"My son has disappeared?! For days?!" Arthur lunged at the informant, seizing him by the lapels and shaking him with a strength no one believed he possessed. "How the hell did you not know?! Why am I only hearing about this now?!"
Kingsley and another Auror had to intervene to pull Arthur away from the terrified official.
"They tried to hide it, Arthur," the man stammered as he caught his breath. "They tried to resolve it on their own to avoid a scandal, but even they have stopped searching. They've lost the trail completely."
"Hide it!" Fudge roared, now genuinely indignant. "Our students vanish in their territory and they hide it! And what about Dumbledore?! He sent those children to Brazil! How is it possible that his students vanish while theirs live at ease in our beloved Hogwarts?"
"Sir..." the informant lowered his voice, trembling. "It seems that two Castelobruxo students have also been petrified recently here, at the castle. Professor Gutiérrez, who came with them, hasn't made a public scandal; it seems he's seeking a mutual agreement of silence so as not to aggravate the disaster of the exchange."
Upon hearing this, the Atrium fell into an absolute void. The situation was slipping out of their hands at a terrifying speed. Children missing in the Amazon, foreign students petrified at Hogwarts, a dueling challenge, an imminent family war...
Arthur, consumed by desperation, didn't wait for Fudge to finish processing the information. He pushed his way toward the Floo Network fireplaces; he needed to see Dumbledore immediately. He needed to know if the person at the Ministry had been his son or what had happened to him.
Fudge, for his part, was left speechless. The political strike against the Weasleys had become insignificant compared to the diplomatic disaster looming over him. The farce that Hogwarts was safe and that he himself had overseen the end of the attacks was falling to pieces in front of foreign delegations. It was no longer about maintaining a good image; it was about preventing a total collapse. Without wasting more time, he began barking orders, mobilizing every department before the next bomb exploded in his face.
...
Meanwhile, in Diagon Alley, the news spread with lightning speed as soon as the clone at the Ministry vanished. In "The Dragons of Albion," the rumor filtered through discreetly; waitresses dropped half-sentences while serving tables, and strategically positioned "customers" spoke loudly about what had happened in the Atrium. Like a silent epidemic, the information jumped from the establishment to the rest of Diagon Alley and crept through the alleys of Knockturn.
Soon, the fire would be stoked even further. An anonymous note, loaded with the exact details of the challenge, landed on the desk of a certain Daily Prophet reporter known for her nose for carrion. The information was incomplete, but it contained enough venom for her to do the rest. Dealing with two pure-blood families at odds, it was a media bombshell. It mattered little if Rita Skeeter distorted the facts under her quill; the only thing that mattered was that the magical world knew blood was about to be spilled.
...
At Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore was trying to decipher at what point the threads had slipped from his fingers. His musings were interrupted by a guest he did not expect: Arthur Weasley. The Headmaster was about to offer a polite greeting but stopped when he saw Arthur's state. Arthur was haggard, pale, and shrouded in an aura of pure anxiety.
Arthur did not beat around the bush. He didn't question Dumbledore about exchange protocols or international security; he came seeking answers. He laid out the facts with desperation, pleading for help.
Dumbledore's expression shifted from calm to gravity, bordering on genuine surprise. It was a fleeting but emotionally violent discussion: a father on the verge of collapse and an elderly Headmaster realizing that more trouble was arriving at the worst possible moment.
Both left the office at a brisk pace, seeking anyone who could shed light on the matter. With almost comic timing, they ran into Snape, who was already dressed in travel robes and carrying a briefcase, ready to depart for Brazil. The Potions Master froze for a second, but seeing the urgency in the Headmaster's eyes, he turned around and followed them, demanding in his usual biting tone that they explain the reason for such agitation.
Shortly after, in the Lair, the girls were startled by the sudden intrusion of the three men.
"Girls! Hello! Do you know anything about my son?! Has he sent you any letters?! Do you have any idea where he is?!" Arthur blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. He had lost any trace of his usual politeness.
The girls froze; some held their teacups with trembling hands at the sudden invasion.
"Steady, Arthur," Dumbledore said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to calm him. Then he addressed the students in a soft but urgent voice: "Forgive the interruption, but the situation is critical. We fear Red may be in grave danger, and we need to locate him."
Parvati was the first to regain her speech, blinking in disbelief.
"Locate him? Isn't he in Castelobruxo? In Brazil?"
The tension in the room rose several degrees. They all knew that if Dumbledore, Snape, and Mr. Weasley were there together, the situation had transcended any usual mischief.
"That may no longer be true," Dumbledore explained. "Both he and Hannah have disappeared in the Amazon jungle following a complex incident. We haven't managed to contact them, and though we reached Neville, we have no clear leads. However... there are reports that Red was seen at the Ministry barely an hour ago, though we cannot be certain it was really him."
"If you know anything, however small, please... tell me," Arthur pleaded, looking at them with a vulnerability that broke the hearts of those present.
The girls exchanged looks loaded with indecision. They knew more than they were admitting, but the weight of Red's secret held them back. However, seeing Arthur's distraught face, the scales began to tip. Red had given them the freedom to decide in critical situations, and this was undoubtedly one of them.
"We... we know something," Padma confessed, shrinking her shoulders as if expecting imminent punishment.
"Don't worry, girls. You are not in trouble," Dumbledore intervened—he already knew they had hidden something from him the last time—using his usual serene tone. His eyes now shone with the intensity of someone who finally finds a lead. "We only need to help them."
"We had contact with Hannah recently," Tracey blurted out suddenly. "She seemed to be fine. She said she was living an adventure and would tell us everything when she returned."
"She mentioned that she and Red were staying in a native village, deep in the jungle," Susan added timidly from the back. "She said they would bring us some souvenirs."
"But she also said that Red had left," Daphne added with a note of concern. "She seemed relieved by it, but she didn't give more details."
Dumbledore and Snape let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. At least the children weren't dead in an Amazonian ditch. However, Snape couldn't help but glare at the students with an intimidating look; he had been about to cross the ocean for information they had been holding onto the whole time.
"And Red?! Do you know anything else?! Can you contact him now?!" Arthur asked, clinging to the news like a shipwrecked man.
"We don't really know anything about Red. We only received that message from Hannah," Pansy denied, a hint of complaint in her voice. "Neither of them is talking; they say they'll tell us everything when they get back."
In reality, the girls were hiding that Red had asked them to cover for Hermione—they didn't even know why—but they knew they couldn't reveal it.
"Can you send a message to Red?" Dumbledore asked, observing them keenly. "I imagine you have a special method of communication. Can you do it now?"
"Yes!" "No!"
The contradictory answers clashed in the air, forcing the girls to look at each other in panic. Snape stepped forward, his presence enveloping the room like a cold shadow.
"It seems you do not fully grasp the gravity of this matter," Snape hissed, and his tone made several of them draw back. "This is not a suggestion; it is an order. Your little friend has gotten himself into a mess that he may not come out of alive if you decide to continue playing at secrets."
Padma was on the verge of tears under the Potions Master's penetrating gaze.
"It's not that we don't want to... it's just that it takes a long time," Padma managed to say, her voice breaking.
"The message takes an entire day to reach Brazil," Daphne explained, making an effort to maintain her composure in front of Snape. "There is always a delay in communication. We're sorry, Professor Dumbledore."
"But there is a possibility that Weasley is not in Brazil," Snape countered, his eyes not leaving them. "So you'd better start moving and bring him here before he gets himself killed."
The girls nodded nervously. On the periphery of the meeting, one of them had already tried to discreetly send a [Message]... but she had received no response, and they were now starting to despair.
"It's alright, don't worry," Dumbledore said, offering a warm smile intended to dissolve the fear in the room. "Try to contact him. If you discover anything new, however small, let us know immediately. It doesn't matter how long it takes."
Dumbledore didn't want to stretch the cord any further; deep down, he doubted that a group of teenagers could bend Red's will if he had decided to disappear.
"By the way," the Headmaster added, scanning the group, "where is Miss Granger?"
"That's right, his girlfriend!" Arthur exclaimed, clinging to that possibility like a drowning man to a straw. If anyone held the secret of his son's whereabouts, it had to be her.
The girls went rigid. They remembered Red's message from the previous day. They knew something important was happening between them, but Hermione herself had not been seen.
"We don't know where she is; she hasn't come to the room today," Daphne replied quickly, lying with the truth.
"Hermione?" A voice emerged from the doorway.
Everyone turned to see Millicent Bulstrode entering the room.
"I saw her heading toward the hospital wing," Millicent said, striving to maintain a casual tone, though her appearance was orchestrated by the mastermind who had indeed read the [messages]. "She told me that yesterday she almost twisted an ankle and that today, feeling weak, she fell. She went to see Madam Pomfrey."
It was a good excuse, mundane enough not to raise immediate suspicion. The next logical target was the hospital wing, but not everyone was satisfied. Snape, like Dumbledore, smelled the trail of a collective lie. Severus was not a man for requests; he preferred intrusive, albeit discreet, methods.
Except, this time, it didn't go well.
The instant Snape launched a silent Legilimency attack through his gaze at Susan—who seemed the weakest link in the group—the girl squeezed her eyes shut violently and let out a soul-shredding scream. A thread of blood began to seep from her eyelids.
"Susan!" the girls cried, surrounding her instantly.
The adults turned livid. Dumbledore lunged toward the girl to steady her as she writhed in pain.