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"What do you think you're doing? After destroying one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, you still dare to align yourself with the Death Eaters?" Ethan's voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Lucius.
"What?" Lucius gasped, his expression a mix of shock and indignation.
"You and Dumbledore destroyed the diary! That has nothing to do with me!" he snapped, anger flaring in his voice.
"If our negotiations fail, the Daily Prophet will carry quite the story tomorrow morning," Ethan said grimly, a dark smirk tugging at his lips.
"You're framing me! You can't do this!" Lucius's face paled, the realization hitting him like a brick wall. Such accusations in print would make him a target—an outcast even among the Death Eaters.
"Framing you?" Ethan feigned surprise, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Why, Lucius, I'm offering you an extraordinary honor! Dumbledore and I agreed you deserve the credit for destroying that Horcrux. You should be thanking us."
"Thank you?" Lucius growled through clenched teeth.
"Why don't you enjoy the credit yourself?"
But his anger quickly gave way to desperation. His voice softened, pleading.
"Ethan, please. You can't do this. If that story goes out, the Death Eaters will come after my family."
Ethan's expression hardened, though his voice remained calm.
"Your family will be fine. I'll personally arrange for their protection."
Lucius opened his mouth to protest, but Ethan cut him off.
"Don't let fear cloud your judgment, Lucius. Think carefully. The Death Eaters are finished. Voldemort's time is over. Dumbledore and I have made significant progress in dismantling his Horcruxes. The Dark Lord failed to act before, and he won't succeed this time either. His end is inevitable."
"You don't understand!" Lucius retorted, his voice trembling.
"The Death Eaters are not just pawns; they're powerful, and their loyalty isn't easily shaken."
Ethan leaned in, his tone colder now. "Trust me, Lucius. After tonight, there will be far fewer Death Eaters left to worry about."
A cruel smile played on his lips, his eyes gleaming like sharp blades.
"You mean—" Lucius's breath hitched as his mind raced. His eyes widened in realization.
"You already know the Death Eaters are planning something? Do you have a mole? Has someone betrayed them? Are they all going to be—"
"Enough!" Ethan snapped, cutting off the torrent of questions.
"This isn't about them. We're discussing you."
Lucius inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself. His thoughts churned. If someone within their ranks had betrayed Voldemort, and the Ministry was ready to strike, then everything was already in motion.
And yet... why was Ethan here, talking to him?
It must be about his family. Their influence. Their name.
Lucius's mind wrestled with the truth he didn't want to admit: Voldemort's defeat was no longer a matter of "if" but "when." Slowly, he began to accept it.
Under the combined might of Dumbledore and Ethan, Lucius came to a grim conclusion: even Voldemort would struggle against such a formidable duo.
And with a large number of Death Eaters doomed to die tonight, it was clear that Dumbledore had taken the first decisive step to bring about Voldemort's downfall.
Lucius sighed heavily, the weight of his resistance crumbling at last.
"Ethan," he said, his voice subdued, "I'll cooperate. What do you need me to do?"
"Good! I knew you'd come to your senses," Ethan replied, finally pulling the dagger away from Lucius's neck.
Only then did Lucius notice the sharp sting on his skin. He touched his neck and felt warm blood on his fingers.
"You cut me!" he exclaimed, glaring at Ethan.
"Don't be so dramatic. It's just a scratch," Ethan said with a dismissive wave.
Without further debate, they moved on to the details of Lucius's recruitment.
"You'll need to write a complete list of every Death Eater you know. Complete, Lucius. If you leave anyone out, that person might come after your wife and son for revenge," Ethan warned, his tone cold and deliberate.
"Next, take your wife and son to Hogwarts immediately. Dumbledore will see to their safety," he added.
Lucius nodded, dazed and preoccupied. He was already mentally combing through the names of Death Eaters, trying not to forget a single one. His family's survival depended on it.
Without waiting for further instructions, Lucius grabbed his wand from the ground and stumbled off into the night, ignoring the sting of his wound. His only thought was to secure his wife and son before it was too late.
Now that Lucius was dealt with, Ethan turned his attention to the group of rioting Death Eaters nearby.
Emerging from the shadows of the forest, Ethan saw a cluster of wizards moving in unison. They wore black robes and pointed hoods, their faces obscured. Cowards hiding behind anonymity, doing Voldemort's bidding.
Above them, four figures floated helplessly in the air, their bodies twisted into grotesque shapes. The unseen threads of magic connecting them to the Death Eaters' wands made them look like grotesque marionettes.
Two of the victims were small—children.
As the floating group passed a burning tent, the firelight illuminated their faces. Ethan's stomach churned. One was Mr. Roberts, the camp manager. The other three were his wife and children.
A masked wizard below flicked his wand, causing Mrs. Roberts to flip upside down. Her pajamas slipped, revealing a cascade of mismatched undergarments.
The Death Eaters roared with laughter, their jeers echoing in the dark.
The youngest child, suspended high in the air, spun like a top. His small body flailed uncontrollably, his head lolling limply from side to side.
Ethan's expression darkened. His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with rage. If anyone had been beside him, they would have recoiled at the sheer ferocity in his face. In that moment, Ethan was no longer a man; he was a predator, poised to strike.
He advanced quickly toward the Death Eaters. Nearby, a group of Aurors—led by Penelope Clearwater—stood frozen. There were seven others with her, all young and newly recruited. Their faces were pale and grim.
As Muggle-borns, watching this spectacle filled them with a deep, visceral disgust. But fear held them back; they dared not move closer, worried that the floating Muggles might fall.
Ethan barked orders as he joined them. "Prepare the Levitation Charm! When I engage, secure the Muggles, one by one."
Hearing his authoritative tone, the Aurors snapped out of their hesitation and began readying themselves.
But before Ethan could act, disaster struck.
One of the Death Eaters fumbled, losing control of his magic.
The youngest Muggle child plummeted.
The fall was so sudden, so unexpected, that even Ethan—quick as he was—couldn't stop it in time.
A piercing scream cut through the night, followed by a sickening thud as the boy hit the ground.
For a moment, everything froze.
Then Ethan's fury erupted, an unstoppable force that would not rest until justice was served.