Pent Up Anger

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Ethan clearly heard the sickening crack of the boy's bones shattering. The sight made it evident—falling from such a height, a child so small could not have survived.

For a moment, even the group of Death Eaters seemed taken aback by what had happened. But their shock quickly gave way to laughter.

"Good job!" one of them boasted loudly, as others jeered and sneered.

Across the field, the Aurors stood frozen in horror, their expressions hardening into a collective mask of rage.

Penelope's eyes brimmed with tears as she stared at the lifeless body sprawled on the ground.

Above them, the Roberts family, still held aloft by magic, let out a heart-wrenching wail of despair. Their cries echoed in the night, filled with the anguish of people who could not comprehend why their world had descended into such cruelty.

"Why are you crying?!" shouted a Death Eater impatiently, his wand pointing toward the family.

"It's your turn next!"

"Now!" Ethan roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.

"Confringo!" he bellowed, his wand aimed at the wizard who had killed the boy.

A powerful blast surged forward, far more destructive than the spell was typically intended to be. The dark wizard had no chance. The curse struck him with brutal force, and his body exploded into blood and shards of bone, spraying the surrounding Death Eaters.

The eruption of violence threw the Death Eaters into disarray. Screams filled the air as confusion spread among them.

At the same time, the Roberts family, suddenly released from their magical suspension, plummeted toward the ground. But the Aurors, acting on Ethan's earlier instructions, caught them just in time with a coordinated use of the Floating Charm.

"Secure the family!" Ethan commanded, his focus already returning to the battle.

"Take down the rest!"

The students he had trained reacted instantly, unleashing a barrage of powerful spells. Bright jets of magic sliced through the chaos, slamming into disoriented Death Eaters.

The air was filled with the sharp, distinct sound of bones snapping as curses found their marks. Several Death Eaters were blasted off their feet, their bodies crashing to the ground in crumpled heaps, their fates uncertain.

The remaining Death Eaters scrambled to respond. Casting Shield Charms, they began to counterattack, their curses clashing with spells from the students and Aurors.

But the tide was turning. The combined might of the Aurors and the Magic Crisis Response Team steadily overpowered the attackers.

What had begun as a display of dominance by the Death Eaters had become a disaster. Among them were not only Voldemort's loyal followers but also opportunists—pure-blood sympathizers and petty criminals drawn to the chaos.

Many of them had underestimated the Ministry's resolve, assuming that any punishment would amount to little more than a temporary stay in Azkaban, which had lost its fearsome reputation since the Dementors were removed.

Now, confronted with Ethan's fierce retaliation, their bravado crumbled. His earlier brutal executions of Barty Crouch Jr. and Peter Pettigrew had already struck fear into their ranks, and the mounting casualties only deepened their terror.

The Aurors fought with precision, their magic honed to disable rather than kill. But the Magic Crisis Response Team—Ethan's team—was less forgiving.

Their relentless and deadly assault left no room for mercy. The Death Eaters who remained standing began to falter, their confidence giving way to panic.

The battlefield was a chaotic blend of screams, curses, and explosions, but the outcome was becoming clear. Victory was tilting firmly toward the Ministry of Magic.

The crossbow bolts tore through the Protego Charms as if they were paper, embedding themselves deeply in the Death Eaters' bodies.

It didn't take long before the Death Eaters began to suffer significant losses. Their numbers dwindled rapidly under the relentless assault of the Magic Crisis Response Team.

The team's performance exceeded even Ethan's expectations. Despite the chaos around them, they maintained calm, launching their attacks with precision and order. The panic among the Death Eaters only fueled their determination.

Years of pent-up anger over the atrocities these Death Eaters had committed against Muggles burned in the hearts of the students.

They showed no hesitation, no mercy. With wands in their right hands and crossbows in their left, they attacked with unflinching resolve.

Their aim was deadly. Sharp arrows pierced through throats and hearts, ending lives before the victims could even scream. The battlefield was soon littered with the bodies of Death Eaters, their blood staining the ground.

Eventually, the Death Eaters' resolve shattered. Panic-stricken, they cast hasty Shield Charms and turned to flee. But their escape route was swiftly cut off.

Alastor Moody and his team of Aurors blocked their retreat, and in a matter of moments, Moody subdued the remaining Death Eaters with a few well-placed spells.

As the dust settled, Moody approached Ethan with long, purposeful strides. His magical eye whirled, scanning the carnage and the lifeless bodies strewn across the ground.

"Ethan," Moody barked, his voice laced with shock.

"What the hell happened here? Who are these lunatics?" His magical eye locked onto the corpses, his expression darkening.

"God, Ethan! Did you kill all of them? This is against the rules!" Moody's voice rose, a mixture of anger and disbelief.

In the distance, the sounds of chaos continued—screams, explosions, and laughter echoed from the camp. Ethan turned, his face grim.

"They're slaughtering Muggles, Moody," Ethan said, his tone sharp.

Moody's usual gruff demeanor faltered as he took in the scene—the small, broken body of the boy, lying cold and lifeless on the ground, and the Roberts family, trembling as Aurors comforted them.

Moody had a reputation as a tough but principled enforcer of justice.

In the 1970s, he had used brutal but non-lethal methods to reform Death Eaters, breaking noses and knees when necessary but always staying within the bounds of Ministry law. His methods were harsh, but his sense of justice was unshakable.

Now, faced with Ethan's actions, his expression hardened.

"Ethan, you've violated Ministry law—again!" Moody exclaimed, his voice rising.

"You can't just kill them! You're a law enforcement officer, not a hangman!"

Moody's frustration was palpable. Ethan's previous massacre in Knockturn Alley had already tested his patience, but he had let it go under pressure from Dumbledore and Fudge. This time, however, there was no ignoring it.

"You could have incapacitated them!" Moody continued, his voice shaking with both anger and disbelief.

"You could have used spells to stun them, disable them. But no—you killed them! How are you any different from the people you're fighting?"

Ethan's gaze didn't waver. He pointed toward the boy's small, lifeless body, then toward the Roberts family, still sobbing as Aurors tended to them.

"Look at them, Moody," Ethan said quietly but firmly.

"They didn't deserve this. Someone had to stop it."

Moody's normal eye flickered with conflict, a brief struggle of emotions crossing his face. But his principles held.

"They should be judged by the Ministry for their crimes, not executed on the spot!" Moody shot back.

"We enforce the law, Ethan. We don't make ourselves judge, jury, and executioner."

Ethan's amber eyes locked onto Moody's. His voice was low, steady, and cold.

"Maybe the difference is," he said slowly, "I'm protecting good people and fighting criminals. Tell me, Moody, are you going to arrest me now?"

Moody hesitated. The righteous fire in his voice began to dim, replaced by uncertainty.

Ethan's unyielding gaze held him in place, their silent standoff stretching for what felt like an eternity.