Thankfully, only the building had been blown up. Nobody had died.
Wizards could repair a building with a few flicks of their wands, but if someone died, they had no way to bring them back.
"By the way," a young Auror suddenly spoke up, "Granger used dark magic in public. Fiendfyre, at that-second only to the Unforgivable Curses. What penalty should we give her?"
Silence.
Dead silence.
Everyone stared at him, eyes wide, as though they were looking at a complete moron.
"Dark magic?" an old Auror said first. "What dark magic? Where was this dark magic? Why didn't I see any?"
"Fiendfyre?" another Auror chimed in. "That was clearly just an ordinary Fire-Making Spell. You must have seen it wrong."
"And who gave you permission to call her Granger?"
"Please address her as the Witch!"
Everyone eagerly agreed.
"Yes, yes, Her Excellency the Witch!"
"Of course not. It was just an ordinary Fire-Making Spell!"
"Young man, if your eyesight's that bad, you shouldn't be an Auror!"
Fudge came back to his senses and added, "If you can't even tell Fiendfyre from a Fire-Making Spell, what business do you have being an Auror?"
"Report to the Logistics Department tomorrow."
The young Auror looked as though he had been struck by lightning.
After leaving the Ministry of Magic, Hermione stroked the backpack against her chest, looking thoroughly satisfied.
She couldn't help it. The Ministry of Magic had so many good things that it was practically a treasure trove on legs.
She was even starting to consider whether she should come back regularly to "restock."
Snape followed behind her, his gaze dark, unable to keep a trace of envy from flickering through his eyes.
"I never imagined you really wouldn't kill anyone."
Snape finally couldn't help speaking, his tone as snide