Chapter 103: Cabal Remnants’ Gathering
Under Gellért Hill, Joseph Bridge.
This is a steel truss bridge spanning the Danube River, one thousand feet long, also known as the Bridge of Freedom or Liberation Bridge. It was originally built for the World’s Fair, later occupied and destroyed by the German army, and rebuilt after the war and renamed Liberation Bridge. At the top of the bridge tower stands a statue of the Turul Bird from ancient Hungarian mythology.
At night, a thin mist rises from the Danube River, and from afar, the view is somewhat hazy.
Two elderly figures, each holding a wand, slowly walked along the street. As they walked, they waved their wands, their figures flickering and shifting in the mist, the humming sound in the air kept very low.
The two stopped in front of a base, glanced at the electric light hanging above, tapped the lampshade with their wands, then walked straight toward the steel base. The moment their bodies touched the wall, the hard steel rippled in circles.
The lights flickered, and the two figures quietly disappeared.
Melvin leisurely approached, still wearing his pajamas from the hotel, looking somewhat casual. He had watched clearly just now: first circling the base once, then imitating the technique of the two old wizards to tap the lampshade.
The lights seemed to flicker twice, the light and shadow swaying a bit.
The metal wall painted green remained the same, but a wizard with keen perception could detect the subtle change: the base under the streetlights had become a secret passage, like the ticket gate at platform 9.
Melvin reached his hand into the wall, feeling cool and silky, as if a breeze passed over.
This secret space had not appeared in any materials he had seen, clearly not a legitimate place. Whether it was a more secretive black market or a venue for private gatherings of some wizards, barging in rashly seemed impolite and not very safe.
“I’m already here…”
Melvin put aside his hesitation, took a breath, and slipped into the secret passage.
Passing through the green-painted steel wall, it was even darker and damper inside, the air filled with faint moisture and the smell of cement from long-term lack of ventilation, like some air-raid shelter or abandoned subway passage.
There were faint rustling footsteps and whispers ahead.
Melvin did not hurry to follow, but turned to look back. Behind was a stone wall also embedded with lights, the outer glass covers looking somewhat cloudy, the brass base unpolished for a long time, stained with a layer of black ash, symbols outlined in rough lines faintly visible.
“Triangle, circle, vertical line…”
Melvin narrowed his eyes and murmured softly, confirming it was the mark of the Deathly Hallows: “I really stumbled into Cabal territory.”
Before continuing forward guided by the kerosene lamp, Melvin first tapped his pajamas with his wand. Under the effect of Transfiguration, the clothes turned into an inconspicuous black ash color, the hem lengthened to cover the lower body, the collar extended and closed into a hood, covering half his face, revealing only a pair of pitch-black eyes, and even the slippers under his feet became short boots.
Standard dark wizard attire.
Although there was a Disillusionment Charm, it was still safer to cover up. Pulling the hood over his head, Melvin lightened his footsteps and followed. From now on, he was a ghost in the passage. If discovered, he would be one of the Cabal Remnants.
“…”
Pressing close to the wall, he could hear faint water flow. This place should be near the Danube River bank.
The passage was deep and long, with some abandoned circular junctions covered in moss and dust. At a few spots where the surface had cracked, judging by the gaps, the main structure of the passage was reinforced concrete, ruling out the possibility of it being built by wizards.
Melvin guessed it might be an underground passage left from the war period, which could also serve as a bunker, long abandoned, and finally repurposed by the Cabal Remnants.
Walking deeper into the passage, keeping a neither too close nor too far distance behind the faint footsteps and voices ahead, Melvin followed for about twenty minutes before suddenly stopping.
By now the passage had reached its end, with only a gap blocked by a giant stone left ahead. At the top stood a Turul Bird statue, similar to Godric Gryffindor’s portrait hole. The two old wizards exchanged the password and slipped into the gap, and the giant stone closed again.
Through the blocking giant stone, Melvin could faintly sense more than a dozen different magic power fluctuations inside. It seemed tonight was indeed a gathering.
“I’m already here…”
Melvin silently dispelled the Disillusionment Charm, conjured iron armor on himself, confirmed the hood covered half his face, then said that phrase to the Turul Bird statue: “For the greater good.”
The giant stone rumbled open, revealing the scene inside.
A dimly lit circular hall, layout similar to the tribunal, with a sunken terrain higher on the outside and lower in the center, steps around leading to the circular platform in the middle.
More than a dozen wizards were distributed on the surrounding steps, dressed similarly to Melvin, all cloaks and hoods covering them tightly. Only two wizards were very open: one was the hotel owner Abo, standing in the front row, and the other was that elegant yet irritable old witch, standing in the center of the platform.
It seemed she was the leader of this gathering.
Last night he had heard old Abo call her name, something like Vida…
All the wizards’ gazes gathered on him. Melvin’s expression calm, he nodded slightly to them, stepped to a spot on the steps and stood, his posture extremely composed.
“I didn’t expect there would still be old friends willing to respond to my invitation. I thought the others were all dead!” The white-haired old witch spoke, her words barbed with sarcasm.
But Melvin was secretly delighted inside: his identity hadn’t been exposed. This nearly disbanded remnant was indeed not a proper organization—no lists or credentials for secret gatherings—and it sounded like there were internal conflicts.
Melvin frowned showing some displeasure, lowered his voice, and squeezed out a muffled sound: “Vida…”
He trailed off, his tone complex.
Just calling the name had a big effect, immediately dispelling the few suspicions among the wizards.
In the few seconds after his voice fell, the surrounding figures shifted their gazes away, and even the atmosphere in the venue seemed to ease a lot. This subtle change in the secretive atmosphere declared that Melvin had officially become a member of the Cabal Remnants, a core member who had endured the catastrophe fifty years ago and held on until now.
Even though they still didn’t know this old comrade’s name.
Melvin suppressed his smile, maintaining the character setting of someone expressionless but unwilling to reveal his identity. He nodded slightly to the surrounding wizards, exchanging one or two glances whose meanings he himself didn’t understand, the scene very harmonious.
“Let’s continue with the main business!”
The old witch named Vida coldly scanned the room, full of authority: “A serious dragon egg theft case has occurred in Romania. Wizards from nearby countries have all been called in to investigate, leaving the Austrian Ministry of Magic’s forces depleted and Nurmengard’s defenses lax. We can take this opportunity to rescue him.”
The information revealed in her words was very interesting.
The dragon egg theft case seemed unrelated to this group of Cabal Remnants, but they planned to take advantage to rescue Grindelwald. The plan was fairly complete, with high feasibility, and the old witch seemed to have made ample preparations for it.
Or rather, she had been preparing for many years and finally awaited a suitable opportunity.
