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"Hey, Malfoy."
Hermione looked him up and down.
"You've never been able to stand Harry. So why save him?"
Malfoy glanced at Harry, still unconscious on the ground, and let out a short, dismissive sound. "I didn't do it for him. He testified for me and cleared my name of a murder charge. I'm repaying the debt. That's all. Draco Malfoy doesn't owe anyone anything."
The students around them went quiet with surprise.
Nobody had expected this , arrogant, insufferable Malfoy saying something like that. Just like that, everyone's opinion of him shifted a little.
What Malfoy himself hadn't noticed was that there was another reason entirely.
Because of Hermione, Harry had become someone he could almost tolerate.
BANG. BANG. BANG. Muffled detonations rolled in from every direction. Patronuses of every shape and size came sweeping back through the air, thick black smoke coiling around them. Inside the churning darkness, the broken forms of Dementors could be faintly seen , struggling, fragmenting, dissolving.
The sight of it was genuinely spectacular.
Hermione gave a satisfied nod, flicked her wand, and called the Zoo Army home.
Madam Pomfrey arrived at a near-sprint, a few hospital wing staff members trailing behind her. Her eyes landed immediately on Harry and Malfoy lying on the ground, and she let out a sharp cry.
"Quickly, quickly — get them to the hospital wing!"
She directed her staff as they carefully lifted both boys onto stretchers.
"What about us! We need checking too!"
Ron, Neville, and Seamus limped into view, all three of them speaking at the same time.
Madam Pomfrey turned and stared.
All three had bruised, swollen faces. And they were covered , absolutely laden , in tools. Wrenches. Pliers. Hammers. A complete assortment.
"What on earth happened to you?"
Ron, Neville, and Seamus looked at each other. Then, in perfect unison: "Don't ask."
Some things were best left to divine justice.
...
The crowd dispersed. Dumbledore asked Snape and Hermione to come to his office.
The three of them arrived, and the smile slid from Dumbledore's face , replaced by something Hermione rarely saw on him. Genuine seriousness.
"I will be reporting this to the Ministry of Magic," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Dementors cannot be permitted to enter the school again."
Hermione watched him and knew , he was actually angry this time. The old man wore that warm, grandfatherly expression so reliably that seeing it gone felt like a warning sign. Whatever the Dementors had done today had crossed a real line for him.
She shook her head. "Don't bother."
"Let them keep sending them. I'll kill every single one they send. I want to see exactly how many Dementors the Ministry has left to spare."
"Once they're all gone and Azkaban runs out of guards, let's see how they manage their prisoners then."
Because of them, she'd lost the match. Unforgivable.
Her tone was perfectly light. The murderous intent underneath it made Snape glance at her sideways.
His mouth twitched once. He didn't doubt for a single moment that she meant every word.
Dumbledore was quiet briefly, then said, "Actually, beyond the Dementor matter, I brought you here for another reason."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"The Ministry of Magic may send someone to speak with you in the next few days. They want to ask about your earlier prophecy."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's Voldemort coming back. What exactly is there to ask about?"
"I made a prophecy. It's not as though if I hadn't said anything, the whole thing would've just... not happened."
Dumbledore sighed. "The Ministry doesn't see it that way. Fudge's priority right now is stability — above everything else. Anything that threatens his re-election, he will find a way to remove."
Hermione made a dismissive sound. "By that logic, the first person he should be removing is you."
Dumbledore and Snape both stopped.
They exchanged a look, and in each other's eyes found the same quiet resignation.
Neither of them wanted to admit it. But she wasn't wrong.
Dumbledore's standing in the wizarding world had no equal. Even Lockhart, currently at the height of his fame, was nothing but a footnote beside him. In Fudge's eyes, the man who was "more qualified to be Minister than he was" probably irritated him far more than Voldemort ever had.
Hermione gave a short, derisive laugh. "Fudge. Is he actually thick? If Voldemort really does come back, does he seriously think he'll still have a job?"
"The rebels are at the gates and he's still worrying about his throne. Shall we just go ahead and give him a crown — the Last Sovereign of Magic?"
Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Many people are exactly like that. They would rather live inside the comfortable lies they've built for themselves than face what's real , even when they know perfectly well what the truth is."
Hermione rolled her eyes and spread her hands wide. "What do you want me to say, then?"
"I could just tell them I was making it all up. That I'm actually a transmigrator from another world, currently inhabiting the body of Hermione Granger. That this entire world was invented by some author, and I know what's going to happen because I watched it in a film."
"How does that sound?"
Dumbledore: ...
Snape: ...
This girl can really spin nonsense, both of them thought privately. And somehow she made it all sound completely plausible.
That story wouldn't land her in Azkaban, at least. But a stay in St. Mungo's Spell Damage ward would be all but guaranteed.
Dumbledore pressed on. "You can say whatever you like when the time comes. I'm not asking you to censor yourself."
"But I do hope you'll show some restraint. Don't let things get to a complete breaking point."
"The Ministry of Magic is flawed , I won't deny that. But it's still the institution holding wizarding society together. Having it, even imperfect, is better than having nothing."
"If the Aurors were wiped out, the magical world would descend into chaos long before Voldemort ever had a chance to stage a return. The Dark wizards alone would give us more than enough grief."
"And there are genuinely good people inside the Ministry. Arthur Weasley is one of many. We can't condemn everyone for the failures of a few."
Hermione was momentarily struck speechless.
The way Dumbledore said it, she sounded like some kind of natural disaster waiting to happen.
Was her temper really that bad?
She turned the question over in her head, privately unconvinced.
Snape, watching her, wore exactly the same expression.
You have no idea what you're actually like, do you? Over a Golden Snitch , a Snitch , you went so far off the deep end you deployed an entire Patronus army.
Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly. "As a Hogwarts student, the school has an obligation to see to your safety. So for this Ministry visit, I'd like Professor Snape to accompany you and ensure nothing untoward occurs."
A chaperone, Hermione thought. That's why Snape was here.
She glanced at him. The barely-concealed look of resignation on his face said everything. He hadn't exactly volunteered for this.
...
They left the Headmaster's office and walked together down the corridor, side by side.
Hermione stopped.
She turned to look at Snape, dropping her voice to something quiet and sly. "Professor. Does Dumbledore have some kind of leverage over you?"
Snape's body went very still.
His face darkened like a storm gathering. He pressed his lips together and said nothing for a long, pointed moment.
Then, through gritted teeth, one sentence.
"Don't ask."
➤ Next: The Ministry of Magic Arrives
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