The morning light glimmered faintly on the eastern horizon, heralding the slow approach of dawn over London's hidden magical district.
A long and agonizing night of preparation, of sleepless anxiety and prayers, had only just passed. The pale golden sunlight now breaking through, tinged with an eerie grayish-green from the lingering fog was still far too weak to evaporate the thin, ghostly mist that hung in the morning air like cobwebs.
Whoooo, whoooo, whoooo!
The stillness shattered without warning. A thick plume of white steam rose straight into the lightening sky dotted with a few scattered clouds, and three piercing whistle blasts tore through the silence that had been blanketing Diagon Alley like a shroud.
The operation had begun.
Crash!
The deserted street, which had lain empty and abandoned for days, suddenly woke from its unnatural stillness as though a spell had been broken.
Along the central cobblestone road that ran the full length of Diagon Alley, the tightly shut doors and boarded-up windows of shops on both sides flew open simultaneously with explosive force. From each darkened storefront darted a figure dressed in identical gray trench coats, their faces showed expressions of determination—Ministry Hitwizards, the elite tactical response unit.
The well-trained Hitwizards moved with precision, taking up their assigned positions. They stood straight before their respective shops, feet planted shoulder-width apart, wands held at the ready in grips. Their sharp eyes swept constantly back and forth, missing absolutely nothing that moved on the street before them.
Whoosh!
The train's whistle still echoed across the rooftops above Diagon Alley, bouncing between buildings. Over by the small platform of Diagon Alley Station, roughly thirty additional Hitwizards riding on high-quality racing broomsticks suddenly shot into the air in unison.
After rising to approximately two hundred feet above ground level—high enough to have a complete view but low enough to respond quickly to threats below; this aerial contingent of Hitwizards stopped their climbing and hovered in place.
They quickly adjusted their formation in midair, spreading out in a precise horizontal line with roughly two hundred feet of separation between each rider. The spacing was close enough for mutual support and far enough to avoid presenting a grouped target.
Once the formation had stabilized into something that resembled a net stretched across the sky, the flying patrol began advancing at a slow pace.
Using the main street as their central axis, they commenced a carpet-style aerial inspection of Diagon Alley, their eyes scanning every rooftop, every alley, every potential hiding place or ambush point below.
The cold morning air, still carrying the night's chill, reeked of impending tension. The atmosphere was so dense with anticipation and suppressed fear that even the orderly queue of reinforced carriages stationed along the street, enchanted to carry extreme weights, shifted restlessly against their wheel-locks as though the vehicles themselves sensed what was coming.
"Mr. Shacklebolt—sir—"
A young Auror burst out from the temporarily seized Leaky Cauldron pub. Under the vigilant, tracking eyes of numerous armed colleagues positioned along the route, he sprinted down the street toward the majestic white marble building of Gringotts Bank.
He stopped abruptly at the base of the broad marble steps, breathing hard.
"How's it going?"
Kingsley, standing tall and imposing in the midst of a tight cluster of senior Aurors and Order members, immediately turned his bald head and dark, sharp gaze toward the messenger.
"The Department of Magical Transportation has begun the process of sealing all the fireplaces throughout Diagon Alley, sir. From this moment forward, absolutely no one can reach this location via the Floo Network. Every hearth is locked down tight."
Kingsley's tense, worried expression eased slightly at this news. He raised his wand with a smooth motion and shot a tight cluster of bright blue sparks high into the sky, where they hung for several seconds before fading.
After a short time, four more answering sparks rose from four different positions at the corners of a massive rectangular perimeter surrounding the entire commercial district—north, south, east, and west.
"The Anti-Disapparition Jinx has been completed successfully across the entire designated zone—"
Kingsley turned his head toward Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, who stood close beside him leaning heavily on his gnarled staff. The old Auror's magical blue eye was whirring constantly back and forth in its socket, scanning for threats in all directions simultaneously.
"This is a specially modified Anti-Disapparition Jinx that Bryan personally taught to the Ministry—one he's adapted and enhanced himself based on ancient ward-crafting techniques. Neither goblin nor house-elf Apparition will function within its boundaries. It's completely comprehensive."
"Bryan always covers every possible angle!"
Alastor chuckled hoarsely. Despite the grim situation, there was genuine admiration in his rough voice.
"But we still can't afford to let our guard down for even a second. If I were a Death Eater planning this attack, I wouldn't waste my time trying to break into Diagon Alley. I'd strike hard on the road between here and King's Cross—catch the trains while they're moving and vulnerable!"
Kingsley nodded slowly in agreement, his expression was darkening again.
"I've never personally experienced a Ministry operation of this scale and complexity before. If only the last time... I mean, when the Dark Lord first began operating in the wizarding world back in the seventies, if the Ministry had shown this kind of resolve and coordination then—"
His voice carried profound regret. "You-Know-Who might not have been able to cause such devastating damage. So many lives might have been saved."
"Dumbledore did warn the Ministry repeatedly back then but nobody in power took it seriously until it was far too late—"
Alastor spat the words with contempt.
"Of all the recent Ministers for Magic we've suffered under, only Bones actually acts like a real leader! The others were politicians playing politics while people died!"
"Minister Bones would be absolutely delighted to hear you say that, Alastor—"
From the shadowy doorway of Gringotts, Sirius and Remus emerged side by side. Following close behind them came Nymphadora Tonks with her vibrant hair, Bill Weasley looking serious in his dragon-hide jacket, and several other Order members.
Remus said the words with a small, tired smile, then glanced down at his watch and squinted at the time displayed there.
"I think it's time to begin, Kingsley. We're on schedule."
"Then let's proceed with the operation."
Kingsley said formally, raising his wand toward the sky a second time and sending up a tight cluster of green sparks.
The atmosphere of violence permeating Diagon Alley intensified, tightening like a drawn bowstring pulled to its limit until the very air felt suffocating and hard to breathe.
The members of the Order of the Phoenix and the numerous Ministry Aurors standing guard at Gringotts' entrance stepped aside in coordinated movements, clearing a wide path.
Moments later, a parade of Gringotts goblins emerged from the bank's grand entrance hall. They moved efficiently using levitation charms to float massive wooden treasure chests out into the morning light.
Each individual wooden chest was enormous—two or three times the size of a standard Hogwarts student's trunk, bound with reinforcements and sealed with complex magical locks. When they settled with precision onto the waiting carriages, they landed with heart-stopping, thunderous thuds.
Above them, the sky that had initially appeared a clear, promising blue hinting what might have been a fine, peaceful day under other circumstances—began to change.
A thick, ominous dark cloud drifted in slowly from the distant horizon, spreading like ink spilling across parchment, shrouding the heavens over Diagon Alley in premature shadow.
Ever since taking charge of Bryan's Learning Machine workshop, Remus had finally escaped his previous desperate hand-to-mouth existence—the poverty and constant job insecurity that had plagued him since leaving Hogwarts. He had rapidly entered the upper echelons of European wizarding society, mingling with wealthy investors and influential business leaders.
But even Remus, who now considered himself reasonably acquainted with considerable wealth and its allures, couldn't help showing visible astonishment at the sight of treasure chests being loaded onto carriages in what seemed like an endless stream, flowing like water from an inexhaustible mountain spring!
The sheer volume was staggering.
"Good lord—whose vault is producing all this?"
Remus clicked his tongue in amazement and turned to Kingsley with raised eyebrows.
"The first batch currently being transported comes primarily from the combined vaults of the Carrow siblings, Antonin Dolohov, and Travers—"
Kingsley answered, consulting a parchment list he pulled from his robes.
"The second batch, which we'll load in few minutes, belongs to Rosier, Selwyn, Avery, and a few other families of similar standing. The third and final batch contains the remaining seized assets from various smaller accounts."
"These pure-blood wizarding family heirs are considerably wealthier than I ever imagined—"
Remus shook his head slowly, full of wonder.
"And they're not even among the absolute richest ones in Britain—"
Sirius looked completely unimpressed by the display. His face showed only contempt.
"When I was still in school, my father took me down to the Black family vault deep beneath Gringotts to show me our 'heritage.' The amount of gold stored there significantly exceeded what's in any of these vaults."
"Oh, I've never quite understood the process of it—"
Bill gazed at the flowing chests with a slightly melancholy expression.
"How did they manage to amass so much gold for themselves? What did they actually do to earn it?"
"Earn it? They didn't earn anything—"
Sirius's face showed clear contempt.
"Extortion and plunder, Bill. That's how. You should understand that these ancient families' true wealth isn't even this gold we're looking at—that's just their liquid assets, their pocket money. Their real wealth is the workshops, factories, and businesses they monopolize through political connections and inherited privilege. They control everything ordinary people need in their daily lives—from cauldrons to robes to basic potions ingredients."
His voice grew bitter.
"Those enterprises bring them inexhaustible wealth generation after generation. The vast majority of ordinary wizards in the magical world spend their entire lives working in these families' enterprises, making them richer while barely surviving themselves. It's been that way for centuries, and it'll continue that way until someone breaks the system."
Even with the goblins' impressive efficiency and their expertise at moving large quantities of treasure, it took well over twenty minutes of continuous loading to transfer all hundred-plus large wooden chests—treasure conservatively worth no less than two million Galleons, probably significantly more—onto the reinforced carriages.
"According to the plan, I'll personally lead the Aurors escorting the first train departure—"
Kingsley looked directly toward Moody, his expression was grave and intense, making sure he understood the weight of what he was saying.
"The second train will be your responsibility, Alastor."
"Don't worry about me for one second, Kingsley—"
Alastor's nose twitched like a hound scenting prey. His magical eye spun to focus on the loaded carriages while his normal eye remained fixed on Kingsley.
"I won't let those despicable, murdering Death Eaters find even the smallest opening to exploit! They'll have to go through me first—and that won't be easy!"
The heavily loaded carriages rumbled slowly over the cobblestone road. They left two clear, deep tracks pressed into the ground.
"Tsk, tsk—this is absolutely extraordinary—"
Watching the first convoy gradually recede toward the station platform, disappearing into the morning mist, Tonks clicked her tongue repeatedly in admiration.
"Such a massive fortune concentrated in one place—I genuinely wonder what the Ministry will actually do with all this seized wealth once it's secured?"
"I did happen to hear Bryan mention something about it in passing during a meeting—"
Sirius shrugged casually.
"He apparently suggested to Minister Bones that they use a portion of it to increase Ministry employees' salaries across the board."
Excitement and exhilaration surged through Tonks, turning her hair a bright, blazing orange-red that nearly glowed.
"Raises? salary increases? Oh, that's absolutely wonderful news! I've been desperately wanting to get myself a proper new racing broomstick instead of the ancient hand-me-down I'm using now!"
"Only if you manage to live through today first, girl!"
Alastor barked unhappily, his face was scowling with disapproval at her excitement.
"Constant vigilance! Remember your training! This is a combat operation, not a celebration!"
Seeing Tonks's continued nonchalance despite the warning, her youthful optimism apparently undented, Remus said more gently but with unmistakable seriousness:
"Alastor's absolutely right, Tonks. You need to take this seriously. Voldemort simply can't afford to just sit back passively and watch the Ministry cart away his Death Eaters' accumulated wealth without resistance. He'd lose all credibility with his followers."
"But surely the Death Eaters are extremely unlikely to strike here in Diagon Alley itself, aren't they?"
Tonks said breezily, waving one hand dismissively.
"This is obviously the most heavily fortified location in the entire transport operation—the hardest target by far. The Ministry has thoroughly blocked every conceivable means of Apparating into Diagon Alley.
And they're also very unlikely to strike in London proper—Bryan himself is personally stationed at King's Cross Station. If you ask me, they're most likely to attack somewhere midway along the route—"
"Don't ever underestimate the Dark Lord's cunning or his willingness to do the unexpected, young lady!"
Alastor interrupted sharply, limping down the marble steps in front of Gringotts' entrance with his staff tapping against stone. He stood on the street itself, his magical eye rotating constantly as he surveyed the entire area with professional paranoia.
"Voldemort didn't survive this long and build this much power by being predictable!"
Half of the Ministry Hitwizards and combat-ready Aurors who had been stationed along the street in defensive positions had already left with Kingsley's convoy to escort the first train to its destination.
The remaining security forces would divide again, with half accompanying the Order of the Phoenix to escort the second train when it departed.
The final group of guards would accompany the bounty hunters temporarily hired by the Ministry to escort the third and final train.
The carriage convoy that had just transported the first massive load of seized gold to the station platform rumbled back once more to the front of Gringotts, ready to repeat the process.
With a final, piercing whistle, the first train finally departed on schedule.
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