Chapter 69: When All Roads Lead to Ruin
"Aaaah—!"
The Killing Curse never left Corvey's lips.
Instead, it twisted into a scream of pure agony.
He looked down and saw a grotesque plant—shaped like a thorny rose—clamped onto his thigh, its jagged maw gnawing eagerly at his flesh.
"Incendio!"
Clenching his teeth through the pain, he ignited it.
The creature writhed and shrieked within the flames, swaying madly until it finally collapsed into a heap of ash.
During those precious seconds, Russell had already rolled Yaxley's corpse aside and reclaimed his wand. There was no time to wipe away the blood staining it.
He raised it and fired immediately.
"Depulso!"
Corvey flicked his wand casually, dispersing the spell as if brushing away dust.
Finite Incantatem stood like an insurmountable mountain before someone like Russell, whose spell repertoire was still limited.
"How dare you use spells I taught you against me?" Corvey sighed.
"Fythorne… wouldn't it be better to die quietly? I truly didn't want to do this to you."
"Crucio."
His wrist snapped.
Russell never even had time to dodge.
The dark red beam slammed into his chest.
Agony exploded.
It felt as though a white-hot iron spike was being slowly pushed up his spine and into his skull. He heard a sharp cracking sound—only to realize later it was his own teeth grinding uncontrollably.
Invisible needles pierced every inch of his skin. Molten metal slithered beneath his fingernails. His heart hammered wildly, as if it might simply stop in the next instant.
His vision blurred.
In his haze, he saw his parents from another life—smiling, reaching out to him.
His body curled inward instinctively, as though shrinking could somehow dull the pain.
Corvey looked nothing like the man Russell once knew.
His face was twisted, ecstatic, savoring the sight of Russell writhing helplessly on the floor.
"Look at you now, Fythorne. How ugly."
He chuckled. "This is your fault. Why struggle at all? You're only earning yourself more suffering."
What Corvey didn't notice—
Was Russell's lips moving, repeating the same words over and over.
Even if he had noticed, he would have assumed it was a plea for mercy.
Had he leaned closer, he would have heard it clearly:
"Sanare Integrum"
Nor did he see the faint green glow blossoming at the tip of Russell's wand, pressed beneath his body. The light flowed steadily into him, and with each pulse, the trembling of his limbs grew weaker.
Clarity crept back in.
The pain receded.
Russell remained still, feigning total collapse.
Corvey began to tire of this. A trace of pity surfaced—after all, they had spent nearly a year together. Some feelings could not be erased entirely.
"Farewell," he said quietly.
"My student… Russell Fythorne."
He raised his wand again, green light gathering—
—and suddenly, dizziness struck.
Nausea surged.
His vision split into overlapping shadows.
Poison.
But how? He had always been careful. He never touched food or water from others—
Then it hit him.
Ever since that strange plant bit his leg, the area had felt numb and prickly. He'd dismissed it as nothing more than an aftereffect.
Suppressing panic, he immediately cast Protego, sealing himself inside a shield. His legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees, fumbling through his pockets for antidotes.
The wand felt like an inconvenience now.
After all, in his mind, Russell could never break through Protego.
So Corvey calmly stowed it away—and began gulping down vials of antivenom one after another.
Farewell, Fasher the Second, Russell thought faintly.
Thank you for your service.
Earlier, while sorting through his dragon-hide pouch, he'd been troubled by the cyanide Wednesday had gifted him. He couldn't use it on others—and certainly wouldn't test it on himself.
Then he'd noticed the nearly mature Biting Rose nearby.
An idea had formed.
He fed them the cyanide as a "nutrient supplement."
Surprisingly—it worked.
The Biting Rose loved it.
Further experiments confirmed it: their bite had become poisonous.
Not pure cyanide—but a toxin transformed within the plant itself.
Russell hadn't tested it on humans.
He'd only asked Hagrid for a sheep.
The results had been… enlightening.
After the sheep was bitten, the poison didn't take effect immediately.
It kept hopping about as if nothing had happened.
But after a short while, it suddenly collapsed to the ground and stopped moving.
It wasn't dead—
it had simply been stripped of its ability to act.
That had been his experiment.
This, however, was the first time Russell had ever used it on a human.
Ever since obtaining healing magic from Morgan, Russell had practiced relentlessly. In this world, healing spells were far rarer than offensive ones—especially powerful, high-grade restoration magic.
Most healing spells could treat either physical injuries or mental trauma, but not both.
This spell was different.
It healed the body and soothed the mind.
Its only flaw was the immense strain it placed on the caster's stamina.
Russell forced himself upright, his body shaking, and staggered toward Corvey.
He didn't try to run.
Not because he didn't want to—but because he knew it was pointless.
With his current strength, escape was impossible. Even if he made it a short distance, Corvey would recover soon enough and either capture him again… or kill him on the spot.
If that was the case—
Then the only choice left was to gamble everything.
Russell reached into his dragon-hide pouch and withdrew two vials of blood-red potion.
"Cheers."
He grinned and swallowed both in one go.
The antidotes had apparently begun to take effect. Corvey was already able to stand again, most of the weakness fading from his limbs—though his thoughts remained sluggish, his mind fogged and unfocused.
In this state, the Killing Curse was impossible.
The curse required absolute clarity and concentrated murderous intent—emotional turmoil could not sustain it.
But that didn't matter.
He had plenty of other spells at his disposal.
Seeing Russell approaching, Corvey laughed.
"Fythorne… are you planning to ambush me with that Muggle weapon they call a bomb?"
He smirked. "You used it earlier, didn't you? That was how you broke Yaxley's Protego."
In truth, Corvey had arrived long before that.
Invisible, he had watched the entire duel between Russell and Yaxley unfold—
including the moment Russell hurled the explosive that shattered the supposedly impregnable shield.