HP: The Duelist of Hogwarts - 463

Chapter 463: Everyone Changes Sides

“Indeed, it has been a long time, Tom.”

As Sean spoke, Voldemort’s smoky silhouette solidified, coalescing into his true body. Black vapour coiled up around Sean as well, smashing into the darkness billowing from Voldemort’s robes.

There was a resounding crack.

Both men slid back a step. Voldemort merely extended one pale hand. A tendril of black smoke lashed out, hooked Bellatrix by the robes and dragged her to his side. With a flick, he flung her into the nearest fireplace. She vanished in a surge of emerald flame.

Sean watched him with a thin, cold smile.

“If memory serves,” he said, “she is Rodolphus Lestrange’s wife, is she not?”

“So what?” Voldemort hissed. “What are you implying?”

With his eyes narrowed to slits, he looked more snakelike than ever.

Sean chuckled.

“Nothing in particular,” he said. “Only that for a supposed great leader to fool around with his own follower’s wife is… rather low, Tom.”

“Silence! Avada Kedavra!”

“Thunderclap!”

Green light and blue‑white lightning roared from their wands at the same instant, colliding mid‑air with a deafening impact. Power crackled outwards in jagged arcs, tearing through the atrium.

At that moment, Harry and the others burst out of the Department of Mysteries.

They froze, staring across the hall at Sean locked in a contest of raw magic with Voldemort, identical expressions of stunned disbelief on each face.

More black smoke streamed from the doorway behind them, fanning out to surround them.

Before the shadows could close in, emerald fire exploded to life in the fireplaces all around the atrium. Members of the Order of the Phoenix stepped out of the Floo in ones and twos, their bodies blurring into streaks of white mist as they hurled themselves at the onrushing black clouds.

At the same time, more green flames flared to life.

Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden arrived, flanked by Amelia Bones, Rufus Scrimgeour, and a mass of Ministry officials and Aurors. Among them stood more than a few members of the Wizengamot.

They all saw him.

Voldemort, locked in a deadly duel with Sean.

Faces went slack with horror.

They had been warned, of course. They had braced themselves. But each of them had secretly nursed the same tiny hope—that Dumbledore had finally lost his grip on reality, that Sean had been tricked by illusions, that the Dark Lord’s return was nothing more than hysteria and paranoia.

Now the truth stood in front of them, real and terrible.

Their fragile hopes were shattered.

They were forced to stare at the one thing they had least wanted to face.

“The Dark Lord. It really is the Dark Lord…”

“Dumbledore was right. He has come back.”

“Those over there… is that the Order of the Phoenix fighting the Death Eaters? If the Dark Lord truly is back, then the Order members must be on our side, mustn’t they?”

“But Harry Potter and Sirius Black did kill Cornelius. That part is true!”

“True? Says who? Umbridge? Or Borel Bulstrode?”

“And how do you know they were lying?” another wizard shot back. “They were wrong about the Dark Lord’s return, yes. But that does not prove Fudge was not killed by Potter and Black. Unless someone can prove Umbridge and Borel are with the Dark Lord, then—”

In the midst of their heated argument, a voice rose that was at once familiar and utterly out of place here.

“Perhaps I can provide that proof,” it said calmly. “My youngest son, Borel, really is a Death Eater under Voldemort.”

Every head turned.

Even Marchbanks and the others stared in disbelief at one of the fireplaces.

From the spinning green flames stepped a tall man in a perfectly cut coat, hair slicked back, boots polished, every detail of his appearance as immaculate as ever.

Gavin Bulstrode.

“I can confirm,” Gavin said, “that my son Borel, together with members of the Flint family and several Death Eaters, once joined forces to hunt me down. In the end, Voldemort himself moved in for the kill. I survived only by using a certain magical artefact to fake my death by a narrow margin.

“Of course, I am quite willing to submit to any examination you choose, to prove that I am indeed Gavin Bulstrode, and that every word I say is true. I can also confirm that Borel Bulstrode and Dolores Umbridge have already pledged themselves to Voldemort as Death Eaters. It was they who murdered Fudge and framed Harry Potter and Sirius Black for the crime.

“In fact, a little Veritaserum on those involved at the time would be enough to show you exactly who is guilty.”

Before the echoes of his words had faded, the flames in the same hearth flared again.

Delice, Barrett and Jennifer stepped out in turn and came to stand at Gavin’s side. One after another, they faced the assembled Ministry crowd and spoke.

“I can testify,” Delice said first, “that the late Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, secretly accepted the backing of numerous pure‑blood families, and in return did many things for them—including, but not limited to, helping Lucius Malfoy scrub away his Death Eater brand and related charges, illegally promoting Dolores Umbridge to the post of Senior Undersecretary and then acting Minister, and targeting Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.”

As soon as Delice fell silent, Barrett stepped smoothly in.

“I can testify,” he said, “that the Slytherin Brotherhood has maintained covert ties with the Death Eaters, recruiting for them inside the Ministry. Many of the pure‑blood families within the Brotherhood have had dealings, to greater or lesser degrees, with the Dark Lord’s followers. I can also confirm that the Brotherhood has, on numerous occasions, secretly manipulated the Daily Prophet on behalf of Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge, forcing the paper to print exactly what they wanted.”

Their words laid bare the rot at the heart of the Ministry: the pure‑blood faction’s corruption and their tacit support for the Death Eaters.

Jennifer drew in a deep breath.

Her face had gone pale, but her eyes were steady.

“I can testify,” she said, “that most of the core members of the Flint family have already gone over to Voldemort and become his Death Eaters.

“If necessary, I am willing to put justice above blood. I will personally lead you to the Flint estate, so we can arrest the family’s main members and have them tried, then sent to Azkaban where they belong.”

Even Gavin glanced at her then.

By blood, Jennifer was almost his granddaughter. He had never been close to the Flint family—he had disliked them for years—and so their ties were thin. Still, to hear her not only betray her own house but offer to lead the charge against it…

Gavin did not need to ask whose handiwork this was.

Sean’s.

The only question was how.

Until today, no one would have guessed that these three were Sean’s people.

And more importantly…

Were they the only ones?

Or were they merely the first to step into the light?