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Ethan glanced over, noticing the tension in Scrimgeour and the Aurors behind him.
They gripped their wands tightly, though they remained concealed within their sleeves—ready to react to any sudden move Ethan might make.
The sight both irritated and amused him.
"No problem. Where are we going?" Ethan asked casually.
"Director Scrimgeour, I think we should handle this" Penelope suddenly stepped forward, as if to defend Ethan.
"Enough. Step aside, Miss Clearwater," Scrimgeour ordered firmly.
"Penelope, you don't have to do this," Ethan said softly.
"But thank you."
She hesitated, clearly wanting to protest, but finally stepped back at Ethan's gesture.
"Mr. Ethan, we need you to surrender your sword and wand—one at a time," Scrimgeour said again, his voice tight with unease.
Ethan studied Scrimgeour's face, his gaze steady.
"I don't think that's necessary," he said lightly.
"You know it is, Ethan. This is procedure," Scrimgeour insisted, unwilling to back down.
For a moment, Ethan held his gaze, then finally relented.
"Alright, alright."
He unstrapped the long sword from his back and pulled out his wand, handing both to Penelope.
As soon as he complied, Scrimgeour and the Aurors visibly relaxed.
"Thank you for your cooperation," Scrimgeour murmured.
"Now, please come with us."
Without explicitly surrounding him, the Aurors subtly moved into position, guiding Ethan down the corridor to an empty office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Ethan scoffed. "Interesting. I expected you to drag me into an interrogation room," he said with mock amusement.
Scrimgeour sighed. "You misunderstand. This isn't an interrogation. The mass breakout from Azkaban is serious, and we're questioning everyone. Even we've been investigated. You just happened to be absent during this period."
Ethan rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Let's get this over with—there's enough chaos outside as it is."
Scrimgeour nodded and pulled out a chair, sitting across from him.
On the desk, a black-covered notebook rested.
With two taps of his finger, it sprang open, and a self-writing quill floated into the air, ready to record.
Scrimgeour leaned forward. "Ethan, you recently visited Azkaban and met with Bellatrix Lestrange, correct?"
"Yes. But everything was done lawfully, with Alastor Moody, Dumbledore, and several others as witnesses." Ethan's tone remained calm.
Scrimgeour muttered something under his breath, flipping through the notebook.
"And what have you been doing in the past few days? More specifically—last night?"
"I've been training my students for the Triwizard Tournament. Anyone at Hogwarts can confirm that," Ethan replied evenly.
Scrimgeour nodded, making a note.
"And last night?"
Ethan leaned back. "I was with Dumbledore, destroying a Horcrux of Voldemort's. You can ask him yourself."
The room fell into silence. Scrimgeour's eyes widened in shock as he stared at Ethan, scrutinizing his face, as if trying to determine whether he was joking.
"Alright, thank you, Ethan. We just need to verify a few things—please wait here for a moment," Scrimgeour said.
With that, he stood up, grabbed the black-covered notebook, and quickly left the office.
Ethan's treatment noticeably improved after that.
Several house-elves arrived, bringing coffee and desserts.
Relaxing in his chair, he sipped his coffee and enjoyed the unexpected treat.
Before long, Scrimgeour returned, practically jogging into the office.
"Ethan, the investigation is complete. Everything checks out—you're clear. Thank you for your cooperation," Scrimgeour said.
"You're free to go."
Ethan had no intention of lingering any longer. Without hesitation, he gathered his things and stepped out of the office.
The moment he did, he spotted Penelope standing by the door, holding his sword.
She looked anxious, but as soon as she saw him, she let out a long breath of relief and smiled.
"Professor Ethan! You're alright!" she said, visibly relieved.
"Thank you for your concern, Penelope," Ethan replied with a nod.
Then, his expression turned serious.
"I need to get to Azkaban."
Penelope quickly alerted the rest of the team, and with a crackling pop, Ethan and the Magic Crisis Response Team Disapparated from the Ministry corridor—
—And arrived at the outskirts of Azkaban.
The sight before them was grim. A massive breach gaped in the side of Azkaban's stone tower, the jagged edges of the broken wall standing as silent proof of the escape.
"Looks like the Death Eaters broke out from there," Ethan muttered.
"Hey! Who are you? Get out of here! Don't tamper with the crime scene!"
A sharp voice interrupted them. A young Auror strode toward them, attempting to block their path.
But as soon as he got a clear look at Ethan, recognition dawned on his face.
"Ah! Mr. Ethan! Hello!"
The Auror's tone shifted instantly from authoritative to nervous respect.
Ethan gave him a mild nod.
"Hello."
That was when Ethan noticed the Auror's arm—it was wrapped in a sling, clearly injured.
"You were here when the prisoners escaped?" Ethan asked.
The young Auror swallowed hard and nodded.
"Yes. It was terrifying."
Even as he spoke, a slight tremor ran through him, as if the memory still haunted him.
"What did you see?" Ethan asked carefully.
"I was delivering meals to the prisoners in the light-security ward when I heard a loud explosion. It was chaos upstairs."
The Auror's eyes darted toward the ruined tower.
"There were shouts, spells flying—fighting. And then the prisoners in the lower ward started rioting. That's when I realized—someone had broken out."
He continued recounting what he had witnessed, his words spilling out in rapid detail.
Ethan listened attentively—until the Auror explained how he had gotten injured.
Not in battle. Not in a fight.
No, the poor fool had panicked so badly that he tripped over his own cart and managed to break his arm in the process.
Ethan stared at him for a moment, then exhaled sharply.
"Seriously?"
The Auror turned red.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Ethan motioned for his team to move forward.
They made their way up to the top floor—the high-security ward where the Death Eaters had been imprisoned.
The scene remained untouched.
The aftermath of the battle was laid bare—shattered walls, scorch marks from spellfire, and worst of all, fallen Aurors who had made their last stand against the escaping prisoners.
Ethan stepped over the rubble, his gaze hardening.
"This is where it happened," he murmured.
"Let's find out exactly how."