17.
"This blood has worked wonders. Now… I can touch him…" Mortavius's voice cut through the walls like a Dementor's breath, and his blood-red eyes met those of the guardian, who recoiled as if struck in the chest. He fell backward, landing on his backside, crawling like a baby forgetting how to walk, pressing his back against the walls with terror threatening to consume his body.
"He's here… he… is… here."
"Who is here?" asked Vernon, approaching to peek out the window. As soon as Mundungus heard the question, he straightened himself.
"GET OUT NOW OR DIE!" Mundungus roared, grabbing Vernon and Petunia's hands.
"Take that filthy hand off me!" Vernon spat.
Mundungus ran and grabbed Dudley by the arm. He had no time to argue; his urgency was in escaping. Holding the boy firmly, a sharp crack echoed.
A thunderous boom reverberated, overshadowing everything happening in an instant. In that thousandth of a second, it was as if the world had gone silent—every sound disappearing only to return at maximum volume, shaking everything to its foundations. The window panes shattered, walls cracked, threatening to collapse.
Mundungus escaped by sheer luck, apparating directly into Arabella Figg's room, who awoke the instant the sounds reverberated in the neighboring house.
Electricity failed, lights flickered out, plunging the room into complete darkness.
Startled, Arabella gripped the fireplace poker like a sword. Only God knew how it ended up in her hands; her trembling fingers betrayed the fear her rigid stance tried to hide. Before she could speak, Mundungus stepped forward:
"It's me, woman…" he panted, still holding Dudley, whose pale face shone with traces of vomit.
Arabella recognized him immediately, lowering the makeshift weapon, her expression still alarmed.
"What the hell is happening, Fletcher?" her voice rougher than usual. Her gaze fell on Dudley, who, dazed, collapsed while vomiting on the bed.
"He's here…" Mundungus exclaimed urgently, pulling her away from the window. "The protections failed. We need to alert Dominus!"
Arabella placed a hand on her chest, fear etched across her face.
"Hadrian?!"
"The boy went out for a run. He's in Aurelio, but I need to find him!"
Without wasting time, Mundungus stumbled down to the living room, almost falling when he stepped on something soft that scampered away with a meow, and plunged his hand into the orb pulsing on the table, sending an urgent message to alert Dominus and the Order: "Protections Breached. Location Exposed. Mortavius! SOS"
"Merlin, help us."
Then he approached the window and peeked outside. What he saw made him catch his breath. The Dursleys' house was unrecognizable.
Shattered glass, cracked walls, the garden devastated. And, in the midst of chaos, an imposing figure waited patiently. Mortavius.
Moments later, three Death Eaters emerged from the house, dragging Vernon and Petunia Dursley as if they were mere rags.
Vernon let out a strange groan upon recognizing Mortavius. Petunia also understood who he was.
Vernon began stammering desperate pleas:
"We… we're good people! We're decent people!" His words mingled with tears and saliva.
Mortavius, indifferent, didn't even glance at them. Instead, he asked his followers:
"Any sign of the boy?"
"None, my Lord. We searched the house and the surroundings. If he fled, he didn't take his belongings."
"And we found this," one of the Death Eaters stepped forward and held up Hadrian's wand to Mortavius.
The Dark Lord ran his fingers over the wood, feeling its familiarity. His eyes closed.
"Where did you find it?"
"Near the lake, my Lord," the Death Eater replied. "The trace-free potion was used. We couldn't find a trail."
Mortavius understood immediately. No sane wizard would abandon their wand. Even if fleeing to save their own life, a wizard might leave behind possessions, money, clothes—but a wand was an extension of oneself. A bond impossible to break voluntarily.
This could only mean one thing. Someone had acted behind his back. Not the Order, much less the Ministry of Magic. But a hidden force bold enough to act right under his nose.
The air became suffocating for everyone nearby. The Dark Lord was enraged. In a fit of fury, he snapped the wand in half.
"Where is he?" he demanded, directing his cold gaze at Vernon. But he knew the poor man had no answer. He wanted to vent his frustration, and the unfortunate man was far too plump for his taste.
---