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Summary
Hermione Granger was just trying to have a normal Tuesday. You know: feed her overly dramatic cat, open a definitely-dangerous ancient armoire, ignore Cormac McLaggen until he wanders off to do whatever it is useless men do.
Instead, she got: A surprise heist, four suspiciously well-coordinated intruders in designer cloaks, one ancient book radiating “murder me” vibes and a front-row seat to what can only be described as a magical boyband breakup under extreme stress.
Inside the warehouse: Chaos, spells, and a near-bludgeoning featuring one decorative bust. Outside the warehouse: Harry Potter with 36 Aurors, a plan held together with sellotape and rage, and Ron Weasley seconds from committing murder on live Prophet coverage.
It’s like Ocean’s Eleven had a baby with Die Hard and gave it a wand, a trauma bond, and a lot of feelings no one is emotionally equipped to handle. The intruders say they want the cursed object. Hermione suspects what they really need is group therapy, juice boxes, and a very long nap.
The Vault is: 50% tension 30% sarcasm 20% bad decisions and 100% one Gryffindor witch with a coin-based panic button saving her own damn life while the wizards argue about tactical logistics.