0453 The Following Days

Words : 2219 Updated : Nov 3rd, 2025

Chapter 453 of "Harry Potter: The Golden Viper" begins revealing surprises: 0453 The Following Days The golden rays of the morning sun had barely begun to filter... Read on to find out!

0453 The Following Days The golden rays of the morning sun had barely begun to filter through the windows of the Burrow when Sirius his face etched with concern and a hint of anger, learned of the previous night's escapade. Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, had ventured out to the Quidditch pitch in search for his missing wand. This piece of news was delivered by an exhausted Mr. Weasley who had rushed home for a hasty breakfast before returning to his duties at the Ministry. This marked the first time Sirius had ever lost his temper with Harry. To punish Harry's reckless behavior, not only did he forbid Harry from accompanying him on the planned visit to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to see Remus, but he also confined him to the Burrow for the remainder of the summer holidays, prohibiting any excursions beyond Ottery St. Catchpole, effectively grounding Harry in a way he had never experienced before. The harshness of this decision sparked an immediate and fierce resistance from Harry. The argument that ensued between godfather and godson was explosive, causing the old house to practically tremor with the intensity of their disagreement. The shouting match reached such a fever pitch that it seemed as though the very roof might lift off its timbers and float away on the waves of their anger. In the end, it was Sirius who stormed out, his face ashen with anger. Harry, for his part, found himself with little choice but to comply with the punishment. After all, where else could he go? The Dursleys' house on Privet Drive was certainly not an option, and wandering off on his own would only serve to prove Sirius right about his recklessness. As the days turned into weeks, the wizarding world was caught in a whirlwind of excitement and speculation. News of the dramatic events that had unfolded during the Quidditch World Cup final spread like Fiendfyre through magical communities across the globe. The Daily Prophet, never one to miss an opportunity for sensationalism, had transformed overnight into what amounted to a personal portrait gallery for Bryan Watson, who had become an instant legend. For a fortnight straight, the front page of the Daily Prophet featured a rotating selection of captivating photographs depicting Bryan's duel with the dark witch Cliodna on the Quidditch pitch. These images, magical in nature, played out the battle in miniature, allowing readers to relive the intense moments again and again. From the second page to the very last, the Prophet was crammed with snapshots of Bryan's rare public appearances before that night. Candid shots of him stepping out of the Ministry, formal portraits taken at hastily arranged press conferences, and even the odd picture of him simply going about his day became the subject of intense scrutiny and admiration. The entire wizarding world seemed to have nothing but one topic of conversation: the spectacular showdown between Bryan Watson and the infamous dark witch. To put the magnitude of this event into perspective, one had to look back half a century to find a comparable moment in wizarding history. The last time the magical community had been so universally captivated was during the legendary duel between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald in Paris. That battle, often referred to as the duel of the century, had pitted the two greatest wizards of the age against each other in a clash that had reshaped the course of magical history. However, the passage of time had dimmed the collective memory of that momentous event. Most of the witches and wizards who had been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to witness that earth-shattering duel firsthand had long since passed on to the next great adventure. For the majority of the current magical population, tales of Dumbledore and Grindelwald's confrontation were just that – tales, passed down through generations, growing more mythical with each retelling. Few concrete records existed, and fewer still had ever seen any tangible evidence of the duel's true nature. In stark contrast, the battle between Bryan Watson and Cliodna had taken place before an audience of over a hundred thousand witches and wizards. The sheer scale of witnesses was unprecedented in magical history. These spectators, hailing from every corner of the globe and representing diverse magical communities, had inadvertently given Bryan a worldwide stage to demonstrate his extraordinary magical prowess. The aftermath of this display of power sent shockwaves through the highest echelons of magical governments. The International Confederation of Wizards, a body not known for its swift decision-making, passed a resolution at a speed that left many seasoned politicians slack-jawed in amazement. Without so much as a debate, they appointed Bryan Watson as the vice chairman of the council. The fact that Bryan himself was not present for the vote, nor had he expressed any interest in the position, did nothing to dissuade the Confederation. They considered the resolution valid, seemingly operating under the assumption that no sane wizard would refuse such an honor. But the Confederation was far from alone in its eagerness to align itself with the new star of the Wizarding world. Major wizarding organizations from various magical societies, sensing an opportunity to bask in reflected glory, extended symbolic olive branches to Bryan. These invitations came in the form of offers to take up prestigious – though notably powerless – positions within their ranks. The list of organizations vying for Bryan's attention was so extensive that it could have filled an entire page of the Daily Prophet, were the newspaper not already dedicated to singing his praises. Interestingly, and perhaps tellingly, Bryan hadn't responded positively to any of these offers, maintaining a silence that only seemed to fuel further speculation and admiration. Yet, as with any event of such magnitude, the wave of praise was not without its undercurrent of criticism and controversy. In the days following the incident, as the dust settled and the more somber task of accounting for casualties began, a disturbing picture emerged. Post-incident statistics, compiled by a joint task force of Ministry officials and St. Mungo's healers, revealed a grim truth. Over a hundred wizards, caught in the crossfire of Bryan and Cliodna's duel, had failed to escape the Quidditch stadium in time. While the swift and tireless efforts of the staff at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries managed to save many lives, pulling witches and wizards back from the very brink of death, not all were so fortunate. A significant number of those caught in the magical crossfire lost their lives on the pitch, their final moments spent amidst a spectacle of power that they had not come to witness as entertainment. The families of the deceased, their grief raw and their anger palpable, were understandably unwilling to let the matter rest. United in their sorrow and their demand for justice, they organized themselves into a group. With determination born of loss, they stormed the British Ministry of Magic and demanded severe punishment for Bryan Watson, the man they saw as responsible for their loved ones' deaths. The Ministry, caught between the rock of public adoration for Bryan and the hard place of grieving families seeking justice, pulled out all the stops in an attempt to deflect and pacify. For those families willing to accept monetary compensation – though many saw this as an insult to the memory of their lost ones – the Ministry offered substantial additional payments, hoping that galleons might soothe where words could not. For those adamant about seeing Bryan Watson punished, the Ministry employed a different tactic. They worked tirelessly to shift the blame onto Cliodna, constructing a narrative that painted their loved ones as victims of the dark witch's malice. According to this version of events, promulgated by Ministry spokeswizards at every opportunity, Bryan Watson had done everything in his considerable power to save as many lives as possible. The implication was made clear: without his intervention, the death toll would have been far higher. This explanation, carefully crafted though it was, failed to convince everyone. Many of the grieving families saw through what they perceived as a transparent attempt to protect a new national hero at the expense of truth and justice. Frustrated by the Ministry's stonewalling, they turned their attention to another powerful institution in the wizarding world: The Press.Th.ê most uptod/ate novels a/re published on n(0)velbj)n(.)c/o/m The families rushed en masse to the offices of the Daily Prophet. Their hope was simple– to make their voices heard through the pages of the newspaper, to share their stories of loss and their demand for accountability with the wider wizarding world. The Daily Prophet's response to this emotional plea was, to put it mildly, underwhelming. In what many saw as heartless dismissal of genuine grief and valid concerns, the newspaper mentioned the matter only briefly. This fleeting acknowledgment was buried in a small column on the last page, a spot usually reserved for word puzzles and advertisements for second-hand cauldrons. After that single, paltry mention, the issue sank like a stone in the Black Lake, disappearing from the public discourse as if it had never existed. The Daily Prophet returned to its regularly scheduled praise of Bryan Watson, and the voices of the bereaved were effectively silenced. Beside Harry, Ron, who had been listlessly pushing food around his plate, suddenly perked up. His posture straightened, and he pricked up his ears, his eyes fixed intently on his father. Mr. Weasley sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "No, Ludo's gone to Paris recently," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "He's there to, um, prepare for another event." A pause, then, almost as if he couldn't help himself, he added, "Honestly, he's quite crafty, dodging all the trouble. I rather envy him—" He broke off suddenly, as if realizing he'd said more than he intended. Quickly, he attempted to redirect the conversation. "Why, did you need him for something?" The question was accompanied by a wide yawn that seemed to crack Mr. Weasley's jaw. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, showing his exhaustion. George opened his mouth to respond, a determined look on his face, but before he could get a word out, Mrs. Weasley bustled in from the kitchen. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on her husband's exhausted state, and her face softened with sympathy. "Go get some sleep, Arthur," she said gently, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "The Ministry might send word again in the middle of the night." "That's a certainty—" Mr. Weasley muttered between yawns. No longer concerned about why George was asking about Ludo, he stood up unsteadily and wobbled towards the stairs. "You all need to turn in early tonight too!" Mrs. Weasley said to the others. "Hogwarts has sent the list of items you'll need for next term. We need to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy your school supplies." "Can I go too?" Harry asked, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, of course, dear!" Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry affectionately. "But Sirius—" "My word is final in this house, Harry—" Mrs. Weasley said with a smile. "I think you've learned your lesson, and besides, we need to buy a couple of special items of clothing. You simply must come along!" "What special clothing?" Ron, who had been watching his father climb the stairs until he disappeared from view, immediately turned his head back upon hearing his mother's words. "Oh—" Mrs. Weasley's eyes twinkled. "You'll find out tomorrow, Ron. Now, off you go— shower and get to bed." Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley siblings gradually stood up and headed upstairs. The prospect of going to Diagon Alley greatly improved Harry's mood, making him less eager to discuss with Ron and Hermione about Professor Watson bringing the dark witch to justice. "I wonder if Professor Dumbledore has found a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Harry thought aloud. "He'll figure something out," Hermione said. "And if no one else is willing to take the job, I'm sure Professor Watson would step in." 'If Professor Watson were to teach them again, that would be the best possible outcome.' Harry didn't voice this thought, but it was on his mind. After witnessing that duel on the night of the Quidditch World Cup final, no one would pass up the chance to learn a thing or two from Professor Watson. Harry had made up his mind that no matter how challenging it might be, he would stick with Professor Watson's physical education class. Reaching the third floor, Harry opened the door and was about to enter. Hermione, not ready to sleep yet, followed Harry into the room, intending to discuss the recent news from the Ministry of Magic. However, Ron stopped at the doorway. Faced with Harry and Hermione's puzzled looks, Ron hesitated before saying, "I need to talk to Fred and George about something—" With that, Ron headed up to the fourth floor. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and simultaneously let out a sigh. ******************************* For More Chapters; /FicFrenzy

0453 The Following Days

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