The Ministry of Magic's Spark and the Return Journey of the Orange Cake

On the morning of July 15th, London was shrouded in a hazy, drizzling mist, the air damp and chilly. In a secluded alley near King's Cross Station, rain pattered against the glass roof of an abandoned phone booth. Linley, wearing a neatly pressed dark green robe (Aunt Monica had spent the night altering Uncle Wendell's old one to fit him), looked even paler than usual in the gloomy weather. Hermione stayed close to him, holding a large umbrella with one hand and gripping his wrist tightly with the other, as if afraid he might be taken away by the Ministry of Magic at any moment. She wore a long dress made from her best brown school robe, her hair meticulously styled. Her eyes, however, were like a drawn bowstring, filled with vigilance.

The time read 9:50 AM. Steady footsteps approached from the alley entrance. Dumbledore's tall figure appeared through the rain, his silver-white beard and hair still striking against the gray sky. The sapphire blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles swept over the two children, who were on high alert, with a deep sense of reassurance.

"Good morning, children," his voice was gentle, dispelling some of the gloom of the rainy day. "It seems we'll need to use the Ministry's special passage." He walked to the dilapidated red phone booth, picked up the receiver, and said clearly, "The Ministry of Magic."

A muffled mechanical whirring sound came from inside the phone booth, and it began to slowly descend! Hermione instinctively tightened her grip on Linley's arm. Linley, in turn, placed his hand over hers, his fingertips icy cold but conveying an undeniable, steady strength. The sensation of descent lasted for several tens of seconds. When the vibration stopped, the phone booth door slid open automatically, revealing a sudden, vast expanse—

A colossal, dizzying underground atrium unfolded before them! The peacock-blue ceiling soared into the "sky," inlaid with shimmering golden runes, like a true magical starry night. The dark wooden walls were adorned with constantly shifting, whispering magical portraits. Wizards in various robes hurried past, traversing the polished, mirror-like black marble floor. Green flames occasionally erupted from fireplaces, spitting out figures in a hurry. The air was filled with the scent of parchment, Floo Powder, and a cold, distinctive aroma belonging to an institution of power.

"The Department of Mysteries is on the ninth floor," Dumbledore said calmly, as if merely taking them on a tour of an ordinary museum. He led them through the crowded, noisy atrium, ignoring the curious, scrutinizing, or subtly hostile gazes cast their way, heading towards a row of golden elevators.

The elevator interior was narrow. The golden grille door closed with a crisp click. A cold female voice announced, "Ninth Floor, Department of Mysteries. Authorized personnel only." The elevator shot upwards with extreme speed, causing a brief sensation of weightlessness. Hermione felt the fingers covering her hand on Linley's tighten slightly.

The corridor on the ninth floor was starkly different from the clamor of the atrium below. The dark gray stone walls were cold and solemn, the light dim, with only a dimly burning blue torch every so often along the walls. The air was exceptionally quiet, with only the footsteps of the three of them echoing in the vast corridor, carrying a suffocating sense of pressure. Countless identical, unmarked black wooden doors lined the corridor. An indescribable chill and low, whispering energy fluctuations emanated from the cracks beneath the doors, as if the deepest secrets of the universe were hidden behind them.

The door to Hearing Room Seven slid open silently. The room was not large, circular, with walls of an unfathomable black that seemed to absorb light. In the center stood a single, cold metal table and three chairs of the same material. At the far end of the table sat three people.

In the center was a severe-looking witch with her hair neatly tied in a gray bun. She wore a dark purple robe trimmed with gold, her sharp gaze like a spotlight, instantly locking onto Linley as he entered. On her chest was a badge signifying her position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—Amelia Bones. To her left sat a stout wizard with a small mustache and a false, amiable smile—Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. To Fudge's right was a pale-faced wizard with shifty eyes, like a startled mouse—Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge, wearing a pink bow and a sickeningly sweet smile.

The air in the room seemed frozen. An invisible pressure pressed against them like a tangible wall.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," Bones's voice was like the scraping of cold metal, devoid of any pleasantries. "Please sit. And this is Mr. Linley Evans?" Her sharp gaze fixed on Linley, filled with undisguised scrutiny and assessment. "And... Miss Granger?" She looked at Hermione, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, clearly surprised by the presence of a minor witness.

"Director Bones, Minister Fudge," Dumbledore nodded slightly and took the seat opposite Linley with ease, his posture as relaxed as if he were having afternoon tea. "Yes, this is Linley Evans. As Miss Granger is a direct participant and key witness to the event, I believe her presence is crucial to clarifying the truth. Of course, I will act as Mr. Evans' temporary guardian and supervise the questioning process." His words were calm but carried undeniable weight, skillfully addressing Hermione's age and emphasizing her importance.

Fudge's smile froze for a moment. He cleared his throat, attempting a more diplomatic tone. "Ah, of course, of course! Welcome, children! Don't be nervous, we're just going through the usual procedures, getting some information..." His words were cut off by a cold glance from Bones.

"Mr. Evans," Bones ignored Fudge, her gaze fixed on Linley, and got straight to the point. "Please describe in detail your encounter with Quirinus Quirrell and the remnant soul of Voldemort attached to him during the final stages of the Hogwarts Philosopher's Stone protection. Focus on the 'special power' you used—the power that could resist the Killing Curse, pacify the three-headed dog, and was even labeled 'Son of Stars' by Quirrell—its origin, nature, and your level of control over it."

The questions were like icy daggers, striking at the core! Fudge and Umbridge's gazes also instantly focused on Linley, one with a greedy curiosity, the other with a deep wariness hidden beneath a facade of concern.

Linley met Bones's sharp gaze, his eyes calm and unwavering, neither avoiding nor showing anger. His hand under the table was tightly clasped by Hermione's cold but remarkably firm one. Her fingertips lightly traced his palm, conveying silent support: Don't be afraid, I'm here.

"Professor Quirrell was possessed by Voldemort," Linley began, his voice not loud but exceptionally clear, with a strange penetrating quality that echoed in the cold room. "He was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone. We—Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and I—entered the underground protection challenges to stop him." His narration was concise, like stating an experimental report, focusing only on key points: encountering Quirrell (Voldemort), being attacked by the Killing Curse, the Star Stone passively activating to resist, and the remnant soul of Voldemort escaping.

When he mentioned the Star Stone, he raised his hand and gently pulled open the collar of his robe, revealing a hideous, lightning-torn, charred scar on his neck, with spiderweb-like dark red cracks at the edges! The wound, exposed to the cold air, silently testified to the brutal price paid that night.

Bones's gaze lingered on the shocking scar for a few seconds. A faint ripple seemed to pass through the depths of her icy eyes. Fudge gasped and instinctively recoiled. Umbridge, meanwhile, rapidly scribbled on a piece of parchment with her quill, her sweet smile momentarily stiffening.

"The Star Stone," Linley lowered his collar, covering the scar, his voice still steady. "Is an item I obtained by chance when I was at the Camphor House Orphanage. I don't know its exact origin, only that it can passively respond to my thoughts, providing limited protection, especially in moments of crisis. Its power requires my life force as a price, and it is extremely unstable. After that incident..." He spread his hands, palms up, and wiggled his fingertips, attempting to gather the faintest trace of luminescence. However, only a tiny, flickering silver light, like a candle in the wind, appeared at his fingertips before extinguishing instantly, as if it had never existed. His face seemed to grow paler, his breathing slightly more rapid. "...as you can see."

Silence. A chilling silence.

Bones's sharp gaze scrutinized Linley, as if trying to pierce through his flesh and see the very essence of his soul. Linley met her gaze calmly, his eyes as still as an ancient well.

"Director Bones!" Hermione could no longer hold back, her voice trembling slightly with emotion and anger, but exceptionally clear. "Linley is telling the truth! Quirrell was a victim controlled by Voldemort! Linley only passively activated the Star Stone's power at the brink of death to protect all of us! He almost paid with his life for it, and his magic is severely damaged! He's a hero! Instead of investigating Voldemort's whereabouts, the Ministry is here questioning him. Is that fair?!"

"Miss Granger," Bones's gaze shifted to Hermione, scrutinizing her. "We will record your testimony. However, the title of 'hero' is not determined by personal feelings. What we need are verifiable facts and a clear definition of the power's nature." Her tone remained cold, but seemed slightly less aggressive. "Do you have any further information about the Star Stone? Such as its magical fluctuation characteristics? Or the resonance you felt?"

Hermione took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Moon White Stone." She took out the warm, white stone from around her neck. "This is my Moon White Stone. When I first met Linley on the Hogwarts Express, they resonated. I could feel that the Moon White Stone seemed to... calm the Star Stone's power fluctuations. During the protection incident, this resonance seemed to amplify, especially when we..." She paused, her cheeks flushing slightly, but her tone was firm. "...were close. But this is just my feeling, it cannot be quantified."

Her action of displaying the Moon White Stone and her description of the "resonance" caused Fudge and Umbridge to exchange glances. Bones, however, looked thoughtfully at the warm stone.

"Resonance? Calming?" Umbridge suddenly spoke in her syrupy sweet voice, a fake smile on her face. "What... interesting terms, my dear. It sounds like some kind of... unregistered magical connection? Perhaps even involving... soul-level influence?" Her words were like poisoned needles wrapped in sugar coating, filled with malicious insinuation.

"Undersecretary Umbridge!" Dumbledore's voice, for the first time, carried a clear chill, like cracking ice. "Wild speculation and insinuation are not the purpose of an inquiry. Miss Granger is describing an objectively existing magical phenomenon, which has nothing to do with soul magic. I suggest we focus on the facts themselves."

Dumbledore's aura instantly overwhelmed Umbridge. The fake smile on her face froze, and she sullenly shut her mouth.

Bones remained silent for a moment, tapping her fingertips lightly on the tabletop, seemingly weighing her options. The only sound in the cold room was the rhythmic tapping of her fingers, like a countdown.

Finally, she looked up, her gaze falling on Linley again. "Mr. Evans, the Ministry will conduct a preliminary, non-contact scan of your Star Stone's magical fluctuations for record-keeping as a potentially anomalous magical item. Additionally, given your current physical condition, the instability of your power, and your status as a minor wizard, the Ministry requires you to submit a report on your magical recovery status to the Hogwarts hospital wing quarterly for the next year, signed and confirmed by Madam Pomfrey. Until you have fully recovered, any attempts to use magic beyond basic spells are prohibited outside of Hogwarts, or without the supervision of an adult wizard. Do you understand and accept?"

This was not an acquittal, but rather a stringent form of monitoring and restriction. However, compared to a worse outcome, it was a significant concession. Fudge seemed about to say something but was stopped by a look from Bones.

Linley remained silent for a few seconds, then met Bones's scrutinizing gaze and replied clearly, "I accept."

"Very well." Bones closed the parchment scroll before her with a soft sound, marking the end of the inquiry. "You may leave."

Stepping out of the cold, heavy black door and back into the dim, oppressive corridor of the ninth floor, Hermione finally let out a long, silent sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. Only then did she realize she was still holding Linley's hand, her palm slick with cold sweat. Linley's fingers were still icy, but he gently squeezed her hand in return.

Dumbledore walked ahead, his steps unhurried. The golden grille door of the elevator closed again, carrying them downwards. When the elevator door opened again, and they returned to the bustling, lively Ministry atrium filled with the sounds of everyday life, Hermione felt as if she had experienced a lifetime. The crackling of the fireplace, the chatter of wizards, the hooting of owls... these noisy sounds now seemed incredibly familiar and comforting.

"It was handled... with restraint, all things considered," Dumbledore stopped by the fountain in the atrium, looking at Linley, his sapphire blue eyes filled with meaning. "Bones is a person of principle, though her principles can sometimes seem cold. Fudge..." He shook his head slightly. "Fear makes him short-sighted. You need to be cautious for the next year."

Linley nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Headmaster."

"As for you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore turned to Hermione, his eyes filled with admiration. "Your courage and clear logic are impressive." He winked mischievously. "Especially that line, 'He's a hero,' spoken with such conviction."

Hermione's face instantly flushed, and she lowered her head shyly.

"Alright," Dumbledore smiled. "I think you two need some sunshine. I won't escort you out. Remember, Hogwarts will always be your support." He waved his hand and disappeared into the green flames erupting from a fireplace.

Leaving the chilly Ministry and standing once again under London's gray, drizzling sky, Hermione felt as if sunlight had pierced through the clouds and illuminated her heart. She held Linley's hand and, instead of heading towards the subway station, turned into the familiar bakery on the corner, its air thick with a rich, sweet aroma.

"Boss! Two chocolate croissants! With double chocolate sauce!" Hermione's voice was light with the joy of survival.

The bakery owner, a kind, balding old man, smiled and placed two golden, crispy croissants, generously drizzled with rich chocolate sauce, into a paper bag. "Here you go, little Hermione! And for your friend! Today's bread has a bit of special 'sunshine magic' in it, guaranteed to chase away all the gloom!"

Hermione took the warm paper bag, eagerly broke off a piece of croissant coated in chocolate sauce, stood on her tiptoes, and offered it to Linley's mouth, her eyes shining like stars. "Hurry and try it! To celebrate our triumphant return!"

Linley lowered his head and took a bite from her hand. The crispy crust shattered, and the warm, lava-like chocolate sauce flowed onto his tongue, its rich sweetness instantly filling his mouth. The subtle warmth from the Jubilee Agent rose again from his stomach, dispelling the last vestiges of the Ministry's chill.

"Mmm," he looked at Hermione's expectant eyes, the corners of his mouth curving upwards in an almost imperceptible but very real arc. "Very sweet."

The rain continued to fall, dampening the umbrellas of passersby and the streets. But under the warm eaves of the bakery, amidst the sweet aroma of chocolate croissants, in the girl's bright smile and the real warmth of her palm, the Star Stone in Linley's chest, through his robe, sent out a clear, warm pulse. The pulse was no longer a cold, stinging warning, but like a tiny spark ignited, steady, warm, and filled with an unprecedented vitality. He clasped Hermione's hand tighter in return.

The gloom would eventually dissipate, and some light, beneath the cold Star Mark, had quietly begun to spread like wildfire.