The night was as dark as ink, with a fiery red glow surrounding Augustus. The faint crimson light reflected in his silver pupils, converging into two points of blood-red intensity. In his previous life as a legendary mage of an empire, a war machine in action, countless souls had perished by his hand. The road to magical greatness was always paved with blood.
Lillian stood quietly behind Augustus, her expression calm. Even when faced with some of the most dangerous individuals in Britain—fugitives who had dominated the magical world's dark forces for thirty years—she remained unfazed. She knew that the figure in front of her, standing tall, was the most unshakable shield she could have in this world.
A warm summer breeze passed by as Augustus's tall figure stood against it. His deep voice broke the silence of the night:
"Now, you have only two choices before you. First, tell me the purpose of your gathering. Second, pick a decent way to die."
The Death Eaters fell into silence, a peculiar tension enveloping them. If anyone else had dared to speak to them like this, these defiant fugitives would have quickly taught them the meaning of regret. But facing this man, they hesitated. A primal sense of danger warned them that failing to choose the first option might lead to the second—without warning.
"Mr. Augustus, I am the leader of this gathering," a tall Death Eater stepped forward after a brief pause, his tone respectful. "We sincerely apologize for disturbing you. This gathering was merely a celebration after the World Cup. For the sake of pureblood lineage and our shared ties to Slytherin, please spare us. I assure you, Death Eaters will never again appear in your vicinity."
"Interesting. A celebration?" Augustus sneered, his tone cold. "And your 'festivities' involve these innocent Muggles? Personally, I hold no inherent prejudice against Death Eaters. However, I cannot stand those who bully the defenseless. That particular Death Eater deserved to die. Would you all agree?" His gaze, icy and piercing, sent chills down their spines.
"Frankly, we had our grievances with him long ago," the leader quickly distanced himself. Turning to the others, he silently signaled them to do the same.
Catching his cue, the Death Eaters began to denounce the fallen one.
"Good riddance!"
"He was a disgrace to us all!"
"A blot on the name of Death Eaters!"
"Enough," Augustus waved his hand impatiently, silencing their hollow theatrics. "Get lost."
But just as the Death Eaters were about to savor their narrow escape, a giant, luminous green symbol suddenly appeared in the night sky. It surged into the treetops and soared higher into the air—a massive skull made of shimmering green light, with a serpent slithering out of its mouth like a tongue. As they watched in shock, the mark glowed brighter, casting an eerie light against the dark sky like a sinister constellation.
Screams erupted from the Death Eaters as panic overtook them. One by one, they Apparated away with faint popping sounds. Within ten seconds, the clearing was deserted.
"The Dark Mark," Augustus said grimly, his gaze fixed on the glowing skull in the sky.
"Is he back?" Lillian asked, a trace of worry in her voice.
"More likely a servant of his. Let's go and investigate," Augustus replied, extending his hand to her. With a faint disturbance in the air, the two vanished from the spot.
When they landed, they saw three disheveled figures nearby.
"Looks like Harry and his friends," Lillian noted curiously. "Why are they here, of all places?"
Harry, Hermione, and Ron also noticed them. Hermione's eyes lit up, and she hurried over with the boys. Before she could speak, a series of faint popping sounds announced the arrival of twenty wizards who surrounded them in an instant.
"Stupefy!" shouted twenty voices in unison. Blinding flashes of light shot toward them.
Augustus, annoyed, waved his wand casually. A dark cloud materialized and enveloped the area around him, Lillian, and the trio. The spells entering the cloud scattered, their fiery red beams ricocheting wildly off trees before vanishing into the darkness.
"Stop!" a familiar voice shouted. "Stop, that's my son!"
Mr. Weasley hurried toward them, his face filled with terror.
"Mr. Augustus, Ron—Harry—" his voice trembled, "are you all alright?"
"Stand aside, Arthur," came a cold, emotionless voice.
It was Mr. Crouch, flanked by Ministry officials. He directed his sharp gaze at Augustus and the others, a hint of impatience flickering across Augustus's calm expression.
"Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?" Crouch demanded, his piercing eyes scanning Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"Mr. Crouch," another voice interjected. A refined-looking man stepped forward—it was Blaine. "Do you really believe that any of these children, including my daughter, could be underage Death Eaters?"
"They were found at the scene!" Crouch argued, still pointing his wand at them.
"Ridiculous. Since when does merely being at a scene make someone guilty? That's an absurd theory," Augustus scoffed.
"Your presence here is highly suspicious. Who else could have conjured the Mark but you?" Crouch retorted, his gaze unwavering.
Augustus didn't bother replying. He had little patience for someone so eager to lay blame without evidence.
"Barty," a witch in a long woolen dressing gown said softly, "they're just children. They couldn't possibly—"
"Where did the mark come from?" Mr. Weasley asked urgently.
"Over there," Hermione said shakily, pointing to the trees where they had heard voices earlier. "Someone was there, speaking loudly... and they cast the spell..."
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