Destruction of Hogwarts Complete

He implemented a series of prudent reforms, advocating for the fusion of "practical magic" and "ancient wisdom."

Under this wave of reforms, the castle gradually revived from ruin and grief, even revealing a restrained vitality that surpassed its past.

That same year, Hermione Granger stepped into the British Ministry of Magic with an impeccable record.

Her efficiency was astonishing, her methods both resilient and polished. She excelled in purging remnants of dark magic, advancing magical creature rights, and mediating international wizarding relations, rising through the ranks at a pace that drew widespread attention.

Five years passed, and Caesar Habs's position as Headmaster grew increasingly secure.

Under his guidance, Hogwarts entered an era that outsiders described as more "open" and "pragmatic."

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger, through a series of sensational legislative acts and crisis resolutions, climbed to the top amid fierce political maneuvering, becoming the youngest Minister of Magic in British history.

Her open and close collaboration with Hogwarts Headmaster Caesar Habs was hailed as a model of synergy between the magical world's administrative and educational systems.

Two stars, shining in tandem, seemed to illuminate a new chapter for magical Britain together.

Until the end-of-term assembly.

Caesar Habs stood at the front of the Great Hall, his voice steady and clear as he announced:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with its thousand-year history, would be formally dissolved after the current school year.

His reasoning was sound and forward-looking—for the diversity of magical development, for more specialized and personalized education, and for breaking down inherent barriers.

A storm erupted. Waves of doubt, protest, and pleas for reversal surged.

Yet the Headmaster's preparations were flawless, his plan logically airtight, and the procedure impeccable.

The most decisive support came from Minister Hermione Granger's immediate public statement.

She pledged that the Ministry would fully ensure a smooth transition.

Faced with power and a seemingly perfect blueprint, the voices of opposition gradually faded, splintered, and were absorbed.

Another school year ended. For the last time, Hogwarts Castle rang with the school's bells.

Teachers and students departed, carrying complex emotions.

The castle was not abandoned but preserved as the "Magical Education History and Research Center," though its mission as a complete magical school came to an abrupt halt.

Four new institutions were established across Scotland, inheriting parts of the tradition while emphasizing specialized divisions.

The very foundation of magical education was thoroughly reshaped.

No one knew that on the night of the dissolution announcement, Caesar stood alone in the empty Headmaster's office.

Outside the window, the Black Lake was as dark as ink, the stars hanging low in the sky.

He toyed with the Philosopher's Stone between his fingers—now completely dim, reduced to a deep crimson crystal. A faint, unreadable curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, the trace of a long narrative finally concluded.

At the same time, in the Minister's office, Hermione signed the final document approving financial allocations for the new schools.

She set down her quill, rubbed her brow, and walked to the window.

Below, the glittering lights of magical London flowed, but her gaze pierced through the void, fixed on the ancient castle to the north, now fallen silent.

There was no smug satisfaction of supreme power in her eyes—only a profound weariness and a thick, tangled complexity.

"Caesar, what is love?" Her own voice, young and curious, echoed in memory.

"Love is the most dangerous curse. It can make you lose reason, cloud your judgment, and bear the deepest pain. It can also make you strong enough to fear nothing, or fragile enough to shatter at a touch." His answer had sounded like a distant fable at the time.

"I don't quite understand... Is it really that dramatic?"

From the inner pocket of her robes, Hermione pulled out a letter with slightly worn edges—Caesar's handwriting, the "proof" passed on by Professor McGonagall.

She knew every letter by heart, every logical node as clear as a mirror.

She knew it was a lie.

To Professor McGonagall, and to her as well.

But she had never once asked him to confirm it.

Because love...

The thousand-year legacy of Hogwarts came to an end.

The curtain of a new era slowly rose over the ashes of power and the reordering of order. Whether light or shadow lay behind that curtain, only time would tell.

[Main Quest: Destroy Hogwarts — Completed]

[Overall Assessment: S+]

[Reward Settlement in Progress...]

[Quest completion period: fifteen years, three years remaining. Host may end the simulation at any time.]

[Upon choosing to end the simulation, the simulation body will die from an accident. Does the host wish to end now?]

"Do not end this simulation."

Caesar's voice was resolute.

By all logic, having obtained what he wanted, he should leave.

But the moment that thought crossed his mind, countless images surged forth simultaneously.

Three years left... He wanted to do something simply because he "wanted to," not because it was "planned."

On a sunny afternoon, at the home in Hampstead.

When Caesar knocked on that door again with Hermione, standing at the entrance and saying "We're back," the shopping bag in Monica's hand dropped to the floor.

Wendell froze for three seconds, then burst into laughter as he pulled him inside, clapping him hard on the back and saying, "You kid, couldn't even send a single letter!"

On the dining table sat the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding Monica had carefully prepared. Wendell brought out his treasured wine, pulling Caesar into a conversation about dental care and anecdotes from the wizarding world.

Wendell and Monica Granger had shifted from their initial shock at hearing the news of the two falling in love to their current joy.

After all, they had long since regarded Caesar as part of their family. The couple accepted without a moment's hesitation the man who deeply loved their daughter.

Of course, now they welcomed Caesar with a new identity—true family.

Hermione chimed in with a smile from the side, occasionally exchanging a knowing glance with Caesar.

The atmosphere was warm and harmonious. The fire in the hearth crackled, illuminating the genuine smiles on everyone's faces.

Caesar watched it all, suddenly recalling another afternoon from years ago.

Back then, he had also been a guest at this dining table, and Hermione was still a little girl who would get ketchup on the tip of her nose.

And he, of course, had been mentally calculating his mission progress, unknowingly stumbling into this family's life and becoming one of them.

"Caesar?" Hermione's voice pulled him back to reality.

He looked up and found her watching him, concern in her eyes.

"You were spacing out just now," she said.

"I was just thinking," he smiled. "Some things, no matter how they twist and turn, still come back to the starting point."

"Just like a dream," Hermione raised her glass, cheerfully declaring, "A toast to the starting point! A toast to family!"

"To family." Caesar repeated the word in his mouth and in his heart, clinking glasses with her.

It was a kind of ordinary warmth that Caesar had perhaps subconsciously yearned for in the gaps between countless cold calculations.

Yet he had never believed it would belong to him.

And now, he sat within it.

Feeling like a thief who had stolen happiness.

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