The Rise of a New Order
The Ministry of Magic had fallen. Not with explosions. Not with bloodshed. But with something far more terrifying — silence.
One by one, the old guard vanished. Scandals surfaced, secrets exposed. Dolores Umbridge? Gone. Cornelius Fudge? Discredited, broken, hiding behind layers of cowardice.
And when the dust settled, the world stared into the inevitable:
Alastor Moody — Minister of Magic.
The scarred, battle-hardened Auror stood at the center of the atrium, his magical eye whirling wildly, the constant hum of paranoia and raw authority oozing from every pore.
Behind him, quiet, calculating, stood Remus Lupin — the newly appointed Vice Minister.
A werewolf, a blood-traitor in the eyes of pure-blood supremacists… and Daniel's personal endorsement.
The symbolism? Deliberate. Ruthless.
Whispers crackled through the halls of power like lightning against a darkened sky.
"The Aurors… they're with him…"
"Moody answers to no one but himself… and Death."
"Lupin? Isn't he one of Daniel's…"
Everyone knew the truth but no one dared voice it:
Daniel had engineered this — meticulously, surgically — with the elegance only Death incarnate possessed.
In less than a year, the foundations of wizarding politics reshaped beneath his invisible hand.
Alastor's first speech shattered illusions:
"The days of hiding behind corrupt officials are over. The Ministry exists to protect, not manipulate. Traitors, Death Eaters, politicians… makes no difference to me. You threaten this world — you vanish."
Simple. Direct. Terrifying.
Across the wizarding world, lines redrew themselves.
The old blood families trembled.
Gringotts doubled its security.
Hogwarts? Whispers turned into legends.
"Death walks these halls…"
"The Minister is his creature…"
"Even Dumbledore… even he treads carefully now."
But Moody wasn't a puppet.
He was a weapon — pointed in the right direction.
Lupin, quiet but sharp, spoke in hushed tones to the press:
"We're not here to rule by fear… we're here to restore strength. Every child, every witch, every wizard deserves to walk freely — without darkness lurking in the shadows."
But they all knew.
The darkness wasn't lurking.
It was already here.
Watching.
Guiding.
Daniel never claimed the title — never sat on the political throne — but his presence wrapped around every decision, every policy, like cold mist curling through ancient stone.
A symbol.
An untouchable myth walking beside the living.
And yet… it worked.
Crime rates plummeted.
Auror numbers surged.
Families once fractured by fear found unity — not in politics, but in brutal, unrelenting preparation.
Hogwarts became a fortress, its students not naive children, but trained warriors, molded by Daniel's ruthless curriculum.
Neville Longbottom walked with pride — his parents whole again, his future unwritten.
Harry Potter? No longer the trembling boy-who-lived, but the silent shadow beside Daniel — his apprentice, his son in all but name.
And the world watched.
They feared.
They respected.
And they whispered…
"This… this is only the beginning…"
Because as the old, rotting systems collapsed, something new — sharp, efficient, dangerous — rose in their place.
A world not of fragile peace…
But of controlled power.
And Daniel? He waited. Calculated.
Because even with a Minister in place, even with enemies scattered, the real war was only beginning.
And Death was patient.
Always patient.
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