Alex’s accusation hung heavy in the air, and the sequences were clear: Yaxley’s group had gathered illegally, with the io murder Muggles. The sdal would be front-page news in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet. They wouldn’t just write about Yaxley; they’d name everyone involved.

  Panic seeped into the faces of the other wizards. Yaxley had promised them privilege and power, but this? This was beyond what they’d signed up for. It was ohing to bully Muggles and half-bloods—harmless cruelty, they thought—but ht murder? Not a single one of them dared to stand by him now.

  Yaxley, however, wasn’t ready to back down. His face ale, his eyes darting desperately around the room, searg for support. But the squatting wizards kept their heads down, pretending not to notice his silent pleas.

  For a moment, he stood aloubborn and defiant, gring at Alex. But Alex simply chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a curious on—a metal four-fingered knuckle duster. “Oh, it seems your ce is as empty as your promises,” Alex said, his tone icy but ced with amusement.

  He held up the knuckle duster for all to see. "Meet my friend, ‘Mercy.’ Made of Ulim Steel, ented with a ‘pain intensification’ rune, and inscribed with a 'healing as new' charm on both sides. Don’t worry—no matter how badly it hurts, it’ll leave no perma injuries. You could take punches from this for a year and still look as good as new."

  Without warning, Alex slipped the knuckles onto his right hand and punched Yaxley square in the face. The blow sent him flying over two meters, crashing onto the dusty wooden floor.

  “Now,” Alex said, walking over to the fallen wizard and pressing a boot against his head. “Anything you’d like to say?”

  Yaxley spat at the ground, his voice venomous. “The glory of the pure-blood family isn’t something you tarnish!” He tried to push himself up, struggling under Alex’s boot.

  “Ah, I do admire a stubborn spirit,” Alex sneered, squatting down to grab Yaxley’s right hand. “Let’s see how long you keep that fire alive.”

  In one swift motion, Alex wrenched back Yaxley’s fingers and snapped one of the joints."AHHHH!" Yaxley’s scream pierced the air.

  Unmoved by the wail of agony, Alex tightened his grip, methodically breaking Yaxley’s fingers one by ohe crag sounds echoed in the room, making the other wizards flind shrink further into themselves. “Alex, you bastard!” Yaxley shouted, his voice raw. “Kill me now if you’ve got the guts! If you don’t, I’ll hunt you down and make yret it!”

  Alex smirked, his voice as calm as ever. “Kill you? Noould I do that? I wouldn’t want to hurt you too badly.”

  His knuckles gleamed uhe dim light as he raised his fist again. He brought it down hard, smming into Yaxley’s broken fingers, f them bato pce. The ented runes activated, amplifying the pain while simultaneously healing the wound.

  Yaxley’s screams grew hoarse, but Alex wasn’t done. “Oh, your chest seems to be ioo. Let me help with that.” He shifted his target, raining down blows on Yaxley’s torso like a relentless pile driver. Each strike sent shockwaves through the man’s body, the ‘healing as new’ charm ensuring the pain never dulled.

  The wizards who remained crouched could barely tain their fear. Yaxley’s screams had long siopped sounding human, more like the cries of a wounded animal. The sound echoed through the room, shaking their resolve to its core. Minutes passed before Alex finally stood, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He looked down at Yaxley, who now y in a heap, twitg and drenched i. His once defiant gre was repced by hollow, unfocused eyes.

  Alex crouched dow time, speaking softly, almost kindly. “So, do you agree to my suggestion? Or do you need another round to think it over?”

  “NO! Yes! I promise! I promise! Please, stop! Stop hitting me!” Yaxley begged hoarsely, tears streaming down his pale, swollen face. His voice cracked uhe weight of desperation. At this moment, his only thought was to escape—escape this nightmare and the devil standing over him.

  Alex nodded in satisfa, brushing some imaginary dust off his knuckle duster. “Good,” he said with a kind smile that sent shivers through the room. Then his gaze shifted to the rest of the squatting crowd. His smile widened as he addressed them. “Now, it’s your turn. Just now, you all suffered quite a few injuries. I think it’s only fair that I heal you—personally.”

  The room froze. Each wizard tensed as Alex’s gaze swept over them. When his eyes nded on Amelia Osbert, she flinched as if struck. “Let’s start with you, Amelia,” Alex said, his tone light but ced with malice.

  “No!” Amelia screamed, her panic overriding all reason. She jumped to her feet and bolted for the door. Her mind was ed by ohought: escape. But she didn’t get far. Invisible magic ed around her legs, tripping her mid-stride. She hit the floor hard, the impaog the air from her lungs. Before she could scramble back to her feet, the same force dragged her back across the floor like a ragdoll until she was lying at Alex’s feet.

  Alex crouched down, his faches from hers. Her wide, tear-filled eyes reflected nothing but terrently, he brushed some hair from her bruised face. “Look at you,” he murmured. “You’ve been through so much. That punch I give you earlier? It’s left your face all swolle me fix that.”

  Before Amelia could react, Alex delivered a sharp uppercut to her jaw. “AHHH!” The scream tore from her throat as blinding pain shot through her skull. Tears poured down her cheeks as she clutched her face.

  “Don’t ow,” Alex chided, his voice mogly sympathetic. “You were so brave before. I heard you spped Vivian. e on, keep fighting!” He gave her a cruel smile before nding another round of uppercuts.

  “Hmm… your mouth looks a little cut,” he mused, tilting her . “Better treat that with another punch. And your —it’s looking purple. Two punches should do the trick.”

  The others watched in horror, their hearts pounding as Alex methodically beat Amelia. Her once swollen, blotchy face was eventually “healed,” leaving her battered but without a single blemish. The magi Alex’s knuckles ensured every injury was erased, but the pain remaienfold. When Amelia finally slumped to the floor, too weak to cry, Alex straightened up, crag his knuckles with an uling grin. “Now, who’s ?” he asked, sing the crowd. His tone was light, almost cheerful, but no one missed the menace behind it.

  The squatting wizards trembled, sweat dripping down their faces as they tried not to meet his gaze. But Alex wasn’t about to let anyone off the hook. “I ’t let you all leave with injuries like this,” he said. “It would ruin my reputation if rumors spread.”

  What followed was chaos. Wizards screamed and cried as Alex methodically “healed” eae, dragging bayone who tried to flee and punishing them with extra puhe ented knuckles ensured no visible injuries were left behind, but the pain was unfettable. Eventually, fear forced the others to stop resisting. They bit their lips, ehe beating, and prayed it would end quickly.

  When Alex was finally dohe room was filled with battered, trembling wizards sprawled across the floor. Alex wiped his brow, looking as calm as if he’d just finished a workout. “Healing’s all done,” he said with a satisfied smile. “Now it’s time for some Q&A. Going forward, you all get a vote. Who’s in favor, and who’s against?”