Chapter 25

Harry apparated to the meeting place without his guards. The construction site, which stood before him, stretched across three blocks. It was a patchwork of scaffolding and rubble now where once an opulent neighborhood had stood. He walked towards Hermione, who was already at the entrance of the site with a clipboard in hand as well as a hard hat. He took the extra one she offered while admiring the detailed masonry of the old buildings.

"These buildings," Harry murmured as they walked. "Even after all this time, the craftsmanship is splendid. I like how the restoration is going so far. The Goblin Masons you employed seemed to have a keen eye for the Baroque style. It really feels like we're bringing dignity back to this place."

"That's the goal. This neighborhood was once an opulent mix of Muggle and Wizarding wealthy families and thriving businesses." Hermione remarked. "As you know, after the Statute of Secrecy was put into effect, this entire neighbourhood became Wizarding-owned. Sadly, the World Wars changed everything. The First World War gutted the economy. Factories closed, men never returned home, and families who had once been secure were forced to sell properties. Then the Second World War struck harder. Bombings destroyed a lot of the infrastructure, while rationing crippled trade, and the rebuilding efforts focused elsewhere." Hermione shook her head. "It's sad to see Districts like this, which were left behind. What remained was poverty layered on neglect." She then pointed to a building in the distance. "Did you know that was an Opera house? It supposedly opened in 1796. It was one of the older public buildings that survived the London Blitz, but squatters had gutted it."

Hermione glanced at her clipboard. She flipped through several notes before saying, "I've amended the report as you asked. It took time to track everyone down, but many squatters have been safely relocated to shelters and other areas. Others sold us the land outright and used the money to move outside of London."

Harry nodded, and then he paused before a shopfront. Its faded lettering was just visible beneath years of grime. Borgin and Burke were what he could finally make out.

Hermione's lips tightened as she looked at the now gutted shop. "That place was notorious," she stated. "They sold all kinds of dark artifacts that had no business being made public. When we cleaned up the Ministry, we also found years of bribes through the Auror corps that kept this place running," she continued. "Some rumors even said that Voldemort had a part-time job here."

Harry muttered under his breath that he wouldn't be surprised if that was true. Hermione was ready to continue with her tour when the sharp cracks of multiple apparitions could be heard along the street.

Both froze, and their hands instinctively reached for their wands. Hermione tossed her clipboard aside as she scanned the area.

From the shadows, figures emerged. Men and women, their eyes black as the night with veins crawling across their faces and necks like an ink spill. And then, from the center of the group, Dumbledore stepped forward. Or rather, something wearing Dumbledore's form. His once twinkling eyes were pools of the same darkness as the others, his face marred by the same black veins.

"Mr. Potter," the voice rasped in a distorted way as he looked at Harry and then at Hermione. It all felt so... wrong. "Miss Granger."

Hermione didn't hesitate. She fired the first spell straight at the twisted headmaster, then yanked Harry by the arm into the dilapidated Borgin and Burke shop. The rickety door slammed shut behind them as curses struck the walls and glass, sending dust and shards raining down on them.

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione shouted. From her wand, a silver otter burst forth. She dictated a message, and it darted out of the shop. But before it could escape, Dumbledore raised his wand. The otter dissolved into smoke, snuffed out as though it had never existed.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "That shouldn't be possible!" she uttered while simultaneously ducking as a volley of spells shattered the shop's windows. A streak of green light sailed past her head, scorching the wall behind.

Harry crouched beside her, "I can't apparate us," he said. "They've put up anti-apparition wards. We're trapped."

"Then we fight!" Hermione said as she rose slightly. She conjured a shield to deflect a volley of spells. Meanwhile, Harry countered with blasts of Expulso, sending Dumbledore's lackies crashing into the rubble.

But more kept pouring in. Suddenly, Hermione's voice rang out, "Protego Diabolica!"

Blue and black flames erupted around them, forming a protective circle. The corrupted pawns who rushed towards them screamed as the fire consumed them. The bodies were incinerated before they could cross the barrier, and their screams echoed through the air.

Harry's eyes widened. "Hermione!"

"It's the only way to hold all of them back!"

For a moment, it worked. The enemy hesitated, and their advance was halted. Dumbledore's twisted form lingered at the edge, though, as he mainly just stared at Harry.

Then the air shifted. Powerful magic descended. It was heavy and suffocating, causing Hermione to nearly gag as raw magic flooded the room.

From the shadows, Oberon emerged and, with a flick of his hand, the blue flames sputtered, then snuffed out as though they had never existed.

"Fuck!" Hermione staggered back while trying to breathe. Her eyes had widened upon seeing her spell so casually extinguished. Harry knew it was bad as Hermione was known to never curse. Even when certain court meetings became a shit show, she had always kept her composure.

Oberon's gaze fixed on her. It was calculating. Then his frown deepened. "An elemental. How quant," he muttered, more to himself. "The little mortal thinks she's on par with my powers?"

Harry stepped in front of Hermione with his wand raised. "Stay away from her."

The fae's expression hardened. Then he turned towards Dumbledore, who had slinked back and was bowing slightly to his 'master'. "This bores me now. Kill her." He ordered in a cold, commanding tone.