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Under the piercing gazes of everyone present, Ethan stepped into the conference room with deliberate composure.
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the faint rustle of cloaks as every Auror turned their eyes toward him.
Ethan scanned the crowd calmly, his gaze unwavering as it met each face. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold and deliberate.
"The investigation into yesterday's Quidditch World Cup attack has yielded results," he said, his words slicing through the silence like a blade.
The room tensed. Every Auror leaned forward slightly, their attention riveted on Ethan, eager to hear what he had uncovered.
"It was the Death Eaters who planned and executed the attack," Ethan said softly.
The effect was instantaneous. Whispers erupted like a low hum, spreading across the room as Aurors exchanged uneasy glances.
The words Death Eaters hung in the air like a curse.
"But, Mr. Ethan," Amelia Bones interrupted, raising her hand with precision. Her voice was calm but firm.
"Most of the Death Eaters are imprisoned in Azkaban or under the Imperius Curse. What motive would they have to stage such an attack now?"
Her question carried weight, her reasoning sharp.
"Oh, they have a reason," Ethan replied, his tone unyielding, his following words detonating like a bomb.
"Voldemort commanded it. He is not dead."
The silence that followed was deafening, an unnatural stillness gripping the room. Then, chaos erupted.
Shocked voices rose in waves as Aurors debated, their disbelief spilling in hurried whispers and exclamations.
Meanwhile, unnoticed by most, the Magical Crisis Response Team led by Penelope Clearwater and a select group of trustworthy Aurors under Tonks moved into position, discreetly blocking all exits.
When the commotion subsided, Amelia Bones raised her hand again, her expression stern and skeptical.
"Mr. Ethan, is your information reliable? As far as we know, the Dark Lord was confirmed dead."
Ethan met her gaze, unflinching.
"This conclusion is the result of a thorough and rigorous investigation. Headmaster Dumbledore himself has verified it."
The mention of Dumbledore's name caused several Aurors to exchange uneasy looks. His credibility was unimpeachable in the wizarding world.
If Dumbledore believed it, it had to be true.
Uncertainty and fear rippled through the room. The Aurors, accustomed to the relative peace of recent years, now found themselves staring down the shadow of the Dark Lord once again.
Ethan seized the moment. "There is some good news," he continued.
"Lucius Malfoy has provided us with a list of individuals who have reconnected with Voldemort personally."
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a thin piece of parchment, holding it aloft. Every pair of eyes in the room locked onto the paper as though it were a relic of dark magic.
"This is why I've called you here today," Ethan said, his voice hardening to steel.
"The information has not yet leaked. We will act immediately to apprehend these traitors before they can disappear."
The tension in the room was palpable as Ethan unfolded the parchment and began to read, his voice cold and emotionless.
"Alecto Carrow. Amycus Carrow. Walton Macnair. Corban Yaxley."
A collective gasp swept through the room at the sound of those names.
Recognition dawned on several faces; these were no ordinary wizards—they were notorious even among Death Eaters.
Ethan's eyes swept the room as he folded the parchment again.
"Please be sure to prepare yourself. We strike now."
The Aurors nodded, their expressions steeled with grim determination. The storm had returned, and they would face it together.
Cobain Yaxley was a high-ranking official at the Ministry of Magic, a trusted figure through whom countless classified matters had passed.
The revelation that he had also taken refuge with Voldemort stunned the room. It was a betrayal no one had seen coming.
Ethan's voice broke the heavy atmosphere as he continued reading the list.
"Avery, Nott, Old Crabbe, Old Goyle…"
The names of these former Death Eaters stirred little reaction among the Aurors. Most of them were already known for their dark affiliations, and their presence on the list was hardly surprising.
Then Ethan uttered a name that caused visible discomfort among the gathered Aurors.
"Dolores Umbridge."
The air grew tense as frowns appeared on several faces. Umbridge was universally disliked—a sentiment amplified by her shrill voice and authoritarian demeanor.
When Fudge had appointed her to the Centaur Liaison Office, many had rejoiced at her demotion, relieved to no longer endure her incessant presence.
Her betrayal, however, was unexpected. It seemed her ambition knew no bounds.
Dissatisfied with her current position, Umbridge had aligned herself with Voldemort, hoping for greater power and longevity under his rule.
Ethan paused momentarily, his gaze lingering on the final name on the list. He spoke it with deliberate weight.
"Pierce Sinkenis."
The reaction was immediate. Seated among the Aurors, Pierce leapt to his feet as though stung. His wand was already in his hand, poised to cast a spell.
But the Aurors around him reacted faster. In an instant, they tackled him. Hands grabbed his arms, his waist, and his wand hand.
One Auror clamped a hand over his mouth to prevent him from speaking incantations while another pried his wand from his fingers with considerable effort.
"Enough! Let me handle this!" growled Moody, striding forward. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a pair of handcuffs, fastening Pierce's hands behind his back with practiced ease.
"I didn't expect this from you, Pierce," Moody muttered, his voice low and tinged with disgust.
Pierce, however, was undeterred.
"Long live the Dark Lord! You'll all die soon!" he screamed, his voice wild with fanaticism.
Moody's brow furrowed deeply at the outburst.
Without hesitation, he stepped closer and began a thorough examination.
He pried open Pierce's eyelids, scrutinizing them with unsettling precision.
He then forced open Pierce's mouth, inspecting his tongue with equal disregard for decorum.
The surrounding Aurors exchanged uneasy glances. Despite Pierce's betrayal, many thought Moody's actions bordered on excessive.
But Moody suddenly froze and then barked, "The Imperius Curse! He's been placed under the Imperius!"
The declaration drew the Aurors closer, their initial skepticism giving way to curiosity.
Pierce, now restrained and silenced, thrashed in frustration.
His muffled attempts to shout only resulted in angry, incoherent noises.
"I can break the curse right now!" Moody declared, drawing his wand to free Pierce from the spell.
"No," Ethan interjected firmly.
"We'll lift it in a moment. I need to question him first."
Moody hesitated, then gave a curt nod. With a wave of his wand, he cast a binding spell on Pierce, ensuring he couldn't move or speak further.
Pierce's furious eyes darted around the room, but his struggles were in vain. Moody pushed him to the side, securing him for later interrogation.
The room grew still again, the moment's weight pressing down on everyone.
The betrayal within their ranks and the looming threat of Voldemort's return felt too close, too real.
Yet there was no time for doubt. Ethan's calm authority and clear plan left no room for hesitation.
The Aurors steeled themselves. The battle against darkness was far from over.