"Tell me why you brought the Dementors here!"
Dumbledore's voice rang out right behind Argus, so close it prickled his ear. Instinctively, Argus whipped around and fired Expelliarmus!, shoving the headmaster back a few paces. But it bought him only seconds.
Seeing Argus ignore him, Dumbledore didn't hesitate. The man who'd toppled Grindelwald and thwarted Voldemort acted with ruthless precision. A barrage of silent spells erupted, blanketing Argus's hiding spot and forcing him to spin and defend.
In moments, Dumbledore closed to within ten meters.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Argus struck first, but as the spell flew, a sickly green glow betrayed him—the mark of the Dark Arts. He knew the acolytes hadn't stirred much trouble since arriving in Britain. No brainwashing, no attacks on the wizarding community. That's why Dumbledore had tolerated them this long. His suspicions likely pointed to Death Eaters instead—pure-blood holdouts who'd dodged Azkaban with family pull and Imperius excuses. With Voldemort vanished after his Hogwarts defeat two years back, it wasn't hard to imagine stragglers falling under his sway again.
Dumbledore's face stayed impassive, as if he'd expected the shift to darkness. For a dark wizard, holding back this long was restraint enough. But he countered with white magic alone, his unmatched power blurring the line between light and shadow. He was still the mightiest force in the wizarding world.
Argus flung spell after spell, but nothing budged Dumbledore. A swift counter sent him reeling, nearly tumbling from the sky.
Boom!
Dumbledore's charm clipped him, flinging Argus into a drift. As he steadied in midair, the headmaster's voice cut through: "Sirius, is that you? You've broken out of Azkaban, haunted Hogwarts' edges—all to get to Harry?"
Sirius? Argus faltered. On second thought, his moves did mirror what Dumbledore might expect from Black: luring Dementors, skulking near the school to eye Harry with malice.
He steadied himself, neither confirming nor denying, and let out a cold sneer. "Headmaster Dumbledore, are you sure you want to keep this up? Look behind you—Hogwarts is crawling with Dementors. The kids inside? Prime feasts for their misery."
"The professors will manage," Dumbledore snapped, seeing no answers forthcoming. He lunged with two sharp spells, rocking Argus again.
"Sure they can drive the Dementors off. But can you swear no students get Kissed in the meantime?" Argus's tone dripped sarcasm, edging toward a taunt. "The century's greatest white wizard, Hogwarts' own headmaster—betting it all that I'm the only intruder?"
Dumbledore's gaze hardened. He was ninety percent sure it was a bluff. But he couldn't risk it. Win or lose, the fallout could shatter everything. A Hogwarts rout would turn the wizarding world against him—cost him his post, maybe shutter the school.
He fixed Argus with a piercing stare. "You win."
Then he wheeled toward the castle.
Argus exhaled sharply only after Dumbledore vanished into the distance. He fished the phoenix tear from his sleeve—Dumbledore's own gift—and let a drop fall on his gashes.
Sizzle...
White smoke curled up as the wounds knit shut before his eyes.
"I knew he was powerful," Argus muttered, "but not this powerful." Sparring with Snape had lulled him into thinking he could hold his own against the elite. This clash exposed the chasm between him and the true titans.
No time to dwell. "Focus—get Peter out before more chaos hits."
The skirmish had honed his levitation skills; he streaked back faster than he'd come, landing on the castle's fringes. No main entrance for him—he cast the Disillusionment Charm and slipped through a Marauder's Map secret passage.
Inside, student wizards who'd mastered the Patronus Charm stood firm, silver guardians—unicorns, tabby cats, does—swooping to repel the Dementors clawing at the walls.
"Dumbledore's gone? Chasing my 'accomplice,' probably." Argus smirked inwardly. "Perfect—time to grab Peter."
The map showed both Harrys clustered near him, the time-traveler's version locked on like a hawk. Sirius Black shadowed Peter too, his fixation rivaling his godson's.
"Animagi don't need wands," Argus noted. "Peter's rat form's ideal for dodging around here. Just shake Sirius and Harry—he'll bolt on his own."
He ghosted up the stairs, edging toward the trio. Sirius was yanking Peter from the Dementors' path. As their prime escapee target, he drew them like moths to flame—most would pounce the second they sensed him. Without Lupin's shield, he'd be soulless by now.
"Padfoot, get Peter to cover," Lupin urged, sweat beading on his brow, strain etching his face. "These things won't back off otherwise."
Sirius jabbed his wand into Peter's ribs. "Don't try anything stupid. Move!"
He hauled Peter toward the stairwell. Lupin sagged in relief as they vanished, then turned to herd back the encroaching Dementors with his wand.
Two steps in, his foot caught on something. He tripped, nearly sprawling. His Patronus flickered, hesitating.
In that split second, Dementors surged, zeroing in on Sirius's trail at blinding speed.
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