The New Princess
Hogwarts Year 1 - Arc 2 - Part 7 - Chapter 30
A Mercurial Conclusion
Previously:
We need more power." Her eyes fell on the Silver Crystal for a moment. The temptation to unleash it again was great—but she quickly dismissed the thought. It could destroy her and everybody else around her if used recklessly. She had already used it once today, but any more could be dangerous in her current state. She simply wasn't yet ready to use it more than once, maybe twice a week. Using it again so soon after she had just used it to teleport her might cause her harm.
'No,' she decided firmly, pushing the temptation away. She would only use it if she had no other choice. 'Not yet.' There had to be another way.
Mercury's voice broke through her thoughts. "What if we hit it together?" she asked, her voice trembling but resolute. "Maybe we can overwhelm it."
Hearing this the Youma's eyes narrowed, its grin faltering. Sailor Moon's eyes snapped to the Youma and her heart leaped. Was it afraid?
"Together," Sailor Moon echoed, hope reigniting in her chest. "It might work."
The Youma, realizing their plan, roared in anger. Its body tensed, readying itself for another attack, but the brief flicker of fear in its eyes was enough for them. This more than anything told the two girls that they were on the right track.
Sailor Moon powered up her tiara once more. "On my mark," she said, her voice firm.
Mercury summoned the last of her strength, her hands glowing with power. "Let's end this."
And together, they launched their attacks—hoping, praying—that this time, it would be enough.
And now the continuation:
Energy erupted in a wave of magic as Sailor Moon and Sailor Mercury unleashed their combined attack.
"Moon Tiara Magic!" Sailor Moon cried, her tiara blazing with golden light as she hurled it forward. The radiant energy surged outward, slicing through the darkness and clinging to the battle-scarred walls.
"Mercury Aqua Mist!" Sailor Mercury's voice was steady but laced with a trace of uncertainty. It had been only an hour since her very first transformation, and the instincts guiding her felt very fragile—delicate threads, unsteady and untested, yet undeniably strong. How do I know how to do all of this? She wondered. The thought lingered, even as her hands moved with practiced precision, summoning a spiraling torrent of water. The cool, ethereal glow radiating from her fingers wrapped her in a fleeting calm amid the chaos.
The attacks collided midair, the golden tiara slicing through Mercury's shimmering waters. Light and frost merged into a dazzling force that surged toward the Youma, culminating in an explosion that lit the room like a miniature star. The shockwave reverberated, shaking the castle's foundations. Stones groaned in protest, and dust rained down from above.
A tortured howl pierced the aftermath, sending a chill racing down both guardians' spines. The Youma crumpled, its dark energy sputtering like dying embers. Sailor Moon's heart pounded, hope flickering to life like a fragile candle.
"Did we...?" she began, her voice trembling, daring to hope against reason.
Mercury fell to one knee, her strength drained. Sweat clung to her forehead, her hands quivering from the strain on her magic. "Was... was that it? Did we win?"
Sailor Moon didn't answer, dread pooling in her chest. "No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mercury's head snapped up, alarm sharpening her features. "No! What do you mean, no?"
"It's a level 5," Sailor Moon said, her voice grim with certainty. "They don't go down this easily. They never go down this easily, " she murmured more to herself than the other guardian beside her. Her fists clenched as the truth sank in. I always knew it wouldn't be this simple.
As if in cruel confirmation, the Youma's body convulsed violently. Energy flared up once more, black and malignant, surging outward in suffocating waves. Its dark aura swelled, oppressive and overwhelming, pressing down on their lungs.
Mercury swayed but forced herself upright, her legs trembling. "But we hit it with everything we had!" she exclaimed, disbelief cracking her voice.
"Not everything," Sailor Moon replied, her gaze flicking briefly to her chest, where the hidden power resided unused and waiting. "It's all we have in our current forms," she admitted, thinking of the power they were destined to wield someday in the future. Their super forms, once they were ready, would be powerful enough to take on such a beast. But that day was not today. Lifting her chin, she met the Youma's defiant gaze. "But it's nowhere near everything." Her resolve solidified, though her mind screamed for her to hesitate.
Her eyes shifted once more to her chest, to the hidden power waiting within. "We're not done… yet."
Yet deep down, a gnawing fear lingered—fear of unleashing its full power. Fear of what it would mean - should she fail.
Unaware of Moon's thoughts, the Youma's twisted laughter echoed, growing louder as its wounds knit together, dark energy weaving them closed. Rising again, it sneered at the Guardians, its malevolent glee palpable. Unseen, it channeled its power to seed doubt and despair in their hearts.
"Foolish mortals," it hissed, its voice a venomous whisper. "You think your light can touch me, girl? I am eternal!"
Mercury's legs buckled, and she fell to her knees. Her vision blurred, the weight of failure pressing down on her chest. In a voice barely audible, she whispered, "It's still not enough…" Despair threatened to consume her.
Sailor Moon clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The temptation to use the Silver Crystal burned stronger than ever. The Youma was too powerful, that much was now clear, but retreat wasn't an option. Ready or not, she had to end this.
It would be so easy... Her gaze shifted from her chest to Dumbledore, unconscious amidst the debris of what had once been one of Hogwarts' many moving staircases. The distant cries of students echoed from the still-intact portion of the castle near the Great Hall, where the remaining professors were guiding them to safety. The school could be rebuilt, but the loss of innocent lives would be irreversible. She bit her lip. No! Retreat had never been an option. This had to end here, right now!
"No!" Her voice rang out, fierce and resolute. She stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Mercury, shield the professors! "
Mercury looked up, alarmed by the sharp edge in Moon's tone. "What are you planning?" she whispered.
Sailor Moon's expression softened. "I'm going to do what I must," she said quietly. "I'm going to use the Silver Crystal."
Mercury's eyes widened in horror. "But Pluto said—"
"I KNOW!" Moon cried, her voice cracking. She paused, struggling to steady herself. "I know the risks... but we don't have a choice. We can't let this monster win."
Mercury hesitated, her mind racing. She wanted to argue, to beg Moon to reconsider, but the cries of the fleeing children made her decision for her. They couldn't fail—not now, not ever.
Reluctantly, she nodded, stumbling toward Dumbledore and McGonagall's unconscious bodies. Using what little magical power she had left she began summoning a protective barrier. "Be careful. I believe in you," she whispered.
Sailor Moon gave her a grateful smile before turning her attention back to the Youma, her expression hardening. "For the sake of everyone at Hogwarts… and the world… I will not let you win!" she declared, calling upon the Silver Crystal, its moonlit glow emerging from deep within her chest.
The effect was immediate. A surge of power enveloped the area. The Youma's eyes widened as it sensed the change. Instinctively, it staggered back, a flood of confusion and true undiluted fear taking hold. It knew it needed to attack—if it wanted to survive—but the power the girl was suddenly gathering was overwhelming. It hesitated, its instincts screaming that survival was impossible.
Already the walls of Hogwarts were beginning to vibrate as the inhabitants of portraits, those unable to flee to others, watched worried, petrified with fear. Soon they would crack, maybe even fall.
But then, suddenly, a red rose shot through the air, embedding itself in the ground between Sailor Moon and the creature.
"What?" Sailor Moon turned, her heart racing. She recognized it. Her gaze found the familiar figure stepping out from the shadows.
"Tuxedo Mask…" she whispered, a flicker of hope sparking amidst her doubt. He had helped her once before but could she trust him now? Could she afford not to? New hope surged within her as she looked at him. Maybe he had a plan?
Tuxedo Mask stepped forward, his cape billowing dramatically as he adjusted his hat. "Sailor Moon, you don't need to sacrifice yourself," he said, his voice calm yet commanding. "Not for a creature this weak."
"Weak?" Mercury exclaimed, incredulous. "That thing is anything but weak!"
Sailor Moon tightened her grip on the Silver Crystal's power within her. "Tuxedo Mask, I have no other choice! It keeps regenerating!"
He shook his head, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Why is it that you Guardians always act first and think later? There is always a way. The Silver Crystal's power isn't for destruction, Sailor Moon. It's meant for light, for creation—for healing. If you try to destroy this creature, you'll only make it stronger."
Sailor Moon blinked, a bead of sweat rolling down her face as she struggled to grasp his meaning. She paused, lowering her hand. As she relaxed her hold on the Silver Crystal, the glow dimmed. Instantly, the strain on her core lifted, and she exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. The power was still there, present, but now safe and far less consuming. "But… if I don't destroy it, what else can I do? No matter what we do, it keeps getting back up!"
Tuxedo Mask glanced at the Youma, which faltered, its predatory instincts clouded by hesitation. The aura of this new arrival confused it. It was unlike anything it had encountered before—familiar, yet foreign. The Youma instinctively held back, unsure of how to react.
"It feeds on your power and your fear, Sailor Moon," Tuxedo Mask's voice cut through the tension. "With every attack and every failure, you're only making it stronger. Harm it, and you'll pay the price. Instead, sever its connection to the dark magic sustaining it. Take away its strength. Give it what it fears most. Only then can it be defeated."
A beat of silence passed as both Guardians looked at him in confusion, but then Mercury's eyes lit up in realization. She gasped, facepalming in frustration. "Of course! Why didn't I see it? It's so obvious!"
Sailor Moon continued to look on confused. "What do you mean?"
Mercury's breath came quickly, her mind racing. "It feeds on dark magic! But I bet it can be weakened by light magic. Pure light...with no destructive intent. Healing magic! Please trust me. Just… HEAL IT!"
Sailor Moon gaped at Mercury, confusion clear on her face. "What? I don't—"
"Heal it... you're the only one who can," Mercury said urgently. "Trust him... Trust me!... It will work!"
The Youma, sensing their plan, roared in fury. The ground shook beneath them as it lurched toward them, claws outstretched, seeking to end this fight once and for all.
Tuxedo Mask stepped in its path, raising his cane defensively. "I'll deal with it… but you must hurry!" he said, adopting a steady stance. The Youma lunged, attacking relentlessly, but Tuxedo Mask deflected its blows with ease, his smirk betraying his confidence.
Mercury's voice rang out urgently. "Heal it!" she cried.
Sailor Moon hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, gathering every ounce of willpower, she held her hand out toward the Youma, focusing on the light within her, letting it rise from the depths of her soul.
The creature, sensing its doom, grew desperate. It powered up another attack, its claws glowing ominously. With a last desperate cry, it rushed forward.
"Damn it!" Mercury cursed in frustration. Without hesitation, she stumbled between Sailor Moon and the advancing Youma, bracing for the incoming assault.
However, just before the Youma could strike, Tuxedo Mask hurled another rose, catching the Youma off guard. The Youma faltered, its attack missing its mark and crashing into the wall, creating an explosion that buried a nearby classroom under a shower of debris.
As the shockwave hit, Mercury summoned her strength to cast a barrier. "Mercury Aqua Shield!" she cried, her voice strained yet resolute. A shimmering energy wall of mystical water sprang to life, forming an impenetrable barrier between them, the Youma, and the explosion.
Debris rained down on them, pummeling her shield. Gritting her teeth, Mercury grunted against the pain and exertion, falling to her knees as her shield flickered she yelled out in exertion.
"I can't hold on...for...much...longer," Mercury gasped as dizziness crept in and darkness began to surround and overtake her senses.
The Youma roared, its dark energy flaring as it charged again. Once more, it was interrupted by another red rose, this time piercing its back, causing it to screech in agony. Its form flickered, struggling to hold itself together.
"Now, Sailor Moon! Finish it while it's weakened! HEAL IT!" both Mercury and Tuxedo Mask shouted in unison.
With a nod, out of options, choosing to simply 'do it' and trust in the duo, Sailor Moon stepped forward. She felt stupid healing an enemy - felt she was wasting her time - but as she felt the energy surging within her as she prepared to heal the creature a sudden urge filled her—a yearning to make things right, to save rather than destroy. Her heart ached for the Youma, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about it.
At that moment, she had a vision—a lesson from a distant past. Perhaps. She could not be sure. "All is not always as it seems. You must understand what lies beneath the surface before you can heal. The darkness is but a shadow cast by despair. It's powerful, quick, and easy to use. But even at its greatest, it can never be as strong as the light. Feel the light, and let it flow through you. Only then can you save those who can't save themselves."
Watching intently, Tuxedo Mask narrowed his eyes as he noticed the Youma beginning to regenerate. It was now or never.
Sailor Moon nodded as understanding flowed into her. "This better work," she muttered, determination rising within her. "I have not successfully used Moon Healing Escalation before... but..."
She remembered her last attempt, how it had fizzled out before it could manifest. In the ancient times of the Silver Millennium, Serenity had wielded the Moon Sceptre to channel her magic—a tool that was now lost with the destruction of the old kingdom. She gritted her teeth in concentration. She hoped today would be different.
As she glanced at Mercury, she felt Tuxedo Mask's unwavering gaze on her. She saw the trust in Mercury's eyes. They believed in her. Mercury believed in her! She would not let her down! Clarity struck. Yes! This time she was sure... she could do it. "There's no time like the present!"
Taking a deep breath, Sailor Moon called upon her power. "Moon Prism Power!... HEAL!" she cried, her voice trembling at first, then steady as she raised her hands toward the Youma. Her heart swelled with love and compassion, the energies of her resolve pouring forth.
Her hands quivered, a flicker of doubt lingering, but confidence surged as a beam of pure, radiant light shot forward, enveloping the creature in its brilliance.
"NO!" the Youma roared, its once-taunting voice dissolving into a wretched shriek. Its twisted form distorted, writhing as the malevolent energy holding it together fractured. The dark shadows binding its essence dissipated, shattering like glass under the relentless light. As the glow spread, its pained expression softened into confusion, then melted into a fragile peace. Slowly, the Youma dissolved, revealing a small, trembling figure of a young girl in its wake, where the monster had once stood.
It was done. They had won! The Youma—once an indomitable, near-invincible force—was defeated. Its twisted form dissolved, leaving behind a small, trembling figure where the monster had stood.
A young girl.
"No!" Sailor Moon's heart nearly stopped. She stared in disbelief as the child, no older than nine, crumpled to her knees, tears streaking her hollow cheeks. Horror clawed at Sailor Moon's mind, realization crashing over her like a tidal wave.
"A child...?" she whispered, kneeling beside the girl. Her voice shook, the weight of what she'd almost done threatening to crush her. We were fighting her. I almost destroyed her. If I had used the crystal's full power...
The thought sent a shudder through her. Her stomach churned.
The girl's haunted eyes darted around the room, her breaths shallow and panicked. "Wh-where am I?" she rasped.
Before she could collapse, Sailor Moon caught her, pulling her into a protective embrace. "Shh. It's over. You're safe now," she murmured, stroking the child's hair even as her own tears welled.
The girl clung to her, sobbing uncontrollably. Through her tears, she stared up at Sailor Moon with wide, fearful eyes. "Are you an angel? Am I dead?"
Sailor Moon's breath hitched. "No," she said gently. "You're alive. I'm just someone who wants to help."
Mercury and Tuxedo Mask stood nearby, their expressions somber as the gravity of the moment settled over them.
"I didn't mean to hurt them," the girl hiccupped, her voice breaking. "Mommy... Daddy! They screamed so much, and I couldn't stop. I didn't want to do it!"
"I know," Sailor Moon said softly, her heart breaking as she fought to stay composed. "It wasn't your fault. You were controlled and manipulated into doing terrible things. But you're free now. It's over. It can't hurt you anymore. Do you hear me? You're free."
The child's sobs gradually subsided, exhaustion overtaking her small frame. "Promise?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Sailor Moon tightened her embrace. "I promise."
The girl's eyes fluttered shut as she finally allowed herself to rest, curling into the warmth of Sailor Moon's arms. Moments later, she was fast asleep.
Tuxedo Mask stepped forward, his tone soft but pragmatic. "She's been through hell. Let's get her to Madam Pomfrey."
Mercury frowned, studying the child. "We'll need to be cautious. The magic that changed her might linger. She could still be at risk."
"She's just lost everything—her identity, her loved ones, her past," Tuxedo Mask added quietly. "If she's a Muggle, an obliviate won't help and any remaining family—or an orphanage—might not understand or accept what she's been through."
Mercury nodded reluctantly. "She'll need someone who can protect her and help her heal."
Sailor Moon's expression hardened with resolve as she looked down at the sleeping girl. "If no one else can, I'll take her in myself. I'll make sure she's safe."
Tuxedo Mask's eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask. "That's not a decision to take lightly, Sailor Moon."
"I know," she said softly. "But I also know what it's like to lose everything. To have no one." Her voice wavered, but she steadied herself. "I won't let her go through that. I won't let her go through what I did."
Mercury's gaze softened with sympathy. "Sailor Moon... Arya... are you sure? It's a massive responsibility, and you're still just a child yours—"
"Woah!"
Before Sailor Moon could respond, Mercury staggered. Alarm flashed in her eyes.
"Mercury!" Sailor Moon cried, almost dropping the child in her arms.
Tuxedo Mask caught Mercury as she began to fall, his movements swift yet gentle. "She's just exhausted," he said calmly. "She pushed herself too hard. It's amazing she held on this long as it is"
Mercury gave a weak thumbs-up, a tired smile on her lips. "I'll be fine… just… need a... moment." Her transformation flickered and broke, revealing Hermione. The effort seemed to sap the last of her strength, and her eyes fluttered shut as she slumped into unconsciousness.
Sailor Moon's panic ebbed, replaced by relief. Her gaze shifted to the crumpled forms of Dumbledore and McGonagall amid the rubble. "And them? Will they—?"
"They'll recover," Tuxedo Mask assured her, his voice softening. "You did well, Sailor Moon. You saved them all. You..."
The sounds of approaching footsteps echoed through the ruins. "I have to go," Tuxedo Mask said already stepping back, shadows already beginning to cloak his figure. Sailor Moon's chest tightened with an unfamiliar urgency. "Tuxedo Mask, wait!" she called, the overwhelming need to stop him catching her off guard. "Thank you," she added, her voice trembling.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Aurors have arrived. Until we meet again," he said before vanishing into the darkness.
Sailor Moon stared after him, a hollow ache settling in her chest. It was as if a part of her was suddenly missing, and she didn't understand why. "Oh sure, leave before the cleanup starts. Typical!" she said a touch of frustration in her voice which slowly changed into warm fondness.
Cradling the sleeping child closer, she whispered, "You're safe now." It was unclear whether the words were meant for the girl—or for herself.
Her eyes swept over the destruction—the shattered walls, the collapsed staircases, the obliterated classrooms. In just an hour, they had turned Hogwarts into a battlefield. Yet, amid the devastation, they had won. They had saved a young soul from endless torment.
That, at least, made it all worthwhile.
Some time later.
Susan, still transformed as Sailor Venus, sped toward Hogwarts, her heart pounding. She had been left behind to deal with the remaining Youmai from the scouting mission with Aryanna—Sailor Moon. Moon had sensed trouble at the school and left suddenly. Now Susan could only hope her friend had managed to handle whatever disaster had unfolded.
As Hogwarts came into view, anxiety tightened her stomach. She could see teams of Aurors patrolling the grounds, wands drawn, searching for lingering threats. Even from a distance, she could see the battle's aftermath. One of the towers—close to Ravenclaw and leading toward the Great Hall—stood in partial ruins. Clear gaping holes marred the stone walls, pockmarking the once beautiful tower, and debris littered the grounds below, remnants of a fierce fight.
Before she could fully absorb the scene, an Auror spotted her and quickly cut off her path.
"YOU THERE! HALT!" the Auror commanded, raising his wand.
Susan frowned, noting the tension in his stance. Deciding not to escalate things, she slowed to a stop, raising her arms in a peaceful gesture. "I'm a friend! Don't curse! I'm here to help!"
"Stop where you a—ah…" The Auror froze mid-sentence, recognition dawning. He raised a mirror and spoke into it, his voice now respectful. "SIR! We've got another Guardian here—" he said glancing at her for confirmation. She nodded, and he continued, "Yes Sir! Orange skirt, complete with a tiara, it's her. I'm certain. Yes Sir! Understood! I'll send her right up."
The Auror's demeanor shifted, now full of awe and gratitude. "R-right this way, ma'am. They're expecting you."
Bemused by the sudden respect, Venus followed him. As they passed through the castle entrance, she spotted Filch near a door, his normally gruff face pale. Straightening his robes, he stepped forward to take control of her escort.
"Sailor Venus?" he asked, attempting to regain some authority, though the shakiness in his voice was unmistakable.
She nodded, noting the tremor in his hands.
"I'll take it from here," Filch said, dismissing the Auror. The Auror nodded gratefully, casting one last glance at Venus. "Thank you, ma'am. Without you and the others…" His voice cracked. "I might've lost my brother tonight."
The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, a lump forming in her throat. She managed a small smile. "Of course. Anytime."
Filch led her away, his usual gruffness tempered by a clear sense of unease. As they moved, Venus had to remind herself not to act submissive. Normally, being near Filch as a student meant trouble, but she was Sailor Venus now, not a first-year caught sneaking out after curfew. She took in the destruction around her—the crumbled walls, shattered floors, missing classroom walls, and the smell of sewage from broken pipes—all of it was overwhelming. The aftermath of the battle was everywhere. Broken tables and chairs lay scattered, and house elves scurried around, already trying to restore order.
Students lingered nearby, supervised by distraught professors and parents alike. Some sobbed into each other's arms, while others stood frozen in shock as anxious parents arrived to collect them. The weight of the chaos pressed down on Venus, filling her with a surge of responsibility. Could she protect them all? Was it even possible?
"What happened here?" she mumbled, though she already knew. "A Youma happened here," Filch grunted, not breaking his stride.
Venus nodded, her gut tightening. She had expected as much. Only a Youma—or something far worse—could have caused this level of devastation to an ancient fortress, like Hogwarts.
As they neared the Hospital Wing, Susan saw Professor Quirrell hurrying down the corridor. His face was pale, his eyes darting nervously. When he noticed her, his expression hardened into a glare.
"Another one..." he hissed under his breath, his tone dripping with disdain, barely audible to all but the enhanced ears of a Guardian.
Venus frowned, her instincts urging her to remain cautious. She didn't respond, instead pressing forward, determined to find Aryanna and Hermione.
With a final glance at the agitated Quirrell, she stepped into the Hospital Wing, bracing for whatever awaited her inside.
Hospital Wing: After the Battle (a few minutes ago)
The soft hum of healing magic filled the Hospital Wing as Madam Pomfrey worked diligently, her wand glowing with soothing energy. Aryanna, still in her Sailor Moon form, stood beside Hermione, who was now her 'civilian' self. In one of the beds, Dumbledore lay pale and frail, a wisp of his former self, with a potion in his trembling hands as Pomfrey gently urged him to drink. Two Aurors stood by the door, watching over the high-profile patients.
Dumbledore took a deep breath after finishing the potion, the familiar twinkle absent from his eyes, replaced by a weary seriousness. He gestured weakly to Madam Pomfrey. "Please, privacy charms."
Pomfrey hesitated, but then complied, casting a shimmering barrier around them. Dumbledore, too weakened by the battle, had been forbidden from using magic during his recovery—strict medi-witch orders.
Aryanna surveyed the room. Her gaze briefly met Hermione's, and they shared a look of understanding. They had survived, but just barely. The battle had taken a toll not only on their bodies but also on their hearts.
Dumbledore broke the silence. "Thank you! Both of you! You saved Hogwarts tonight. The students are safe because of your courage."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably under his praise. "We couldn't let anything happen to them," she said softly, her voice trembling with residual fear. She was very well aware of how close to death she had come.
Aryanna straightened her posture. "We did what we had to," she said, though her voice betrayed uncertainty. She glanced at Hermione before returning her attention to the headmaster.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Professor Quirrell slipped inside, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "I... I should have been there," he mumbled, barely meeting anyone's gaze. "I could have..." His words trailed off when his gaze landed on Sailor Moon, and his hands shook slightly.
Aryanna caught the subtle tremor, her instincts tingling as she studied him more closely.
Dumbledore sighed, gesturing for Pomfrey to lower the privacy wards. "Yes, Quirrell, what is it? Weren't you supposed to be with the students?"
From another bed, McGonagall piped up sharply, "Where were you during the battle?" Her voice dripped with scorn, recalling how he had fainted in the hall instead of aiding them.
Quirrell flinched, his stammering growing worse. "I... I was e...evacuating the students, M...M...Minerva. I...couldn't leave them."
McGonagall's sharp voice cut through the room once more. "You were meant to defend the castle, not faint in the Great Hall."
Quirrell flushed. "Of course. It's j...just...I was c..concerned about the s..students' safety. If I had known...I w..would have h..helped…"
McGonagall scoffed, "If ye'd known? If? How could ye no' have known? Ye were the one who alerted us in the first place!" Her Scottish brogue appeared with her frustration.
"Yes...to...to a t...troll!" Quirell began to defend himself. Before they could continue, Dumbledore raised a hand to silence her. "Enough! The Youma has been defeated. That is all that matters."
Quirrell's expression darkened at the reminder, "I... I came for calming d..draughts," he mumbled. Aryanna frowned. She was sure he was lying but didn't know how to prove it.
Pomfrey nodded, turning to fetch some more potions. Dumbledore looked at her, concern etching deeper lines on his forehead.
"How are the students doing?" he asked.
"N...nervous, afraid. S...some are c...crying. Quite a few want to g...go home," Quirrell stammered, his own unease evident.
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "Expected after such an ordeal."
Pomfrey returned, handing him the potions, and he hastily left. With a shake of his head and a sigh, Dumbledore watched Quirrell retreat. "I'll have to ask him to leave by the end of the year...It's clear he isn't suited for the job anymore. What a pity—he used to be such a bright mind. Maybe I'll offer him his Muggle Studies position back," he mused quietly.
Once the interruption passed, Dumbledore turned back to Aryanna and Hermione, but before he could speak they were interrupted once more as Sailor Venus walked into the room.
"Headmaster!" she exclaimed, "I came as fast as I could!"
Madam Pomfrey, hearing Venus' arrival, hurried over, her face lined with concern as she quickly checked for injuries. Satisfied there were none, she stepped back but remained close, her eyes flicking between the group. Dumbledore motioned toward her. "The privacy charms again please, if you would, Madam Pomfrey."
With a nod and a resigned sigh, she cast the spell again, restoring the magical barrier before retreating to assist the other professors. Now alone, Dumbledore turned his gaze back to the Guardians, now all three of them. "Once again, I must thank you all. The students' safety is owed to your bravery."
Aryanna, however, frowned. "We didn't win because of skill," she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. "It was luck, nothing more. Sheer dumb luck! Without Tuxedo Mask, I would've had no choice but to use the Crystal, and I'm not ready for that yet."
Hermione's brow furrowed as she watched Aryanna's darkening expression. "But we did win," she said gently, trying to reassure her friend and leader.
"We barely scraped by," Aryanna snapped. "Using the Silver Crystal could have destroyed the entire school. I'm not in control of it yet, and Setsuna warned me—overusing it might kill me."
Dumbledore's gaze softened. "You acted with the best intentions, Aryanna. That's all anyone could ask of you."
Aryanna shook her head and clenched her fists. "No, Headmaster. I'm too important! Until I've mastered the Crystal, I won't risk participating in any more missions." She looked up, determination in her eyes. "As of this moment, until I can fully control the Crystal, I'm restricting myself from all future missions." Her words hung in the air, leaving the room in stunned silence.
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief and a bit of fear. "But...You can't! We need you! Without you—"
"I'm a liability right now!" Aryanna interrupted, her voice trembling. "If something happens to me, we lose everything."
Dumbledore's confusion deepened. "Miss Moon—Aryanna," he began, his voice soft yet firm. "Running from this won't—"
"She's not running," Susan cut in, her voice sharp. "She's protecting us all from certain doom. As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. If we fail, we can be replaced, as horrible as that sounds. But Aryanna? She's irreplaceable. If she dies, the Silver Crystal is lost with her… and without it, we risk the return of Saturn." Her voice lowered to a fearful whisper.
Aryanna paled at the thought, her fear mirrored in Susan's tone. "And with Saturn… the end of the world. The Crystal must be protected at all costs. If we lose it, everything ends." Her words sent a chill through the room.
"Saturn?" Dumbledore asked, confused.
The Guardians looked at him grimly. "Yes, Sailor Saturn. Think of her as the bogeyman... woman... of the galaxy. The eternally unwanted guest. She only appears when the Crystal is lost or in danger of being acquired by the enemy. Enough power to destroy planets and wipe out all life in galaxies," Susan said with a shiver and a faraway, disturbed look on her face.
"Trust me... you don't want to meet her because if you do, it's usually already too late," Aryanna added grimly.
The room fell into a weighty silence as the gravity of Susan and Aryanna's words settled over them. Dumbledore seemed to pale even further and age before their eyes, the weight of a century of leadership bearing heavily on him. "I see… This changes everything."
Aryanna straightened, her resolve returning. "Which is why we need more Guardians. We need more help. It's imperative we find and create the remaining Guardians as soon as possible." She turned toward a nearby bed, where a girl lay sleeping beneath the covers. "Hannah will join us."
The group's earlier tension broke as they exclaimed in unison, "Hannah?"
Dumbledore's lips curved into a faint smile. Susan grinned, her excitement barely contained. Hermione's eyes lit up. "That's perfect! She's already our friend—and she's seen us... well, me transform earlier. It makes sense."
Aryanna nodded. "Exactly. But that's not all." Her voice grew firm again.
"What else?" Venus and Hermione asked, leaning forward in curiosity.
"Along with Hannah becoming Jupiter, if she agrees…"
"Oh, she will!" Venus chirped, almost giddily. "You know she will!"
"IF she agrees—no pressuring; the decision has to be her own," Aryanna said with a warning tone. "Then I believe it's also time to reactivate—or at least start the search for suitable candidates for the lower echelons—time to re-create the Scouts," Aryanna revealed.
"NO WAY!" Susan exclaimed, her eyes widening in excitement while Hermione and Dumbledore looked confused.
"Scouts?" Hermione asked, puzzled. Dumbledore, too, looked intrigued, his brow furrowing slightly in thought.
"Yes, Scouts," Aryanna glanced towards the sleeping form of the girl they had rescued earlier from the Youma's influence, before turning back to face Dumbledore. She squared her shoulders, determination shining in her eyes. "Each Guardian has a role, and in ancient times, some Guardians had Scouts to support them. The Youma are growing stronger, as we have seen tonight, so we must do the same. It's time to increase our numbers once more. I'll continue searching for Neptune, Mars, and Uranus. But we will also need to start searching for Scouts and possibly for Warriors as well to bolster our ranks. I want all of us to keep our eyes open for potential Scouts. It will take time as I'm not strong enough to create too many yet and not everybody is suitable to become one, not to forget not all but only some Guardians can have scouts in the first place, but I'm certain we can manage."
Dumbledore's face grew hesitant. "Scouts... children. Aryanna, are we truly considering creating child soldiers?" His voice trembled slightly, the conflict etched deep in his wise, weathered eyes. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, I know. But... are you sure only children can become Guardians... and now Scouts? What are these Warriors? Can't we use adults? What about—"
"Headmaster!" Aryanna interjected, raising her hand to convey understanding. Her gaze was steady yet sympathetic as she shook her head. "Setsuna herself was just a twelve-year-old child when she first became Sailor Pluto. The transformation only works on those who are young; something about their bodies and cores needing to adapt and grow alongside their powers. It's the only way."
"And what of their innocence, Aryanna? What burden must they carry... must you carry before it's all over? Do we dare put them in harm's way? You're only a child yourself," he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"Headmaster... Albus," Aryanna said gently, reaching over to grab his hand to comfort the old man. "I would never suggest this if I had any other choice, and I'm very conscious of the fact that I too am... just a child," she admitted, her voice quieter, as if speaking the words made the weight she carried feel heavier. "But the Youma won't wait for us to grow stronger. After tonight, it's clear they're growing stronger—and if we are to survive, so must we."
She sighed, her voice softening. "How about this: I won't force anybody to fight if they don't want to. But I have a feeling they will. If anybody wants to become a Scout or a Warrior, I won't stop them. Children have as much of a right to defend themselves as adults. And the Youma won't care whether they're children or fully grown adults. At least this way, they'll be able to protect themselves," she added kindly.
Dumbledore's shoulders sagged under the weight of her explanation. A tear slipped down his weathered cheek, the helplessness evident in his posture. He rose slowly, his piercing gaze searching Aryanna's face for certainty. "Are you absolutely certain?"
Aryanna hesitated, her heart heavy. After a long, painful pause, she nodded.
Dumbledore studied her expression for a moment longer, then finally sighed, his figure seeming to deflate like a candle flickering in the wind. "I understand... Desperate times call for desperate remedies. Innocentia semper moritur primo." He whispered the last part almost to himself, his voice heavy with sorrow. "Innocence always dies first."
"So be it," he said, collapsing back into his bed, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. The air around them grew thick with the weight of their shared burden.
The grand marble floor of the Ministry of Magic echoed under the hurried steps of Cornelius Fudge, freshly released from a humiliating stint in Muggle custody. His rumpled and disheveled robes billowed awkwardly as he marched towards his office, his face twisted with indignation. Frustration clung to him, heavy and inescapable.
"Muggles... arresting me? The gall! Unbelievable!" he muttered, his scowl deepening. Oblivious to the uneasy glances from Ministry workers, Fudge fumed. "A week in a filthy cell! Surrounded by their kind. No respect for authority. What will my supporters think? I'll never live this down!"
As he entered the Ministry's inner atrium, the usual bustling energy felt decidedly off. Wizards and witches huddled in tense clusters while others rushed to and fro, their movements erratic and hurried. Owls swooped overhead, dropping frantic messages that barely made it into waiting hands. The air buzzed with hurried whispers and the rustle of frantic movement, a physical hum of unease. Fudge's scowl deepened as his gaze darted around the room.
"What in Merlin's name is going on?" he growled to himself. "The place is falling apart. I'm gone for a week, and this is what I return to? Disgraceful. No leadership, no order. Must I handle everything myself?"
A passing wizard shot him a furtive glance, only to look away quickly. Fudge waved dismissively, irritation mounting with every step. Whatever crisis had gripped the Ministry could wait until he was back in control.
Just as he reached the corridor leading to his office, his senior secretary came barreling toward him, her face pale and frantic. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to keep pace.
"Minister! Wait—please!" she called, her voice trembling.
Fudge waved her off without breaking stride. "Yes, yes, I'm aware the Ministry's gone mad in my absence. I'll sort it out shortly. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
"Minister!" she interrupted, her voice rising in desperation. "There's been an attack—"
Before she could finish, another sharp, authoritative voice cut through the tension. "Cornelius, stop dodging and listen."
Fudge's steps faltered. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her stern expression and folded arms made it clear this was no ordinary crisis.
"What's the emergency this time, Madam Bones?" he snapped, irritation thick in his tone.
The secretary shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the powerful duo and several reporters in the distance whose curious eyes had locked onto the scene. Her voice quivered, but she pressed on. "Minister, it's Hogwarts. There's been an attack."
The words hit Fudge like a Bludger. He froze, his face blanching as his mind raced—not to the students or the school, but to the inevitable scandal. What would the Prophet say? What would his supporters think?
"Hogwarts? An attack? How? Why wasn't I informed sooner?"
"We—we tried, Minister," the secretary stammered, only to be interrupted by Madam Bones.
"Perhaps because you were otherwise... indisposed," she said coldly, her eyebrow arching.
Fudge flushed a deep red, his mouth opening to retort, but no words came. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air as he struggled to compose himself.
The secretary, emboldened by Madam Bones's presence, pressed on. "The wards were breached, Minister. A Youma attacked. Students were injured, and the damage is extensive."
Before Fudge could process her words, the door to his office swung open. Inside, waiting with grim expressions, were the Head Auror and a growing line of reporters with quills poised.
For a fleeting moment, Fudge's face betrayed panic. But years of political maneuvering kicked in. He straightened his rumpled robes, forced a tight smile, and strode into the room.
"Right then," he announced, his voice regaining its usual pompous authority. "Time to show why I'm the Minister."
As Fudge stepped into the room, the scratch of quills on parchment ceased abruptly, replaced by a heavy silence. Every eye turned toward him, their scrutiny a tangible weight. He forced a practiced smile, but his chest tightened. He had no idea what had truly happened, and the realization sent panic skittering through his mind.
'Keep calm. Appear in control,' he thought, straightening his robes. 'They can't know how little I know.'
Almost immediately, a sharp-eyed woman in a plum-colored cloak leaned forward, quill poised like a weapon. "Minister, can you confirm if the Dark Mark was involved? Is it true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is making a comeback—"
"Rumors," Fudge snapped, his voice sharper than intended. He softened it, forcing authority into his tone. "Fake, baseless rumors. The Ministry will issue a statement when the facts are clear. Wild conjecture helps no one."
"Minister, an attack on Hogwarts with children in danger—surely the public deserves answers?" another reporter pressed. "Are these Youma a precursor to You-Know-Who's return?"
Fudge's smile faltered, his irritation bubbling to the surface. "Enough!" he barked, his patience fraying. "The Ministry is handling the situation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to."
Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply, gesturing to Amelia Bones and the Head Auror. Together, they retreated to the sanctuary of his inner office, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Once inside, with the door closed with a firm thud, Fudge allowed himself to exhale deeply, letting his polished demeanor slip for a moment. He turned toward the Head Auror, a grizzled wizard with a furrowed brow, who stepped forward with a grim expression.
"Minister," the Auror began curtly, "here's the preliminary report. We don't have all the details yet, but it appears a Youma breached the wards around Hogwarts..."
"Not just breached...they were completely annihilated. Hogwarts is currently without wards. It's unprecedented!" Amelia interjected.
"Thankfully, Dumbledore's forces, along with... others, managed to repel it. Chaos erupted during the battle. Several students were injured, and a few went missing," the Head Auror continued as if he had not been interrupted by his superior.
Fudge's stomach churned. "The missing were found," Amelia interjected again, her tone brisk but tinged with relief. "Thankfully, no lives were lost—this time." Her last words carried a heavy weight.
For a moment, Fudge felt the knot in his chest loosen. But his relief was short-lived as his eyes scanned the report. "One Youma?" he muttered. "One creature caused all this? Hogwarts, of all places—Dumbledore's precious fortress—nearly fell? And these... 'others'... who are they?" He looked up sharply.
The Auror hesitated, glancing toward the door as if ensuring they wouldn't be overheard. "Reports suggest the involvement of... the Muggle superheroes known as The Sailor Guardians. Their intervention was pivotal. Without them, Hogwarts might have been lost."
"Oh, don't sugar-coat it. Not might have's, no ifs, buts, or maybe's. Without them Hogwarts would have fallen," Amelia added angrily, clearly frustrated at how helpless her Aurors would have been during the battle.
Fudge froze. The words hung in the air like a death knell. He could already envision the next day's headlines: Ministry Fails to Protect Hogwarts, Muggles Save the Day.
Thank Merlin it wasn't: Ministry Fails to Protect Hogwarts. All hands lost! The thought alone sent shivers down his spine and made him want to break out in a cold sweat.
His grip on the desk tightened, his knuckles whitening. "The Sailor Guardians?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "Muggles? At Hogwarts?"
"Yes, Sir!" the Auror replied.
"They're not just Muggles," Amelia corrected, her tone measured. "They wield powerful magic, powers unlike anything we've seen before. Their presence saved countless lives."
For a moment, Fudge stood frozen. He felt his carefully constructed world tilting. His career, his reputation—everything was balanced on a knife's edge. One false move and his carefully crafted house of cards would fall. Slamming his hand on the desk, he knocked over a stack of parchment. "This is a disaster!" he hissed, pacing furiously. "A single Youma and Hogwarts was defenseless? Dumbledore and his professors, utterly useless? And now I'm to believe that Muggles are the only reason we didn't lose the school altogether?"
Amelia and the Auror exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. The silence was damning all by itself.
Fudge's pacing slowed as his gaze fell back to the report. His thoughts churned, weighing the implications. The Sailor Guardians were a double-edged sword, but it seemed a necessary evil. Their actions would undoubtedly stir public admiration, but they also undermined his authority. If the public came to rely on them, where would that leave the Ministry? Where would that leave him? And that was disregarding the part that they were muggles. Although, that part didn't make any sense...they did have magic...right?
Fudge's jaw tightened. Indecision flickered across his face. One thing, however, was clear: no matter how much he hated the idea, he needed them. Muggles or not, without them, they were defenseless! Admitting that pained him more than he wanted to admit.
The weight of the responsibility pressed down on him, the pressure to maintain control consuming him. He had to do something. In a world of chaos, he had to maintain a façade of authority, of strength—even if the ground beneath him crumbled.
Sitting down in his chair, he glared at the report.
The tension in the room tightened, thick as fog. He would not falter. He could not afford to. He had to do something. Be seen to do something. Fudge's mind raced as he contemplated the implications of his current situation. It was a precarious position—treading the thin line between maintaining his power and acknowledging the emerging threats that could topple him.
Slowly, his eyes roamed over the report for a third time. Try and he might, he kept returning to the same conclusion: the Guardians were the only ones capable of defeating the Youma. He hated having to admit it, but he knew it to be true.
'Wait!'
It was as if he was struck by lightning, the pieces fell into place. Fudge stopped mid-step, his expression shifting from frustration to cold calculation. His lips curled into a deliberate smirk, ambition flickering in his eyes.
"This isn't a disaster. It doesn't have to be," he murmured, almost to himself. "This is an opportunity. I can use this!"
Amelia frowned. "An opportunity?"
Fudge turned to her, his voice brimming with newfound confidence. "Yes. If these Sailor Guardians are so indispensable, then they must be brought under the Ministry's jurisdiction. Controlled. Managed. We'll show the public that we have everything under control—that their safety is our doing, not some rogue group's heroics."
His smirk widened as he sat down, steepling his fingers. "We'll make them work for us... whether they want to or not."
'Yes, this is good,' he thought. 'I can use them to show the public that we are doing something to combat the Youma.'
He frowned, 'but some of my...supporters will not be happy if I actively support Muggles,' he thought, his mind racing—thinking primarily of some of his larger financial backers like the Malfoys. 'How can I possibly twist this so that I don't lose their support? They despise Muggles,' he wondered, his eyes narrowing in thought, biting his lip in furious concentration.
'Then again, what good are Malfoy's donations if I can't spend them because I'm dead...or worse, no longer Minister.'
Suddenly his eyes widened and he looked up. "We will turn this to our advantage," he declared.
"Sir?" the Auror asked, confused.
"I'll handle this," he announced, his voice now steady but strained. "We'll draft a statement and ensure the public remains calm. This crisis will be behind us in no time."
The Auror raised an eyebrow while Amelia waited, wondering what the minister was planning this time.
Fudge's resolve hardened. "We're the Ministry," he asserted, taking a deep breath. "We'll control the narrative." 'This is merely a setback. I refuse to let this new enemy destroy everything I have worked for. If this means stepping on a few toes, so be it.' Even if I have to work with...Muggles. As long as I remain the Minister, it won't matter. "Luckily nobody was killed...this time. But that could change. I cannot let that happen."
"These Guardians. Tell me... what exactly do we know about them?" he asked, looking at the duo expectantly.
The Auror looked surprised but answered. "Well sir, not much. Other than that, they are responsible for thwarting multiple attacks from the Youma, like the one in Diagon Alley. They are obviously magical; they have just saved Hogwarts from almost certain destruction, saving hundreds of lives. They have been actively doing so in the Muggle world for years. They only appeared in the magical world a few months ago...although, I have been told that they have been regularly seen in the Muggle world and they seem to be the only ones actually able to fight the Youma."
"Basically vigilant super Aurors who fight to protect the Muggles," he added with a shrug.
Fudge stared at him for a few seconds. "I see... well, no matter. If they're getting involved, we will leverage that."
"Leverage?" Amelia, who had been listening with interest, repeated incredulously, finally breaking her silence. "Wait, you're not seriously considering—" she added, her eyes wide.
But Fudge was no longer listening. Already he was altering, taking back the narrative, crafting his strategy to suit his needs. 'Yes, he could use them, turn this around. He had to.' He thought. It was a risk, some of his supporters would not be happy, but it was necessary...this time. He would burn that bridge if it came.
'Yes, this is good... this might work. No, it will work. It has to! I will make it work.' He thought furiously. 'My career depends on it!'
"Cornelius?" Amelia asked loudly, a worried look appearing on her face, mirrored by the Auror. She did not like the scheming look on the Minister's face.
Fudge snapped out of his thoughts, his resolve hardening further, his choice made. "This is our moment. The public craves heroes. So let's give them heroes. If we position ourselves wisely," 'if I position myself wisely,' he thought, "Dumbledore, the Guardians—they'll all be our shields against whatever storm is brewing. We need to act decisively." 'They will be my puppets,' he thought.
Fudge's eyes sparkled with a mix of desperation and ambition. "I will be the Minister who saved Hogwarts. No, I'll be the wizard who saved the Magical world." 'I'll be the next Merlin. The one who stood against the darkness. This will be my legacy! If this works out, the people will love me. I'll be untouchable, even to Malfoy. I won't even need him.' he thought.
The Head Auror glanced at Amelia, doubt and a touch of fear flashing across his face. He didn't like where this was going.
Nodding to himself Fudge straightened, smoothing his robes. "Now more than ever we need to reassure the public that everything is under control. Hogwarts will be protected by Ministry forces. I'll handle the press, and... in light of the circumstances, I am putting Hogwarts and the rest of the British Magical world under martial law." 'It will also give me more control. More immediate control,' he thought with a smirk.
Hearing this, Amelia looked up, alarmed. "Minister," she began to say when Fudge added, "And I'm putting it, Hogwarts...the magical world...all of it, under the jurisdiction of the Guardians...under Ministry oversight, of course." 'My oversight,' he thought. He could not have them run around unchecked; that would not do.
"What?" She paused, shocked, completely blindsided by the Minister's last response. She had not expected that. 'What is he thinking? Has he gone mad?' she wondered.
"You were right about one thing," Fudge said, looking at the Auror. "They seem to be the only ones able to combat the Youma. I can't refute that, as much as I'd like to. As such, I can think of nobody better than them to protect us in this difficult time," he said before mumbling, "As much as I hate to admit it, we are stuck with them now."
Amelia's and the Auror's mouths were wide open in disbelief. This was madness!
"Minister... you do realize that the Guardians are... well... Muggles... right?" the Head Auror asked incredulously. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Amelia, meanwhile, simply stared at him, her mouth open in silent shock.
Fudge paused, a look of distaste appearing on his face as he realized his gaffe, but the damage was done. For a second, he panicked, but then his face brightened, and he shrugged. For good or ill, he had to do this.
"They clearly have magic, so they can't be Muggles. You said so yourself. Besides, nobody without magic would ever be able to defeat a Youma," he finally said. "Anyone who argues gets sacked," he added, earning glares from the duo. 'Or they disappear,' he added to himself mentally. 'First thing tomorrow, I need to take over the Daily Prophet. After that, I will control what people see and hear.'
"Wait!... Minister, you cannot possibly expect—" Amelia's voice cracked with disbelief as she suddenly realized another important fact, her eyes narrowing as if trying to fathom the scope of his madness. "Does this mean you're putting them in control over the magical world's security...you want to deputize them? Muggles?"
'Deputize them? Why... Yes! That's a great idea! A marvelous idea, Amelia. Absolutely splendid. That's exactly what we'll do," he said enthusiastically, only paying attention to part of her outcry that he wanted to hear. "We'll rally behind the Guardians, make them honorary Aurors,... Guardians of the people. Reinforce Hogwarts, promote the seminar...give it complete Ministry backing..."
"But I..." Amelia began to say, but Fudge was no longer listening. "I didn't mean..." she continued weakly.
The Auror exchanged another glance with Amelia, unease settling in his stomach. He didn't speak, but the tight line of his jaw said enough. This was madness! Complete and utter madness!
Fudge, now completely in his own world, continued to plan. "Those who can't attend can listen to it over the wireless. I'll have the Prophet make daily special articles about it. I'll even make the Ministry facilities available. We'll show the public that we can combat this new threat," he continued. 'Hm... this will even give me an excellent excuse for why I was away in the Muggle world for so long. I was gaining the Guardians' support. If they succeed, great! I'll go down as the minister who created the force that saved us all. If they fail, I'll blame it all on them,' he thought, ingraining his plan into his mind, a smile appearing on his face. 'In the meantime, I'll command the Unspeakables to find an alternative way to harm these...Youma. Either way, I'll appear as if I'm doing something. Win-win all around! Nothing can go wrong!'
Plans made, he looked up, a new fire in his eyes. "Let the reporters know I'm ready to make a statement... I'll take care of the rest."
Amelia and the Auror exchanged shocked glances that slowly turned into looks of horror as they realized he was serious. They were really doing this. It was really happening.
"Minister, you can't be serious," Amelia tried again, her voice rising.
"The public craves heroes. We'll give them heroes. Dumbledore, the Guardians—they'll be our shields. We'll rally behind them... for now," Fudge continued unabated.
The Auror shifted uncomfortably. "But Minister... the Guardians are Muggles," he tried again, weakly, desperately, trying to remind him, but to no avail.
The words hung in the air, chilling and deliberate. Amelia's lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing. The Auror shifted uncomfortably, his unease palpable.
Amelia and her auror could only look at each other in despair and nod in reluctant acceptance. What other choice did they have? He was the Minister of Magic. "At least if this goes wrong, he'll soon be out of office," the Auror whispered to Amelia, looking for the silver lining in what he was sure was a huge mistake in the making.
"And we with him," Amelia whispered back with a sigh.
"Should we resign now, or later?" the Auror whispered back to her, looking to her for guidance. He got a stern glare in response.
However, as she watched Fudge, she couldn't help but begin to wonder. 'Maybe a vote of no confidence was in order.' Maybe the old guard could help. But who would want to risk the fall and whom should she nominate to take over? She had to ponder this!
As they left, Fudge sat behind his desk, fingers tapping rhythmically. This was it. His moment of greatness. The big one. The one he had been waiting for. Fudge leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes gleaming with the certainty of his genius. This disaster would be his triumph. After all, if politics was a game, no one played it better than Cornelius Fudge.
At least he thought so.
And that, he thought smugly, was all that mattered.
But as he gazed at the paperwork scattered across his desk, a nagging feeling crept up on him—a flicker of doubt he quickly dismissed.