The British Ministry of Magic, a dilapidated main hall.

Two Ukrainian Ironbellies rampaged through the hall, their scorching dragon fire turning the place into a hellish landscape.

Not far away, Aurors roared and spells clashed in the air, interspersed with the sharp, piercing cries of goblins.

The once-gleaming dark wooden floors were all overturned, and the surrounding walls, brickwork, and ebony paneling were covered with terrifying marks.

On the peacock-blue ceiling, most of the shimmering golden symbols were shattered...

Rubble, flames, roars, rumbles...

All sorts of chaotic noises, lights, and chaotic scenes filled the entire space of the Ministry of Magic's hall.

Cornelius Fudge never imagined that, as Minister for Magic, he would one day order the destruction of the Ministry of Magic.

However, he did not regret it—

In fact, Cornelius Fudge felt he had never been so excited.

The Minister seemed to be bathed in scorching flames, his entire being radiating an abnormal excitement. The wand in his hand was clenched tightly, like a drawn sword, and at the "tip" of Cornelius Fudge's "sword" stood a tall, thin man.

"Surrender, Voldemort, the Ministry of Magic is not a place for you to run wild!"

"Oh, really? Just with these two foolish beasts?" a cold, high-pitched voice replied.

In the center of the Ministry of Magic's hall, a man wearing a black hood stood there, each wave of his wand carrying a chilling, suffocating pressure. Invisible magical blades cut through the air, carving horrifying wounds on the dragons.

Foul-smelling, scorching dragon blood splashed around like a fountain amidst the dragons' violent roars.

And amidst the rain of blood and the light of spells, more terrifying was the man's inhuman face.

The horrifying snake-like face was pale and haggard, and a pair of narrow red eyes flashed with murderous intent.

Voldemort, recognized by the British magical world as the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time.

Just as the Death Eaters had declared in Paris, he was waiting at the British Ministry of Magic for Cornelius Fudge and others to arrive.

However, the arrogant Voldemort clearly never expected that the first round of counterattack from the British Ministry of Magic would be two light plastic boxes.

Along with those two Ukrainian Ironbellies, the largest dragons in the magical world appeared in the Ministry of Magic's hall, and from that moment on, tonight's magical defense war completely deviated from Voldemort and the Death Eaters' script—all the magical traps and ambushes targeting the Aurors were rendered useless.

Hundreds of Aurors from all over the world relied on the dragons to suppress with spells, and even a "Demon King" level Voldemort could not reverse the situation.

"Ministry of Magic, goblins... very good... you will understand the price of angering the Dark Lord—"

Voldemort swept his cold red eyes over the crowd in the hall. Surrounded by the dragons, goblins, and Aurors, this most dangerous Dark wizard of all time might still be holding his own for now, but his Death Eaters were clearly on the verge of collapse, and defeat was only a matter of time.

Not to mention, the longer they fought in the Ministry of Magic, the more support the Ministry of Magic would receive.

Compared to the French Ministry of Magic's sluggish response speed, the British Ministry of Magic's mobilization speed and efficiency were clearly much higher.

As Cornelius Fudge and his party arrived in London, the Ministry of Magic employees gathered at the Leaky Cauldron also received the order to launch a full-scale attack. Under the organization of Rufus Scrimgeour, Barty Crouch and others, they poured into the Ministry of Magic like a tide, closely following the Aurors.

If it weren't for the fear of the Killing Curses cast by the Dark wizards, perhaps this righteous magical counterattack would have ended much sooner.

"You... everyone will die—"

Voldemort said viciously, abruptly raising his wand and waving it around like a whip.

Flames exploded in the Ministry of Magic's hall, emitting a deafening roar. The intense air currents even pushed the two dragons back several meters.

The dragon fire spewed by the two Ukrainian Ironbellies seemed to come to life, twisting and entwining in mid-air, transforming into a more massive, three-headed fire serpent in a matter of seconds, turning around and lunging at the Ministry of Magic's crowd, hissing angrily.

"Careful, this is a magical war-grade Fiendfyre Curse—Finite Incantatem—"

Someone shouted from the crowd, and everyone instinctively turned their wands, stood in front of their chests, and adopted a defensive posture.

After the Armenian Forest, and the recapture of a dozen Ministries of Magic, even the Aurors of the British magical world knew what a "war-grade" Dark magic was. No one knew how strong Voldemort really was, but one thing was certain: he was at least stronger than two mad dragons.

On the other side, taking advantage of the Ministry of Magic's defensive posture, Voldemort took a deep breath and said with hatred:

"Retreat! Let them go for now, take everything that can be taken—"

"Damn, they're trying to escape!" Scrimgeour, who had rushed over, was the first to react, and his wand quickly pointed forward.

However, just as his spell was cast, countless "Finite Incantatem" surged forward as well. The seemingly menacing giant three-headed fire serpent exploded in mid-air, turning into a rain of fire that scattered in all directions, blocking the Ministry of Magic's path of pursuit.

When the fire gradually dissipated, the place where Voldemort and the Death Eaters had stood was already empty.

The two dragons were still roaring in pain, and goblin dragon tamers and a few wizards were trying to soothe them.

More wizards, however, were still gripping their wands tightly, nervously looking at the surrounding ruins, seemingly worried that Dark wizards would reappear from the shadows at any moment.

The air was filled with a hot, bloody smell, mixed with the scorched smell of burning cloth and wood, which smelled somewhat nauseating.

The Dark Lord's forces had been repelled, and the Ministry of Magic building was back in the hands of the various magical governments.

But for Cornelius Fudge, and most of the wizards present, the long day had just begun.

After a few perfunctory cheers, the crowd dispersed.

The Aurors from other magical governments had to return to their respective magical worlds to assist their respective magical governments in cleaning up the mess after the Dark magic invasion.

The British Ministry of Magic's staff, who had been urgently summoned from their sleep, began to repair the broken elevators, and, under the command of the heads of various departments, began to count the losses of the Ministry of Magic. Gringotts goblins then divided into smaller groups and began their new work ahead of time:

As a designated partner of the Ministry of Magic, they would calculate the loss situation in various places, as well as the various cost of "post-disaster reconstruction."

Of course, in addition to this, the goblins also shouldered a more important "temporary" request—to assist the Ministry of Magic's Aurors in eliminating possible magical traps in every corner of the Ministry of Magic.

Or rather...

Eliminate the superfluous traces of the "crime scene"...

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Hooray!