The forest mist had vanished completely, leaving even the surrounding air crystalline in its clarity.
Under the night sky, a full moon hung in solitary majesty, surrounded by scattered stars like diamonds on black velvet. Then bright green light exploded against this pristine darkness, birthing the ominous Dark Mark that bloomed like a malevolent flower in the night.
Exceptionally brilliant. Impossibly obvious.
Snape had channeled enormous magical power into the casting, making his Dark Mark colossal beyond measure. For a breathtaking moment, the evil emerald glow outshone even the pure moonlight cascading from the heavens above.
Though night mist typically shrouded the countryside, this was the wizarding world—magical folk everywhere possessed their own methods of observation. How could mere fog obstruct their hunger for knowledge when crisis stirred?
In this moment, countless wizards who noticed the sky turning an unnatural green turned their attention toward the distant forest. Without exception, they began chanting detection spells, casting their magically enhanced vision toward the source of disturbance.
What they witnessed nearly frightened the more fragile among them into unconsciousness.
The Dark Mark!
Why was there a Dark Mark burning in the sky!
That skull-and-serpent sigil, visible for hundreds of miles in every direction, was witnessed by thousands of wizards—and the number kept growing exponentially. In an instant, the peaceful night erupted into chaos.
Some faces turned grave, others twisted with terror, still others blazed with fanatical joy, and a few broke into wild cheering.
Though none could yet determine the Dark Mark's caster's ultimate purpose, one truth was undeniable.
In terms of sowing chaos, panic, and above all, bone-deep vigilance—the spellcaster had achieved complete success.
Disorder was coming. The wizarding world's fragile peace was about to shatter.
........................
In the Minister's office at the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge naturally witnessed the apocalyptic sight blazing across the distant sky. The crystal tumbler in his hand crashed to the marble floor, exploding into a thousand glittering fragments. Simultaneously, an avalanche of owls and enchanted letters began streaming through his windows—parchments falling like snow, threatening to bury the Minister's office beneath a mountain of panic-stricken correspondence.
"What... what in Merlin's name is happening!"
Three parts raw panic, three parts crushing disbelief, three parts volcanic rage, and ninety-one parts paralyzing terror of everything—after his brain briefly short-circuited, Fudge released a sound somewhere between a roar and a sob. His face flushed crimson, veins bulging at his temples, eyes instantly bloodshot.
He lurched to his feet, sweeping aside the avalanche of letters with violent gestures, and threw himself against the floor-to-ceiling windows. Frantically rubbing his eyes, he prayed his vision was betraying him—that the skull and serpent blazing overhead were nothing more than stress-induced hallucinations.
But reality was merciless. The Dark Mark hung in the air like a malignant constellation, its sickly green radiance blending with the darkness to create something even more sinister than either alone.
This was a terror only those who had lived through Voldemort's first reign could truly comprehend.
"Wait... that direction—!"
Fudge identified the Dark Mark's position, his pupils dilating with fresh horror. Unless his geography had completely failed him, that was precisely along the route his Auror squad had taken when they departed the Ministry to escort Peter Pettigrew to Azkaban.
It couldn't be...
Fudge's complexion shifted from crimson to the color of raw liver. He fought through the sea of letters like a drowning man, stumbling and staggering toward his office door.
He had to mobilize every available Auror squad and rush reinforcements to that location!
Not a single moment could be wasted!
Because the escort detail hadn't consisted of merely seven Aurors—there had been over a hundred Dementors accompanying them.
If that Dark Mark wasn't some elaborate prank, the attackers' primary target might very well be those barely controllable abominations!
After all, such an assault had already occurred once before, not long ago.
Damn it all!
Damn it to the deepest pits of hell!
Why must these catastrophes happen during MY administration!
No one could hear Fudge's internal screaming as he plunged into the Ministry's labyrinthine corridors.
........................
"That is..."
Albus Dumbledore gazed toward the high heavens with profound gravity, his ancient eyes taking in every detail of the unmistakable Dark Mark blazing overhead.
Hermione Granger beside him had also spotted the sinister sigil and quickly reached out to grasp Dumbledore's midnight-blue robes.
When Dumbledore turned his attention to her, Hermione shook her head with deliberate emphasis.
"...I see. They're quite bold indeed."
Witnessing Hermione's reaction, Dumbledore immediately grasped the true nature of this Dark Mark.
This was undoubtedly Glenn and Severus's handiwork!
If his deductions were correct, those two had already spirited away Peter Pettigrew...
No—the scope might be even more ambitious than he'd imagined. If Peter Pettigrew had been their sole objective, Glenn never would have embroiled himself in such a perilous and complex operation from the beginning. His original purpose transcended the mere capture of one pathetic traitor. Given Glenn's demonstrated capabilities, those Dementors had likely already been systematically exterminated.
And now they were broadcasting their success to the entire wizarding world...
What an audaciously reckless stratagem...
Dumbledore felt Hermione tugging his sleeve with increasing urgency and could only respond with a rueful smile and a shake of his silver head.
Snape had secured custody of Peter Pettigrew. Glenn had eliminated whatever Dementors he'd targeted for reasons known only to himself. And now they were casting the Dark Mark into the sky like a declaration of war...
So Hermione's true purpose in accompanying him to the Ministry had been real-time intelligence gathering—monitoring the movements of law enforcement personnel and providing tactical warnings to Glenn's operation...
Dumbledore studied Hermione as she abandoned all pretense of concealment, activating her magical communication device to coordinate with Glenn.
"Ministry personnel are mobilizing rapidly. Auror squads have been assembled—you need to evacuate that position immediately... What? You're still pursuing those Dementors?!"
"Oh—oh, you've chased them to another location. That's... acceptable. But exercise extreme caution. When creatures are driven to desperation, they often turn on their hunters with suicidal fury. Protect yourself, do you understand? Good. I'm terminating this connection."
Hermione completed her intelligence briefing and tactical recommendations before deactivating her earpiece. She raised her eyes to meet Dumbledore's penetrating gaze.
"Professor Dumbledore, will you condemn us for this?"
Dumbledore remained silent, his blue eyes—usually twinkling with warmth—now studying Hermione with the intensity of a master strategist evaluating a chess position. The young woman met his scrutiny without flinching, her chin raised with quiet defiance, showing neither guilt nor fear.
Several heartbeats passed in weighted silence.
Finally, Dumbledore released a long, weary sigh and massaged his temples with fingers that had grown thin with age.
"...No, Miss Granger. I will not condemn you. Your methods were indeed... extraordinarily aggressive..."
His ancient eyes found hers once more, and for a moment, she glimpsed the terrible burden he carried.
"But you have also accomplished what I desperately wanted to achieve—yet found myself unable to do."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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