"Then investigate," Scrimgeour said, anger tightening every word. "Search the entire British Isles if you have to, but find that Dark wizard."
He looked over the ruined street, his face hard with humiliation. The attack had not only damaged Diagon Alley and Gringotts; it had slapped the Ministry of Magic in the face in front of the entire wizarding world.
"Send out every available Ministry employee," Scrimgeour continued. "I want that damned Dark wizard found."
"Oh, Rufus, calm down," Fudge said quickly, dabbing sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "Capturing that Dark wizard is important, of course, but rebuilding Diagon Alley is also a major task for the Ministry. We can't send every employee away to hunt one person."
He turned toward Dumbledore, clearly hoping for support. "Albus, the new school year at Hogwarts is about to begin. Now that this has happened, many young witches and wizards still haven't bought their school supplies, and that problem needs to be handled as well."
Fudge forced a solemn expression onto his round face. "After all, children are the future of the wizarding world."
"Children are certainly important," Dumbledore said. "There is still a month before the start of term, and Hogwarts will handle the school supply issue as best it can."
His gaze moved over the smoking ruins of Diagon Alley, then settled on Fudge again. "But the most urgent matter remains the capture of that Dark wizard. At the same time, the Ministry should increase security, strengthen patrols in important areas, and prepare for the possibility that he may appear again."
Dumbledore's voice grew heavier. "No one knows what a wizard like that might do next."
It was an eventful year in the worst possible way. Voldemort was still lurking somewhere, looking for a chance to return, Harry Potter was about to enter Hogwarts, and now a terrifying Dark wizard had appeared in Britain without warning. Each problem alone would have been troubling; together, they formed a storm Dumbledore could not ignore.
"Yes, yes, Albus, you're absolutely right," Fudge said. He wiped his forehead again, though the handkerchief was already damp. "We must guard against that terrible Dark wizard. But rebuilding Diagon Alley is urgent as well, or Britain's Ministry of Magic will be ridiculed by every foreign wizarding government."
"Very well, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "You are the Minister for Magic now. Since matters here are under control, I should return to Hogwarts."
He did not have time to keep arguing with Fudge in the street. A new threat had entered the wizarding world, and Dumbledore needed to prepare before the next disaster arrived.
A phoenix cry rang through the air. Fawkes swept down in a flash of scarlet and gold, and a moment later, Dumbledore vanished with him in a burst of flame.
Soon after, Fudge and several Ministry officials left as well. Kingsley, Scrimgeour, and the remaining Aurors stayed behind to secure Diagon Alley, question witnesses, and stare grimly at the ruins left by the worst attack the street had seen in years.
"Oh, Merlin's beard," one witch whispered when some civilians finally dared to return. She stood at the edge of the ruined street, staring at the broken storefronts and blackened cobblestones. "Diagon Alley has been destroyed."
"Look at all these shops," another wizard said, his voice full of disbelief. "Where are we supposed to buy the supplies Hogwarts requires?"
"And Gringotts is ruined," someone else muttered. "How are we supposed to withdraw money now?"
The returned wizards could hardly believe what they were seeing. Diagon Alley had always been busy, colorful, and alive, but now half of it looked like the aftermath of a war.
Even during Voldemort's rise, the street had not suffered damage on this scale. Attacks had happened, people had disappeared, and fear had spread through every household, but Diagon Alley itself had never been torn apart so openly in broad daylight.
At 16 Tibb Avenue in London, the Granger home was quiet, tidy, and painfully ordinary compared with the chaos they had just escaped. It was a detached house in a comfortable neighborhood, the sort of place owned by careful, hardworking people with steady careers and practical habits. Hermione's parents were dentists, firmly middle class, and until recently, magic had belonged only in storybooks.
"I will never allow my daughter to go into that dangerous wizarding world," Mr. Granger said firmly. His face was still pale, but his voice carried the stubborn resolve of a frightened father. "Professor McGonagall, you saw what happened. Your world is far too dangerous."
Ever since Professor McGonagall had brought them back from Diagon Alley by Apparition, Mr. Granger had refused to bend. The whole journey into magic had begun as something astonishing and strange, but after explosions, Dark wizards, ruined streets, and cursed fire, his wonder had turned into dread.
"Mr. Granger, I understand your concern," Professor McGonagall said helplessly. "But Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world. I can assure you that Miss Granger will be protected there."
She had worked hard to persuade the Grangers to accept Hermione's place at Hogwarts. Before Diagon Alley collapsed into disaster, they had been cautious but willing, and Hermione had been glowing with excitement. Now all of that effort had nearly been burned away with the shops.
"Even the bank of your wizarding world was robbed," Mr. Granger said. "If a bank can be attacked, why should I believe a school is safe?"
He folded his arms, jaw tight. "I would rather Hermione live as an ordinary girl than send her somewhere that puts her life in danger."
The memory of Diagon Alley was too vivid for him to dismiss. He could still see the dragon, the black storm, the shattered buildings, and the terrifying fire that had filled the sky. Wizards had power beyond anything he had imagined, and that power was exactly why he could not bear the thought of his daughter living among them alone.
"Mr. Granger," Professor McGonagall said after a moment, her voice turning sterner, "Miss Granger is a witch. She has magic inside her, and if she is not taught to control it, that magic may eventually become unstable."
Mr. Granger's expression changed slightly, but he did not interrupt. Hermione stood nearby, tense and silent, her hands clenched in front of her.
"In the most severe cases," Professor McGonagall continued, "repressed and uncontrolled magic can become an Obscurus. You saw something like that in Diagon Alley today—the black, smoke-like destructive force that tore through the street."
She did not enjoy frightening a parent. But if fear was the only way to make him understand the danger of leaving Hermione untrained, then she had no choice.
"If such power ran out of control," Professor McGonagall said, "the consequences could be catastrophic. It could destroy not just a house, but far more."
"Professor McGonagall," Mr. Granger said, stunned, "are you telling me my daughter could cause something that destructive?"
"Yes," Professor McGonagall said. "I am not lying to you. One of the reasons young witches and wizards must attend school is to learn control, discipline, and safe use of magic."
Her expression softened a little. "No matter what, Miss Granger must receive magical education."
Mr. Granger looked shaken. He turned slowly toward his daughter, and for the first time since returning home, his certainty faltered.
"Hermione," he asked quietly, "what do you want?"
"I want to go to Hogwarts," Hermione said without hesitation.
Her answer came so quickly that it seemed she had been holding it in the entire time. After seeing real magic, after learning that the strange things that happened around her had a name, a reason, and a future, she could not bear the thought of turning away and pretending to be ordinary.
Mr. Granger closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he looked tired, frightened, and deeply reluctant, but the anger had gone out of his face.
"All right," he said with a sigh. "Whatever you choose, your mother and I will always stand behind you."
"Thank you, Mum. Thank you, Dad," Hermione said.
She rushed forward and hugged both of her parents tightly. Her mother held her at once, and after a moment, Mr. Granger wrapped his arms around them as well.
Professor McGonagall finally let herself breathe in relief. At least this matter had been settled, even if the day had made it far more difficult than it should have been.
Harry stood to the side, watching Hermione cling to her parents. Envy rose in his chest before he could stop it, sharp and uncomfortable.
He thought of the Dursleys, of Aunt Petunia's thin mouth, Uncle Vernon's booming temper, and Dudley's greedy hands. Hermione's parents were frightened, but they were frightened because they loved her. Harry lowered his eyes and forced back the sting of tears before anyone could see.
"Mr. Granger, Miss Granger, Diagon Alley is not safe to visit again yet," Professor McGonagall said after a moment. "Please remain at home for now. When it is possible to continue purchasing school supplies, I will inform you."
She turned toward Harry, her expression becoming gentle but practical. "Now, we should take our leave. Harry, I'll bring you back to your aunt's house first."
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