HP-A New Future

I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.

https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon

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Chapter 26: Shadows in the Ministry

Alastor Moody stormed into the Ministry of Magic, his wooden leg thudding against the marble floor with each purposeful step. The alarms still blared, echoing through the wide halls. Witches and wizards scurried like ants, their panic palpable as they whispered about the attack. His magical eye swiveled in all directions, scanning for threats even as his normal eye focused on the junior Auror who had come to greet him.

"Report," Moody barked, his voice a low growl that silenced the young man before him.

"Sir," the Auror stammered, clutching his wand tightly, "it's bad. Seven dead in Augustus Rookwood's office, sir. Looks like someone broke in, took them all out, and vanished."

Moody's lips curled into a grim line. "Seven dead? And you didn't stop them?"

"They were gone before anyone could respond," the Auror admitted, shame coloring his cheeks. "Whoever it was, they didn't trigger any alarms until after they'd finished."

"Efficient," Moody muttered. His magical eye whirred, scanning the floors and walls as if the perpetrator might still be lurking. "Lead me to the scene."

The Auror nodded quickly and led the way, Moody's team of hardened Aurors following closely. As they approached the Department of Mysteries, the signs of a magical skirmish became clear. Scorch marks marred the walls, the faint stench of burned magic lingered in the air, and a few stunned Ministry employees were being revived by mediwizards.

Moody's magical eye caught the faint glow of conjured restraints left behind, scattered across the floor near the entrance. His scowl deepened. "Whoever did this, they didn't just kill—they controlled the fight from start to finish."

They reached Rookwood's office, its door ajar. Moody pushed it open with his wand, stepping inside carefully. The scene was gruesome.

Seven bodies lay sprawled across the floor, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and terror. Rookwood sat slumped against the far wall, his lifeless hand still gripping his wand. The desk was overturned, papers and artifacts scattered across the room, and deep scorch marks riddled the walls—a testament to the sheer power unleashed here.

Moody crouched beside Rookwood's body, his magical eye zooming in on the man's hand. Something caught his attention, and he grabbed the wrist, rolling back the sleeve.

There it was.

The Dark Mark, stark against Rookwood's pale skin.

"Well, well," Moody muttered, his tone grim. "Rookwood was a Death Eater all along. The bastard's been feeding information to You-Know-Who right under our noses."

The Aurors behind him gasped. "Are you sure, sir?" one of them asked, stepping closer to see for themselves.

"See for yourself," Moody said, letting the arm drop back to the floor. "Explains why this office was targeted. Someone knew what he was and decided to do what the Ministry couldn't—or wouldn't."

He straightened, his magical eye scanning the rest of the room. The scorch marks, the shattered glass, the precise placement of the bodies—it all painted a picture.

"This wasn't a brawl," Moody said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "This was calculated. Controlled. Whoever did this let these fools kill themselves with their own spells. Reflected curses, redirected hexes... this was the work of someone who knows how to fight smart."

One of the younger Aurors, a grizzled man named Dawlish, stepped forward. "You think this is the same wizard from the Diagon Alley attack?"

Moody didn't answer immediately. His magical eye swiveled over the scene, picking up faint traces of magical residue. The precision, the skill, the ruthless efficiency—it all felt eerily familiar.

"Could be," he admitted at last. "The one who took out the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley was just as careful. No wasted movements, no unnecessary casualties. Whoever they are, they're no amateur. And they're not afraid to get their hands dirty."

Another Auror frowned. "But why leave the other Aurors alive? They didn't harm anyone else in the Ministry. Just these seven."

"Because it's not about killing for the sake of killing," Moody said, his tone sharp. "This was a statement. Rookwood and his spies were a problem, and now they're not. The rest of the Ministry? They were just in the way."

He gestured to the bodies, his magical eye fixed on Rookwood. "Whoever did this isn't working for the Death Eaters, that's for damn sure. But they're not with us, either. They're playing their own game, and we'd better figure out what it is before we're next."

The room fell silent as the Aurors exchanged uneasy glances.

"What do we do now, sir?" Dawlish asked.

Moody turned to his team, his magical eye still scanning the room for any overlooked details. "Seal this office off. I want every piece of magical residue analyzed. Check the wands, the bodies, the walls—everything. And get the morgue ready. I want a full autopsy on each of these poor sods."

As the Aurors began their work, Moody lingered in the doorway, his thoughts racing.

Whoever this mysterious wizard was, they had left an unmistakable mark on the Ministry tonight. But more than that, they had left a message—one Moody could read loud and clear.

The Ministry wasn't as secure as it thought. Its enemies weren't just external; they were within its very walls.

And somewhere out there, a lone wizard was moving pieces on a chessboard only he could see.

"Who are you?" Moody muttered under his breath as he turned to leave.

But deep down, he already suspected the answer. The same wizard who had turned the tide in Diagon Alley was the one who had walked into the Ministry tonight, defied its defenses, and left unscathed.

The Ministry was scrambling, Voldemort's Death Eaters were shaken, and Moody couldn't help but feel that this mysterious figure—whoever he was—might just be the key to ending the war.