The aftermath of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament was oddly quiet compared to the first. There were no heated debates over the performances, no endless chatter about who had been the most impressive. Instead, the halls of Hogwarts were abuzz with a far more serious and terrifying matter—the escape of the prisoners of Azkaban.
For most students, the Triwizard Tournament was a thrilling distraction, but now, reality had struck hard. Letters from concerned parents flooded the school by the dozens, urging their children to be cautious and stay vigilant. These were not ordinary criminals that had broken free; these were some of the most fanatical Death Eaters, sentenced to life for their crimes in service of the Dark Lord. The mere thought of them roaming freely was enough to fill the castle with an undercurrent of fear.
Even the visiting schools were affected by the news. The Beauxbatons students whispered among themselves in hushed tones, their elegant composure cracking with unease. But the most notable reaction came from Headmaster Karkaroff of Durmstrang. He had always seemed tense, but now he was downright jittery. His pale face had lost what little color remained, and his sharp eyes darted around as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. As the days passed, his nervous energy only grew, leading many to believe that he was a man haunted by his past, now afraid of his own shadow.
It wasn't until Dumbledore addressed the school in the Great Hall that some semblance of calm was restored. He stood before the assembled students and, in his usual composed manner, assured them that Hogwarts was the safest place in the world. No force, no matter how great, could breach its protections. His reputation as the greatest white wizard carried weight, and his words soothed many frayed nerves. If Dumbledore said they were safe, then surely it must be true.
Yet, among the faculty, the tension remained. Many of them had been present when Dante revealed Voldemort's return. Now, the breakout from Azkaban served as undeniable proof that his words were true. It was no longer a question of if the Dark Lord would make his move—it was only a matter of when. The weight of that realization bore heavily on them, especially as they looked upon their students, who remained blissfully unaware of the full scope of what was coming.
In Gryffindor Tower, three students in particular could not shake their unease. Harry Potter sat by the fireplace, his mind replaying the vision he had seen in his dreams. He had witnessed the attack on Azkaban, seen Voldemort orchestrate the prison break. There was no doubt in his mind—the Dark Lord was back. Hermione, ever the voice of reason, insisted that they tell Dumbledore immediately. Harry and Ron exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. It was too important to keep to themselves.
Ron, in an attempt to inject some optimism, sighed and said, "At least we have professor Dumbledore. If there's anyone who can stop You-Know-Who, it's him."
Harry nodded but then added, "We also have Dante."
Ron's expression twisted slightly at the mention of the young professor, but he didn't argue.
Harry continued, "Dante is probably one of the strongest wizards in the world right now. If he had to, I bet he could put up a good fight against Voldemort."
Ron huffed but conceded with a nod. "Yeah, maybe."
Hermione, deep in thought, said, "I don't think it's just that. Dante told us before…I believe he could actually win."
Silence settled over the trio as they absorbed her words. It was one thing to consider Dante as a powerful wizard, but another entirely to believe he could defeat the Dark Lord himself. But Dante was the most capable wizard they have ever met and always spoke truth without care to other opinions or reactions… perhaps he could really defeat Voldemort.
___________
Dante entered his office, shutting the door behind him, only to notice a small beetle perched on his window. His silver eyes narrowed as a flicker of recognition crossed his face. Without uttering a word, he lifted his hand, and with a mere flick of his fingers, an unseen force yanked the beetle from its resting place and suspended it midair. A faint shimmer of magic coursed through the room, and in the next instant, the beetle twisted and expanded, rapidly morphing into a very human and very terrified Rita Skeeter.
She barely had time to register what had happened before the weight of her situation came crashing down on her. Her wide eyes darted around in horror before landing in front of Dante. "P-Professor Malfoy," she stammered, "I—please, don't tell anyone about this! I—I can write whatever you want, anything! Just name it."
A slow, wicked smile crept onto Dante's face. Without a word, he flicked his wand once more, and in the blink of an eye, Rita was once again a beetle, trapped within the confines of a newly transfigured glass cage. The small creature frantically scuttled against the transparent walls, pressing herself against them as if in a silent plea. Dante, entirely uninterested, merely took a seat at his desk and resumed grading assignments.
Days passed. Trapped in the small enclosure, Rita lived in a constant state of regret and fear. Dante fed her scraps when he remembered, though the humiliation of her captivity weighed heavier than any hunger she felt. Why had she chosen to spy on this evil wizard? Out of all the people she could have targeted, why him?
One morning, the door to Dante's office swung open, and in walked Dumbledore and McGonagall. Dumbledore's expression was calm as always, though his eyes carried a glint of curiosity. McGonagall, on the other hand, had her usual stern look of business.
"We've come to discuss the final task of the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore began with a warm tone. "We have decided on an enchanted maze for the third task and were hoping you would assist in its construction."
Dante leaned back in his chair, considering the request. "The maze?" He mused. "I don't mind. It's light work."
Dumbledore nodded, satisfied with the response. However, his eyes soon wandered over to the glass cage sitting atop Dante's desk. His gaze lingered, his frown deepening slightly as he studied the insect within. The beetle, sensing the attention, frantically pushed against the glass, standing on its back legs in a futile attempt to signal for help. The movement struck Dumbledore as odd, and an unsettling feeling began creeping into his mind.
"What's wrong with that beetle?" Dumbledore finally asked.
Dante, without even looking up from his work, replied nonchalantly, "That's Rita Skeeter. She's an Animagus."
A heavy silence filled the office. McGonagall's sharp intake of breath was the first reaction, followed by her incredulous voice. "She…She must not have registered herself! That's an illegal Animagus! She should be reported to the Ministry at once. That's a one-way ticket to Azkaban!"
Inside the cage, the beetle trembled violently, as if understanding every word being said.
Dante merely shrugged. "Sending her there serves no real purpose. Here, she is part of an educational experiment."
McGonagall's brows furrowed in confusion. "What experiment?"
Dumbledore's frown deepened. "Dante, how long has she been here?"
"A few days."
McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged glances before Dumbledore pressed further. "And how long do you plan to keep her?"
Dante set down his quill and looked up at the two professors. "A year."
McGonagall gasped, visibly horrified. "A year?! Why?!"
Dante leaned forward slightly, his tone calm and detached. "The lifespan of a beetle is roughly three to six months. However, an Animagus can live far longer than the animal life span when transformed. I'm curious about the effects prolonged time in animal form might have on human aging. Will the accelerated lifespan of an insect force her body to age accordingly? Or will her human form remain unchanged? It's an interesting test case to measure."
A deathly silence filled the room as McGonagall turned ghostly pale. Even Dumbledore's composed expression flickered with something akin to horror.
Inside the glass cage, the beetle was trembling uncontrollably.
"This is inhumane," Dumbledore finally spoke, his voice heavy with disapproval. "No person deserves to be treated this way."
Dante tilted his head. "Azkaban is worse," he countered. "A life sentence of slow, meaningless suffering. At least here, she serves a purpose."
Dumbledore's lips pressed into a thin line. "Regardless, she must be released."
"I will release her…" Dante conceded, "but not yet. I still need more time for observation. Consider it her punishment for years of false journalism and ruining people's lives with fabricated stories."
McGonagall looked livid. "This isn't about punishment! This is torture!"
Dante sighed, looking unimpressed. "I'm not debating morality. I only care about results. This discussion is pointless…she stays."
McGonagall clenched her fists, looking to Dumbledore for support. "Albus, you can't seriously allow this!"
Dumbledore stared at Dante for a long moment before sighing. "I will check on you again at the end of the year to ensure she is released."
McGonagall gaped at him in disbelief. "Albus!"
He shook his head. "Rita brought this upon herself. I will not fight further for her."
With that, Dumbledore turned, exiting the office. McGonagall, still furious, followed after him, shooting Dante one last disapproving glare before leaving.
The office fell into silence once again.
Inside the cage, the beetle that was once Rita Skeeter trembled in horror, consumed by regret.
Dante, however, merely smirked, his fingers idly tapping against his desk. Unbeknownst to them all, his grudge against her had lingered since the last life.
And now, finally, justice had been served.