Ancient Spell

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Hogwarts had not started the school year yet, and the castle lay silent under the dark night sky.

In the quiet corridors, the only sound was the echo of Harry's footsteps mingling with his companions.

The group strained to climb Hogwarts' complex staircases, hurrying towards the headmaster's office. Tension crackled in the air as they pushed forward, urgency evident in every step.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appeared in their path. Harry, already on edge, recoiled in surprise.

Everyone's relief was palpable when the figure stepped into the dim light, revealing Professor Snape.

He stood there, his hooked nose prominent, his greasy black hair framing a pale, sallow face that looked even more wan than usual.

Lucius Malfoy's gaze flicked to Snape's hand, which bore the mark of Voldemort. It hung at his side, trembling slightly.

Lucius immediately understood that the Dark Mark was causing Snape intense pain.

"What's happened to all of you?"

Snape's suspicious gaze swept over the group, taking in their disheveled appearances.

His voice carried its usual sneer.

Sirius stepped forward and quickly explained the chaos at the Quidditch World Cup, detailing the Death Eaters' riot.

Snape's eyes widened at the news, the faintest flicker of concern betraying his otherwise stoic demeanor.

His gaze darted to Harry, subtly scanning him for injuries. Once satisfied that Harry was unharmed, Snape's expression hardened again.

"Lucius, you and Black should go to Dumbledore," Snape instructed curtly.

"As for Mrs. Malfoy and the others, follow me. I'll find you a place to rest."

Sirius hesitated, glancing worriedly at Harry. But with a firm nod, he and Lucius turned and hurried towards the headmaster's office.

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Meanwhile, at the campsite, the chaos caused by the Death Eaters was slowly coming under control. Aurors launched an organized counterattack, dismantling the mob of dark wizards with precision.

Ethan stood amidst the fray, wand raised, directing his team with calm efficiency. He heeded Moody's earlier warning to avoid unnecessary bloodshed but didn't hold back.

Curses flew from his wand—the Dirt Curse, the Drowning Curse, the Skinning Curse, and the Torture Curse—each spell striking true.

The targeted Death Eaters collapsed, writhing on the ground in agony, their ability to fight completely obliterated.

Within moments, the field around Ethan was littered with incapacitated enemies.

Moody, having finished dealing with his own group of adversaries, limped towards Ethan. He surveyed the scene, his magical eye swiveling in its socket.

Noting that Ethan had restrained himself from lethal force, Moody's hardened expression softened slightly.

"Good work, Ethan," Moody grunted, his tone begrudgingly approving.

"You handled it well."

Around them, the sounds of battle diminished. With a sharp series of cracks, reinforcements arrived.

Lines of Aurors and Hit Wizards appeared, leading iron-caged carriages pulled by flying horses. Without ceremony, they began hauling the defeated Death Eaters into the cages.

The captives were treated without care, their injuries ignored as they were shoved into the cramped carriages. Those who protested received swift, brutal responses from the Aurors.

After a while, all the Death Eaters within Ethan's sight had been subdued.

"Ethan, we have to deal with this Dark Mark. It's too ugly to leave hanging here," Moody said, his expression strained.

Moody and the other Aurors had already attempted to dispel the Dark Mark, but their efforts were in vain.

The mark seemed to be protected by an exceptionally clever enchantment. Allowing such a sinister symbol to linger in the sky was a direct challenge to the authority of the Ministry of Magic.

Ethan raised his wand, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the green, hideous skull-and-serpent symbol floating ominously above them.

"Dispel!" Ethan commanded, his voice firm.

A pale white spell shot into the sky, striking the Dark Mark precisely. But the symbol remained unyielding and malevolent.

"We've tried this," Moody said, shaking his head.

"Dispelling spells, vanishing spells, and even containment spells. Nothing works."

Ethan frowned, his mind racing. This was indeed a vexing problem. After a moment of contemplation, his expression shifted as an idea struck him.

Raising his wand again, he muttered an intricate incantation in Latin.

"Dispelle, Evanescere, Purgare," he intoned.

A brilliant white beam of magic surged into the sky, striking the Dark Mark with precision. This time, the spell worked.

The grotesque green skull shattered into fragments, dissolving into nothingness.

Moody's magical eye swiveled toward Ethan, wide with astonishment.

"Ethan, you know ancient spells?" he asked, his tone laced with surprise.

Ancient spells had largely vanished from the wizarding world, their knowledge lost to time. Seeing Ethan employ such a spell was nothing short of extraordinary.

"Just this one," Ethan replied calmly.

He had come across the spell by chance while perusing Salazar Slytherin's spell book.

Though he'd memorized it out of curiosity, he hadn't expected it to be so effective in practice.

Before they could continue their discussion, a gentle but authoritative voice interrupted.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," it said from behind them.

Both men turned, their gazes lifting in surprise. An extraordinarily tall woman stood before them, her presence commanding.

She was nearly as tall as Hagrid but carried herself with an elegance that contrasted sharply with his rugged demeanor.

Her features were striking: a beautiful olive complexion, deep black eyes that shimmered with intelligence, and a sharp, noble nose.

Her hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and her black robes, adorned with opals, exuded sophistication.

Ethan immediately recognized her and offered a polite smile.

The woman seemed unfazed by their stunned reactions, clearly accustomed to drawing attention.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said.

"I am Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic."

"Good evening, Madame Maxime. How may we assist you?" Ethan asked, his tone courteous.