---
*Squeak!*
The door to Gringotts slowly opened, revealing a group of goblins who nearly wept with relief at the sight of Scrimgeour, as if he were a long-lost relative.
Scrimgeour regarded Dyroth's recent actions as evil, completely oblivious to the growing hostility in the crowd around him.
Several quick-thinking Aurors, taking advantage of the tension, gathered information from the surrounding witnesses. One of them hurried to Scrimgeour's side, explaining the situation more objectively. Unlike the goblins, this Auror didn't put all the blame on Dyroth nor did he exaggerate Dyroth's heroism; he simply relayed the facts.
After listening, Scrimgeour didn't dismiss the crowd. Instead, he kept his cold eyes fixed on Dyroth, silently appraising him. Based on what had transpired, Dyroth hadn't done anything wrong, nor was there any solid evidence against him.
However, Scrimgeour's keen instincts as an Auror made him suspicious—the Saints were somehow involved in this incident.
"You lot, wait here and keep an eye on them. I'll take another team inside to investigate," Scrimgeour ordered his Aurors, taking a lingering, hard look at Dyroth before heading towards Gringotts with his team.
Dyroth, disliking the unnecessary delay, sensed the Aurors' intentions. They had clearly been instructed to prevent anyone from leaving, causing further unrest among the wizards.
Dyroth raised his hand, signaling for the crowd to remain calm and wait quietly.
Half an hour passed, and still, nothing stirred inside Gringotts. The sun was high in the sky now, its winter rays blinding. Frustration grew among the wizards, with many voicing their dissatisfaction with the Ministry's handling of the situation, demanding to leave.
"What does the Ministry of Magic even do? We were just trying to help!" one wizard shouted.
"Yeah, let us go! Or we'll take action ourselves!" another threatened.
"Honey, please calm down," a witch murmured to her husband.
"Shut up! If you interrupt me again, I'll make sure you regret it!" the man snapped back.
The tension was palpable. The Aurors, now struggling to maintain control, glanced anxiously at Dyroth for assistance.
Dyroth, however, had his own concerns. He had business to attend to, including the Saint's store. If he stayed here any longer, it might affect the shop's operations—and who would be accountable for those losses?
Just as the situation teetered on the edge, Scrimgeour emerged from Gringotts with several goblins in tow.
"What's all this noise about?" he asked, his voice sharp.
"Director, the wizards here want to leave. Should we...?" an Auror began to explain.
Scrimgeour waved his hand dismissively. "Let them go!"
A collective sigh of relief spread through the crowd, and people began to disperse. But before they could leave, Scrimgeour's sinister voice echoed once more:
"But Mr. Grindelwald, you're coming with us."
"Me?" Dyroth felt his heart skip a beat, but he quickly recalled that he hadn't been at the scene of the crime. His body relaxed.
"When the explosion at Gringotts happened, I was hosting an event at the store. I wasn't there. Why are you arresting me, Mr. Scrimgeour?" Dyroth asked calmly.
"Mr. Grindelwald, you might have an alibi, but your Saints don't," Scrimgeour sneered, his eyes narrowing as he glared at the group behind Dyroth.
"You have a choice, Mr. Grindelwald. You can come with me voluntarily, or I can arrest one of your Saints instead. Saints talk more easily than you do," he added with a cruel smile.
"Dyroth!" Vinda pulled out her wand instinctively, standing protectively in front of Dyroth.
Dyroth gave her a small, reassuring smile and gently lowered her hand.
"It's fine. I'll go with them," Dyroth said, his voice calm.
Scrimgeour's smile widened as if his plan had fallen perfectly into place. He motioned for the Aurors, who swiftly stepped forward to arrest Dyroth.
The Saints couldn't tolerate this injustice. They reached for their wands, prepared to defend their leader.
"Don't move," Dyroth commanded, his voice still gentle but now laced with undeniable authority.
He locked eyes with Scrimgeour. "I hope you won't regret this decision."
Scrimgeour laughed. "Mr. Grindelwald, that's none of your concern. Let's go!"
With his goal achieved, Scrimgeour turned on his heel and left without a backward glance.
The crowd watched in stunned silence.
Then, a witch broke free from her husband's grip, fury etched across her face. "How could you just let them take him?" she cried. "Mr. Grindelwald fought the goblins for us! He gave us discounts at his store, showed us kindness, and this is how we repay him?"
The crowd remained quiet, guilt weighing heavily on them.
"What does the explosion at Gringotts have to do with him?" she continued. "Dyroth stood up for us, knowing he would get into trouble. And yet, when the time came to stand up for him, we just stood by..."
Her husband tugged at her sleeve, murmuring, "Wife, enough..."
She pulled away from him, her face twisted in disgust. "You spineless coward. I'm going to the Ministry to demand answers. If any of you still have any sense of honor, you should be ashamed."
With that, she apparated away, leaving the crowd to stew in their remorse.
---
The British wizarding community erupted into chaos. This was a time for celebration, for peace—but now, that tranquility had been shattered. On Christmas Eve, a bombing at Gringotts, and instead of investigating the true culprits, the Ministry had arrested an innocent man who had only been helping with the rescue.
---
*Malfoy Manor*
Lucius Malfoy frowned as he read the headlines. "What is the Ministry playing at?"
Draco stormed into his study. "Father, Dyroth was framed! You have to help him!"
"I'll gather a few other families and visit the Ministry. We'll demand answers from Fudge," Lucius said, standing up. "Narcissa, make sure Draco is ready for tonight's dinner."
---
*Hogwarts*
In the headmaster's office, the four house heads had gathered in front of Dumbledore.
"I know why you've come," Dumbledore began, but before he could continue, Professor Sprout interrupted.
"Headmaster, Dyroth is a good boy! He was only trying to help. We can't let him be wronged like this!" she exclaimed, her face set in determination.
Professor Flitwick nodded in agreement. "The facts are clear. This injustice can't stand."
"Whatever happens, we must ensure no Hogwarts student is slandered," McGonagall said firmly.
Snape said nothing, but his silence meant the same as others.
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---
With the help of Vinda, the news of Dyroth's arrest spread rapidly.
Many old members of the Saints, who had deep connections in the UK, began reaching out to their long-time friends.
These connections were all elites, though not necessarily in high positions, and their united outcry forced the Ministry of Magic to take the situation seriously.
---
Meanwhile, in Romania, the Weasley family also heard the news.
Mrs. Molly Weasley, who had once been an elite Auror, nearly exploded in rage.
"How could they do such a thing?!" she fumed. "Dyroth is such a good boy! We mustn't let him be wronged!"
Arthur Weasley, always the calm one, tried to reason with her. "Let's think this through, Molly. Maybe we can talk to—"
"Talk?!" Molly cut him off, her voice rising. "We're going back to England immediately! I'm going to ask Scrimgeour what in Merlin's beard he thinks he's doing!"
Even Ginny, who didn't fully understand the Ministry's workings, nodded in fierce agreement. "That's right! Let's go!"
---
At the British Ministry of Magic, in the Auror's office, Dyroth sat in his chair, unfazed. He acted as if he were merely at home. The Aurors around him watched him warily, unsure of what he might do next.
Suddenly, the door flew open. In strode a young woman with pink hair and a leather jacket—Nymphadora Tonks.
"Tonks, what are you doing here?" one of the Aurors warned. "The director said no one is allowed to approach him!"
Tonks scoffed, as if she had heard the most ridiculous thing ever.
"Dangerous? An eleven-year-old boy is dangerous?" she said incredulously. "You lot are treating him like a criminal!"
Ignoring the warnings, she walked right up to Dyroth, pulling out pieces of bread from her pocket and placing them on the table.
"Here, eat something," she said kindly, noticing the confusion in Dyroth's eyes. "Don't worry, there's no magic in them."
As a show of trust, Tonks grabbed a piece herself and took a bite. Only then did Dyroth realize who she was—Nymphadora Tonks, the Metamorphmagus and member of the Order of the Phoenix, married to Remus Lupin. She was the niece of Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, rebellious but righteous, and destined to die in the final battle at Hogwarts in the original timeline.
Unexpectedly, here she was, offering him help.
"Eat up," Tonks urged, smiling reassuringly.
Just as Dyroth reached for the bread, the door opened again, and Scrimgeour stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Who brought this in?!" he shouted. "Who allowed food in here?"
Tonks didn't back down. "When did the Ministry rule that children aren't allowed to eat bread?" she retorted, stepping forward.
Scrimgeour's scowl deepened. "He's not just a child—he's a criminal!"
Tonks' face darkened with anger. "A criminal? For what—saving people? Or is it because he didn't bring you candy, Little head Auror?"
"Nymphadora!" Scrimgeour barked, using her full name.
Tonks' temper flared. "What did you just call me?" she spat. Everyone knew she hated her given name, and Scrimgeour had just poked the bear.
Several Aurors tried to calm things down, wisely pulling Tonks out of the room before things escalated further. One Auror leaned in to whisper something to Scrimgeour—Dyroth caught snippets like "Minister… uproar outside…"
A smile crept onto Dyroth's face. Public opinion might not always change things, but ignoring it came at a price. Scrimgeour knew it too.
"The matter is resolved!" Scrimgeour growled, visibly agitated. "If I let him go now, where's the Ministry's honor?"
"we don't need to worry about that," one Auror said nervously. "There's more than enough going on outside!"
Scrimgeour pulled a chair up to sit opposite Dyroth, his eyes narrowing. "I suggest you start cooperating, or things will get worse for you. Tell me, why were you at Gringotts today?"
Dyroth remained calm, his tone steady. "I went there to save people."
Scrimgeour slammed his fist on the table, face red with frustration. "You're still lying! Do you really think I won't take action against you?"
But Dyroth knew better. If the Ministry had any real evidence, he'd have been thrown into court by now. Instead, they were stuck questioning him in a waiting room, which meant they had nothing substantial.
"If I walk out of the Ministry with so much as a scratch," Dyroth said coolly, "what do you think the wizards outside will do?"
Scrimgeour felt a chill. The boy's confidence was unnerving—he saw right through him.
"I'll deal with you one way or another!" Scrimgeour snapped. "Bring me the Veritaserum. I want the truth from this saint!"
Gasps filled the room. Veritaserum was tightly regulated, especially when used on minors.
"Director, please reconsider!" one Auror pleaded. "The public would riot if they found out we used Veritaserum on an eleven-year-old!"
"You can't do this!" another Auror insisted. "The pure-blood families would retaliate! Many of them aren't exactly 'clean' either!"
But Scrimgeour, breathing heavily, was too far gone. "I'll take responsibility! If anyone wants to come for me, let them!"
---
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Ministry, a crowd had formed outside Fudge's office. The floor, which was usually quiet, was now buzzing with activity. Ministry staff tried to contain the situation but were overwhelmed by the number of high-profile wizards demanding answers.
Suddenly, the door to Fudge's office was flung open, and a wizard stepped inside, his voice ringing with authority.
"Minister Fudge," he declared, "you owe the British wizarding community an explanation. Since when has the Ministry of Magic become a puppet for the goblins of Gringotts?"
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