Chapter 18 - The Invasion

Launched by the catapult that had appeared in the middle of the Wizards' Square, a sphere of energy sped rapidly toward Minister Wilma Dean, illuminating everything around it with an intense and threatening glow.

The air seemed to vibrate with the force of the attack, but Wilma did not hesitate. With a swift motion, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small red touchstone, glowing like an ember. Her eyes fixed on the incoming projectile, she hurled the stone into the air. In a precise gesture, she raised her wand and, with a firm and determined voice, exclaimed:

— Protego Maxima!

At that moment, the red stone shattered, amplifying the power of the spell cast by the minister. In a dazzling spectacle of colors, a dome of energy instantly rose around the Ministry.

The sphere of energy collided with the protective dome with devastating force, and the impact was so violent that a dark stain instantly appeared on the shield at the exact spot where it would have struck Minister Wilma Dean. The sound of the collision was deafening, shaking the ground and vibrating the air around as if space itself were shattering.

At the moment of impact, the magical barrier rippled violently, emitting a spectacle of multicolored sparks that exploded along its perimeter as a colossal shockwave swept across the square. The pressure was so intense that the nearest protesters were thrown back, their bodies flung through the air, colliding with the ground and surrounding structures.

The dark stain on the shield pulsed as if it were about to give way, while the entire surface of the dome vibrated with accumulated energy. The magical glow of the barrier intensified, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though the shield might not hold. However, the dome stabilized, dissipating the sphere's remaining energy in a luminous wave that blinded the crowd.

…

Seeing the catapult being reloaded, Rita Skeeter, in her animagus form of a fly, flew as fast as she could toward the Ministry to seek shelter from the chaos she knew was about to erupt. But just as Wilma Dean raised the protective barrier, Rita couldn't react in time. Flying too fast, she collided head-on with the newly-formed magical shield. The impact was strong, throwing her away, dazed and disoriented.

Before she could recover, the sphere of energy struck the dome with colossal force, creating a shockwave that swept through the square. Rita, with her fragile fly wings, was flung to the other side of the square. She hit a stone wall with a dull thud, and her animagus form instantly broke, returning her to her human form.

As she fell to the ground, Rita felt a sharp pain in her back and ribs. Breathing became difficult. Every breath felt heavy and painful, and she needed a few seconds to regain her composure.

Even so, the journalist within her wouldn't back down. "This will make for a great story," she thought, struggling to stand.

…

While chaos unfolded at the center of the protest, in London, Muggles carried on with their ordinary days. The streets were full of people coming and going, traffic flowed as usual, and the sky was heavy with clouds. But suddenly, something unexpected happened. A slight tremor ran through the ground, and people felt a strange tingling in their feet as if something were vibrating in the depths of the city.

Near the Palace of Westminster, tourists stopped taking pictures, looking around in confusion. The tingling seemed to creep up their legs, generating an uncomfortable and inexplicable sensation.

At Piccadilly Circus, the neon lights flickered briefly while the streetlights trembled subtly. People began glancing at one another, wondering what was happening.

In Hyde Park, birds suddenly took flight, as if sensing the same strange energy in the air. In the cafés and busy streets, some stopped walking, unsettled, trying to understand what had caused the unusual tingling, followed by a faint tremor that rippled through the asphalt beneath their feet.

…

Fleur smiled as she carefully stored the map in the drawer, locking it with the key still in the lock. But at that exact moment, a violent tremor shook the Ministry. The floor beneath her feet quaked as if an earthquake had arrived, and the lights above flickered several times. Objects on desks slid and fell, and posters on the walls came loose, fluttering through the air.

Fleur grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself, her heart racing. "What was that?" she thought, alarmed.

She knew there was no time to waste. She needed to find Lucius immediately. However, as agreed, he would come to meet her in the Aurors' office. She decided to wait, but her anxiety grew with each passing second. She tried to calm herself, breathing deeply and organizing her thoughts. But time was ticking, and that earthquake was not part of the plan. She began to fear that Lucius might be in danger.

…

Inside the Ministry, a deafening crash reverberated through the hallways, making the stone walls shake as if they were made of paper. In the interrogation room, the ground shook beneath the feet of the wizards, jostling tables and chairs. Lucius, Ron, and Bruna exchanged glances, alarm evident in their eyes.

In a synchronized movement, Ron and Nichols rose to their feet, wands in hand, their faces hardening with urgency. The air around them seemed to vibrate with an almost palpable tension, heavy with fear. For a brief moment, everyone in the room stood still, their senses sharpened, trying to process what had just happened.

The silence that followed the crash was suffocating, each second stretching like a rope about to snap.

Ron wasted no time. With a quick motion, he pulled a painting off the shelf, revealing a hidden button behind it. Pressing it, he turned to Lucius and, with a firm tone, said:

— Malfoy, I've just activated the room's defense system. From now on, this room can only be opened from the inside. You'll be completely safe here, said Ron. — We're going to help downstairs. Let's go, Bruna!

Ron and Bruna quickly exited through the room's only door, wands in hand, ready to face the chaos unfolding in the Ministry. The door closed with a firm click, sealing Lucius inside the protected room.

Lucius remained silent for a few moments, listening to their footsteps fading down the corridor. When the sound finally disappeared, a cunning smile curved his lips. He knew the Aurors believed they had kept him safe and confined, but Lucius had other plans.

He would meet Fleur, and using his extensive knowledge of the Ministry building, accumulated over decades as an advisor, he would ensure a safe passage away from the imminent chaos. Every corridor, every hidden passageway, every alternative exit was etched in his memory, and now, this information would become the key to escaping the turmoil.

…

In Wizards' Square, chaos reigned. The crowd, which had been violently thrown back by the force of the impact, screamed and ran in all directions. People throughout the square, fallen and injured, bore witness to the devastating impact of the attack.

Wilma Dean, standing tall and with her wand still raised, remained firm at the center of the confusion. Her eyes didn't leave the enormous catapult, which stood as a latent threat on the horizon, a reminder that some attackers were still there. Knowing the danger was far from over, Wilma scanned the square with keen vigilance, ready to neutralize any new attack.

Despite the brightly shining Protego surrounding the Ministry, protecting it from imminent destruction, the panic among the protesters was evident. Many succumbed to fear, their cries of terror and confusion echoing through the square as they ran haphazardly, trying to distance themselves from the explosion's epicenter. Some stumbled and fell, being lifted by companions or, worse, trampled in the rush.

Amidst the confusion, however, a group of masked individuals held their ground, partially concealing their faces with blue scarves. With precise and coordinated movements, they began advancing toward the Ministry's entrances. Wielding their wands with determination, they launched a barrage of powerful spells against the magical barrier. The spells collided with the shield's surface, creating ripples and cracks as multicolored beams of light sliced through the air.

…

After Zaino disappeared into the correspondence ducts, the Aurors were momentarily perplexed. A heavy silence hung in the atrium, broken only by the distant echoes of the turmoil outside. Some Aurors still stared at the point where the basilisk had vanished, trying to process what had just happened.

Suddenly, the floor beneath their feet trembled violently, and a deafening crash reverberated through the Ministry walls. Magical lamps swayed, and dust fell from the vaulted ceiling. The Aurors exchanged alarmed glances, aware that something very serious was happening.

Before they could react, the powerful voice of a veteran Auror, Alvin Arcor, echoed through the atrium:

— Forget that basilisk! The Minister of Magic needs help! Everyone to the street!

Without hesitation, the Aurors redirected their focus. The priority now was different: to protect the Minister and restore order. In a coordinated movement, they ran toward the exits, leaving the atrium empty and the remnants of the chase after Zaino behind.

As they approached the doors, the sound of battle outside grew louder. Screams, explosions, and the buzz of spells filled the air. The Aurors knew that time was of the essence.

Emerging into the square in front of the Ministry, they were met with a chaotic scene: frantic protesters, attackers launching relentless spells at the barrier, Aurors struggling to control the crowd, and, in the background, the imposing figure of Wilma Dean, holding her wand firmly while sustaining the protection separating everyone from the chaos.

The impact of the energy sphere against the magical shield still reverberated in the air, and the Aurors grasped the gravity of the situation. Without wasting more time, they joined their colleagues on the front lines, determined to defend the Ministry and its highest leader.

…

Alastor Moody, his magical eye spinning incessantly, observed everything with meticulous attention. He quickly noticed that these weren't ordinary protesters but a trained group with a well-laid plan to invade the Ministry.

— Minister, they're attacking the most vulnerable points of the barrier. There are too many of them. Eventually, they'll break through — warned Moody, his voice grave and urgent. He approached Wilma Dean, his eyes fixed on her, and added: — I urge you to leave immediately.

Wilma Dean, however, remained unmoving, her firm gaze sweeping over the tumultuous crowd. There was a glint of determination in her eyes, and she understood the signs of something much larger at play, a meticulously planned conspiracy. This was no time to retreat.

— What about the magnetic protection? Should we activate the Magnet Spell to bring down the invaders? — she asked, remaining unperturbed in the face of growing tension.

Moody nodded, his lips curling into a dry, almost ironic smile.

— I'm glad to see you understand that pats on the back don't solve critical moments, Minister.

He turned to the Aurors around him, his voice firm and commanding:

— Get the Minister out of here and reform the lines! Someone find Alvin and tell him to meet me so we can activate the Magnet Spell!

The Aurors nodded in agreement, ready to follow the instructions. However, before they could act, Wilma Dean, still maintaining part of her concentration on the shield, spoke:

— We don't need Alvin, Alastor, — she declared, determination in her voice. — I can activate the Magnet Spell with you.

…

Rita Skeeter was sitting on the cold, rough ground of the square, gasping and disoriented. The brutal impact against the stone wall had forced her out of her animagus form, and now every breath came with a sharp pain in her ribs. With a grimace, she touched her side, feeling the sensitivity and suspecting a possible fracture. "Great," she thought sarcastically. "As if this day couldn't get any better."

Around her, chaos reigned. Screams, ricocheting spells, and the sound of falling debris composed the chaotic soundtrack of the scene. But something caught her attention amidst the confusion. Through the smoke and panicked people, Rita spotted the group of masked wizards she had been following. They were carrying a new energy sphere, preparing the enormous catapult for another attack.

"So, they haven't given up," she muttered to herself, as a mix of fear and excitement coursed through her body. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her ribs, Rita stood up with difficulty, leaning against the wall. Her sharp eyes missed nothing: the faces partially covered by blue scarves, the determination in their movements, the precision with which they reloaded the catapult with an even larger energy sphere.

Rita's journalistic instincts kicked in. She knew she was witnessing something monumental. Her mind raced with possibilities. This could be the story that redefined her career, perhaps even earned her an award for investigative journalism—a true comeback to silence all those who had said her career was over. She was the only journalist present in this chaos and would do whatever it took to make the most of it.

…

Moody cast a sidelong glance at Wilma while keeping his focus on the shield's vulnerable points.

— I'll handle the Magnet Spell with Alvin, Minister. I'd prefer if you waited in safety — said Moody.

The minister gave a faint smile.

— Good thing you're not my superior, Moody.

Moody let out a short grunt, refraining from arguing. Debating with the minister at that moment was a waste of time. He gave her a serious look.

— Wilma, you love action; I know that. And I won't stop you if these are your orders. But if you fall, the entire wizarding world suffers. Your opponent is a madman, and your deputy is a weakling. You're far too valuable to expose yourself like this — said Moody, his voice grave and laden with concern.

Wilma narrowed her eyes momentarily, considering his words. After a brief pause, she took a deep breath and looked at Moody with firmness.

— I appreciate your concern, Alastor, truly. But if I cower now, there's no chance of being reelected. I need to show strength.

She gripped her wand tightly, her eyes fixed on the battlefield and the shield protecting them. Cracks spread rapidly across the energetic barrier. The irregular hum of the weakened barrier vibrated around them as they noticed a new, larger, and denser energy sphere flying from the catapult, slicing through the air. The impact was devastating. The shield, already fragile, exploded in a deafening wave of energy, echoing across the field like thunder. The force was so brutal that it flung the masked attackers away like ragdolls, their screams muffled by the blast.

This time, the shield was almost entirely destroyed. Only distorted fragments remained, flickering in the air, incapable of holding the barrier together. The cracks spread in all directions, and what was left of the barrier soon collapsed. Small sections still stood, but they were so damaged they no longer made a difference.

With most of the shield gone, the attackers, who had previously recoiled in shock, spotted the breaches and, like a wild swarm, rushed toward them, eyes wild, shouting frantically.

Adrenaline drove them forward, and soon, many were already crossing the last remnants of the defense. Chaos reigned, and Moody knew the situation was on the brink of total collapse.

— Head to the atrium now, Minister, and perform the spell with Alvin Arcor. I'll provide cover.

— Alone? Are you insane? — The minister stared at him, surprised.

Moody responded with his usual determination:

— Yes, alone. The rest must protect what truly matters.

Without further words, he turned, making it clear there was no room for discussion. He then roared with an authority that cut through the chaos around him:

— Anyone still out here, run to the atrium now! Protect the Minister and Arcor! They need time to cast the Magnet Spell! I'll destroy that damned catapult! — Moody shouted, his voice slicing through the surrounding chaos.

He began moving toward the catapult without hesitation and issued a final warning over his shoulder:

— And listen carefully: if you let even a scratch land on the Minister's clothing, all of you will go through recruit training again. You can take my word on that!

Moody quickly positioned himself between the group of Aurors escorting the Minister toward the atrium and the attackers pouring through the breaches in the barrier. His magical eye spun incessantly, alert to every movement on the battlefield.

Chaos reigned; spells flew through the air in all directions, but his mind remained sharp and focused. With a firm motion, he raised his wand, ready to provide the necessary cover.

The Aurors quickly surrounded the Minister, moving with military precision. Alongside them, the Minister's two personal bodyguards, wands in hand, stayed alert to any suspicious movement. The Minister's assistant, with a tense expression, followed closely behind, her eyes darting nervously as the group advanced toward the atrium.

— Let's go, stay together! — one of the Aurors shouted, not taking their eyes off the path ahead.

Moody watched everything attentively. He knew any slip could be fatal.

More attackers approached, advancing through the breaches in the defense. Moody quickly turned, casting containment spells, creating barriers, and blocking the enemies' advance. An explosive spell detonated directly in Moody's face, striking his left ear.

A ringing filled his hearing, but Moody, smiling, stood firm. Every Tuesday, he cast a disorientation spell on himself to get used to working under such conditions if necessary, and what the attackers thought would incapacitate him was just another typical Tuesday: a day for working with ringing ears and eating fried fish.

— Keep moving! — Moody shouted, casting a precise Expelliarmus that disarmed two enemies emerging from the side.

Enemy spells came from all directions as the group rushed toward the atrium. The tension in the air was palpable, but the Aurors stood firm, protecting the Minister with every spell they cast. Moody moved skillfully, casting cover spells, blocking attacks from the shadows, and creating magical barriers to prevent enemies from getting closer.

When the group finally reached the atrium entrance, Moody cast a final Protego Totalum. The magical barrier rose—not as potent as the grand dome the Minister had conjured but strong enough to buy them a few precious seconds. That extra protection would allow them to enter safely and position themselves in the atrium.

— Get inside, now! — Moody ordered, his voice firm and cutting through the surrounding chaos.

The Minister and her bodyguards disappeared into the atrium, followed by the assistant and the last Aurors guarding the rear.

With a quick glance to ensure they were safe, Moody turned abruptly without wasting time. His next target was clear: the damned catapult causing all the destruction. His face hardened as he advanced toward the structure, prepared to confront it alone.

The catapult was being prepared to launch another attack, and this time there was no shield to protect the Ministry's entrance, where the Minister and all her Aurors were positioned. Moody knew there was no chance of allowing that to happen.

His eyes fixed on the weapon of destruction, he began running, determined to intercept the strike at all costs.

— Now it's my turn, — he muttered, pulling another wand from inside his coat. Determination was evident in his voice as he charged toward the attack.

…

Dozens of masked attackers rushed into the atrium, wands in hand, casting spells at the Aurors. Explosions shook the hallways, and the sound of colliding spells echoed off the marble walls.

At the heart of the chaos, Minister Wilma Dean and Alvin Arcor, an experienced Auror, were racing against time to activate the Magnet Spell, the Ministry's last line of defense.

Arcor, with over 30 years of experience, knew how to remain calm in a crisis, but the weight of responsibility was heavier than usual. Positioned beside one of the pillars, Arcor observed the Minister across the atrium. Wilma Dean traced runes in the air with impressive precision, her focus unwavering.

Alvin, for his part, knew the movements by heart, but the pressure of being there, so close to the leader of the wizarding world in such a critical situation, made him slightly uneasy. He wasn't a novice but had never worked this closely with the Minister in such dire circumstances.

— Arcor, let's begin! — the Minister's voice rang out, firm and controlled, echoing through the surrounding chaos.

Alvin nodded, carefully adjusting his wand. The tension hung heavy in the air, but he focused on what needed to be done. As the Minister worked with a quiet confidence, her movements precise, Alvin concentrated on replicating the runes, drawing each one with meticulous accuracy.

…

As Ron and Bruna left the interrogation room, a crash shook the Ministry, causing dust to fall from the vaulted ceiling. The two exchanged worried glances.

— What was that? — Bruna asked, already gripping her wand tightly.

— I don't know, but it doesn't sound good — Ron replied, quickening his pace down the corridors.

When they reached the atrium, the scene was utter chaos. A crowd of attackers had broken through part of the security barriers and was advancing inside. Colored spells cut through the air, and the sound of screams and explosions echoed off the walls.

At the center of the turmoil, Alvin Arcor and Minister Wilma Dean were positioned in front of two imposing pillars. Separated by the vastness of the atrium, both wielded their wands, activating the Magnet Spell that connected the pillars.

Around them, a circle of Aurors formed a defensive barrier, repelling the attackers attempting to approach.

Ron paused for a moment, quickly analyzing the situation. He noticed that while Arcor and Wilma focused on the pillars, many Aurors were disorganized. Some seemed paralyzed by the confusion, while others were overwhelmed, desperately trying to contain the attackers advancing through the atrium doors.

The front line was dangerously weakened, and the disorder grew as more attackers infiltrated the building.

— Bruna, we need to reorganize the Aurors — he said firmly.

She nodded, awaiting his instructions.

— Not all of them are needed to protect the Minister and Arcor. Let's redistribute those who are unnecessary.

Ron advanced toward the defensive circle, catching the attention of some Aurors positioned farther away.

— You three! — he pointed to a nearby group. — Leave the barrier and come with me. We need to reinforce the main entrance to stop more people from getting in.

The Aurors hesitated for a moment, but upon recognizing Ron, they promptly obeyed.

— Bruna, take these two and cover the side door. We can't let them flank us.

— Got it! — she replied, already leading the Aurors to the indicated position.

Ron continued giving orders, directing the excess Aurors to strategic points at the Ministry's entrances. His voice carried authority, and the confidence emanating from him inspired the others to follow his instructions without question.

While organizing the defense, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Two individuals, their faces partially covered by blue scarves, were sneaking through the shadows, heading discreetly toward the staircase leading to the upper floors.

Ron frowned and shouted:

— Nichols! Lourd!

Bruna Nichols, who was nearby coordinating her team, immediately turned. Gabriel Lourd, another young Auror, also shifted his attention to Ron.

— What's wrong, Ron? — Bruna asked, alert.

— Two suspects are going up the stairs, over there! — he pointed, indicating the individuals already beginning their ascent. — We need to stop them before they reach the upper offices.

Bruna nodded firmly.

— Leave it to us!

Gabriel Lourd was already at her side, and together they set off in pursuit, moving quickly through the debris and dodging spells still flying across the atrium.

Ron turned his attention back to the remaining Aurors.

— Hold your positions! Don't let them advance another step!

He positioned himself near the main entrance alongside two other veteran Aurors. The attackers seemed to intensify their efforts, but now, with the defenses reorganized, the Aurors were managing to hold them back.

…

In the interrogation room, as soon as the Aurors disappeared down the corridor, Lucius Malfoy acted quickly. He rose, moving with the precision of someone who knew exactly what needed to be done.

The Aurors' office was on the same floor; he just had to follow the right corridors to reach Fleur. Lucius advanced with firm steps, alert to every detail around him. The rooms along the way were all empty—a reflection of the confusion in Wizards' Square that required all the Aurors' presence.

His body moved with its usual elegance, but his mind was on high alert, analyzing every corner and door he passed. The silence in the corridor was heavy, but he knew this calm would be brief.

Finally, rounding the last corner, Lucius spotted Fleur through the glass wall separating the Aurors' office from the corridor. As their eyes met, Fleur gave a subtle smile and nodded affirmatively, indicating she had completed her part of the mission.

Lucius maintained his composed expression, but the slight arch of his eyebrows conveyed his approval, a recognition of Fleur's success and the efficiency with which she had acted.

…

Meanwhile, Bruna Nichols and Gabriel Lourd ran through the upper corridors, chasing the two suspects.

— They're heading toward the Aurors' office! — Gabriel exclaimed, alarm evident in his voice.

Bruna felt a wave of urgency course through her. Unauthorized access to the Auror's office—or worse, the evidence room—could have disastrous consequences.

— We need to act fast — she said, her mind working rapidly. — Let's split up. You take the main stairs; I'll go through the emergency staircase. That way, we block both possible routes. They could be heading to the Aurors' office or the evidence room.

Gabriel nodded promptly, his gaze determined.

— Understood. See you at the top.

Without wasting time, the two split up, each running in opposite directions. Gabriel dashed up the main staircase, his footsteps echoing on the marble steps.

Bruna, meanwhile, slipped into the emergency staircase—a less-known and rarely used route, but one she knew like the back of her hand. The lighting was dim, but she advanced confidently, her senses sharp. The air was colder there, and the silence was broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing and her accelerated heartbeat.

…

The Aurors fought desperately to contain the situation, trying to maintain the Ministry's integrity. The pressure was overwhelming, and they knew that if control wasn't regained quickly, the entire building would be at the attackers' mercy.

In the midst of the chaos, Ron Weasley noticed something strange. Auror Nicolas Havana, who had been fighting alongside him until then, suddenly stopped defending himself. He slowly turned toward the Minister of Magic, his wand extended, ready to attack her from behind.

…

Fleur was there, waiting for Lucius. Lucius, for a brief moment, felt a familiar and comforting warmth in his chest when he saw her. However, that moment of relief was short-lived. Suddenly, Lucius's smile disappeared, replaced by an expression of alertness and concern. His muscles tensed, and he abruptly stopped.

In front of him, two wizards appeared out of nowhere, their faces concealed by tightly wrapped blue scarves, leaving only their eyes visible. There was something unsettling about their presence, an aura of imminent danger. Their wands were pointed directly at Lucius, and the wizards' eyes glinted with cold contempt, mixed with silent triumph. They didn't need to speak; the confrontation was about to begin, and Lucius knew that reaching Fleur would be more difficult than he had imagined.

— Today is our lucky day — muttered the first, his voice dripping with malice, carrying a metallic tone that seemed to reverberate in the air. — The traitor himself.

The second wizard stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with malice.

— Know this, Malfoy: after I kill you, I'll scalp you and send that ridiculous hair of yours as a keepsake to your son.

The venomous words echoed in the room, each syllable laden with the promise of imminent violence. Lucius glanced quickly over his shoulder, realizing there was no way to escape in time to avoid a treacherous spell to the back.

The man continued with disdain in his voice:

— From what I've heard, your son probably won't even flinch. He'll just throw your remains away like the trash you are.

Lucius, while maintaining his composure, felt the crushing reality of the situation: he was cornered, without his wand, defenseless, facing enemies eager for revenge.

The two men, their wands firmly pointed, began to intone:

— Avada…