Meanwhile, outside the Ministry, a sonic boom akin to the crack of a whip ripped through the air as Albus Dumbledore materialized, his brow deeply furrowed.
His original plan had been to appear directly in the heart of the Ministry, but his attempts had failed one after another. For some inexplicable reason, the connection of the Floo Network fireplaces assigned to the Ministry had suffered a massive collapse during that specific hour. Faced with the blockade, the Headmaster had attempted to resort to Fawkes; however, mid-process, a second, unknown phoenix of mysterious origin had breached the plane, engaging its counterpart in a violent clash before dragging it away in a flash of fire. That alone was an alarm bell grave enough to put the old wizard on high alert. As a last resort, Dumbledore opted for conventional Apparition, but instead of landing in the Atrium, the flow of his magic abruptly diverted him here, right in front of the Ministry's main entrance.
Yet this was not mundane London. The surroundings felt strangely distorted: it was an exact replica of the street, but it lay completely deserted, plunged into a deathly silence and devoid of the pedestrians who should have been crowding the area at this hour. It was a pocket dimension, a mirror space. And there, awaiting him in the middle of the empty road, was a small welcoming committee led by Tonks.
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," she greeted, casting him a look tinged with subtle guilt.
"I assume this display is your doing, Nymphadora... Or rather, his," the Headmaster stated, fixing her with a stern gaze.
"Yes, I'm very sorry, Professor, but I can't let you take another step... At least, not for now," Tonks admitted.
Despite the evident nervousness that made her voice falter, a spark of resolve and an uncontainable rush of adrenaline shone in her eyes. She drew her wand in a fluid motion, a gesture immediately mirrored by the four elite wizards backing her up.
"My only task is to hold you here for a brief moment. Nothing out of this world. Just enough time for the match to begin in the Atrium."
"You know perfectly well that you are making a flagrant mistake, Nymphadora. Step aside and let me pass. I do not wish to hurt you," Dumbledore warned with genuine pity, his right hand holding the Elder Wand with a calm that was, in itself, overwhelming. "You were an exceptional student, noble and loyal, like every great Hufflepuff... You should not be involved in these kinds of dark games. I deeply regret the day I gave in to your demands and allowed you two to attend those Ministry apprenticeships together. You should have never intertwined your path with his; it will lead you to no good."
"I know... Though, honestly, I doubt it would have changed anything. One way or another, we would have ended up at this point," Tonks replied, shedding any shred of remorse. "In fact, you should be glad we are here. Red's original plan didn't include this; his idea was to leak a rumor that he planned to break Gellert Grindelwald out, forcing you to make an emergency trip to Nurmengard just to waste your time over there."
Tonks's words cut through the icy air of the mirror dimension. Dumbledore's fingers tightened around the wood of his wand, and for the first time in decades, his mask of an unperturbed grandfather cracked, revealing an expression of rigid surprise and absolute alarm.
"Don't be so alarmed, Professor; it was actually a lie," Tonks confessed, letting out a guilt-ridden smile. "If you had gone to Nurmengard, you would have found that everything remains exactly the same. Red has no interest whatsoever in Grindelwald, he just needed something alarming enough to waste your time... But... I decided to alter the plans on the fly. He'll probably be furious with me when he finds out, but I deemed this strictly necessary."
"And why would you do such a thing, Nymphadora?" the old man inquired.
Deep within his voice vibrated a subtle nuance of hope; the Headmaster was trying to decipher if this insubordination meant Tonks was looking for a covert way to sabotage Red instead of serving him.
"If I'm being honest... Out of pure selfishness," she declared.
Tonks flexed her legs, dropping into an impeccable combat stance as the four wizards backing her took several steps back, yielding the center of the road to her.
"You see, ever since I became a mother, I feel like I'm lacking a bit of adrenaline in my veins. I don't want to lose my spark... And I figured that testing my strength against you, even knowing that the odds are entirely against me, would be an excellent routine to wake up my body. Come on, what other chance will I have in life to duel you, Professor...?"
The words of his former student threw the old man off once more. Despite his profound confusion, Dumbledore couldn't help but let a small, fond smile curl his lips. Out of pure professional courtesy, he raised the Elder Wand, adopting a duelist's classic, elegant opening guard.
"In that case, allow me to congratulate you somewhat belatedly, Nymphadora. However, I find myself under the strict obligation to prevent that boy from continuing to manipulate destiny at his whim... In the future, when the waters calm down, I hope you will introduce me to your son."
"Thank you, Professor. And don't worry, once this whole matter is concluded, I'll introduce you to little Dito. He is the most beautiful creature on the planet; he has his father's quirks, but fortunately, he takes right after me..." Tonks cut herself off, tripping over her own words, "...I mean, in personality. Physically, that's another story."
"I shall be delighted to meet him," Dumbledore nodded, regaining his solemnity in the blink of an eye. "But now, I must ask you to forgive me if I do not offer you an exemplary battle. I am afraid time is running against me."
"Don't hold back, Professor, leave it all in the arena," Tonks challenged him, tightening her grip on her wand and engaging the gears of her mechanical arm with a dull hum. "I have no intention of making it easy for you either."
...
Lucius's words provoked a wave of mixed reactions across the Atrium. The more cynical spectators shifted in their seats with evident excitement; the aristocracy cared absolute nothing about witnessing a mature wizard publicly tear a minor to shreds. At the opposite end, my father vehemently objected, trying by all means to delay the encounter. He clung desperately to the security barrier, praying for the silhouette of Albus Dumbledore to cut through the entrance and put an end to the madness. However, his final hopes evaporated when the tide of public opinion turned in Malfoy's favor, and I myself decided to step forward.
"All right. I also believe there is no point in prolonging this agony," I declared, adopting a tone of perfect, serene acceptance.
"Red!" my parents exclaimed in unison.
"Everything is fine, Dad. I unleashed this storm, perhaps in a brash and stupid way... but it is my absolute responsibility to put an end to it. This needs to happen now," I stated with solemnity as I stood up. I left my seat behind and, before they could restrain me, I raised my voice toward the other end of the Atrium: "Alright, Lucius! Let's do it!"
Lucius gave me a cold look of confirmation. While the crowd reorganized into an expectant murmur, the Malfoy patriarch directed his steps toward the stairs of his sector. Narcissa held his arm for a brief moment, whispering a few final, tense words into his ear, while his political allies patted his shoulders as a token of good fortune.
On our side of the board, the scene was just as intense, but for drastically different reasons. My parents cut off my path, firmly blocking my advance.
"You're right, Red... This can no longer be stopped," my father admitted, with a heaviness that dragged down his features. Immediately after, with a resolution I hadn't seen in him in years, he drew his wand.
"Arthur?" Molly looked at him, dumbfounded. I myself took a second to process what he intended.
"I will take Red's place in the arena," my father decreed, straightening his back. "My son may have provoked the challenge, but I am the Head of the House of Weasley. I am the leader of this family, and that grants me the legitimate right to duel in the name of my blood."
My mother's eyes flooded with tears as she grasped the magnitude of the gesture. It was a legal loophole, yes, but anyone with a shred of pragmatism would have doubted it was the best option. Duels of Honor were no game. Lucius Malfoy would have measured his strength against a minor so as to not irremediably tarnish his public reputation; even if he crippled me, no one in the court could have blamed him. But with Arthur... the story was radically different. They were enemies. This was the perfect opportunity life was handing Lucius to legally eliminate his rival. And even if he chose to spare his life, the consequences of my father losing his magic and being exiled from the wizarding world would be devastating for a family already bordering on destitution. From a purely strategic standpoint, the loss was infinitely smaller if I took the risk... but my parents would never agree to sacrifice a child.
My father... his decision was unshakeable. Surprisingly, my mother made no move to stop him; despite the terror gripping her, she accepted her husband's sacrifice.
I tried to interpose an objection, but neither of them gave me room to speak. In fact, my father gave Molly a stern sign to hold me by the shoulders. They weren't going to listen to reason. I exhaled a long sigh of apparent surrender just as Lucius Malfoy set foot onto the platform.
Then, adopting a posture of absolute anguish and feigned resignation, I extended my arms forward. It looked like the desperate gesture of a boy begging his father for one last, warm embrace before he went to wager his life for him.
The maneuver touched the hearts of both. Both Arthur and Molly closed the distance, pulling me into a close, tight family embrace, silently lamenting that the rest of my siblings weren't present to share what could very well be our last time together.
"I love you, Dad..." I whispered against his shoulder, with sincere appreciation for the man who was willing to die for me. At the same time, I articulated one final, imperceptible whisper: "Forgive me..."
"I love you too..." my father began to reply.
«Stupefy»
A tiny red spark erupted from within our embrace, striking my father dead-on in the stomach at point-blank range.
The effect was instantaneous. His body went completely slack, collapsing unconscious before a treacherous attack he would have never expected to receive from his own son. In that exact microsecond, I used the inertia to push his limp weight into my mother's arms and, capitalising on the bewilderment, broke into a run toward the arena, launching myself in a clean, spectacular leap.
"Arthur!" my mother roared, staggering as she had to support her husband's passed-out body. "Red!"
Ensuring millimetric precision, my leap deposited me directly on one end of the platform. Upon sticking the landing, I made an almost invisible flick with my left hand. Instantly, a colossal barrier of pure light emerged from the edges of the platform, sealing the combat arena in a perfect dome of energy that, within a matter of seconds, turned completely translucent.