"The Weasley family is dueling the Malfoys!" someone in the crowd exclaimed.
"It's not the whole family! It's just one of the sons, and one of the youngest!"
"By Merlin... are they going to kill him?"
"Don't talk nonsense. Duels to the death are extremely rare and require a weighty cause... but still, the consequences of a blood challenge are unpredictable."
"It's about time!" intervened an old wizard with a long silver beard, whose eyes shone with nostalgic excitement. "A true and noble battle between wizards, just like the old days. Justice the old-fashioned way!"
The clamor in the Atrium was deafening, but when Fudge tried to catch his breath to discredit the challenge, his words were drowned out by the roar of a community that, for an instant, had remembered the old laws. Although the physical chaos subsided, the atmosphere remained thick.
It was at that precise moment that Arthur Weasley—returning from a field investigation with his robes somewhat worn and briefcase in hand—crossed the entrance arches to find such a scene of crisis.
"What is going on here?" Arthur asked an employee near the periphery of the crowd.
The man turned, ready to repeat the gossip for the hundredth time, but upon recognizing Arthur's face, he froze. His eyes widened excessively, and the words stuck in his throat.
"Hello? Are you alright?" Arthur insisted, tilting his head with that confused kindness that characterized him.
The effect spread like a wave. The people around him turned one by one; expressions of wonder and nervousness fell upon him like a slab. Silence forced its way in violently, followed by a hissing murmur that swept through the Atrium: "It's him... it's the father." Arthur felt a pang of anxiety in his chest; he knew that look—it was the look he received when something in his department went terribly wrong.
"Arthur Weasley!" Fudge roared upon spotting him, pointing an accusing finger as if Arthur were the mastermind behind the fire. "Do you have any idea what your son has done?!"
"Mr. Minister..." Arthur shrank instinctively, feeling the weight of hundreds of gazes. His mind, accustomed to domestic troubles, flew immediately to his greatest sin. "If this is about the flying car incident... I'll destroy it. I'll send the remains to the Ministry tomorrow morning if necessary," he said with a trace of pain in his voice; that car was his treasure, but his family's livelihood depended on this job.
"Do you think we care about your stupid Muggle toy?!" Fudge shouted, advancing toward him with momentum. "The investigation into that junk is still ongoing, but your children won't stop trampling on the dignity of this institution! Do you not know how to educate them? You should have that demon under lock and key!"
Arthur paled, but his paternal instinct activated immediately. If they attacked him, he bowed his head; if they attacked his children, he stood firm.
"Minister, Ron can be a bit impulsive, I know, but he's a good boy and he's only a—" he began to defend him, trying to understand what new madness his youngest son might have committed at Hogwarts.
"No one cares about your other troublemaker son!" one of Fudge's secretaries spat with contempt.
"They aren't talking about Ron?" Arthur murmured to himself, blinking in confusion. Fear gave way to a tired resignation. "Then... was it Fred and George?" he asked tensely. In his mind, his twin sons were the only ones capable of generating a commotion of such magnitude at the Ministry.
Arthur prepared himself to receive news of an explosion, a practical joke, or an assault on a high official's office. He was not prepared for the truth that was about to hit him.
"Do you really not know?! Do you have no authority whatsoever over your children?! Perhaps your entire family should be sent to Azkaban to learn some discipline!" the Minister roared, forcing his voice to portray Arthur as a negligent father before the crowd. "We are talking about your other son, the one with that blood-red hair! We are talking about Red Weasley!"
"Red?" Arthur blinked, his face transforming into a mask of absolute confusion. For a second, a bolt of relief crossed his eyes; he was convinced it was all a mistake. "I think you're mistaken, Mr. Minister..."
"Not at all! Everyone witnessed it. Your son came here, put on a grotesque show at the fountain, and issued a challenge to none other than Lucius Malfoy—one of the most distinguished and respected wizards in our community!" Fudge emphasized every word with his index finger, trying to inject gravity into what he considered an unpardonable offense.
"He did what?" Arthur let out a sigh, but this time he straightened up, regaining his composure completely. "Mr. Minister, I insist there is a monumental error. It could not have been my son, Red. He is not in Great Britain; he isn't even in Europe. He is currently participating in an educational exchange program at Castelobruxo, in the heart of Brazil."
He said it with such respect and certainty that the crowd wavered. Arthur wasn't trying to be defiant; he was simply stating an indisputable geographic fact to protect the Minister's dignity, even if that was the last thing Fudge deserved.
"We all saw him! No one else has that distinctive look!" Fudge repeated, refusing to accept reality. It didn't suit him for the culprit to be an impostor, at least not after his previous words; he needed it to be a Weasley.
"Then someone has usurped his identity," Arthur replied, now with a serious expression. "I myself went to see him off. You can consult Professor Dumbledore or the Portkey Office; the record of the trip he and his classmates took alongside Professor Kettleburn is there. You can even send an official message to Castelobruxo if you wish."
A sepulchral silence fell over the Atrium. Glances shifted toward the employees of the Department of Magical Transportation, who began to exchange nervous murmurs. "I think I remember a special permit for South America..." one of the Portkey technicians was heard saying.
The tension between Fudge and Arthur grew. One feared someone was dragging his son's name through the mud; the other saw his great political maneuver crumbling, leaving him looking like a tyrant who had just threatened an innocent employee based on a case of mistaken identity.
"It... it might actually be him," the receptionist suddenly exclaimed from the side, breaking the silence. "When he arrived, he confessed that the wand he carried was obtained in Brazil."
All heads turned toward her. Kingsley, who was approaching to try and stop her and contain the damage, closed his eyes in resignation. The chance to bury the matter discreetly had vanished.
"What are you waiting for?!" Fudge shouted, clutching at this new lead like a drowning man to a straw. "Go right now and verify if that boy has returned to England illegally! I want records, I want proof! Now!"
"It can't be him!" Arthur insisted, though his voice was beginning to lose its previous firmness. He didn't interfere with the investigation, but his mind refused to process that his son had crossed the ocean just to cause a stir at the Ministry. "Red wouldn't do something like that... it's a transatlantic trip, it's impossible..."
"Whether it's your son or not will be discovered soon, but in any case, explain this!" the Minister roared, slamming the challenge parchment against Arthur's chest. "Do you think this is the work of a stranger? It even bears the Weasley family seal!"
Arthur took the document with clumsy hands. His eyes roamed the neat lines, and with every word, a cold tremor began to take hold of his shoulders. As a descendant of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he was no stranger to blood protocols; he perfectly understood the technical veracity and legal complexity of what was in front of him. It was a formal treaty of challenge, impeccable, using the names of the Houses of Malfoy and Weasley with suicidal audacity.
The worst part—the thing that made the color drain completely from his face until it was ash-white—was the handwriting. He could recognize the strokes and, above all, the signature. Whether or not it was the Red he knew, that was his son's hand.
"This has to be a forgery!" Arthur exclaimed, clinging to the last shred of hope. "You must dismiss this, Minister. My son would never involve himself in something so..."
He spoke with fealty, but deep down, doubt was taking root. Red had always been a problematic, strange child—someone Arthur often failed to decipher—but this surpassed his imagination.
"Is this seal not that of your House?!" Fudge struck out, seeing his opponent's weakness. "We have verified the signature, and it belongs to a real blood seal. Bring the Weasley family heraldic records right now to compare them!"
"It's impossible! That seal is hidden among my personal belongings. I never use it! My children don't even know it exists!" Arthur replied, desperately trying to find a logic that would save him, but his paleness betrayed him. The parchment was real.
Chaos once again took hold of the Atrium. Some employees slipped away to be the first to spread the news in Diagon Alley; others, under Fudge's orders, ran in search of evidence.
Kingsley Shacklebolt approached Arthur and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to convey a support he himself didn't fully feel.
"Steady, Arthur. It might be a misunderstanding," he said in a low voice. "I... I was with him. He looked strange. He was too serious, too confident... perhaps something dark. He possessed a cursed magical object that made the skin crawl. I should have been more aware; I should have stopped him the moment I felt something didn't fit. I'm certain it's someone using Polyjuice Potion."
"Do you really think so, Kingsley?!" Arthur clung to the black wizard's arm like a shipwrecked man to a plank. "Do you mean it?"
He asked with a cracking voice, but there was no relief in his gaze. If it wasn't Red, it meant someone powerful enough to deceive an Auror and steal a family heraldic seal was impersonating his son for who knows what reason or motive.
At that moment, the employees sent to investigate returned to the Atrium with somber faces. They pushed through the crowd until they stood before the Minister, who received them with a mixture of impatience and anxiety.
"Well? Did you find anything out?" Fudge asked, forcing a confidence that was crumbling inside. "Did that boy return to the country in secret?"
"The Brazilian Ministry... simply rambled," the official explained, measuring his words. "We contacted Castelobruxo and demanded to speak directly with him, but they informed us he was unavailable. Upon pressing with a priority order, they finally confessed the truth: the boy is no longer at the school. He is... missing."
"See! I told you!" Fudge exclaimed, catching his breath with a triumphant smile. "Red Weasley has broken the rules, violated our borders, and entered the country illegally to cause disturbances."
Arthur and Kingsley paled in unison, but Amelia Bones, who had remained in a cold silence, intervened with a firm voice.
"He is a native of Great Britain, Cornelius. His return cannot be illegal by definition," Amelia stated. She remembered the boy and couldn't fit his image with that of an international criminal; she couldn't help throwing him a legal lifeline.
"Even so! A child who has—" Fudge couldn't finish the sentence.
"Mr. Minister, the matter is much graver," the informant interrupted. "It's not just Red Weasley who disappeared. His companion, Hannah Abbott, has also vanished during the exchange. According to the reports we managed to extract, there was a terrorist attack by unknown groups during an excursion. Both children were lost in the Amazon rainforest and nothing has been heard of them for days. Even the rescue teams sent have stopped emitting signals."
An overwhelming silence fell over the Atrium. This was no longer the secret return of a rebellious student; it was an international tragedy. Amelia Bones clenched her fists now upon hearing the name of Hannah—her niece Susan's best friend—but it was Arthur who reacted with desperate fury.
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Sorry, friends, this is all for now. Patreon support has decreased, so I'll only be uploading 1 or 2 chapters weekly for the time being.