No One is a Madman, or Perhaps, Everyone is a Madman

Hogwarts.

"Lupin" pulled the curtain back just a sliver, catching sight of the figures entering through the castle gates. Their voices were so loud that he didn't need a spell to enhance his hearing to catch their shouting. Beside Professors McGonagall and Snape, they were bellowing with all their might, waving their arms and gesturing wildly.

The muscles in their faces were twisted, out of control with agitation!

"I'm telling you, he's here! The one whose name cannot be spoken, he has returned! Dewey is nothing but a dog for that man, do you understand? He has returned, unstoppable, bringing death once again.

We need protection, we need to be protected!

We need Dumbledore!

I want to see Dumbledore, do you understand? Give us Dumbledore!"

The injured Hit Wizards screamed at the top of their lungs.

Professor McGonagall said nothing, lifting the front of her robes as she walked quickly.

"Lupin" used a spell to sharpen his vision, clearly seeing the gloomy expression on Snape's face, and couldn't help but reveal a smile.

Dewey, always able to come up with new tricks for him. This kid always had a head full of strange ideas; he just didn't know if his method would work this time.

He still remembered Dewey's theory about creating an enemy—only when an enemy that everyone feared appeared could the pressure of being hunted be reduced.

Sirius, disguised as Lupin, was noncommittal about this. He hadn't come here to play the role of Lupin for the long term; he was here to cover Dewey's tracks. Compared to hiding here, he would much rather see Harry.

Even if it was just in the guise of Lupin.

His gaze shifted, searching for Harry's figure once more, his greed for one more glimpse of Harry driving him.

Below the castle, both professors looked grim.

They both knew who these people were talking about.

Voldemort.

Both Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape could say the name calmly.

As the Hit Wizards shouted and Madam Pomfrey waved her wand to keep two people floating steadily behind the crowd, the two professors remained silent in unison.

Hearing the cries of these men, their hearts felt heavy.

When they had arrived at the scene, they had seen the congealed blood on the ground and the words written in blood behind them.

It was all chilling.

Not because of the cunning and cruelty of the villain Dewey Jones, but because of the words carved behind it.

"Voldemort returns."

Was that devil truly about to return?

Even Snape, the one among them who most wanted Voldemort dead, had never thought that Voldemort might actually be dead. He had known since the year before last that Voldemort hadn't been thoroughly destroyed at all.

His comeback was merely a matter of time.

This was the meaning behind his protection of Harry.

The Boy Who Lived.

The boy in the prophecy who could defeat the Dark Lord.

But now, had the Dark Lord already returned? Why so soon?

Snape questioned this. If the Dark Lord had returned, the Dark Mark on his arm should be burning; upon his return, he should have summoned his Death Eaters to pay homage.

Even if the Dark Lord didn't summon them, as the Dark Lord grew stronger, the marks on their arms would gradually burn regardless.

Yet the Dark Mark on his arm was steady and calm at this moment, showing no reaction.

Was Dewey posturing, or did the Dark Lord have some magic that blocked their connection?

Snape couldn't be sure. He wanted to find Dumbledore, but clearly, that was unlikely for now.

Dumbledore did not see outsiders.

Snape wasn't even sure if Dumbledore was currently at Hogwarts. He listened to the roaring of the people behind him, from demanding to see Dumbledore to demanding the use of the Hogwarts Floo Network. Throughout it all, Professor McGonagall didn't say a word, while Professor Snape felt so irritated he wanted to use a spell to make them shut up.

The trio, having just finished their class, stood in the crowd, curiously watching the scene.

They looked like a group of ducks that had heard a noise and were peering over in curiosity.

Their heads turned in unison.

Even Hermione, who was busy and dizzy with work, heard their roaring, and she was in no rush to get to her next engagement.

Gossip was human nature.

Faintly, the wind carried their shouts.

"You-Know-Who must be returning, we want to see Dumbledore, we want to see Dumbledore..."

"...Terror... horrible... need reinforcements..."

"...Someone needs to go... the Dementors outside the school..."

The trio exchanged glances, and Harry's heart sank.

What had he just heard?

You-Know-Who?

The students around him also began to stir in a commotion.

Although he still did not know that Sirius was his nominal father's killer, he subconsciously felt that the two fugitives were up to no good. Watching the bedraggled state of the Ministry of Magic personnel from afar, Harry felt certain he must have heard "You-Know-Who."

He turned his head to ask Ron something, but before he could even finish the motion, he heard the sound of Ron's teeth chattering. Turning to face him, Harry saw that Ron's complexion was ghastly.

"What's wrong, Ron?"

He asked, and Hermione also noticed that something was amiss with Ron. She grabbed his hand, trying to soothe him, but Ron Weasley said nothing.

Behind him, the Weasley Twins were also standing at the castle entrance, unusually quiet.

"He's here."

Whether it was George or Fred—it was impossible to tell them apart—they stared at the disheveled Ministry agents. Exchanging a glance, the twins recognized the signature style of the assault from the state of their disarray.

Dewey Jones.

Hatred flared in their eyes. They could never forget the day their family had set out for a happy outing, only to be ambushed.

Had they not been in London at the time, they likely wouldn't have survived.

"Yes, we must have our revenge."

One of the twins said.

Noticing the students' gazes, Professor McGonagall stopped in her tracks and turned around.

"Enough!"

She snapped at the Ministry agents, "Those of you who are more seriously injured, follow our school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, to be treated.

Who will come with me to the Floo Network to notify the Ministry of Magic?

You all look full of energy, hardly like you're on the verge of death, so notifying the Ministry shouldn't be a problem."

The remaining Hit Wizards, cowed by Professor McGonagall's imposing presence and glancing at the menacing Snape nearby, shivered like quails that had lost their nerve.

It wasn't because of McGonagall; it was because of their earlier deduction.

The Dark Lord was about to descend.

Seeing them fall silent, Professor McGonagall led them into the castle.

Madam Pomfrey, for her part, felt no pressure. None of the strikes Dewey had dealt to the Hit Wizards were fatal; to her, these injuries were a simple matter to treat.

Lying in the infirmary, Malfoy watched in surprise as the previously empty ward became crowded. These people occupying Hogwarts' medical resources weren't students—they looked like Ministry of Magic agents.

Malfoy even recognized one of them.

What was happening outside?

Draco Malfoy was consumed by curiosity.

He wanted to get up and ask.

Elsewhere, a lightly injured Hit Wizard went to contact the Ministry. This agent could not see Fudge directly; he could only go to his superior's superior.

Bypassing the chain of command was a special right granted to Hit Wizards in times of emergency.

Of course, whether his superior would hold a grudge later was a matter of opinion, but to hell with it, the agent thought. Let them all die; who has the mind to think about other things at a time like this?

A bone-deep terror made him incapable of thinking about the future.

He went straight to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Susan Bones. She was a stern woman, and she saw the head appear in the fireplace within the Ministry.

"Is that you, Turner?"

Madam Bones looked at the face in the fireplace and asked with a furrowed brow, "What happened?"

Seeing Madam Bones, Turner struggled to calm himself down.

"He has returned. You know who—he has returned, Madam Bones!

Dewey is his lackey. Dewey attacked our Hit Wizard camp, and we all nearly died.

He is carrying out the will of You-Know-Who and has begun to issue us a warning!"

Upon hearing this, Madam Bones stood up with a start. Her voice trembled, a tremor she herself did not even notice.

The coffee cup in her hand fell to the floor; fortunately, the carpet cushioned the impact, and the cup did not shatter.

She couldn't care about the coffee cup now.

She asked Turner again, solemnly, "Do you know what you are saying, Turner? Some things are not to be joked about!"

"Yes, I know, I know. I can take responsibility for my words. We need reinforcements, we need reinforcements."

Madam Bones's throat moved up and down as she swallowed. She signaled for Turner to wait. A moment later, a greasy-looking man appeared in her office.

Fudge stood in Madam Bones's office.

"What is it you want me to hear, Amelia?"

Fudge asked. He still maintained great respect for this subordinate of his; the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was a behemoth, and for a Minister like Fudge, who sought stability above all else and preferred to avoid trouble, he was willing to get along peacefully and gently with such a subordinate, provided she didn't cause him any issues during his term.

Little did he know that the tacit understanding between them was about to shatter.

Even those outside the door could hear Fudge's roar!

"This is impossible! Lies, all lies! You are all lying!"

Inside the office, it was the first time Madam Amelia had seen Fudge so volatile. He seemed to have lost all control, pointing a finger directly at Amelia's nose and shouting at her.

"Keep your subordinates in check, Amelia. I know they are dissatisfied with the Ministry of Magic—no breaks, no bonuses—but that is no reason for them to use lies to intimidate me!

I am no fool. Do I look like the kind of person who believes just anything?

No, I am not!

Listen, tell your subordinates to keep their mouths shut. If they continue to lie like this, I wouldn't mind throwing them into Azkaban, do you understand?

I am not discussing this with you, Bones! I am notifying you: keep your subordinates in check. This is an order!

If you have the ability to manage them, then do so. If you don't, then I will replace you with a more capable Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!

You are not indispensable, Madam!"

He roared, losing all composure. On the other side of the fireplace, the Hit Wizard Turner felt his heart turn cold upon hearing the Minister's words. He opened his mouth to speak, but never expected Fudge to vent his fury upon him.

"Shut up, you wretched and lowly liar! Get out of here; you are not fit to appear in the Ministry of Magic!"

He berated him loudly, his face flushed with rage. His uncontrolled, ugly language even startled Professor McGonagall over at Hogwarts. On this end, the Floo Network was cut off by Fudge; in his fury, he no longer cared about his decorum.

He had no intention of sending reinforcements at all.

"Let those damned liars just die there!"

He stormed out, refusing to believe a word the Hit Wizards had said. He felt as though his heart condition was beginning to flare up.

He didn't want to see anyone; he just wanted to return to his office and have a moment of peace.

Unfortunately, even such a wish was a luxury for him.

He stormed out of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and ran straight into the Head of the Auror Office, Scrimgeour!