A black porcelain bottle held colorless Veritaserum. A yellow parchment file was filled with interrogation transcripts. Beside it, an evidence booklet showed frontal photos of three Obscurials and Second Salem dark wizards—pale, shadowy faces with venomous eyes.
In the French Ministry of Magic's Auror Office, Melvin and Christine, the key figures in the case, were finalizing their statements. Mr. Bonheur and Mr. Graves handled the documentation.
As heroes who'd subdued dark wizards and Obscurials, they were invited to the Ministry to give statements. The Veritaserum on the table wasn't for them—it was left from interrogating the dark wizards and Obscurials. Melvin sniffed lightly; it had a faint smell. He thought it paled compared to Snape's brew.
"Melvin, this is an invitation from the French Ministry for a commendation. Mr. Bonheur applied for you to receive the First-Class Order of Valor," Graves said.
Bonheur handed over an elegant letter with the French tricolor emblem.
The French Order of Valor was akin to Britain's Order of Merlin, honoring wizards for outstanding contributions. France's rich history gave it more weight than smaller nations' ministries, which often had to apply for Merlin awards through Britain.
"When's the ceremony?" Melvin looked intrigued.
"All Saints' Day holiday in November."
"Hogwarts doesn't have breaks around then—I probably can't attend." Melvin shook his head, not too bothered. The medal wasn't the point; the case had opened doors in the French Ministry, smoothing the way for Floo Network upgrades by the Transportation Department.
"What's the deal with the dark wizards and Obscurials? How's the interrogation going?" he asked.
"We confirmed the dark wizards are Purifiers. We got the locations of other cultists from them," Graves said. "The Auror Bureau's on their trail. They don't have Obscurials with them, so we expect to wrap this up in two days."
"When's the trial?" Christine asked.
"Look down—they're already in the courtroom." Graves tapped his wand on the walnut desk. The office furnishings slid aside, revealing a French tricolor emblem inlaid in the floor.
Beneath the iconic Phrygian cap was frosted magical glass, a skylight into the courtroom below. You could see the prisoners from above, but they couldn't see up.
Robed judges loomed high, their faces obscured. The four defendants were caged, weighed down by heavy shackles.
Given the destruction caused by the dark wizards and Obscurials, plus their prior crimes, the court sentenced the dark wizard and an Obscurial named Picani to death. The other two Obscurials, who cooperated and confessed, got life imprisonment.
Due to their unique nature, the Obscurials would be sent to a special prison for 5X-level magical creatures.
"Death or life imprisonment makes little difference for those two Obscurials. Their frontal lobes were lobotomized, leaving severe mental issues. They're trapped in their own minds, barely able to interact with the world. Their thoughts are conditioned—almost like trained dogs, following any orders given," Graves said, sighing.
His feelings about the Obscurials were mixed—they were victims and perpetrators.
After learning their stories, many wizards pitied them, even considered freeing the less guilty two. But the volatile, ferocious power of an Obscurus led the court to choose confinement.
"Few Obscurials live past ten—they probably won't either," Graves said, staring at their photos. So young, not even school age, yet their lives were over, marked by inhumane torment.
His fist clenched, voice low. "This time, we took down a major Second Salem hideout and cleared out Purifier remnants. They're down to a few rats hiding in Mexico, too scared to show themselves. Mr. Bonheur and I agreed: at next year's International Confederation of Wizards meeting, MACUSA and the French Ministry will lead a joint task force to wipe these scum out for good."
The Confederation met every four years, with global wizard representatives planning the magical world's future. Dumbledore, the chair and Britain's delegate, had held the role for years—last meeting, he was so bored he dozed off.
Bonheur stayed silent, the only one not understanding English. His expression was odd, frequently glancing at Melvin.
Melvin sipped the Auror Bureau's special French coffee—still awful. Noticing Graves and Bonheur's dark circles, he figured neither had slept in days.
Did wizards ever die from overwork?
"…" Bonheur muttered something in garbled French, sounding like he had phlegm stuck in his throat.
"What'd he say?" Melvin asked.
"He's asking about the other Obscurial—the girl we met at Père Lachaise, Bastard," Graves said, subtly watching Melvin's reaction. "Interrogations confirmed a young Obscurial. They tracked her scent to the museum, where she met the Grangers. During the fight, Bastard blocked the other Obscurials' attacks."
"You're asking me?" Melvin threw up his hands. "Who do I ask?"
"It's not our call. The dark wizard said your student, Hermione Granger, has a connection to Bastard. Could we ask Miss Granger and her family to visit the Ministry? She might know something."
Graves quickly clarified, worried Melvin would misunderstand. "It's not an interrogation. Mr. Bonheur guarantees no harsh measures—just thinks she might have clues."
"Are you hearing yourself?" Melvin leaned back, tilting his head at the Aurors. "You're saying a regular young witch, vacationing in Paris, with no prior ties to Second Salem or the Purifiers, somehow befriended a fugitive Obscurial in no time?"
Graves translated for Bonheur. They mulled it over but couldn't argue back.
"But… the dark wizard's statement…" Graves tried.
"The dark wizards were hunting impressionable young witches to cruelly turn them into Obscurials. They targeted Hogwarts students traveling abroad, putting the Grangers in danger," Melvin said, tapping the desk. "And that danger stems from the French Ministry's negligence. You ignored MACUSA's warnings from Woolworth Building, shirked responsibility, and even when Mr. Graves showed up at Place Fürstenberg, you brushed him off. High-ranking officials took bribes to block the investigation. Now you want to hassle an innocent victim—a young witch?"
"That's not what we meant," Graves said.
"The dark wizard's word proves nothing. Like you told us that day, show real evidence."
"…"
Bonheur was at a loss. He'd said that to appease higher-ups, hadn't he? Didn't he let them access the archives, nudge them when the investigation stalled, and approve their Beauxbatons contact?
Christine spoke up. "Professor Levent's point reflects the Rozier family and Beauxbatons' stance. The Ministry should take responsibility, not harass a thirteen-year-old student."
"We'll investigate ourselves. As for Miss Granger and her family's losses, the Ministry will compensate them and won't disturb their summer vacation further," Bonheur said, his smile bitter. As an Auror captain, he was caught in the middle of this damn bureaucratic system. After this case, he'd push for a promotion—let someone else take the heat.
As they left the office, Graves flipped through the file's photos. The oval scars on the two Obscurials' foreheads stood out. He recalled the little girl from that day—not fully brainwashed, not blindly obedient. When her collar broke, she'd transformed in some way.
He wasn't sure why Melvin was shielding Bastard, but his gut said she wasn't a vicious monster.
"Same old Levent… always finding loopholes in the law," Graves muttered, closing the photos.
…
On the hotel suite's balcony, Hermione skimmed a local wizarding newspaper, translated into English. The front-page headline read: The Obscurials from Across the Sea, detailing the Louvre attack.
The photo showed the wrecked Louvre pyramid, Aurors scattered about, repairing Muggle structures. Images of the dark wizard and three Obscurials followed, their faces blank, their hollow eyes staring through the page.
"Nothing about us?" Mr. Granger called from behind. "No one cares about your mom's and my heroic charge? We rushed those dark wizards like Don Quixote—or, in wizard terms, like Cadogan!"
"To minimize our exposure, the Ministry suppressed our involvement to protect us from retaliation," Hermione said, looking up. "And your charge wasn't heroic. It did nothing against the dark wizards, but it scared me half to death—my heart practically stopped."
"My little Hermione…" Mr. Granger pulled her into a hug. "We haven't even scolded you for trying to face the danger alone, leaving us behind. Are you sorry?"
"Mmph…" Hermione's face was buried in his shirt, her words muffled.
Mr. Granger didn't need to hear to know her answer. He ruffled her hair as punishment, then picked up the paper, flipping to the second page. The headline read: France's Savior, the Mysterious Wizard from the Mirror.
"So it was Professor Levent who saved us. What a coincidence!" Mr. Granger scratched his head, his sparse hair catching the light. "Taking down dark wizards, burning three Obscurials with fire magic… Why highlight dark magic? The wording's odd, like the gratitude and praise are forced."
The article's photo showed the young professor's back, shot from a low angle, making him look towering and imposing.
The text was strange, emphasizing the fire and noting Fiendfyre as dark magic, hinting at something.
"Because Fiendfyre is dark magic—really evil stuff. Only the Unforgivable Curses are worse. The flames consume everything they touch, burning endlessly. If Fiendfyre spreads large-scale, no one can stop it," Hermione said, sticking out her tongue. "Fifty years ago, a wizard unleashed Fiendfyre in Paris, nearly reducing the city to ashes."
"Sounds wicked, but it's just the spell that's evil. Professor Levent was facing cultist dark wizards—using a sharp spell makes sense. You always talk about him: kind, patient with students, promoting Muggle culture. How could a wizard like that be dark?" Mr. Granger shook his head. "These Paris reporters are something else."
"Can't fully blame them. Professor Levent's magic…" Hermione defended the reporters, recalling her own panic, thinking he might've burned Bastienne along with the Obscurials.
"When's Professor Levent free? I'd love to thank him properly," Mr. Granger said.
Hermione sighed. "No idea. He just told us to take care of Bastienne and that he'd handle the Ministry so we wouldn't be bothered."
"Speaking of, your mom and Bastienne should be back soon, right?" Mr. Granger set down the paper. "Just grabbing dinner from the restaurant shouldn't take long."
As he spoke, the sound of a keycard swiped at the door.
"Mom, Bastienne!" Hermione rushed to greet them.
Mr. Granger tucked away the wizarding paper and ambled over. In the hallway, the two carried bags of takeout. The Granger parents froze.
They'd been at the hotel nearly a week and had ordered takeout before, knowing Bastienne's appetite was big. But seeing her arms laden with enough food for ten—plus ice cream and mousse cakes—they were stunned.
"Bastienne said she used up too much energy that day, so she's hungrier," Mrs. Granger said, exasperated. "She swears she can eat it all."
"Don't forget to brush your teeth after," Mr. Granger said, tweaking Bastienne's nose. They didn't understand magic, but they remembered how she held off three "monsters," buying them time.
Bastienne sniffed, nodding firmly, her blue eyes gleaming.
Despite everything, they were willing to adopt her, never blaming her for the danger or shunning her for being an Obscurial.