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Chapter 153 - Mayhem in Wizengamot (2)

The eyes of the entire Wizengamot shifted to the man, a Lord and member of the Wizengamot, who had fired that spell. He was a portly, middle aged man. 

As every eye in the hall remained focused on him, the man continued to stand there with a still face, devoid of expression. His demeanor was far too calm, almost unsettling.

It did not seem as though he had actually done anything at all. If not for his raised wand, most people in the council hall would not have been certain that he was the one who had fired the spell.

"Lord Cammond?" Someone finally questioned. "What is this? Why would you do this?"

"Head Auror Alastor Moody was our best bet," the voice almost snapped. "Have you gone mad? Do you even know what you did just now?"

Alastor Moody, on the other hand, let out a couple of grunts as he forced himself to stand back up, the ministry officials sitting next to him giving him support. 

His left hand was clenching his chest where the spell had struck, while his right hand still clutched his wand. He felt as if he had cracked a couple of ribs, thanks to the double blow of the spell's impact and being smashed against the chair. The injury was nothing serious. A couple of spells and a few days of rest and he would be absolutely fine.

However, in the present, the two cracked ribs had surely damaged his ability to fight. His mobility was going to be affected, as was the speed at which he could cast spells.

An expression of pure rage had formed on his face and his eyes were burning with fire and they were staring directly at Lord Cammond demanding explanations. 

With every eye focused on Lord Cammond as they waited for him to explain the meaning behind his actions, he finally moved. With slow, deliberate, and measured steps, he began to descend toward the well of the council hall. Quite a few Lords and spectators expected that the Death Eaters would react or, worse, attack Lord Cammond, but none of the dozen Death Eaters made a move. They remained standing exactly where they were.

"Did you betray us all?" Another voice questioned. "Lord Cammond?"

"All this time, your opposition to the Death Eaters has been a mere facade? You have been fooling us the entire time?" The Voice questioned. "All this was a ploy to fool us?"

The expressions of those present in the hall had morphed into pure surprise. Lord Cammond had been one of the prominent voices speaking in opposition to the Death Eaters. He had been fearless and relentless in his criticism of the Death Eaters, their ideology and their actions. 

The Cammond family, politically and economically, was not particularly powerful. It was a mid-tier family. 

But Lord Cammond as an individual was widely respected. He had the image of a righteous intellectual and was one of the rare few viewed as an honest man across Wizarding Britain. He was someone who was not entrenched in the dirty waters of politics and political play always looking to secure personal benefits. He had always advocated for the genuine betterment of Wizarding Britain.

Now, seeing him in cahoots with Death Eaters had come as a shocking blow to everyone present in the hall. 

Meanwhile, the Lords of the Wizengamot who were also Death Eaters were equally confused. They were almost certain that Lord Cammond was not a Death Eater. They had never seen him at any of the meetings and gatherings. And if he had been, why would he reveal himself in front of the whole world?

True, there were quite a few Death Eaters among the members of the council and many sympathizers in the outside world, but they knew they could not show themselves in the open. 

There might be overwhelming support for the pure blood ideology, but for their actions? Not so much. No one wanted to live in a reign of terror where any shop or establishment could be attacked at any time and anyone could be killed. They understood their reality. 

Lord Cammond finally reached the center of the Well, his eyes narrowing as he gazed around the entire hall, as if taking every single person into account.

"Lord Cammond," someone questioned again. "What is the meaning of this? What are you trying to achieve?"

Antonio narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on the man standing so preposterously in the center of the hall. Call it the blessing of Magic herself, but he could sense that something was different about the man. He could feel it. He could tell the truth. 

"Has he been placed under the Imperius Curse?" someone else asked. 

This question set every mind in the room buzzing. To many, this seemed a much more probable scenario than Lord Cammond betraying them.

"No," Antonio interjected, his powerful voice cutting through the silence of the hall. "It is not the Imperius Curse."

"It is Polyjuice Potion," he added, shocking the crowd. "This man is not Lord Cammond. He is someone else."

'He is the Dark Lord,' Antonio added in his mind, though he did not say it out loud.

"Not Lord Cammond?" someone muttered incoherently.

"Antonio Olario," the man in Cammond's form, finally broke his silence. "I have been looking for you."

As he finished his sentence, his figure started to blur. In a matter of moments, the true face of the man came into the full view of the Wizengamot. 

He was tall, with a skeletally thin figure and pale, skull-like skin. He had no hair and no lips. His most prominent features included vivid scarlet eyes with cat-like slit pupils and a flat, snake-like nose with slits for nostrils. His hands were long-fingered and spider-like.

Only a very few people, mostly Death Eaters, were familiar with that face. But it did not matter. Everyone recognized him. Everyone had heard the tales of the man. Everyone knew of the man. His mere presence was enough to reveal his identity. The Dark Lord. Voldemort.

The sudden appearance of the Dark Lord caused a wave of pure horror and shock to surge through the Wizengamot hall. Whatever they had felt until now was nothing compared to what they were feeling at this moment. If their blood had turned cold at the appearance of the Death Eaters, it had now turned to ice.

"I, too, have been looking for you," Antonio muttered, his voice turning ice-cold. "Voldemort."

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