"I have come for Red," he stated with a solemnity that made the air around the table seem to grow dense.
"Ah, yes. Bad place to look for him. He hasn't shown his face around here," Tonks replied with a lightness that bordered on disdain.
"This is serious, Nymphadora. It is possible that Red has gotten himself into trouble of a magnitude that even he is incapable of grasping," the Headmaster said, emphasizing each word like a hammer blow. "And I am not just talking about his own safety, but the fate of his entire family."
"As always, right?" Tonks let out a short, dry laugh, devoid of humor. However, out of the residual respect she still held for the old man, she straightened in her chair and hardened her gaze. "Look, Professor, I'm not going to betray him. Don't expect anything from me. Even if I knew where he was hiding, which I didn't, as I had long since stopped monitoring his steps, I wouldn't tell you. I've learned that fighting against Red's current is a waste of time. It's much better to learn how to surf it."
"But he's about to get himself killed!" Dumbledore exclaimed, half-rising from his seat.
Incredulity overwhelmed him. It terrified him to see how a brilliant and bold young woman like Tonks seemed to have completely surrendered to blind loyalty. That absolute devotion evoked dangerous echoes of the past; the memory of other charismatic men who turned their followers into iron pawns began to cloud his judgment regarding the young Weasley.
"I don't think there's anything in this world capable of killing him and coming out on top," Tonks sighed. A small smile appeared on her lips as she felt the feather boa tighten against her neck—a protective gesture toward its father. "Look, I don't know where he is. Since he returned from Brazil, he's harder to find; his movements are more erratic... When all this is over, the waters will calm, but right now I can't help you. And even if I could, I wouldn't contact him unless it was strictly necessary. I don't want to interrupt his plans."
"Nymphadora... you are making a disastrous decision," Dumbledore declared. His gaze—the one that used to disarm rulers and Death Eaters alike—locked onto hers with frigid seriousness.
Tonks held his gaze. She lacked the old man's century of experience and his piercing aura, but she maintained an expression of absolute indifference, reaffirming her position on the board.
"I may have been wrong in the past, Professor, but now... there are no mistakes. I am happy. With my family, with my work, with my life. With everything," she said, relaxing her posture and allowing the tip of the bottle to reach the body of the feather boa. "Although, sometimes, I feel like kicking him in the balls... pardon the language."
Dumbledore contemplated the woman in front of him with a mixture of horror and fascination. That vivacious girl was now a woman who seemed to have survived a thousand hardships and yet still chose the side of chaos. His fear for the future reached a new level; his old heart was not prepared to witness the rise of another figure as magnetic and dangerous as Red.
The Headmaster stood up with the weight of years and placed a few coins on the table to pay for the ice cream, giving Tonks one last look filled with pity.
"There's no need to pay, Professor," she stopped him, standing up as well. "You were a great Headmaster; you forgave me for far too many pranks in my student days. Consider this on the house... always. After all, it's not like we're going to lack for anything... ever." Tonks gave a light laugh before delivering one final thrust: "Look, I know his plans. And while I can't say for certain, this 'problem' at the Ministry is just an insignificant event compared to the ultimate goal."
Dumbledore's heart skipped a beat. Those words, spoken so lightly, revived ghosts.
"But it's nothing bad. In fact, it's just him being a bit... exaggerated," Tonks let out a roar of laughter. "He's an idiot who needs to put on a world-class show for something that could be simple. But I like that about him; at least it shows how much he cares about them."
Tonks said goodbye with a tender kiss to the feather boa and began walking toward the inner offices. Dumbledore, his pulse racing and his mind in a whirlwind, watched her back until she stopped at the threshold of the door.
"Ah, one more thing, Professor. If you truly crave to see him, you don't need to wait for him to return to the Ministry. As a good manager of this establishment, I should recommend you hire our investigation services," she pointed to the counter with a casual gesture. "But I warn you: the information they give you will be true, it will seem useful... but it will be for nothing. You won't be able to reach him."
With that, Tonks disappeared behind the door, leaving Albus Dumbledore alone amidst the opulence of "Dragons of Albion," with the bitter taste of butterscotch in his mouth.
...
The event became, overnight, the new "hot potato" of the British wizarding world. The narrative was irresistible to the public: a clash of lineages, an old-fashioned duel challenge, and a young man carrying a cursed object brought from the jungles of Brazil. Although news of the missing students abroad also leaked, those most affected were the elderly Augusta Longbottom and Hannah Abbott's parents, who flocked to Hogwarts in droves. Dumbledore barely had time to cross the castle's threshold before being forced to console the families and assure them that everything was under control, internally thanking Minerva for resuming her post to manage the administrative chaos.
At the Burrow, the impact was abysmal. Molly Weasley nearly fainted upon learning the magnitude of the challenge.
However, the true explosion occurred the next morning. A tide of owls flooded the sky, delivering a special edition of the Daily Prophet with a front-page story that paralyzed the nation. The magical photograph captured the Ministry Atrium in all its splendor: the place where the challenge took place, a blurred crowd. Photos of the Weasleys and Malfoys were split into special sections. Rita Skeeter had turned the incident into a bestseller, distilling venom and sensationalism in every line, just as expected of her.
Hogwarts was no exception. The Great Hall, usually filled with morning chatter, fell into a tense silence as the newspapers were unfurled. At first, there were only whispers, but when the figures on the cover were recognized, the atmosphere shifted. The gazes of hundreds of students began to gravitate, as if drawn by a magnet, toward the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables.
The Weasley brothers, who didn't pay for their own subscription and usually read a classmate's copy, took a second to grasp the situation. The twins, their instincts alert, snatched the newspaper from Lee Jordan in one go. Percy, though slower than usual due to exhaustion, sharpened his hearing upon catching the family name and centered all his attention on the print.
For his part, Draco Malfoy was also dragged into the center of the hurricane. Initially, he maintained his usual air of superiority; to him, his distinguished family appearing in the newspaper was nothing new. Only when his housemates urged him with pressing whispers did he deign to read the content, and his expression changed.
Even "the girls," who that day had decided to eat breakfast in the Great Hall to give Susan a break in the kitchen, were frozen by the news. They were scattered at their respective tables, chatting with other classmates, when the headlines hit them like a slap in the face:
"CLASH OF LINEAGES: BLOOD HONOR AT STAKE!"
"MALFOY VS. WEASLEY: THE RETURN OF THE BLOOD DUEL!"
"THE MYSTERIOUS WEASLEY HEIR: MAD OR POSSESSED?"
The phrases flew from table to table, growing in volume and aggression. The noise was already deafening enough to alarm the professors at the High Table, who exchanged worried glances.
"What does this mean? Red was supposed to be in Brazil!" exclaimed a Hufflepuff girl, pointing to the moving photo on the cover.
"A Retribution Duel? A blood feud? I didn't know they still did those," murmured a Slytherin student, caught between fascination and fear.
"Look at this!" a third-year Ravenclaw shouted. "It says he has a cursed object from the Amazon... A wand with a Jarjacha hair core! They claim it has already devoured the souls of its previous owners."
The Weasley twins were surrounded. Their Gryffindor housemates bombarded them with questions, but they could barely process what they were reading. Although Arthur had given them a softened version to avoid alarming them, Rita Skeeter's incendiary prose was revealing a much darker and more distorted reality.
"WEASLEY!" Draco Malfoy's shout cut through the murmur like a whip.
Draco stood up, his chest puffed out with inherited indignation. In Red's absence, his arrogance flourished; he knew he wouldn't dare hold the gaze of that Weasley, whose reputation already kept even the most ambitious Slytherins at bay. Even without his ability, Red had a good relationship with many people in the school—especially the girls, due to the creation of the "nest" and the "den"—and that alone made him terrifying. But facing Ron and the twins, Draco felt safe.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Malfoy roared, receiving approval from his house. "Does your family of paupers have a death wish? You dare to challenge the Malfoys?!"
"Shut your mouth, Malfoy!" Fred snapped, without even looking up from the newspaper, focused on deciphering the technical details of what had happened.
"If you think you can insult our name and walk away unscathed, you're crazier than I thought," Draco continued, growing in pride at the support of his followers. "The Malfoys will never bite the dust before a line of blood traitors."
While the Slytherins closest to Draco laughed and cheered—whether out of shared opinion regarding the Weasleys or simply to gain favor with his family—the atmosphere at the snake table was not unanimous. Not everyone shared Malfoy's blindness; there were those who knew Red.
*THUD*
The sharp strike of a hand against wood made the silver goblets jump. Daphne Greengrass had slammed her copy of the Daily Prophet against the table with unusual violence.
"You should be very careful what you wish for, Draco," Daphne said. Her voice was low but charged with a cold warning, though it didn't silence those nearby. "Red doesn't usually do anything by chance. If he has issued a challenge, there's a reason for it... I'm only warning you as a housemate."
Daphne stood up, masterfully hiding the trembling of her hands behind a mask of aristocratic coldness, and left the table without looking back. Her departure was the signal. At different points in the Great Hall, the other girls in the group stood up in unison. Hermione, Susan, Cho... all those present exchanged quick glances and left the hall with urgent steps, ignoring the whispers that followed them. They needed to meet, warn the others, and discuss it... perhaps not everyone knew how serious this was, but the expressions of those who did were enough to worry them all.