The Rise of the God-Emperor

CH 71: The Shattered Streets of Diagon Alley

It had been a month of quiet rebuilding and preparations, with Harry's forces growing stronger by the day. But in a sudden, brutal stroke, the Muggles had shattered that peace, launching an attack on Diagon Alley that would leave scars far worse than anything Voldemort had done during the war.

It started with explosions.

The ground beneath Diagon Alley trembled violently as bombs rained down from the sky, shattering the magical protections around the bustling street. Shops and buildings were reduced to rubble in seconds, the air filled with smoke and the screams of the wounded. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, the loud rattle of gunfire echoed through the once-peaceful alley, and Muggles, dressed in military gear, descended upon the street.

The Aurors, alerted almost immediately, Apparated to the scene, but they found themselves helpless against the Muggle attack. Bullets flew through the air faster than spells could be cast, and the chaos was overwhelming. They had no weapons capable of countering this type of assault, and it wasn't long before several of them fell, injured or worse.

Harry, however, had been ready for something like this.

The Defense of Diagon Alley

The moment news of the attack reached Hogwarts, Harry had gathered his team. Neville, Ginny, Luna, and a handful of others Apparated directly to Diagon Alley, bringing with them the Muggle resistance weapons Harry had designed to counter technology. Harry had expected an attack, though not this soon, and not with such devastating force. But they were ready.

The moment Harry and his group arrived, the tide began to turn. He activated an EMP device as soon as his feet touched the ground, and the blast pulsed through the air, disabling the Muggles' drones, radios, and other tech. The gunfire that had been so deadly just moments before sputtered into silence as the Muggles' equipment failed.

"Take the grenades!" Harry shouted, tossing several EMP grenades toward his group. "Disable everything you can."

Neville threw one toward a group of Muggles who had taken cover behind what remained of Flourish and Blotts. The explosion was quiet, but the results were immediate—every electronic device they carried was rendered useless, leaving the Muggles vulnerable.

Ginny, with a fierce look in her eyes, used her Sword of Nullification, cutting through the tech-driven armor of one Muggle soldier. The power source within the suit failed, and the man collapsed, helpless.

"Clear the area!" Harry ordered, his voice rising above the chaos. "We need to push them out of the Alley!"

Despite their efforts, the destruction was immense. Whole buildings were destroyed—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Ollivanders, Gringotts, and countless others were reduced to nothing more than rubble and debris. Bodies littered the street, some still, others groaning in pain. The once vibrant hub of the wizarding world was barely recognizable.

As Harry pushed forward with his team, driving the remaining Muggles back, it became clear that the battle wasn't going to be easily won. The Muggles were better equipped than he had imagined, and while his magical weapons gave them an edge, the damage had already been done.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, the Muggles began to retreat. Their tech disabled, and with no hope of reinforcements, they fled, disappearing into the hidden pathways and alleys that led back to the Muggle world.

The Aftermath

When the battle was over, the silence that fell over Diagon Alley was deafening. Smoke billowed from the remains of buildings, and the acrid smell of burning wood and metal filled the air. Harry stood in the center of the street, looking around at the devastation.

This wasn't like the attacks they'd faced during the war with Voldemort. This was worse. Entire sections of the Alley were destroyed—decimated by bombs and gunfire. And it wasn't just the buildings. People were dead.

Harry's heart clenched as he looked down at the body of a young witch who had been caught in the crossfire. Her wide eyes were still open, staring blankly at the sky. He had fought so hard to protect them, but in the end, there were still casualties.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his frustration and anger rising. But there was no time for grief, not now. He had to take control, had to lead.

"Neville," Harry said, his voice rough. "Gather the bodies. We'll take the dead to Hogwarts Cemetery. They deserve to be laid to rest properly."

Neville, pale but resolute, nodded and began organizing a group of witches and wizards to help transport the bodies. Some of the dead would be identified immediately, others would take time. But Harry would make sure every one of them was honored.

"Ginny, Luna," Harry called next. "I need you to take the injured to the hospital. Use both the hospital here at Hogwarts and St. Mungo's. Prioritize the most critical cases."

Ginny wiped blood from her brow, her eyes fierce with determination. "We're on it, Harry."

Without hesitation, she and Luna moved quickly, calling for others to help. The injured were lifted onto stretchers or supported by their friends and loved ones, their groans of pain filling the air as they were carried toward safety.

Harry's Leadership

Hours passed as Harry continued giving orders, organizing the chaos as best he could. The Ministry's Aurors had gathered, but their presence was overshadowed by the sheer devastation. They had been caught off guard, ill-prepared for an attack of this scale. It was Harry's team that had saved the day—Harry who was now organizing the recovery efforts.

"Move the supplies to the Alley's edge," Harry instructed to a group of wizards trying to salvage what little remained of the shops. "Anything we can save, we need to preserve. Start cataloging the damage."

It was as though Harry was everywhere at once—coordinating the rescue of the injured, ensuring that the dead were honored, and salvaging what could be saved from the destruction. He didn't rest, not for a moment. The weight of leadership was heavy on his shoulders, but he bore it with a silent determination.

By the time the sun began to set, Harry was still working. He hadn't eaten, hadn't slept in over 36 hours, and yet he pressed on, refusing to leave the site of the attack. His friends and allies moved around him, carrying out his orders, trusting his leadership without question.

The King's Command

The following evening, as the last of the bodies were transported to Hogwarts Cemetery, and the injured were receiving care, Harry stood in the ruins of Gringotts, his face pale and drawn from exhaustion. The cold night air did nothing to soothe his exhaustion, but there was no rest to be had.

"Harry," Luna's soft voice broke through the quiet. She had returned from helping with the wounded, her wide, concerned eyes fixed on him. "You need to rest. You haven't slept in days."

Harry shook his head. "I'll rest when it's done."

"Harry," Ginny added, stepping beside Luna, "you can't carry all of this on your own."

"I don't have a choice," Harry replied, his voice strained but unyielding. "These people are counting on me. I need to make sure everything's taken care of."

He turned toward them, his eyes dark with determination. "Schedule a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt. I need to speak with him about this."

Ginny hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. "I'll arrange it."

Harry's gaze swept over the Alley one last time before he finally turned to head back to Hogwarts. The battle had been won, but the war was far from over. And Harry would make sure they were ready for whatever came next.