Fourth Scourge

Blake's thoughts drifted as he watched the name "Rip Carlos" appear on the list. The next moment, a warm sensation spread through his body. It was a familiar feeling—one he had experienced before. Then, almost immediately, he felt lighter, as if his entire physique had subtly improved.

It wasn't just a feeling; his physical strength had genuinely increased.

Then, with a sudden crack, the ring on his hand splintered.

"Again?" Blake murmured to himself, looking at the shattered remains of the magic-sealing ring. The increase in his magical power had overwhelmed its limits. He sighed. That meant only one thing: the system was feeding his attributes again. Every time he recruited a new subordinate, the system rewarded him in this manner.

The last time it had happened was when Filch joined him. But since Filch had only just become a wizard and lacked any real abilities at the time, the feedback from the system had been minimal.

This time, however, was different.

Rip Carlos was an entirely different class of wizard. Once a formidable force, he had mastered both magical prowess and battle-hardened skill. In the past, he had single-handedly fought off an entire pack of werewolves and driven them out of a village. His abilities had once been extraordinary, making it impossible for an ordinary wizard to stand against him.

And now, with his memories restored, he was once again that powerful wizard, though his body had yet to recover fully. The knowledge, the skill, the power—it all came back to him in an instant.

Blake could feel the impact through the system's feedback. His magical abilities had taken another leap forward.

"Thank you... I feel much better," Rip Carlos said after a brief pause, his voice already steadier than before.

His formerly frail and withered frame seemed to gain vitality with every passing second. Meanwhile, Nagini approached, carrying a steaming bowl of porridge, and handed it to him.

A few moments ago, Rip had barely been able to eat. But now, at the sight of the food, his stomach growled audibly.

"Eat first," Blake said gently. "We'll talk once you're full."

Blake maintained a calm expression, but inside, he was elated. He had checked the directory, and if Rip's body fully recovered, his power would rival that of Albus Dumbledore himself.

The last time he had received such an extraordinary wizard was Aberforth Dumbledore. This was like winning a lottery jackpot.

No wonder Dumbledore had encountered Rip Carlos in the past—they were both on the same level.

Blake suddenly had high hopes for the other wizards who had fallen victim to Lockhart's deception.

But there was one thing he didn't understand.

How could such a powerful wizard be outwitted by someone like Gilderoy Lockhart?

While he pondered this, Rip finished the porridge in record time. Now, he was meticulously scraping the bowl clean, ensuring not a single grain of rice was wasted.

"Ah... I haven't had hot food in so long," Rip sighed in satisfaction. He then turned to Nagini and offered her a warm smile. "Thank you, kind girl. That was delicious."

Nagini returned the smile, nodding as she set the empty bowl aside.

Now, the old wizard's gaze fell upon Blake. Something had changed in his eyes.

Having been successfully recruited by Blake, he now looked at him with an entirely new sense of attachment. An instinctual sense of loyalty filled his heart. Blake suddenly felt like the most important person in the world to him—someone he wanted to protect at all costs.

Of course, even without the system's influence, Rip would have still been grateful. After all, Blake had not only saved his life but also given him back the most precious thing he had lost: his magic.

"Can you tell me?" Blake finally asked. "How did Lockhart turn you into this?"

Rip Carlos let out a bitter chuckle. "I have to admit... he is indeed quite persuasive."

He sighed before continuing.

"He claimed he was a writer from England. Said he had heard of my deeds and wanted to write about them in a book. I didn't think much of it at the time and told him my story...

"A few days later, the werewolves I had driven away came back for revenge. I prepared myself for battle again, ready to fend them off as I had before. But then...

"I was hit from behind."

Rip pointed to his back, his expression darkening.

"That wretched man, Lockhart, used an Obliviate curse on me while my back was turned.

"It was an exceptionally powerful memory charm. When I woke up, I had forgotten everything. My name, my magic—everything was gone.

"All I could see was my village in ruins. The people... gone."

His voice trembled as his eyes reddened with grief.

"I still don't know how I managed to escape the werewolves after collapsing under that curse," he murmured. "After all... the villagers... they weren't so lucky."

Blake could feel the pain radiating from him.

Rip took a deep breath, composing himself before speaking again.

"So... if you know where Lockhart is..."

His voice was eerily calm, but the air around him thickened with a menacing aura.

Blake met his gaze and didn't flinch. "He used your story to become the best-selling author in the wizarding world."

Rip's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Professor Dumbledore suspected something was amiss, so he recruited Lockhart as a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts," Blake explained. "He was hoping to expose Lockhart as a fraud in a... gentler manner."

Rip exhaled sharply. "I don't want to use such a gentle method."

Blake smirked. "Neither do I."

He had once assumed that Lockhart merely erased memories for self-gain and had some form of moral boundary. But now, it was clear—Lockhart had none.

He had sacrificed an entire village just to steal another man's glory. He had left Rip Carlos, a man who had once protected so many, as nothing more than a broken shell of himself.

Rip clenched his fists. "The werewolves... they must still be around."

"Do you know where they are?" Blake asked.

"I know where they were," Rip replied. "But I don't know if they've moved in the past few years. The werewolf who led them was from Wagga Wagga, Australia. They attacked my village frequently, but I drove them away each time... Until that day.

"He must have recruited more followers. They wouldn't have been able to destroy the village otherwise."

Rip's voice grew colder. "If Lockhart had waited just one more day, I would have dealt with them. But no... He had to interfere."

Blake reached into his bag and pulled out a package, placing it in front of Rip.

"Take a bath. Change into these."

Rip hesitated before unwrapping the package. Inside were fresh clothes—and a brand-new wand.

His fingers trembled slightly as he looked at Blake.

"Good boy... What's your name?"

Blake met his gaze steadily and smirked.

"Blake Green. Or... you can call me the Fourth Scourge."

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