Unlike the beach area, the urban districts near the shoreline had suffered far more severe destruction.
What now lay before the dozen Aurors was a street torn apart by magical explosions… the original layout was barely discernible, with rubble strewn everywhere and faint traces of blood still visible here and there.
"They killed at least ten muggles here," Kingsley Shacklebolt murmured after scanning the surroundings. He let out a quiet sigh.
"This is absolutely dreadful!"
Rufus Scrimgeour seemed to mutter to himself as he surveyed the devastation.
"After fifteen years, to see such rampant traces of dark magic again… it's deeply unsettling."
Several elderly Aurors nodded in unison.
This brazen attack on the West Coast signaled one thing above all else—following Voldemort's exposure during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, the Death Eaters had declared war on the Ministry of Magic and the wizarding world.
This marked the true beginning of the Second Wizarding War.
Over a decade earlier, during the First Wizarding War—before Voldemort was defeated by one-year-old Harry Potter—the Death Eaters were strong and numerous, while the wizarding world was utterly unprepared. Auror casualties had been devastating.
For the older generation of Aurors, those memories were ones they would rather never revisit.
Now, the flames of war seemed poised to reignite once more. Though they were far better prepared than before, and even held a slight advantage, an inexplicable sorrow still weighed heavily on their hearts.
Younger Aurors like Nymphadora Tonks, however, carried none of the older generation's haunting memories.
At this very moment, Tonks was vigilantly scanning her surroundings—especially the sky. She had received a warning more than a dozen hours earlier.
When she noticed something amiss in the distant air, she immediately shouted, "Everyone… the other team seems to be in trouble!"
Thanks to their rigorous training, her warning caused no panic. All the Aurors swiftly looked up, their dominant hands instinctively gripping their wands, their reactions lightning-fast.
"We likely won't have time to help them!"
Rufus Scrimgeour declared in his deep, solemn voice, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Because we ourselves… seem to be in trouble!"
...
Indeed, they were in trouble.
Directly ahead of them, shadowy figures materialized.
Those shadows gradually revealed their forms—wizards, at least thirty of them. Cloaked and masked, they hovered in midair, arranged in an inverted triangular formation.
"Morsmordre!"
Without any warning, a voice suddenly shattered the brief silence. The wizard at the rear of the inverted triangle raised his wand and pointed it skyward—
A massive, green, shimmering apparition appeared in the heavens.
It was a colossal skull, composed of countless emerald-green, star-like sparks. A gigantic serpent slithered out from the skull's mouth like a living tongue.
As they watched, the skull rose higher and higher, blazing with eerie green light amid swirling mist. Against the pitch-black night sky, it looked like a newly born constellation.
"Death Eaters! Everyone, prepare for battle!"
Scrimgeour roared, his entire body taut like a lion ready to pounce.
Without hesitation, he raised his wand and bellowed, "Praesidio!"
A surge of blue light erupted from the tip of his wand, forming an invisible wall between the Aurors and the Death Eaters.
Almost at the same instant, dozens of multicolored beams poured down from the sky.
Scrimgeour's protective spell lasted barely half a second, just enough to throw the Death Eaters' attacks slightly off course. The next moment, countless spells smashed down, reducing the abandoned street to total devastation.
But that half-second proved crucial.
Every Auror reacted instantly, Apparating away in flashes of white light and scattering in all directions. Scattering outward like petals from a bloom, the Death Eaters' rain of spells struck nothing but empty ground.
Scrimgeour hauled himself out of the rubble, spitting a mouthful of blood-tinged saliva.
Shadows closed in around him, blocking every avenue of escape. Eyes gleamed from beneath hoods, and dozens of glowing wand tips were trained directly on his position.
...
The entire area had been cut off from the Apparition network.
All the Aurors realized it at once.
That realization carried two immediate implications.
First, the Death Eaters had come fully prepared—the so-called "West Coast Hurricane" incident was nothing more than a carefully laid trap.
Second, the upper levels of the Department of Magical Transportation, especially the Apparition Office, had already been thoroughly infiltrated by Death Eaters.
But for highly trained Aurors, that didn't mean surrender.
"Stupefy!"
Scrimgeour roared like a lion, a crimson beam blasting from his wand and striking the nearest Death Eater with pinpoint accuracy.
The masked Death Eater collapsed almost instantly.
Several green blasts shot toward Scrimgeour.
He ducked, rolled across the ground, and took cover behind a wall. One Killing Curse passed within just a few yards of him—but he'd narrowly avoided it.
Ahead, several Death Eaters were advancing step by step.
Around them, the battle between Aurors and Death Eaters raged on unabated.
A pale figure tinged with pink streaked to Scrimgeour's side. She fired a Stunning Spell at the approaching Death Eaters, helping him escape his immediate danger.
"Thanks, Nymphadora!"
Scrimgeour said hoarsely as he tightened his grip on his wand.
"Don't… call me… Nymphadora!" Tonks gasped between breaths, shouting, "Impedimenta!"
An invisible barrier sprang up between them and the Death Eaters, forcing them apart.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The Killing Curse was not cast by a Death Eater—but by Scrimgeour himself, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
A green beam shot from his wand, striking a Death Eater who had poked his head over the barrier.
The Death Eater's body tumbled down like a kite with its string cut. His mask shattered against the ground, revealing a pale, lifeless, and strikingly young face.
"Exceptional circumstances!"
Scrimgeour tossed the explanation over his shoulder to Tonks before gripping his wand once more and plunging back into the fray.
…
Behind them, Gawain Robards was battling a Death Eater ten feet away. John Savage was halfway down a flight of steps, firing spells at several Death Eaters below. Kingsley Shacklebolt, meanwhile, was engaged in combat with three Death Eaters at once.
Even facing three opponents, Kingsley showed no fear, and his hands never faltered.
Kingsley's spell shattered the mask of the Death Eater in the middle, revealing a brutish, vicious face beneath—
"Yaxley," Kingsley said calmly. "I never imagined you were hiding so deep!"
"Swear allegiance to the Dark Lord with me, Kingsley!" the Death Eater Yaxley declared, his voice tinged with madness.
"As a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight Families, the Dark Lord will welcome you with open arms!"
"Foolish!" Kingsley snorted coldly, a Stunning Spell whizzing past Yaxley's ear.
"Then die!"
Two dark figures flew toward Kingsley Shacklebolt's position from behind, causing him to frown—he could easily find himself outnumbered five to one.
However—
One of the two figures, halfway through its charge, was suddenly struck and sent plummeting out of the air, crashing awkwardly to the ground.
In the space it had occupied moments before appeared a face scarred and weathered, like ancient, decaying wood.
"Kingsley, I hope we're not too late!" Alastor Moody suddenly materialized, leaning on his cane. His bright blue magical eye swept across the surroundings as he shouted.
"No, the timing is perfect…" A faint smile touched Kingsley's lips.
"Stupefy!"
The crimson beam struck Yaxley squarely in the chest. The Death Eater thrashed a few times before collapsing completely to the ground.
The other two Death Eaters didn't dare linger. They hoisted the wounded Yaxley and swiftly vanished into the shadows.
...
Behind Mad-Eye Moody, more and more witches and wizards appeared.
First came Remus Lupin, followed by Minerva McGonagall and Arthur Weasley. Then Sturgis Podmore, Elphias Doggie, and Hestia Jones arrived in quick succession.
A dozen or so members of the Order of the Phoenix materialized one after another, each holding some peculiar object—a broken shoe, an old watch, a rusty bread knife.
These unassuming items were clearly makeshift Portkeys.
The Order of the Phoenix members had not come unprepared.
With their arrival, the balance of the battlefield shifted dramatically.
Even when unleashing the Unforgivable Curses indiscriminately, the Death Eaters were no match for the Aurors in one-on-one combat. Relying solely on their numerical advantage, they had gradually gained the upper hand.
But with the addition of this powerful new force to the Aurors' side, their only advantage vanished.
Moreover, with Yaxley already knocked unconscious by Kingsley, the leaderless Death Eaters began fleeing in panic, one after another—though clearly, not many managed to escape.
Albus Dumbledore was striding toward them, a great crimson bird soaring beside him, its entire body glowing with golden light. His peculiar Elder Wand was raised high above his head, his pale face contorted with fury.
The nearest Death Eater spotted him and shouted a warning to the others. He then turned and fled, scrambling up the stone steps opposite like a monkey—only for Dumbledore's spell to drag him back effortlessly, as though snagged by invisible threads.
One by one, the Death Eaters were pulled down from the sky by Dumbledore, collapsing before him as if bound by unseen ropes.
The battle on this side ended in an instant. Apart from the first few Death Eaters, very few managed to escape.
Scrimgeour, dragging his wounded body, crawled over to Gawain Robards and tried to rouse him. During his earlier fight with a Death Eater, Robards had been struck by a strange spell.
...
The battle on the street ended just as swiftly.
The Death Eaters on the beach—and the Dark Lord himself—clearly realized this as well.
Voldemort lifted his head, gazing toward the flickering golden light in the distance, his brow knitting slightly.
"Let's go. Dumbledore is here!"
He issued the command coldly, then waved his hand. The shadowy forms of more than a dozen large snakes scattered and began to fade.
It wasn't that he feared Dumbledore. Rather, this imperfect body truly lacked the strength to face him head-on.
Moreover, Dumbledore's swift arrival made it clear that he knew of the plan—this sudden ambush had undeniably failed.
Of course, it wasn't entirely without gain.
Voldemort's eyes swept over the group of Ministry of Magic employees from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, herded together by the Death Eaters.
"Master, what should we do with these people…"
A Death Eater knelt at the Dark Lord's feet and asked respectfully.
"Take them all… bring them back for interrogation!" Voldemort commanded coldly.
Shadowy figures began flying off into the distance.
Voldemort's crimson eyes swept over the beach one final time, eventually settling on the ruins of the beach resort hotel—
...
Jon Hart didn't dare breathe.
Though he had considered this possibility beforehand, facing such danger in reality still sent a cold sweat down his spine.
He did his best to steady his emotions and sealed his mind completely, determined not to let Voldemort sense his presence.
A massive green serpent even slithered into the ruins of the beach resort hotel. Just as Jon's heart leapt into his throat, distant spell explosions seemed to draw everyone's attention.
The serpent didn't crawl far into the ruins before vanishing.
Clearly, their master had recalled them.
Voldemort and his Death Eaters appeared to be preparing to retreat, as wave after wave of dark figures flew toward the distant Irish Sea.
At the same time, the golden light from the other side drew ever closer.
Just as Jon thought he might escape this ordeal—
On the beach, Voldemort, who had remained behind, suddenly raised his ebony wand toward the ruins of the beach resort hotel.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The cold voice echoed in Jon's ears.