The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 339 The Bursting Killing Intent

Chapter 339 The Burst of Killing Intent (4.2K) (2/2)

Without the slightest hesitation, Sirius and Professor McGonagall quickly separated themselves by several steps, each choosing a relatively stable foothold, and raised their wands.

"A misty haze!" Professor McGonagall's voice was clear and powerful, carrying her usual precision and unwavering conviction. A large plume of milky-white, dense, cotton-like mist shot from the tip of her wand, surging towards the center of the camp as if propelled by an invisible force. Her lips were tightly pressed together, and veins bulged on her temples, clearly indicating she was exerting maximum magical power to control the concentration and direction of the mist's spread.

On the other side, Sirius Black also shouted in a deep voice, "Misty Clouds!" The mist that spewed from his wand was slightly gray, churning and surging, carrying an aura of restlessness, contrasting with Professor McGonagall's orderly white mist, but equally astonishing in scale. His gray eyes were fixed on the chaotic firelight in front of him, as if he wanted to devour all the chaos into this hazy world he had created.

Two powerful plumes of fog rapidly merged and spread, like two enormous, ever-growing gray-white curtains, closing in from both sides of the camp towards the center. Wherever the fog passed, the flames of burning tents became hazy and distorted, running figures turned into blurry ghosts, and the cacophony of sounds was shrouded in a dull thud. Panic screams seemed to be muffled, and the Death Eaters' arrogant laughter lost its clear source. The chaos did not cease, but it was thrust into a vast and unfamiliar medium, making everything slow and unpredictable.

However, just as Professor McGonagall and Sirius felt their magic gushing out like a flood, struggling to maintain basic control over the massive fog, a strange sensation suddenly struck them—

It was as if the reins held tightly in one's hand were suddenly and gently "taken over" by an irresistible, perfectly smooth force.

The fog turned into a hazy gray.

Their sense of control over the fog, that tactile sensation of "shaping" and "pushing" that was painstakingly maintained through the wand, was silently severed in that instant.

It is not a violent seizure, but a more sophisticated and thorough "takeover".

Just like a stream flowing into a pre-planned riverbed, it naturally loses the power to determine its own direction of flow.

They could still feel the continuous output of their own magic, even more smoothly, no longer needing to painstakingly control the details, but the vast fog that was enveloping the camp no longer obeyed the subtle commands of their will.

At the same time, Lynch's calm voice rang directly in their ears, clear as a whisper, yet undisturbed by the surrounding fog or the distant noise: "That's enough. Go back to the tents. Protect Harry and the others."

Both of them were startled and turned sharply to look at the spot where Lin Qi had just stood. There was only swirling, increasingly dense gray-white mist. Lin Qi's figure had vanished without a trace, as if he had never existed. Only his words still echoed clearly in their ears.

Professor McGonagall and Sirius exchanged a glance, both seeing shock and understanding in each other's eyes.

The Mist Executioners' mastery of the magic of ethereal mist far exceeded their expectations.

He only needed them to provide the "raw materials" and initial thrust, and then in an instant, he silently took over and precisely manipulated the results of the spell cast by the two powerful wizards.

There was no time to think. From the distance, the angry shouts of Death Eaters and the blind whistling of spells echoed through the fog, but the sounds seemed distant and scattered. The thick fog was spreading with extraordinary speed and efficiency, rapidly narrowing the field of vision.

"Go!" Sirius shouted and rushed towards the tent entrance, with Professor McGonagall turning around and following without hesitation.

Thick, cold, and seemingly alive mist silently swirled and swirled around Lynch.

He stood silently in the air, perfectly blending into the backdrop of mist.

Not far below, stood the Death Eater squad responsible for setting fires and creating panic in this area of ​​the camp. Like a swarm of restless black beetles, they seemed somewhat bewildered in the gradually spreading fog, yet they did not stop throwing fire spells, igniting everything flammable in their path.

Lynch's gaze pierced through the mist, coldly locking onto them.

His mind raced: "Dumbledore, or someone else who's really looking for this, will definitely review every detail afterward. Dumbledore will expect me to be able to control any threat in this area as quickly and thoroughly as possible, preventing panic and the fire from spreading. So, I must do everything in my power!"

He first raised his left hand, pointing his five fingers towards the group of Death Eaters below, and gently clenched his fist.

[Step 1: Deprive the victim of hearing.]

The leader of the Death Eater squad, a tall wizard wearing a fanged mask, impatiently waved his wand, setting another tent ablaze, muttering under his breath: "This fog must have been released by the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic—hey, you all better stay close!"

"Don't get lost! We'll go meet Mr. Nott and the others later—" His voice trailed off.

No, it wasn't that his voice stopped, but rather that all the "external" sounds—his companions' footsteps, their heavy breathing—[were gone].

The crackling of the flames and the faint commotion in the distance vanished in an instant.

He could still feel the vibration in his throat and hear the roar of his blood rushing through his ears—a sound amplified infinitely in the deathly silence. But he couldn't hear a single word he uttered, nor could he hear any response from his companions.

It was like being put into a soundproof, thick glass dome.

The world fell into an absolute, deathly vacuum.

He turned his head in horror and saw his companion beside him also shouting, his eyes wide open under the mask, his lips moving but no sound coming out.

What chilled him even more was that he noticed the fire spell that burst from the tip of his companion's wand was now burning and spreading silently, as if in a pantomime.

The surrounding fog thickened, no longer grayish-white, but a deep gray that swallowed all light, quickly separating them. The figures of companions who were once so close became blurred outlines a few steps away, and further still, they vanished completely behind the swirling walls of fog. The ground beneath their feet seemed soft and unreal, and their sense of direction was utterly lost. Silent flames flickered on the tents, appearing eerie and illusory.

They were isolated.

Everyone is trapped on an isolated island consisting of only themselves, deathly silence, and an impenetrable fog.

The world was stripped away, leaving only an endless, suffocating haze and silence.

The leader of the fanged mask, suppressing his heart pounding, tried to find his way back to the direction of his companions from his memories.

He reached his hand into the thick fog, but couldn't touch anything.

He concentrated and loudly chanted the spell "Shatter to pieces!" He could feel the wand vibrate and see the light bursting from its tip, but when the spell struck a distant rock, the expected loud noise did not come; instead, the rock silently shattered into dust.

This complete separation of sight and hearing brings a deeper sense of disorientation and fear.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a companion's silhouette in the fog to his right. The silhouette suddenly stiffened, as if something invisible had gripped its throat. Then, the silhouette went limp and was quickly swallowed by the fog, leaving no trace. There was no sound, no light—or perhaps there was, but it was "absorbed" or distorted in the thick fog and deathly silence—without warning, a person was simply "gone."

A few seconds later, the same "disappearance" occurred on the left.

Another companion, in the deathly silence and thick fog, fell and was swallowed up without any resistance.

An unknown attack... an unknown enemy...

No—that's not right!

This absolute silence, this all-consuming fog, the silent evaporation of companions—this feeling—this heart-grabbing, chilling fear—reminded him of ancient, chilling tales circulating in dark corners of the world, stories of terrifying beings that appear and disappear silently in the fog, strangling their targets.

There's a name, a name that, just mentioning it, is enough to send chills down the spines of those in the know—

The Mist Executioner!

Could it be that the legend has returned?

Could it be that—they didn't encounter an ordinary Auror or wizard tonight, but something that only exists in nightmares and vague records?!

The remaining two or three Death Eaters collapsed.

They tried to resist, shouting incantations, but all their attacks were met with this eerie silence: the blasting spell silently shattered the earth, and the red light of the stun spell silently disappeared into the thick fog.

They cannot hear themselves or their companions casting spells, nor can they hear any feedback on whether the spells are effective or ineffective. This complete "deafness" renders their teamwork and combat instincts completely ineffective.

They began frantically and futilely casting spells into the surrounding fog; green and red lights flickered briefly in the thick fog before vanishing, like pebbles thrown into an abyss.

They staggered and ran, only to go around in circles, or bump into their leader, who was also on the verge of collapse. He leaned against a tree that was faintly visible in the mist, his wand trembling as he pointed ahead, futilely trying to sense any threat.

Just then, the fog in front of him stirred slightly, and a blurry, tall figure, slightly darker than the surrounding fog, silently appeared less than ten feet away from him.

It had no face, no features, only a deep, human-shaped mist.

The figure raised its "hand".

The leader was terrified. With all his strength and will, he unleashed the fastest and most deadly curse of his life. The dazzling green light tore through the mist and shot straight at the figure!

The green light pierced through the figure, struck the fog wall behind, and vanished without a trace.

The figure didn't even flinch, as if it were just a phantom.

But the next second, the real attack came from below the leader from a completely unexpected angle. Several cold, icy hands, formed from condensed mist, suddenly emerged from the ground, grabbing his ankles and calves tightly, and the immense force pulled him violently to the ground.

He struggled, but could not hear his own cry of alarm. The wand flew out of his hand and disappeared into the mist.

He watched as the blurry silhouette in the mist slowly and silently "walked" toward him, each step feeling like it was treading on his heart.

Extreme fear overwhelmed the last thought of resistance. He lost the ability to think, leaving only the most primal urge to escape. He crawled backward on all fours on the cold, damp ground until the back of his head slammed heavily against a tree trunk, and everything went black.

In the last moments before losing consciousness, he seemed to "hear" a cold, calm voice that resonated directly in his mind, not through his ears, but imprinted on his consciousness: "Sleep. Continue your nightmares in Azkaban."

Then came endless darkness.

Lynch slowly landed amidst the Death Eaters lying haphazardly. Cold mist swirled and settled at his feet, like tamed shadows. He didn't look down at the unconscious faces, but calmly waved his left hand.

An invisible force dragged the seven unconscious bodies from the damp ground, gathering them together like a pile of lifeless puppets. Then, he pressed down with his right hand, his five fingers tracing complex and swift paths, while he uttered low, precise, short syllables.

Magic surged forth like fine threads, entangling the black figures.

Transformation wasn't his specialty, but the magic of temporarily changing the appearance of a stationary object to deceive the eye was not difficult for him.

The dark wizard's robes twisted, stretched, and intertwined under the influence of magic, rapidly merging with the withered grass and soil on the ground, their colors and textures changing in a flash. Within two or three seconds, a group of unconscious Death Eaters vanished, replaced by a cluster of maidenhair ferns and thorny bushes that appeared exceptionally lush and dense in the thick fog, almost indistinguishable from the real thing, even carrying the scent of damp dew that had condensed at night.

Having done all this, Lynch silently rose into the air once more, merging back into the thick fog driven by his will, like a drop of water returning to the sea. He expanded his senses, maintaining the stability and flow of the fog over a large area, continuing to block vision, creating conditions for the evacuation of other areas of the camp and the operations of the First Order members.

However, just as he was trying to spread the fog more evenly over the chaotic camp, a sudden, violent surge of magical energy erupted from the west-central part of the camp!

Ugh—!

It wasn't the sound of natural wind, but a violent cyclone driven by magic, carrying a sense of tearing and purification.

In his "eyes," the fog in that area appeared as if it were being violently torn apart and stirred by an invisible giant hand, then forcibly blown away and purified! A clearly visible "hole" with a diameter of over fifty feet appeared on the thick fog cover. The fog at the edge was still churning, but it was difficult to penetrate the area that had been cleared away by powerful magic again.

Lin Qi's gaze instantly locked onto that empty space, his cold pupils slightly contracting.

"A powerful hurricane spell—or a similar modified spell. The caster possesses profound magical power and has a clear objective: to dispel my fog. Without a wand—the breadth of magical output and precise control is ultimately limited. One can only prioritize ensuring the density in the main area, while the edges and secondary nodes are easily targeted and breached."

This realization made his assessment more level-headed, but that was all.

The dense fog was partially dissipated, unexpectedly but still within a controllable range. He prepared to mobilize more magic, diverting it from other areas to fill the void again, or at least disrupt the visibility in that area.

However, time seemed to freeze for a moment when he pierced through the thin remaining fog and looked at the open space in the center of the camp that had been forcibly cleared.

The next second, an almost tangible, chilling killing intent, like lava suddenly erupting from a dormant volcano, exploded from Lin Qi's body!

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