Twenty Years After Hogwarts

Twenty years have passed since Voldemort died, and the wizarding world has supposedly outgrown hatred and oppression. Twenty years, and yet the promise is cracking. Hermione Granger sits in the Minister’s office, elected and despised: praised as the future, smeared as the “Mudnister.” The Daily Prophet is no longer just ink. It is a modern outrage machine—mirror-feeds, wireless segments, “leaks” timed to wound—fueling harassment that arrives by owl, by headline, by anonymous jinx in a crowd. Darkness hasn’t vanished, it’s just scattered. There is no Dark Lord now, only gangs running protection rackets, dealing cursed substances, and carving up territory. Lone black wizards sell their services to whoever can pay. New curses arrive from abroad faster than Aurors can keep up. In some districts, the Ministry still means safety. In others, people answer to whoever controls the street. Beneath all of it lies Gringotts. Post-war loans and the Goblin Panic left Britain tied up in enchanted debt; goblin gold sits in most homes, shops, and Ministry budgets. Push reforms too hard and the economy cracks. Do too little and anger grows, repackaged as “wizard pride” and used by smooth-talking populists who promise order while quietly bringing old hierarchies back. And beyond wizarding Britain, the Muggle world never stops watching. Phones, cameras, drones, viral clips—any spell can become a broadcast. The Statute of Secrecy doesn’t explode; it wears thin, one leaked incident at a time, each breach another scandal, another excuse, another spark. (Includes AC & Inner Self) (Yes I know, I just made a scenario about 'After Hogwarts'. But I was inspired.)