Harry Potter and the Deep Freeze

The Ministry in Chaos

The frost that gripped the world had not spared the Ministry of Magic. Though still operational, its halls buzzed with tension and urgency, the air heavy with the weight of unanswered questions.

Deep in the heart of the Ministry, the Department of Magical Catastrophes was overwhelmed. Piles of reports lay scattered across desks, and harried wizards and witches darted about, their robes billowing as they tried to make sense of the relentless freeze.

The Minister's Dilemma

In his office, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, sat at his desk, his face etched with exhaustion. A steaming cup of tea sat untouched beside him as he pored over the latest reports.

A knock at the door broke his concentration.

"Enter," Kingsley said, his voice deep and steady despite his weariness.

Percival Savage, the head of the Department of Magical Catastrophes, entered, carrying a stack of parchments. "Minister, we've got updates on the frost's progression."

Kingsley gestured for him to proceed, leaning back in his chair.

Savage placed the reports on the desk. "It's spreading faster than we anticipated. Entire regions are completely frozen, and magical wards are failing to keep it at bay."

"What about the sanctuaries?" Kingsley asked, his tone sharp.

"We've identified several," Savage replied. "Most are small and struggling to sustain themselves. But there's one..." He hesitated.

"Go on," Kingsley prompted.

"Harry Potter's sanctuary," Savage said. "It's thriving. They've expanded rapidly and are even sending aid to other sanctuaries. Food, supplies, magical tools—they're managing to keep ahead of the frost somehow."

Kingsley's brow furrowed. "Harry? What's he done?"

"No one knows the full extent," Savage admitted. "But reports suggest he's created something extraordinary—something beyond anything the Ministry has managed."

The Wizengamot's Debate

Meanwhile, in the Wizengamot chamber, debates raged over how to handle the crisis. The ancient seats of power were filled with witches and wizards, their voices echoing as they argued.

"We should be pooling all resources into Ministry wards!" shouted Elphias Carrow, a grizzled member of the council. "Our priority is protecting this building and those who work here."

"And abandon the sanctuaries?" retorted Hermione Granger, her voice cutting through the noise. She had become a key figure in the Ministry's response to the frost, though her presence was polarizing.

"We don't even know if the sanctuaries can survive long-term!" Carrow snapped. "The Ministry is the backbone of wizarding society. If it falls, everything falls."

"But if we don't support the sanctuaries, what are we protecting?" Hermione shot back. "They're the future. People trust them because they've seen the Ministry fail time and again."

The room fell silent at her words.

The Frost's Mysteries

In the Department of Mysteries, Unspeakables worked tirelessly to uncover the frost's origins. Rows of enchanted devices buzzed and hummed as magical energy was analyzed, measured, and compared.

One Unspeakable, a sharp-eyed wizard named Alden, stared at a glowing map of the world. The frost was represented by a shifting silver haze that consumed everything in its path.

"This isn't natural," Alden muttered to his colleague.

"Of course not," the colleague replied, flipping through ancient texts. "But the question is: what caused it?"

Alden frowned. "It feels like... something sentient. Like it's not just spreading—it's searching for something."

"Or someone," his colleague added grimly.

The Ministry's Fractures

As the frost pressed closer to London, cracks within the Ministry's ranks began to show. Some departments were fully committed to combating the frost, while others focused on self-preservation.

Hermione, frustrated by the lack of unity, stormed into Kingsley's office late one evening.

"This can't go on," she said, slamming a stack of reports onto his desk. "The Ministry is supposed to lead, but all we're doing is arguing while people suffer."

Kingsley looked up at her, his calm demeanor unshaken. "What do you propose, Hermione?"

"We need to collaborate with the sanctuaries," she said. "Especially Harry's. If he's found a way to survive and help others, we should be supporting him—not ignoring him."

Kingsley sighed, leaning back in his chair. "You know how much resistance there will be. Many here still see Harry as a rogue element—someone who doesn't respect Ministry authority."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Maybe they should respect results instead. Harry's sanctuary is thriving while the Ministry scrambles to keep its wards intact. If we don't adapt, we'll be left behind."

The Beginning of Change

After Hermione left, Kingsley sat alone in his office, staring at the reports on his desk. He respected Harry—always had—but aligning the Ministry with the sanctuaries would be a monumental shift, one that would face fierce opposition.

But as the frost crept closer and the reports grew more dire, Kingsley knew one thing for certain: the Ministry couldn't survive this crisis alone.

He picked up his quill and began drafting a message to Harry.

"Harry, I need to know how your sanctuary is succeeding. The Ministry is ready to listen."

As the Ministry's lights flickered against the encroaching frost, a sense of urgency filled its halls. Decisions had to be made, alliances had to be formed, and the old ways of thinking had to change.

Whether the Ministry could adapt in time remained to be seen.