Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

Chapter 1159: Chapter 255: Run, Laira

The noisy parade finally surged past like a tide, leaving a mess of flyers scattered across the street.

Only then did the passersby notice that there was a twisted corpse on the ground.

He lay on his back, eyes wide open, with long, disheveled beard and hair spread across the ground, pupils already dilated, and the shock and agony of his final moment frozen on his face.

”Ah—!!!”

A piercing scream echoed down the street.

”Oh my God! Call the police! Quick, call the police!”

”What happened to him? Was it a heart attack?”

The passersby formed a semicircle, pointing and whispering, yet none dared approach.

Through the glass storefront, Laira stared intently at the corpse, a chilling cold rising from her soles straight to her head, instantly freezing her blood and breath.

Her body trembled, and suddenly, the surrounding Muggles seemed to change their faces, their gasps, fears, and indifference becoming masks, beneath which lurked the sinister intent to kill!

She hesitated not even a moment, nor wasted time for a second look or to verify anything, but spun around abruptly, rushing with all her strength like a startled rabbit toward the nearest subway entrance, swiftly disappearing into the depths of the underground maze.

...

In one of the rooms of the hotel building diagonally opposite.

Antoine stood by the window, watching as a parade passed by, and then Fontana became a corpse. A rare hint of astonishment crossed his face.

”Fontana... just died like that?”

His tone was somewhat incredulous: ”That was Ilvermorny’s headmaster, proficient in Ancient Magical Runes and Defense Magic, a character as cunning as a fox... and yet killed so easily?”

Antoine even found it somewhat unreal.

In his anticipation, dealing with an opponent of Fontana’s level should at least be a fierce magic duel, possibly involving considerable sacrifice.

Or perhaps, only Grindelwald personally taking action could subdue him.

But now?

He hadn’t sent any member of the Witch Pure Party, nor did Vid take action himself, and yet that powerful enemy was dead?

Vid stood beside him, similarly watching the crowd beginning to gather on the street below, and the corpse covered in footprints.

Upon hearing this, Vid chuckled and retorted, ”What? Did you want to arrange a grand funeral for him?”

Antoine was slightly choked up, shaking his head and saying, ”I didn’t mean that, I just thought... this ending is too hasty for such a powerful wizard...”

Vid said, ”Alastor Moody, when teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts, once said... no matter how powerful a wizard is, he must always remain vigilant, or else he won’t be far from death.”

Antoine: ”...that lunatic?”

When he brought Salem’s students to Hogwarts for a competition, he worked alongside Moody for a time, witnessing firsthand the bizarre behaviors born out of excessive vigilance and paranoia.

”Actually, he had a point,” Vid said, ”No matter who it is, when they lower their guard and underestimate the surrounding crowd, they become as fragile as a baby.”

Vid’s gaze swept over the passersby on the street, saying: ”If just now, any of these people suddenly fired a gun at him, or secretly stabbed a dagger into his body, or even reached out to slit his throat, could Fontana have dodged it?”

”Most likely not.”

”It’s just that, in such a situation, the chance of him being rescued would be substantial.”

As a fellow headmaster of a Magic School, Dumbledore faced the most brutal conflicts, constantly strategizing, scheming, and resisting even as he aged, his combative instincts never having faded from his body.

And Fontana?

He indeed possessed many advanced spells but lived constantly in a peaceful and respected environment, utterly unaffected by causes of death like shootings, robberies, murders, or car accidents.

Even when reduced to becoming a fugitive, he fundamentally lacked a true sense of crisis, subconsciously believing strangers would not harm him.

In the distance, piercing sirens approached rapidly, converging on the street where the incident occurred — there was a police station nearby, so their response time was quick.

Antoine clicked his tongue regretfully, ”Pity... only Fontana, but I haven’t seen Laira. Have they separated?”

Vid watched the subway entrance tens of meters below, softly saying, ”Don’t worry, she won’t get away!”

...

The subway tunnel was dim and noisy, filled equally with various strange-looking Muggles; some dressed like walking tomatoes, some covered in metal accessories, some tattooed from head to toe, some suddenly shouting or tumbling head over heels.

In the crowd, Laira hurried along, her heart pounding frantically, as if it would smash through her ribs.

She had no idea why Fontana suddenly fell — poison? Curse? Or some fatal Dark Magic like the Killing Curse?

No matter what, she was one hundred percent certain that the person who killed Fontana was mixed in with the Muggle parade, possibly even disguised in one of these bizarre appearances!

Now, every passerby brushing past, each inadvertent glance, tightened Laira’s nerves.

Her face was pale, her eyes scanning fearfully, fingers unconsciously gripping her sleeve, making her especially conspicuous among the hurried passengers.

A police officer noticed the oddity of this old lady.

The experienced cop didn’t relax his vigilance due to the old lady’s frail appearance; his hand rested on the gun holstered behind his waist, as he walked straight through the crowd towards Laira.

But the officer didn’t notice, as he stepped forward, a passenger behind him also moved at nearly the same time, his mouth forming a cruel smirk, eyes fixed intently on Laira.

As Laira met his gaze, her mind exploded with a loud bang, a tidal wave of crisis —

Can’t let him come close!

Can’t be caught by him!

Getting close means certain death!

Fontana’s doomed expression flashed across her mind, abruptly prompting Laira to scream before turning away to flee!

”Wait! Ma’am, stop!”

The officer immediately gave chase, as Laira’s Magic Wand slipped from her sleeve, she then shook it vigorously —

”Boom—”

A vending machine exploded on cue, sending shrapnel scattering, cans rolling across the floor, and a ”whoosh” of cola spraying out, filling the air with a sweet aroma.

In the blink of an eye, the surrounding crowd descended into panic.

”It exploded!”

”Run fast!”

”Make way! Make way!”

People screamed, cried, and surged toward every exit, the tunnel was in chaos, even the police officer was busy fleeing, completely unable to pursue Laira.

Taking advantage, Laira slipped through the terrified crowd like a loach, quickly darting into a narrow adjacent passage.

The entrance of this passage was cordoned off, left deserted with only a janitor bending over ”swish swish” sweeping the floor.

In her fluster, Laira didn’t look, intent on sprinting past the janitorial cart.

At the instant they brushed past each other, the janitor’s hand, hanging at his side, shot up like lightning, clutching a silenced pistol, its muzzle almost pressed against Laira’s flank!