Chapter 946: Chapter 946: Threatening Rosier
"Are you keeping your guard up against me?" Rosier asked, tilting her head slightly as she watched Kyle’s movements.
"Yeah," Kyle replied bluntly, without hesitation. "As a righteous wizard, is there something wrong with me being cautious around a Dark witch from decades ago?"
"I thought we worked quite well together this time."
"That was temporary—and it wasn’t really ’working together.’ At most, we just... had a common enemy," Kyle said. "Besides, have you forgotten? A few months ago, we were on opposite sides."
"But you’re still alive, aren’t you?"
"That’s only because I was careful. It had nothing to do with you."
As he spoke, Kyle kept his eyes locked on Rosier, watching her every move.
Fortunately, although Rosier did feel it was a pity, she didn’t seem too fixated on the alchemical item that could block the Killing Curse.
Part of it was because Kyle was clearly watching her, but also because, after thinking it over, she realized the artifact might not be as valuable as it seemed.
Sure, the ability to resist the Killing Curse sounded tempting—but in reality, Grindelwald wouldn’t have much use for it.
After all, his opponent was Dumbledore—a wizard who had almost never used the Killing Curse. In fact, Rosier had never seen Dumbledore cast it.
The same went for the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse.
Even during the fiercest years of the war seventy years ago, Dumbledore had never once used an Unforgivable Curse.
That, perhaps, was exactly why he was known as the greatest wizard.
It was true back then—and it certainly still held now...
So Rosier saw no point in risking herself to steal an artifact that wouldn’t benefit Grindelwald anyway.
Not to mention, she was still wary of the spells Kyle had used earlier.
With that in mind, Rosier began slowly backing away, subtly shifting her position.
"If you’re thinking of going to help Grindelwald," Kyle said suddenly, "you’d better drop that idea. Neither of them would welcome you... not one."
Rosier stopped and studied him carefully, narrowing her eyes. "Oh? And what exactly do you know?"
"I don’t know anything. Just talking." Kyle shrugged.
"Call it an excuse. I don’t want to help Professor Dumbledore, but I also don’t want you running off to help Grindelwald—so I figured I’d say something to stop you."
"And if I insisted?" Rosier kept her eyes on him. "Would you stop me?"
"No." Kyle answered instantly. He also glanced off to his left.
That part of the forest was still quiet—as if nothing had happened at all. Which was clearly suspicious.
Either they hadn’t made a move, or they’d gone elsewhere, or they’d used some kind of special magic.
Whatever the case, Kyle had no intention of getting involved.
"But," he added, "I also can’t just sit back and let you cause trouble for Professor Dumbledore."
"What’s that supposed to mean?" Rosier returned to the ground, watching him with interest.
"It means if you go help Grindelwald, then I’ll go pay a visit to the wounded wizards still hiding nearby," Kyle said calmly.
"When they were chasing me through the forest, they showed no mercy. I remember. And now that I’ve got some free time, I figure—why not pay them a little visit?
"I doubt Voldemort killed them all. Since you’re the only one here, I’m guessing the rest were injured and forced to retreat."
"If that’s the case, they can’t have gone far."
Rosier’s expression grew steadily colder.
Kyle was right. Those wizards had been injured—and they were hiding not too far from here.
Back when Kyle hadn’t yet arrived, they had underestimated Voldemort and overestimated their own strength. They’d been caught completely off guard by two sweeping area-of-effect spells.
Some were killed outright. Most of the rest suffered various degrees of injury and had no choice but to withdraw.
In their current condition, if Kyle really found them, there was no way they could hold their own.
"Does Dumbledore know what you’re doing?" Rosier asked coldly.
"Nope. He’s not here." Kyle shrugged. "And even if he did know—what could he do? Like I said, I respect Professor Dumbledore, but that doesn’t mean I follow his every word."
"But we just helped you kill Voldemort," Rosier said, her tone shifting slightly.
"If I remember right, he was the most dangerous Dark wizard in Britain. He destroyed countless wizarding families, left people too afraid to even speak his name."
"We helped you bring him down—at great cost—and now you’re threatening to kill us? Does that really seem fair?"
"You didn’t help us," Kyle corrected. "You helped Grindelwald. That’s not quite the same thing."
"Whatever the reason, we still contributed, didn’t we?" Rosier pushed back. "If you’d been alone—if we hadn’t risked our lives to drain Voldemort’s strength—do you really think it would’ve been that easy for you to kill him?"
Easy?
Kyle arched a brow.
He had to admit, the former Black Rose of France—once a dominant force in Europe—was no pushover.
And with that kind of speech, if someone who didn’t know the full story overheard, they might genuinely believe Kyle was turning on his allies.
But was that really the case?
...Not quite.
Before arriving here, Voldemort had already fought the Hogwarts side all night long. If anyone had worn him down, it wasn’t Rosier’s group.
Most of them had only lasted a few minutes before being knocked out. If anything, their biggest contribution was adding some flair to the scene.
And Kyle had even sacrificed the Basilisk.
What had Rosier done? Well—she had helped. But not by much.
"You’re right." Kyle suddenly let out a quiet laugh and said calmly, "No matter what your reason was for going after Voldemort, you still helped us in the end. As a British wizard, I really shouldn’t burn bridges like that."
"But I can’t just pretend nothing happened. That was the first time I’d ever been chased around like that—of course I have to get revenge..."
"So what are you going to do?" Rosier asked.
"Pick a middle ground. What do you think?" Kyle said with a smile. "You go help Grindelwald, and I’ll go settle the score—but I won’t kill them. Sound fair?"
"Good, you—" Rosier had just started to speak when she caught the look on Kyle’s face and abruptly closed her mouth.
She’d caught a flicker of mockery in Kyle’s eyes, and she could clearly sense that what he’d just said wasn’t at all what he really meant.
Not kill them... That was far too vague. In a way, it was meaningless—might as well have said nothing at all.
Rosier frowned slightly. The tactics she’d used before against Newt and Dumbledore suddenly seemed to have lost their effect.
Kyle, sitting across from her, didn’t look the least bit anxious.
If Rosier truly went off to help Grindelwald, he’d definitely go find someone else. But Kyle was a man of his word. If he said he wouldn’t kill them, then he wouldn’t.
Kyle ran his fingers over the suitcase. He could faintly feel a biting chill seeping into his hand.
After all, as long as the body was alive, it was still alive, wasn’t it? Missing a bit of soul at most—and he had professionals for that. Ones who were a hundred percent clean and efficient... or maybe just had a way with words.
But none of that really mattered. What mattered was that he really wouldn’t kill them.
The two of them stared at each other for a long time. Rosier had figured out what Kyle was thinking—everything except the Dementors.
Not that Kyle had tried to hide it. They were both being perfectly frank.
Rosier suddenly let out a short laugh, smoothed out her black robes—wrinkled from the earlier fight—then waved her hand and transformed a nearby tree branch into a vintage wide-brimmed hat, placing it on her head.
That gesture made it clear: she was no longer going to help Grindelwald.
More precisely, she’d already given up on that idea back when Kyle first warned her.
As one of Grindelwald’s closest followers, how could Rosier possibly be so oblivious?
Especially when she’d stayed loyal to Grindelwald even after his defeat.
She hadn’t been able to find Nurmengard’s location, so she’d waited in the forest—waited for Grindelwald to escape and lead them back into battle across Europe, and maybe the entire wizarding world.
But that wait had lasted seventy years.
And Nurmengard? That prison tower had been designed by Grindelwald himself. There was no way he hadn’t been able to escape for seventy years.
The only explanation was that he’d never intended to... because of Dumbledore.
And besides, the two of them hadn’t seen each other in ages.
Rosier knew Grindelwald well. She understood that right now, the only person he wanted to see was Dumbledore.
She glanced at Kyle again, then turned and walked off to the far side of the forest, disappearing quickly from sight.
Kyle figured she’d probably gone to check on the wounded from earlier, so he didn’t stop her.
As long as Rosier wasn’t going to help Grindelwald, he didn’t care. He had more important things to deal with anyway.
Kyle stepped over a cracked, ugly statue and hurried to the Basilisk, now drained of all color, turned to a lifeless gray.
He stood there, his heart aching so badly it felt like it might bleed.
It was a Basilisk... and not just any Basilisk, but the only one of its kind left in the entire wizarding world. Now it was dead. To say he wasn’t heartbroken would be a lie.
But there had been no other way. In that moment, killing Voldemort as quickly as possible had been the only option.
The second Kyle saw Voldemort summon those skeletons with a flick of his hand, he knew—Voldemort had mastered all sorts of dark magic, and trying to kill him through normal means was nearly impossible.
The fact that Lily Evans had managed to kill Voldemort over a decade ago was a miracle. Even Dumbledore hadn’t been able to do it—but she had. That’s why Harry’s title as the Chosen One carried so much weight.
But Kyle wasn’t Lily Evans. And he didn’t have her unique magic that could rebound the Killing Curse.
So after thinking it through, he realized the only way to defeat Voldemort was through a surprise attack.
But Voldemort wasn’t like those Hogwarts students with no real combat experience. Especially after suffering several setbacks, there was no way he’d ever let his guard down during a fight.
If he did get distracted, it would have to be over something that struck him deeply... like the fact that he, Voldemort—who prided himself on being Slytherin’s heir—had just killed the Basilisk, the very symbol of that inheritance.
So Kyle gritted his teeth and released the Basilisk, letting it shield him from the hundreds of Killing Curses flying his way.
Sure enough, Voldemort’s attention was drawn, and he was distracted—just for a moment. But that moment was all Kyle needed to strike the killing blow.
Honestly, luck played a role in it too. In that split second, Voldemort just happened not to see Kyle’s movements, and Kyle just happened to be standing near a small burst of Fiendfyre that he could use as a conduit.
If he had to do it all over again, Kyle couldn’t guarantee he’d succeed a second time. If the fight had dragged on any longer, Voldemort most likely would’ve chosen to flee again, find another hiding place, and bide his time.
Everything would’ve gone right back to how it was before.
Thinking about it that way, sacrificing the Basilisk to eliminate the threat of Voldemort didn’t seem like such a bad trade.
Well... maybe not for others. For Kyle, it was a devastating loss.
A Basilisk... He still couldn’t quite accept it. Who knew if he’d ever find another one?
With that in mind, Kyle let out a sigh, opened the suitcase, and carefully packed the Basilisk’s body inside.
Even though it had taken hundreds of spells, they were all Killing Curses—which left no physical damage—so the Basilisk’s body remained an incredibly rare and valuable specimen.
Oh, and there was one more thing. The most important part.
Kyle unclenched his tightly closed right hand. Between his fingers, a faint, dull orange glow flickered.
The Basilisk’s eyes—also a crucial tool in destroying Voldemort’s consciousness. In a way, they worked much like the Killing Curse, capable of acting directly upon the soul or mind—those intangible things.
He wasn’t familiar with the Killing Curse, but this was even better. It didn’t require an incantation, or a wand. When he needed it, he could just take it out and use it.
Fast, convenient, and effective... though with the small risk of taking himself down in the process.
After all, no one could completely control their line of sight. Not even Kyle. A gust of wind could shift his gaze unintentionally.
And if he happened to catch a glimpse of the Basilisk’s eyes—even just from the corner of his eye—he could still be affected.
That’s why Kyle had kept his eyes closed the entire time—during the fight and even now.
Tilting his head back, he turned a pile of fallen leaves into several thick, wide-mouthed black bottles, and carefully transferred the two intact Basilisk eyes into them.
The dark glass shielded them from view, and only then did Kyle let out a faint breath of relief.
Thankfully, the Basilisk’s eyes had been preserved. He could bring them to Nicolas Flamel later and see if there was a way to forge them into a weapon.
Or maybe they could serve as wand accessories—discreet, decorative, and functional. Mounted on his wand, they’d not only be difficult to detect, but would also compensate for his lack of skill with the Killing Curse. All gain, no loss.
Now that he thought about it, it was truly remarkable. The Basilisk was completely, undeniably dead—yet its eyes remained intact. Not only untouched, but still carrying their cursed power even after being severed from its head.
Kyle didn’t know how long that power would last, but it was already beyond extraordinary.
It was as if the eyes had never really been part of the Basilisk’s body at all, but rather separate weapons—like a blade or a wand—something you could just pick up and use.
Unnatural, and yet... somehow fitting.
Anyone who’d seen Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them knew that Basilisks were artificially created. A dark creature engineered for war. Every part of its body was crafted for that purpose—including, of course, those cursed eyes.