By the way, another person who's been getting thoroughly roasted is Dumbledore. As the headmaster of Hogwarts, he was nowhere to be found when the school needed him most—a clear dereliction of duty.
Even Harry couldn't defend him against Rita Skeeter's accusations this time, because, for once, she was telling the truth. The only thing Dumbledore had going for him over Fudge was that the owls sent to berate him couldn't pinpoint his location and had to return to their senders.
Fudge, on the other hand, was practically marinated in owl droppings by now.
Whether Fudge would stubbornly cling to his position as Minister of Magic or slink off in disgrace was no longer Harry's concern. After the Battle of Hogwarts, he and the other professors were busy scurrying around the castle, not only trying to repair the shattered structure but also dealing with an overwhelming number of… parents.
"Sorry, Professor, I have to go," Zacharias Smith said nervously, standing before Harry with his luggage already packed. "Hogwarts isn't safe anymore. My dad wants me to transfer to Beauxbatons."
"You're running away, Smith?" Katie Bell asked bluntly.
"Hey, girl, watch your mouth!" Smith's father snapped viciously. "Hogwarts isn't safe! I'm not leaving my son in a place like this—a dump where even the headmaster's gone AWOL and still hasn't shown up!"
"Don't you dare insult Dumbledore!" Katie shot back, furious. "Smith's a shaman apprentice too! We're working to purify Hogwarts—it's our duty and responsibility!"
"Then let your duty go to hell, little girl," Smith's father retorted without a hint of courtesy. "Come on, Zacharias, I've already booked the ship to France. We're not wasting any more time in this broken-down place."
"You—"
"Enough, Katie," Harry interrupted calmly. He turned to Zacharias, his expression serious. "Do you remember my first lesson? I won't stop anyone from leaving, but as long as you keep what I've taught you in your heart, that's enough."
"I will, Professor," Zacharias said, swallowing hard.
"Hey, watch how you talk, little professor," Smith's father interjected, stepping forward. "Zacharias isn't a Hogwarts student anymore, got it? What does it matter if he forgets your stupid lessons?"
"He'll die," Harry said coldly, fixing the man with a stare. "You can test that if you want."
Smith's father opened his mouth, his face flushing red with wounded pride. His fist clenched as if he might swing, but when he met Harry's eyes, he froze. An overwhelming pressure radiated from the young professor, who barely came up to his shoulder—a pressure he'd never felt from anyone else.
"…Let's go, Zacharias!" the man finally barked, snatching his son's suitcase and storming off. "This place is insane! Mad school! Mad professors!" he muttered incessantly as he left.
Zacharias glanced back at Harry and the others before turning and leaving without another word.
"Nice one, Professor," Katie said, shaking her fist at the retreating figures. "Those cowardly jerks—ugh!"
"No need to get so worked up, Katie," Harry said, shrugging it off. "We're not some cult that traps people here. As long as he doesn't use what I taught him for evil, I don't care."
"Alright, you're the professor, you call the shots," Katie said with a shrug.
Zacharias was the only one of Harry's shaman apprentices to leave Hogwarts, but Harry wasn't particularly upset about it. After all, he was just an ordinary apprentice, and Harry wasn't running some rigid Azeroth-style mentorship system. As long as Zacharias didn't break any laws, he was free to go.
The other apprentices, meanwhile, were buzzing with excitement. They darted around the castle daily, eagerly using Purified Water to cleanse every trace of Fel magic and demonic corruption.
Aside from Zacharias, several other students had already been pulled from Hogwarts by their parents. They couldn't bear the thought of their children staying in a school that had been attacked by demons. From Death Eaters to Basilisks to demons, these parents had had enough of Hogwarts' dangers.
There was no right or wrong in these choices. The students who stayed were undeniably brave, but those who left weren't to be blamed either. Hogwarts was a school, and expecting students to face dangers beyond their studies was fundamentally wrong.
For Harry, though, the more pressing issue was Ginny. Ron and his brothers came to him almost daily, asking about her condition. Having been possessed by two of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and with Harry still a learner in the wizarding magical system, he couldn't confirm—without Dumbledore—whether Ginny was free of Voldemort's lingering influence.
"So, you're saying that on the day of the demon invasion, you were in the Headmaster's office destroying two Horcruxes?" Professor McGonagall asked, taking a deep breath. "Voldemort's Horcruxes?"
"Yes," Harry nodded. "Lockhart wasn't the real demon summoner—Voldemort was. His Horcruxes corrupted Lockhart, turning him into a sacrificial pawn and a beacon for the demons. One of the Horcruxes even used Fel magic to transform itself into a new demon."
"Merlin's socks," Professor Flitwick said, clutching his forehead. "I never imagined that day could get any worse. I thought demons in the castle were bad enough."
"So, your injuries were because of her?" Snape said expressionlessly, glancing at Ginny, who stood silently beside them. The girl, now aware of what had happened to her, clung fearfully to Harry's sleeve, hiding behind him.
"I didn't expect two Horcruxes, so I was caught off guard," Harry admitted frankly. "There's no need to blame Ginny. The poor girl has no memory of anything since the start of term. When she woke up, she thought it was still her first day at Hogwarts."
"Oh, poor dear," Flitwick said immediately. "She's got a lot of catching up to do… assuming she's physically alright."
"That's why I asked you all here," Harry said with a sigh. "I'm still learning wizarding magic, and with Dumbledore missing and unreachable, I need your help to check if Ginny's still affected by Voldemort's Horcruxes."
"Your divination can't find Dumbledore either?" McGonagall asked.
"Nothing," Harry said, puzzled. "It's like he's trapped somewhere. I can only sense he's probably alive, but we can't wait for him forever. Ginny can't stay locked in my trunk indefinitely, and I haven't even told Ron and the others to inform Mr. and Mrs. Weasley yet."
"Understandable," McGonagall nodded, turning to Ginny, who was still hiding behind Harry. "Don't worry, dear. It's just a check—it won't be dangerous."
What followed was a thorough, no-stone-unturned examination by Hogwarts' expert professors, covering everything from common spells to obscure potions. With Voldemort involved, they weren't taking any chances.
After confirming there were no lingering effects, McGonagall finally informed Mrs. Weasley. Only then did the Weasleys learn the full extent of what had happened to their youngest daughter.
Harry received a massive hug.
"Thank you, thank you, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said, her voice breaking with emotion. "I can't believe—if we'd lost her—oh, Merlin!"
"Don't worry, Mum," Ron chimed in. "Ginny's fine now."
"And you lot!" Mrs. Weasley whirled on her sons. "An entire term, and you didn't notice anything wrong with your sister?!"
"No need to blame Ron and the others, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, defending his friend. "Ginny was possessed by Voldemort's soul fragments. With his cunning, he wouldn't let anything slip in front of them."
"Vol… You-Know-Who's soul fragments?" Mr. Weasley's hair seemed to stand on end. He'd never imagined his little girl could be connected to something so terrifying.
"This," Harry said, pulling a tattered black diary from his pocket.
"A notebook?" Even McGonagall was hearing this for the first time.
"His diary!" Ginny sobbed, clinging to her mother. "I kept writing in it, and he wrote back—"
"Ginny!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, stunned. "Haven't I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself unless you know where it keeps its brain! Why didn't you show this to me or your mother? Something this suspicious is obviously full of Dark Magic!"
"I didn't know!" Ginny cried harder. "I found it in one of Mum's books—I thought it was just—"
"It's alright," Harry said to McGonagall. "Ginny shouldn't be punished, right? She didn't know anything—she was just possessed."
"Even as deputy headmistress, I know Dumbledore wouldn't punish a child for this," McGonagall said, her tone softening. "During the darkest times, even clever adult wizards were deceived by You-Know-Who, let alone a young girl like her."
"So, Dumbledore really isn't at Hogwarts?" Mrs. Weasley said, unable to hold back. "Even with everything that's happened—his students threatened by monsters, the school in ruins—he's still not here?"
They were sitting in McGonagall's heavily damaged office, and the Weasleys had seen the castle's dilapidated state on their way in.
"I can't make excuses for Dumbledore," Harry sighed. "But I believe he's either doing something critical or trapped by some unknown enemy. You've seen how chaotic the world has been lately."
"…Alright, we understand," Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh. "It's Dumbledore, after all. There are so many things in the world that need his attention… I just wish he'd focus a bit more on his actual job. The children are what matter most, aren't they?"
"Absolutely."
Both McGonagall and Harry agreed.
The demons' defeat didn't mean things were over. If anything, Harry was busier than ever. Hogwarts' corruption needed cleansing, the school's reconstruction required massive amounts of materials, and even the Board of Governors insisted McGonagall bring Harry to their meetings.
Because, whether some wizards liked it or not, with Dumbledore missing, Harry Potter—not McGonagall or the other seasoned professors—was the one best equipped to protect Hogwarts and its students.
That made Harry's input vital.
Power brought influence.
"So, these demons—they won't come back to our world, right?" Hector Parkinson, Pansy's father and a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, asked Harry in a meeting room filled with antique furnishings.
Admittedly, Pansy's father had a bit more sense than she did.
"How can you guarantee that?"
Well, maybe not much.
"How can I guarantee that?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Let me put it this way, Mr. Parkinson. Say a thief is eyeing an antique in your house. You've set up protective spells and stay vigilant, but you can't guard every corner of your home, and your magic has gaps. That thief could slip through at any moment to steal your treasure. How do you ensure they never succeed?"
"You'd probably have to kill the thief," a Ravenclaw-born governor chimed in. "Otherwise, no one can stay on guard forever."
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