HP: Man of Archives

The game began about half an hour later. The Ministerial Box gradually filled with people, either those of considerable wealth or individuals who had received a personal invitation from one of the Ministers of Magic.

"Is everyone ready?" Ludo Bagman finally asked as he returned, having stepped out earlier to attend to some important matters. "Minister Fudge, shall we begin?"

"At your command, Ludo," replied Cornelius, clearly relishing the display of authority.

Ludo nodded and activated an artifact. While he could have simply amplified his voice, this method also allowed for recording—a feature many wizards unable to attend the match would pay a few Galleons to experience later.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he began, his voice booming across the entire field, filling every box. "Welcome! Welcome to the final of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators, already brimming with anticipation, erupted into cheers, whistles, and applause. Thousands of flags waved in the air, creating a cacophony of national anthems. At that moment, the last advertisement on the large black scoreboard vanished, replaced by the score: Bulgaria – 0, Ireland – 0.

"And now, without further ado, allow me, Ludo Bagman, your commentator, to present the team mascots!"

The cheers reached deafening levels.

"Team Bulgaria's mascots, please welcome them!"

The Bulgarian fan section roared in response, their red flags fluttering vigorously, radiating approval and a myriad of positive emotions.

"I wonder what they've brought this time," Arthur Weasley mused, watching the field with keen interest. "Veela!"

Onto the field ran a group of just over a hundred women. As music began to play, they launched into an entrancing, fiery dance.

"Oh!" Fleur exclaimed. "I see my second cousin there!"

"Really?" someone asked, intrigued. "She's part of the Bulgarian team's support group?"

"That's right," Fleur replied. "But she didn't mention she'd be here. I'll have a word with her about that later."

The Veela danced with captivating energy and beauty. It was no surprise that most of the male audience seemed to lose their senses. Many, particularly teenagers, started entertaining peculiar ideas about jumping off the stands to join the Veela. When the dance ended, people began to snap out of their daze.

Harry Potter, who had already swung one leg over the railing of the highest stand, looked around with profound embarrassment. His friend Ron Weasley didn't appear much better.

"If they hadn't stopped in time, this place would've been littered with corpses," Hermione whispered. Interestingly, none of her classmates seemed to recognize her, except Draco Malfoy. However, the young Malfoy wasn't inclined to engage in conversation.

"Indeed," Fleur nodded. "That's precisely why so many people hate us."

Fleur spoke even more softly, ensuring no one else overheard her. Like it or not, she had fewer rights in this country than ordinary wizards because she was considered a "magical creature." She added, "I disagree with this and believe it's necessary to push for a review of the laws regarding Veela in the future."

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron, sitting directly in front of Fleur and fidgeting incessantly, were trying to peel off their Irish team badges. It was amusing to see how deeply the dance had affected them.

"And now," Ludo Bagman's voice rang out again, "let us raise our wands in greeting… Here come the mascots of the Irish team!"

At that moment, a massive green-and-gold comet shot across the stadium, leaving the spectators in stunned awe. The dazzling display trailed a complex pattern of sparks, dancing as though in rhythm with the beating hearts of the fans. After completing a graceful loop, the comet split into two smaller orbs, each streaking toward the goalposts in a high-speed, shimmering whistle.

Suddenly, a vibrant rainbow appeared in the sky between the two fiery orbs. It arched majestically over the field, overshadowing all other colors with its brilliance. The radiant spectrum reflected on the enraptured faces of the crowd, filling their hearts with anticipation for the extraordinary match ahead.

But the Irish presentation wasn't finished. At the ends of the rainbow appeared several bearded men tossing gold coins into the air. Upon closer inspection, I recognized them as leprechauns. They showered the stands with golden coins, sparking a frenzy among the wizards scrambling to collect the treasure. Of course, the coins weren't real. Leprechaun gold would vanish in a few days, or at most, weeks.

In the Ministerial Box, no one moved to collect the fake gold—no one except Weasley and Potter. It was obvious who they were. They probably imagined they could become rich this way, but it wasn't going to happen.

I must admit, both teams had gone all out to impress the spectators and win their support.

Fleur watched the scene with disdain. Hermione didn't look particularly pleased either.

Ludo Bagman allowed the crowd a few more moments to revel before announcing:

"Those were spectacular shows! But now, let's get to the main event. The match is about to begin. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome—the Bulgarian national Quidditch team! Introducing: Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Volchanov! Volkov! Krum!"

"There he is, there he is!" Weasley shouted, pointing at the last player—a rather young Bulgarian who circled the stands, pumping his fist and waving.

This time, no one paid attention to the red-haired boy.

The stands erupted in approval, with the Bulgarian fans particularly enthusiastic. Their hopes were pinned on Krum to secure victory, and if he succeeded, their joy would be immeasurable. Some fans would even profit from bets placed on the team.

"And now, let's welcome the Irish national team!" Bagman called hoarsely. "Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Lynch!"

The Irish players, clad in green uniforms, soared onto the field and lined up opposite the Bulgarian team in red. The looks exchanged between the players were intense, brimming with determination. Neither side showed any hint of retreat. Both teams were ready to fight.

Once all the players had taken their positions, three more individuals joined them on the field, dressed in white uniforms.

"And let me introduce our referee—Hasan Mustafa, along with his assistants, Abelton Mizorni and Frutti Luppanko."

A brief pause followed, allowing spectators to absorb the view of the field and its participants. Meanwhile, the referee gave final instructions to the players. But it was clear this wouldn't last much longer. The referee and his assistants flew off in different directions, signaling that the match was ready to begin.

"Let the carnage begin!" Bagman shouted suddenly. The Quaffle shot into the air, and the players surged forward.

To say the players were active would be an understatement. They darted across the field, appearing here and there, each executing a strategy known only to themselves. Watching the game was fascinating—they were giving it their all.

The Irish team scored the first goal within five minutes. This immediately heightened the intensity of the clashes. By the tenth minute, the Bulgarians had equalized. At one point, the Bulgarians nearly scored again, but their attempt was thwarted by the aggressive, borderline-foul actions of the Irish defenders. Neither side was holding back.

The Seekers occasionally shifted positions but had yet to actively participate in the game. They continued their search for the Snitch, which remained elusive. Most of the spectators' attention was fixed on the Beaters, who were keeping the match lively and engaging.

After a while, however, I began to feel a twinge of boredom. The game wasn't improving—the players were already pushing themselves to their limits. Allowing myself to relax, I turned my focus to exploring the thoughts of other wizards in the crowd. Naturally, I was first drawn to Narcissa.

Her mind was easy to slip into, and I immediately sensed her longing to be anywhere else. Narcissa wasn't much of a Quidditch fan; she had come only for Draco. The boy would never again play in proper matches at Hogwarts or elsewhere—those opportunities were permanently closed to him. Narcissa's thoughts were also simmering with fury—toward the Weasleys and her husband. Unable to act, Lucius had subjected her to humiliation, forcing her to endure insults from the Weasleys. She had been genuinely pleased when I put the red-haired man and his accomplices in their place. Narcissa's mind held countless other thoughts and emotions, but I refrained from delving too deeply.

Next, my attention shifted to the mind concealed beneath an Invisibility Cloak. Within moments, I realized the person was slightly unhinged. This piqued my caution, prompting a deeper dive into their memories. It turned out to be Barty Crouch Jr., who had escaped Azkaban with his father's assistance. Why? To resurrect the Dark Lord and exact vengeance on everyone. His plan was already in motion. He had captured Alastor Moody, locked him in a trunk, and assumed his identity to infiltrate Hogwarts and get close to Potter.

He had even met with the partially resurrected Dark Lord, now in a homunculus-like state. His assistant, Wormtail, tended to him diligently, ever hopeful for future rewards. Crouch Jr. was equally determined to see the Dark Lord's return.

Two madmen intent on resurrecting a terrorist—it was fascinating and warranted close observation. A few tracking spells slipped discreetly from my hands, latching onto Crouch without detection. Now, if I ever needed him, I'd know exactly where to find him. Satisfied, I left his mind, mentally shaking off the unpleasant residue, and turned my attention back to the game. Nothing significant had changed except a few goals. The fans, however, seemed on the brink of ecstatic bliss.

Out of curiosity, I decided to explore Potter's mind. What I found was… intriguing. His natural mental defenses looked as though someone had shattered them with a sledgehammer—brutally and thoroughly destroyed. They wouldn't regenerate naturally. Only a Panacea could restore them, and I certainly wasn't about to provide that.

Potter had spent most of the summer with the Weasleys, who had put him to work extensively. Yet, the boy saw it as heavenly bliss. He was with his best friend, part of a "loving" family—what could be better? Cleaning magical fertilizer pits? No problem. Nearly drowning in said fertilizer? Just an accident.

Let's just say… he's been through a lot. How he hasn't lost his mind remains a mystery. His life is chaotic, filled with adventures, and this year promises to bring even more "fun." With the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts and a mad wizard plotting to resurrect his master—whom Potter had nearly sent to oblivion—he's in for an eventful time.

Should I help him? Absolutely not. I remember how he and Weasley treated Hermione. That alone is reason enough to leave him to his own devices. He no longer held my interest.

Finally, my attention shifted to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, who seemed restless and uneasy. Something about his demeanor triggered a sense of foreboding. Carefully, I began unraveling the defenses of his mind. They were fairly standard—nothing too difficult—though they required patience and precision.

As I delved slightly into his thoughts, I immediately detected the distinct stench of demonkind. Well, well—turns out the Bulgarian Minister of Magic was collaborating with demons, the same kind that had caused chaos in Paris and other major cities not long ago.

The Minister seemed to sense something and glanced around cautiously. I feigned engrossment in the game, ensuring my expression betrayed nothing. The Minister relaxed slightly, returning his focus to the match.

Intrigued, I glimpsed memories of him undergoing physical enhancements in exchange for some sort of service. What exactly the service entailed, I couldn't discern. I hurriedly exited his mind when I encountered a magical "bomb"—a deadly spell designed to protect his thoughts. If I hadn't been familiar with draenei magic and its potential traps, I might have overlooked it. The result would have been catastrophic—a literal explosion of my head.

The presence of a demon ally prompted me to search for the demons themselves—if they were indeed present. The last thing we needed was for them to transform this place into a branch of hell. Managing such a threat on an isolated island is far easier than dealing with it on the mainland. For now, without drawing attention to myself through magic, I carefully observed the wizards in the Ministerial Box. Almost immediately, I spotted a demon.

It was disguised as a Bulgarian journalist. A moment later, I identified a second demon, also part of the Bulgarian Minister's entourage.

I hadn't noticed them earlier because they were well-hidden—and, admittedly, I hadn't been specifically searching for such creatures. Now that I had identified them, I needed to decide on my course of action. Should I ignore them… or destroy them?

"Hermione, Fleur," I said, turning to the two young women, "stay close to me if anything happens."

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, a trace of concern in her voice.

"Not yet," I replied. "But anything could happen."

Why was I warning them? Because there were over a hundred thousand wizards from around the world in the stadium. If we consider the usual statistics for the Quidditch World Cup, the official attendance figures often reflect the lower bounds of estimates. There might easily be more than a hundred thousand here now.

At that moment, a wizard sprinted onto the field, halting the match with his disruptive presence. Several Aurors followed him, refraining at first from using magic.

"What's this?" Bagman exclaimed, his voice brimming with surprise. "A fan? Just look at how he's dodging the Aurors! Oh no! He's starting to strip. Ladies, avert your eyes!"

The wizard was indeed removing his clothes. Hermione and Fleur simultaneously closed their eyes, and I appreciated their quick judgment.

"Just look at that!" Bagman continued his play-by-play narration. "I've never seen anything so small… Kids, don't look either! Oh, Merlin, when are the Aurors going to stop him?"

Finally, the Aurors used magic to immobilize him. Golden threads bound the wizard tightly, and a conjured golden sheet covered him. They began escorting him off the field when something unexpected occurred.

A magical field erupted around the wizard, shattering the restraints holding him. He landed deftly on the ground and lunged forward with incredible speed. The Aurors, caught off guard or simply inexperienced, failed to react in time. Flames ignited in the wizard's hand as he drove it through the chest of the first Auror, killing him instantly. He quickly did the same to two others who were chasing him.

"What the—?!" Bagman choked out, his voice breaking.

A Bulgarian journalist suddenly appeared beside Bagman and twisted his head sharply, snapping his neck.

"GUA-A-A-A!" the rogue wizard on the field roared, his voice deep and demonic.

"GUA-A-A-A!" came an answering roar from a hundred other voices.

At this point, my primary concern shifted. I quickly created a protective barrier around myself, Hermione, Fleur, and the Malfoys. It effectively repelled the attacks of yet another demon "fan." The situation was escalating with alarming speed. The first to die were Minister Fudge and the Irish Minister, as the Bulgarian one wasted no time targeting them.

I'd heard demons could influence humans and grant them physical and magical enhancements, but I had never imagined the results would be quite like this.

Next, a magical barrier in the shape of a semi-dome appeared over the stadium. I recognized the spell from the memories of the draenei. It was a defensive barrier typically used to protect a city during a siege. However, this one had been modified, and it was functioning in reverse. This was very bad news.

Somehow, Potter and Weasley managed to slip under my protection. Despite my personal feelings toward them, I couldn't allow them to be slaughtered by demons.

"What is this?" Narcissa asked, her voice trembling with fear.

"Demons," I replied calmly. "I've fought them before—in Paris, during the anomaly breach."

"My cousin is there!" Fleur cried, pointing toward the Veela.

Everyone turned to see a group of Veela surrounded by three demons and five demon worshippers. The demons loomed menacingly, while the worshippers chanted, their eyes glowing unnaturally.

"Timothy, please save her," Fleur pleaded.

I couldn't refuse her. Scanning the scene, I began devising a plan. Apparition was impossible due to the magical barrier encasing the stadium. To escape or disable the barrier, we would need to locate the control artifact. If the demons and their allies had planned this attack thoroughly, finding it would not be easy, but it wasn't impossible.

The stadium was descending into chaos. Spells flashed across the stands. Screams of pain mixed with the guttural roars of demons, creating a cacophony of terror. The Ministerial Box was no exception, as the conflict there escalated grimly.

Even the house-elf guarding Crouch attempted to escape but failed. The barrier was proving highly effective at preventing retreat. This was worse than I had anticipated.

Enough waiting—it was time to act. With a sharp flick of my wand, I unleashed a surge of magical lightning that arced across the demons, obliterating them. Their essence flowed into me, ensuring their inability to resurrect. The human accomplices, however, were merely stunned and bound.

"Stay here," I instructed the group sheltered within my protective spell.

Transforming into a bird, I dove from the stands, my wings cutting through the air as I stabilized my descent. Over the Veela, I shifted back into human form mid-air. My first spell struck true, killing one of the demons poised to charge into the crowd of Veela dancers.

The remaining demons and their allies turned their focus on me, launching their own attacks. One demon managed to deflect my spell, but the second broke through his defenses, obliterating him with precision. Quick, efficient, decisive.

From the field, I surveyed the carnage unfolding in the stands. The demons showed no mercy, slaughtering anyone who dared oppose them. Their human allies, armed with cursed weapons and unstable spells, made the situation far worse. Corpses littered the stadium—some lifeless, others grotesquely mutilated. Blood soaked the ground, forming a sickening mosaic of violence.

"Monsieur Jody!" one of the Veela dancers called out. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for saving us!"

"No need to thank me," I replied, breathless but focused, as another demon fell to a flick of my wand.

Each demon I destroyed infused me with a fragment of their essence, subtly enhancing my own power. It wasn't much, but every little bit counted.

Exhaling deeply, I waved my wand to clear the corpses from the immediate vicinity of the Veela. I needed to decide my next move.

"Can you protect yourselves?" I asked the group.

"Monsieur," one of the older Veela replied, "we are not combat mages; we are just dancers."

"Understood," I nodded. "Stay here for one minute. I'll return shortly."

The Veela nodded, and I shifted back into bird form, taking flight toward the Ministerial Box. Even from a distance, I could see spells flying in every direction. Malfoy was dueling Crouch Jr., who had succumbed to his madness. Nearby, Arthur Weasley fought with an intense resolve—not siding with either of them but clearly battling for his own survival and that of his family.

Arthur alternated between attacking and defending himself against both opponents. Fleur had pulled Hermione aside and was shielding her with a magical barrier. Potter and the other Weasleys were positioned on the opposite side of the box, where the elder Weasley brothers were doing their best to protect their family and friends. Meanwhile, Narcissa stood guard over Draco, her eyes fixed on Lucius as he battled two adversaries at once.

"Enough! Stop this now!" I ordered sharply, stepping between the fighters. "This is not the time to settle personal disputes."

"Avada Kedavra!" Crouch Jr. suddenly shouted, aiming the killing curse at me.

The green curse shot from his wand, but I wasn't afraid. The spell is lethal if neither evaded nor countered, but I knew exactly what to do. A sweep of my hand stirred the air, raising dust that quickly coalesced into small stones. The green beam burned through half of them, leaving charred marks, but the rest absorbed the curse completely.

With a pushing motion of my hand, I slammed Crouch against the wall. The force killed him instantly, and I absorbed his soul along with his memories. To avoid arousing suspicion, I transfigured a stone slab to cover his body.

"We need to get down to the field," I said, glancing at the others. Lucius and Arthur clearly loathed the idea of working together, but neither dared to oppose me.

As if to punctuate my words, the stands shook violently. Part of the structure collapsed, burying bodies and even some living wizards under the debris. The horrifying sight quickly convinced everyone that we needed to act fast to avoid the same fate.

"What do we do?" Lucius asked, his voice betraying his unease.

"We need to get down," I replied calmly.

The box trembled again, the vibrations growing more intense.

"How?" Malfoy asked. His desire to survive was clear, but he seemed at a loss for how to proceed.

"I can detach this box along with part of the stands and lower it to the ground," I explained. "But you'll all need to hold onto something solid."

"That sounds dangerous," Lucius muttered.

"Do it, Timothy," Narcissa interrupted firmly, silencing her husband.

I nodded and ignored the Weasleys, who remained silent but watchful. Raising my wand, I cast a sharp, precise spell that severed the Ministerial Box from the rest of the structure. With another wave, the box floated upward briefly before beginning its steady descent. The movement was controlled and deliberate, ensuring a safe landing on the ground.

As the box touched down, Malfoy, Weasley, and the others quickly exited. The demons' accomplices didn't interfere—they were incapable of doing so. Releasing the spell, I noticed the box beginning to crumble, its structural integrity irreparably weakened.

"Cousin!" one of the Veela dancers exclaimed, rushing to Fleur and embracing her. "I'm so glad to see you! I didn't expect to find you here."

"I'm glad you're safe too," Fleur replied, hugging her tightly.

Turning to the assembled wizards, I addressed them. "As you've likely realized, we're in the middle of a very unpleasant situation. Allow me to explain. We are surrounded by an inverted barrier—originally designed to protect cities and fortresses. However, this one has been modified, meaning we can't leave until we locate and destroy the artifact powering it.

"Second, there are demons among us who are hostile to wizards. Killing them is difficult, though not impossible. Fortunately, I have an artifact capable of doing so, so you don't need to worry about that.

"Third, the demons have wizard allies who have enhanced their magic or physical abilities in exchange for their personal freedom. These individuals are particularly dangerous."

I paused, scanning the faces of the group. "Any questions?"

No one responded immediately. The sheer weight of the situation seemed to paralyze them. Unfortunately, there was no time to pitty their shock. Every moment counted, and explanations would only go so far.

"Perhaps we could contact Dumbledore or other wizards?" Arthur Weasley suggested suddenly.

"That's a good idea," I nodded. "You can try."

Arthur cast a Patronus to send a message, but it quickly returned, unable to pass through the barrier created by the demons.

"My Patronus can't get through the barrier," Arthur sighed. "I have no other ideas or questions."

"Understood," I said. "Here's the plan: we need to leave the field and regroup in an open area. There, we'll create a small defensive fort where we can gather other wizards. The main challenge will be separating normal wizards from those allied with the demons. It won't be easy, but I believe we can devise a method for filtering them. Meanwhile, I'll handle the demons."

I scanned the group under my protection and allowed myself a quiet exhale. This wouldn't be easy. If I only needed to protect myself, it would've been simpler—my mobility would remain unhindered. Defending this group, however, meant my focus would shift toward shielding them rather than eliminating threats. It was a limitation, but not an insurmountable one.

"Keep your wands ready for battle," I instructed the wizards.

"We don't have wands," one of the Veela dancers said in French. "When we arrived, the English Aurors forced us to seal our wands in a portable case."

She spoke fluently, which meant only Fleur, Hermione (to a degree), and I understood her. That was probably for the best. The lack of wands hadn't occurred to me, and now it added another layer of complexity to an already difficult situation.

"Where are they?" I asked.

"According to our agreement with the Ministry, they should be stored in our representative's room at a hotel in Diagon Alley," another Veela explained.

"Perfect," I sighed. "Alright. Stay close to me."

The other wizards drew their wands, bracing for a potential fight. Strangely, the demons seemed unusually perceptive—they hadn't attacked while we were planning. It was unsettling, but I wasn't about to question the temporary reprieve.

As soon as we began making our way off the field, however, the demons and their allies swarmed us like ants.

Defending against their attacks wasn't overly difficult, but the ferocity of their assault unsettled the wizards under my protection. For example, one demon with bloodied arms up to his elbows roared ferociously and charged at the defenseless Veela. Before he could strike, a spell from Malfoy hit him with such force that it sent him flying several meters back. I quickly finished the job, ensuring the demon's soul was dealt with permanently.

Narcissa, though not a trained combat mage, demonstrated remarkable determination. Her wand flickered with a grayish light, signaling that she was prepared to obliterate any threat with extreme prejudice.

To avoid traversing potentially hazardous routes, I decided to create a new path. A few waves of my wand, and a powerful spell obliterated part of the stands, opening a wide passage for us. Another wave cleared away the debris, depositing it safely on the ground.

The awe on the faces of the wizards and Veela was evident. They were aware of my power, but they had never seen the true extent of it. Passing through the new passage, we quickly emerged onto the field, where a chaotic melee was unfolding.

Wizards were battling demons, clashing with the demons' allies, and even fighting Death Eaters, who had inexplicably appeared. The Death Eaters, in turn, were locked in combat with both the demons and their human accomplices.

"Well, this is a mess," I muttered.

It was hard to miss the tension radiating from Arthur toward Lucius. I knew Malfoy had been a Death Eater under the Dark Lord. As for these Death Eaters, it was unclear whether they were here for entertainment or to send some kind of public message. If it was the latter, this was the worst possible time. If it was the former, then they were simply idiots.

Surprisingly, Arthur chose to stay silent. For that, he deserved some credit. In most other circumstances, I doubted he would have held his tongue.

No matter. If the Death Eaters attacked us, I would destroy them. Everyone in England knew what they were: murderers, sadists, and rapists, molded in the Dark Lord's image.

"So," I addressed the group, "if you wish, this is your chance to part ways. I don't want anyone claiming later that I didn't give them a choice. From here on, the path will only get harder, and I won't tolerate insubordination. If you don't want to follow my lead, you're free to go your own way."

While they considered their options, I killed two more demons, absorbing their souls and knowledge. I also incapacitated a few of their wizard allies, sending them into a deep magical sleep. Dealing with them wasn't my priority; they could be handed over to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Aurors, or the Unspeakables later.

Meanwhile, Arthur successfully cast another Patronus, this time managing to make contact with someone else trapped in the same predicament.

"We're with you, Monsieur Jody," Fleur's cousin said. She had been chosen by the Veela dancers as their spokesperson—a smart decision to ensure their safety.

"We're with you as well," Narcissa added. I noticed that Lucius had hesitated, clearly considering a different course of action. But his wife convinced him that staying under my protection was safer than attempting to escape on their own.

"I won't follow a dark wizard," Arthur declared defiantly.

Most of the group gave him incredulous looks, as if he'd just confessed to eating raw gillyweed. He was unfazed by their stares.

"I'm going to meet up with some people I know who are also here," he explained. "I've known them for a long time and worked with them before."

"Very well," I replied evenly. "Good luck. I hope you survive this slaughter."

With that, Arthur departed, taking his sons and Potter with him. It would be unfortunate if anything happened to them, but this was his decision. He wasn't a child; he could make his own choices.

"Alright," I addressed those who had stayed, "we need to move away from this chaos and fortify ourselves somewhere safer. Other wizards will likely join us along the way, so stay alert. I might not catch everything."

Looking at the nervous faces of the group, I concluded that most of them wouldn't be much help in a fight. Neither Fleur nor Hermione were ready to take on leadership roles; they were still young and lacked the necessary experience.

"Does anyone here have experience in magical combat?" I asked.

Lucius raised his hand, albeit reluctantly. It was clear he wasn't eager to admit it. Frankly, I didn't blame him. But extraordinary situations demand extraordinary measures.

"Good," I said, drawing out the word. "Alright, we'll make do with what we have. Follow me."

As soon as we started moving, the demons found us. They didn't bother with traps or ambushes. These creatures charged directly at me, tearing through burning and destroyed tents. As the leader of the group, I was clearly their prime target—and they would've been correct if I weren't far stronger than them.

With a flick of my wand, one demon burst into flames, leaving behind only a bizarrely twisted skeleton. I absorbed its soul without hesitation and immediately targeted the next one. This demon was faster, leaping to the side and dodging my attack. My spell struck the ground, leaving a deep, narrow crater. Even as the demon evaded, I deflected a magical attack from a third demon.

A fireball splashed against my shield. With a quick twist of my wrist, I redirected it toward the second demon. It didn't react in time, and the fireball exploded on contact, engulfing it in flames. I turned my attention back to the third demon, which unleashed two slicing waves of magic. They carved deep furrows into the ground, but I wasn't intimidated.

A transfiguration spell raised a wall in front of me, and the magical blades slammed into it, leaving deep gouges but failing to cut through. Another wave of my wand shattered the wall into hundreds of shards, which flew at tremendous speed, tearing apart two demons simultaneously.

"Keep moving," I instructed the group, clearing the path ahead with another spell that swept aside the remnants of tents and debris blocking our way.

The Veela, my students, and the Malfoys all followed closely, fear etched on their faces. My students trusted me to protect them, and while the Malfoys could choose to separate and try their luck alone, the Veela had no such option. They were entirely reliant on me. Abandoning them would mean certain death—and though their beauty, typical of Veela, might captivate others, it had nothing to do with my actions. Absolutely nothing.

We avoided the most intense battles as we made our way toward the barrier's edge. Demon activity was less concentrated there, making it a slightly more defensible position. I doubted the demons had any easy way to escape the barrier either, which meant securing one side would simplify our defense—at least marginally.

As we neared the barrier, we encountered a grim and horrifying sight. A mountain of corpses, three times the height of a man, loomed before us. At its peak sat a grotesque humanoid demon with unnaturally long arms and a hideous, blood-drenched face. Chunks of flesh were still visible on its jagged teeth.

The group's reaction was immediate and visceral. The Veela recoiled in horror, Narcissa and Draco turned pale, and even Hermione and Fleur averted their eyes. Lucius, though a former Death Eater, appeared visibly unsettled. It seemed that even he had never witnessed something so grotesque.

The demon noticed us. Rising from its crude throne of corpses, it began its descent, stepping on the lifeless bodies as though they were stairs. At the base, it crushed someone's head underfoot with a sickening crack.

"Look away," I instructed firmly. "It's better if you don't see this."

"Khe-he-he," the demon cackled in an inhuman voice. "More tasty toys have arrived! Honestly, when I came to this world, I never imagined your flesh would be so delicious. And mages? They're a delicacy! He-he-he."

"Your path ends here, demon," I said coldly.

"I cannot die in this world!" it screamed, laughing maniacally. "Ah-ha-ha-ha! Fool! You'd better submit and become my food! Resistance is futile! I will kill you and devour you! Meat!"

"You're mistaken."

The demon lunged at me, its intent clear—but it hadn't expected to face a wizard of my caliber. With a sharp motion of my wand, a transparent wall materialized in its path. The demon slammed into it with such force that I briefly thought it might shatter. It didn't. The demon fell to the ground, stunned by the impact.

I didn't give it time to recover. The wall crumbled into sand as I cast my next spell. This creature's death wouldn't be quick or painless. A fire spell, interwoven with red lightning, began to consume it slowly, tearing it apart with excruciating precision.

"A-a-a-a-ah!" the demon howled in agony, its voice reverberating through the chaotic air. It thrashed desperately, trying to extinguish the flames consuming its grotesque form, but the spell spread relentlessly to new parts of its body. The red lightning interwoven with the fire burned through its nerves while simultaneously healing it just enough to prolong its suffering.

With a subtle adjustment of my wand, I accelerated the spell's effects. The flames intensified, incinerating the demon more rapidly. Within a minute, its howls ceased, and the creature was reduced to ashes.

I absorbed its soul, but a wave of revulsion washed over me. It felt as though I'd briefly plunged into filth, the foul essence of the demon clinging to me before dissipating.

My gaze shifted to the mountain of corpses. Disturbing it would only add to the grotesque spectacle. Instead, I raised my wand and transfigured a massive tomb to encase the entire pile. The interior was enchanted to maintain an extremely low temperature, preserving the bodies for identification. Once the demons were dealt with, families and Ministry officials could reclaim their dead and arrange for proper burials according to their traditions.

"Let's move," I said, turning back to the group. "This is not the best place to fortify ourselves."