Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—
"Morsmordre!"
With a Death Eater's roar, the enormous Dark Mark rose slowly into the sky above Hogwarts: a blindingly green skull, a serpent's tongue slithering from its mouth.
Whenever Death Eaters stormed a building or committed murder, they left this symbol behind.
It now flickered above the castle's Astronomy Tower. To anyone watching, it would seem that death had struck there.
On the tower, Voldemort suddenly lifted his head. His gleaming red eyes turned chillingly sharp.
It wasn't just the Dark Lord—every Death Eater present stiffened in alarm.
Like the Dark Mark blazing overhead, the Dark Marks on their forearms began to burn.
All Dark Marks were interconnected. When one was touched, every Death Eater felt it—especially the one who had created them: Voldemort.
It was how they communicated.
Under normal circumstances, no Death Eater would dare touch the mark lightly. Summoning the Dark Lord might also summon his wrath.
And now, every one of them could feel it clearly—
Bellatrix Lestrange had touched her Dark Mark.
What did that mean?
Bellatrix was stationed at Yaxley Manor. Had she been attacked by the Order of the Phoenix?
Had tonight been a trap all along?
No one dared speak. A few Death Eaters even edged subtly away from Voldemort, afraid that his fury might fall on them.
A surge of rage welled up inside him. His gaze grew distant, the crimson in his eyes slowly dimming—shifting into a strange, eerie green.
...
Bellatrix Lestrange hit the ground hard.
Jon lowered his wand and gave a light clap of his hands. The Anti-Disapparition Jinx Headmaster Dexter Fortescue had taught him worked even better against Death Eaters than he had expected.
"Mrs. Lestrange," Jon said, crouching down, his expression grave. "The Dark Lord must have entrusted you with something important recently. A golden cup, perhaps, engraved with Hufflepuff's crest. Or it may be disguised as something else."
Bellatrix spat out a mouthful of blood. "You'll never—"
A piercing scream tore from her throat.
"Crucio!"
Rosier raised his wand without hesitation. Bellatrix writhed on the ground, convulsing in agony.
"No—wait, Miss Rosier!" Jon quickly stopped her. "I have a better way to interrogate her."
The Cruciatus Curse ceased. Bellatrix lay there, gasping.
Then she felt several drops of liquid fall into her mouth. It was tasteless—like water.
"Have you seen a golden cup engraved with Hufflepuff's emblem?" Jon asked again.
"Yes…" Bellatrix nodded faintly. The savagery in her eyes faded into a vacant haze. "The Dark Lord gave it to me last night… Early this morning, I hid it in the Lestrange family cemetery…"
"Does anyone know where the Lestrange family cemetery is?" Jon lifted his head and looked directly at Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Yes," Kingsley replied with a nod. "There's one at Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris. The other is in Dorset—not far from here."
The Shacklebolt family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. They knew more than most about old pure-blood families.
In a single day, Bellatrix was unlikely to have sent it all the way to France.
"So it's in Dorset?" Jon pressed.
"Yes… I dug up Rodolphus's parents' ashes from their grave and hid the Dark Lord's golden cup inside…" Bellatrix answered in the same hollow tone.
(Rodolphus Lestrange was her husband.)
"We're pulling out—now!" Jon shouted. "Kingsley, take us there!"
"Right. Hold on tight," Kingsley said in his steady, resonant voice, somehow calming the tension.
At that moment, a violent explosion erupted from the cellar entrance. Mad-Eye Moody appeared to have blown the entire stairwell apart, sending several Death Eaters flying.
Moody and Vance came running over, both breathing hard.
"That was invigorating," Vance said with a faint sigh. "It's been a long time since I've had a fight like that."
Kingsley let out a sharp shout. Once again, they felt themselves squeezed through a narrow, suffocating tube—
When their feet touched ground again, cool night air surrounded them, thick with the scent of damp earth.
Before them stood a gravestone carved with a massive raven.
...
"Ah—!"
Harry Potter suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his scar.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Jon asked urgently.
Harry hadn't felt this in a long time. His scar burned as though it had caught fire. His vision blurred; his body trembled.
A surge of fury flooded him—an overwhelming urge to kill. He had to fight with everything he had just to keep it down.
"Wake up, Harry!" Jon's voice rang in his ears.
"We don't have time for this!" Mad-Eye Moody snapped. "Damn it—why didn't Dumbledore come himself? Why bring the boy?"
"Professor Dumbledore is returning to Hogwarts," Jon said, his voice trembling slightly.
"What?" Kingsley Shacklebolt exclaimed. "Voldemort has infiltrated the castle. His target must be—"
"Professor Dumbledore knows," Jon said, his voice thick with emotion. "And he also knows that without a strong enough lure, we wouldn't be able to destroy his Horcrux before You-Know-Who realizes what we're doing…"