A/N: Update- sorry forgot to add in Ablus.

Epilogue: Snapped

It was a warm, golden afternoon in Godric's Hollow. The garden behind the Potter home was alive with the sound of laughter. Harry Potter, now 28 years old, sat on the grass with his three children—James Sirius (4 years old), Albus Severus (3 years old), and Lily Luna (2 years old)—while his wife, Ginny, reclined on a blanket nearby, a fourth child growing in her belly.

James was toddling around with a toy broomstick, attempting daring dives that made Ginny's heart race. Albus sat beside Harry, carefully constructing a wobbly tower out of enchanted blocks that floated gently above the grass. Lily clutched a stuffed unicorn in her tiny hands, babbling nonsense that only Harry seemed to understand.

"Careful, James!" Ginny called out with a smile. "If you crash into your brother or sister again, I'll charm that broom to go in reverse."

"Dad won't let you!" James countered boldly, zooming past Harry, who chuckled.

Harry leaned back on his elbows, his messy black hair glinting in the sunlight. "I don't know, mate. Mum's got a mean Bat-Bogey Hex. Best listen to her."

Albus looked up from his tower, his dark green eyes wide with curiosity. "What's a Bat-Bogey Hex?" he asked, his voice laced with the seriousness only a three-year-old could muster.

"It's something you don't want to find out," Harry replied, ruffling Albus's messy black hair.

"Mum wouldn't hex us," Albus said confidently, though he glanced at Ginny for reassurance. She smirked, raising an eyebrow as though considering it, making Albus giggle nervously before returning to his tower.

Lily toddled over to Harry, climbing unsteadily into his lap. "Unicorn!" she squealed, holding up her toy. Harry kissed the top of her head, the weight of fatherhood filling his chest with warmth. For the first time in years, life felt truly perfect.

Then, everything changed.

It started with a strange shift in the air. The cheerful hum of the garden seemed to grow quieter, the sounds of birds and rustling leaves fading into an eerie stillness. Harry's brow furrowed as he glanced at Ginny, who was already sitting up, her hand instinctively moving to her wand.

"Harry… do you feel that?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Before he could answer, a faint golden shimmer began to dance across the edge of his vision. He turned to James, who was slowing his broom, his wide brown eyes staring at his hands in confusion. Little flecks of ash began to peel away from his fingertips.

"Dad?" James's voice wavered, panic rising in his young face. "What's—what's happening to me?"

"James!" Harry scrambled to his feet, clutching Lily tightly in his arms. Albus froze where he sat, his blocks tumbling to the ground as he stared at his older brother in fear. Ginny was already rushing toward James, her wand drawn, her face pale.

"No, no, no!" Ginny shouted, reaching for James just as the ash began to consume his small body. He looked up at his mother, tears streaking his face as he whispered, "I'm scared, Mum."

And then, he was gone.

"James!" Ginny screamed, collapsing to her knees where he had stood only moments before. Harry stared in disbelief, his mind unable to process what he'd just witnessed. His son—his firstborn—had disappeared into nothingness.

Then Lily began to cry.

Harry looked down at the little girl in his arms, her tiny body trembling as the same golden ash began to trail up her arms. "No!" he cried, clutching her tighter. "Lily, stay with me! I've got you!"

"Daddy…" Her small voice cracked as her tiny hand reached for his face. "I don't feel—" She didn't finish. Her body dissolved in his arms, leaving nothing but the stuffed unicorn on the grass.

"Lily!" Harry roared, dropping to his knees. He clawed at the empty air where his daughter had been, shaking his head as if sheer willpower could bring her back. "No… no, please, not them!"

"Dad, I'm scared?" Albus's trembling voice snapped Harry's attention back. The boy had crawled to his side, his small hands clutching at Harry's robes. "What's happening? Where's James? Where's Lily?"

Harry pulled Albus into his arms, his chest heaving with grief. "It's going to be okay," he whispered, though he didn't believe it. "I've got you, Al. I've got you."

But it can for him too

"Daddy," Albus whispered, his voice breaking as golden flecks began to peel away from his small fingers. "I don't wanna go."

"No!" Harry cried, clutching him tightly. " Please don't go! I've got you, Albus. Stay with me!"

"Love you, Daddy," Albus said, his voice barely audible. And then he was gone, his small body crumbling into nothingness.

Harry knelt there, his arms empty, the golden ash drifting through his fingers. The toy broomstick lay abandoned on the grass. The stuffed unicorn sat upright where Lily had dropped it. Albus's blocks lay scattered, his half-finished tower a symbol of the life that had been stolen from them.

"Ginny…" Harry choked out, turning toward her. But ash was already curling around her fingers, her wand slipping from her hand as she stared at him in horror.

"Ginny, no," Harry pleaded, crawling toward her. "You can fight this! Please!"

"I love you," she whispered, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. She reached out for him, but before their fingers could touch, she was gone.

The silence was deafening. Harry knelt in the middle of the garden, surrounded by the remnants of his perfect life. He sat there for what felt like hours, his mind a storm of disbelief, anger, and grief. This couldn't be real. It had to be some twisted curse, some dark magic he hadn't encountered before. But deep down, he knew this was something else—something far beyond anything he'd ever faced.

And for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter felt truly helpless.

~Scene change~

Hermione Weasley's POV

The morning had begun with tension. It wasn't unusual for Hermione and Ron to argue—ten years of marriage had taught them how to weather disagreements—but this one had lingered. Ron's frustration had flared, and Hermione's sharp tongue had responded in kind. It wasn't serious, but it was enough to leave the air heavy with unspoken words.

"You can't keep throwing yourself into work like this, Hermione," Ron had said, pacing the kitchen while Rose sat quietly at the table, pushing her porridge around with a spoon. "Every magical creature in Britain doesn't need you all at once. We do."

"And you think I don't know that?" Hermione shot back, exasperated. "But someone has to do the work, Ron. If I don't, who will?"

"You'll work yourself into an early grave," he muttered, his ears turning red, the surest sign he was holding back harsher words.

Hermione had sighed, her shoulders slumping. Rose's wide brown eyes, so like Ron's, flicked between them, her small face clouded with confusion. Hermione knelt beside her, brushing a curl from her cheek. "Mummy has to go to work," she said softly, kissing her forehead. "You and Daddy are going to have a wonderful day together, aren't you?"

Rose nodded reluctantly, but her bottom lip trembled. Hermione turned to Ron, guilt twisting in her chest. "Take her to the park," she said. "Let her pick flowers or chase butterflies or whatever she wants to do. Just… make her smile, Ron."

"I can do that much," he said, his tone softening as he ruffled Rose's hair.

Hermione lingered a moment longer, then Apparated to the Ministry.

Hermione's day had started as usual in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She'd been preparing a proposal for expanded protections for werewolves, a project she'd been passionate about for months. The work kept her mind occupied, though echoes of the morning's argument lingered.

As she reviewed a report on merpeople colonies in the North Sea, a strange unease began to settle over her. It was subtle at first—an unusual stillness in the air, as though the building itself were holding its breath. She glanced up from her papers, frowning.

The first scream shattered the quiet.

Hermione bolted out of her office and into the corridor, where a group of witches and wizards had gathered in confusion. She pushed her way through, her wand in hand.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"It's happening everywhere," someone said, their voice trembling. "People are just… disappearing."

A young wizard beside her was clutching a clipboard, his face pale. "She was right here," he stammered, pointing to an empty space beside him. "We were talking, and then she just—she just vanished."

Hermione's heart pounded as she scanned the crowd. There was no sign of spellfire, no lingering trace of magic. It wasn't a curse, and it wasn't an attack. It was something else entirely.

"Everyone, stay calm," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We'll figure this out."

But even as she spoke, another figure dissolved into ash before her eyes. A witch who'd been mid-conversation stopped abruptly, her hand reaching out in confusion before her body broke apart, golden flecks spiraling into the air. Gasps and cries echoed through the hall.

"No…" Hermione whispered, dread pooling in her stomach.

She ran toward the enchanted windows at the end of the corridor. The scene outside was worse than anything she could have imagined. Diagon Alley was in chaos. Wizards and witches ran in every direction as people vanished around them. A young boy clung to his mother, screaming, before she crumbled into nothingness. An elderly wizard stumbled backward, his cane clattering to the ground as he disappeared mid-step.

It wasn't just the Ministry. It wasn't just Diagon Alley. This was everywhere.

Hermione turned back toward the corridor, panic clawing at her chest. "We need answers!" she shouted to the stunned witches and wizards around her. "Someone check the Department of Mysteries—there has to be something, anything, to explain this!"

But as she gave orders, her thoughts were already elsewhere. She hadn't seen Rose since that morning. Rose, with her curls and her bright smile and the way she called her "Mummy" like it was the most important word in the world. Rose, who was supposed to be safe with Ron.

Her hands shook as she gripped her wand. Without another word, she turned and sprinted toward the Floo Network.

Hermione stumbled out of the Floo and into the living room, her heart pounding. "Ron? Rose?" she called, her voice trembling.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. Her eyes darted around the room. Ron's jacket was draped over the back of a chair, his wand lying on the kitchen table. But there was no sign of him.

Then, a soft whimper broke the silence.

"Rose!" Hermione's breath caught as she rushed toward the corner of the room. Her four-year-old daughter sat on the floor near the window, clutching her tiny enchanted dragon, tears streaming down her face.

"Mummy!" Rose cried, her arms outstretched. Hermione scooped her up, holding her tightly against her chest, her own tears threatening to spill over.

"Rose, where's Daddy?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Where's Daddy, sweetheart?"

Rose hiccupped, burying her face in Hermione's shoulder. "He was here," she sobbed. "We were playing… and then he just—" She paused, her little hands clutching Hermione's robes tightly. "He was there, and then he wasn't."

Hermione's knees buckled, and she sank onto the couch, holding Rose close. Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The Ministry, Diagon Alley, now here. People disappearing without a trace. It wasn't just an isolated event. This was everywhere, and now it had taken Ron.

Hermione wiped Rose's tears with trembling hands. "It's okay, my love," she said softly, even though her heart felt like it was shattering. "I'm here. I've got you."

As Hermione sat there, rocking Rose back and forth, her eyes landed on the daisy chain on the coffee table—the one Rose had been making earlier that morning. Next to it was Ron's wand, left behind as if he'd only stepped out of the room. But he hadn't. He was gone.

Her fingers tightened around Rose protectively. Hermione wanted to collapse, to let the overwhelming weight of the moment break her, but she couldn't. Rose needed her. The world needed her.

She kissed the top of Rose's head, whispering, "We're going to be okay. I promise." But deep down, she wasn't sure if she believed it.

Chapter 1: A Fractured World

It was only later that the magical and Muggle worlds alike would piece together the truth: the event they had come to call "the Snap" wasn't as instantaneous as its name suggested. Instead, the Vanishing had unfolded over the course of roughly thirty-eight agonizing minutes—a period of growing confusion, terror, and heartbreak. People disappeared randomly, without pattern or warning, vanishing one by one in a golden shimmer of ash. By the time the last person faded, the damage had already been done. For those who had lived through it, those thirty-eight minutes would feel like an eternity, a surreal stretch of time where life unraveled one flicker at a time.

The wizarding world was unrecognizable.

In the days following the Vanishing, the magical community found itself gripped by the same chaos and confusion that had spread through the Muggle world. The Ministry of Magic, once a bastion of order and structure, now stood as a hollowed shell of its former self. Desks sat abandoned, papers scattered across the floors, and the once-steady hum of bustling corridors had given way to silence broken only by muffled cries and hurried footsteps. The enchanted ceiling in the Atrium, which usually depicted clear skies, was cracked and dim, reflecting the unease that had settled over the building.

Magical fires flickered weakly in their brackets, casting ghostly shadows over empty hallways. Half the staff had vanished in an instant, leaving those who remained scrambling to keep the magical world from collapsing entirely. Reports of rogue Dementors drifted in like ash, carried by harried memos that fluttered across the Ministry's broken communications network. The Auror Department, one of the few sections still fully operational, was overwhelmed by escalating crises.

The prison at Azkaban had been one of the first to fall. When half the guards disappeared, the ancient wards weakened, and the prison became a battlefield of chaos. Some prisoners had vanished into ash, but those who remained escaped, leaving destruction in their wake. Freed Death Eaters, emboldened by the fractured state of the world, rallied small bands of dark wizards to attack magical and Muggle communities alike. Rogue Dementors roamed unchecked, drawn to the despair hanging thick in the air.

Even Hogwarts, the great stronghold of magical learning, was struggling to adapt to its new role. The castle's stone walls, which had stood firm against so many threats, now housed children too young to understand what had happened to their families. Many of them had been sent to Hogwarts as a last resort, their guardians either vanished or unable to care for them in the chaos.

Among them was Teddy Lupin. Andromeda Tonks had been one of the first victims of the Snap, leaving Teddy without a home. Harry had sent him to Hogwarts, knowing that the boy would be safe within its walls, but the decision had weighed heavily on him. He had promised Remus and Tonks that he would care for their son, and now, as the boy looked to him for reassurance, Harry could only offer distance. Hogwarts would protect Teddy in a way Harry, burdened by the responsibilities of the Auror Department, could not.

The school had become more than a place of education. It was now a sanctuary. The staff, already stretched thin, had called upon seventh years to take on supervisory roles and older students to assist with the younger years. Professors like McGonagall and Flitwick worked tirelessly to maintain structure and order, but even the formidable headmistress could not ignore the toll it was taking. The once-lively Great Hall now hosted subdued meals, the laughter of children replaced by quiet murmurs and anxious glances.

The Statute of Secrecy was hanging by a thread. Muggles were beginning to notice the cracks. Reports of flickering lights, strange noises, and shadowy figures were spreading rapidly. Magical creatures displaced by the chaos wandered into Muggle neighborhoods, and attacks by dark wizards were becoming harder to conceal. Obliviators worked day and night to erase memories, but their numbers were dwindling. The line between the magical and Muggle worlds had never been thinner.

The Daily Prophet had named the event "The Great Vanishing," but the Muggle world had another name for it: The Snap. Whispers of a Muggle villain, a being called Thanos, began to filter into the magical community. Few believed it—after all, how could a Muggle be responsible for something so devastating? But the evidence was undeniable. This wasn't the work of dark magic or a rogue wizard. It was something far beyond their understanding.

In the midst of this chaos were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger-Weasley. Ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the weight of the world had once again fallen on their shoulders. Harry, now head of the Auror Department, worked tirelessly to maintain order, throwing himself into his work to avoid the emptiness waiting for him at home. Hermione, heading the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, balanced her professional duties with the overwhelming task of caring for her four-year-old daughter, Rose, who had lost her father to the Snap.

The loss was personal, sharp, and unrelenting. For Harry, it was the silence that haunted him—the empty house, the abandoned toys, the photograph on his desk of Ginny holding Lily while the boys played around her. For Hermione, it was the weight of Rose's wide, innocent eyes staring up at her, asking why Daddy wasn't coming home. Both carried their grief silently, unable to stop long enough to confront it.

But grief wasn't the only burden. The world needed leaders, and Harry and Hermione were all it had left. The wizarding world was teetering on the edge of collapse, and the only way forward was through action. Neither could afford to break—not yet.

As the days stretched on, rumors began to spread of a group of Muggles called the Avengers. They were said to be fighting the being responsible for the Snap, searching for a way to reverse the Vanishing and bring everyone back. The idea seemed impossible, even to Hermione, who had always believed in the power of knowledge and reason. But impossible or not, it was a spark of hope in a world desperately in need of it.

And as the magical world continued to unravel, Harry and Hermione found themselves drawn toward that spark. For the first time since the Snap, they had a chance to fight for something more than survival. They had a chance to bring their loved ones back.

The fractured wizarding world was desperate for a miracle. And Harry and Hermione were ready to do whatever it took to find one.

Scene change

The halls of the Ministry of Magic were quieter than Hermione had ever known them to be. The echoes of footsteps, once drowned out by the hustle and bustle of daily work, now reverberated through nearly empty corridors. Half the staff had vanished in the Snap, leaving offices abandoned, desks untouched, and tasks unfinished. The enchanted windows still cast sunlight across the floors, but the warmth they once brought felt hollow.

Hermione walked briskly toward her office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. A hovering stack of parchment floated ahead of her, filled with reports of displaced magical creatures causing havoc across the countryside. Griffins had been spotted in the forests of Wales, rogue Hippogriffs had wandered into Muggle neighborhoods, and entire colonies of bowtruckles were fleeing their habitats as dark wizards encroached on their lands.

The world was unraveling, and Hermione was running out of hands to tie the threads together.

As she pushed open the door to her office, her gaze immediately fell on the small figure curled up on the sofa in the corner. Rose, her four-year-old daughter, sat cross-legged with her favorite enchanted dragon clutched in her arms. The stuffed toy occasionally let out soft puffs of smoke, which made Rose giggle despite the heavy air that seemed to hang over the room.

"Did you have a good nap, sweetheart?" Hermione asked, forcing a smile as she set the stack of parchment on her desk.

Rose nodded sleepily, rubbing her eyes with one tiny fist. "I dreamed about Daddy."

Hermione's breath hitched, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she crossed the room and knelt beside her daughter, brushing a stray curl out of her face. "What did you dream about?"

"We were in the park," Rose said softly. "Daddy was chasing me, and I was laughing, and then… and then he was gone."

The words pierced Hermione's heart. She gathered Rose into her arms, holding her tightly as she blinked back tears. "It's okay, my love," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm here. I've got you."

Hermione set Rose up at a small table in the corner of her office, where she could color and play while Hermione worked. The sight of her daughter brought a strange mix of comfort and guilt. She couldn't leave Rose at home—not when the world felt so unstable—but every moment she spent balancing motherhood and leadership made her feel like she was failing at both.

The Ministry of Magic was barely holding itself together. Every department was inundated with reports—missing persons, rogue magical creatures, dark wizard activity—but the resources to address them were dwindling. Half the staff had vanished in the Snap, leaving those who remained stretched thin.

Hermione sat at her desk, pouring over yet another stack of reports. Each one seemed to detail another disaster waiting to spiral out of control. Rogue Acromantulas in Cornwall. Thestrals grazing in Muggle fields near Wales. Troll sightings in Scotland. And everywhere, dark wizards exploiting the chaos, emboldened by the Ministry's weakened state.

Elena, her assistant, entered the office with an armful of scrolls. "Another round from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she said breathlessly. "More reports of dark wizard activity. It's getting worse."

Hermione took the scrolls, her brows knitting together as she scanned the contents. Illegal curses. Attacks on Muggle-borns. Entire villages terrorized by rogue factions of Death Eaters. She let out a weary sigh and leaned back in her chair. "It's almost poetic, in a twisted way."

Elena looked at her, confused. "Poetic?"

Hermione let out a humorless laugh, waving a hand at the reports. "Half the world disappears, and somehow it feels like most of the good ones went with it. What's left behind?" She gestured at the parchment in front of her. "Chaos. Opportunists. People trying to tear apart what little we have left."

Elena hesitated, unsure whether to respond. "You… you don't really think that, do you?"

"No," Hermione admitted softly, her fingers tracing the edge of her desk. "But some days, it's hard not to."

For a moment, the weight of the world settled heavily between them. Hermione shook her head, snapping herself out of it. "Send word to the Auror Department. We'll need their help dealing with the Death Eaters in Cornwall. And alert the Obliviators—if any Muggles were caught up in this, we need to contain it quickly."

Elena nodded and hurried off, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. The jest had been a fleeting one, but it lingered in her mind. She didn't truly believe that only the good people had vanished—but there were days when it certainly felt that way.

Scene change

The Auror Department had never felt more suffocating.

Harry Potter sat at his desk, staring down at a map of Britain pinned beneath his fingertips. Colored dots blinked sporadically across its surface, each one representing a reported incident—attacks by dark wizards, rogue magical creatures, or skirmishes threatening the Statute of Secrecy. The map had once been a tool for precision and strategy, but now it felt like a record of failure. No matter how many dots he extinguished, new ones appeared faster than they could respond.

Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing midnight, but he was no closer to solving the problems that had stacked up over the day. His team of Aurors was stretched to its limits, their numbers cut nearly in half since the Vanishing. Those who remained were exhausted, running on fumes as they worked to hold the magical world together.

"Potter," came a voice from the doorway. Harry looked up to see his deputy, Auror Williamson, stepping inside. The older wizard's face was lined with weariness, his robes rumpled from a day spent in the field. "We've got confirmation on that Death Eater cell near Nottingham. They've holed up in the old Grindlewood estate."

Harry nodded. "How many?"

"Five, maybe six," Williamson said. "They've been hitting Muggle neighborhoods in the area. Obliviators are already cleaning up the mess, but it's only a matter of time before they move again."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of it pressing down on him. Death Eaters were like weeds—no matter how many they pulled up, more sprouted in the chaos left behind. He could already imagine the headlines in tomorrow's Daily Prophet: Ministry Fails to Contain Dark Forces.

"I'll take care of it," Harry said, standing and grabbing his coat. "Gather a team. We leave in twenty minutes."

Williamson hesitated. "You haven't been home in days, Potter. Maybe let me—"

"Just gather the team," Harry interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended. Williamson opened his mouth as if to protest, but thought better of it and left the room.

Alone again, Harry sank back into his chair, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but he couldn't stop. Not when the alternative was going home to an empty house.

His eyes drifted to the photograph propped up on the corner of his desk. It had been taken last Christmas at the Burrow. Ginny sat on the floor, laughing as she held Lily in her lap. James and Albus were in the background, wrestling over a box of Chocolate Frogs. Harry had never been good at keeping his eyes open during photos, and this one was no exception—but it didn't matter. It was perfect because they were together.

He reached out to straighten the frame, his fingers lingering on the edge. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine what might have been. Ginny's laughter echoing through the house, James and Albus chasing each other down the hall, Lily toddling after them with a toy broomstick. It had been a chaotic kind of joy, and Harry hadn't realized how much he'd taken it for granted until it was gone.

The image blurred as his throat tightened, and he turned the photograph face down on the desk. There was no time for this. Not now.

By the time Harry reached the briefing room, his team was already assembled. A group of six Aurors stood waiting, their faces a mix of determination and exhaustion. Some were barely out of training, their inexperience written in the nervous glances they exchanged. Harry pushed aside the flicker of doubt that rose in his chest.

"We'll approach from the west," he said, pointing to a mark on the map pinned to the wall. "They're likely using the house's wards to shield their movements, but the Grindlewood estate is old. Its protections will have weak spots. We'll focus on these points here and here." He tapped two locations on the map.

"And the Muggles?" one of the younger Aurors asked.

Harry's jaw tightened. "The Obliviators are handling it for now, but we can't afford any more exposure. If it looks like we're losing containment…" He trailed off, his voice hardening. "We don't lose containment. Understood?"

The team nodded. Harry's gaze swept over them, and for a moment, he felt the same pang of guilt he always did before a mission. He had been their age once, young and eager to prove himself. Now, he was the one sending them into danger.

"Let's move," he said, his voice steady. The group filed out of the room, their footsteps echoing in the corridor. Harry lingered for a moment, his eyes on the map. He knew this wasn't sustainable. The Auror Department was barely holding together, and every mission pushed them closer to the edge. But until something changed, all he could do was keep going.

As Harry Apparated away with his team of Aurors, his thoughts lingered on Hogwarts—the only place he could send Teddy after Andromeda vanished. It wasn't a decision he had made lightly, but in a world falling apart, the school was the only sanctuary left. He could only hope it was enough.

Hogwarts had become more than a school.

The Great Hall was quieter than it had ever been. The long, enchanted ceiling reflected a pale winter sky, but the usual warmth of the space felt muted. The tables, once filled with chattering students and clinking plates, now hosted smaller groups of children who spoke in hushed tones. For some, the castle's ancient walls offered comfort, but for others, it was a reminder of all they had lost.

Among them was Teddy Lupin.

The ten-year-old sat at the end of one of the house tables, pushing peas around his plate with a fork. His bright turquoise hair had dulled to a pale blue—a sign of his emotional state, though most of the younger students didn't understand its significance. He barely noticed the noise around him, his focus fixed on a small photo he kept tucked inside his robes. It was a picture of his grandmother, Andromeda, waving cheerfully as she tended to her garden. She'd vanished, just like so many others, leaving him with no one but Harry.

But Harry was busy. Teddy knew that. His godfather was doing what he always did—saving the world. And while Teddy wanted to be brave like Harry, it was hard to feel brave when the people who made you feel safe were gone.

"Are you going to eat that?" a small voice asked.

Teddy glanced up to see a younger girl from Ravenclaw eyeing his peas. She looked about eight years old, with a pair of round glasses that kept sliding down her nose. Her name was Clara, though Teddy barely remembered meeting her. Since the Snap, more and more children had been sent to Hogwarts, and Teddy struggled to keep track of them all.

"You can have them," he muttered, sliding his plate toward her. She grinned and scooped the peas onto her own plate.

Across the hall, Headmistress McGonagall stood at the teachers' table, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room. Hogwarts had always been a haven, but the castle had never been stretched like this before. With so many families torn apart, children had been sent here not just to learn, but to find safety. The youngest arrivals were as young as seven, far below the usual age of admission, and the staff had scrambled to accommodate them.

Older students—fifth, sixth, and seventh years—were called upon to act as teaching assistants and mentors. Prefects helped organize the younger children, ensuring they followed the rules and found their way through the vast castle. Those who had been too young to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts now found themselves stepping into leadership roles they'd never expected.

For McGonagall, it was a burden unlike any she had borne before. The castle's ancient wards still held strong, but she knew the cracks forming in the outside world would eventually test Hogwarts' defenses. The staff, though loyal and dedicated, was stretched thin. Classes were taught by whomever could step up, with Aurors occasionally assisting between missions. Even Hagrid, usually preoccupied with the grounds and the creatures in his care, had been pulled into supervising the influx of younger students.

She surveyed the tables as she sipped her tea, her sharp eyes noticing the subtle changes in the students. The older ones carried themselves with a gravity far beyond their years, while the younger children clung to one another, searching for any scrap of normalcy.

Teddy sat silently, clutching the photo of his grandmother beneath the table. Around him, students chattered in subdued voices, but he felt disconnected from it all. He missed Andromeda's gentle nagging, her careful hands fixing his robes before he left for school. Most of all, he missed the way her voice made him feel like the world wasn't so scary.

He glanced across the hall to the staff table, where McGonagall was speaking quietly with Professor Flitwick. They looked worried, though they always seemed to look that way now. Teddy wondered if they were talking about the Death Eater attacks. He'd overheard some of the older students mentioning them—whispering about villages being targeted and Muggles going missing.

"Hey, Lupin," a voice said, breaking into his thoughts. Teddy looked up to see a tall Gryffindor boy standing over him. It was Sam Whitehorn, a seventh-year prefect who had been assigned to help supervise the younger students. "You're not eating. You need to keep your strength up."

Teddy shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

Sam frowned but didn't press. Instead, he sat down beside Teddy, his tone softening. "You know, it's okay to feel scared. A lot of people are."

"I'm not scared," Teddy lied, looking down at his plate. His hair turned a pale gray, betraying his emotions. Sam didn't call him out on it.

"Well, if you need anything," Sam said, patting his shoulder, "just let me know."

As Sam walked away, Teddy looked back at the photo in his lap. He wanted to be brave, like Harry. But every day felt harder than the last.

Up at the staff table, McGonagall turned to Flitwick. "We can't keep this up," she said quietly. "The school was never meant to hold this many students, and with the Snap taking so many of their guardians…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "We're running out of resources."

"Not to mention teachers," Flitwick added. "I've lost count of how many lessons have been covered by seventh years this week."

"Seventh years who should be focusing on their own studies," McGonagall said. "But what choice do we have? The Ministry is stretched thin, and the parents who remain can't care for their children and manage the chaos outside."

Flitwick nodded gravely. "We'll endure. We always do."

McGonagall's gaze drifted back to Teddy, who was still sitting with his head down. She made a mental note to check on him later. No child should have to grow up so quickly, but the world wasn't giving him—or any of them—a choice.

The castle might be a sanctuary, but even sanctuaries had their limits.

Scene change

The Minister's office was quieter than usual. Normally a hub of bustling conversations and hurried decisions, it now felt eerily subdued, much like the rest of the Ministry. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat behind his desk, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of responsibility. A stack of parchment sat before him, filled with reports of chaos from across the wizarding world. The dim light from the enchanted windows reflected the grim mood in the room.

Hermione Granger-Weasley entered first, her steps brisk despite the exhaustion etched into her face. Harry Potter followed moments later, his expression as grim as Kingsley's. Neither spoke as they took their seats in front of the desk, waiting for the meeting to begin.

Kingsley looked up, his gaze sweeping over the two of them. "Thank you for coming. I know you're both stretched thin, but this couldn't wait."

"What's happened?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly. His tone was steady, but there was a sharp edge to it—the tone of someone who had been pushed to his limits.

Kingsley sighed, folding his hands on the desk. "A few things. First, we've received reports that dark wizard factions are growing more organized. They're targeting both Muggle and magical communities, exploiting the chaos left by the Snap. We've confirmed at least two attacks in the last week where Death Eaters were directly involved."

Hermione's jaw tightened. "And the Auror Department? Are they containing it?"

"Harry's team is doing everything they can," Kingsley said, nodding toward him. "But they're stretched thin. Half our Aurors are gone, and the ones who remain are running themselves ragged. We're at a breaking point."

Harry frowned but didn't respond. He didn't need Kingsley to remind him of the strain his department was under—he felt it every day.

"That's not all," Kingsley continued. "There's another problem. Corruption within the Ministry itself."

Hermione sat up straighter. "Corruption? What kind?"

Kingsley's expression darkened. "There are factions within the Ministry trying to use this crisis to their advantage. Some are pushing anti-Muggle policies, arguing that the chaos of the Snap proves Muggles are a danger to us. Others are advocating for abandoning the Statute of Secrecy entirely, claiming it's unsustainable."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said sharply. "The Statute is the only thing keeping the wizarding world from total exposure. If it falls—"

"If it falls, we won't be the ones deciding what comes next," Kingsley interrupted. "It'll be the dark forces out there who capitalize on the chaos."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling heavily over them.

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between Harry and Hermione. "That brings me to the other reason I called you here. We've been monitoring Muggle communications, trying to understand what they know about the Snap. And there's a group they're calling the Avengers."

Harry's brow furrowed. "The Avengers?"

"A group of Muggle heroes," Kingsley explained. "They've been fighting against the one responsible for the Snap—a being called Thanos. According to the intelligence we've gathered, they're searching for a way to reverse it."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Reverse it? Do you really think that's possible?"

"I don't know," Kingsley admitted. "But what I do know is that the Muggles are mobilizing, and they're moving fast. If they succeed, it won't just bring back their half of the world—it'll bring back ours too."

Harry crossed his arms, his expression skeptical. "And you think we should work with them?"

"I think we don't have a choice," Kingsley said firmly. "This is bigger than the Statute of Secrecy. If the Avengers are our best chance of undoing the Snap, we need to support them—discreetly if possible directly if necessary."

Hermione leaned forward, her mind racing. "How do you propose we do that? The magical and Muggle worlds are more divided than ever. The Ministry can barely manage its own problems, let alone liaise with Muggle governments."

"That's why I need the two of you," Kingsley said. "Harry, you've worked with Muggles before. You understand how they think. And Hermione, you're the smartest witch of your generation. If anyone can navigate this, it's the two of you."

Harry frowned. "You want us to liaise with the Avengers?"

"Yes," Kingsley said. "We've already intercepted reports of dark wizards trying to interfere with Muggle efforts. If we don't act, they could sabotage the Avengers' work before it even begins."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, the weight of everything he was already carrying. But she also saw the spark of determination—however dim—that mirrored her own.

"When do we start?" Hermione asked, her voice steady.

Kingsley smiled faintly, though his face remained grave. "Immediately."

As Harry and Hermione left the Minister's office, their steps echoed in the empty corridor. For the first time since the Snap, they had a clear path forward—however uncertain it might be. This wasn't just about saving the world. It was about bringing their families back.

A/N2: This concept wouldn't leave me alone and thought it good enough to write it down. I don't have plans to continue writing for now although if I still can't stop thinking about it I might continue writing it.

A/N3: the HP universe is taking a 10 year leap here. The battle of Hogwarts takes place in 2008 instead of 1998 basically taking on the MCU timeline but cannon is still cannon. Except with the epilogue in cannon of course