A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Traces of a major battle lingered on the outskirts of Hogsmeade village, and Voldemort took a moment to reflect.

Although he had escaped the last encounter, having faced off against two of the world's top wizards, his threat level skyrocketed in the eyes of magical departments worldwide.

With the headmaster of the American Ilvermorny School as a warning, no one dared to underestimate this evil force entrenched in England. The decisive battle from half a century ago was repeatedly mentioned in the newspapers, and many openly referred to him as the "Second Dark Lord."

At this moment, Voldemort strolled the streets of Hogsmeade, seeking his target.

He sought a place, not the clingy Lover's Tea House or the owl-post office piled with bird droppings and noise. He spotted the Three Broomsticks from afar, weighing his options, then caught sight of a deep alley.

Distant memories stirred, and with a tinge of melancholy, he entered, stopping at the entrance of a small tavern.

Everything here seemed unchanged—the tattered wooden sign, the rusty frame swaying in the wind. Rough calls for drinks floated through the grimy bulging windows.

"Hey!"

Voldemort pushed the door open and entered the Hog's Head Inn, bringing in the chilly February night air. The scene before him felt familiar: several secretive patrons in veils and hoods, as if it were the latest trend.

With a cursory glance, he deduced at least three tables were engaged in illegal transactions.

The barman was serving a glass of blue-flamed drink to a hooded figure when suddenly, Aberforth continued wiping an empty glass, casually lifting his head. His motion froze abruptly.

The sound of the shattering glass drew the attention of other patrons. They glanced at Aberforth then shifted their wary eyes to Voldemort.

"Hiss!"

A dreadful gasp. The temperature in the dirty, dimly lit room seemed to plummet to freezing point.

"M-Mystery man!" a wizard near the fireplace exclaimed.

Covered in blood-soaked bandages, an attire that wouldn't earn a welcome at the Three Broomsticks nearby, yet this man swaggered into the Hog's Head Inn. That's why this small pub could continue to thrive.

The wizard stood up flustered, inadvertently knocking over the table in front of him, producing his wand—not to attack, but to apparate away.

In a flash of green light, he fell straight, his wide-eyed stare revealing his unease before death.

Voldemort lazily gestured with his wand. "I intend to entertain a guest, so, I hope you all cooperate."

For a moment, the air in the bar seemed to solidify.

Sporting black circles around his eyes, resembling a vampire, the thin wizard shrilled, "He wants to kill everyone!" Voldemort's gaze shifted slowly, a smirk forming on his lips. He raised his wand, and the peculiar patrons of the Hog's Head Inn fell like wheat stalks—

Resistance commenced, slaughter ensued.

Some attempted apparition, but shadows from the darkness entangled their necks, choking them to death. Desperate screams and spells cut through the feeble light trapped within this dim bar; no one could escape.

In less than a minute, only three remained.

Aberforth summoned a guardian Patronus, intending to relay Voldemort's arrival. The corporeal goat guardian passed through the wall, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Post the carnage, Voldemort calmed down, staring intently at the face resembling Dumbledore.

If it were merely a resemblance, he wouldn't have cared, would have killed on a whim. But Aberforth wasn't just strong; he surpassed the average wizard. His resistance posed some trouble for Voldemort—insignificant, yet enough for him to reconsider.

For Voldemort, fixated on bloodline power, the immense strength and Dumbledore's resemblance caused him to associate Aberforth with Dumbledore. He stared at Aberforth's dirtied glasses, the fury burning in his bright blue eyes, and the strands of metallic gray hair and beard, the more he looked, the more the resemblance grew.

Decades ago, the failed job application surged to his mind:

He was ambitious, seeking to spread his influence throughout the magical world, choosing the Defense Against the Dark Arts position as his stepping stone. But his plans were cut short before they even began. Dumbledore heartlessly rejected him, even pointing out his minion's presence at the Hog's Head Inn, a fact that embarrassed him.

He recalled Dumbledore admitting to having a good relationship with the local pub's bartender...

"Ah, I see now." Voldemort chuckled, a sinister expression on his face. Waving his arms twice, two more wizards fell, leaving only Aberforth.

Aberforth's expression turned grim; he knew there was no escape. There had been hope earlier, but his attempt to challenge Voldemort was a mistake. He wasn't a match. Now, with only him left, attempting to apparate away in front of Voldemort was as futile as climbing the skies.

"Who are you to Dumbledore?" Voldemort asked softly.

"Phew!" Aberforth spat blood into the ground, mingling with the flowing blood. He raised his wand.

The battle ended swiftly.

Though all evidence suggested Aberforth had resisted fiercely, and half the wall of the Hog's Head Inn lay in ruins, Voldemort effortlessly emerged victorious. With a leisurely wave of his wand, snake-like ropes shot out, entangling Aberforth firmly.

He was left hanging from the crumbling ceiling.

Voldemort was thoroughly satisfied. He strolled up to Aberforth, watching him struggle, casually summoning a bottle of wine and a glass from the bar counter. However, both the bottle and the glass were too dirty for his liking, and he disdainfully discarded them. In a near-whisper, he asked, "Can you talk now? What's your connection to Dumbledore? Relative, or... a brother?"

"You... vile... trash..." Aberforth uttered a few scattered words through his bleeding mouth, sounding anything but pleasant.

"You need to learn to respect the powerful, was no one there to teach you? Or are you illiterate?" Voldemort retorted, waving his hand. The snakelike ropes tightened around Aberforth's neck, as Voldemort calmly said, "Excruciating pain—"

A stifled scream echoed.

"Hope you last until Dumbledore comes to save you."

Compared to the tragedy in the Hog's Head Inn, the battle at Diagon Alley's Swordkeep was like a blazing sword, grabbing everyone's attention. The sharp blade rose straight, swirling dark smoke. In the darkness, a dozen black-robed wizards continued to fan the flames. Pieces of the building fell from the Swordkeep, leaving burning craters on the ground.

The strike team and Death Eaters stationed at Diagon Alley engaged in fierce combat.

"Damn it, they're using Fiendfyre! Do they want to destroy this place completely?" a strike team member hid behind Ollivander's window, suddenly extending their arm to cast a few curses, knocking down an approaching enemy.

But Holt's heart sank. He didn't know what was happening at the Ministry, but it had been five minutes since they sent out the distress signal, and no backup had arrived. Currently, there were only two emergency teams in Diagon Alley—enough for regular patrols but seemed insufficient against the sudden attack.

Shortly after, they had to abandon guarding the public fireplace

. The curse delivered by an ancient dark wizard almost had the portkey captured.

In a short time, Death Eaters poured into Diagon Alley like an incoming tide.

A wizard's battle took place in the sky.

Two aerial wizards in the night sky dueled vigorously, their spells weaving intricate patterns of red, blue, and green lights, clashing and dispersing among the stars. The Death Eater sneered, launching a streak of silver light. The strike team member countered with a flaming bolt, resulting in a massive explosion that painted the heavens crimson.

However, the alliance's members knew it was only the beginning.

The night was long, filled with the cries of the wounded and the clash of spells—a battle for survival.

As the dark smoke obscured the night, hints of dawn began to creep through the horizon. The remnants of the two forces on the streets were slowly withdrawing, leaving behind destruction and chaos.

The attack had succeeded—the Ministry fell.

Deep within the ruins of the Swordkeep, beneath the piles of debris, a lifeless hand stretched out. Blood oozed from the rubble, staining the ash-covered cobblestone.

A feeble pulse emanated from the hand—a glimmer of hope amidst the tragedy.

Felix noticed the person and quickly found the corresponding name on the Death Eaters' list, "Lestrange..." from the Lestrange family. "Were you waiting for me?" He approached the battlefield, fingers slicing through the air, thick black smoke billowing out.

"It's Felix Harp! He's here, let's go!"

Someone yelled. They began to apparate, but it was too late. Felix couldn't find Bellatrix Lestrange among them, a slight disappointment, though it wasn't part of the plan. Voldemort hadn't been cornered yet, and there wasn't a stronger temptation to separate him from his only remaining Horcrux.

He waved his hand, the hall enveloped in silver light, and in the blink of an eye, they seemed transported to an entirely unfamiliar place. Before they could react, golden flames inundated this unique space.

They were reduced to ashes in their mental space.

In reality, the black wizards went vacant-eyed, bodies rigid, eyes involuntarily rolling upward. Penelope took the chance to stun two before realizing the anomaly.

"What's this?"

Clementine pointed at Felix. Penelope suddenly understood, her face showing surprise. She stared at the black wizards who had just snapped out of their special state. "Quick—" one of them shouted, "run." Before the word was complete, their bodies stiffened again, as if an invisible hammer had struck them hard on the back of their heads.

Others in the fortress stopped, the black wizards staggered a few steps and fell in unison.

Felix found 'Lestrange', crouched down, and opened his eyes. Their gaze locked, 'Lestrange's' eyes mysteriously turned silver-gray. After a moment, Felix stood up.

He waved his wand, fierce fires burning both inside and outside the fortress converged towards him. The wand's tip seemed to hide a black hole, possessing an infinite pull. The fierce fires, in various animal shapes, perched on the buildings, distorted and torn apart, finally gathered into a small sphere.

Felix gently plucked it, holding it in his hand as if grasping a slightly warm glass ball.

"Felix." Lupin approached. "These people—"

"Lock them up first; the Ministry doesn't have the time to send people right now. What's the situation here, any casualties?" Felix asked in a low voice.

"No casualties," Lupin replied, gasping, looking at the people lying far away. He smiled involuntarily. "The attack happened after work hours. Most people had already left. I gathered the remaining ones, used puppet guardians to help non-combatants leave through the fireplace. It took a bit of time. The ones who volunteered to stay and defend the company followed the puppet guardians to the hall and coincidentally encountered these people."

"Frankly, the enemy's strength..." Lupin frowned. "It's not quite what I expected. It seems like an impromptu gathering, only a few skilled. We could have been more aggressive, but I didn't do that. Penelope and them are not warriors."

"You're right," Felix nodded. "Voldemort's power isn't enough to simultaneously confront Hogwarts, Future World, and the Ministry. I skimmed through their memories; these people consist of a few Death Eaters and black wizards coerced into causing as much chaos as possible. The Ministry's situation is likely similar."

"If that's the case, casualties will be minimized," Lupin analyzed. "What about the school?"

"Well, when I arrived, everything was calm. Now, it's hard to say..."

"Quick, go back! I can manage here. I assure you, when you return, everything will be back to normal," Lupin said hurriedly.

Felix chuckled lightly, took a step, and the scene in front of him rapidly changed—

Hogwarts. Disguised as students, Frank and Alice held a live map, focusing on the name 'Avery.' Suddenly, a chaotic sound of footsteps came from the revolving staircase. They glanced at each other and looked at the extra names of students on the map.

After getting their brooms, these students scattered to various school entrances. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fred, George, and some others rushed to the castle gate, surprised to find it locked with Felch guarding it.

"On Deputy Headmistress McGonagall's orders, no students are to step out of the castle," Felch said sternly.

"Oh, come on," Hermione said. "We want to help and can help. The professors are just behind the door, right? Mr. Felch, we can't let them fight alone against Inferi, Dementors, werewolves, vampires, or whatever else..."

"He won't budge," Fred said in frustration. "Might as well give him a—" but Felch reconsidered and actually stepped aside.

"Thank you, Mr. Felch," Hermione said gratefully, pointing her wand, silently opening the door, the professors' incantations faintly audible. "They should be on the stone steps, yes, that's it!"

They walked out through the oak gates. Felch grabbed Mafalda, her expression bewildered, not understanding why she was here, like Luna beside her. "You can't go! You're too young..." Felch exclaimed, staring at Mafalda, hesitating. "You, you're a new student? What's your name?"

Mafalda turned to Luna, pointing a finger. "I don't know, ask her!"

"What's going on?" Ron hurriedly walked over. He had just sat on his broom when the unexpected occurred, and seeing Mafalda, he took a sharp breath. "What are you doing here?"

Felch and Mafalda looked at Luna. Ron turned stiffly, praying he wouldn't hear an absurd answer. Luna cheerfully said, "Didn't I greet you guys earlier? I was there—"

"You found Mafalda behind that door?" Ron gasped, remembering what had happened earlier when Luna tried to open a door.

"Yes, I saw her walking in with Umbridge, and only she walked out, locking it from the outside. I found it odd, knocked, but no response from inside. Later found out it wasn't Umbridge at all..." Luna spread her hands.

"You fool, Luna, obviously Umbridge used Polyjuice!" Ron shouted at her.

"Don't you yell at her!" Mafalda exclaimed.

"Don't make a mess!" Ron shouted back.

He roughly handed Mafalda to Felch, as if passing off a piece of junk, "Um... excuse me, uh, please watch over her, don't let her run off."

"Ron!" someone called from afar.

"Oh, darn it, I have to go support Harry," Ron said, jogging to the platform outside, joining the twins and Neville on their brooms.

At this moment, another voice came from behind—

"Wait!" Alice ran breathlessly. "You—shouldn't—go out—it's too dangerous—"

"When will this end? Who's this now—" Fred grumbled, looking ready to punch someone. Hermione, after seeing Alice's face, tugged at his sleeve, almost pulling him off the broom. "Ouch! Hermione, what are you doing?" "She's Neville's mum..." Hermione whispered, Fred stunned.

"Does

Neville know?" Fred asked in a hushed voice, George trying to eavesdrop, being pushed back by him. Hermione shook her head.

Alice Longbottom stared at Neville. "You're still young—"

"Not that young anymore," Neville said, anxiously looking into the distance. It had been seven to eight minutes since Harry left. He said stiffly, "You can choose to stay in the castle; I choose to support Harry. It's normal."

"No, what I mean is, they'll be fine. You just need to stay safe in the castle. The adults will handle everything. Children—" Alice urgently said, pulling Neville's hand, "Think about your parents!"

"Sorry," Neville said, "They'll be proud of me." He looked deeply at Alice, gave a strong push with his feet, and flew into the sky.

Beside him, Fred raised a thumbs-up. He, George, and Ron flew towards Hagrid's hut.

At that moment, another voice rang out—

"I said wait!" Alice ran over, panting, "You—shouldn't—go outside—it's too dangerous—"

Will Harry, Ron, and Hermione reach the others in time? The unfolding events within Hogwarts and the surrounding turmoil promise an intense and uncertain future for the characters involved in the ongoing confrontation against dark forces.

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