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Dumbledore reached out, attempting to yank the snake's head off.
But the serpent's grip was unyielding, as if its head had fused with his hand.
With no other choice, he flicked his wand, shattering the viper's skull with a spell.
Yet even in death, its translucent fangs remained deeply embedded in his wrist.
Seeing Dumbledore bitten, the dark wizards hesitated.
Their resolve wavered, and within moments, the air was filled with the sharp cracks of Apparition.
One by one, they vanished into the shadows, unwilling to risk an encounter with Auror reinforcements.
Silence settled over the scene. Only the remains of a burning house crackled in the background.
Ethan stood beside Dumbledore, frowning at the abrupt retreat. His instincts, honed by years of hunting, warned him this could be a ruse.
Carefully, he scanned the area, his senses stretching into the darkness.
But after a thorough search, he found nothing out of the ordinary.
Turning his attention back to Dumbledore, Ethan immediately noticed the deep, bloody wound on his wrist.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"It's nothing," Dumbledore replied, pulling down his sleeve as if to dismiss the injury.
"A minor inconvenience."
Ethan nodded, not pressing the matter.
"We need to return to Hogwarts immediately," Dumbledore continued. His voice was calm, but a shadow of unease lingered in his eyes.
"Something about this doesn't add up."
In the distance, sirens wailed—a reminder that the Muggle authorities would soon arrive.
With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore extinguished the remaining flames in an instant.
The fire collapsed in on itself, shrinking until nothing remained but drifting flakes of gray-white ash, falling like snow.
"Ethan, we must go," he said, glancing around. His expression darkened.
"Strange… the Ministry hasn't sent anyone. Not even one Auror."
Then, with two sharp cracks, they Disapparated.
The next moment, they stood in the headmaster's office at Hogwarts.
To their surprise, Professor McGonagall was already there, pacing anxiously.
At their sudden arrival, she startled—but recovered in an instant.
"Dumbledore, something's happened!" she said, her voice tight with urgency. Her usual composure was gone, replaced by unmistakable panic.
Dumbledore frowned. "What is it, Minerva?"
"The Ministry of Magic just sent word—Azkaban's prisoners… they've escaped. All of them."
A heavy silence filled the room. For the first time, Ethan saw genuine shock cross Dumbledore's face.
"What?" Dumbledore demanded.
"Who escaped?"
Professor McGonagall didn't answer immediately. Instead, she placed a copy of The Daily Prophet in front of them.
"The Ministry confirmed a mass breakout last night," she said grimly.
The newspaper's front page was dominated by a single, glaring headline:
AZKABAN MASS ESCAPE—PRISONERS VANISH OVERNIGHT!
The front page of The Daily Prophet was covered with black-and-white moving photographs—mostly of wizards, though a few witches were among them.
Some smirked arrogantly, tapping the borders of their frames, while others sneered in eerie silence.
Below each photo, a name was etched, accompanied by the crimes that had led to their imprisonment in Azkaban.
Ethan's eyes scanned the images, quickly recognizing some of the prisoners from his previous visit to the fortress..
And even the most recent captives—Old Crabbe, Old Goyle, and, to his mild surprise, Dolores Umbridge.
His gaze moved lower, landing on an article featuring Minister Cornelius Fudge.
In an interview from his office, Fudge confirmed that ten high-risk criminals had escaped the night before and that he had already informed the Muggle Prime Minister about the potential danger.
"It is most unfortunate that we find ourselves in such a predicament," Fudge had stated.
"According to the Aurors' preliminary findings, an escape of this scale could not have occurred without inside help. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has launched a full investigation into the matter."
Ethan scoffed. Typical political evasion. Fudge had said a lot—but in reality, he had said nothing at all.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, remained deep in thought. Then, his expression hardened.
"Minerva," he said, turning to Professor McGonagall, "see to it that no student leaves Hogwarts until further notice. Ensure that all professors intensify their patrols as well."
McGonagall nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"Of course, Albus."
Ethan, however, had made up his mind.
"Sorry, Dumbledore, but I need to head to the Ministry. They'll be in chaos right now, and I need to see this for myself."
"Go on, Ethan," Dumbledore said without hesitation.
But just as Ethan was about to leave, Dumbledore winced. His hand instinctively moved to his wounded wrist, his face briefly contorted in pain.
"Dumbledore, are you sure you're alright?" Ethan asked, narrowing his eyes.
"It's nothing," Dumbledore replied, though his voice was slightly strained.
"Just a minor injury."
Ethan wasn't convinced. His keen senses detected the faint scent of blood—but beneath it, something else. Something unfamiliar.
Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out three small vials, placing them on the desk.
One contained white honey, another held pure White Raffard's, and the last,a Swallow.
"Take these," Ethan said simply.
Dumbledore examined them for a moment, then gave a small, knowing smile.
"Thank you, Ethan. I will use them wisely."
With that, Ethan bid farewell and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing in a flash of green flames.
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The Ministry of Magic
The moment Ethan emerged from the Floo Network, all eyes turned to him.
A murmur spread through the crowded atrium as Ministry workers whispered among themselves. Some looked startled, others wary.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan noticed several employees hastily retreating into nearby offices. Suspicious.
Before he could dwell on it, a familiar voice called out—
"Professor Ethan!"
He turned to find Penelope Clearwater rushing toward him, her face flushed with urgency.
"Where have you been?" she demanded.
"Everyone's been looking for you! Azkaban—there was a mass breakout!"
"I know," Ethan replied calmly.
"That's why I'm here."
Penelope hesitated, glancing around uneasily. Then, lowering her voice, she pulled him aside.
"Ethan," she murmured, "after the escape, Fudge became convinced that there was a traitor among the Aurors stationed at Azkaban. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement immediately launched an internal investigation."
Ethan's expression darkened.
Penelope bit her lip before continuing, "They couldn't reach you… so now, they suspect you."
For the first time, Ethan felt a flicker of irritation. But before he could respond, Penelope quickly added,
"Of course, I don't believe them! I know you'd never—"
"I believe you, Penelope," Ethan reassured her, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.
"But let's see what they have to say."
At that moment, a group of Aurors approached. Leading them was Rufus Scrimgeour, his lion-like mane of hair as imposing as ever.
"Mr. Ethan," Scrimgeour said, his voice grave.
"You need to come with us. We have some questions."
Ethan exhaled slowly.
This was going to be interesting.