What are a person's weak points?
Some people would say the heart. Others would say the brain. A serious injury to either will indeed kill you.
And the body seems to agree, which is why both are so well protected. The heart is shielded by ribs and muscle, while the brain sits inside a tough skull, cushioned by cerebrospinal fluid.
In other words, they're among the safest places in the body.
But there's another place that's just as vital, and yet it's guarded by nothing more than a thin layer of skin.
The carotid artery.
If it's cut, the bleeding is catastrophic. Within moments, the brain starts starving for blood. If the wound is small and someone nearby can treat it quickly, there's still a chance.
But if no one intervenes in time, the lack of blood to the brain is enough to kill. Even if the body is technically still alive, brain death means the person is truly gone.
And if there's no treatment within twenty minutes, the body follows soon after.
An ordinary person might panic and fail to stop that kind of bleeding. For a wizard, though, an external wound like this would normally be nothing. A bit of Essence of Dittany would close it in an instant.
The problem is that a severed carotid steals your ability to save yourself in seconds.
With no one to help him, Daniel could only die.
Leonard, still under the Disillusionment Charm, walked past Daniel without a glance.
Two left. Keep one alive. Kill one.
...
Moen and Rayel were fast—far too fast. Their leg muscles were unnaturally powerful, their sprint through the trees more like a cheetah's lope than a human run, and they quickly gained on Fleur and Gabrielle.
The moment Moen spotted them ahead, he nodded to Rayel.
Rayel sprang up, vaulting over Fleur and Gabrielle's heads, and landed directly in front of them.
Fleur, running on pure adrenaline, yanked her sister back to stop. Her footing slipped, her ankle twisted, and she dropped hard to the ground.
Pain shot through her ankle so sharply she couldn't even stand.
Gabrielle clutched her sister, her small face drained of color.
Moen halted behind them. He glanced at Fleur on the ground, then looked to Rayel.
"Mission accomplished. Take them. We're leaving."
Rayel nodded, strode forward, grabbed Fleur by the arm, and hauled her up, slinging her over his shoulder.
Moen snatched at Gabrielle as she tried to bolt, pinning her tight under his arm.
"Where's Daniel?" Rayel asked as they prepared to Apparate away.
Moen frowned, looking back. "No idea. He should've been here by—"
Pfft.
A soft, wet sound.
Moen froze and turned.
Rayel was staring down in disbelief, a gray stone spike jutting straight out of his chest from the heart.
In an instant, Rayel seemed to lose all strength. Fleur slid off his shoulder and hit the ground, while Rayel himself didn't even fall—he was held upright by the spike that had impaled him.
A Transfiguration Spell double kill.
"Rayel…?" Moen's voice came out thin, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He started forward—
Then his face changed, and he sprang back.
The stone spike in Rayel's chest moved.
No, not moved. It grew, like a living thing, extending in a straight thrust toward Moen's own chest.
Only because Moen had been watching Rayel and that spike so closely did he manage to avoid it. A heartbeat later and he would have ended up the same way.
As he stumbled back, something else caught his eye—an unnatural patch of air, a slight bend in the light, as though a sheet of glass stood there.
Disillusionment Charm. Someone was hiding nearby.
Moen barely had time to react before he heard the pop of a cork being pulled.
A strange scent washed over him.
And then his mind went blank.
He collapsed.
Gabrielle almost got crushed under Moen's falling weight, but Leonard was faster, yanking her free before she could be pinned.
Watching the last black-robed wizard drop unconscious, Leonard slipped the glass vial back into his robe.
Inside was the leftover toxin from bitterthorn—something he'd spent more than half a year refining and strengthening. Its anesthetic effect was brutally strong and nearly instantaneous.
Even a trace of the smell had been enough to make Hagrid, a half-giant, feel drowsy. Knocking out an ordinary wizard was effortless.
Still, Leonard didn't relax. Something about this wizard told him he wasn't ordinary.
He took Gabrielle by the hand and led her to Fleur. When he let go, Gabrielle immediately threw herself onto Fleur, clinging to her.
Leonard held out his hand.
"Let me use your wand."
"Huh?" Fleur stared at him, dazed. The boy in front of her looked even younger than she was.
The way he said it—so blunt and matter-of-fact—made it feel as if he were trading a child for a wand. Fleur just blinked at him, stunned.
Despite herself, she studied him.
He was… decent-looking, nothing striking. His clothes were casual, local, the sort of thing you'd see on any countryside boy.
But his pale gray eyes were calm in a way that felt unnerving, like a deep pool that didn't ripple no matter what you threw into it.
Fleur could see her own vivid, alluring face reflected in his gaze—yet there wasn't the slightest flicker of emotion.
"Did you hit your head?" Leonard snapped. "I said give me your wand."
These wizards were not normal.
Leonard had seen how fast they ran through the forest. No ordinary person could move like that. And Rayel's leap to cut them off—
That midair twist and landing was something even a professional athlete couldn't pull off.
Wizards were only humans with magic. They weren't supposed to be superhuman. So where did that kind of leg strength come from?
"Oh… sorry." Fleur finally snapped out of it. Hearing the impatience in his voice, she hurriedly pulled out her wand and handed it over.
Then she remembered something and quickly added, "My wand is very difficult to use."
Fleur had a quarter Veela bloodline. Her father was half Veela, which meant her grandmother had been a Veela.
And Fleur's wand had been made with her grandmother's hair as its core. A wand with such severe limitations was almost impossible for anyone but Fleur herself to wield.
She didn't know what this boy wanted it for, but she still warned him. Better that than have the wand backfire and hurt him.
"Your accent doesn't sound British," Leonard said, ignoring her warning entirely, as if he were making idle conversation.
"Uh… yes. I'm French. I'm here with my parents and my sister… on holiday." Fleur spoke while trying to soothe Gabrielle.
"Oh," Leonard said. "Then I hope you enjoy your holiday."
Wand in hand, he turned and walked toward the unconscious Moen.