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Unlike the enemies they had faced before, these dark wizards were well-organized, moving with calculated precision.
More importantly, they seemed to know his strengths—keeping their distance to avoid engaging him in melee combat.
A barrage of sinister spells shot toward Ethan. He twisted and dodged with practiced agility, narrowly avoiding several curses.
But with so many attackers, some spells inevitably struck his Quinn Shield.
To his surprise, they didn't dissipate upon impact like ordinary spells.
Instead, dark tendrils of magic clung to the shield, corroding it with a sinister hiss.
Ethan's expression darkened. These wizards weren't amateurs.
Without hesitation, he pulled out his crossbow and fired at them.
But the bolts barely made a dent—their Protego shields rippled upon impact before sending the arrows clattering harmlessly to the ground.
Ethan's grip tightened. They came prepared.
"It's an ambush!" Dumbledore's voice rang out.
With a swift motion of his wand, he conjured a towering wave of fire that fed on the burning house.
The flames roared forward, forcing the dark wizards to scatter.
Their tight formation splintered, leaving an opening.
Ethan seized the moment, hurling several small bombs into the fray.
Some wizards reacted quickly, blasting the projectiles away with defensive spells. But not all were so lucky.
A series of deafening explosions rocked the battlefield. Shrapnel tore through the air, and several dark wizards crumpled, their robes now slick with blood.
In the distance, the shrill wail of Muggle fire trucks cut through the night.
Ethan and Dumbledore exchanged grim looks. If the Muggles arrived at the scene, this would escalate into a much bigger problem.
Just then, Fawkes appeared on Dumbledore's shoulder in a burst of golden fire.
The headmaster murmured something to the phoenix, who let out a sharp cry before vanishing into the night.
"I've sent Fawkes for reinforcements," Dumbledore informed Ethan.
But before they could regroup, a new complication arrived—Muggle firefighters.
A group of them rushed in, dragging hoses toward the burning ruins.
The young leader—a fresh-faced boy with a pimpled nose—paused upon seeing the oddly dressed crowd.
He hesitated for only a moment before calling out, assuming they were locals.
"Gentlemen, please step back! This area is too dangerous—"
"Avada—!"
A dark wizard flicked his wand, showing no hesitation at all.
Ethan and Dumbledore barely had time to react before the green light cut through the smoke-filled air.
The young firefighter gasped as the Killing Curse struck, his body crumpling lifelessly. His companions had no time to flee.
A deep, seething fury settled over Dumbledore's face.
With a single wave of his wand, the stone gargoyle statues perched at the gate lurched to life.
Their eyes flared with an eerie glow as they leapt forward, crashing into the dark wizards like living battering rams.
Several enemies were thrown to the ground, bones snapping on impact. The battlefield was no longer just a fight—it had turned into a reckoning.
Before the attack had even ended, Dumbledore lashed his wand like a whip.
A thin, fiery tendril erupted from its tip, crackling as it slashed through the air.
The searing lash struck the dark wizards with brutal force.
This time, Dumbledore held nothing back—several wizards were cleaved cleanly in half, their bodies collapsing in smoldering heaps.
Ethan seized the opportunity, drawing the Sword of the Lady of the Lake and charging straight into the fray.
The nearest dark wizards turned their wands on him, spells already forming at their lips—but they were too slow.
With a flick of his blade, Ethan severed their wand-holding hands at the wrist.
Blood spurted in violent arcs, yet their remaining allies showed no hesitation.
Ignoring their wounded comrades, they unleashed a relentless barrage of Killing Curses.
Ethan ducked and wove through the deadly green streaks, some so close that he felt the eerie chill of near-death brush his scalp.
Then, in a swift motion, he raised his sword high and brought it down—slicing clean through a dark wizard's gut.
The wizard let out a guttural scream as his intestines spilled onto the ground.
Desperately, he tried to shove them back in with trembling hands, but it was a futile effort.
Ethan gave him a final mercy, swinging his blade once more and severing his head from his shoulders.
"Igni!"
A blast of fire erupted from Ethan's hand, forcing back the dark wizards attempting to encircle him.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore's assault continued with deadly precision.
A serpent-like flame, thick as a python, slithered through the battlefield, striking down any enemy who dared approach.
The dark wizards had no chance to close in—each attempt met with a scorching demise.
The tide of battle had shifted. Victory was within reach.
But then, the dark wizard leading the ambush stepped forward, his face twisted with grim determination.
With a sharp breath, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing a crystal armband engraved with a serpent.
He raised his wand and tapped the band.
Immediately, the engraved snake came to life.
It slithered around his arm before sinking its fangs deep into his flesh, draining his blood with terrifying speed.
The wizard gasped in pain, his face draining of color, his arm turning a sickly gray-white.
Yet he did not resist—he endured it, teeth clenched, allowing the serpent to drink.
The other dark wizards took a cautious step back. They did not dare come near.
At last, the crystal snake released its grip, its scarlet eyes glowing like molten rubies.
With a sudden, unnatural speed, it launched itself at Dumbledore.
Dumbledore reacted instantly, his wand moving in a blur of motion.
"Confringo!"
A shattering spell struck the serpent mid-air, exploding it into countless crystal shards.
For a brief moment, silence hung over the battlefield.
Then—pain.
A searing, unbearable sting erupted from Dumbledore's wrist. His vision blurred as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.
When he looked down, his breath caught.
Though the crystal serpent's body was destroyed, its severed head still clung to his wrist.
Its fangs were buried deep, locked in a death grip.
And it was still very much alive.