Chapter 1282: The Rescue Mission
Chapter 1282: The Rescue Mission
"Back already?"
As soon as Isabel saw Albert, she rushed over to give him a tight hug, carefully inspecting him to ensure he was unharmed before finally heaving a sigh of relief.
"Don't worry, dear. How's Alice?"
Albert kissed Isabel's flustered cheek, attempting to distract her with affection.
"She ate her fill and fell asleep again," Isabel replied, holding him close. She was all too aware of what had transpired that night.
"What about Scrimgeour?" Katrina, equally relieved to see Albert, poured him a cup of tea.
"He's probably... dead," Albert answered. "Even though Scrimgeour took the Felix Felicis, I doubt it could have saved him. After all, it's not a true luck potion; it can't bring genuine good fortune."
In truth, Albert had anticipated Scrimgeour's fate, especially after the man had refused his initial proposal and chosen to gamble with his life.
Although Scrimgeour did have a slim chance, once he used the decoy to attract the attention of the mysterious figure, Voldemort was unlikely to tolerate his continued existence.
It remained to be seen if Scrimgeour had managed to defeat all the captured Death Eaters and reclaim the Ministry of Magic, or if...
No, that possibility was exceedingly low.
Albert didn't believe those sluggish individuals could have evacuated before Voldemort and his Death Eaters arrived. If Scrimgeour had defeated all the Death Eaters only to be cornered by Voldemort himself, the outcome would likely be grim.
However, that was the worst-case scenario, and Albert didn't think the situation would deteriorate to that extent.
After all, Scrimgeour had taken the Felix Felicis; he must have had a plan to handle the situation, especially since Albert hadn't stayed. Scrimgeour wouldn't be foolish enough to directly challenge Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
"So, the British wizarding world is about to descend into complete chaos?" Katrina couldn't fathom how dire the situation might become.
"Don't worry," Albert said as he took a sip of tea. "The British wizards can endure this. Perhaps they won't live comfortably, but they will be able to bear the pressure."
He knew this all too well.
Even if the end of the world was upon them, what could they do? Life would go on, and they could only await the catastrophe, expending everything they had to endure the destructive disaster.
Only a small fraction would have the courage to stand up and resist, and the afflicted Muggle-born wizards might meet their end in Azkaban. However, they constituted only a small portion of the entire wizarding population.
Albert had never believed that his insignificant warnings could reverse the course of events that were merely glossed over in the original novels. Only a minority of Muggle-born wizards would heed his warnings, become vigilant, and take action; the majority were accustomed to going with the flow.
As for how brutal the future would be, Albert didn't want to think about it. However, he believed in the existence of the Defense Association, which could offer a glimmer of hope.
"What are you thinking about?"
Isabel leaned over to kiss Albert's cheek before calling for a house-elf to bring their dinner. They had attended Bill and Fleur's wedding, but aside from some pumpkin juice at the reception, they hadn't eaten much.
"I'm thinking about whether things will take the worst turn," Albert admitted as he began to eat the freshly heated Italian seafood pasta; he was indeed hungry.
"You've done your best," Isabel consoled him. "And they can't rely on you forever."
"You're right!"
After finishing his dinner, Albert checked on the sleeping Alice and then sat down on the sofa in the living room to chat with the McDougal sisters about the future direction and focus of the Defense Association.
"Your ambition knows no bounds!" Katrina exclaimed, having just learned of Albert's desire to build his own wizarding village. She suddenly felt she couldn't quite understand him, and she was curious about where he would get all the galleons needed for such an endeavor.
Isabel, who was watching Albert groom the dozing Tom, suddenly asked, "Are you waiting for news?"
"Yeah, I am a bit concerned," Albert admitted, knowing he couldn't hide it from Isabel.
"Are you going out again tonight?" she asked.
"It depends on the situation."
"Why don't you rest for a while?" Isabel suggested, inviting Albert to lie down on her lap. "Don't be too hard on yourself. It's important to stay alert and rational at all times."
"Master, there's an urgent message."
Just as Albert had lain down, a house-elf knocked on the door and respectfully handed him a two-way mirror.
At that moment, a familiar voice called out from the mirror—it was George.
"It's me. What's wrong?" Albert placed the mirror on the table.
As he spoke, George's anxious face appeared in the mirror.
"Something terrible has happened," George said, his voice shaking. "I just received word that Scrimgeour is most likely dead. Not long after we left, the mysterious figure showed up with a group of Death Eaters. According to Kingsley, Scrimgeour stepped forward to duel the mysterious figure, and that's when Kingsley and the others escaped."
Many guests had ignored Albert's suggestion and stayed to watch the duel between Scrimgeour and Voldemort, so they couldn't escape. This included the Weasley couple, who couldn't bring themselves to abandon the other guests.
"So, they wasted the precious time Scrimgeour bought for them?" Albert fell into a brief silence, suddenly unsure of what to say.
"What about Harry Potter?"
"They left with us and should be back at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters. Fred is on his way there to gather information," George said, his eyes filled with expectation as he looked at Albert, hoping for some good news.
"Well, you should go have a calming draught first. In this situation, it's important to stay calm," Albert reminded him.
"Um...can you help me make a prediction? I want to know about my parents," George asked.
"Sure, but I'll need more information. You should contact Fred first," Albert replied.
Albert knew what George was worried about. If Scrimgeour had indeed killed a group of Death Eaters, Voldemort would likely take his anger out on the captives.
This was something Voldemort was certainly capable of.
Albert waved his wand and summoned a crystal ball, and with Katrina and Isabel watching, he gently placed his hand on it. The mist inside the ball began to churn, and the predicted scene gradually emerged from the white fog.
It was an island in the sea.
Although Albert had never been there, he knew exactly where it was—Azkaban.
The infamous wizard prison.
Perhaps, Voldemort hadn't killed the Weasley couple but instead intended to imprison them in Azkaban, trying to force information about Harry's whereabouts or using them as hostages to lure members of the Order of the Phoenix or Harry Potter himself into a rescue attempt.
"I see Azkaban. Your family is likely still alive. For now, you need to be patient and wait. I'll head there soon," Albert said to the two-way mirror.
However, the mirror remained silent.
"Sorry, dear, but I'm afraid I have to go out again," Albert said, giving Isabel an apologetic look.
"Be careful!" Isabel bit her lip. "Remember to take the Felix Felicis."
"I will. Stay in touch," Albert assured her.
The current situation wasn't actually that bad.
No, it was actually the outcome Albert had most wanted to see.
As long as people were still alive, there was still a chance, and it meant a rescue mission was possible.
The worst fear was that the mysterious figure would take out his anger on those who hadn't fled in time.
When Albert hurried to the Defense Association headquarters, he found George passed out on the sofa, with Cedric and his group waiting for him.
"...so we could only let him sleep for a while."
Cedric could actually understand George's worry and impulsiveness, but he couldn't let George rush to his death.
"You did well. Impulsiveness never solves problems," Albert said to the side of Sana, "Go get a calming draught. I'm going to wake George up now."
"What's the situation?" Cedric asked.
"It's okay. Not too bad," Albert replied.
After Albert lifted the Stunning Spell from George, he soon regained consciousness and quickly sat up on the sofa.
"What's the situation?" George asked anxiously.
"Have a drink first. I'll tell you the prediction after you finish," Albert said, handing George the calming draught that Sana had brought.
After downing the draught, George's agitated emotions stabilized significantly.
"Your family is probably still alive. I saw Azkaban in the crystal ball," Albert said as he pushed George back onto the sofa, "I suspect they plan to use your family as bait to lure you or Harry Potter into a trap."
"If they are indeed taken to Azkaban, intercepting them along the way is the best course of action," Albert continued as he waved his wand and temporarily sealed George's mouth, "Now, you should follow my instructions instead of acting on your own. Don't let your emotions get the better of you and rush to your death."
"Of course, if you really want to go to your death, I won't stop you. As a friend, I respect your decision," Albert added.
Hearing this, everyone was stunned, but they knew Albert wasn't joking.
"Now, tell me, what do you want to do?" Albert removed the spell from George's mouth.
"I'll listen to you. Please help us," George said, knowing this was the best option. At least Albert was willing to help, and that was far more reliable than them acting on their own.
"Good, at least your mind is clear. I need you to take me to the Order of the Phoenix headquarters first so we can meet with them and gather more information," Albert instructed.
"As for you, you need to return here to ensure the safety of the Order's headquarters," Albert continued, noticing that George wanted to say something, "Of course, you can stay in contact with Fred through the two-way mirror. Any questions?"
"No questions," George shook his head.
"Dobby, I may need your help soon," Albert called out to the house-elf.
"Dobby is honored to serve Mr. Anderson," the house-elf appeared and bowed slightly to Albert.
(End of Chapter)
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