THE MASTERMIND OF HOGWARTS

Diana tapped her toes lightly, leapt in front of Dumbledore, pressed the air with both hands, and pushed forward with a graceful, flowing motion.

It was as if something unseen surged forward with her gesture.

Moriarty's brows furrowed slightly. He recalled the sense of affinity from before—was this the "natural magic" that Dracula had mentioned?

"Nature's Blessing," Diana whispered softly, her voice so gentle it seemed meant only for the woodland creatures to hear.

A soothing breeze brushed the hall, and the gentle aura of nature swept in, dissolving Moriarty's water-element magic like spring rain washing away frost.

Instinctively, Moriarty clenched his left fist. The ice enveloping his hand evaporated.

"This natural magic… it's like a divine grace. It contains the breath of the forest,"

Moriarty muttered to himself as he quickly cast a reinforced Armor Charm and an advanced Illusion Spell over himself.

"Secret Whispering Snake!"

A cluster of dark shadows swirled around Diana. Moriarty incanted in Parseltongue, and the shadows burst open—black snakes slithered outward, circling Diana.

"Natural magic can dissolve elemental constructs," Moriarty commented from the shadows,

"but snakes are a part of nature itself. They possess no mana. They are of the world.

So, Diana, how will you face them?"

His cold voice echoed through the great hall as he continued to study her magic, determined to uncover its secrets.

Diana's long pointed ears twitched slightly. Elven sensitivity—she had caught his location.

She raised her right hand and fired a spell toward where he had spoken.

Boom!

The spell hit the wall—Moriarty had already shifted.

"Elves use their fingers as wands," he noted aloud.

"That explains goblins and house-elves casting without wands. Their magic stems from their bloodline."

Diana turned toward his voice again, but he had already vanished.

The serpents had climbed her long white legs, slithering toward her waist. She didn't even flinch.

Her eyes darted around, still trying to locate him.

Realizing she could not lock onto him, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

The snakes coiled further up her body, nearing her chest.

Moriarty kept his focus, paying no mind to her beauty. His eyes grew cold. He clenched his left fist again.

At once, the snakes responded. They joined together, linking end to end like chains, forming thick, black ropes that bound Diana tightly.

Her knees, waist, and neck were cinched by serpentine coils.

The constriction emphasized her figure, nearly forcing her robes to burst open.

Moriarty's gaze lingered momentarily before he turned his head.

He noticed a faint red mark appear on Diana's skin, her breathing shallow but composed. She uttered not a word.

Shhhh!

Diana opened her eyes and hoarsely chanted a phrase in a language Moriarty had never heard:

"Good night, Moon."

Moriarty's eyes narrowed. That language…

A radiant moonlight burst forth above Diana's head.

Her golden hair glowed under its silvery shimmer, and the snakes disintegrated into black mist.

As the moonlight fell upon him, Moriarty's invisibility unraveled.

"Interesting magic," he murmured calmly.

He extended a hand into the light. It was cold and soft, unassuming, yet it had undone two powerful enchantments.

"Moonlight… and it disrupts illusions? This is no ordinary Elven spell."

"Kill demon."

His tone hardened. Shifting tactics, he invoked a speed-enhancing charm—Comes and Goes Like the Wind—and lunged at Diana with swift precision.

"Hmph." Diana snorted softly, nostrils flaring.

Her body mirrored his movement—quick, agile, deadly.

When they were within a meter of each other, Diana raised her right arm and aimed a heavy punch at Moriarty's face. He blocked with his left hand.

The force of the impact sent a shock through Moriarty's body. His arm trembled, the sheer strength in her punch numbing him instantly.

"You're this strong?!" Moriarty exclaimed, startled.

"Now I see why Dracula sent you."

Dumbledore's magic was vast, but not combative. Diana compensated—her priestly natural magic and elven martial prowess made her a perfect frontline fighter.

Together, they were a terrifying duo—but Moriarty had caught on to a critical weakness.

His eyes gleamed. Dracula could only control one at a time—either Diana or Dumbledore. Not both simultaneously.

That gave Moriarty an edge.

He shook off the ache in his left arm, raised his staff like a war mace, and brought it down in a sweeping strike toward Diana.

She blocked with her forearm.

Crack!

A gash opened on her wrist. But in the same instant, moonlight shimmered around it, healing the wound completely.

Her skin was once again flawless.

Without hesitation, Moriarty thrust his staff into the floor. He gripped Diana's wrist and poured water-element magic through the connection.

Frost began to spread across their arms, encasing them both.

Moonlight fought back, intensifying with every Elven syllable that fell from Diana's lips. But Moriarty pressed on.

"Ice Snake Waltz—Activate the Ice Magic Circle! Centered on me!"

Twelve serpentine heads of ice slithered forth, each radiating bitter cold.

The hall filled with frigid winds. Diana's wrists began to stiffen under the frost.

The glow of her moonlight dimmed as the Twelve Ice Serpents fully emerged.

Her expression grew solemn. She increased her chant's volume.

The breath of nature clashed with the encroaching frost.

At that moment, Jericho and Lilith rushed out of the hall.

The vast chamber was now divided in two—

One half a winter wasteland of biting snow and howling winds,

The other a flourishing springtime glade filled with warmth and floral essence.

At the boundary between spring and winter stood Moriarty and Diana—hands locked, frozen together, their powers battling.

To anyone watching, it looked like they were holding hands.

Lilith's face darkened. Beneath her robes, her fists clenched.

Jericho swore he saw her wand twitch.

If they kept holding hands much longer…

But the moment passed.

The Twelve Ice Serpents rose and began to dance in the air, creating a spiraling blizzard around Diana.

They obscured the moonlight, driving back her spell.

Frost crawled up her legs—her boots froze, then cracked.

Dracula, sensing the tide turning, stopped controlling Diana and redirected his magic into Dumbledore.

The old headmaster raised his wand—not to cast, but to shout.

A single guttural word reverberated through the hall.

A blast of light accompanied it, and the blizzard shattered under the sheer force of the sound.

A word of power.

Moriarty's eyes widened. If he hadn't known Dragon Tongue, he would've missed it.

Dumbledore had just spoken in the language of dragons!

The spell translated to: Flashing Dragon Roar.

Dragon Language!

The realization struck him hard.

"Dragons and Elves… they're the most compatible with occult magic,"

Moriarty recalled Dracula's words.

So the mysterious language Diana spoke—it was Elvish!

Dragon Language and Elvish.

Alchemy, Merlin's Brain Dimension, the Dragon's Curse, and now this.

Moriarty finally understood Dracula's plan.

It was intricate. Every piece interconnected. Every deception masked another.

Lies within truths, truths within lies.

Black became white, and white became black.

A masterstroke by an ancient being.

"Hmph… What a web of manipulation," Moriarty growled.

The advantage had slipped.

The dragon's roar had dispelled the storm.

The Elven moonlight lingered.

The Twelve Ice Snakes faltered, halving in size.

But in Moriarty's mind, a deeper understanding had begun to bloom…