Lynn looked at Amelia, then at Dumbledore.
Amelia lay in a pool of blood, her face deathly pale and her breathing faint.
Lynn could not understand why Dumbledore had ordered Fawkes to bring him here.
Amelia's injuries were fatal—the kind even the finest Healer might not be able to treat.
By any conventional logic, calling Lynn here should have been useless.
"The situation is urgent. I cannot spare any more time here."
Dumbledore spoke twice as quickly as usual.
"Take care of Director Bones."
The moment he finished speaking, Dumbledore vanished alongside several Ministry employees.
A burst of golden-red flames enveloped his body before exploding outward. When the fire disappeared, so had he.
The same flames swept over the others, carrying them away one after another.
When the final flicker faded...
Only Lynn and Fawkes remained in the room.
Fawkes, however, had been reduced to a naked fledgling.
All his feathers had fallen out during the long-distance teleportation. Red plumage and the ashes of his rebirth now lay scattered throughout the pool of blood surrounding Amelia.
Fawkes huddled on the floor, his tiny body trembling.
He looked far smaller than usual, like a chick that had only just hatched—bald, ugly, and pitiful.
His eyes remained closed, while his open beak released faint squeaks resembling the cries of a mouse.
Lynn stared down at him in silence for a second.
Then he bent over, extended two fingers, and carefully pinched Fawkes off the floor.
The fledgling's body was extraordinarily light, almost like a feather carried by the wind.
Fawkes struggled weakly when Lynn picked him up, then quickly became still.
He probably understood that resistance was futile.
"Wait... wait..."
A faint voice emerged from the pool of blood.
It was so quiet that Lynn would never have heard it had the room not been silent apart from Fawkes's tiny cries.
The sound squeezed from Amelia's throat, hoarse and intermittent, like a scrapped engine completing its final revolution.
Amelia struggled to open her eyes.
That single action appeared to exhaust what little strength she had left.
"Death Eaters... attacked..."
Her words were broken by long pauses as she desperately gathered enough breath to continue.
"Ministry... Aurors... Records Room... don't... go alone..."
After forcing out the final word, Amelia's head fell to one side.
She lost consciousness again.
Lynn looked at her and clicked his tongue.
No wonder she had risen to the position of Director.
That attitude. That dedication. That vision.
Even while hovering on the edge of death, she still forced herself awake to continue working.
Lynn could not help feeling inferior by comparison.
If he ever suffered such a severe injury...
No.
He would never suffer such a severe injury.
Regardless, he certainly would not think to warn someone that the Ministry's Records Room was under attack and that no one should approach it alone.
But why would the Death Eaters attack the Records Room?
What was stored there?
Nothing but files.
The Ministry's archives contained every decree issued by every Minister for Magic, the verdicts from every Wizengamot session, the registration records of countless magical items, and breeding records for every known magical creature.
Those documents were useless to ordinary people.
They should have been equally useless to the Death Eaters.
Why would Voldemort want them?
Did he intend to investigate household registrations?
Or did he want to check whether the violations he committed during childhood had been permanently archived?
Lynn could not understand it.
He shook his head and temporarily set the question aside.
Then he raised his wand and pointed it toward Amelia.
"Blessing of Dittany. Silver Radiance Flow."
A gentle light carrying the breath of life emerged from the tip of his wand.
It poured into Amelia's limbs and bones, splitting into countless tiny serpents of light that travelled beneath her skin.
Wherever the luminous serpents passed, the black markings left by the curse slowly faded.
Deep black became grey.
Grey became pale.
Finally, the markings became almost invisible.
Amelia's tightly furrowed brow gradually relaxed.
Her breathing remained faint, but it was far steadier than before.
Lynn flicked his wand again.
"Freezing Frost."
The white radiance instantly turned blue.
It enveloped Amelia's body, and the temperature throughout the room plummeted.
The moisture in the air condensed into countless tiny ice crystals. Under the candlelight, they glittered like a cloud of miniature diamonds.
A thin layer of white frost spread across Amelia's robes, hair, and eyelashes.
Her breathing grew even weaker.
Her body entered a state resembling hibernation. Her metabolism dropped to its lowest possible level, and every biological process slowed almost to a halt.
Even the toxins spreading through her body were frozen in place.
A thick shell of ice formed visibly around Amelia.
It began at her chest and spread outward, covering her abdomen, arms, legs, neck, and face.
Finally, her entire body was sealed within a block of transparent ice.
The barrier was at least ten centimetres thick and emitted a faint blue glow beneath the candlelight.
Through the ice, Lynn could see Amelia's face, pale enough to have lost every trace of colour.
He reached out and tapped the frozen surface.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound was dull and heavy.
Lynn nodded in satisfaction.
The ice was extremely solid, ensuring that Amelia would not be going anywhere.
Forget escaping on her own—even if someone wanted to free her, breaking through the ice would require considerable effort.
This was no ordinary ice.
Lynn could guarantee that even Fiendfyre would struggle to melt it.
He crouched and gathered the feathers scattered around Amelia.
Every one of them was a treasure.
They could not be allowed to go to waste.
Lynn stood, then casually stuffed the fledgling Fawkes deep into his pocket to ensure he would not fall out.
After flexing his fingers and drawing several deep breaths, Lynn pushed off the ground.
His figure instantly vanished from the room.
...
Level One.
Level Two.
Level Three...
Lynn stood inside the lift, one hand gripping the metal grille while the other remained inside his pocket, his fingers gently stroking Fawkes's bald back.
Ding!
The lift reached Level Nine.
The grille slid open, and Lynn stepped out.
Without saying a word, he raced toward the passage leading down to Level Ten.
He moved extraordinarily fast.
Although he had never personally visited the Ministry's Records Room, Edgar had mentioned its location before.
"The Records Room is on Level Ten, beside the Wizengamot courtrooms. That place is gloomy as hell—creepier than the Hogwarts dungeons.
"I passed it the last time I went looking for my father and glanced inside. Merlin, those shelves are so tall that you can't even see their tops!
"All the files are covered in layers of dust. I doubt anyone has touched some of them in decades. If those archives ever burned down, the Ministry would probably need ten years to recover."
At the time, Lynn had merely smiled and asked, "Is there anything valuable inside?"
Edgar had thought for a moment.
"Valuable? Probably not. There are plenty of interesting things, though.
"For example, classified files the Ministry has 'permanently sealed,' trial records the Wizengamot has 'forbidden from public disclosure,' and diplomatic documents the International Confederation of Wizards has 'stamped and sealed.'
"If you're interested, you could always go and take a look."
Lynn had arrived.
Level Ten.
The entrance to the Wizengamot courtroom was closed. A large lock hung from the door, its surface covered by a thick layer of dust.
The door to the Records Room stood slightly ajar.
A thin sliver of light escaped through the opening.
The moment Lynn pushed the door open, torches of Gubraithian Fire illuminated the previously dark chamber.
They did not hang from the walls.
Instead, they had been embedded directly into the stone at intervals of several metres.
Their flames burned blue-white and produced no heat, yet the light they emitted was remarkably bright.
The torches ignited one after another, beginning beside the entrance and extending into the depths of the chamber like a burning fuse.
Lynn was immediately stunned by the sheer scale of the Records Room.
It was many times larger than the Ministry hall where the prophecy orbs were stored.
The Hall of Prophecy was already spacious enough to contain an entire Quidditch match.
This place was several times larger.
Towering bookshelves stood everywhere.
Each one rose dozens of feet, stretching from the floor to the ceiling.
The shelves were forged from iron and painted dark green. Beneath the blue-white flames, their surfaces reflected a cold metallic gleam.
Every shelf had been neatly filled with archive boxes.
Dark brown.
Pale grey.
Off-white.
They had all been arranged according to some complicated numbering system Lynn did not understand.
Some boxes bore red labels, others yellow, and still others green.
The red labels read:
TOP SECRET.
The yellow labels read:
CONFIDENTIAL.
The green labels read:
INTERNAL USE.
Just as Lynn was absorbing the immense scale of the Records Room, a furious roar erupted from somewhere deep within the chamber.
The sound was so powerful that dust cascaded from the bookshelves.
It came from far away, piercing row after row of towering shelves before exploding in Lynn's ears with long-suppressed rage.
Lynn narrowed his eyes.
He recognized the owner of that voice.
Bang—!
A sonic boom erupted at the Records Room's entrance.
Lynn vanished once again.
He moved so quickly that the newly ignited Gubraithian Fire had not yet cast its light across the spot where he had been standing before he disappeared.
All that remained was a circular shock wave slowly expanding through the air—
And a row of bookshelves swaying gently in his wake.
---
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