Two Weeks into the School Year

Hogwarts had only been back in session for a week, yet the atmosphere on campus was already utterly different from previous years.

The castle still stood beside the Black Lake, its towers soaring and corridors winding; on the surface, everything seemed normal. Yet an indescribable sense of oppression hung in the air. Students instinctively lowered their voices as they walked through the corridors. The common rooms went dark earlier than before at night, and even the first-years, usually the noisiest of all, had learned to fall silent the moment a professor approached.

Dumbledore's announcement about strengthening the castle's defenses covered the notice boards. Professors and Aurors could be seen patrolling everywhere, and the headmaster himself had publicly promised the students' safety in the Great Hall several times. Yet these measures did not truly ease anyone's fear. They merely caused the unease to lurk in another form, like a cold mist seeping into every corner.

Because beyond the castle, the world was only getting worse.

The Daily Prophet published new obituaries almost every day: a wizard found dead in his own sitting room, an entire family wiped out overnight, a pitch-black Dark Mark circling above the ruins. Death Eater attacks were sporadic but relentless, as though they were deliberately maintaining a rhythm of terror.

This was already the most ideal situation possible.

At the very least, thanks to the pieces Skylar had arranged beforehand—the Shield Security Consulting Company and the Diagon Alley Commercial Alliance's self-defense force—the Death Eaters did not dare attack large wizarding gathering places lightly. Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade Village still maintained a superficial order, and as a result, the overall casualties remained within a tolerable range.

But for the students, such "rational analysis" was far less immediate than bad news.

On Friday of the second week of term,