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Ch323- Who?

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Lucius glanced sideways at the remaining Death Eaters: Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and the Carrows. They all looked back, the same hesitancy flashing in their eyes. No one wanted to say it outright, but they all had the same thought—this wasn’t worth dying for.

Bellatrix, however, seemed oblivious to their doubts. She was lost in her own fervor, hurling curses wildly at the Aurors and laughing like a woman possessed. As far as she was concerned, this was a grand finale, a battle that would bring the Dark Lord’s legacy back to life.

“Cowards!” she snarled as she caught sight of Lucius retreating a step back. “Fight or die for him! This is what we pledged—”

But Lucius had already taken another step back, his expression stony. He was done with her madness. Without a word, he turned and strode toward the exit, motioning for Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott to follow. They hesitated only a moment before hurrying after him, leaving Bellatrix to fend for herself.

The Carrows exchanged a look, weighing their options. With Lucius gone and Dumbledore personally taking on Rookwood, the fight had taken a grim turn. Bellatrix's snarling threats meant little when her loyalists were scattered or incapacitated around her. Finally, with a shared nod, the Carrows slunk away, slipping into the shadows without a backward glance.

Bellatrix let out a furious scream, her curses becoming even more erratic as she realized her support was vanishing around her. “Traitors! All of you!” she shrieked, but it was too late. Her grip on the situation was slipping, and the Aurors could sense it.

With Lucius and the others gone, the Aurors pressed their advantage. Kingsley and Moody took the lead, advancing in coordinated attacks that left Bellatrix scrambling. Amelia Bones moved in alongside them, her wand steady as she fired a powerful Stunning Spell that Bellatrix barely managed to dodge.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was fully engaged with Rookwood. Their duel was fierce, their spells colliding with a force that reverberated through the narrow alley. Rookwood’s dark curses were relentless, each one crafted to maim or kill, but Dumbledore met every attack casually. He countered with defensive charms that deflected the brunt of Rookwood’s magic, his movements smooth and focused as he pushed Rookwood back, step by step.

“Running out of options, Augustus?” Dumbledore called, his tone calm but cutting. “You were always clever. Surely you see the futility here.”

Rookwood sneered, his wand slashing through the air. “You think you’ve won because you’re backed by a few Ministry lapdogs? Don’t delude yourself, Albus. This is only the beginning.”

“Then let’s end this beginning,” Dumbledore replied, his voice hardening. He flicked his wand, sending a surge of shimmering light directly at Rookwood. The former Unspeakable threw up a shield, but the force of the spell pushed him back, nearly knocking him off balance. Before Rookwood could fully recover, Dumbledore advanced, closing the distance and leaving him little room to maneuver.

Bellatrix, seeing Rookwood engaged and her followers gone, fought on with a desperation bordering on madness. She hurled curses with wild abandon, her face twisted in a fury that was almost animalistic. But even she knew she couldn’t hold out alone. Her spells were starting to falter, and the Aurors were closing in from all sides, their wands trained on her.

Kingsley moved in first, blocking a curse she fired in his direction and retaliating with a quick hex that knocked her back a step. Moody followed up with a well-aimed curse that Bellatrix barely managed to deflect, her expression frantic as she realized she was surrounded.

Amelia stepped forward, her wand aimed directly at Bellatrix’s chest. “It’s over, Lestrange. You have nowhere left to run.”

Bellatrix laughed, a high, deranged sound that echoed through the alley. “Over?” she spat, her eyes glinting with a manic light. “This will never be over! The Dark Lord will return, and he will burn you all to ash!”

Kingsley shook his head, his gaze hardening. “You’re done, Bellatrix. Surrender, or face the consequences.”

Bellatrix’s hand twitched, her grip tightening on her wand as she cast one last curse. “I’ll never surrender to you filthy blood traitors and mudbloods!”

But the curse went wide, and in that instant, Amelia seized the opportunity. She fired a powerful Stunning Spell, catching Bellatrix square in the chest. Bellatrix staggered, her laughter cutting off abruptly as the spell hit her with full force. She slumped to the ground, her wand slipping from her grasp.

Bellatrix grimaced in pain, cursing at her carelessness. Finding her lord after all those years, now she had got herself caught once again. Despite the grotesque form her lord had taken when she last saw him—something barely recognizable, writhing in a makeshift cradle under Pettigrew’s shaky care—she served him still. Her current mission to the British Isles had seemed simple: recover an ancient item her lord lent her before his fall, a powerful relic her lord claimed would restore his strength. But what she hadn’t anticipated was the state of things when she arrived.

Many so-called Death Eaters were thriving, mingling within pure-blood society as if the war had never happened. They were seated at prestigious tables, basking in comfort rather than preparing for their master’s return. The sight of them living as if the Dark Lord’s mission had never touched their lives stirred a fury in her she hadn’t felt in years. It was a betrayal of everything she believed in. As far as Bellatrix was concerned, they had betrayed their oaths.

When she realized Fudge, the bumbling fool who done nothing to contain the spread of so-called ‘manipulated’ Death Eaters, was the one enabling this hypocrisy, she felt compelled to act. A single, decisive action to remind them all of their duty. She found Fudge and assassinated him without a moment's hesitation, knowing that taking out the Minister of Magic would send a shockwave through the magical world. His death would leave chaos in his wake and rattle the Ministry enough to shake any remaining loyalties free.

After that, her mission turned more into a purge than a simple gathering. She targeted each escapee who slipped out of punishment under the guise of being ‘controlled’ by the Dark Lord. Hypocrites, every one of them. She didn’t care how many of her fellow Death Eaters fell in the process; if they weren’t loyal, they didn’t deserve to return to his side anyway.

But today was meant to be the culmination of her efforts. She arranged this meeting, calling together those she deemed worthy, those who would take action instead of wasting away in luxury. She intended to gather their strength, retrieve her Lord’s relic, and return with him to power. Unfortunately, she ignored Lucius’ warnings about the meeting place’s lack of security. Lucius had wanted a safer location, one with clearer escape routes and fewer chances of interruption. But Bellatrix brushed him off, too blinded by her purpose to care. Her anger was her fuel, and she couldn’t afford to let fear undermine her plan.

Still, she hadn’t been completely reckless. She prepared a Portkey for their quick escape. Her followers had begun gathering, and she had just finished rallying them when the Ministry’s forces struck. The Aurors attacked fast, and just as they began to realize the extent of the ambush, Bellatrix learned the hard way that the Aurors had been quicker than she expected—they already put up Anti-Portkey wards around the area. There would be no escape this time.

As Bellatrix was wallowing in desperation, from the shadows, a tall figure stepped forward, his gait relaxed, but with an air that made the alley’s already tense atmosphere drop to an icy chill. He looked almost like a specter, as though he had walked right out of their darkest memories.

The man was unmistakably “Albus Riddle,” though with the carefully crafted appearance that Harry had designed specifically for moments like this—dark, piercing eyes, the familiar brown hair combed back, and a near-flawless resemblance to Tom Riddle.

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