At breakfast, a headline in the Daily Prophet captured everyone's attention.
"Department of Mysteries Breached by Unknown Intruder, Tragedy Strikes Ministry of Magic"
Last night, the heart of the Ministry of Magic—the Department of Mysteries—was the target of a shocking assault. An unidentified intruder infiltrated this highly confidential department, resulting in the tragic deaths of several Ministry employees.
According to eyewitnesses, the attack occurred late at night when most staff had already left. The intruder appeared to have intimate knowledge of the Department's layout, heading straight for its most sensitive areas. The Ministry's security measures proved inadequate, and despite the swift intervention of an emergency response team, the tragedy could not be prevented.
The assailant wielded advanced dark magic, a rare and strictly forbidden art in the wizarding world. Its power was potent enough to pierce even the strongest protective charms, causing widespread destruction. The Ministry has confirmed that at least five employees perished in the attack, with over a dozen others injured, several critically.
In an urgent statement this morning, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge expressed profound condolences for the victims and vowed to pursue the intruder's identity and motives relentlessly. "This is a direct attack on the Ministry and a challenge to the entire wizarding world," Fudge declared. "We will spare no effort to ensure the safety and order of our community."
The Department of Mysteries, one of the most enigmatic and powerful divisions of the Ministry, is tasked with handling the most dangerous magical artifacts and creatures. This attack not only claimed lives but also risks exposing sensitive magical secrets, posing a grave threat to wizarding security.
The Ministry has now enacted its highest-level security protocols, subjecting all personnel entering or leaving the premises to rigorous screening. Additionally, the Ministry urges all members of the wizarding community to remain vigilant and report any suspicious activity immediately.
This tragedy has plunged the wizarding world into profound grief. We have lost some of our bravest and brightest witches and wizards, who gave their lives to protect our secrets and safety. The Daily Prophet will continue to monitor developments closely and provide updates to the public.
While the Durmstrang students and others in the Great Hall buzzed with discussion about the Ministry's plight, in the hospital wing, after Madam Pomfrey had finished her rounds, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and the Weasley twins stood at Ron's bedside. Ron, freshly invigorated by a dose of Invigoration Draught and brimming with excitement, was animatedly recounting to Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall what he had witnessed the previous day.
"Mr. Weasley, are you absolutely certain you saw Professor Lockhart cast the Imperius Curse on Harry?" McGonagall asked, her expression stern as she fixed her gaze on Ron.
"I know what I saw, Professor McGonagall," Ron replied with conviction. "I was still under the Imperius Curse myself, but I'm certain of what I saw!"
"Albus…" McGonagall turned to Dumbledore, and upon his nod of approval, she drew her wand and strode out of the ward.
The prolonged effects of the Imperius Curse had clearly taken a toll on Ron's mental state, one that a single Invigoration Draught could not fully remedy. Shortly after McGonagall's departure, Ron drifted into a deep sleep.
"I think we should let Mr. Weasley rest undisturbed until he's fully recovered," Dumbledore said, ushering the group out under Madam Pomfrey's watchful glare. No sooner had they left the ward than a cat Patronus materialized before them, McGonagall's voice issuing from it in a rapid, urgent tone.
"Albus, I was too late. The house-elf cleaning the rooms said Gilderoy Lockhart didn't return to his quarters last night. Also, I ran into Cornelius Fudge in the corridor outside the Great Hall. He's brought two dozen Aurors, and from their conversation, it seems they're here to arrest Harry!"
"Arrest me?" Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Has the Ministry got nothing better to do? Why would they come after me?"
McGonagall's Patronus dissipated after delivering the message, and Dumbledore turned to Harry at once. "Harry, I think it best you go into hiding for now. I know Fudge well—if he's set on arresting you, for whatever reason, he won't relent until you're in custody."
"No need for all that trouble, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. With a shimmer, his form shifted, and in his place stood a black-haired, dark-eyed Eastern youth.
At that moment, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the staircase below. Seconds later, a breathless Cornelius Fudge appeared, flanked by over twenty adult wizards climbing the stairs.
"Ha! I knew Minerva McGonagall's hasty exit meant she was up to no good!" Fudge exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement upon spotting Dumbledore and the others. He pointed at three Aurors. "You, you, and you—go find Harry Potter! They haven't left the hospital wing since arriving; he's definitely still up there!"
"Cornelius, I have no objection to you enforcing Ministry regulations," Dumbledore said, stepping forward with a calm, amiable tone, "but at least tell me what's happened."
Face-to-face with Dumbledore, Fudge instinctively shrank back but quickly regained his composure. Why should I fear this old man? I'm the victim here!
"Dumbledore, I take it you haven't read today's Daily Prophet?" Fudge said, crossing his arms with a smug air of triumph. "Harry Potter, your prized student, broke into the Department of Mysteries last night and nearly killed everyone he encountered! If a few hadn't been lucky enough to be struck in the stomach or shoulder, I might still be fooled by that boy's innocent facade!"
"But Harry was Portkeyed to Voldemort last night!" Hermione interjected. "He couldn't possibly have had time to break into the Department of Mysteries!"
Fudge barely glanced at her. "Miss Granger, don't think your Triwizard Tournament victory gives you the right to twist the truth. Plenty of people saw Harry Potter last night. And what's this about You-Know-Who? He's been dead for thirteen years!"
"Voldemort is very much alive, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly, meeting Fudge's gaze. "As for the person who attacked the Ministry, I don't know who they were, but it certainly wasn't Harry. At the time, he was dueling Voldemort."
Fudge recoiled as if struck, blinking rapidly and staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, as though unable to process what he'd heard.
"You-Know-Who… returned?" he stammered. "Nonsense! Don't joke with me, Dumbledore…"
"It's no joke," Dumbledore replied. "As I've tried to tell you, Voldemort didn't truly die thirteen years ago. That night, he lost only his physical form. His soul lingered in some corner of the world, awaiting a chance to return. Rebuilding a body isn't difficult—I know of at least three methods with minimal side effects. Though Harry defeated Voldemort last night, he will undoubtedly return again soon."
"Listen to me, Dumbledore," Fudge said, a strange smile flickering across his face. "You can't possibly believe all this. You-Know-Who, back? Don't be ridiculous… Surely you're not taking the word of a fourteen-year-old boy who claims to have defeated Voldemort and his Death Eaters single-handedly?"
"And who was it that insisted a fourteen-year-old boy broke into the Ministry and killed scores of its staff?" Hermione huffed indignantly.
Fudge ignored her, tilting his head defiantly at Dumbledore. "Hand over Harry Potter! I need to give the public an explanation for what happened at the Ministry. I must catch the culprit!"
"You fool!" McGonagall's voice rang out from the staircase. Harry peered past Fudge and his Aurors to see her standing at the top, breathless. Behind her floated an unconscious Gilderoy Lockhart.
Compared to the Lockhart Harry remembered, this man was a mess—sporting a long, unkempt beard, disheveled clothes, and hair that looked as though someone had kicked him out of a barber shop mid-cut, half long and half short.
"Minerva, what's this about?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes narrowing with curiosity as he studied the unconscious Lockhart.
"I went to find evidence against Lockhart," McGonagall explained. "In his office, I found a locked trunk. I thought it might contain incriminating items, but when I opened it…" She waved her wand, lowering the unconscious Lockhart before Dumbledore. "…I found him. It seems our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was replaced at some point."
"Minerva, fetch Poppy and Severus," Dumbledore instructed. "We have an unconscious patient who needs attention."
"Understood. I'll go now!" McGonagall nodded and vanished from sight.
Fudge, who had been trying to interject several times, found himself unable to muster the courage in Dumbledore's presence. Now, seeing Dumbledore guide the floating Lockhart toward the hospital wing, he finally spoke up.
"What is this? Some sort of theatrical performance?" Fudge snapped, glaring at Dumbledore. "Stop wasting my time! Tell me where Harry Potter is!"
Ignoring him, Dumbledore settled Lockhart onto a bed beside Ron's.
Minutes later, Madam Pomfrey and Severus Snape hurried into the ward and began examining Lockhart.
Soon, the results were in.
"Prolonged exposure to Draught of Living Death," Snape said, his dark eyes flickering briefly to the unfamiliar Eastern student standing close to Hermione. "Fully countering its effects is complicated, but inducing brief periods of wakefulness is… simple."
He produced a small vial of golden potion from his robes and poured about ten milliliters into Lockhart's mouth. "A potion of my own creation. It temporarily neutralizes the effects of the Draught."
Moments after the golden liquid touched Lockhart's lips, he bolted upright.
"Let me go! I'm just a fraud who steals other people's stories! There's no point in capturing me—"
His shouts cut off as he registered his surroundings.
"D-Dumbledore… Minister Fudge…" Lockhart stammered. "What brings you both here?"
"Professor Lockhart," Dumbledore said, his piercing blue eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles into Lockhart's soul, "do you recall who attacked you?"
At Dumbledore's prompting, Lockhart seemed to find his anchor. He launched into a tearful account of his ordeal, describing how, since the summer, he'd been imprisoned in a dark, sunless dungeon by none other than Barty Crouch Jr.
The name sent a ripple of shock through Fudge and the Aurors behind him.
"Impossible! Utterly impossible!" Fudge cried, shaking his head. "Barty Crouch Jr. died in Azkaban! He can't still be alive!"
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