Capítulo 252: Plan Unfolds
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Aurors Edward Moss and Isobel Dean were both relatively recent additions to the Aurors Office. Both made themselves known as all-rounders at their times in Hogwarts — one of the basic requirements of being inducted into the Auror training programs. Both passed said training programs with flying colors earning them their bronze shields, officially making them part of the DMLE as Junior Aurors.
Alas, while Trainee Aurors thought their lives were rough with training that went from early morning to the late evening didn't know they were nothing more than flowers soaking sunlight in a comfortable greenhouse shielded away from the harsh cold of the real outside world.
Passing in the same batch as each other meant Edward and Isobel joined the force at the same time, but that also meant that they entered the slave life of being a Junior Auror at the same time. Junior Aurors were worked to their bones — interrogative skills, deduction, dueling, stealth, potions and poisons, and more paperwork — everything they learned as Trainee Aurors was tested and tempered to the real-life standards. There was a saying in the Aurors Office — a rookie Auror wasn't really an Auror until they were broken down and rebuilt back together by Office.
It wasn't strange that Edward and Isobel, who went through the process at the same time, formed a strong bond of camaraderie forged through the fires of rookie hell. Moreover, DMLE putting forward the stringiest qualifications and requirements meant that only half a handful of people were ever made Junior Aurors every year. In Edward and Isobel's batch, only four made it out of training.
The long hours, workloads that even a mule would whine about meant that Edward and Isobel spent most of their days together for weeks and months at end, and after over a year, they began growing closer, and one thing led to another, and here they were visiting a traveling circus group for a date.
"It's too loud," said Isobel, pulling off a clump from the cloud of pink cotton candy. "Maybe we should've gone somewhere a bit quieter."
Edward nodded while sipping a soda from a bottle. "Is it strange that I miss the cubical? Because I really miss the cubical a lot."
"It's not strange, not at all. It's cozy and warm."
"So cozy."
"We can always bounce and go somewhere else. I think I remember a good restaurant that we can go to. It'll be in the range that I can apparate with you side-apparating."
"Hmm. . . okay, but I think we should see the show first — we did buy the tickets."
Isobel nodded, looking at the stub ticket in her hands. It felt strange to actually use the money on something. Junior Aurors made really good money, much more than their peers in other fields were making, but they worked so much that, believe it or not, Junior Aurors didn't spend much in the first year of their career because of the sheer amount of work they did which led to no downtime — zero work-life balance — no time to continue with hobbies — no money spent.
They had finally spent some coin; it would be a waste to let it go to waste.
Isobel looked head at the largest striped tent in the middle of the entire carnival — every path to the main tent was lined with concession booths and lines of multi-colored triangle flags hanging from the overhead grid.
She looked at the menagerie tent in the row of stands. "Edward, we should go to pet—" Isobel winced, feeling the sharp pain in her arm. She looked to her side and saw Edwards clamping her arm. "What are you —"
"I have Rabastan Lestrange in my sight," Edwards said with an unnatural stillness, "and he's with Rodolphus Lestrange. Don't look!"
Isobel freed her arm from Edward's grasp, looped it into his, and leaned into him. "Where are they?" she asked.
"They're standing in between two stands, dressed in simple pants and shirts. . . I can't seem to see any other Death Eaters," said Edward, observing through his peripherals.
"I see more," said Isobel.
Edward stiffened for a brief second before speaking with his bottle near his lips, "Who did you spot?"
"Antonin Dolohov at my two and further along the same line, I see Milkes Mulciber," she gulped, "that's four out of the Azkaban Ten."
". . . and if these four are here, there's a good chance that other six are also around somewhere."
"We need to call for backup."
"You have your shield?" asked Edward.
Isobel nodded, her hand going inside her satchel purse, feeling for the badge, and next to it sat her wand. "I sent for backup," she said, feeling her badge heat up.
"What should we do?" Edwards asked. "Also, let's walk; it's eye-catching for us to stand here in the middle of the street."
"We should keep an eye on them without engaging," said Isobel. "If all ten of the escapees are here, then they must be meeting here — you saw how they were dressed, none of them had a robe on, they are clearly not making their presence known."
". . . what if they're not here for a meeting. . . what if they're here to raid the carnival." Edward felt Isobel's eyes bore into him. "I mean, look around," they were surrounded by muggles and a distance away from the city, "isn't a place like this their preferred hunting ground?"
Isobel bit her lip, her other hand resting on her satchel tightened. "All we can do right now is to wait. . . and hope the backup arrives fast."
They didn't notice that another Death Eater was standing just behind them, listening to their conversation with a carton of popcorn in hand.
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James Potter sat in his office, working through a week's worths of paperwork due the next day. Moreover, today he was a Thursday, and he didn't want to work through the Friday evening after-hours to get the work done, so he had brought in the blankets and sheets to grind the night away.
"I need to do this work daily!" said James, groaning and stretching his arms above his head as he leaned into his chair. After staring at the wall above for half a minute, he got back to dipping his quill into the inkpot and got back to the papers.
*Beep*
The Senior Auror jerked straight in his chair. His hand went to his wand, which summoned his Senior Auror badge to him, and it was hot to touch. James' eyes narrowed as he saw the badge number which had reached out to him and the message coded in Auror's in-house cipher taught to every Auror.
"1553? That's Dean's number," James stood up from his chair; if he had read the code accurately, then it was no time for paperwork, and off he went.
The Junior Aurors sitting in their cubicles looked up to watch as one of the most decorated Senior Aurors ran through the bullpen, thinking is it was time for another prank. They didn't know that a majority of them were going to be vacating their cubicles in a while.
As James ran through the corridors, he met Senior Auror Proudfoot, who similarly came running through a different part of the Aurors Office.
"Did you get it too?" asked James as both men fell into a power walk; he could still feel the badge go through the cycles of heating up and down — Isobel was repeatedly sending the message.
Proudfoot nodded. Every Junior Auror in the Auror's Office was assigned a Senior Auror mentor(boss), but at the same time, they were assigned to another Senior Auror as per department protocol.
"Moss. . . Edward Moss is there with Dean," said Proudfoot. "They're at a date if I heard the grapevine correctly."
The two men arrived at Captain Auror Gawain Robards' office, who was their immediate superior. James knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for an answer. Inside sat Robarts, and Captain Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, who they weren't expecting to be there.
Robards looked away from Shacklebolt, who he had been talking to, and looked at his subordinates with a frown. "What do you two think you're doing entering my office like this?" He looked at Proudfoot, "I expect this from Potter, but you — you should know better."
"Sir, we got an emergency message from Junior Auror Isobel Dean," Proudfoot spoke, getting to the point. "She's at a muggle carnival with Junior Auror Edward Moss and reported that they have spotted four out of the ten Azkaban Death Eater escapees."
Robards' jaw set, and Shacklebolt's gasped. Robards' gaze sharpened as he asked, "Which ones have the identified?"
"The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov, and Mulciber," said James.
"Is it positive?"
"Yes, both of them are a hundred percent sure. They're currently watching them from a distance without engaging."
"Good decision," Robards got up from his chair and looked at Shacklebolt, "Go mobilize your unit. I'll go to Scrimgeour and talk to him about gaining access to Hit Wizards."
Shacklebolt nodded and set out to gather his Senior and Junior Auror.
Robards turned to James and Proudfoot and started, "Start briefing your Juniors and spread the word to the other Seniors to do the same and meet me with the status as soon as possible."
In a minute, the news reached the Head Auror Scrimgeour, and in the next ten minutes, Amelia Bones' home was floo-ed to call the already gone home Head of DMLE back
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"Dean."
Isobel heard a rustle behind her and took out her wand in response, but the sound of the voice did put her to ease as she turned to see her superior, James Potter, standing behind her along with Captain Auror Robards and a couple more Junior Aurors from the same sub-unit as her.
"Sir, you're here," she said, sounding relieved.
"What's the situation?" James asked, looking around the woods where Isobel stood. "In your initial message, you said they were in the carnival; why did you call use behind it?" The carnival stood a distance away from them, the music just audible.
"Sir, the Death Eaters, eventually moved out of the carnival and arrived here," she pointed a couple paces, and in the dim of the night, Edwards could be seen crouching behind a bush, looking into a clearing, "Edwards is keeping a lookout on them — it seems that our guesses were right and the escaped Death Eaters have indeed gathered here for a meeting."
"All ten?" asked Robards.
"No, sir, ever since our last communication, two more joined — Travers and Barilier."
"Good job, Auror Dean," said Robards, "your and Moss' response was excellent in this situation. Now, please fall back, and have a rest while we apprehend the Death Eaters."
With Robards' words, people dressed in Auror robes stepped out from behind the trees — as if emerging straight from the shadows. Isobel's eyes widened at the density of Aurors gathered for one operation — she noted around a number just shy of four dozen — one Captain Auror, a handful Senior Aurors, and the numerous Junior Auros, all gathered dressed in their Auror overcoats, looking ready for battles.
Sirius Black stepped out from the group and reported to Robards, "Sir, we are ready on our end, but it would take time for Hit Wizards to arrive here on the scene," unlike Isobel and Edwards, who knew of the place and could apparate, others had to take the broom to arrive, "should we wait or. . ."
"No use waiting for the Hit Wizards for six people," Robards replied sturdily, "we will move strongly and swiftly." He paused in thought, "order for the anti-apparition wards to be drawn up. If the Hit Wizards don't arrive by then, we will proceed on our own."
Sirius took the order and took the batch of Juniors with the warding duties to cast an anti-apparition ward around the area.
"Any idea what they're talking about?" James asked Edwards, who was relieved from his watch duty.
"No, sir, I wasn't able to hear what they're talking about, but they do seem to be in a heated discussion."
"Does it look like they're waiting for the others?"
"It doesn't look like it, sir, but without actually listening to them, we can't be sure."
James nodded, but a thought stuck in his mind. Why were these Death Eaters meeting there? He knew Voldemort was back, so why would they meet here, far away from any wizarding location, especially this particular group of people who would despise any place that wasn't touched with magic in some way.
It didn't make sense to him.
"S-Sir."
Everyone turned to see a Junior Auror with his wand out toward the sky, with a frown on his face.
"What is it?" asked Sirius, who was coordinating the warding
"W-We can't cast the ward."
"What do you mean, you can't cast the ward?"
"The ward isn't pulling up, sir. Something is blocking it."
Robards and James looked at Sirius, who pulled out his wand to check the problem, but everyone got the answer before he could even cast the spell.
"Oh, dear little cousin~."
Those who knew the voice couldn't forget it even if it had been more than a decade since the last time they had heard it. The voice was unmistakably from that woman — the pitch, the tone, rhythm, texture, everything was the same as all those years ago.
Sirius looked down towards the place where the six Death Eaters were, and suddenly, there were now ten people standing — all of the Azkaban Ten, and in front of the group stood Bellatrix Lestrange in all her crazy glory.
"Look at you all grown up~, big Auror Black, hehe~," she said.
Everyone saw Bellatrix raise her wand, and so did Voldemort's other nine best duellers, trained by the Dark Lord himself.
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In the Ministry Atrium with the Fountain of Magical Brethren, the air twisted and turned, black haze spread, and from within, stepped out — tall, thin, and black-hooded, his terrible snakelike face white and gaunt, slit-pupiled eyes — Dark Lord Voldemort.
He glanced around the empty Atrium. The golden gates that were passed through by hundreds of people were now open, with everybody having gone home. Even the security booth was empty because no visitors were allowed at night.
He cracked his neck and smoothly moved towards the golden gate, knowing the path that led to the Prophecy Hall, but the moment he turned to face the golden gates, he came to a stop.
Albus Dumbledore was dressed in white and grey robes, a long white beard and hair, and blue eyes peeking from behind the golden framed half-moon glasses and were standing in front of the golden gates.
"Hello, Tom," said Dumbledore, "do you know that Ministry is closed off to visitors, so it's not proper for you to be here. How about you turn away and leave."
Or so he said, but Voldemort watched the old man take out his wand.
"Dumbledore. . . how did you know?"
"I never expected this from you, Tom," said Dumbledore, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes at how Dumbledore said his muggle name. "I never expected for you to use stealth and distraction as part of your arsenal. From what I remember, you were always a fan of the flairs. . . maybe, you have changed after so many years — it has been more than a decade after all. How has all that time treated you?" Dumbledore smiled, "Was it pleasant?"
Voldemort gritted his teeth; the old man was mocking him, just like he had always done as if he was lower than him.
"You made a mistake, Dumbledore," he said as his wand slid out from his sleeves, "you shouldn't have come here; now you're going to die here with no one to see it."
Dumbledore tilted his head, "You're mistaken, Tom. Today, you won't be leaving from here. It was foolish for you to come over for the prophecy, and now I'm going to make you regret it."
The air itself started to tremble as magic thrummed from the two magical powerhouses — the two most powerful men in the country.
"Time to go to the next great adventure, Dumbledore," said Voldemort as his magic flowed into his wand, concentrating as green light sparked up at the wand tip.
"It must've been tough, all those years; it's time for you to rest," Dumbledore smiled as he drowned the death stick with his magic.
The decade's biggest duel was about to start.
The two supernovas of magic had finally met.
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Quinn West - MC - Question: "What do you think would be my favorite manga/anime?"
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Okay, this felt a little better; by the end, I felt that things were going back into sync. Let's see how the next chapter goes.
Dumbledore - 2nd Coming of Merlin - It's time.
Voldemort - Dark Lord - to DUEL!
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PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
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Capítulo 253: The Clash of Supernovas
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Voldemort raised his wand and sent a jet of green light at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak; next second, he had reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand toward the Fountain of Magical Brethren for the golden statue of the wizard in the fountain to sprung alive, leaping from its plinth, and landed on the floor with a crash between Dumbledore and Voldemort.
The wizard statue planted a knee on the floor, cocking his arm, and brought down a golden fist atop Voldemort, who spread his arms like an orchestra conductor, and the incoming punch changed directions, crashing a few feet away. But neither Dumbledore nor his animated statue was done as the other palm came sweeping from the side.
Voldemort jutted his wandless arm toward the palm. A barrier appeared in between Voldemort and the golden palm and brought the mighty statue's arm to stop.
Voldemort's lipless mouth pulled back and bared his teeth towards Dumbledore and swung his wand; the wizard statue's arm turned to liquid, and the bulky golden globs sped towards Dumbledore, who flicked his wand, and the globs turned into cold tar blocks, falling down on the ground.
Dumbledore made the next move, and the rest of the statues in Fountain of Magical Brethren came to life — witch, woman, man, half-elf, goblins, centaur all jumped down from their pillars stampeded towards Voldemort.
"ENOUGH!" said Voldemort, and with his yell, the statues crumbled down into pieces, and the force of the spell was felt across the Atrium. "You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" he growled. "Stop playing games, or are you above such brutality, is that it?!"
"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk toward Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit —"
"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort.
Dumbledore sighed, "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness —"
Another jet of green light flew towards Dumbledore, but a silver shield blocked it, and Dumbledore continued to talk, "Tom, whatever happens, today, you won't be getting your hands on that prophecy."
"You can't stop me, Dumbledore," said Voldemort, his dull black eyes turned a glowing scarlet red, he looked at the fallen statues and spoke, "you've lost your touch, I can tell. . . how long has it been since you used magic to the fullest? How long has it been since you actually dove into the arts?"
Dumbledore didn't reply, causing a smile to appear on Voldemort's face.
"You have grown complacent, Dumbledore. I, on the other hand, spent thirteen years. . . living," there was steel in his as he spoke of his time as a spirit, "I might have been away, but I spent all those years. . . thinking, gaining from what I was given, what I was left with — I never wasted a moment — but you, on the other hand, played headmaster with kids."
Dumbledore didn't look bothered. What Voldemort said might have been true; he indeed hadn't exerted him for a long time, there was never a need for him to do so, and he wasn't bothered by it.
"That doesn't change anything, as long as we're here," Dumbledore pointed at Atrium, and his eye blue eyes started to glow with a silver light, "it doesn't matter whatever you or I did for the last ten years."
Voldemort had no retort. As long as both of them were in a closed space, it restricted what both of them could do. If they truly fought, as Voldemort wished for, the Ministry headquarters and the Whitehall above with various Muggle government bureaus and ministries would turn to rubble and dust in minutes.
Dumbledore smiled at Voldemort's response or the lack of it. It might be true that he lost out to the man in front of him in raw power, but that in no way meant that they were weak; in a restricted place like this, they were all but equal.
'Even if we weren't, I wouldn't lose,' thought Dumbledore with pride tainting his thoughts. There was a reason why he was granted the title of Grand Sorcerer. He had a hundred years of experience behind him.
Dumbledore drew back his wand and waved it as though brandishing a whip. A long thin flame flew from the tip; it wrapped itself around Voldemort, who conjured a shield, but the fiery whip burned brighter and longer, enveloping the shield dome as well. He pulled on the fire whip, and it tightened around Voldemort's shield, strangling it as the dome contracted like a balloon when squeezed.
It seemed Dumbledore had gained the upper hand for a moment, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold upon Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.
Voldemort vanished, and the snake grew into a Basilisk, rearing its head at the colossal height of twenty feet. The fire apparition roared and hissed fire out. Dumbledore's eyes widened when the flames turned a violet shade — a curse was weaved into the fire.
'But where's —'
Dumbledore's pulse skipped a beat as he felt a palpitation of magic behind him. Without turning back, Dumbledore pulled a translucent blue shield that instantly multiplied into three layers of barriers. The next instant, he felt a force attack from his back.
A grunt escaped him. Dumbledore turned and saw an orangish-yellow flame with a terrible curse that he was well familiar with — Fiendfyre.
"Tom, has your brain degraded with your appearance? Do you have any idea what you're doing?" he said to Voldemort, who stood on the empty Fountain of Magical Brethren's pedestal.
Voldemort didn't reply, he didn't need to, and he knew that Dumbledore wasn't looking for one. Fiendfyre might be a demanding spell to control and contain when cast, but under his experienced and masterful lead, it was as easy to manage as a Lumos.
"You won't be leaving here alive, Dumbledore," said the Dark Lord.
Dumbledore furrowed his brows as the Fiendfyre pushed against him.
'Where are they?' he thought. 'Why haven't they arrived yet?'
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Near the carnival grounds, the Aurors and Death Eaters were exchanging spells in the woods. Four dozen Aurors were being matched with ten Death Eaters on the front and five others who were hidden in the woods, pushing the Aurors back with stealthy covers for the main fighting force.
"Potter~! How's your little boy doing?! My master has been dying to meet him, though if they meet, he's going to die!" Bellatrix Lestrange called gleefully as she side-stepped one spell, blocked two others, and shot a Cruciatus back, and felt her smile touch her ears from the scream.
James conjured dozens of steel swords and shot them towards the Death Eaters, but the blades vanished without a trace before they reached.
"Shit!" a vein popped on James' temple, his eyes peering past Bellatrix and looking at Augustus Rookwood standing in the middle of the Death Eater encirclement.
The ex-Unspeakable was being the main reason four dozen Aurors were having problems with fifteen Death Eaters. Rookwood stood defended by the rest and was solely responsible for dispelling any dangerous spells that were pushed towards them, which he was unusually good at.
"How's he doing that?!" asked James.
"It's related to his research field," Sirius said, having studied Augustus Rookwood.
Unspeakables, at their core, were researchers who peered into the mysteries of magic, working to push wizardkind's knowledge of magic to newer heights. Some studied emotions like love and hatred, while others studied the fabled field of time, and then there were those who dove into the concept of death itself.
"Rookwood's research of choice was on how to dismantle the internal magic in spells. From what little the Unspeakables gave me when Rookwood was still active, he was able to dismantle a wide range of transfigurations and many of the common use offensive spells," said Sirius, giving his best friend a grim look.
James wrinkled his nose as he animated a squadron of golems and sent them barreling towards the Death Eaters. But inside, his thoughts were filled with what Rookwood could do in a duel. Almost everybody used common use spells while dueling with creating their own flair by adding unusual spells.
James gulped. Just by disabling common spells, Rockwood gained an edge on every person with a wand; Aurors were no exception.
"Get aside," said Shacklebolt and swung his wand in an elliptical motion; the sky above the clearing started to darken.
Rookwood looked up and saw a flash of light on the surface clouds. His eyes narrowed before widening to the limit.
"Rabastan, Rodolphus!" he said. "Incoming from the sky. Cover it!" This wasn't something he would be able to dispel.
The Lestrange brothers looked up at the sky and, without questions, raised barrier above the group just in time for a white flash followed by a loud crack.
"Bloody—"
"Ugh!"
The Lestrange brothers groaned as the giant lightning bolt assaulted their joint shields.
James and Sirius looked at Shacklebolt, who raised his wand again, and another bolt assaulted the Death Eaters. He stepped back from the frontline and breathed a sigh.
"Don't look at me and barrage them while they're off balance!" he yelled at the people who stared at him.
The Captain Aurors' words were immediately heeded, and the Auror forces started to concentrate their spells on the Lestrange brothers, and it worked as Rodolphus Lestrange got hit by a spell and screamed in pain.
"Brother!" Rabastan said in between shooting spells; he turned briefly to look at his prone brother. "Get out of here, now!"
Rodolphus lifted his sleeve, all but tearing it to reveal his dark mark; with great difficulty, he pressed his wand against the skull, and with a flurry of flashing light, he was gone.
"Oh, no!" said Bellatrix, pouting as she pounded the ground. "Playtime is over. It's too soon! I want to play more! Well, there will always be the next time," she then smiled, "but before we go, we will leave you with a gift."
Bellatrix pointed to the distance with a sparkling grin on her face.
None of the Seniors or Captains took their eyes off the battle, but Edwards did and saw a sight even though a first for him, horrified him to the core because of what it meant.
"Sirs!"
Shacklebolt, who was on downtime, turned and even his breath caught up.
Above the carnival, in the sky, floated a green skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth, curling around the skull — it was eerie, it was chilling, and it was — the Dark Lord's mark.
A wall of earth raised around the Death Eaters, and before the Aurors could break it down, the Death Eaters were gone, Portkeying away as they had planned.
"Go! Go! To the circus!" said Shacklebolt, running towards the carnival before apparating to cover the distance.
His and every Aurors' hearts beat in their ribcages.
Morsmordre's appearance in muggle areas was always accompanied by blood.
They only hoped they could make it in time.
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Voldemort pumped more magic into the Fiendfyre, and instantly, one of three barriers shattered.
Dumbledore turned away from Voldemort to face the violet fire vertebrate. It was still a threat even if it wasn't as dangerous as the Fiendfyre.
As the saying went, fight curse with curse.
Dumbledore brought his hand close, and a jet of water fountained out, rising in his waves, and in seconds, he had conjured enough water to fill multiple Olympic-sized swimming pools. The rising water then shimmered in dull light, turning cloudy — it had been cursed.
The water formed a phoenix figure and clashed against Voldemort's fire Basilisk.
The two elemental giants battled for dominance.
Dumbledore turned back to Voldemort the moment the second barrier broke, but as Dumbledore pushed more magic into his shield, Fienfyre disappeared like kindling on a windy day.
And before Dumbledore could react, a jet of green light flew at Dumbledore from Voldemort's wand at speed so quick that it didn't take a single second to cover the distance.
A burst of fire bloomed in front of Dumbledore, and from it appeared Fawkes, the phoenix. The bird opened its beak wide and
swallowed the jet of the green light whole. He burst into flame and fell small, wrinkled, and flightless to the floor.
At the same moment, Dumbledore brandished his wand in one, long, fluid movement — the water phoenix, which had been fighting the fire basilisk, grew angrier and sunk its talons into the fire, peaked the snake, and enveloped the fire monster within its wings — snuffing it out. Then it twisted its body in the air and flew towards Voldemort, covering him in a cocoon of molten glass.
For a few seconds, Voldemort was visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct upon the plinth, clearly struggling to throw off the suffocating mass.
Dumbledore watched as Voldemort struggled inside the water ball. His eyes went to the chick-phoenix rolled on the floor in a pile of ash, helpless in the dangerous situation, and seeing that sight made a rare anger bubble inside him.
Water blades formed inside the entrapment and ruthlessly zipped towards the center. He didn't want to kill Voldemort because he needed to know the locations and numbers of Horcruxes, but it didn't prevent him from taking away the limbs; they weren't necessary.
The water sphere burst open, and Voldemort hovered in the air, making Dumbledore gasp. It was unaided flight, something thought to be impossible before.
"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, DUMBLEDORE!"
Voldemort's legs and abdomen were bleeding, but everything was still in one piece; the rage in the scarlet eyes was something to be feared.
"Avada Kedav—"
He didn't complete the spell as the falling water from the water sphere turned into ice spheres and shot towards Voldemort under Dumbledore's command.
And it was that time when the Atrium doors burst open, and a few high-ranking with their Auror guards arrived — people like Cornelius Fudge, Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour, and the Hit Wizard Chief among the few others.
Voldemort looked at Dumbledore, ignoring the insignificant others; his eyes were dripping with hatred as his body dripped blood. He wanted to blow the entire street above, but logic didn't allow him.
He gave his wand a swing, sending statue pieces flying towards Dumbledore, and took the chance to escape by vanishing from the venue.
"He was there!" shouted a scarlet-robed man with a ponytail, who was pointing at a pile of golden rubble on the other side of the hall. "I saw him, Mr. Fudge, I swear, it was You-Know-Who, he just Disapparated!"
"I know, Williamson, I know, I saw him too!" said Fudge, gibbering, who was wearing pajamas under his pinstriped cloak and was gasping as though he had just run miles. "Merlin's beard — here — here! — in the Ministry of Magic! — great heavens above — it doesn't seem possible — my word — how can this be?"
"Dumbledore!" gasped Fudge, apparently beside himself with amazement. "You — here — I — I —"
"Stop, Cornelius," Dumbledore raised a tired hand up, "I don't wish to talk or answer any questions. But a few minutes ago, you saw proof, with your own eyes, that I have been telling you the truth for a year. Lord Voldemort has returned, you have been chasing the wrong men for twelve months, and it is time you listened to sense!"
"I — don't — well —" blustered Fudge, looking around as though hoping somebody was going to tell him what to do.
"I'm going home," said Dumbledore bluntly before turning to Amelia. "I'll be talking to you soon, Amelia."
He picked up Fawkes and walked to where the golden wizard's head lay on the floor. He pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Portus." The head glowed blue and trembled noisily against the wooden floor for a few seconds, then became still once more.
"Now see here, Dumbledore!" said Fudge. "You haven't got authorization for that Portkey! You can't do things like that right in front of the Minister of Magic, you — you —"
His voice faltered as Dumbledore surveyed him magisterially over his half-moon spectacles.
"Goodbye, Cornelius," said Dumbledore before activating portkey activated, and he was whisked away.
Leaving behind the destroyed Atrium from the unseen duel, which also became the venue for some bloody and unfortunate news.
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FictionOnlyReader(Past) - Author - Meh, didn't feel the heat this time as well.
FictionOnlyReader(Present) - Author - The above comment is from the time I wrote this chapter, and at that time, I wasn't feeling good about my writing (the last few chapters were written in that period). It continues to the end of this volume. Which is the next chapter.
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If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.
The link is in the synopsis!
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES
FictionOnlyReader
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