Hogwarts: Third Dark Lord

Moments earlier, in a dimly lit underground pub in Knockturn Alley, the bowler-hatted owner was gazing wistfully around at the establishment he had painstakingly managed for half his life.

"Boss, are we really going to Paris, France?"

A wizard—who also happened to be the bartender—approached from behind, his tone uncertain.

Without turning around, the pub owner replied, "There's no other choice. Too many witnesses saw me swear allegiance to the Pureblood Party. It's only a matter of time before the Ministry of Magic learns of it. The others in the party might remain hidden, but if we stay here, we're practically inviting the Ministry to come knocking!"

Hearing this, the bartender grumbled resentfully, "It's their fault! If not for them, we wouldn't have to leave home and—"

Before he could finish, the owner cut him off, raising a hand to silence him. "Enough! Stop complaining. Honestly, joining the Pureblood Party isn't such a bad deal. At least we won't have to live in constant fear of other dark wizards ambushing us in the pub."

He continued, "Besides, the party has promised us a new pub in Paris—grander and more opulent than this one. They've treated us fairly. All we have to do is run the pub and pass along any useful information."

The bartender still seemed discontent, but before he could voice further objections, a sudden explosion echoed from the entrance, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps storming toward the bar.

"Run!" the owner shouted.

As the others sprang into action, preparing to Disapparate, the confined space of the pub was lit up by a flurry of spells.

"Stupefy!"

A spell shot toward the owner, who ducked just in time to avoid it. The bartender, however, wasn't as lucky. Hit squarely by the curse, he collapsed to the floor, unmoving.

The small pub became a battlefield, spells ricocheting off walls and furniture as both sides engaged in a fierce skirmish. Using his familiarity with the layout, the owner dodged and retaliated as best he could. Yet no one dared to Disapparate within the chaos, fearing a fatal splinch.

Despite their initial advantage of terrain, the outnumbered wizards were soon cornered behind the bar.

A voice amplified by a Sonorus Charm boomed through the room: "This is Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office at the British Ministry of Magic. You are surrounded! As you have not used Unforgivable Curses, I am willing to offer you a chance: surrender your wands and come with us to the Ministry for questioning."

The pub owner knew that everything happening here had already reached the Ministry. Though he had anticipated this outcome, he hadn't expected the Aurors to arrive so soon.

Scrimgeour, however, appeared calm and unhurried, fully confident that the wizards inside were already within his grasp.

Sure enough, after a moment of tense silence, a wand clattered onto the floor from behind the bar, followed by several more.

Relieved, the Aurors moved in, closing the distance with caution. But just as they reached the bar, a sudden flash of spell light burst from the corner.

"Confringo!"

The curse struck the chandelier overhead, plunging the room into darkness and throwing the Aurors into disarray.

Seizing the opportunity, the pub owner concealed his wand and attempted to sow further chaos for a quick escape.

"Everyone, target the corner! Stun them!" Scrimgeour's voice rang out.

A volley of Stunning Spells bombarded the corner, shattering the bar and reducing it to rubble. Raising his wand high, Scrimgeour cast, "Lumos Maxima!"

The bright light revealed the unconscious forms of the remaining wizards, including the bowler-hatted owner. Breathing a sigh of relief, Scrimgeour lowered his wand.

"That was close. If you hadn't reacted so quickly, they might have slipped through," an Auror beside him remarked with admiration.

Scrimgeour, however, remained grim. After a pause, he said, "This was just a newly recruited member of the Pureblood Party—a peripheral figure at best. And yet, they were this difficult to subdue. I fear we've underestimated them."

Hearing his words, the previously jubilant Aurors fell silent. Without a word, they began securing the unconscious wizards and preparing to leave the pub.

As they exited into Knockturn Alley, Scrimgeour and his team were met with an unexpected sight. What was usually a stagnant, eerie street now teemed with frantic activity. Wizards rushed through the alley, their faces pale, their movements hurried as though fleeing something unseen.

At first, Scrimgeour assumed the commotion was due to the Aurors' presence. But he quickly realized that none of the fleeing wizards even glanced in their direction.

"Sir, something's not right," an experienced Auror said, raising his wand cautiously.

Just then, a cry of alarm came from another Auror: "Look! Over there!"

Following the pointed wand, Scrimgeour saw a massive shroud of black mist hovering above the alley, moving steadily toward a fixed point. Entire buildings were swallowed by the inky veil as it advanced.

"I've heard of this... somewhere before," one Auror muttered, his voice trembling.

Scrimgeour's face turned pale as he stared at the ominous scene. After a brief, stunned silence, he barked urgent orders: "Back to the Ministry! Everyone, move—now!"

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