Fiendfyre was one of the most terrifying forms of Dark magic. It was not ordinary fire, and it did not behave like anything that could be smothered with a blanket or doused with water. Once released, it could grow stronger by devouring everything in its path, feeding on wood, stone, metal, flesh, magic, and even the panic of the wizard foolish enough to lose control of it.
If left unchecked, Fiendfyre could swallow an entire district. Ordinary water did nothing against it, and most extinguishing charms only delayed the inevitable. To put it out properly, one either had to cut it off from everything it could burn or counter it with powerful spellwork before it grew beyond control.
At that moment, the area around Gringotts had already turned into a sea of cursed flame. The enormous Hydra formed from Fiendfyre crouched where the bank had stood, nine burning heads writhing above the ruins as waves of heat rolled through Diagon Alley.
The fire spread outward little by little, licking at the shattered cobblestones and climbing the broken fronts of nearby shops. Several storefronts in Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley had already begun to burn, and the monstrous Hydra seemed almost alive, tearing into buildings as if it had been born with hatred in its bones.
The Ministry Aurors continued to retreat. None of them dared get too close, because even a single spark of Fiendfyre could cling to a robe and burn a wizard to death before anyone could save him. The heat alone forced them back, stinging eyes and drying throats as smoke filled the ruined street.
"Dumbledore," Scrimgeour said sharply, his face dark beneath the reflected firelight. "If this continues, and we don't extinguish that thing soon, the whole of Diagon Alley will be swallowed."
"I know," Dumbledore replied, his expression unusually grave. "This fire is far too large for one person to suppress safely. We will need everyone working together."
He looked toward Scrimgeour, his blue eyes hard behind his half-moon spectacles. "Rufus, have every Auror spread out and surround the Fiendfyre. Once everyone is in position, we will cast the counter-spell together."
Dumbledore tightened his grip on the Elder Wand. Even for him, the scale of the cursed fire was alarming. "If we act as one, Finite Incantatem should be able to force it back and extinguish it."
"Understood," Scrimgeour said at once.
At a time like this, the only person they could truly rely on was Dumbledore. Fudge was worse than useless in a battlefield crisis, and Scrimgeour knew better than to waste precious seconds waiting for the Minister to produce a plan.
"All Aurors, listen!" Scrimgeour roared. As Head of the Auror Office, his voice still carried authority among them, even after the chaos of the day. "Spread out and surround the Fiendfyre. Keep your distance, but hold the line."
The Aurors obeyed immediately. With sharp cracks of Apparition, they moved across Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, taking positions around the burning Hydra wherever the flames had not yet spread. Some landed on rooftops, others behind collapsed shop fronts, and several stood in the open street with their wands raised.
"All Aurors," Scrimgeour shouted once they were in place. "When I count to three, drive your wands into the ground and cast the counter-spell together. Put everything you have into it, or that monster will burn through us all."
The Hydra roared as if it understood him. Nine heads whipped through the smoky air, jaws snapping and flinging trails of cursed flame that splashed against magical shields and shattered walls.
"One," Scrimgeour called.
Dumbledore stepped into position, calm amid the heat and smoke. The Elder Wand pointed downward, its tip hovering just above the cracked stone.
"Two."
The Aurors braced themselves. Some were pale, some were shaking, but not one of them lowered his wand.
"Three!"
Every Auror, along with Dumbledore, plunged a wand into the ground.
"Finite Incantatem!"
The spell rang out across the ruined alley. Golden barriers rose from the earth, one after another, forming a luminous cage around the monstrous Fiendfyre Hydra.
The Hydra refused to die quietly. It struggled with terrifying violence, nine heads lashing against the golden walls as streams of cursed fire surged into the sky. Each impact shook the barriers, and cracks of light flashed across the air like lightning trapped in glass.
But the counter-spell was powerful, and it had been cast by many trained wizards at once under Dumbledore's guidance. The golden barrier tightened slowly, pushing the Fiendfyre inward, smothering its spread, and grinding down the cursed magic that fed it.
Little by little, the flames shrank. The Hydra's heads became smaller, its roars weaker, and the sea of fire that had threatened to devour Diagon Alley began to collapse in on itself.
"Hmph. Finite Incantatem," Voldemort whispered from the shadows, hidden beneath Professor Quirrell's turban. He watched the golden barrier crush the Fiendfyre and felt a flicker of regret. "What a shame."
Quirrell crouched in a dark corner some distance away, his face damp with sweat and terror. He had remained only because his master forced him to remain, and every instinct he possessed screamed at him to flee.
"Quirrell, we are leaving," Voldemort ordered at last. His voice was cold and dissatisfied. "There is nothing more to see here."
"Yes… yes, Master," Quirrell whispered.
Relief nearly made his knees buckle. He drew a shaky breath, gripped his wand, and Disapparated before Dumbledore or anyone else could notice him.
"It's going out!" one Auror shouted.
"The Fiendfyre is extinguished!" another cried, his voice cracking with exhausted joy. "We saved Diagon Alley!"
With everyone's combined effort, the terrible cursed fire finally vanished beneath the golden counter-spell. The last Hydra head dissolved into sparks, and the sea of flame collapsed into smoke, leaving behind scorched stone, ruined buildings, and a silence heavy with disbelief.
Cornelius Fudge nearly wept with relief. He kept wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, though sweat still poured down his face as if his body had not yet realized the danger was over.
"Half of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley has been destroyed," Kingsley said quietly as he looked over the ruins. "It will take a long time to rebuild this place."
The prosperous shopping street that had bustled with families and students only hours earlier now looked like the aftermath of a war. Storefronts were gutted, signs hung broken, and smoke drifted over piles of glass and stone.
"Albus," Fudge said, edging closer to Dumbledore and lowering his voice. "Are you going to suppress this? We shouldn't cause panic among the public."
Dumbledore turned and looked at him as if he had just said something particularly foolish. "Cornelius, do you truly think this can be concealed when so many witches and wizards saw half of Diagon Alley destroyed?"
"Oh. Yes, yes, of course," Fudge said awkwardly.
He forced a weak smile, realizing how stupid the question had been. Diagon Alley was the busiest place in Britain's wizarding world, and there were far too many witnesses. Nothing that had happened here could possibly be hidden.
"Albus," Fudge asked nervously, "then what do we do now?"
The matter had already gone far beyond his ability to handle. If this disaster was not managed properly, his position as Minister for Magic might collapse before it had even settled. At this point, all he could do was ask Dumbledore for help.
"That is an extremely dangerous Dark wizard," Dumbledore said, frowning deeply. "The Ministry must identify him and apprehend him as soon as possible. If he remains free, we cannot know how many terrible things may follow."
Dumbledore did not know when such a terrifying wizard had appeared in Britain. There had been no whispers, no warnings, no reports, nothing to suggest that someone with this much power had been hiding in the shadows. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air.
He had powerful magic, deep knowledge of the Dark Arts, and command over an Obscurus. Worse still, this was the very year Harry Potter would enter Hogwarts.
Dumbledore could not yet tell whether the Dark wizard was connected to Voldemort. If such a person joined forces with Voldemort, the entire wizarding world would face a danger far greater than anyone understood.
"Of course," Fudge said angrily, though his anger sounded safer now that the Dark wizard had vanished. "We will issue a warrant at once. That damned Dark wizard did something unforgivable today. He deserves the Dementor's Kiss, not even a cell in Azkaban."
He would never have dared say such a thing to the man's face. In private, however, with Dumbledore standing beside him and the danger gone, Fudge could sound as furious as he liked.
"However, there is another very important matter," Kingsley said. "Until now, we still do not know the Dark wizard's name or where he came from."
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