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The only descriptions of spatial magic like this they had ever seen were buried in the Ministry's most classified archives. Records from decades ago , Dumbledore's battle with an extraordinarily dangerous Obscurial. And even then, Dumbledore had already been a world-famous wizard, a man well into middle age.
Hermione was how old, exactly?
A third-year student, and she had invented spatial magic this terrifying on her own?
This wasn't genius anymore. This was a monster.
Someone swallowed hard, the thought creeping in unbidden.
In a few more years... wouldn't she become a female Dumbledore?
Snape surveyed the Ministry of Magic , now barely distinguishable from rubble , and his face went ashen. "Stop! Hermione! Stop this instant!"
Hermione didn't even glance at him. The bombardment continued.
Snape had no choice. He stopped where he was and did not advance.
He and Hermione had never gotten along. But he knew the difference between his own side and the enemy. He wasn't about to turn against his own student to help a pack of Ministry fools.
Besides, Snape knew perfectly well that even if he intervened, he might not actually be able to stop her.
The girl was genuinely, absurdly strong.
He considered that for a moment, then stepped quietly to the side. Out of sight, out of mind.
Fudge had slid to the floor at some point. He sat in a heap, staring at the apocalyptic scene unfolding in front of him, and slowly , very slowly , came back to himself.
Only now did he understand what Snape's earlier words had actually meant.
Snape hadn't come here to keep Hermione safe.
He'd come to keep the Ministry safe from Hermione.
At what felt distinctly like the end of his life, Fudge abandoned every shred of ministerial dignity. He scrambled across the floor on hands and knees toward Snape. "Professor Snape! Make Miss Granger stop! She's going to tear the whole Ministry down!"
Snape turned a cold, unhurried gaze on him.
He reached up and brushed a speck of nonexistent dust from his robes. "Minister Fudge," he said, in a tone of perfect calm, "I'm afraid my abilities are limited."
"For certain individuals who are determined to court death, I am genuinely powerless to help."
He paused.
"As for how this fight started — I'd suggest asking Her Highness Umbridge."
At that moment, a new voice cut through the chaos. "Witch Lady, please — lower your wand for a moment and hear me out."
Everyone looked.
Ethan Hunt walked forward through the smoke and ruin at an even, unhurried pace.
The corner of Hermione's mouth curved. A glint of amusement settled in her eyes. "Mr. Hunt, is it? Getting me to stop isn't impossible."
She paused.
"Depends on how many tape recorders you've got."
Tom Cruise: ??
The next instant, Hermione tapped her wand. A serpent of living fire roared to life and hurled itself at him.
His eyes sharpened. His wand swept in a wide arc, and a massive sphere of water surged into being.
"Water Prison!"
The water wall crashed against the fire serpent with a violent hiss, and steam billowed outward in great rolling clouds.
Hermione gave a soft laugh. She flicked her wand again.
The fire serpent split. One became two, two became four , and all four versions closed in from every direction at once.
Hunt's expression flickered. He was already moving, body twisting and weaving through the converging fire with fast, decisive footwork.
"Blasting Curse!"
He caught a gap and fired. The spell hit with a thunderous boom, and the serpent exploded into scattered, blazing fragments.
The flames regrouped instantly. They pulled themselves back together, reformed, and charged again.
The Aurors watching had gone completely silent.
None of them had expected this. This newcomer, Ethan Hunt, was genuinely powerful. Under Hermione's Fiendfyre, an entire group of them had failed to last even a few seconds. Hunt was holding his own, one-on-one, and while he was clearly outclassed by Hermione, he was running circles around every other Auror in the building.
Fudge stared at him with something like hope kindling in his eyes. A private resolution formed: if they survived today, this young man was getting a promotion.
Time stretched on. Gradually, inevitably, the scales tipped.
Hunt's movements grew heavier. His defensive spells thinned. Then he dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
He lifted his head and looked at Hermione. "The Witch Lady's reputation is well-earned. Hunt... is no match for you."
That was the last thread of hope. Watching Hunt go down, the Ministry personnel felt despair settle over them like a physical weight.
Was the Ministry of Magic truly going to be destroyed today? Slaughtered by Hermione , by the Witch?
Then Lockhart stood up.
He smoothed his collar. He walked through the raging flames and the warped, buckled floor as though strolling through a garden, unhurried, completely at ease, and stopped in front of Hermione.
"Hermione." His tone was warm and gentle. "I think you've made your point, don't you?"
He tilted his head slightly. A hint of earnestness entered his voice. "For my sake — how about we call it here?"
"I swear on the name of Gilderoy Lockhart: if someone broke the rules and forced you into this, I will personally see that justice is done."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted , just briefly, just pointedly , toward Umbridge, who was collapsed on the floor with all the color drained out of her face.
The room seemed to exhale.
Yeah. How had the fight started in the first place?
Every pair of eyes in the room swung toward Umbridge.
She felt the weight of them like a physical crawl across her scalp. Snape had pulled her back from the edge moments ago, but she was still trembling, still barely holding herself together , and now she found herself looking at Hermione, and what she felt was nothing but pure, cold fear.
She forced her face into a smile that looked worse than weeping. "It , it wasn't me. It was her. Granger attacked first, out of nowhere..."
Every person in the room was inwardly sneering.
Do you think we're stupid?
Everything was fine when you walked in. You go into that room alone, and suddenly the Witch goes berserk. And you expect anyone to believe you had nothing to do with it?
Lockhart's expression didn't change, but there was a cold flicker behind his eyes. He turned back to Hermione, his voice easy and open. "Hermione, what actually happened? Can you walk me through it?"
Hermione looked at Umbridge. Just one glance , flat, unhurried. "That pink toad tried to torture me into admitting to so-called 'rumors.' So I fought back."
Umbridge lurched forward. "I did not! I only asked her to write down her account of events , I never said anything about torture!"
Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "Whether you did or didn't," he said calmly, "isn't really for you to decide."
He looked at Hermione. "Hermione, would you mind pulling the magic back? I'd like to ask those two Aurors what they saw."
Hermione nodded and gave her wand a single, light flick.
The fire serpents coiling above the Ministry vanished. All of them, all at once, gone.
Left behind: wreckage in every direction, and the thick, acrid stench of smoke and scorched stone hanging heavy in the air.
The two Aurors who had been pinned down under the Fiendfyre finally came free. They doubled over, gasping, sucking in air in long desperate pulls. When they looked at Hermione, their eyes were wide with undisguised terror.
Lockhart walked over to them. He hadn't even opened his mouth before one of them blurted it out.
"Director Lockhart , it was Umbridge. She was going to use a Torture Quill to force Miss Granger to sign a confession!"
The second Auror rushed to add: "Miss Gri , the Witch Lady saw through it. Umbridge lost her temper and tried to bind the Witch Lady with magical ropes!"
"That's when the Witch Lady fought back!"
They tumbled over each other's words, pouring out every detail of what had happened, fast and complete and terrified of being even a second too slow.
The truth settled over the room like a verdict.
Every eye turned to Umbridge.
➤ Next: The Ministry of Magic Needs a Talent Like You!
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