The Aurors behind him snapped out of their daze and began chiming in loudly.

"Right! None of us agree to this!"

They all started talking over each other.

"That's right! Department Head Lockhart defies tyrannical authority and cleanses the Ministry's corrupt ways. He is truly our role model — the very conscience of the Ministry of Magic!"

Another Auror's eyes darted toward Hermione.

"Your Ladyship the Witch possesses boundless magical power! You slew the Dark Lord and brought peace and tranquility to the Wizarding World!"

"You are beautiful and kind, devoted to righteousness. You are truly the light of the Wizarding World, calling you the Witch of Light would not be an exaggeration in the slightest!"

A third Auror seized the opening and bowed toward Dumbledore.

"Headmaster Dumbledore presides over Hogwarts, directing from the center and holding the Dark Lord at bay for years so he had no chance to devastate the Wizarding World. You are truly the pillar holding up our world!"

"With the three of you here, the Wizarding World's future will surely flourish and reach new heights of glory!"

The torrent of flattery left Hermione completely stunned.

Who knew the Wizarding World had its own Jasper Sitwell?

As expected of career bureaucrats. Their sycophancy was a genuine art form.

She had somehow become the "Witch of Light."

Absolutely ridiculous.

She couldn't even do the title justice without firing off some kind of ultimate radiant spell.

Seeing the seemingly satisfied look on Hermione's face, the Aurors quietly breathed out, wiping cold sweat from their hearts.

At the same time, they were cursing Cornelius Fudge absolutely raw in their heads.

Idiot. What a complete and utter idiot.

Dumbledore was good-natured, so sure, play your guilt trips on him. But the Witch? You thought you could pick a fight with the Witch?

Courting death without even checking your target. Truly insane.

Thankfully, they'd been quick on their feet. Lockhart had stepped up and handed them a graceful way out, and the fact that he'd once been the Witch's professor gave him that layer of rapport on top of it. Together, that was what had pulled them off Fudge's sinking ship.

Because given the terrifying power the Witch had just displayed, if she had wiped out all hundred of them in the Great Hall today, not a single soul in the Wizarding World would have dared cry injustice on their behalf.

Once they got back, they had to repay Department Head Lockhart properly. Serve him well. Show real loyalty.

Actually, Fudge was finished. Lockhart might very well be the next Minister for Magic.

Seeing the moment was right, Lockhart put away his remorseful expression. His face went solemn. He turned and waved a hand at the Aurors behind him.

"By my command — arrest Fudge and Dolores Umbridge!"

"Yes, sir!"

As if someone had lit a fire under them, the Aurors surged forward, each one terrified that being a beat slow would cost them their chance to prove loyalty.

They gave the two no time to react at all. Several spells struck home at once.

Two thick Magical Ropes materialized out of thin air and bound Fudge and Umbridge tight.

"Unhand me! You filthy, lowly Aurors! Let me go!"

Umbridge shrieked like a pig being slaughtered. Her pudgy body thrashed wildly on the floor, face twisted with venom.

"Shut it."

An Auror stepped forward and cracked a sharp backhand across her face, then followed it immediately with a Tongue-Tying Curse.

Umbridge's shrieking cut off dead. She could only glare, wide-eyed, forcing out muffled whimpers.

"You can't do this to me!"

Watching Umbridge's fate, Fudge finally dragged himself out of his stupor and made his last stand.

His face flushed crimson. He roared:

"I am still the Minister for Magic! You have no authority to arrest me! Only the Wizengamot has the right to issue that order!"

At the name Wizengamot, more than a few Aurors faltered.

The Wizengamot, the Supreme Court of wizarding law, comprised of fifty of the most respected and prestigious wizards in the Wizarding World.

Its actual authority stood even above the Ministry of Magic, including the supreme power to remove a sitting minister.

Under ordinary circumstances, it did not involve itself in the Ministry's day-to-day operations. It presided over major cases and historic rulings only, and it dealt in evidence, not personal connections.

Factional maneuvering existed within it, as with any body. But its reputation for fairness was the highest in the entire Wizarding World.

Watching Fudge's desperate thrashing, Lockhart let out a quiet laugh, then a cold snort.

"Do you honestly think that at this point, after every rotten thing you've done has been exposed in front of everyone, the Wizengamot would still let you keep your seat?"

The Wizengamot followed the rules. But they weren't blind.

He had offended Dumbledore, provoked the Witch, and dragged the Ministry's reputation through the dirt.

Why would they stand against the two most powerful wizards alive just to shield one disgraced, ousted minister covered head to toe in filth?

Lockhart reached out and patted Fudge's stiff cheek.

"Wake up, Cornelius. Azkaban is where you belong."

At the word Azkaban, Fudge shuddered.

The fight went out of him all at once. He slumped, and in a single moment he looked ten years older.

He didn't spare Umbridge another glance as she writhed on the ground like a maggot. He didn't look at Lockhart either.

He only raised his head, slowly, and fixed a quiet stare on Dumbledore.

"You won, Albus."

Fudge's voice was barely above a murmur. It carried the hollow bleakness of a man who had nothing left.

"All that scheming, all that time — and you finally drove me out."

He looked at the man he had once both respected and feared, and the corner of his mouth pulled into something bitter.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"Cornelius, I never wanted to be your enemy. And I will not be becoming Minister for Magic."

Fudge blinked, confusion filling his eyes. "Then what was any of this for?"

"For the truth."

Dumbledore's voice was low and measured.

"Voldemort is not dead. He resurrected at the Triwizard Tournament, yes, Hermione struck him down again, but he only lost another body. He still has other Horcruxes. I was not lying to you."

Dumbledore looked at the old acquaintance standing before him, and a trace of genuine sorrow moved through his eyes.

"You were simply blinded by power. So blinded that you refused to think about it. Refused to believe it."

Fudge stared at him.

His lips parted as if to argue. But looking at the sheer candor in Dumbledore's eyes, nothing came out.

A long silence.

Then, slowly, he nodded. He said nothing more, and let the Aurors lead him away.

"Take them."

Lockhart waved his hand.

The crowd began moving toward the exit.

"Wait."

A cool voice cut through the air without warning.

Two words. That was all. But every Auror in the room went rigid.

They turned back, trembling.

"Y-Your Ladyship the Witch... d-do you have further instructions?"

It was over. She'd changed her mind. She was going to purge them too.

"Take Fudge with you."

Under everyone's strained gaze, Hermione pointed at a certain Pink Toad.

"She stays."

Every Auror exhaled at once.

As long as it wasn't them, anyone was fine.

Never mind Umbridge, even if the Witch wanted to slice Fudge to pieces right here on the spot, they wouldn't have raised one single objection.

"Yes! Of course, Your Ladyship!"

The lead Auror bowed without a second's hesitation, desperate to move before Hermione could change her mind.

Regulations? Violations?

What regulations? Which violations?

In this place, the Witch's word was the only rule that existed.

➤ Next: Grinding Bones to Dust

Chapter 364 - Grinding Bones to Dust

Lockhart clapped an Auror on the shoulder and called out:

"Brothers, during the arrest just now, Dolores Umbridge resisted and fled, attempting to assault our Aurors with Dark Magic. She was struck down on the spot. Her body fell into the Black Lake, devoured by the creatures below, and vanished without a trace."

He looked around.

"Isn't that right?"

The Aurors caught on immediately and chimed in.

"Right! That's exactly how it happened!"

"The criminal Umbridge has been executed on the spot!"

"We'll all testify to it!"

Lockhart looked over his quick-witted subordinates and gave a satisfied nod.

He turned to Hermione. She gave the faintest tilt of her head. He took the cue at once, squared himself to face the hall, and announced:

"Upon investigation, Dolores Umbridge is suspected of serious criminal violations. Her appointment as Acting Headmistress of Hogwarts is hereby revoked, effective immediately!"

With that, he didn't linger. He bowed once more to Hermione and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore opened a gap in the spatial lockdown. Lockhart escorted the ashen-faced Fudge out of the Great Hall, his procession marching away in full force.

The conscience of the Ministry of Magic had left the building.

The great doors swung shut behind them. The outside world was sealed away.

Hermione descended the steps from the platform.

One step at a time.

Her footsteps rang out clear and crisp in the silence.

With every step, Umbridge flinched.

Moments ago, blind with rage, she had thrown all reason out and screamed at Fudge without restraint.

But now the Ministry's people were gone. She was alone, face to face with this Witch, and her sanity came flooding back.

Everything buried deep in her memory came with it.

She had been abandoned. Completely.

And she had managed to make mortal enemies of both Dumbledore and the Witch in one go.

The will to survive crushed what was left of her dignity.

Umbridge scrambled forward on hands and knees, not caring how she looked, and hit the floor in a full kneel before Hermione's feet with a thud.

"Lady Witch! I was wrong! I know I was wrong!"

She pressed her forehead to the ground over and over, each impact landing with a dull, hollow knock. Tears and snot ran freely down her face.

"Please, hand me over to the Ministry! Spare my life, I'll never do it again!"

"Azkaban is fine! I'll go to Azkaban!"

"Please, just let me go..."

Hermione stopped in front of her. She leaned down slowly, bringing her face level with Umbridge's.

She drew out every syllable.

"What... do you... think?"

Umbridge went rigid.

She looked up in terror and met a pair of eyes with nothing in them. No warmth. No hesitation.

"Last time," Hermione said, voice soft, "I didn't deal with you myself. I handed you to the Ministry and let them sort it out. That was already me letting you off."

"As long as you never showed your face in front of me again, I wouldn't have wasted the effort finishing off something as worthless as you."

"But when I gave you that chance, you didn't take it. You waited until my back was turned and started causing trouble again."

Hermione shook her head.

"Since you're so determined to die, I'll oblige."

She straightened up. Every last trace of a smile was gone.

"Though before you go, I should give you a proper send-off. Only fitting, given your dedication."

She raised one hand and pointed a single finger at Umbridge on the floor.

"Crucio."

A bone-deep chill swept over Umbridge in an instant.

"AAAAAAHHHHH!"

The shriek tore through the hall, piercing every ear in the room.

Dumbledore sighed quietly and gave his wand a gentle flick.

The students who'd been craning their necks to watch felt their vision blur. The scene ahead went hazy, like someone had slid a pane of thick frosted glass across their eyes. They could see shapes, light and shadow, distorted movement. Nothing more.

On the floor, Umbridge rolled and convulsed wildly. The Magical Rope had long since snapped under her thrashing. Both hands clawed frantically at her own body, fingernails raking through skin, leaving deep, ragged gouges that showed red all the way down.

Hermione watched her tear herself apart and felt a quiet flicker of satisfaction.

Not bad. A level-six Cruciatus. The power was something else.

She'd never had a good opportunity to test it on a person before. Today had finally given her the right subject.

The screaming went on for 3 full minutes before it faded.

Umbridge collapsed into a heap on the floor, soaked in blood, chest barely moving. Her eyes had gone vacant.

"P-please..." The voice that came out was a scraped-out whisper, wrung from the very last of her strength. "L-let me... Azkaban..."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Still got air in you?"

"Dose wasn't high enough, then."

"Let's fix that."

Her finger came up again.

"Crucio!"

This time there was no scream.

Umbridge's body arched backward like a strung bow, a wet, rattling sound clawing its way out of her throat. Her eyes bulged, the whites pressing outward, on the edge of rupture.

Round after round of it. Hell, on repeat.

When Hermione finally stopped, the thing on the floor barely looked human. Eyes rolled back. Expression slack and empty. Drool at the corner of her mouth. The occasional twitch running through her limbs.

Alive only in the most technical sense.

Hermione snapped her fingers.

SNAP!

A cluster of ice-blue flame kindled quietly at her fingertips.

It flickered and danced. It looked like fire. But the cold radiating from it was something else entirely — not the cold of winter air, but the kind that felt like it could freeze a soul solid.

She flicked her finger.

The little flame drifted out, weightless, and landed on what remained of Umbridge.

No crackle. No screaming.

The moment it touched her, Umbridge's body, blood, ruin and all, froze solid in under a second. A perfect, glittering ice sculpture.

Then, very faintly: CRACK.

Fissures spread across the surface.

CRASH!

The entire sculpture shattered under the deep cold, exploding outward into a fine, ice-blue powder that scattered through the air and vanished. Not a scrap of ash. Not a trace.

Ground to dust. Gone.

"Retire in Azkaban?"

Hermione gave a cold scoff.

"Dream on."

Dumbledore raised his wand and swept it in a slow arc, dissolving the spatial lockdown and lifting the visual barrier in one motion.

The students' eyes cleared.

The front of the Great Hall was empty.

As if that pink figure had never been there at all.

Nobody asked where Umbridge had gone.

Nobody said a word. It was a unanimous, unspoken agreement.

Because today had been the most satisfying thing they'd ever seen.

They had watched the untouchable, imperious Minister for Magic fall from his pedestal in front of the whole school and get hauled away like a wet dog. They had watched the Aurors who lorded over them every day, docking points, handing out detentions on a whim, get beaten into a full retreat.

And most importantly, the twisted, sadistic Pink Toad who had made their lives a misery for the past six months had finally gotten exactly what she deserved.

Every last scrap of frustration and fury that had been piling up all year came loose in that moment.

Nothing had ever come close to this.

Every student's eyes came to rest on the same figure.

Awe. Adoration. Something close to reverence.

Hermione stood beneath all of it and let her voice carry to every corner of the Great Hall.

"I announce!"

"Effective today — Albus Dumbledore is reinstated as Headmaster of Hogwarts!"

A beat of silence.

Then the roof nearly came off.

"OHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"WHOOOOOOOOO!"

"LONG LIVE HEADMASTER DUMBLEDORE!"

"LONG LIVE THE WITCH!"

➤ Next: Impossible, Absolutely Impossible