You'll be Expelled!

Rozier had been playing dead from the moment the fog appeared, but he'd kept an ear on the action. Watching Alex dismantle the ambush with terrifying efficiency had left him in awe—and terror. He was grateful he hadn't betrayed Alex; otherwise, he'd have been among the defeated.

Rozier stood up, surveying the battlefield. His throat felt dry as he swallowed nervously. "So… they're all down? Shouldn't we be leaving now?"

Alex smirked and tossed two potion bottles at him. "Not yet. Drag these guys to the abandoned hut and give them this," he said, his tone casual but commanding.

Rozier caught the bottles, grimacing. He had no idea what Alex was planning, but disobeying wasn't an option. With a defeated sigh, he began dragging bodies one by one.

Meanwhile, Alex pulled a small coin from his pocket. Holding it between his fingers, he infused it with magic three times—a prearranged signal for Higgs and Vivian. Three infusions meant "mission accomplished" and that they should retreat.

With that done, Alex strolled over to where Yaxley lay unconscious. Crouching beside him, Alex's movements became deliberate and precise. He appeared to be searching for something, his expression unreadable.

'Don't disappoint me, Yaxley,' Alex thought, his fingers working deftly.

Wilkes felt his consciousness slowly stirring, and then the pain across his body surged into his brain like a tidal wave. Everything hurt—his head spun, his limbs ached, and even breathing seemed to pull at unseen wounds.

'Where am I?' He forced his eyes open, blinking against the dim light. The world came into focus slowly, and what he saw made his breath hitch—a dilapidated house, its walls cracked and covered in grime. All around him, people huddled in the corners, their faces pale with fear and exhaustion. It took him a moment, but he recognized them: his companions. They were the same group who'd ambushed Alex just before everything went dark.

Then, he spotted Yaxley among the group, his face twisted in a scowl. Panic settled in as Wilkes pieced together the scene. This wasn't just any random place—it was the very same house they had used for their ambush. But now, the tables had turned.

Wilkes's gaze swept the room again, landing on a boy standing a few feet away. The boy's expression was cold, his posture rigid with an aura of control. It was Alex. That calm yet unyielding demeanor made it clear: this was no longer their battlefield. It was Alex's.

Reality crashed down on Wilkes like a hammer. The fight hadn't gone their way, and now they were the ones at his mercy.

Painfully, he pushed himself up, groaning as his body protested. His hand fumbled at his side, searching for his wand—his one hope of defense—but found nothing. His stomach sank further when he realized his pockets were completely empty. Even the potion he had stashed for emergencies was gone.

"Awake now, are we?" Alex's sharp voice cut through the air like a whip. "Good. Stand up, put your hands on your head, and squat down. Don't make me repeat myself."

Wilkes blinked at him, still dazed, unsure if he'd heard correctly. The last thing he remembered was being hit by a barrage of spells and passing out. He hadn't even gotten the chance to put up a proper fight. His confusion earned him no sympathy.

"I said, stand up!" Alex snapped again, punctuating his command with a swift kick to Wilkes's side. "Hands on your head, squat down. Look at your companions if you need a reminder of what to do!"

Wilkes glanced over to the corner. His former allies were already squatting miserably, their hands clasped over their heads. They looked utterly defeated, their faces pale and full of resentment. With no other choice, Wilkes obeyed, lowering himself slowly to the ground. Every movement made his battered body scream in protest.

"Perfect," Alex said, his tone cool and detached. "Now that everyone's awake, let's have a little chat."

Yaxley raised his head, his glare full of venom. "Alex, you've already disarmed us and humiliated us. What more do you want?"

Alex's lips curled into a humorless smirk. "Oh, you're asking what I want? Let me ask you something instead. What did you want when you set me up? When you made it your mission to ruin my life?"

He walked over to Wilkes, who had just settled into his squat. Without warning, Alex grabbed his shoulder in a vice-like grip. Wilkes winced, unable to contain the hiss of pain that escaped his lips. "I came to Hogwarts to study magic, just like anyone else," Alex began, his voice calm but underlined with steel. "But for some reason, you all decided I didn't belong. Is it because I'm not pure enough for you? Because I don't fit into your neat little boxes?"

Wilkes blinked at him, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. Why me? Yaxley's the one arguing with you! But before he could utter a word, Alex's grip tightened, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his shoulder. Wilkes had no choice but to shake his head in response, hoping to appease him.

"And it didn't stop at words, did it?" Alex continued, his voice rising slightly. "You harassed me, stalked me, set traps for me. And now, on Christmas of all times, you try to ambush me here? Was it really worth it?"

Wilkes whimpered, shaking his head again as Alex's fingers dug deeper into his shoulder. The sharp gaze Alex cast around the room made everyone else avert their eyes. "I've put up with your nonsense long enough," Alex said, releasing Wilkes and stepping back. "And now I'm done. I'm taking control of this little game. From now on, you'll follow my rules."

The room fell silent as Alex's words sank in. Rozier, one of the squatting wizards, felt a chill run down his spine. He's serious. He's really going to force us all to submit. Yaxley, however, wasn't about to let it slide. He shot to his feet, his face red with fury. "You think we'll listen to you? You're a Mudblood! You're nothing! Dream on if you think we'll bow to you!"

Alex's laugh was cold, almost mocking. "Bow? Who said anything about bowing? This isn't a negotiation, Yaxley. This is me threatening you. And unless you've gone completely stupid, you'll take me seriously."

Yaxley's fists clenched, his teeth grinding together. "You can't just stand there and threaten us. I'll report you to the Headmaster! You'll be expelled for this, you coward. Do you even dare kill us?"

Alex's voice was cold and deliberate as he scanned the crowd. "Using the Killing Curse without authorization, you're the main criminal, and they're your accomplices. Your wand is here with me now. Do you need me to prove it with a flashback spell?"

The room fell silent, the little wizards around taking a collective, sharp breath at his words. The mention of the Unforgivable Curses sent chills down their spines. It wasn't just dark magic—it was an unforgivable crime. Without authorization from the British Ministry of Magic, using such a spell on another person meant a life sentence in Azkaban.

"Yaxley?" whispered one of the onlookers. "How could he…?" The murmurs spread. Everyone knew that such spells were used in secrecy, far from witnesses. To cast one openly was reckless—a direct invitation to disaster.