With Dumbledore's wand pressed against his throat, the man stepped back, allowing Dumbledore to step inside the house, closing the doors of the house behind him shut.
Stepping inside, Dumbledore took in his surroundings. He was standing in the corridor which was joining the main hall of the house.
A couple of magical lanterns were fixed on either side of the adjacent walls, dimly illuminating the room. Because of the cold and the chilly wind outside, every window had been shut down, and thus no light escaped the house. This had made it appear completely dark from outside.
On one side, there was a fireplace with a warm fire burning, which was heating the hall. After spending his last few minutes walking in the chilly air, Dumbledore was feeling quite comfortable in the house.
A set of sofas was arranged in the centre of the hall, along with other furniture, most prominently a dining table on the far side of the room.
Dumbledore then examined the man whose throat he was holding at the wand point of his Elder wand. The man was short heighted. He was an inch or two shorter than Dumbledore himself. His pale face had turned even paler from fear, because of the wand digging into his skin and because of the man whose hand was holding the other end of the wand.
And the man was dressed exactly as Dumbledore had expected. The attire of a Death Eater. Apart from their traditional face mask, he was wearing the complete Death Eater robe.
This had been a very unexpected development.
Dumbledore would not claim that he had a source or spy within the organisation of Death Eaters. And even if he did, it would not have helped in this situation. The Death Eaters never revealed their plans or targets to anyone except those directly involved.
But since Dumbledore never truly had plans to get involved with the Death Eaters, at least not this soon, he had never attempted to cultivate any real source within their ranks. He had not tried to infiltrate their ranks. That did not mean he lacked sources of information altogether.
He had a few people, former students he had taught at Hogwarts, who belonged to pure blood families and had been quite interested in Dumbledore's ideology. Occasionally, one of them would pass along information they overheard in their households.
Even before this, he had received such inputs, but he had not cared enough to act on them. Things had been happening as per his plans after all.
But this time, it was different. Albus Dumbledore had a point to make. A justice to serve.
There were a couple of Death Eaters who,motivated by some speech Voldemort had given after the attack on Hogsmeade, had crafted a plan. A plan to impress him and get into the good books of their liege.
And they had chosen this magical settlement for that purpose. As stated, it was isolated, sparsely populated, and far away from the major population centres of Wizarding Britain. Hardly any ministry worker or aurors paid attention to such a place.
This settlement was going to celebrate a local festival tomorrow, something related to their founding day. For this occasion, the entire community would gather in the central square from tomorrow morning, and a full day of festivities would follow.
These two Death Eaters intended to target that gathering. Half a dozen destructive spells like Bombarda Maxima, and they could cause casualties in the dozens. The reign of terror and destruction would spread further and horrify people. After the attack on Hogsmeade, it was going to terrify the population further.
It was a good plan but one of the Death Eaters made a mistake. Drunk the previous night, he bragged about what he was planning to do to one of his close friends. And through a chain of whispers, the information eventually reached Dumbledore. And hence Dumbledore was here.
Finding them had been an easy task. But after a few questions here and there, he had managed to locate the house they had taken shelter in.
"Ah!" Dumbledore smiled. "Now that I am inside the house, I feel much more comfortable. It is warm here. Quite nice."
"Would you mind answering a few questions?" he asked.
"Of course you would not," he answered himself lightly, not giving the death eater any chance to say otherwise. "But before that…"
Dumbledore bent slightly and pulled the Death Eater's wand from the holster tied beneath the man's sleeve.
"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore said, gesturing toward one of the wooden dining chairs.
The man was about to move when someone entered the hall from one of the inner rooms. It was the second Death Eater.
Since his partner had not returned after answering the door, he had come to check for himself.
"Trebor," he called as he stepped into the hall. "Who is it?"
He had barely finished speaking when his eyes landed on a smiling Dumbledore. Instinctively, he whipped his hand, his wand appearing instantly. He had barely formed the thought to cast a spell when there was a flash of light and the next moment, his wand was already in Dumbledore's hand.
He had not even seen the spell. One moment he was armed, the next, a force like a hammer had ripped the wand from his fingers despite his full grip.
"I was saying…" Dumbledore began, turning in his direction.
But the second Death Eater did not wait to listen. His eyes narrowed, and he dashed toward one of the glass windows, desperate to escape. But in front of Dumbledore it was false hope.
Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.
"Pity," he muttered as he waved his wand.
A spell struck one of the wooden chairs. In an instant, it transformed into a coiled chain and shot forward.
The Death Eater had not even reached the window when the chain pierced through his back and emerged from his chest. Blood spurted from the wound as he struggled, trying to speak, probably trying to curse Dumbledore, before he collapsed onto the floor.
"Pity," Dumbledore said, turning towards Trebor. "It is a pity that your friend did not listen to my words."
"Now, hopefully you will not repeat the same mistake," he added. "Please, take your seat."
Trebor, without any resistance, moved and sat on one of the dining chairs. Their count had reduced to five from six, one was now embedded in the chest of his friend.
"I have heard," Dumbledore said, approaching Trebor, "that Voldemort," the man flinched at the name, but Dumbledore continued unbothered, "has given some motivating speech after the attack on Hogsmeade."
"Would you please let me see it," he added, pressing his wand against Trebor's forehead. It took only a moment before Trebor's eyelids snapped shut and he lost consciousness.
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