As countless thoughts flitted through Professor Ilona's mind, Snape reached into his bag and pulled out the empty vial.
Professor McGonagall, her gaze fixed on the few remaining drops of liquid inside the vial that shimmered with an alluring glow, asked curiously:
"Professor Snape, is this the Felix Felicis given to Marcus?"
Snape's usually stern expression shifted into a sneer as he replied:
"Indeed, it is Felix Felicis... a defective version."
Seeing the puzzled looks around him, Snape explained with a disdainful tone:
"It's evident that someone put a lot of effort into brewing this potion, but unfortunately, it's still a failed attempt. Felix Felicis is not so easily perfected."
As he spoke, Snape instinctively straightened his posture and continued:
"They used quality ingredients, but they overdid it, diminishing the potion's efficacy. At best, this so-called Felix Felicis would provide nothing more than a fleeting sense of confidence."
With that, Snape casually tossed the glass vial onto Dumbledore's desk.
Hearing Snape's assessment, the gathered professors at Hogwarts collectively exhaled in relief. Professor Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff, patted her chest repeatedly and exclaimed:
"Thank goodness! Thank goodness!"
Professor Ilona, too, felt a wave of relief wash over her. Thankfully, the potion hadn't achieved its intended effect. Had the Felix Felicis worked as it should—combined with a curse and Marcus's determination to kill Wentworth—the danger to Wentworth would have been real this time.
While the professors at Hogwarts were counting their blessings, elsewhere, the mood at the British Ministry of Magic was far less cheerful. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, surveyed the chaos within the Ministry with a dark expression. Turning to a witch beside him—a woman with loose, sagging skin, a broad face, and curly hair—he snapped:
"Damn it, where's Rufus Scrimgeour? Where has he run off to? Does he even know what's happening in London right now? As the Head of the Auror Office, how dare he disappear at such a time?!"
The witch, in a sharp, simpering voice, replied:
"Minister Fudge, I've never doubted your brilliance as our leader, but I must say, you've been far too lenient with some of the staff here. You must understand, Minister, that not everyone appreciates your kindness. Sometimes, you need to be firmer."
Fudge nodded slowly, seemingly convinced, and said:
"You're right, Madam Umbridge. It seems I've been far too indulgent, allowing some people to grow too arrogant."
Umbridge readily agreed:
"Exactly, Minister! You're the Minister for Magic! Everything here should go as you say."
Just then, Rufus Scrimgeour returned to the Ministry, leading a group of Aurors back from Knockturn Alley. Without so much as a greeting to Fudge or Umbridge, he began issuing rapid orders to his team:
"You two, take these detainees downstairs for questioning. Get actionable intelligence as quickly as possible."
"You—send owls to all Aurors currently on leave. Cancel all vacations immediately. Everyone is to report for duty. Prepare for combat."
Fudge and Umbridge stood by, watching Scrimgeour escort several wizards back and coordinate operations. They were momentarily stunned by the scene. Once they processed what was happening, Fudge stormed over to Scrimgeour, his tone sharp:
"Rufus Scrimgeour! Where have you been? Do you have any idea what's going on outside?!"
Scrimgeour glanced at the Minister and nodded gravely before replying:
"Yes, Minister, I know. That's the symbol of the Pureblood Party. Grindelwald is summoning his followers."
Fudge's eye twitched slightly before he erupted:
"Of course I know it's the Pureblood Party! And of course I know Grindelwald is rallying his followers! What I'm asking is why his supporters are here in London, right under our noses! Grindelwald is supposed to be locked up in that damned Nurmengard!"
Scrimgeour paused for a moment before deciding to reveal the truth. He replied cautiously:
"I believe it's because I captured some members of the Pureblood Party—Grindelwald's followers."
Fudge and Umbridge gasped audibly at this revelation. Fudge even stumbled back a few steps.
Then, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Fudge practically jumped as he pointed at Scrimgeour and shouted:
"Damn it! What have you done? Why wasn't I informed about this? Rufus Scrimgeour, you may be the Head of the Auror Office, but never forget—I am the Minister for Magic!"
Scrimgeour quickly began explaining:
"Minister, it was an urgent matter. The suspects were poised to flee London. Once we received the tip-off, we had to act immediately…"
He then succinctly recounted the events to Fudge and Umbridge.
When he finished, Umbridge interjected before Fudge could react:
"So, you're saying that the Pureblood Party isn't just planning destruction in London but may also be targeting the Ministry itself?"
Fudge turned to Scrimgeour, his face tense, clearly hoping for a denial. Instead, Scrimgeour gravely nodded.
At that moment, Fudge felt his heart race wildly.
Scrimgeour, his tone heavy, added:
"Minister, I believe we must prepare for war."
Fudge stared blankly at Scrimgeour, struggling to comprehend how easily the word "war" had been uttered. For a moment, he was at a loss—unsure of how to respond or what to do next.
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