Unprecedented, Unbelievable, and Shocking Attack on Hogsmeade
2 Students and 8 Others Killed; Dozens Wounded
In an extremely unbelievable and shocking turn of events, around two dozen Death Eaters launched an unprecedented attack on the magical settlement of Hogsmeade. This magical settlement is a small town located close to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though the settlement lies outside the administrative jurisdiction of Hogwarts, historically the place has been something closely associated with Hogwarts.
It must be noted that yesterday was the day of the week when Hogwarts students are allowed to travel to Hogsmeade.
In the attack that followed, two students from Hufflepuff and eight other residents of Hogsmeade were killed. Dozens more have been wounded and are currently being treated at the Hogsmeade infirmary. At the time of publishing this news, around half a dozen students were still in a serious condition and were not completely out of danger. This has been confirmed to us by our sources and there has been no official response from Hogwarts till now.
This attack is the biggest and most daring strike the Death Eaters have mounted since the inception of their movement. That it comes mere days after eight of them were killed during their failed assault on the Bones Manor makes it all the more shocking.
After their previous failure to kill Lord Edmund Bones and his daughter, a belief had begun to take root in the minds of the people, that the Death Eaters had been pushed to the back foot, that it was possible, perhaps even not that difficult, to oppose and defeat them. Lord Bones and previously Lord Antonio Olario had shown that it was entirely possible to kill them.
A sense of optimism had been growing, and the hope that this terrorising movement would finally come to an end had started to strengthen. But now, it all seems to have come crashing down.
The attack makes it obvious that the Death Eaters have not been really pushed against the wall and this attack was probably a retaliation against their failed attack.
Dumbledore slumped slightly in his chair as he set the newspaper back on his desk. He did not finish the article. He could not.
Every page that morning had been filled with reports of the attack on Hogsmeade, from the stark recounting of facts to the harrowing testimonies of eyewitnesses. Although Hogwarts was in a state of lockdown with only injured students allowed to speak to their family, the residents of Hogsmeade were freely available.
Every detail had been laid bare, and Dumbledore knew this would continue for days, perhaps weeks, unless an even greater and juicy news captured public attention.
He had already received more than a dozen letters, each demanding a statement, each asking what he intended to do in response. But Dumbledore had no words to give them.
It had been years, decades, perhaps, since Albus Dumbledore had felt such helplessness. His posture was no longer straight and proud as it once had been, and the ever present twinkle in his eyes had dimmed. In just one day, he seemed to have aged by several years.
This was not something he had ever imagined. He had always believed, firmly, even arrogantly that his name alone was enough to keep the Death Eaters away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. He had assumed that Tom… Voldemort knew his strength well enough not to cross that line.
Even if Tom had become the Dark Lord, Dumbledore had been certain he would never dare to intrude upon his domain. Not yet. Not until he had solidified his hold over the rest of Wizarding Britain. But Tom had done the unexpected.
And Dumbledore had paid the price for his complacency. He had lost. And so had the students he was supposed to protect.
A soft knock on the door pulled Dumbledore from his thoughts.
"Come in," he said quietly.
As always, he had already sensed Minerva's approach long before she knocked but today, he had not been in the mood for his usual gentle humor, the kind that would invite her in before she reached the door.
The door opened with a soft creak, and Professor McGonagall stepped inside.
"Albus," she said, using his first name, a rare occurrence, as she approached his desk and stopped across from him.
"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, his voice weary, his eyes distant.
"Every student is out of danger now," she informed him. "A few will need a couple more days to heal, but there is no threat to anyone's life anymore. All of them are safe."
A faint breath of relief escaped Dumbledore's lips.
"That is good news," he said softly. He did not know how he would have put up with the news of another death.
"Albus," Minerva continued, her tone hesitant, almost dreading what she had to say next, "the parents of the two deceased students have agreed to hold the funerals here on Hogwarts grounds. It will be this evening."
It was not a message Minerva had ever wished to deliver. Funeral of students. Not in her lifetime.
Albus nodded absently. It had been his request, after all, that the parents allow their children to be buried at Hogwarts. It was the least he could do to honour them, the smallest gesture to acknowledge the failure that had cost their young lives. They would be memorialized at Hogwarts.
"Albus," Minerva prompted again, her voice low but firm.
"Yes, Minerva?" he murmured, not lifting his gaze from the desk.
"What will we do?" she asked quietly.
Dumbledore slowly leaned back in his chair, repeating her words under his breath. "What will we do?"
The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, as silence filled the office once more.
"Yes," Minerva pressed on. "We need to give a response, Albus. Everyone is waiting for an official word from us. Students, parents, even the Ministry."
Albus nodded slowly, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. The weight of responsibility hung over him like a shroud.
"Minerva," he said at last, his voice low but steady. "Inform everyone that they are permitted to attend the funeral this evening."
Minerva opened her mouth to protest, concern flickering across her face but before she could speak, Dumbledore lifted his head. His eyes met hers. And she fell silent. The words had struck in her throat.
It was not the look of grief or age-weariness she had expected. What she saw instead was fire. Raw, controlled, and ancient. Though not a literal flame, Minerva, attuned as she was to the flow of magic, could feel it. A tsunami of magical power surging within him, barely restrained.
"I will speak," Dumbledore said firmly. "At the funeral. That will be my official word."
For a long moment, Minerva could only stare at him. Then she gave a small, wordless nod of agreement.
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