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Hermione blinked, her toast forgotten. The headline next to the moving photograph of the smoking Ministry ruin was not subtle.
SHOCKING! MINISTRY TORTURE ATTEMPT BACKFIRES, LEADS TO DEMOLITION!
Hogwarts Third-Year Sweeps Ministry; Aurors Left Powerless!
Dumbledore's Successor? The Terrifying Library Witch Rises!
Hermione's lips twitched. Well, she thought, at least they got my good side.
She had underestimated the speed of the Daily Prophet. The event had happened yesterday afternoon, and by breakfast, it was printed, packaged, and distributed to every household in Britain. No wonder it was the top-selling newspaper; their gossip network traveled faster than owl post.
Before Cornelius Fudge could even attempt a cover-up, the truth was out. Western journalism—even magical journalism—moved at the speed of scandal.
Harry approached her cautiously, his face a complex mix of concern and awe. "Hermione… are you alright? And… holy cricket, you're awesome!"
He tapped the paper. "Is everything written here true? Did you really fight the entire Ministry?" He knew the Prophet liked to exaggerate—Skeeter had practically invented fake news—but the photos of the destroyed Atrium looked very real.
Hermione put down the newspaper, wiped a crumb from her lip, and nodded slightly. "Yes. That's right. I did it."
HISS—
A collective gasp sucked the air out of the Great Hall. The atmosphere instantly shifted from quiet observation to explosive, frenzied excitement.
The students stared at her wide-eyed, as if she were a prehistoric behemoth that had just decided to eat the headmaster. They knew Hermione was strong—she had fought trolls and basilisks—but they never expected her to go head-to-head with the government and win!
And she hadn't just won; she had demolished the place.
"This is… this is just so exciting!" a Hufflepuff whispered.
Ron looked at Hermione with an expression of pure adoration, his mouth hanging open wide enough to catch a Snitch.
"Hermione, you… you're amazing!" he stammered, so excited he was practically vibrating. "Even the Ministry of Magic is no match for you! You're simply… simply… awesome! You're… NB!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. Why is he muted? It's practically the same as saying the profanity.
"And hey," she scolded lightly, "you filial son. Your dad still works at the Ministry. The building I blew up is his office. What are you getting so worked up about?"
Ron waved a hand dismissively. "Dad hates that office anyway. It's drafty."
As the initial shock wore off, the Gryffindor table was instantly swarmed. Students from every house—even a few brave Slytherins—crowded around.
"Hermione! Tell us quickly!" an upperclassman squeezed to the front, his face practically screaming for gossip. "Did you really use Fiendfyre? Is it true you made Fudge cry?"
"I heard you almost killed the Senior Undersecretary! That pink toad woman!" a girl chirped, her tone tinged with unholy glee. "Did she bleed pink too?"
"I heard Fudge peed his pants!" Ron added helpfully.
Hermione sighed, rubbing her forehead. Just how much does this school hate the government? They looked happier to see the Ministry humiliated than if they had found a pot of gold.
"By the way, Hermione," a Ravenclaw girl suddenly interrupted, pushing her way through. Her face was flushed a suspicious red. "The paper mentioned a new Auror. Ethan Hunt? Under Lockhart's wing?"
The mood shifted instantly.
"Is he very handsome?" another girl asked breathlessly. "The photo was blurry, but he looked tall! Can you introduce me?"
"Yes, yes! I want to know him too!"
"Please, Hermione! Introduce us! I really want to date him…"
Suddenly, the painting style changed drastically. The dark political thriller became a shoujo romance anime.
Hermione's lips twitched violently. She looked at the blushing girls, clutching their chests and sighing over the description of the handsome, brave Auror.
Oh no, she thought. Oh, this is precious.
"Okay," Hermione said, fighting to keep a straight face. "I'll… ask around for you when I have the chance. I wish you success in your pursuit of your idol."
She glanced at them with profound pity.
Help, she screamed internally. Someone here wants to date Voldemort!
"Yay! Long live Hermione!" the girls cheered, oblivious to the fact that they were thirsting over the most dangerous dark wizard in history.
As Hermione looked at the worshipful, reverent, and fanatical gazes surrounding her, a dangerous thought occurred. If I were to raise my voice now and form a cult… would I get more support than Dumbledore?
Just then, a slender, pale hand reached out from the throng, grabbed her wrist with surprising strength, and yanked her away.
"Come with me!"
The owner of the voice didn't wait. She dragged Hermione out of the Great Hall, running wildly through the corridors, turning left and right, winding through the shifting staircases until they finally stopped in a secluded, quiet hallway on the seventh floor.
The girl leaned against the stone wall, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.
Hermione looked at her rescuer. Long, dirty-blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Large, protuberant silvery eyes blinked dreamily.
"Huff… huff…"
Luna Lovegood took a deep breath. "I noticed you seemed a bit overwhelmed by the Nargles—I mean, the fans—so I took the liberty of bringing you out."
She tilted her head, her tone carrying a hint of apology but also a sly, knowing playfulness.
Hermione snapped out of her daze and smiled. "It's okay, Luna. You saved me. They were asking about dating my… associate."
Luna blinked slowly. "So, everything that happened at the Ministry… was all part of your plan, wasn't it?"
She paused, her gaze piercing. "The goal wasn't just destruction. It was to put Professor Lockhart in charge, and… to steal their magical artifacts while they were distracted."
Hermione didn't answer directly. She simply raised an eyebrow. Tacit agreement.
Seeing this, Luna nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "But where did that Ethan Hunt come from? How can he fight you to a standstill when no one else can?"
She tapped her chin, lost in thought. Suddenly, her eyes lit up.
"Ah! I understand!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Ethan… it must be Senior Riddle, right? The diary memory you gave a body to?"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She nodded. "That's right. It's him. Voldemort with a nose job."
Luna clapped her hands and jumped up and down, cheering. "I knew it! I knew it! He has such a distinct aura! Like cold soup!"
Her excitement was pure, like a child solving a riddle. Hermione sighed internally. This girl. Intuition or genius? It's frightening.
Suddenly, Luna stopped jumping. She pouted, puffing out her cheeks like an angry pufferfish.
"You didn't invite me!" she complained, putting her hands on her hips. "Something so fun! Blowing up the Ministry! And you left me here!"
"It was dangerous, Luna," Hermione said gently.
"I'm practicing magic really hard now!" Luna countered. "So I can keep up with you!"
To prove herself, Luna whipped out her wand.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A flash of brilliant silver light erupted. A corporeal Patronus—a hare—materialized out of thin air. It ran happily around them, leaping and bounding in the corridor, radiating pure joy.
Hermione's eyes widened. A corporeal Patronus? In third year?
"Okay, don't be angry," Hermione said, surrendering. She unleashed her ultimate move: The Head Pat.
She reached out and gently stroked Luna's soft hair. Luna squinted her eyes instantly, leaning into the touch like a content kitten.
"When the time is right," Hermione promised softly, "I'll take you to an even more interesting place. Guaranteed to be a hundred times more exciting than the Ministry of Magic. There are aliens there."
Luna's eyes snapped open, shining. "Really? Where is it? Does it have Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"
"You'll find out," Hermione said mysteriously.
A Few Weeks Later.
The fervor surrounding the Ministry rampage had gradually subsided, replaced by the usual Hogwarts gossip. Hermione counted the days on her calendar. It was time.
After making some preparations, she disappeared into the girls' bathroom in a flash of light.
Next stop: The Bus.
Preview: Skye is coming soon.