[82] The Serpent's Teeth

"You!!!" Carlos Abernathy's eyes bulged with rage, his usual refined demeanor gone. "Kid, you're courting death!"

He slowly raised his wand, ready to strike. But he hesitated. After all, this was Hogwarts, and the boy before him was a student. If he killed a child here, those lackeys following them would have ample excuse to cause trouble. On the other hand, if he let himself be provoked and did nothing, how could he maintain his authority?

A subordinate behind him sensed his conflict and hurried forward. "Abernathy, calm down. Let the child go. He's young and may not understand."

"Yes, why bother arguing with a child?"

"Kid, don't be silly. Abernathy's strength isn't necessarily inferior to your Headmaster's. Come down quickly. We have something very important to discuss with him."

Hall let out a contemptuous sneer. "Heh."

"Alright."

His smile widened, appearing utterly harmless.

"That's more like it. What a good boy." The man breathed a sigh of relief. If the child had continued to be stubborn, he wouldn't have known how to handle it.

Hall slowly raised his right hand. At the same time, his body descended from the air. As he descended, his gaze met the Saints', and soon fell even lower.

The Saints wore relaxed expressions.

Hall's face still held a charming smile. Then his right hand suddenly pressed down.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

A series of dull thuds, accompanied by a cloud of dust. The instant Hall landed, the Saints present knelt in unison.

Hundreds kneeling together was astonishing. Hall smiled slightly.

They were completely unprepared, their faces showing bewilderment and shock. The stronger Saints in the front row struggled against the magical pressure.

"No — impossible —" Carlos Abernathy desperately channeled all his power to resist. No matter how hard he tried, his knees remained firmly planted. Even his gums bled from the strain.

"Impossible... impossible..."

Carlos Abernathy's vision went white. He tried once more to resist, and — "Bang!" — he was sent flying by his own excessive force.

The magical pressure was withdrawn.

Even without the pressure, not a single one of them stood up. The few in the front row slightly raised their heads, but upon seeing the boy's chin, they dared not look up again.

To possess such immense magical power at such a young age. They would believe he was a descendant of Grindelwald.

The group exchanged glances, finally sending forward the one with the kindest, most harmless appearance.

Carlo was a large man, his belly protruding, panting heavily. He wiped the cold sweat from his face. His expression was gentle, full of smiles, without a trace of displeasure — like a benevolent grandfather.

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Hall raised an eyebrow, understanding why they'd sent this man.

"Little —" Carlo realised his form of address was wrong. "Miss —" No. "This —" He withdrew his words.

Carlo didn't know how to address the person before him. Despite his young age, he possessed such formidable power that none of the old men present could match him. Any form of address felt unworthy.

"May I ask how I should address you?"

Carlo, his large belly protruding, bowed slightly, his tone extremely respectful.

Hall raised an eyebrow, clearly in a better mood. It seemed these Saints would only speak politely when suppressed by force. "My name is Hall. Hall Weasley."

A flicker of shock crossed Carlo's eyes. Weasley! It could only be Weasley. He should have realised sooner — the redhead from Hogwarts, Dumbledore's man.

"Mr Weasley..." Carlo bowed even lower.

He knew some of what had happened. Dumbledore's student, the loyal Weasley, and with such powerful magic. A thought flashed through Carlo's eyes. Redhead! Then — perhaps the future of the Saints was here!

"Just call me Hall." Hall didn't like being called Mr Weasley. There were many Weasleys. Like George and Fred calling each other Mr Weasley.

"Respected Mr Hall." Carlo tactfully changed his address.

Hall nodded.

"We just wanted to confirm Mr Grindelwald's safety," Carlo inquired.

The Saints behind him didn't understand why Carlo had changed the question — hadn't he just hinted he was asking about Grindelwald's whereabouts? But because of Hall's recent display, though puzzled, none dared ask.

"He's safe," Hall said. "And he asked me to tell you all to inform every Saint that I, Hall Weasley, am your future executor."

Executor? A question mark appeared in their minds. What did that mean? But it must be the leader's intention. They glanced furtively at Carlo, noticing his ever-present gentle smile. He must have understood. They'd ask him privately.

"As you command, esteemed Mr Hall."

Carlo bent his knees slightly and lowered his head.

"As you command, esteemed Mr Hall."

The remaining Saints lowered their heads even further.

Hall was satisfied.

The Aurors were not. They gripped their wands tightly, watching the boy warily.

"Master, what should we do?" one Auror asked the middle-aged wizard beside him.

"Wait. Let's observe." The middle-aged wizard gave a cold smile. "Dumbledore's supporter is being revered by the Saints. The Minister is right. Hogwarts cannot be handed over to someone like him."

Hall's voice echoed as he laid out the next steps.

"Three days from now, we will hold the first Saints Group Business Conference in Hogsmeade." Hall's voice echoed in the air. His gaze swept over everyone present. "I will await the arrival of all the family leaders."

The major families under the Saints were largely independent, and Hall needed to review all the families willing to obey him within these three days. He had to maximise his profits as quickly as possible.

"Now, you may all return."

A hint of authority in his eyes commanded respect.

"Respected Mr Hall, the information you requested will be delivered immediately." Carlo was the first to stand. He bowed slightly and led his family's wizard away.

The other family leaders exchanged glances, said the same, then bowed and silently withdrew.

However, after everyone had left, the Rosier family members remained. They seemed hesitant, but ultimately chose a young man from the front row to step forward. He didn't look very old, but his demeanour was mature and composed.

He approached Hall, bowed, and asked respectfully, "Mr Hall, when will our matriarch come out?"

Hall frowned — he wasn't sure when the conversation inside would end. He remained silent.

The young man, thinking he had asked an inappropriate question, showed nervousness. "Sir, we were just asking. We're not worried, hahaha. The matriarch is perfectly safe at Hogwarts." He tried to ease the tension.

Hall inwardly admired the Rosier family's upbringing. "Don't worry. Your matriarch will be out soon."

The young man breathed a sigh of relief, bowed again, and returned to the group.

"I'll head back now." Hall turned and left. The remaining Rosiers nodded obediently and stood on the bridge to continue waiting.

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