GRINDELWALDERS REPULSED IN DESPERATE HOGSMEADE ASSAULT
Students and Townsfolk Stand Firm Against Dark Forces
Hogsmeade, September 12, 1945 — In what is being called a “last, frenzied gasp” of Grindelwald’s shattered forces, a band of his followers launched a vicious attack on the wizarding village of Hogsmeade late Monday evening. The assault, which saw dark curses raining down on homes and businesses, left several buildings in ruins and claimed the lives of both townsfolk and students.
Despite the ferocity of the attack, the town’s hastily assembled town watch, supported by students and faculty from Hogwarts, successfully repelled the attackers after hours of brutal fighting. Eyewitnesses report an extraordinary display of courage from both sides of the castle gates.
“Explosions were everywhere!” said one shopkeeper, who helped his family to safety before joining the hastily assembled defense. “But we held the line. We couldn’t let them take Hogsmeade. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
HEROIC PREFECT AMONG THE INJURED
Among the defenders was Algernon Fairburne, a fifth-year Gryffindor Prefect who led a sortie of students to flank the dark wizards from the west bridge. Fairburne sustained severe injuries when shielding a fellow student from a barrage of curses but is expected to recover.
“Fairburne fought like a lion,” said one student witness. “Even after being hit, he kept directing us until the professors arrived to reinforce our position.”
Tragically, several students paid the ultimate price. Headmaster Hollowbrook confirmed that three students were killed, with many others wounded, some gravely. A full list of names has not yet been released pending notification of their next of kin.
The townsfolk suffered heavily. Three businesses were completely destroyed, including the iconic Zonko’s Joke Shop, burned to the ground. Early reports indicate at least four villagers dead and dozens injured. “We’ve lost so much, but we’re still standing,” said a tearful Madam Welcome, who helped defend the Three Broomsticks Inn with her wand and shield charms.
The Grindelwalders were eventually driven back by a combined assault from Hogwarts faculty, led by Professors Winterborn and Brightwell, and a fierce rally by the locals. The attackers fled into the Forbidden Forest under heavy pursuit, leaving behind two dead.
Ministry officials have commended the bravery of the defenders but cautioned that isolated groups of Grindelwald partisans may still pose a threat. A memorial service for the fallen will be held this Sunday in Hogsmeade’s town square.
- The Daily Prophet Archives
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“Hey there, Cyprian, wait up!” Jack had to jog down the hallway to catch him.
“Semmes,” the bespectacled Slytherin turned with a slight bow that managed to be both proper and sarcastic, “Need directions to your common room?”
“That’s a good one,” Jack replied airily, “No, wanted to tell you that I think our fathers spent some time dodging curses together in France.”
Venge paused for a moment.
"Operation Alcázar," he adjusted his glasses. "The MACUSA contingent that broke through the catacombs." His voice was mechanical. "My father spoke very highly of their point man. His name was Tom."
“That’s him,” Jack nodded. He hadn’t heard his father tell that story…
They walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps echoing in the stone corridor.
"You disagree with me," Cyprian said. It wasn't a question.
“What?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. “About what? Your choice in cologne? What is that anyway, Bay Rhum? You smell like my grandpa if he fell inside of a Christmas ham-”
“You disagree with my position. In History of Magic.”
"Oh, that! About keeping Muggles in the dark? Yeah, I do." Jack replied. "We have an obligation to protect them."
"Protect them?" Cyprian raised an eyebrow. "From what? Themselves? They're doing a splendid job of that on their own. See what they did to London?"
"We could have helped prevent that," Jack insisted.
"And hundreds of witches and wizards would die in the attempt." Cyprian stopped walking, turning to face Jack. "Do you know why Slytherin House remembers the witch hunts so vividly, Semmes? We were the ones who built the hidden places and developed the concealment charms. Our families sacrificed everything to keep our world safe while the Muggles burned and hung magical children."
"That was centuries ago, and in Europe, not America-"
"And what's changed?" Cyprian’s glasses flashed as they caught the sun, hiding his eyes. "Only their efficiency. Instead of burning one witch at a time, now they can holocaust entire nations. Their politics? They've just finished the bloodiest war in human history. Their tolerance? Look at the Nazis. Look at the Muggle empires dissolving. Millions dead, neighbor murdering neighbor over ancient hatreds."
Jack bit his tongue, flushing. He had no response. He couldn’t tell if he was more angry or embarrassed at that.
They resumed walking along the cloister of the Transfiguration Courtyard. A pair of second-year Gryffindors raced past, chasing a third who was floating helplessly about three feet off the ground.
"The Statute of Secrecy isn't about our superiority, Semmes," Cyprian said, his voice relentless. "It's about survival. Every time our worlds touch, it ends in blood. Usually ours. And unlike Muggles, we can’t afford losses. How many wizards live in America?”
Jack considered, "About ten thousand or so. We're super spread out."
Venge's voice echoed out into the stairwell as they descended. “There are fewer than four thousand of us in Britain today. The Continent, who knows after Grindlewald, but most likely no more than fifteen thousand. There are probably fewer than thirty thousand wizards and witches left in all of Europe and America now that the war is over.”
Jack blanched. He hadn’t thought about that.
“There are over 50 million Muggles on this island.” Cyprian gestured south. “50 million."
He shook his head. "You Americans think you can save everyone. That if you just explain things properly, show enough good faith, everything will work out.” His tone had no rancor, only a world-weariness far beyond his sixteen years. “Like your comic book superheroes. It's admirable. And hopelessly naive."
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"So we just hide forever?" Jack challenged. "Watch from the shadows while they destroy themselves?"
"Yes. Because the alternative is them destroying us too. The moment they truly understand what we can do, they will turn on us. Not out of hatred, but fear. And fear is far more dangerous than hatred."
“Aren’t you supposed to say that ‘It’s better to be feared than to be loved?’” Jack shot back sarcastically. “You know, Machiavelli and all that Slytherin schtick?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Semmes. That’s only true when you have overwhelming raw power—which we do not. Any power we have over Muggles is based on obfuscation, illusion, and trickery. Smoke and mirrors.”
Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Cyprian cut him off, “Niccolò Machiavelli wasn’t writing for people like us. He was writing for Muggle princes—kings with armies. Men with the might to enforce their will. We’re not princes, Semmes. We’re ghosts. Shadows. The moment the Muggles find us and see us for what we are, we’re finished.”
“Grindelwald thought he had that sort of power,” Jack countered.
“Grindelwald was the same as Hitler and the Kaiser before him. All of them made the same mistake, believing they could impose their will on the world by naked force. You think you can rule Earth forever with nothing but a wand and a collection of confoundment spells?”
“Yeah he went about it wrong, but doesn’t the idea of uniting wizards to fix the world mean anything? Would you rather just sit in your dungeon and hope the Muggles don’t blow up the planet and take us with them?”
Cyprian tilted his head, studying Jack like a chess master considering a reckless opponent. “And what happens when wizards ‘unite’ to fix the world? Who decides how much ‘fixing’ it needs? You? Me? Montfort? Dumbledore? Grindelwald in his prison cell?” His lip curled. “Wizards are no less flawed than Muggles, Semmes. We’re humans. Clay given breath. In fact, our flaws are even more damning because of the power we’ve been given.”
“Hiding isn’t a strategy, it’s cowardice!”
“Cowardice?” Cyprian repeated, “You think it’s cowardly to avoid a fight you can’t win, Gryffindor? Grindelwald didn’t fail because he lacked personal courage. He failed because he was a fool! The majority of wizards knew his goal was suicidal, and fought him. The Muggles aren’t just more numerous than us, they’re better at war. They’ve perfected it. Their weapons, their machines, their numbers, it’s not even a contest, Semmes. It would be annihilation. Grindelwald didn’t have the power to win, and neither do we. But unlike him, I don’t have any delusions about that.”
Jack stared at him, “Maybe you don’t have delusions, Venge. But maybe you don’t have any hope, either.”
“Hope is a fine thing, Semmes,” Cyprian replied, “Until too much gets you killed.”
Jack stared into the Transfiguration Courtyard. It was a beautiful, sunny fall day. Birds were singing merrily in the arches of the cloister, their chirps punctuated by the occasional harsh squawk of a peacock. Students bustled about, robes swishing, their chatter filling the crisp air. Nearby, a pair of Hufflepuff girls were practicing levitation charms, trying to coax an ancient, singed Quaffle to hover. Each success was punctuated with a cheer…until the Quaffle shot off and hit a Ravenclaw square in the back of the head. He glared but decided against a confrontation when a pair of Hufflepuff prefects strode by, laughing and loudly debating the merits of dragon hide gloves versus enchanted wool mittens for Herbology in the colder months.
On the far side of the courtyard, Palamedes Hitchens was engaged in a spirited game of Gobstones with an equally determined Slytherin first-year. From the dramatic groans and exaggerated victory poses, it seemed more about showmanship than actual skill. Not far from them, a Transfiguration class was wrapping up around the sundial as students retrieved their belongings. One unfortunate Gryffindor fourth-year started frantically chasing after his book bag, which had sprouted legs and was hopping away like a rabbit.
Cyprian stood beside him, watching with detachment. After a bit they continued walking.
“Why do you think, Semmes,” Venge spoke up, “that we Slytherins are so against wizards taking Muggle wives? Or, instead of replacing magically sensitive Muggle children with changelings like we used to in the past, now bringing Muggleborns and their families into our world?”
Jack shrugged, unsure of what to say. They stopped at the entrance to the West Tower. An apologetic Hufflepuff fourth-year ducked in between them.
“Do you think it’s because we’re mean spirited?” Cyprian asked. “Bullies? That we don’t believe in true love? Or that we’re - what’s that new word that Montfort uses - racists?”
"I mean," Jack rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. "It doesn’t seem very fair to the Muggleborns."
"'Fair.' Let me tell you about 'fair,' Semmes. Every Muggle parent of a magical child is a risk. Every Muggle lover is a betrayal waiting to happen. One quarrel, one bitter divorce, one wagging tongue in a pub - that's all it takes."
Venge pulled off his glasses and polished them. "Do you know what happens to Muggle-magical marriages? I’ve seen it. The Muggle spouse grows to resent their magical husband or wife. Their children are torn between incompatible worlds. And those children's Muggle relatives, Their aunts, uncles, cousins? Each one is another thread connecting our hidden world to theirs. Another crack in the wall that we've spent centuries building."
He replaced his glasses. "And the Muggleborns. They come to Hogwarts thinking like Muggles. They want to 'improve' our world with Muggle ideas, Muggle technology, Muggle solutions. They don't understand that we do things differently for a reason!"
"But some integration is good." Jack argued. “It’ll keep us from being too bunkered down.”
"Ha!" Cyprian's laugh was hollow. "There's no such thing as 'some' integration, Semmes. It's like being 'somewhat' pregnant. Once it starts, it doesn't stop until completion. Look at America - look at yourself! Your Ilvermorny is a carbon-copy of a Muggle military academy! You wear Muggle clothing, use Muggle phrases, Muggle ideas, watch Muggle movies! ”
"Now just a minute, Venge, hold on!" Jack shot back, only to realize too late he sounded exactly like Jimmy Stewart.
Cyprian smirked. "Your youth reads Muggle comics and plays at being heroes. Your ‘spellcats’ are all over the papers."
Jack flinched. “Yeah, ok they might go a bit overboard.
"The war caused losses. We needed to replace them," Cyprian stepped off, leading Jack up the spiral steps of the West Tower. "Half-bloods and Muggleborns. Every year more of them come to Hogwarts, bringing their world with them. Their misbegotten romances. Their ethnic conflicts. Their ‘technology’,” he spat the word.
"Every Muggleborn who enters our world brings Muggledom with them. Their parents want to understand their child's education - reasonable, isn't it? Their siblings want to visit Diagon Alley - oh just once, what's the harm? Their cousins hear stories about magic - but they'll keep the secret, surely? And then those children grow up and marry, and have their own children, and the circle of knowledge grows wider and wider.
"And one day, Semmes, one day during our lifetime, that circle will grow too wide. Someone will talk to the wrong Muggle reporter. Someone will prove magic exists to the wrong Muggle scientist. Someone will try to 'help' with the wrong Muggle war. And then?"
He held up his hand and made a slashing gesture.
"Thirty thousand of us will face a world of three billion Muggles terrified of what we are.”
He stared into Jack’s eyes.
“With machine guns, poison gas, jet aeroplanes, rockets, and atom bombs."
He swept his hand. "We’ll be blown away like leaves. Everything our ancestors built, all their sacrifices, all their protections - gone."
Jack swallowed.
"So no, Semmes, it's not ‘fair’. It's not about blood purity or magical superiority. My family opposed Grindelwald because dominating Muggles would have destroyed our way of life. But don’t think that means I’ll fly like a fool to the opposing dialectic of helping them. We maintain the wall that keeps us all safe. Every half-blood family, every Muggle-born student, every Muggle girlfriend - they are cracks in that wall. And the day that wall breaks…"
"You think it’ll come to that?"
"I know it will." Cyprian’s voice was heavy with conviction. "It always does. Men fear what they can't control. And what they fear, they destroy."
He snapped his fingers, the sound sharp and final.
"Our next war won’t be fought with wands—it’ll be fought with atoms."
They continued walking down the hallway.
Cyprian’s black certitude loomed over Jack with the dreadful shadow of a mushroom cloud.
“Why are you still following me?” he asked suddenly.
“Uh, we’re in the same class, Venge,” Jack observed as they arrived in front of their classroom on the first floor of the West Tower. “Muggle Studies with Professor Whitby.”
“I see.” Cyprian stared into space, his round glasses reflecting the light and hiding his eyes, “You threw off my timing. Now I’m two and a half minutes early.”
“What’s the problem with that?” Jack asked, as they went inside.
“People try to talk to you if you’re early,” Cyprian responded, finding a seat in the far corner as Cassandra Hightower breezed past them on her way to the front row.
Jack shook his head. Venge was a grim conversationalist.
No wonder nobody liked to talk to him.