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Dumbledore's wand snapped up, aimed directly at Ethan, his expression momentarily furious, as if ready to strike.
But in an instant, his features shifted, his piercing blue eyes clearing.
"Was that… a hallucination?" he murmured, lowering his wand.
"You were talking to yourself," Ethan said seriously, his gaze steady.
"And you were about to put on that ring. I could feel something was very wrong with it."
Dumbledore lifted the ring once more, this time using a Levitation Charm to keep it at a safe distance. He examined it closely, his brow furrowing.
"There's a powerful curse on it… deadly," he murmured.
His voice carried an unusual weight, the kind that came when realization struck too late.
"Thank you, Ethan. You saved my life," Dumbledore said solemnly.
Without touching the ring, he used the Levitation Charm to guide it safely into a bag.
"This place isn't safe. We have what we came for, so—"
Before he could finish, his expression changed.
Ethan felt it too.
A terrifying presence crashed down on them, wrapping around him like a thousand invisible needles piercing his skin.
The house trembled violently, dust raining from the ceiling.
Then came the creatures.
Rats, insects—everything lurking in the Gaunt house—erupted into a frenzy, scurrying over their feet and fleeing in terror.
Ethan's instincts screamed at him. He didn't know what was happening, only that it was something ancient and deadly.
His wand was already raised.
Apparate. Now.
But the wooden floor beneath them suddenly burst apart.
A roar of fire erupted from below, white-hot and blinding, swallowing everything in its path.
Dumbledore's mouth opened, as if to say something, but the inferno had already consumed the space between them.
The explosion detonated with a force that rocked Little Hangleton.
From their homes, villagers jolted awake, staring in shock as a massive mushroom cloud bloomed where the old Gaunt house had stood.
The blast wave shattered windows, the fiery shockwaves searing through the night.
The flames painted the sky red, sending thick, black smoke billowing upward.
Debris rained down like a deadly storm, the remnants of the cursed house scattering in every direction.
Even the old Muggles—those who had lived through war—watched the burning ruins with wide, haunted eyes.
The fire raged, its heat so intense that even trees at the edge of the property ignited, turning the surrounding land into a charred inferno.
And at its center, untouched by the flames, was a sphere of shimmering golden light.
Inside, Ethan stood, breathing heavily.
The moment he sensed the eruption, he had activated the Quen Sign—the Witcher's protective shield.
It had saved his life.
But even with his quick reflexes, the sheer force of the blast had left him battered. His sharp Witcher senses magnified every sound, and now, the explosion's shockwave left a high-pitched ringing in his ears, making the world eerily silent.
Shaking his head, he steadied himself, reinforcing the Quen shield.
Then, with a forceful motion, he cast an Aard Sign, sending a concussive blast forward, clearing a path through the flames.
Step by step, he moved forward.
And then he saw him.
Dumbledore.
Of course, the world's greatest white wizard wouldn't fall to a mere explosion.
Dumbledore stood amidst the destruction, his robes billowing in the heat, his expression unreadable.
Ethan didn't know what spell Dumbledore had used, but the raging fire seemed to avoid him of its own accord.
Flames roared all around, yet not a single ember touched the old wizard.
Dumbledore turned and saw Ethan. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ethan could hear nothing.
His ears were still ringing, leaving him in deafening silence.
Frowning, Ethan pointed to his ears and shook his head.
Dumbledore immediately understood and motioned for him to move—fast.
The air was rapidly thinning. The fire consumed everything, devouring oxygen with terrifying speed.
Both of them struggled to breathe.
Wasting no time, Ethan and Dumbledore made their way toward the exit, stepping over smoldering debris and navigating through thick smoke.
As they emerged into the courtyard, Ethan finally got a clear look at Dumbledore.
The great wizard, despite his power, looked worse for wear. His silver hair and beard were singed at the edges, his once-pristine robes marred with burn marks.
Even so, his blue eyes remained sharp, scanning their surroundings for threats.
Ethan exhaled, relieved to be out of the inferno, but a sudden warmth trickling down his cheek made him pause.
Reaching up, he touched his face—blood.
The explosion's shockwave had done more damage than he realized. His ears were still ringing, and dizziness threatened to take hold.
Without hesitation, he pulled a Swallow potion from his belt and downed it.
The effects were immediate. It was as if someone had unmuted the world—the crackling fire, the distant shouts, the shifting debris—all of it flooded back into his senses.
Ethan turned to Dumbledore, about to speak—
Then his instincts screamed.
A surge of danger.
Without thinking, he drew the Sword of the Lady of the Lake and swung it to his left.
A flash of sickly green light shot toward him—
The blade intercepted it just in time.
The Killing Curse veered off, striking the flames instead.
"Ambush!" Ethan shouted.
Dumbledore moved instantly, spinning to cover Ethan's back.
The two stood in the courtyard, surrounded by flames, their backs to each other, wands and sword at the ready.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. Through the dense smoke, he could sense them.
A lot of them.
Figures in scarlet robes and pointed hoods moved in the shadows, encircling them like wolves stalking prey.
But something was… off.
Ethan had fought Death Eaters before, but these figures didn't feel like them.
There was no Dark Mark on their arms. No wild fanaticism in their movements.
Instead, their presence radiated something different—something ancient.
Something that made Ethan's skin crawl.
His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.
This wasn't just a Death Eater trap.
This was something worse.
But there was no time for questions. Whoever these robed figures were, they were clearly hostile.
Ethan set his stance. Whatever came next, he would be ready.
So would Dumbledore.