When the Ministry Aurors finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the frightened witches and wizards surged toward them at once. Everyone began talking over everyone else, pointing at broken tables, the ruined wall, the unconscious wizard on the floor, and the place where the black-robed stranger had disappeared.
The voices crashed together into one useless mess. Some people were shouting about stolen wands, some were demanding compensation, and others were describing curses with so much panic that the Aurors could barely tell what had actually happened.
"Sonorus!"
With no other choice, Kingsley Shacklebolt raised his wand to his throat and cast a spell. His voice boomed through the pub, deep and calm enough to cut across the rising chaos.
"Please calm down, ladies and gentlemen," Kingsley said. "Take your time, and speak one at a time. You can trust us to handle this."
"Enough shouting!" Dawlish barked beside him, far less gentle than Kingsley. He glared at the crowd and pointed toward the nearest witnesses. "You lot, one by one. Tell us exactly what happened here."
"Professor McGonagall…" Mr. Granger said uneasily.
He brought his daughter closer to Professor McGonagall, keeping one protective hand near Hermione's shoulder. The chaos in the pub had stripped away much of his earlier curiosity, replacing it with the cold concern of a parent who had just stepped into something far more dangerous than expected.
"Oh, I am terribly sorry, Mr. Granger," Professor McGonagall said, her expression tight with embarrassment and worry. "But please don't be alarmed. These are Aurors from the Ministry of Magic, and I believe they will resolve the matter."
"Excuse me," Hermione asked, looking from Professor McGonagall to the robed officials. Her bushy hair framed a face full of nervous intelligence, and even fear had not managed to silence her curiosity. "What is an Auror?"
"Aurors are officers of the Ministry of Magic," Professor McGonagall explained. "They are the closest wizarding equivalent to the Muggle police, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded quickly, absorbing the answer at once. Her father looked only slightly reassured, but he remained quiet for the moment, watching as the Aurors tried to make sense of the witnesses.
While the Ministry began its investigation inside the Leaky Cauldron, Tyler appeared elsewhere in Diagon Alley with a soft crack of Apparition. He stood before Gringotts Wizarding Bank, his black robes settling around him as if nothing unusual had happened at all.
Gringotts towered over the street in white stone, sharp, grand, and almost painfully polished compared with the crooked shops around it. It stood at the meeting point of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, where respectable business brushed shoulders with darker trade.
Among British wizards, Gringotts was said to be the safest place in the world after Hogwarts. That reputation was why generations of witches and wizards had trusted the bank with their gold, silver, heirlooms, and secrets.
The bank was run by goblins, and goblins were famous for being clever, sharp, and greedy. They guarded wealth with terrifying seriousness, but no one who dealt with them ever forgot that they would squeeze every Knut out of a wizard if given the chance.
Tyler looked up at the towering building. A goblin guard stood by the entrance, bowing stiffly whenever customers entered or left. Its long fingers rested near a weapon, and its dark eyes missed very little.
Tyler had been to Gringotts more than once. The inheritance left by his parents was stored in one of its vaults, not a fortune great enough to shake the wizarding world, but enough to support him comfortably until adulthood.
He was still watching the entrance when a father and son walked toward the bank. Both had platinum-blond hair, a pale shade rare enough among British wizarding families that their identity was almost obvious at a glance.
"Father, are we going to Gringotts to withdraw money now?" the boy asked.
"Yes," the man replied. His voice was cool, controlled, and faintly arrogant. "You need money for school supplies, and the household also requires a withdrawal."
The father and son belonged to the Malfoy family. In the British wizarding world, platinum-blond hair was practically a family banner for that old pure-blood line.
"Father, can I buy a broomstick?" the boy asked again, trying to sound casual and failing.
"No," Lucius Malfoy said without hesitation. "First-years are not allowed to bring broomsticks. Remember that, Draco, and do not waste money on pointless things."
"Hmph," Tyler sneered beneath his hood. "The Malfoy family. Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy. What a charming mess of bloodline pride and bad judgment."
Lucius heard him. His grey eyes turned cold as he looked toward Tyler, and one hand moved subtly closer to his cane.
"And who might you be?" Lucius asked, his voice smooth but dangerous.
Tyler did not answer. Instead, he raised the wand in his hand.
Lucius's expression changed at once. He pulled Draco behind him with a sharp movement and gripped his own wand tightly, every trace of lazy arrogance replaced by alert caution.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green flash burst from Tyler's wand. It did not fly toward the Malfoys, but toward the goblin guard standing before Gringotts.
Boom.
The goblin was struck by the Killing Curse and thrown backward. Its body hit the ground hard and lay still.
For a single second, the street froze. Then screaming tore through the air.
"Madman!" Lucius cursed, his face turning ugly.
Using the Killing Curse in front of a crowd was insanity. The war was over, Voldemort was gone, and even Death Eaters who had escaped punishment usually knew better than to display the Unforgivable Curses openly in the middle of Diagon Alley.
Witches and wizards began fleeing in every direction. Some ducked into shops, others stumbled over the cobblestones, and a few simply screamed as they ran, terrified that the black-robed wizard would turn his wand on them next.
Lucius seized the chance immediately. He dragged Draco away through the panicked crowd, moving fast without looking back. Draco seemed stunned, his face pale and blank as he allowed his father to pull him along.
"Hmph."
Tyler sneered and walked straight into Gringotts. By then, the goblins inside had already reacted, and more than a dozen armed guards rushed forward to block his path.
"Confringo!"
Tyler showed them no mercy. A violent Blasting Curse exploded among the goblin guards, throwing them aside in a burst of force and smoke.
"Confringo!"
"Confringo!"
Two more Blasting Curses struck the front entrance of Gringotts. Stone cracked, metal twisted, and the great doorway collapsed into rubble, blocking the exit with broken white masonry and dust.
Screams filled the bank's hall. Wizards who had come to deposit or withdraw money scattered in panic, while goblins shouted to one another in harsh voices and scrambled away from the blast.
Several customers dropped their bags of coins in their haste to escape. Gold and silver spilled across the polished floor, ringing brightly beneath the chaos.
"What do you want, sir?" a goblin supervisor demanded.
It stepped forward with several goblins behind it, its sharp face twisted with anger and alarm. Even frightened, the goblin's eyes remained calculating, as if it were already measuring the damage, the danger, and the cost.
"Isn't it obvious?" Tyler said slowly. He did not bother hiding the contempt in his voice. "I'm here to rob you, goblin."
He paid no real attention to the goblins blocking his way. If he had not been confident, he would never have come to Gringotts in the first place.
Goblins could use magic, and their enchantments were not to be underestimated. But in direct combat, Tyler did not believe they would be his match.
Raw magical power was his greatest advantage. Voldemort and Dumbledore stood far above ordinary wizards because the magic within them was far stronger than what most people possessed.
The same Blasting Curse, cast by Harry Potter or by Voldemort, would produce entirely different results.
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