attention on the older, more sophisticated-looking wizard.

He was not like the young protesters, with their more casual and unpolished attire. On the contrary, his posture and well-fitted suit made him seem like someone from the upper class, completely out of place in that environment. Something about him didn't fit. The man inclined his head, his lips barely moving as he whispered something into Kimmy's ear.

Rita's heart beat a bit faster, her journalistic instinct warning her that this was important. Kimmy listened attentively and, the next second, her expression changed. It was subtle, but Rita noticed a sudden gleam in the BTL leader's eyes.

— Interesting… — murmured Rita, shifting discreetly to try to hear better. But it was too late.

The man had already moved away, disappearing in the same direction he had come from, and Kimmy, visibly agitated, began to move quickly through the crowd, whispering something to the protesters. The effect was immediate. A new energy seemed to take hold of the group, as if an invisible spark had been lit.

At that moment, something even more intriguing caught Rita's attention. Among the young BTL agitators, a few figures stood out, clearly out of place. Their refined attire and attentive looks contrasted sharply with the activists. Rita had been monitoring the telephone booth that served as the Ministry's entrance, as she knew Wilma Dean would arrive that way as usual, and therefore she was practically certain she had not seen those people enter through there. Given that the Ministry's fireplaces were blocked due to the protest, the only plausible explanation was that someone, from one of the underground shops, had allowed them to pass through discreetly.

The agitation began to grow, and Rita knew something big was happening. Determined to find out, she began to approach silently. She couldn't miss this opportunity.

…

With all the commotion of the protesters outside and Lucius's arrival for interrogation, every Auror had something important to attend to. Fleur was alone in the Aurors' office.

The environment, usually bustling and full of busy witches and wizards, was now quiet, with only the soft glow of magical torches casting shadows on the stone walls. She knew she had little time before someone appeared.

With quick and silent steps, she approached Ron's desk and, with steady hands, opened the locked drawer using the key he had left behind. Inside, she found the map of Azkaban, detailed and covered with annotations, much more than she, Lucius, and Rita had imagined.

Fleur took a deep breath, feeling adrenaline course through her veins. Her photographic memory allowed her to absorb every detail quickly, but she needed time to evaluate each quadrant of the map. She had to be fast, absorbing each detail and deciphering the additional notes that revealed more secrets than she expected. Time seemed to run faster as she worked meticulously; every second was crucial.

…

The interrogation room was austere and functional, its gray walls exuding an almost oppressive chill, while a dark wooden table dominated the center of the space. Heavy, uncomfortable iron chairs were arranged around the table. A bewitched wall allowed those outside to observe everything happening inside without being seen. Upon entering, Lucius noticed the agitation of the staff members crowded outside to watch the interrogation, their eyes fixed and intent, like vultures observing prey, through the magical wall.

Bruna Nichols positioned herself in a corner of the room, preparing to act as the scribe, with an enchanted quill and parchment ready to record every word. Moody and Ron took their places facing Lucius, their hard, uncompromising stares ready to begin the series of questions that could seal the man's fate. Before starting, Ron activated a spell on the wall, making it impossible to see what happened outside the room. The interior closed in even more, creating a claustrophobic environment.

— Nichols, record everything. — ordered Moody, his voice dry and authoritative, and Bruna nodded silently, already focused on her task.

Lucius settled into the chair with unshakable confidence, each movement carefully calculated to exude an aura of superiority that filled the room. His fingers slid smoothly over the chair's arm as he crossed his legs elegantly, as if he were at a formal dinner rather than on the verge of interrogation.

Moody's magical eye rotated frantically, capturing every nuance of Lucius's behavior, while his hands clenched involuntarily over the folder containing notes from Lucius's last interrogation. Malfoy's provocative calm made Moody's blood boil. Each subtle smile, each condescending look, irritated the veteran Auror deeply.

…

Fleur was bent over Ron's desk, memorizing every detail of the map. Azkaban's markings and patrol routes were all there, and she knew every second was precious.

Suddenly, voices echoed down the corridor, getting closer. She clearly heard hurried footsteps and laughter approaching.

— Come on, guys! Malfoy must have told them everything by now! — said a male voice, clearly amused.

— Did you call Raph? — asked another, between laughs.

— I called Ralph… and the whole Ministry! — replied the first, laughing.

Then a third voice interrupted abruptly:

— Wait up! I left my sound amplifier on my desk. Let me grab it before we go.

Fleur's heart raced. They were coming straight to where she was. If they caught her there, there would be no escape. With a quick movement, she turned her attention away from the map and jumped behind Ron's desk, closed her eyes and focused her magic, feeling the energy run through her body like sparks.

— Zaino, now! — she whispered, knowing she needed an immediate distraction.

…

In the Ministry's atrium, the vast marble hall of the first floor, Fleur's abandoned backpack under a bench opened smoothly, as if obeying an invisible command. From it slid Zaino. The creature slithered across the marble floor, its dark skin contrasting with the cold gleam of the polished surface.

The guard, standing watch by the door, his eyes on the protest against Minister of Magic Wilma Dean, cast a distracted glance around the lobby. Upon spotting the deadly serpent sliding across the atrium, he froze, his heart almost stopping. It took precious seconds to grasp the danger before him, and then, in a suffocated scream of terror, he shouted:

— Basilisk!

…

Moody, wearing a rigid expression, leafed through the folder containing the transcripts of Lucius Malfoy's previous 17-hour interrogation. He raised his eyes, fixing Lucius with a sharp gaze, and spoke in a controlled tone:

— Here are the transcripts of your interrogation. Do you have anything to add?

He remained silent, allowing the tension in the room to intensify. The anger Moody felt for Malfoy, after hours wasted on evasive and arrogant answers, was evident, but he would not let it show. Instead, he allowed Lucius the space to speak freely, hoping the wizard would slip up or contradict himself.

Lucius, however, maintained his composure, responding calmly:

— I stand by my position from the first interrogation — he stated with controlled firmness. — I have no knowledge of the events in question.

Moody raised an eyebrow, clearly dissatisfied with the answer, but he continued to observe Lucius in silence, letting only a hint of impatience show on his face. Finally, he spoke coldly:

— Then why are you here, Malfoy? Just to waste more of our time?

Lucius took a deep breath before replying:

— First of all, allow me to express my sincere apologies for my behavior in the last interrogation — said Lucius, carefully calibrating his tone to convey a regret he wished would sound genuine.

Moody crossed his arms, maintaining a hard posture, and without changing his tone, replied:

— If you're so sorry, get straight to the point. We don't have time for your games.

Lucius sighed, feeling the weight of the moment, before admitting:

— You are right to question my sincerity, Moody. I was consumed by a deep anger against the prison system. I was treated deplorably by a broken system, and my frustration led me to deliberately hinder the Aurors' work as a petty form of revenge. I was rude to you, to Mr. Weasley, and even to Miss Nichols, who is barely old enough to wield a wand outside of school.

Moody did not respond, letting the tension accumulate. Lucius continued:

— Without further ado, let me get straight to the point. I bring highly relevant information about the case, which I find appropriate to share with you.

…

In the atrium, the guard, gripped by terror, crouched behind the checkpoint and slammed the alarm with a trembling gesture, desperate to shield himself from the basilisk's lethal gaze. With eyes closed and trembling hands, he pointed his wand at his throat and, in a desperate move, amplified his voice:

— Basilisk in the atrium! I need help, Aurors! I need help!

The scream reverberated through the vast space, echoing off the marble walls and down adjacent corridors, shaking the wizards nearby. The reaction was immediate. Rushing footsteps and alarmed voices began to fill the environment, as Aurors on site, now alerted, mobilized to face the imminent threat.

Zaino, however, showed no haste. Slithering with an unsettling calm, it moved through the atrium, exploring the space with an almost arrogant indifference. Its movements were slow and lazy, as if believing that territory belonged to it. While the basilisk continued its unhurried journey through the atrium, chaos seemed on the verge of exploding.

…

The wizards gathered anxiously in front of the bewitched wall that allowed them to see Lucius Malfoy sitting in the interrogation room. To them, the magical barrier was completely transparent, a window into what they believed was Lucius's imminent confession. On the other side, however, Lucius could not see them, only sense the invisible pressure of dozens of eyes fixed on his every move.

The tension among the spectators was visible, with whispers and speculation filling the air. "He's going to confess, I know it," murmured one wizard, gripping his colleague's arm with anticipation. "It's written on his face; he won't hold out much longer," added another. But not all were convinced. "Lucius Malfoy give in? Not in a million years," grumbled a skeptical spectator, folding his arms with a suspicious look. "He'll keep that arrogant posture until the end, you can bet," affirmed another, shaking his head as if he'd seen this scene before.

Suddenly, a desperate scream cut through the silence:

— Basilisk in the atrium! I need help, Aurors! I need help!

The warning echoed down the corridors like thunder, instantly transforming the atmosphere of expectation into panic. The fear of the deadly creature spread among the wizards.

Those crowded there looked at each other, terror replacing curiosity. Without a second thought, they began to disperse, running toward the atrium, leaving behind the view of Lucius through the enchanted wall. The sound of their hurried, disordered footsteps echoed down the corridor.

…

Meanwhile, the wizards heading to the Aurors' office to get the sound amplifier, so they could clearly hear Lucius Malfoy's testimony, were suddenly interrupted by an unexpected sound. The alarm echoed through the corridors, slicing the air urgently, followed by a distressing cry for help coming from the atrium.

…

Hearing the guard's shout about the basilisk, Fleur's heart raced. While chaos took shape outside, she struggled to maintain control, nervousness and fear of being caught there, and of something happening to Zaino, consumed her. Each second felt heavier than the last, as she forced her breathing to remain calm, even knowing that the danger was real and growing.

…

Outside, the wizards on their way to get the amplifier felt the tension rise as a group of colleagues, who previously had been crowded in front of the interrogation room, came running toward them. Their faces reflected the gravity of the situation, all mobilizing to respond to the emergency unfolding in the atrium.

Without hesitation, the wizards turned around, their robes billowing as they ran toward the atrium.

…

Fleur heard the sound of Aurors' quick steps resonating in the corridor, a threatening echo approaching rapidly from the group previously gathered in front of the interrogation room. Without hesitation, she crouched lower behind Ron's desk, keeping her body close to the floor.

Her heart was pounding so loudly that she could hear it in her ears. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, but she forced herself to keep her breathing controlled and silent, hiding even the slightest hint of her presence. The tension in the air was palpable, and each passing second seemed to drag on like an eternity. The sound of footsteps became deafening for a moment, as if the Aurors could hear the sound of fear in her chest.

She kept her eyes fixed on a tiny crack in the floor, using it to focus and chase away panicked thoughts. Hearing the footsteps was a test of her nerves; they were so close that Fleur could imagine the Aurors moving only a few meters away. Any false move, any labored breath, could give her away.

Over time, the footsteps began to recede, first slowly, then faster, until finally the corridor fell silent again. But Fleur did not move right away. She knew well the security tricks and traps. The Aurors could be lurking, waiting to catch anyone hiding, waiting for a false sense of security.

She remained still, muscles tense, waiting what felt like long minutes. Only when she was absolutely sure the danger had passed did she dare peek over the desk. The corridor was empty, shadows stretching along the walls without any movement. Carefully, she rose, still half-crouched.

The room was submerged in heavy silence, broken only by her controlled breathing. She knew time was running against her and she needed to act fast. But the wait had been worth it. The calm in the corridor indicated the Aurors were far away, giving her a small window of opportunity.

…

The silence in the interrogation room was heavy. The chaos unfolding outside at that very moment could not penetrate the room, thanks to enchantments that isolated external interference.

Bruna Nichols kept the enchanted quill at the ready, prepared to record every word Malfoy uttered next, but in her small notebook, she discreetly scribbled personal notes. This was her first major interrogation, and she wanted to capture every detail, from Moody's subtle reactions to the imposing posture and body language he displayed so naturally.

Bruna's eyes swept the environment, absorbing every nuance, every change in expression. Suddenly, her magic quill began to move again, gliding across the parchment fluidly, indicating that Lucius had resumed his testimony. With a slight start, Bruna turned all her attention back to the words forming on the parchment, aware that, at that moment, every sentence could be crucial.

— My personal sources informed me that a family jewel of mine was found at the current Minister of Magic's rally — said Lucius, his voice low and controlled, as if sharing a carefully guarded secret. — This greatly concerned me.

Moody arched an eyebrow, a mocking smile curving his lips.

— Oh, really? — he murmured, his voice laden with cynicism. — And how exactly did you discover that?

Lucius gave a cold smile, his eyes shining with calculated cunning.

— I am a Malfoy, Moody. I still have my contacts.

Moody let out a dry, almost derisive laugh.

— Funny, Malfoy. Because, from what I've heard, since you left Azkaban, no one wants to be associated with you, including your own family.

Lucius felt his teeth clench, discomfort manifesting in a forced smile. His fingers tensed slightly inside his coat pocket, but he kept his tone polite, without letting his irritation show.

— Once again, I must say I understand your distrust, Moody — he replied, his voice smoothly controlled. — But I am truly here to contribute to the investigation. When I learned that my family's jewel was connected to the rally, I immediately reviewed my inventory of jewels. Curiously, it was listed as being in the vault, but upon checking personally, I found that it was not where it should have been. What I'm trying to tell you is that several of my family's magical jewels are in the same situation. — Lucius paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. — After a complete inventory, I realized that many items are missing. Twenty-seven, to be exact.

Moody and Ron exchanged a quick glance, a tacit understanding passing between them. Lucius, noticing he had finally captured the Aurors' attention, continued with the same deliberate calm:

— As proof of my goodwill, I brought a detailed list of all the missing magical jewels, along with a description of their specific powers.

Moody took the list, his eyes scanning the pages with critical attention, while heavy silence reclaimed its place in the room.

…

Fleur returned to her place at Ron's desk. The map before her was the focus. It was a detailed representation of Azkaban, with all the entries, exits, and guard patrol routes.

Her fingers traced the routes with absolute precision, moving above the parchment as if guided by an invisible line. She didn't touch the map, avoiding leaving any mark or smudge, but her mind was absorbing every detail like a sponge. Her eyes, sharp and perceptive, noted each overlap of patrols, each small interval between guard shifts. Every vulnerable point was recorded in her memory, ready to be transcribed at the right moment.

Time worked against her. Every passing second brought her closer to the critical moment, but Fleur maintained her composure. She closed her eyes for an instant, breathing deeply to steady her rhythm and maintain focus. She could not afford a mistake. Any distraction, any hesitation, could ruin everything.

…

Rita Skeeter watched intently, staying in the shadows, as chaos unfolded before her. The crowd, previously noisy but disorganized, had transformed—shouts echoed with an almost palpable rage. She still didn't know what the wizard had told Kimmy, but knew it was explosive. The BTL leader had reacted with controlled fury, passing the information along to the protesters with a swiftness that transformed the atmosphere.

Now, tension hung in the air like thunder about to break the sky. Suddenly, among the growing din, one word stood out, slicing through the murmurs of the crowd like a sharp blade:

— Malfoy!

Rita felt the impact of the word before she fully processed it. Her mind raced, fitting the puzzle pieces together in an instant. The name that had been whispered so cautiously had finally been revealed. Lucius Malfoy.

Like a spark meeting a barrel of gunpowder, the name reverberated through the crowd, and the agitation reached a new level. Rita observed everything with sharp eyes, the cunning gleam in her gaze revealing that she knew exactly what that meant. The man had told Kimmy that Lucius Malfoy was in the Auror Headquarters. And that simple piece of information was enough to ignite a crowd already on the brink of revolt. Rita smiled, utterly satisfied.

Rita Skeeter knew very well that many of those young protesters had relatives imprisoned in Azkaban, former Death Eaters who had been captured thanks to Lucius Malfoy's revelations after the war. That detail fueled the growing rage among the protesters. The name "Malfoy" was a symbol of betrayal to them. This combination of resentment and a thirst for vengeance turned the demonstration into a minefield of volatile emotions, ready to explode at any moment.

…

As Fleur studied the Azkaban map, every detail settled into her mind with precision. In some cells, which probably held high-profile prisoners, she noticed names written down, all codenames. She memorized them carefully, organizing each piece of information. However, something curious caught her attention: the word "Veela" inscribed at one point. It was not disturbing, but piqued her curiosity, making her remember that she would need to ask Lucius about that intriguing detail.

…

In the interrogation room, Moody observed closely the list of missing jewels that Lucius had given him.

Ron exchanged a meaningful look with Bruna; both were already aware of this information and had discussed it with Moody before.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Gabriel Lourd, the young Auror, entered the room with urgent steps, his face slightly pale.

Moody, his reflexes sharp, already had his wand in hand, his gaze cutting like a blade.

— What the devil, Lourd! — Moody roared, his voice loaded with reprimand. — How many times must I tell you not to interrupt an interrogation?

Gabriel hesitated for an instant, feeling the weight of his mistake, but did not falter. Still breathless, he hurried to explain:

— Pardon me, sir, but I think you should know… there's a basilisk in the atrium.

Moody frowned, incredulity marking his features.

— What? — he muttered, the word slipping between surprise and disbelief.

Upon hearing the word "basilisk," Ron felt a chill run down his spine, dark memories of Hogwarts returning instantly. His eyes widened briefly, but he soon set his jaw, exchanging a serious look with Nichols. Bruna Nichols, still young and less experienced, could not hide her shock, her heart racing and her hands trembling slightly as she struggled to maintain composure.

Lourd swallowed hard before continuing:

— We believe it was the protesters, sir!

Moody, already rising from his chair and handing the list to Ron, said:

— Weasley, Nichols, stay here with Malfoy — he ordered authoritatively. — Let him stretch his legs and have a coffee if he wants. We don't need his lawyers accusing us of ill-treatment later.

He headed quickly to the door, his gaze firm and determined. Before leaving, he turned one last time to Ron, fury contained in every word:

— I'll sort this out in an instant. But this time, those delinquents' parents will have to answer! This won't come cheap!

…

Suddenly, Fleur heard footsteps in the corridor. But beyond that, she recognized the sound of Alastor Moody's wooden leg. Her heart raced. With nowhere to run, she hid again behind Ron's desk, trying to control her breathing.

…

Moody left the interrogation room with long, swift strides, followed by Gabriel Lourd. When they passed by the Aurors' office, Moody stopped abruptly. His magical eye swiveled, picking up something.

— Wait a moment — said Moody, frowning. — Something's wrong here.

Fleur held her breath, her body tense. She covered her mouth with her hands to control her erratic breathing. She knew Moody's magical eye was not just a common observation tool. He could see through solid surfaces, and if Moody directed his gaze toward Ron's desk, he would easily see her hiding there. Fleur hoped that the myriad of magical items scattered throughout the room would somehow interfere, making his task more difficult. And, with a bit of luck, among so many desks, Moody would not choose exactly the one where she was hiding to inspect.

Moody narrowed his eyes, his face growing even darker as his magical eye spun frenetically. With a swift movement, he drew his wand and took a step toward the door. Then, just as his fingers touched the doorknob, Gabriel Lourd, knowing Moody's famous security paranoia and thinking it was just another of his exaggerations, cautiously tapped his shoulder.

— We don't have time for this, sir! There's a basilisk in the atrium!

Moody hesitated for a second, still torn between following his instincts or addressing the crisis unfolding. Finally, he nodded, recognizing the urgency.

— Very well, Lourd. Let's go.

With one last glance at the room, Moody headed toward the elevator.

…

In the atrium, chaos spread rapidly. Witches and wizards ran in every direction, desperately trying to avoid the basilisk's lethal gaze. Each time the creature tilted its head to one side, the screams echoed through the space: "Stairs!" when it looked to the right, and "Basement!" when it turned to the left. It was a desperate attempt to escape the creature's terrifying presence.

Containment spells and magical barriers sprang into the air in a frantic effort to restrain the threat. In the midst of the confusion appeared Alice Roy, a blind witch known for her extraordinary ability to cast spells guided only by hearing.

Alice positioned herself firmly in front of Zaino, her heightened senses capturing every tiny movement around her. The basilisk raised its imposing head, but with its eyes obediently closed, as Fleur had instructed. Alice, unaware of Zaino's peaceful gesture, remained ready to act. Determined, she raised her wand, pointing directly at the basilisk, and in a firm voice she shouted:

— Petrificus Totalus!

…

In the midst of the demonstration, Rita adjusted her position, seeking to capture every detail of the scene. The crowd, fueled by the rumor that Lucius Malfoy was inside the Ministry, grew in fury and size.

Among the protesters, Rita kept noticing some older figures that contrasted with the young, boisterous BTL group. She noted that they showed no interest in participating in the demonstration; they simply stood in the middle of the crowd, watching everything that happened, as if waiting for something. This aroused Rita's curiosity, but also sparked a small twinge of concern that something bad might happen.

Then one of the protesters cried out:

— There's a basilisk in the atrium!

The revelation spread through the crowd like wildfire, igniting tempers in an unexpected way. Instead of backing away, the protesters became even more inflamed with determination. The crowd began to applaud, as if the presence of the legendary creature were an imminent victory. Others, in a gesture of reverence, fell to their knees on the ground, weeping and shouting words in honor of Salazar Slytherin, proclaiming the basilisk's appearance as a divine sign.

Rita watched the scene, incredulous, her eyes narrowing as she witnessed the crowd's almost fanatical reaction. Unable to contain her thoughts, she muttered to herself:

— It can kill you with a single glance, remember?

The irrationality of the situation left Rita perplexed, with the crowd now not only motivated by dissatisfaction with Minister Wilma Dean or by hatred of Lucius Malfoy, but also by the fervent conviction that they were witnessing something extraordinary and divine.

…

Moody, accompanied by Gabriel Lourd, was in the elevator on the way to the atrium where the basilisk awaited. Deciding to avoid a possible ambush, he stopped on the upper floor and, with Lourd by his side, descended via the side stairs.

From the top of the stairs, Moody watched the atrium with his ever-attentive eyes and a firm expression. And then he saw Alice Roy pointing her wand at the basilisk and shouting:

— Petrificus Totalus!

The spell shot forward like an arrow, striking Zaino squarely.

The entire atrium seemed to hold its breath, every witch and wizard paralyzed, waiting for the outcome of the tense situation. Zaino, as if sensing the expectation in the air, remained motionless for a few moments, its body as rigid as stone. Then, suddenly, it let out a high-pitched, menacing hiss that reverberated through the marble walls, causing Alice Roy to instinctively recoil a step.

The Aurors observing the scene shouted in unison, urgency evident in their voices:

— Roy! Get out of there!

Their voices echoed through the atrium, breaking the tense silence, as everyone awaited the creature's next move.

Alice retreated slowly until she felt the cold metal surface of the door behind her. Firmly, she searched for the mechanism, and the elevator door opened. Quickly, Alice stepped inside and pressed the internal button. As the doors closed, Alice once again pointed her wand in Zaino's direction and shouted:

— Speculum sphaera! — creating a reflective energy sphere around the basilisk.

The elevator doors closed, isolating her from the threat, while the elevator pulled her away from that chaotic situation.

Beside Lourd, Moody assessed the scene with precision, noting Alice's determination amid the tension, and then shouted:

— He's trying to get out through the door! Don't let him attack the protesters. Stop him now! — his voice cutting the air like a blade.

The Aurors turned to him, hesitating for a few seconds. Moody, impatient at his team's inertia and confusion, bellowed in fury:

— Hell! — And, without his wooden leg slowing him down in the slightest, he descended the steps firmly, each step echoing through the atrium. With a decisive wave of his wand, he cast a spell that slammed the door shut with a bang, trapping the basilisk inside the atrium.

…

In the Aurors' office, the weight of concern for Zaino left Fleur static for a few seconds. She knew that a young basilisk would never stand a chance against the relentless Alastor Moody. And although the law enforcement officers were forbidden from casting fatal spells on such creatures, Zaino's capture would mean the irreparable loss of her legal guardianship and the inevitable exposure of her connection to the entire scheme. The outcome would be far more disastrous than she had ever dared to imagine.

The fear for Zaino's safety, and also for her own, began to suffocate her. Determined, she moved away from the desk where the map lay, without having fully memorized the schedules noted there—but that hardly mattered now. Zaino was her priority. Closing her eyes, Fleur focused, feeling the intense flow of magic course through her body. With a firm whisper, she commanded:

— Enough now, Zaino. Go, as we agreed.

But she did not feel the familiar vibration that always reassured her when Zaino received her commands. At that moment, certainty took hold in her heart: the basilisk had not received her message. The anguish that he might have been captured, or worse, injured, overwhelmed her with crushing intensity. Murmuring to herself, her voice trembling with despair, she whispered:

— Be safe, Zaino, please… be safe.

Her gaze reflected growing dread, and uncertainty wove around her like a suffocating web. At that moment, Fleur began to feel what she most feared: her carefully drawn plan was on the verge of collapse.