Hogwarts: Harry Potter's Return from the Witcher World

Pius Thicknesse.

He had worked diligently at the Ministry of Magic for over twenty years. It wasn't about ability—like most ordinary employees, he had risen through the ranks by seniority.

Mature and steady.

He might have made a decent Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, much like the current head, Amelia Bones.

But he had no ambition to become Minister of Magic—especially not now.

If he couldn't quell public dissatisfaction and resolve this situation, even if he became Minister, he wouldn't hold the position for long.

What came easily could be lost just as easily.

Scrimgeour clenched his fists, standing stiffly like Fudge, glaring at Thicknesse, who had walked behind the long table and stood in front of the blackboard, preparing to give a brief inaugural speech. Scrimgeour had spent months preparing, confident in his abilities—at least, he had a good relationship with Mr. Potter.

But Thicknesse? Quiet, unassuming.

How did he do it?

How did he secure the support of more than half the votes?

Thicknesse spoke eloquently, his pace steady as always, but composed, as if he had rehearsed in his mind beforehand.

He had prepared for this.

Scrimgeour frowned.

He was the only one actively preparing for the Ministerial position. Thicknesse had shown no signs of taking action. If he had, it should not have escaped Scrimgeour's notice—fifty votes were far too many to go unnoticed.

He checked his watch.

From the start of the assembly to the final selection of the Minister, an hour and a half had passed.

Had Thicknesse consumed anything during this time?

It didn't seem like it.

His presence was so subtle that no one had paid attention.

Moody had always said that an Auror must be reasonably suspicious of everything—what the eyes and magic perceived wasn't necessarily reality. Not everyone was as powerful as Professor Dumbledore. As one of the finest Aurors in the Office, Scrimgeour had inherited Moody's caution.

Thicknesse's behavior was too abnormal.

Scrimgeour began to wonder—was this "Mr. Thicknesse" even himself anymore?

After all, the man he once admired most, Barty Crouch Sr., had also been suspected of being replaced.

Time gradually eroded some of his suspicions.

Thicknesse seemed born for the Minister's seat. He gave a long-winded, uninspired speech—one that Fudge, had he still been in that position, would have delivered in exactly the same way, word for word.

He talked for over an hour.

Without pausing for water or a break.

After an hour of enduring the speech, Scrimgeour was certain that "Mr. Thicknesse" wasn't an imposter using Polyjuice Potion. Unable to suppress his drowsiness, he struggled to focus, while others listened attentively.

As if it were some profound, world-altering wisdom.

Even though it was the same rhetoric, only spoken by a different person.

The meeting lasted until six in the evening.

The most critical matters—Fudge's impeachment and the election of the new Minister—had taken just over an hour.

At Hogwarts, in Sirius Black's office.

Harry and his friends were preparing for Christmas.

"You've been doing dueling training in the abandoned second-floor classroom every weekend since the start of term?" Sirius slammed his hands on the desk, gritting his teeth as he stood up.

Harry nodded.

"I knew something was off about Filch!" Sirius slammed the desk again. "Whenever it was my turn to patrol at night, he always found an excuse to stop me from going there!"

"He kept blaming Peeves' pranks!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "To be fooled by Filch—godfather, that's impressive."

"Hey, he is a Hogwarts staff member." Sirius defended himself. "As a colleague, I had to trust him."

"Anyway, what's this dueling training about?"

Harry replied, "An extracurricular study group."

"You need a qualified instructor," Sirius said, eager to join.

Harry calmly placed his wand on the table and looked at him.

Hermione shook her head. "Sirius, you're not suited for this. You're a professor."

"We..."

She hesitated. "We are students breaking school rules and sneaking out after curfew. If a professor saw us, they'd have to take points away."

Although, they often ran into Professor McGonagall on late-night patrols, Professor Trelawney sneaking wine from the kitchens, or Professor Binns sleepwalking.

None of them ever deducted points.

"Alright, Harry." Sirius sighed, grumbling. "At least you still thought of me when it came to catching Greyback."

"If I didn't invite you, you'd throw a fit," Harry said bluntly.

"I am not that childish!" Sirius growled.

Harry paused, then continued, "A skilled Animagus master is very useful against werewolves."

Sirius huffed, wagging his tail—though it hadn't fully transformed yet.

He looked around the office. "Are they all going?"

Hermione, Ron, and Neville.

Harry glanced at them before nodding. "Werewolves aren't too hard to handle. I contacted Tonks this afternoon—she should reply by tonight or tomorrow. She'll probably bring a team of Aurors, and then—"

An owl swooped in, dropping a letter.

Tonks had scribbled her surname carelessly on the envelope.

"Tonks replied." Harry opened the letter, frowning at its contents. "Hermione, Ron—the Aurors probably won't be able to support us. The risk has increased. Do you still want to go?"

"No Auror support?" Hermione was stunned.

Harry nodded, handing her the letter. "The Minister has changed. The way this was handled—quickly, decisively—it's not the Ministry's usual style."

"Scrimgeour had a good relationship with you..." Sirius frowned.

"The new Minister isn't Scrimgeour." Harry shook his head. "It's Pius Thicknesse."

"Who?" Sirius blinked, looking confused.

Harry didn't know either. He had never heard of the name before.

"I know," Ron spoke up. "My dad mentioned him once—an old veteran at the Ministry, head of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. He's a decent guy, strict but fair."

"Magical Law Enforcement Squad?" Sirius scoffed.

"The Ministry has that department?" Neville muttered.

Sirius shook his head. "You might as well pretend it doesn't exist."

"Most magical incidents are handled by the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. If it involves Muggles, it's the Muggle Liaison Office or the Obliviators."

"And magical law enforcement? That's Auror work."

"It's a department that looks powerful but has no real authority."

He hesitated. "Why him? I always thought Scrimgeour would be a strong successor."

"But it really is this Thicknesse guy," Hermione muttered, frowning. "And he's ambitious. He's preparing to deal with Azkaban. The Dementors revolted, and he personally led a team to suppress them."

"For the next month, most Aurors will be stationed at Azkaban to reorganize it."

"The rest will patrol Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, hunting escaped Death Eaters."

She smirked coldly. "At the very least, they need to make the public believe the Ministry is protecting them—to stabilize the situation quickly."

"For Christmas, only Kingsley and Tonks might be able to help us."

"Two Aurors, only one of them elite." Sirius counted on his fingers. "We might struggle to protect—"

"Sirius." Hermione interrupted. "We're not here as spectators."

"Under Professor Potter's guidance, we've made great progress. We can protect ourselves."

She turned to Neville and then Ron, her gaze lingering. "I've prepared for this. I need to prove I belong in this fight."

"This isn't a joke. Werewolves are dangerous. One bite, and you turn into one."

"Harry is doing this for Remus."

"Even if the Aurors don't come, with Harry, Greyback won't escape."

Harry nodded. "I respect and understand your choices."

"I'm going," Neville said firmly, gripping the sword at his waist. "I'm a Gryffindor. Gryffindors are warriors—we don't fear anything."

"I'm not a little kid anymore," Ron added. "Harry, I'm your friend—your comrade in battle."

"I can't always live under your protection."

"Even Hermione is stepping up—I'm a Gryffindor too, so I—"

Hermione's gaze turned sharp. "What do you mean by 'even Hermione'?"

"Ron, I've always done better than you in dueling class."

"That's not what I meant," Ron said hurriedly, tugging at his hair in frustration. "I mean, um—"

"He means that Hermione, in his mind, should be protected by Harry," Sirius summarized, his tone knowing. He had seen this dynamic play out before—he had witnessed James and Lily's relationship unfold just like this.

Ron nodded vigorously. "Exactly! That's what I meant."

"I'm a Gryffindor too," Hermione looked at Harry, her cheeks slightly flushed, and took a deep breath. "I don't want to be some delicate little songbird. If I can't even protect myself, I'd just be a burden."

Sirius' expression turned nostalgic. "Hermione, you remind me more of Lily than Harry does—at least in personality."

----------

Powerstones?

For 20 advance Chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates