Harry crouched beside the others, jaw clenched. His hand curled tight around his robe. “The visions are getting worse. More frequent. He’s after something in the Ministry, I saw it again last night.”

Everyone turned to him.

Harry didn’t blink. “In the last one… I saw Professor R. getting killed.”

Ginny flinched. Daphne’s mouth pulled tight. Ron shifted, rubbing at his arms.

“Let’s find an adult,” he muttered. “Preferably one who can hex.”

“We just need to tell Professor Babbling,” Harry went on, voice rough. “Make sure he stays in the castle.”

Hermione sighed hard. “I still think it might be a trap. But at least you’re not proposing we march straight into the Ministry. So that’s something.”

Pansy scoffed faintly. “Yet.”

No one laughed.

Fred and George leaned back against the nearest wall, arms folded, looking like they were listening without fully committing. Luna was perched on a carved stone bench, staring up at the clouds, but her eyes were sharper than usual. Susan had one hand on Hannah’s sleeve. Neither of them said anything.

Neville scratched at the back of his head. “What if we can’t find Professor Babbling? Or he’s already gone?”

Hermione opened her mouth, probably to say something sensible, but Harry was already standing.

“Come on. Let’s check his office first.”

They set off quickly, half-jogging through the corridors. His office was locked.

Ginny knocked, then knocked harder. No answer.

Tracey muttered something under her breath and tried the handle. Still nothing.

“Professor?” Harry called, knocking again. “Professor Babbling?”

They tried the classroom next. Her room, her classroom. No sign of either of them.

“That’s not right,” Hermione said. “He wouldn’t just leave.”

Pansy turned. “What if he was forced to?”

Before Harry could speak, the torchlight picked out a figure ahead. They froze.

Sirius stepped out from the corridor.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Harry took a step forward. “We were looking for-“

Sirius held up a hand.

“Go back to your common rooms,” he said. “All of you.”

“But-“

“Now, Harry. Prefects… even the Head Boy?” Sirius demanded sharply. “We told you to gather everyone in their rooms.”

Sirius’s gaze swept over them.

Hermione, Neville, Cedric, Daphne, Hannah, and the other prefects lowered their heads.

Harry clenched his jaw. “Where are Professors Rosier and Babbling?”

Sirius looked properly angry now. “They’re at the Ministry on official business. Now go back… immediately.”

The world dipped.

Sirius looked at them for a beat longer, then turned and strode off without another word.

Harry stared at the empty space where Sirius had vanished, fists clenched at his sides.

“He’s going to die,” he said quietly.

Neville didn’t look away from the floor.

“No magic,” Ginny said. “And if Voldemort’s there…”

George let out a breath. “We’re not letting him die.”

Fred already had his wand out.

Hermione stepped in front of them. “Don’t be stupid.”

“We’re past stupid,” Fred said.

“They’ll have him in a death trap,” George added. “We’re going.”

Tracey and Pansy exchanged a look, then both nodded.

Susan stepped forward. “He’s the reason we’re still here.”

“I’m going,” Harry said, final.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. “You don’t even know where they are. You don’t have a way to-“

“We’ll find a Floo or a Portkey,” George said.

Fred grinned. “Dumbledore’s room. He’s probably got one or two tucked away for emergencies.”

“That’s insane,” Hermione snapped.

“But it’ll work,” Luna said.

No one moved.

Then Daphne stepped forward. “We cannot leave him alone.”

Ron turned to Hermione. “You in?”

She didn’t answer straight away. Then sighed, furious with all of them. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it clean. No leaving trails.”

Ginny grinned. “Knew you’d cave.”

They bolted. Back through the halls, feet slapping against cold stone, hearts hammering.

Fred grabbed a tapestry and hauled it aside. “Shortcut through here.”

They darted in, weaving past empty staircases and silent portraits. One of the suits of armour turned to look. Pansy hexed it in the visor without slowing down.

Up another flight, past the Griffin, and Harry stepped in front of the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s office.

He looked up.

“Fizzing Whizzbee.”

The statue didn’t move.

Hermione cursed under her breath. “He changed it.”

Tracey stepped in, pressed her hand against the wall, muttering.

The gargoyle clicked.

George blinked. “What the hell was that?”

“Hehe, Professor R. was eating baklava yesterday,” she said, brushing dust from her fingers. “I saw him walk out of the Headmaster’s room.”

“Now I want some.” Lee grumbled.

They ran. The spiral stairs twisted underfoot, faster than they remembered. When they reached the top, Fred slammed the door open.

As they stepped into the room, every one of them braked at once.

Snape stood by the desk, arms loose, expression not even pretending to be polite. His gaze swept over them like he was deciding who’d last longest under fire.

“When he said I’d find yout here,” he said, voice dry with satisfaction, “I nearly laughed. Thought he was winding me up.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. More the kind of look you’d give a puddle right before stepping in on purpose.

“But here we are.”

Hermione opened her mouth, words scrambled, “Professor-“

“Shut it,” Snape snapped, already stepping forward. “Rosier said you’d poke your noses somewhere stupid. I volunteered to be the one who caught you.”

Harry bristled. “We’re not-“

“Oh, spare me,” Snape cut in again, brushing past them. “You’ve already done it, Potter. Whatever it is.”

He circled them. Smirking.

“And what’s the plan this time? Steal a Portkey? Hijack a broom? Summon a herd of thestrals with the power of sheer idiocy?”

Fred stepped forward. “We’re not going to stand here and let him die.”

Snape didn’t flinch. “Then sit down.”

George moved up beside his brother. “We’re serious.”

Snape raised a brow. “You’re Weasleys. I’d have hex you already if you were that mutt.”

Fred’s hand went for his wand. “We quit. If you’re stopping us, then you’re not our Professor anymore.”

George drew his too.

Snape looked at them like this was a game he enjoyed too much.

Their wands jerked sideways and clattered against the far wall before either of them could say another word.

Snape hadn’t even lifted his hand.

“You can try tantrums and treason,” he said, “but I do hope you brought more than shouting and poor aim.”

Fred took a step, jaw tight. “He’s alone.”

“No,” Snape said simply. “He’s not.”

They hesitated.

Snape’s expression didn’t shift, but something about it flattened.

“As much as I hate it, that man is nothing if not a great schemer,” he said. “Headmaster’s with him. So is half the nation’s bloody force.”

He scoffed, “And if that doesn’t comfort you, know this. If he falls, there’s a dozen others behind him. You’re not special. You’re not needed.”

Hermione winced. Ron opened his mouth, shut it again. Neville stared hard at the floor.

Snape stepped back. “No one leaves this castle tonight.”

He turned from them, moved to the door, hand loose by his side. “Go back to your dorms. Stay there. Let the adults fight the war.”

Fred looked ready to swing.

Harry grabbed his arm.

They all stood there, pressed full of noise they weren’t allowed to make, rage they couldn’t unload.

Snape waited.

After a moment, they moved.

As they turned to leave, Snape glanced back. Then he walked off, robes trailing behind him. “I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would.”

***

About an hour earlier.

Bagshot looked like she was deciding whether to hex Cassian or staple his tongue to the wall. Her hand twitched. “What did you just say?”

Cassian tossed her a grin as he led the way. “That the Ministry thinks I cheated. The exam was too hard, so if everyone got Outstanding, it must’ve been fraud. Either I slipped them answers, or they all snuck some in.”

Her feet scraped as she stopped. “That’s what I’m asking, why the hell are you so calm then?”

He shrugged. “Because I haven’t cheated.”

She gaped. “You think that’s going to matter? They went to all this trouble, you think they’ll stop because you say you’re innocent?”

Cassian sighed. “Bathilda. I know they won’t. But it’s not about me, hasn’t been for a while. The pureblood lot’s been yanking Fudge around like a puppet for over a year. We’ve had a person inside the meetings.”

Bagshot stared.

“Dumbledore knew. Bathsheda. Me. Kingsley. Amelia. Half the bloody Ministry’s been in on it. We’ve been waiting.”

Her mouth parted slightly. “You had a spy.”

“Didn’t tell you because you were off getting cursed in Mesoamerica.”

She blinked. True. She went to check a strange sighting earlier that year.

Cassian chuckled. “Point is, this isn’t a crackdown on exams. Pureblood families are clearing the Ministry out. Getting it nice and empty before Voldemort shows his face proper. Meantime, they’ll try to take Hogwarts. Break the school while they’ve still got fingers in the walls.”

Bagshot stared at him like she was trying to read a punchline off his forehead.

Cassian cracked his neck. “They want control. So they’ll pick their moment, sweep in, accuse me of cheating, say the curriculum’s corrupted, claim the school’s infected by radical thought.”

“And you’re… fine with that?” she said, voice flat.

“I’m not fine,” he said. “I’m ready.”

She clenched her wand. “What d’you mean, you’re ready?”

Cassian didn’t answer. Just turned, pushed open the door ahead, and walked in.

She followed and stopped.

The room was full. Dumbledore’s office had seen some odd assemblies in its time, but this one looked more like a war council dressed in Sunday robes.

Teachers lined the walls. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout. Hagrid loomed in the corner, arms crossed. Bathhilda’s eyes jumped to Kingsley, Amelia Bones, and a tight circle of Aurors she recognised, old guard. Battle-tested. Trusted.

Then her gaze landed on the committee folk, Goshawk, Fleur, Selena, a few others from the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. boards. All seated like they’d been here an hour already, heads tilted, watching.

And behind them, the families. Augusta Longbottom, stiff-backed and unimpressed. The Greengrass patriarch, cold-eyed, unreadable. The Abbotts. The Macmillans. Parkinsons. Weasleys.

And… Magnus. Regulus.

Both stood side by side near the hearth, looking like someone had carved them out. Neither looked surprised.

Cassian reached the centre. Stopped and turned.

“I just got word,” he said. “They’re pulling what’s left of the Auror Corps. Hit-Magicks too. Should be en route now.”

No one interrupted.

“While the Ministry is emptied, Voldemort and his lot’ll aim for the Ministry. No official objective yet, could be a takeover, could be a target inside. Doesn’t matter.”

He glanced between them. “We’re splitting.”

Some of the Aurors straightened. Amelia folded her arms tighter.

“One team holds here,” Cassian went on. “Selwyn, Lucius, the rest of that pack, they’ll come for the castle. We stop them. Alive if possible. Fudge too. He’s not our target.”

Cassian looked to the other side of the room. “Second team defends the Ministry. The Unspeakables are on our side. They’ll trigger a fake lockdown once Fudge and his lot bail. Look like the building’s full.

“If it works,” Cassian said, “we hit Voldemort’s forces clean. Cut off the heads.”

“And if it doesn’t?” That was from Goshawk.

Cassian met her gaze. “Then we find out what he’s really after.”

Bathsheda was still by the door, jaw tight.

Cassian looked across the room, catching every face.

“We’ve got one shot. We hold the school. We hold the Ministry. And we take the bastards down.”

Then he sighed, like he’d finally said the quiet part out loud. “If we’re lucky, we end the war today.”

***

Dumbledore stepped into the green flames with Cassian following. Kingsley and Magnus came next. Charity and Sinistra were behind them, and Aurora a step after. The Aurors took up the rear. Charity kept hold of Kingsley’s sleeve, fingers white-knuckled.

The Ministry’s main hall was quiet when they landed. An Unspeakable waited by the wall already.

Dumbledore nodded. “Miss Green. How is it?”

“They left for Hogsmeade. We evacuated everyone.”

Cassian gave a nod. “Let’s prepare.”

Olivia raised a hand. A line of light followed the motion, then flicked out. The floor trembled. Doors opened on their own.

Cassian glanced back at the group. “You know the plan.”

Everyone nodded.

Cassian cracked his knuckles

“Right,” he muttered, stepping forward. “Time to set the table.”

(Check Here)

Today is a great day to break old patterns. Maybe even… respond? No? I tried.

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