Ministry of Magic Atrium.
"Whoosh!"
Emerald green flames erupted.
Dawlish tumbled out with a thud, drawing astonished stares from the surrounding Ministry employees.
In that moment, his appearance could only be described as utterly disheveled.
His hair was plastered to his scalp, slick with sweat.
His face was pale from exhaustion, and he was gasping for breath.
His once-neat Auror uniform now looked as if it had been ravaged by a category-eight hurricane, completely rumpled.
"Ah, isn't that the Auror who tried to arrest Ethan Vincent?"
"Hmph, he can't even tell right from wrong. He's an Auror in name only—the same type who arrested Sirius without a second thought back then, right?"
Overhearing the whispers around him, Dawlish gritted his teeth, dark thoughts swirling in his mind:
What do any of you know!
That kid... he's a more terrifying presence than You-Know-Who ever was!
He's practically inhuman!
Just recalling the scene of blinding radiance illuminating everything, with countless cobalt-blue eyes opening, sent a shiver of fear through Dawlish.
It was like stumbling into a graveyard late at night, with a cold breeze brushing against his bare ankles.
Ethan Vincent is pure evil!
He had to tell Minister Fudge right away.
The esteemed Minister for Magic would surely be different from these clueless Ministry workers.
He would believe him and stand against this evil together!
With that thought, a fire ignited in Dawlish's eyes.
He scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the Minister's office!
He didn't notice the golden bird—a small creature that had no business being underground—flapping its wings and circling above his head.
Its black eyes reflected his frantic figure.
"Whose magical creation is this?" someone spotted it and exclaimed. "It's so beautiful... it looks so bright and holy at first glance."
Meanwhile, inside the Minister for Magic's office, the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, was sweating buckets as he packed his luggage.
Drawers had been yanked open and lay overturned on the floor.
Documents scattered everywhere like snowflakes.
Minister Fudge bustled among them like a diligent old bee.
Earlier, the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree display of Pettigrew's gruesome fate on the water screen had chilled everyone to the bone!
No one had anticipated such a massive reversal in a case that had been sealed shut years ago!
"To broadcast the entire process of Pettigrew's crimes right in front of everyone... and then immediately 'sentence' the culprit, leaving no room for recovery..."
"What a ruthless move! So decisive!"
Minister Fudge gnashed his teeth, muttering bitterly.
A wave of horror welled up in his heart.
How did that kid uncover the truth from back then?
And when had he started scheming all this?
It felt like an invisible eye was watching from above, manipulating the entire situation.
"But you still overlooked one thing, Ethan Vincent!"
Minister Fudge slammed his suitcase shut, a smug grin spreading across his face.
"As long as I 'retire due to illness' and shove a scapegoat into the spotlight..."
"Sure, I'll face some backlash, but once things cool down, I can smoothly reclaim my position as Minister for Magic!"
As for the scapegoat... hehe, wasn't there still that dim-witted "righteous Auror"?
Ethan Vincent, you're still too naive to bring me down!
Just then, Minister Fudge suddenly froze.
Instinctively, he glanced up at the closed door.
It was as if an unseen chill was seeping silently through the crack, brushing against his neck and raising goosebumps.
Wh-what's happening?
Minister Fudge swallowed hard.
For some reason, a sudden unease gripped him.
N-nothing... this is the Ministry of Magic!
It's the most secure place in the entire wizarding world, aside from Gringotts!
His office door was fortified with powerful enchantments.
Unless opened from the inside, it was impossible to force it from the outside!
He waited rigidly for a moment.
When nothing happened, Minister Fudge exhaled in relief and chuckled, "Just scaring myself."
Before he could finish the thought,
"Oh dear~"
The door creaked open, revealing a pitch-black gap.
?!
H-how is this possible?!
In an instant, Minister Fudge's heart stopped, his blood turning to ice!
He stood frozen in place, staring blankly as the gap widened.
His hands and feet went numb, refusing to move.
He suddenly realized that the surroundings had fallen into complete silence at some point.
A deathly quiet.
The sounds of Ministry employees rushing about, the faint whir of elevators ascending and descending... all gone.
The next second,
"Whoosh—"
Outside the window, a crimson curtain suddenly descended over the view!
It splashed a layer of scarlet across the indoor furnishings, as if everything were submerged in blood.
Swish—
Cobalt-blue eyes opened from within the blood-red curtain outside the window, rolling around.
Finally, they all fixed on him.
"M-m-m..."
Minister Fudge began trembling uncontrollably, his teeth chattering loudly.
He let out a incoherent whimper.
Was he still in the wizarding world?! How had he ended up in a horror story?!
The pitch-black door gap slowly widened further.
From within, a voice that Minister Fudge knew all too well emerged:
"Minister..."
As the word hung in the air, a hand pierced with thorns reached out!
In that instant, Minister Fudge's soul nearly fled his body.
The skin on the hand was ghostly pale, as if drained of all blood by the sharp thorns impaling it.
The flesh hung loosely over the bones, like a deflated rubber glove.
The arm inched forward in Minister Fudge's quivering vision, finally revealing the face of its owner—Auror John Dawlish!
...The fool he'd planned to use as a scapegoat.
At this moment, though Dawlish still resembled a human, he was crawling on the ground like a spider.
His joints were twisted unnaturally, and sharp thorns—like swords of judgment—pierced nearly every inch of his skin.
"Minister Fudge... help... it hurts so much..."
Dawlish croaked hoarsely, thorns embedded deep in his throat.
His remaining eye bulged from its socket, staring fixedly at Minister Fudge.
With one arm, he dragged his body laboriously, inching closer and closer...
"D-don't come any closer...!"
Minister Fudge whimpered weakly, collapsing onto his backside.
He scrambled desperately to move his legs, tears and snot streaming down his face.
"I'm here to report to you... about Ethan Vincent... hehehe..."
"Are you... trying to run away...?"
Dawlish grinned, two trails of bloody tears streaming from his eyes.
Ethan?
Yes! Ethan!
Just as that pale, horrifying hand was about to seize his ankle, Minister Fudge mustered every ounce of strength to bellow:
"I, I'll resign!!"
"Please, please spare me... Woo."
Tears poured from his eyes. Both his upper and lower garments were soaked.
Only now did Minister Fudge feel profound regret.
Why, of all people, had he provoked Ethan?
If he'd surrendered with a flourish earlier, he might have at least retained a ceremonial title as "Minister for Magic."
He'd actually... truly lost to a child...
Minister Fudge, unwilling yet relieved, rolled his eyes back and fainted.
When people finally reached the Minister's office, they were shocked to find their Minister for Magic and an Auror sprawled in a heap by the door!
The former's pants were drenched in an unknown liquid.
The latter had suffered a magical outburst, blood trickling from his ears, nose, and mouth.
There was no sign of forced entry on the door; Minister Fudge had opened it himself.
"W-what on earth happened...?"
"Merlin! No wonder the Minister often summoned this Auror alone... hmph, what a scandal."
"He hasn't done much real work, but he's certainly tangled up in plenty of shady dealings..."
Everyone buzzed with discussion, their eyes gleaming with gossip and contempt.
...It was time to send gifts to Mr. Scrimgeour.
This decisive, iron-fisted politician seemed far better suited to the role of Minister for Magic than Fudge ever was, right?
Recalling the black-haired youth with those grim cobalt-blue eyes from the water screen, everyone shuddered involuntarily.
As they hurriedly carted the two off to St. Mungo's, no one noticed the golden bird perched in the corner, clutching thorns from who-knows-where.
It chirped faintly, then flapped its wings and took off, dissolving into a streak of light and vanishing.
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