Man of Archives

In my free time, when I wasn't engaged in research or training Fleur, I spent my hours meditating, studying various materials, and fulfilling my responsibilities as headmaster.

The latter role was both fascinating and tedious. On one hand, it was intriguing to observe the students as they pursued their goals, learned new things, and resolved conflicts among themselves. On the other hand, being a headmaster involved a considerable amount of dull administrative work. In addition to interacting with teachers and students, I had to deal with endless paperwork. Let me tell you, paperwork is a nightmare—even magic offers little help with that.

Another essential task I undertook was preparing a Panacea for myself. If the opportunity to create such a powerful healing potion exists, there's no reason to delay it. You never know what the future holds or what risks I might face. Having a potion of this caliber could be a lifesaver if any of my experiments go awry. In the future, I'll need to prepare one for Fleur as well.

Waiting for the right time to use Superanalysis and Compression at Flamel's home tested my patience. However, when the moment finally arrived, I felt immense satisfaction as I headed there to harvest the fruits of my Archive's enhanced abilities.

At the entrance, I nodded to the familiar wizard. As usual, he was asleep and only stirred when I approached. Recognizing me, he waved lazily and promptly drifted back into slumber. Apparently, sleeping was his favorite pastime, and honestly, I didn't mind if he stayed that way.

Inside, the alchemist's house remained unchanged. Sitting in a corner and cloaking myself with charms, I connected to the local information network. Instantly, I saw the option to download a compressed file. A quick estimate showed it would take just over three hours to complete. Since I had time to spare, I initiated the process without hesitation.

Three hours—is that a lot or a little? On one hand, it could feel like an eternity with nothing to do. On the other, I simply waited for the material to fully download into my Archive. While I was excited about the knowledge I would soon acquire, I tempered my enthusiasm. True success would come only after I unpacked the file and conducted a full Superanalysis.

When the download completed, I felt an incomparable surge of satisfaction. The massive file was now securely stored in my Archive. As soon as the download finished, the system began unpacking the materials automatically, ensuring everything was properly organized. With this complete, I was confident I could perform a Superanalysis to deepen my understanding of magic.

"Hey, kid," an old man called out to me. "You okay?"

Apparently, I had lingered here longer than expected.

"Yes," I replied. "Thanks for asking. I was just admiring this painting, trying to figure out what Nicolas was trying to convey."

The old man glanced at the painting and fell silent for a moment.

"To me, it just looks like a bunch of random strokes," he said bluntly.

Let's just say I used the painting as an excuse. Honestly, I had expected him to try sounding sophisticated, like an art critic or something. His straightforward criticism caught me off guard.

"Maybe there really is no hidden meaning," I shrugged and stood up. "Anyway, I've overstayed my welcome."

"Yeah, good luck at the school," he said with a wave, dismissing me.

Returning to Beauxbatons, I immediately changed for a training session with Fleur. She was making remarkable progress with a program beyond her current grade level, which thrilled her to no end. Teachers and students quickly noticed her advancements, and I began receiving letters from interested parents. They wanted advice on how to maximize their children's chances of becoming my apprentice.

My replies were intentionally vague. I neither promised to take their children on as apprentices nor explicitly declined. Meanwhile, André asked when I planned to inform the students about next year's events and how I intended to select the top performers. When I sought his advice, he offered a simple suggestion: "A tournament."

A tournament among the students was the perfect solution. It would test them across several disciplines, and the highest scorers overall would go on to represent the school.

For me, this was a convenient solution—I wouldn't need to personally decide who would represent Beauxbatons in the Triwizard Tournament. Naturally, Fleur would need to qualify and be part of the group traveling to Hogwarts.

During dinner, as all the students and teachers gathered in the hall, I decided it was the perfect moment to make the announcement.

Tapping my glass, I amplified the sound with magic, letting it resonate throughout the hall to draw everyone's attention. Both teachers and students turned to me with expressions of curiosity and nervousness, as if bracing for bad news.

"My dear friends," I began, addressing the students, "I want to share something important that will take place next year."

A faint wave of murmurs spread across the room but was quickly silenced by another subtle use of magic.

"Next year, Beauxbatons will participate in a very special event," I continued. "This event is called the Triwizard Tournament, and it will take place at Hogwarts in England."

With a flick of my hand, I conjured a small illusion of the Triwizard Cup, accompanied by images of the other schools. The students' and teachers' attention was now fully on me.

"The tournament involves three students representing their schools. Our opponents will be Hogwarts and Durmstrang," I explained, pausing to let the information sink in.

"The Cup," I said, gesturing toward the illusion of the cup, "will choose the most worthy students from the three schools. This means each school must present a group of its finest students for selection. To decide our group, we will hold a school-wide tournament in September of the next academic year."

I allowed the statement to hang in the air before continuing.

"All students of age will be eligible to participate. The top fifteen students with the best results will travel to Hogwarts to compete for a chance to be selected as participants. You have the summer and the remainder of this semester to prepare. I trust you will not disappoint me."

The students began whispering among themselves, their quiet murmurs hinting at a growing excitement and lively discussions about the tournament and how best to prepare for it.

"One more thing," I said, reclaiming their attention. "The tournament will encompass all core subjects of the school, including Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Combat Magic. That is all."

Returning to my large, comfortable chair, I watched with great interest as the students resumed their conversations about the tournament. I had no doubt these discussions would intensify, especially once the first students read more about it in the library. I had already ensured that the necessary information was available there.

"Headmaster, how long have you known about this tournament?" one of the professors asked.

"That depends on what you mean by 'long,'" I replied, adopting a more philosophical tone. "In a historical context, I learned about it quite recently. In the context of this year, I've known for quite some time."

After that, none of the professors or teachers ventured to ask further questions. No one wanted to risk engaging in what they considered "demagoguery" with me—a debate they were certain they would lose.

The next few weeks passed relatively calmly. I continued training Fleur, maintained my own practice, and awaited the completion of the file unpacking process. This occurred during the night, though the process itself had technically finished earlier in the day. I discovered that for my Archive to become fully functional, I needed to sleep. Meditation alone wasn't sufficient; it didn't facilitate the type of deep information transfer that sleep enabled.

During sleep, I essentially lived through the contents of all the books that had been uploaded. In a single night, I absorbed the entirety of the materials processed through Self-Analysis. The experience was overwhelming—it was as though I momentarily understood everything but had forgotten some details that needed refreshing through revisiting specific texts or using Superanalysis.

The latter was part of my plan. I needed to consolidate the knowledge I had acquired since my last Superanalysis. Performing a comprehensive Superanalysis on all the data in my Archive would take about a month—a significant amount of time I didn't currently have. Still, I was confident I could carve it out if absolutely necessary.

With only a month of the school year remaining, however, disappearing to conduct a Superanalysis wasn't feasible. My contract with the French Ministry of Magic didn't permit a month-long hiatus for personal projects. For now, I would have to either wait until summer or devise another way to make it work.

An intriguing development was the Ministry's acknowledgment that my "artifact" was capable of completely destroying demons—a revelation they had been careful not to share with other ministries. The political maneuvering surrounding this was fascinating. To secure my ongoing cooperation, the Ministry proposed a new contract.

"Monsieur Jody," Minister Antoine addressed me, "I'd like to express my gratitude for the earlier demonstration of your artifact's capabilities. We are interested in hiring you for the elimination of other captured demons. What do you think?"

"I'm open to the idea," I replied. "Let's discuss the specifics."

"Yes," the wizard nodded. "We'd like to offer you an exclusive contract for eliminating demons captured by the Gendarmerie."

"That sounds interesting," I said. "What are you offering?"

"We're offering the rank of Captain in the Gendarmerie, a comprehensive benefits package, and the opportunity to obtain French citizenship," he began. "Additionally, after ten years, you'd be granted an estate on the Golden Coast. Naturally, you'd also have our respect and support in all your other endeavors."

"That does sound appealing," I said with a nod. "But surely, this isn't just about demon elimination, is it?"

"Correct," the wizard admitted. "This service would be exclusive to the Gendarmerie and the Ministry. If any other organization wished to make a similar arrangement with you, they would need to go through the Ministry of Magic. Additionally, you would be prohibited from using the artifact outside of the Ministry's dungeons."

"Hold on, hold on," I interrupted. "I can understand exclusivity, but that last condition? You've got to be kidding me. Why don't you go snack on some frog legs instead?"

"Not a problem," Antoine replied smoothly. "We'll remove that clause."

"And don't you think the compensation for exclusivity should be much higher? I'm sure the Inquisition would happily offer me more..."

"The Inquisition would happily burn you at the stake," the Frenchman retorted.

"They'd have to try first," I said with a smirk. "Who knows what tricks I might have up my sleeve."

"They have more tricks than you," the minister shot back. "But fine, I see your point. What would you like in exchange for exclusivity, Monsieur Jody?"

"A one-year contract," I said, sliding the terms toward him. "And I receive all the benefits mentioned. If you want exclusivity in demon extermination for a longer period, I'll need a warm island for personal use."

"But wait, monsieur. You can destroy ten demons in a single week, can't you?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Then, over the course of a year, you'll eliminate five hundred demons," he calculated. "Do you really think that's enough to warrant such significant rewards?"

"Why not?" I replied. "As it stands, I'm the only one who can completely destroy demons. And I'm here, right now."

There's a certain satisfaction in being the one person everyone needs—even those who don't fully realize it yet. It puts you in a position to dictate terms, knowing the other party must accept them because rejecting them would only make their situation worse.

Judging by the minister's expression, I could tell how drained he already was, despite the negotiation being relatively short. Then again, it made perfect sense why I had been appointed as the director of Beauxbaton: I was the least politically involved figure in France. No one could leverage prior affiliations or connections against me. Well, except for Delacour, who, as it turned out, was the head of one of the Ministry's departments.

"Timothy, you must understand, I can't agree to these terms," Antoine sighed. "Let's not push too hard and aim for an agreement that benefits us all."

"Fine," I said with a nod.

"So, what do you want?"

"I've already told you," I replied. "A one-year contract. I don't need any ranks within your Ministry's structure, but I'll expect monthly compensation equivalent to a captain's pay. I'll also require an estate on the Golden Coast. Lastly, the contract will be exclusive to the Gendarmerie."

"Very well," the minister said with a weary exhale, acknowledging my victory in the negotiation. "The only term I can't concede on is the compensation. In this case, I can offer the pay of a sergeant."

"All right," I said, as if doing him a favor. "I'll accept."

The contract was prepared swiftly, and I reviewed it carefully to confirm that every detail we discussed was included. Satisfied, I signed my name. The Ministry's seal was already affixed.

"Do you have the artifact with you?" the minister asked. "We already have an assignment for you."

"Yes," I nodded. "The artifact is always with me, and I'm ready to fulfill my part of the deal."

We descended into the dungeons of the French Ministry of Magic, where they led me to a cell holding captured demons. There were exactly ten of them, which pleased me. After purging them and feeling a slight increase in my own strength, I bid the minister farewell and returned to Beauxbaton.

Life gradually settled back into its routine. I was especially pleased to observe Fleur's growth in both strength and skills. She had clearly overcome her developmental plateau and was ready to achieve new heights.

"Mentor," Fleur addressed me.

"Yes?" I responded. During training sessions, I had instructed her to call me "Mentor." At other times, she could use my name, and when other students were present, she was to address me as "Director."

"How will training be conducted during the summer?" she asked.

"It's simple," I replied. "We'll travel to England, where I have some matters to attend to. We'll pick up my first student and then return to continue your training. Hermione needs to keep progressing, too."

Fleur nodded and resumed practicing one of her spells.

The next morning, I received a letter from her father inviting me to meet with him and Apolline to discuss an important matter. I replied with my agreement, providing a time and date when I'd be available. The owl returned later that evening with their confirmation, along with a request for me to bring Fleur.

Two days later, Fleur and I arrived at the Delacour residence, where we were greeted warmly. Apolline immediately rushed to embrace her daughter, while Amel shook my hand.

"Monsieur Jody, come in, come in," he said, leading me to the familiar dining room. After a short while, Apolline, Fleur, and little Gabrielle joined us.

"How are you finding your work at the school?" Amel asked.

"Not bad, to be honest," I replied. "So far, I haven't encountered anything troubling, though some aspects of the job do interfere with my personal research and development."

"And what are you working on?" Apolline asked, her curiosity evident.

"Nothing much at the moment," I shrugged. "When I have something worth presenting, it might interest you. For now... nothing noteworthy."

I wasn't about to tell them I could practically create gold out of thin air.

"Well, fair enough," Amel said with a nod. "If you ever need assistance with resources or personnel, don't hesitate to reach out to me. I know a few skilled witches and wizards who could make excellent assistants."

"Thank you for the offer," I said with a nod, "but for now, I don't think I need any help."

"As you wish. My job is simply to offer," Amel replied. "Your method of disciplining students has caused quite a stir among Ministry officials. It's earned you a fair number of enemies."

"Is that so?" I asked mockingly. "I've already told the Minister they're welcome to come to me directly and make their case—with their wands. My skills and preparation haven't dulled since my battle with the demon."

"Exactly," Amel agreed. "But you must remember, Ministry officials are often not the sharpest wizards. Many of them, by the way, are loyal to the Minister of Magic's party. Rumor has it they're planning some kind of action against you. What exactly, I don't know…"

"I see," I replied thoughtfully. "Thank you for the warning."

After a while, food and light alcoholic drinks were brought to us. The conversation flowed slowly and casually, touching on a variety of topics.

"Timothy," Apolline eventually said, her tone more serious, "I wanted to discuss something with you."

"Go ahead," I said with a nod.

"What are your intentions with Fleur?"

"The most serious," I replied plainly. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," she said with a sweet smile. "I'm just very happy for you and my daughter. You have my blessing, of course."

"Thank you, Mother," Fleur said softly, glancing briefly at her father.

"Timothy, would you like to play a game of chess with me?" Amel asked, breaking the moment. "Let the ladies discuss whatever important matters they have."

Amel led me to the chess room, a space filled with an array of magical chess sets. They ranged from simple wooden boards to elaborate sets crafted from white and black gold, encrusted with magical gems that shimmered faintly in the light.

"Which set would you like to use?" Amel asked.

"I'll play black," I said with a nod.

"Very well," he agreed, rotating the board so that I had the black pieces and he the white. His first move was pawn to e2-e4. I mirrored it with my black pawn. The game began at a measured pace, and soon we transitioned from the opening phase into a captivating middle game.

Tell me, Monsieur Jody," Amel said as it became his turn, "have you ever dreamed of participating in the country's political life?"

I paused to think. It wasn't a question I often considered, though I wouldn't say it had never crossed my mind.

"I did once," I admitted, "but I eventually realized it probably isn't for me."

"You're in an excellent position," Amel remarked. "As a powerful wizard with considerable achievements at such a young age, you'd have significant support if you ever wanted to become the Minister of Magic for England."

"Probably," I replied evenly.

"I have no such opportunity," he admitted candidly. "I can't rise higher than Head of the Minister's Department unless something extraordinary happens—like the Minister and everyone else dying."

My gut told me there might be more to this statement than simple honesty. Was a conspiracy brewing?

"Is that so?" I drawled. "And why is that?"

"I'm married to a Veela, and I'm also one-eighth Lutin," he explained.

I studied him carefully but noticed nothing unusual about his appearance. Lutins were humans who emerged from one of the anomalies a little over three centuries ago. They were few in number, forming only a small community. While they looked entirely human and used the same magic, they had faced significant discrimination before gradually integrating into the local population.

"I see," I said with a nod. "That explains why your chances of becoming Minister aren't very high."

"Yes," he agreed. "It used to be my dream… but then it was destroyed."

I had no desire to delve into his trauma. From what he had already shared, I could infer that someone—perhaps another department head or even the Minister himself—had been responsible for "destroying" his dream of becoming Minister.

"And how did that happen?" I asked anyway, despite my reservations.

"During the last election, I wanted to run as a candidate," he said. "But someone leaked that I'm not one hundred percent human. After that, I was forced to withdraw my candidacy and pray they didn't strip me of my position as Head of Department."

"Dreams are an important part of any intelligent being's life," I responded.

"I won't beat around the bush," he said, leaning forward slightly. "I've developed a plan to fulfill my dream, and I'd like to ask for your help."

"Let's say I agree," I replied, meeting his gaze. "What's in it for me?"

"As you've probably realized, I have no objections to you being with my daughter, so that definitely won't be my reward. If I become Minister, the island of Corsica will be yours."

"Just like that?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

Corsica—a large island, one of the jewels of the Mediterranean.

"Yes," he confirmed with a nod.

"And what about the non-magicals and others?" I pressed.

"Deal with the Muggles however you like," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Evict them if you wish, or don't. Either way, it'll be your island. Additionally, under my leadership, the Ministry will sign a permanent contract granting you the position of Beauxbaton's director."

"All of this sounds very appealing," I replied. "But surely it can't be that simple?"

"Of course not," he said with a heavy exhale. "As you've probably guessed, I have no choice but to remove the Minister and the other department heads—and remove them permanently. If this succeeds, I'll take the position of Minister. The deputies of the department heads will automatically assume their roles unless, of course, they meet the same fate."

"And how many bodies would there need to be?" I asked.

"Thirty, in an ideal scenario," he said calmly. "That would allow some of my acquaintances and allies to advance into the department head positions."

"All of this sounds like a full-fledged bloody coup," I said, dragging out the words as I paused to think. "This could backfire."

"Yes, it could," he admitted with a nod. "But that's why I'll need your help—primarily for you to openly support me during an emergency press conference."

"And that's all?"

"No, unfortunately, it's not," he said with another exhale. "I'll also need you to charge a certain artifact with magical energy."

"What kind of artifact?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. I was genuinely intrigued by what kind of object I'd need to charge—and how dangerous it might be.

"Let me show you," he said, quickly leaving the room. A few minutes later, he returned with a small box. He opened it to reveal a platinum object inside. With a wave of my hand, I lifted it into the air and rotated it, studying it from every angle.

"Very interesting," I remarked. And it truly was. I recognized the artifact. In fact, I even knew who had created it. From the memories of a witch I had absorbed what felt like an eternity ago, I knew she had been its maker.

This artifact, when used correctly, could subject several minds to horrifying mental tortures before returning them to their bodies—killing them in the process. To create it, she had used the mixed blood of children tortured to death. In short, it was a vile and abhorrent piece of work.

"You know how to use it?" I asked.

"I have the blood of each target," he said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "They were careless enough to share a bed with Muggles."

"For the last time, are you absolutely sure you want to go down this path?" I asked, fixing him with a serious look.

"Yes," he replied after a brief pause, his tone resolute.

"Very well," I said with a nod. "I'll charge the artifact and support you when the time comes."

"I promise to uphold every part of our agreement," he said earnestly. For a moment, I sensed a fluctuation in the magic around us. It seemed Amel truly believed his own words—or perhaps it was one of his undocumented personal abilities.

Charging the artifact was simple for me, given my understanding of its creation, underlying schematics, and other intricate details. Once charged, the artifact took on a pale gray hue. Handing it back to Delacour, I observed him closely as he carefully returned it to its box and hurriedly carried it away.

"Want to finish the chess game?" he asked, gesturing toward the board.

"Not really," I said, shaking my head.

We returned to the main hall, where a visibly anxious Fleur and her mother were waiting for us. Gabrielle, who had been amusing herself, lit up with curiosity when we entered. She was clearly eager to learn what we had discussed.

"Dear?" Apolline prompted gently.

"Ahem," Amel cleared his throat, as if gathering his thoughts. "Fleur, I believe Timothy is a wonderful match for you. As your father, I wholeheartedly approve of your relationship with him, whatever form it may take. Monsieur Jody, take good care of my daughter."

"Of course, Monsieur Delacour," I said with a respectful nod, taking a seat at the table.

The joy on Fleur's face was indescribable. Her smile was so radiant it was almost dazzling.

"Thank you, Maman, Papa," she said warmly, nodding at both of them. "I'm so grateful to you."

The conversation flowed much more easily after that, as Apolline had fully accepted me into the family. Her change in attitude was unmistakable—she didn't even try to hide it. Amel, too, seemed genuinely happy for his daughter, though he was undoubtedly aware of what I had done for him in return.

"By the way, the Quidditch World Cup final is set to take place in England," Amel said casually. "I'm sure I can arrange the best seats for you."

"Thank you, Papa!" Fleur exclaimed with a bright smile. "You're the best!"

"Of course I am," Amel replied with a proud smirk.

"Timothy," Apolline said, turning her attention to me, "what are your plans for the summer?"

"Plans for the summer?" I echoed. "Well, my main focus is continuing Fleur's training."

The conversation didn't stretch much further after that, and soon Fleur and I returned to the school. Once we were back, she paused for a moment, standing still as though making an important decision.

"Timothy," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I want to be your woman today. Completely and fully."

"Are you certain?" I asked, meeting her gaze. "There will be no turning back after this."

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure," she said with a resolute nod, a soft smile forming on her lips.

I stepped closer to her, moving deliberately. Gently, I tilted her chin up and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

"Then I have no objections either," I said quietly.

***

Hermione sat at her desk, bored. The lesson dragged on, covering material she had long since mastered. As the top student at Hogwarts and a favorite of Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, she had access to countless opportunities. Her desk partner, Daphne Greengrass, often sought her help with certain subjects, a habit Hermione found endearing.

Following her mentor's advice—or more accurately, his command—Hermione had distanced herself from Potter and Weasley. Only now did she realize how much simpler, more predictable, and personally fulfilling her life had become. She had no desire to involve herself in the chaos surrounding a dark wizard determined to kill Potter, nor in Weasley's missing rat drama or other trivialities.

The moment she stopped assisting those two Gryffindors, she suddenly found herself with an abundance of free time. She channeled it into personal growth and extensive library research. The weather outside was bleak, with Dementors gliding ominously around the school grounds. Their presence displeased both students and teachers, but there was little anyone could do since the headmaster himself had approved their so-called "protection."

After class, Hermione and Daphne headed to one of the study rooms to explore an intriguing topic. They were joined by Luna Lovegood, a somewhat eccentric but kind-hearted second-year. Hermione didn't mind Luna's company, and Daphne seemed indifferent.

"Look," Luna said, gesturing toward the window. "It seems Death has come for the hippogriff."

Curious, Hermione and Daphne approached the window. Visibility was poor, but Hermione, ever prepared, pulled out a pair of magical binoculars.

Through the lenses, they saw several Ministry wizards in uniform, one of whom carried a massive axe on his back. Hagrid stood nearby, looking devastated but offering no resistance. Rumor had it he had done everything in his power to save the creature, but Lucius Malfoy's influence had sealed its fate. Public opinion was firmly against sparing the "dangerous" magical beast.

"What are Potter and Weasley doing there?" Hermione exclaimed, spotting the pair emerging from beneath an Invisibility Cloak. They crouched behind one of Hagrid's giant pumpkins, pulling strange objects from their bag.

"Oooh," Luna murmured, her tone mysterious. "Something interesting is about to happen."

Indeed, it was. Two Ministry wizards were attempting to restrain the hippogriff, Buckbeak, with magic. The creature struggled, but its efforts seemed futile. The executioner raised his axe, ready to strike—but before he could, Potter and Weasley sprang into action.

The boys hurled peculiar objects at the Ministry wizards. These exploded, releasing a greenish gas. More bombs followed, emitting loud bangs and flashes of light. The source of these devices was obvious—they had clearly been provided by someone.

At that moment, Buckbeak broke free. As a semi-intelligent creature, it wasn't about to forgive an attempt on its life. With razor-sharp claws, it tore the executioner in two. A powerful kick from its hind legs sent one Ministry wizard flying into Hagrid's house, where he was impaled on several protruding rods. The third wizard was killed instantly when the hippogriff's beak gouged a massive hole in his head. The creature then attempted to take flight.

Another Ministry wizard, however, cast a spell. A green beam of light shot from his wand, striking the hippogriff. Buckbeak collapsed to the ground like a lifeless sack, rolling slightly before coming to a halt. A silvery creature, likely a Patronus, appeared and sped toward Dumbledore's office.

The three girls lowered their binoculars, each looking pale and unsettled. Hermione now fully understood why her mentor had warned her to distance herself from Potter and Weasley—it was to shield her from situations like this.

Daphne seemed to arrive at a similar realization, even without the benefit of Hermione's mentor's advice. Luna, on the other hand, appeared less affected, though it was clear she hadn't anticipated such a grim scene either.

As if by silent agreement, they decided to return to their rooms to process what they had witnessed. Hermione shut herself in her bed and began to cry. It wasn't that she particularly cared about the hippogriff or the people involved, but the sheer horror of what she had seen deeply shook her. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Potter and Weasley disappearing down a corridor once again.

"Good grief," she muttered, her voice trembling.

Her resolve to stay far away from the pair solidified even further. Once she managed to calm down, she decided to take a small dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion and rest. The potion worked quickly, and she fell into a dreamless slumber. In her own room, Daphne did much the same.

The next morning, the school was abuzz with shocking news: Professor Lupin had been found dead during the night along the path between the Shrieking Shack and Hogwarts. Hermione felt a wave of nausea at the announcement. What were the chances that Potter and Weasley had been involved in this as well? Their absence from the breakfast table only deepened her suspicions.

"Look!" a Slytherin student exclaimed, pointing toward the corridor.

Everyone turned to see Hagrid being led away in heavy chains by a group of Aurors. Tears streamed down the half-giant's face as he was escorted out. Hermione knew he wasn't guilty. She had seen what had truly happened the day before. Hagrid was simply another victim of Potter and Weasley's reckless actions. Perhaps Professor Lupin was as well, along with the Ministry wizards and even the doomed hippogriff.

Potter and Weasley weren't just trouble—they were Harbingers of Destruction.

Still, her heart ached for Hagrid. She couldn't let this injustice stand, so she decided to contact her mentor. Perhaps he could intervene and do something to help.