Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 776: The True Target of the Death Eaters

Kyle had hoped he was just overthinking it.

After all, the news that followed suggested there had only ever been two so-called Death Eaters in Little Whinging and Privet Drive—the ones Tonks had distracted. Or rather, they weren’t even true Death Eaters at all.

Once everyone had left, Tonks returned to Privet Drive with a few Aurors and easily captured them. No reinforcements arrived, no Death Eaters came to their aid. Under interrogation, the two revealed they had been in Cornwall just a few days earlier. Admirers of Voldemort, they had sought to join the Death Eaters, and their first assigned task had been spying on Harry Potter.

In other words, they were nothing more than disposable pawns, given a meaningless mission that cost nothing. They knew nothing, and they weren’t even sure who to report to if anything unexpected happened—because no one had contacted them since their arrival.

No wonder everyone had made it through unscathed. The Death Eaters had never even been there. Every plan they had made—every precaution, every maneuver, even their use of the Portkey—had been a battle against an enemy that didn’t exist.

Kyle wasn’t the only one who sensed something was off. The once lively atmosphere had died the moment Tonks finished speaking, leaving the room steeped in silent contemplation.

“Isn’t this great?”

Ron, however, remained unfazed. He grinned and said cheerfully, “It means the false information we planted worked. You-Know-Who must have thought we weren’t going to take Harry until the 30th.”

Beside him, Mundungus nodded in agreement. As far as he was concerned, the absence of danger was a good thing—so why was everyone acting so tense?

But no one else shared his optimism.

Everyone in the room had dealt with Death Eaters before. They knew that if Voldemort had truly intended to make a move on Harry, there was no way it would have gone unnoticed. Even if they had been misled by the false intelligence, they would have responded by now.

Because Death Eaters were cruel, but they weren’t fools.

It had been half an hour since the mission ended. If Voldemort’s forces had truly been that slow to react, they would already be captured and rotting away in Azkaban alongside the Dementors.

“Anyway, it’s good that Harry is safe and sound,” Mrs. Weasley said quickly, sensing the tension in the air.

She glanced at the clock and gasped. “My goodness, is it really this late? You must all be starving!”

With that, she led them to the dining room, intent on distracting them with food.

But there hadn’t been time to prepare a proper meal—she hadn’t even had the heart for it earlier. So, in the end, she had only managed to put together some simple sandwiches.

Not that it mattered. No one had much of an appetite.

Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, Mad-Eye Moody, and the other adults sat at the table, drinking glass after glass of wine, their expressions clouded with the same silent concern.

They didn’t voice it aloud, but Kyle knew exactly what they were all thinking.

Dumbledore.

The only reason the Death Eaters had abandoned their operation here was because they had something far more important to do—something like ambushing Dumbledore.

Now that he was abroad, with only a few allies at his side, it was the perfect time to strike. If they succeeded in killing him, there would be no one left to oppose Voldemort.

And then, it wouldn’t matter what happened to Harry.

With Dumbledore gone, Voldemort’s return would be complete. He would have free reign to seize control of the Ministry, to attack Hogwarts, to do whatever he pleased.

And this time, there would be no one left to stop him.

…

To be honest, Kyle really wanted to help, but he had no idea where Dumbledore had gone, and neither did Professor McGonagall or the rest of the Order of the Phoenix.

The only thing to be thankful for was that Dumbledore still had Fawkes by his side.

The phoenix could withstand the Killing Curse once and could also take him away from the battlefield in an instant if things turned dire. Even if they couldn’t win, they could at least escape… I hope it’s okay.

For some reason, Kyle suddenly thought of Nurmengard again.

He shook his head and picked up a sandwich, shoving it into his mouth in an attempt to steady himself.

If Voldemort really had gone to Nurmengard, then there was even less to worry about. With Grindelwald and Dumbledore joining forces, they could probably hang all the Death Eaters—along with Voldemort—from the tower as decorations.

Thinking of this, Kyle took a deep breath and began eating his dinner.

However, the others still weren’t in the mood. A bottle of Firewhiskey was quickly emptied, and Sirius was just about to open a second when Mr. Weasley stopped him. He shook his head.

“Forget it. We need to stay alert.”

Sirius hesitated but ultimately relented.

He was right. No matter what the Death Eaters’ plan was, they had to remain vigilant in case anything else happened.

Since they couldn’t drink alcohol, they settled for whatever else they could find—hot chocolate, pumpkin juice, milk—anything to keep their hands occupied.

They sat at the table, waiting. Waiting for Dumbledore. Waiting for something. But no one wanted to be the first to ask for news.

Time passed slowly, and the weight of dark possibilities settled over them like a heavy frost.

Until a voice broke the silence.

“You’re in for a treat.”

Phineas Black’s portrait had appeared out of nowhere, his tone dripping with amusement as he surveyed the group.

Kyle turned, and before anyone could say anything, Sirius spoke up.

“Come on, what’s the news?”

Phineas had been acting as an informant for a while now, passing along messages from Dumbledore to the Order of the Phoenix.

Phineas, however, scowled. “Is that any way to treat your great-great-grandfather?”

Sirius exhaled sharply. “Hurry up! Or I’ll throw your portrait away. Permanent Sticking Charm or not, I can still take down the whole wall with you on it. You know I mean it.”

Phineas looked positively affronted. “What a disgrace. How could the Blacks have produced such an aberration?” His face twisted in irritation, but despite his distaste, he straightened his expression and finally spoke:

“That Fudge—he’s dead.”

The room fell silent.

Kyle had the vague impression that a few people looked almost relieved—like they were grateful it wasn’t the news they had been dreading.

Only Hermione reacted with open shock.

“You mean the Minister for Magic?” she nearly shrieked.

Phineas raised an eyebrow. “Why, wasn’t that clear enough?” He smirked. “I’ll say it again, then: Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was killed inside the Ministry of Magic by Death Eaters.”

“Okay, shut up, we get it,” Sirius interrupted sharply.

Phineas shot him a look of disgust but continued in a mocking tone.

“Just an hour ago, the Ministry of Magic was attacked by a large number of Death Eaters. With the help of an insider, they found Fudge hiding in his office and killed him.”

“I thought you already knew.”

No one paid attention to his sneering tone.

An hour ago.

That was when they had rescued Harry.

It all made sense now.

The Death Eaters had planned this from the start. They had sent two worthless pawns to Privet Drive to make the Order think their target was Harry—when in reality, their true objective had always been the Minister.

While the Order of the Phoenix had been distracted, while they had focused everything on protecting Harry, the Death Eaters had stormed the Ministry, where security had been spread thin, and eliminated Fudge.

A perfect misdirection.

Fudge might not have been a good person, but as Minister for Magic, his position represented stability. His death was a devastating blow to the wizarding world.

And the implications didn’t stop there.

The Ministry controlled key institutions—the Department of Magical Transportation, responsible for the Floo Network, Apparition, and Portkeys, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which upheld the laws that governed wizarding Britain. The chaos that would follow would shake the entire world.

Not to mention the Ministry’s role in international relations. The news of Fudge’s murder would humiliate them on a global scale.

“Damn Death Eaters!”

Kingsley was the first to react. As an Auror, it felt like a slap to his face. His expression darkened, and without hesitation, he bolted out the door.

Tonks, Moody, and Mr. Weasley immediately followed.

Before, they had all feared that the Death Eaters had disappeared to confront Dumbledore. No one had wanted to be the one to hear confirmation of his death, so they had stayed here, waiting.

But it had been a different kind of disaster all along.

“Never mind,” Mrs. Weasley said, forcing a smile as she turned to the remaining group. “At least we know the Death Eaters didn’t go after Dumbledore, right?”

Yes.

The Death Eaters had delivered a powerful, humiliating blow, but at the very least, it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.

That was why, earlier, some people had unconsciously sighed in relief.

“I’ll go have a look,” Kyle said abruptly.

He was, after all, still the Assistant to the Minister for Magic—at least in name. And then there was Cedric, who worked at the Ministry. He had to check on him.

“And me.”

“Me too.”

Fred and George had obviously thought of Cedric as well, and they instantly got up to follow.

“I’ll go too,” Harry said.

“No!” Mrs. Weasley grabbed his arm firmly. “You’d better stay here. This is the only safe place.”

Harry felt his stomach churn.

Because of him—because of his safety—the Order had taken their eyes off the Ministry, leaving it vulnerable to attack.

He had no idea what had happened there. No idea how many people had died.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

He rubbed his forehead. His scar was tingling again. It hadn’t hurt like this in a long time.

“What if the Death Eaters haven’t left yet?” he said desperately. “I could help—”

“Don’t worry, everything will be fine,” Mrs. Weasley murmured, pulling him into a tight hug. It was hard to tell if she was trying to reassure him or herself. “It’s okay. Your safety is just as important. They’ll be fine.”

Soon, the only ones left in the room were Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny—the students who hadn’t graduated yet. Mrs. Weasley stationed herself near the door, keeping a watchful eye to ensure none of them tried to sneak out.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said angrily. “Why can Kyle leave, but we can’t?”

“I think Kyle has already graduated,” Hermione whispered.

“What about the Cloak of Invisibility?” Ron muttered. “Mum won’t be watching us all the time. If we put it on, we can sneak out—”

“Don’t even think about it!” Ginny snapped, glaring at him. “If Harry gets into trouble at the Ministry, all our hard work will have been for nothing.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “At least now we’ve managed to rescue Harry.”

Harry clenched his jaw.

It was about his safety again.

His stomach twisted painfully.

The pumpkin juice he had just drunk felt as if it had turned into a million tiny fists, pounding against his insides, over and over again.

…

Meanwhile, Kyle and the Weasley brothers, having left 12 Grimmauld Place, sprinted down another street to avoid revealing its location. Only then did they Apparate to the Ministry of Magic’s location.

The telephone booth at the entrance had been overturned and smashed to pieces.

Fortunately, they weren’t using that entrance. Their destination was an old record store—the Ministryʼs staff entrance.

The shop’s owner, a wizard named Rudd, wasn’t there at the moment. Not that it mattered. Without hesitation, the group headed straight for a cabinet at the back of the store.

Kyle stepped forward. “I’m the Senior Assistant to the Minister for Magic, and I need to get to the Ministry.”

A cold, mechanical female voice spoke from the nearby record player. “Welcome to the Ministry of Magic.”

With a click, the cabinet swung open, revealing a hidden passage.

They rushed inside.

The hallways of the Ministry were in chaos. Moans and cries for help echoed through the space, Healers darting around to tend to the wounded.

The golden statue in the atrium—only recently repaired—had been shattered once again. Glistening shards lay scattered across the floor.

“Well, there’s no Cedric here,” Fred said anxiously.

“No,” Kyle confirmed after scanning the room.

“It’s okay,” George murmured. “Maybe he’s not here after all. It was already past curfew an hour ago. Maybe he’s gone home.”

“Yeah,” Fred nodded.

But they all knew the truth—there had been no real curfew at the Ministry for a long time, not since the Death Eaters had begun their attacks.

A heavy silence fell over the group.

“The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures is on the fourth floor,” Fred said suddenly.

“Good.”

Without another word, Kyle and George understood his intent and turned toward the lift.

Thankfully, the lifts were still working.

But the atrium was packed—Healers, Ministry workers, civilians who had rushed over after hearing the news.

“This isn’t going to work,” George muttered. “We need to find another way.”

“We’ll take the stairs,” Kyle said.

But when they reached the stairwell, they found their path blocked. A massive boulder, likely dislodged from an explosion on an upper floor, had crashed down and sealed off the way.

A few wizards were using Blasting Curses in an attempt to clear it, but they had little effect.

“Out of the way, out of the way!”

Kyle pulled out his wand, but instead of using a Blasting Curse, he cast a Transfiguration Spell. The boulder shimmered and shrank, shifting into the form of a Crup—a small, dog-like magical creature with a forked tail.

The Crup barked excitedly before darting off to the side, and just like that, the stairs were clear.

“Transfiguration can be used like that?” Fred blinked.

“What else?” Kyle said as he started running up the stairs. “It’s better than a Blasting Curse.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” a voice behind them said. “But not everyone could have transfigured such a large stone.”

Kyle didn’t turn around. He was too focused on Cedric to bother with whoever was speaking.

But the voice continued.

“It’s really remarkable for someone your age to manage that. You look familiar—do you work at the Ministry, too?”

“I’ll tell you what, though, my son could definitely do that. He’s transporting the injured right now, but he still insisted that I go help elsewhere.”

There was a slight pause.

“Oh yes, you two—are you Weasley children? How’s Arthur?”

Hearing Mr. Weasley’s name finally made Kyle turn around. The voice had seemed vaguely familiar, but now that he saw the speaker, he understood why.

A tall man with a short brown beard was following them up the stairs.

Kyle’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Mr. Diggory?”

Amos Diggory’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh, Kyle! No wonder you looked so familiar.”

His gaze shifted to Fred and George. “And I was right about you two—you are the Weasley boys. I’d recognize that hair anywhere. How are Arthur and Chris? Are they all right?”

“They’re both fine,” Fred said, pursing his lips. “Mr. Diggory… where’s Cedric?”

“Cedric?” Amos Diggory gave a reassuring wave of his hand. “He escorted some of the critically injured to St. Mungo’s. As you can see, there’s only so much we can do here.”

“Is he okay?” George asked.

”Oh, he’s fine.” Mr. Diggory waved his hand and lowered his voice. ”Though it might sound a bit inappropriate to say this, when the Death Eaters attacked the Ministry of Magic, we were lucky to be at Borgin’s place, dealing with his magically altered creatures.”