53 Summary of the battle

I could see that the woman was running harder with each step, but she was still ahead of me, being the first to reach the lift to the upper floors.

- Bombarda Ma-Xima! - The explosive spell hit the slamming door.

The second lift was free.

- Protego Ma-Xima - Light Circle. - Defence spells lay on me, protecting me from the first possible attack upstairs. I didn't allow myself to think, turning my mind into a honed blade aimed at a single target. If I allowed myself to think about... I would simply break now.

I feared in vain, however, and saw only Bellatrix's back, still waddling briskly into the hall where the apparatus was already possible.

She had only a few steps to go before she was in an area where the blocking spells didn't work - the floorboards marked with special paint showed where it was possible to apparate from.

- Crucio. - An orange beam struck the back of the woman who couldn't dodge. The curses she had received during the battle had weakened her enough to make her no different from a normal mage.

A shriek of unbelievable, unbelievable pain echoed through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, making the windows shake. The woman was rolling around on the stone floor, her bloody hands smashing against the stone floor, clawing at the slabs with breaking nails, and I slowly, holding the spell, came closer. With a distorted face covered in soot and blood, I looked like some kind of black wizard.

- Harry? - An exclamation from the side of the apparatus bay forced me to look away from the squirming Bellatrix. Dumbledore.

- Expelliarmus. - The woman's wand flew out of its sheath, heading for my hands. The screaming stopped.

- Harry, how could you? - Dumbledore was furious. - You used a forbidden curse on a woman.

- THAT WOMAN KILLED SIRIUS! - My scream was completely insane. - And you, old man, instead of coming here right away, you ran to round up your jackals.

The wand aimed at the old wizard's forehead.

- Avada... - Dumbledore's eyes widened in surprise, several of the wizards who had come with him reached for their wands, but they were not in time.

- Desine verba! - A twin scream behind me. Coldness gripped my hand and lips, preventing me from completing the Death Curse.

On either side of me were Ciaran and Alastor, both pale and burnt, but ready to fight.

- Harry, he's alive. - Moody blurted out, not taking his eyes off his former Order of the Phoenix comrades.

It was like the air had been sucked out of me.

- He was covered in debris and badly burned, but he's alive. - Alastor stopped my hand from reaching for his dagger. - It's all over downstairs, the Revelers are dead.

- I have to get Bellatrix... and Harry. - Dumbledore spoke imperiously, heading towards us. His men scattered around the hall, pointing their wands at us.

- No, old man, I'm not going with you. - I had already broken free of my friends' curse, and pointed my weapon at the Headmaster again.

Ciaran quickly leaned over a still stunned in pain Bellatrix, twitching in spasms, and picked up my belt.

- Give it to me! - Dumbledore blackened with anger as he discerned the glow of the orb through one of the containers on my belt. - This prophecy must not see the light of day.

- Better yet, it should see me! - A powerful wave of shadow magic rushed in all directions from the Orders' vacated apparatus bay.

- Sphaeos Spiritus! - Alastor and I shouted almost simultaneously, covering ourselves and Ciaran, who didn't recognise what we were being attacked with.

The Ordinaries were less fortunate, their bodies slumped to the ground, but I knew they were alive - they had been struck with the Shadow of Sleep amulet, which plunged them into the worst nightmares and had no reliable counterspell or defence, but it didn't kill. Sirius had shown me the battle with the Devourers in the memory hole, where Voldemort had used it.

Dark streams flowed down from the Headmaster, surrounded by a haze of protection, and from the three of us. The Dark Lord stood in the centre of the platform, leaning on a carved wooden staff with a sharp tip. I could see that he had changed a lot in the past year-the inhuman features and the scarlet fire of his eyes, the slit nose gone. He was an ordinary man now - if it weren't for the aura of incredible power and hatred that surrounded him.

- Avada Kedavra. - A green beam from my wand struck the back of Bellatrix, who had tried to crawl up to her master.

- You..." Voldemort hissed at me. A torrent of raging wind, woven of steel needles, darkness, and fire, struck from his hands.

- I. - The triple shield of our spells held, but the wave threw us twenty metres away. Ciaran's levitation charms made the fall swift but painless.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and the stone beneath Voldemort turned into boiling lava. The Lord soared calmly into the air, as if the gravity of the earth had no power over him.

I remembered the rest of it in fragments, the floor cracking from the power of the spells, the raging torrents of fire and water sent by two old enemies locked in mortal combat. My companions, thoroughly exhausted from the battle in the dungeons, were attacking Voldemort as best they could, but it was Dumbledore, the last man to arrive, who would be the last man standing.

As Voldemort, pressed on four sides by our spells, was about to apparate, the clock in the Atrium struck, signalling the beginning of a new working day, and Minister Fudge appeared in the centre of the hall, accompanied by his bodyguards. One of his aurors covered the Minister with his body, crumbling to dust as Voldemort, who was in a hurry to get out of the Atrium, had no mercy for the occasional disturbance.

Dumbledore and Moody simultaneously struck with magic - the already empty paving stones where the black-clad Lord had just stood cracked, but it was too late.

The fight was over, but not for us.

- Albbubbus, who was that? - Fudge stared at the Headmaster. With a shaking jaw, sweat beading on his forehead, the politician looked like a coward facing his worst nightmare.

At that moment Mark Greengrass entered the hall from the interior, immediately rushing towards Fudge. The Minister, despite his pallor and trembling lips, ordered the aurors to let the burnt, bloody wizard through. I realised that the first stage of political bargaining was about to begin - the aristocrat, who was not known for his great fighting ability, made up for it with his considerable powers of persuasion, his extensive political connections and his cunning. And he could compete with Dumbledore now that the Headmaster's men had just arrived in the Atrium and the lower floors were full of the corpses of the Revelers, the mercenaries of the Aristocrat Alliance, and Alastor's few Aurors, preventing the cunning old man from taking all the credit for protecting the Department of Mysteries.

Taking advantage of the Headmaster being distracted by the Minister of Magic, we quietly apparated away.

- Out. - Alastor literally collapsed into a chair in exhaustion, immediately pouring himself a full glass of chilled wine from a jug. The House elf ran around the room, preparing dinner.

- Alastor, where's Sirius? - I couldn't rest until I knew the fate of my godfather.

- The Carmichael brothers pulled him out. Riman is dead. - Ciaran settled back in his chair, greedily sipping wine straight from the jug.

- Pity about old Riman..." Alastor, slightly tipsy, began to eat. - I hope he has time to conceive another child, or their line will be broken.

- Is Sirius in?

- I think so," Alastor pulled away from the chicken leg he was nibbling on in a less than aristocratic manner. - The brothers had to drag him here, and there's Alika, who has healing magic, and Andromeda. Okay, I'm heading back to the ministry.

Regretfully tossing the rapidly nibbling chicken leg onto his plate, the auror apparated away.

I sprinted out of the living room, heading upstairs to my godfather's rooms.

- Are you all right? - I rushed to the bed where Sirius lay wrapped in bandages like a mummy.

- I'll live," he wheezed with great difficulty-it was obvious that some of his teeth were missing, too. - My little sister turned out to be surprisingly agile.

- Ex-sis..." I shuddered at the memory of a woman screaming in agony, writhing under the Cruciatus.

- You?" Black glanced at me incredulously, trying to get up, but he fell back against the pillows with a groan.

- She'd lost most of her strength from your curses. - I pulled a chair over to me and sat down next to Sirius's bed, taking my godfather's hand in mine. My back poured with a dull ache. - I'd killed her right in front of Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, and tortured her with Cruciatus before that.

I didn't immediately realise that the coughing sounds Sirius was making were laughter. The godfather coughed, blood appearing on his lips.

- Dumbledore had received the hardest blow today as the failed mentor of the chosen one.

Alika Greengrass flew into the room, immediately rushing over to Bleek. Swiping her wand over his chest, she stared angrily at my godfather.

- Lord Black, I told you not to move or speak!!!! Your lungs are full of blood again!!!

It seemed to me that the girl wanted to hit the wizard, but she still did not touch the wounded man.

- Miss Greengrass, you are absolutely charming, especially when you are angry, - despite the tearing pain, Black found the strength to joke.

- Lord Black, if you don't stop, I will tie you to the bed and gag you! - Thin fingers rested on Sirius' lips.

Looking at the silenced godfather I saw an ocean of irony in his eyes, given the chance he would have probably made a joke about being tied to the bed, but the girl gagged him. I quietly walked out, deciding not to disturb their conversation, more than anything I wanted to lie in the bathtub and spend a few hours there, preferably days.

On the way to my room Fleur came running at me, crying, pale, not at all like the cheerful girl she usually was.

- You're all right! - Hot lips covered my face with kisses, hands clutching my shoulders desperately, as if the girl wanted to make sure I was okay.

 Fleur's hand suddenly caused a flood of pain in my back, I hissed, not realising what had happened.

 - Are you hurt!!! - My favourite turned my back with unfeminine strength, examining my right side. - Harry!

 She dragged me into the mansion's guest room, allocated by the godfather for me, or for Fleur if we visited the Bleak house. Forcing me to stand in front of the mirror, the girl used a spell to cut off the remnants of my burnt, holey jacket and shirt.

 There was indeed a black burn streak on my side, which was now a dull ache. Apparently, not all the spells had passed me by, but in the heat of battle, consumed with fear for my godfather, I hadn't felt the hits, and now, in the calm of the situation, my back ached.

 - Shit. - Fleur began rummaging through the contents of the containers on my belt. - Where's your burn medication?

 - A blue vial with a red cap.

 Soft palms gently applied the ointment to the burned area of my body. The unknown mage's spell had slipped through, or it would have made a big charred hole in me. With a quiet hiss, the ointment soaked into the blackened flesh, covering it with a matt, shiny crust.

 - Did it hurt? - His hands moved to my shoulders, kneading the tense muscles.

 - Tolerable..." The ointment had anaesthetic ingredients, among others, so the dull ache was bearable.

 - Alastor said you're free until tomorrow, at ten o'clock there'll be a general meeting to discuss what happened in the Department of Mysteries. Mark Greengrass has stayed with the Minister, so there will be no declaration of you as war criminals. Now get in the bath! - The girl nudged me towards the door. - You smell of smoke and blood.

 - What if I asked you to join me? - I grinned, looking at the slightly pinked tips of Fleur's ears.

 - I think I'd find a more interesting way to reward my loyal knight for coming back from battle alive and relatively unharmed," Fleur wrinkled her nose amusedly. 

 After a good half hour in the bathtub, where Fleur had thoughtfully poured a few vials of regenerating potions, I looked like a human being. The burn on my side had healed, and the film of potion covering it was even stronger.

 The room was in semi-darkness, lit by the faint glow of the magic lamp on the ceiling. But even that was enough to make me realise that my bed was clearly occupied.

 I crawled under the covers and pulled the warm and dear girl against me, feeling the soft suppleness of her breasts through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

 - I can't wait until you're sixteen..." Fleur rested her head comfortably on my shoulder, her fluffy hair spreading across the pillows.

 - So will I. - I pulled her tighter against me. - Sometimes I wonder how much simpler things would be if we were simple wizards, not descendants of old families with their rules.

 - But those rules are necessary. - We both knew that we were just trying to convince ourselves, even though what we wanted most of all was to forget all the inhibitions.

 - True," I paused. - But there's one thing I can do right now. - My hand cupped the mound of her breast, gently stroking the soft skin.

 - What was it? - I felt Fleur's heart beat faster.

 - This is the one. - My lips began a journey from the girl's neck down and down.

* * *

- Gentlemen, good morning, everyone. - Mark Greengrass, who had entered the Black's living room through the fireplace, was glum and seemed to be sleeping on the move, even though it had been twenty-four hours since the battle at the Ministry of Magic. The aristocrat who had taken over Sirius' duties had proved indispensable while the master of the mansion lay in bed in a rather serious condition, gradually recovering thanks to Alika Greengrass' care.

- Good morning, Lord Greengrass. - Alastor, making himself comfortable in his chair, saluted the aristocrat with a glass of wine. - Sirius will be down soon... or rather, he will be down soon.

The mages gathered in the hall, seated around the table, waited for the appearance of the master of the mansion and the official leader of the opposition.

Mark literally fell into the chair that the housekeepers gave him. I noticed that the politician had turned pale and gaunt over the past twenty-four hours, as if he had never had a good night's sleep.

With a quiet rustle, a chair flew into the hall, where a pale Sirius sat clutching the armrests, but to my relief, he was much less bandaged than he'd been yesterday. On either side of his chair, keeping his own magic flying, were Alika Greengrass and the future Remus Black, whose marriage to Nymphadora was almost a done deal.

- It's good to see you, gentlemen and ladies," the godfather's smile, despite his injury, was still as mocking and ironic as ever. - What have I missed in the past twenty-four hours? Lord Greengrass?

- Well, for starters, to make a long story short, we won, and the Ministry and Dumbledore lost a lot of reputation in the last twenty-four hours or so. To put it succinctly. - Mark Greengrass took a greedy sip of juice from the cup he was handed.

- How about in more detail? - Alastor said mockingly.

- In order, then. - Greengrass set the goblet aside. - Yesterday, after you and I ran through the underground floors of the Ministry, I realised that the closest I came to death was not when we fought the Drunkards, but when I spoke to the Minister in Dumbledore's presence.

- Did the old rogue realise he was losing? - Alastor chuckled

- 'Alastor, it's funny for you to say,' Greengrass grumbled. - But there was a moment when I thought that Dumbledore wouldn't be stopped even by the presence of the Aurors and the Minister, and the Headmaster would simply kill me or wipe my memory. It was when Fudge and I were being interviewed by the reporters who arrived shortly afterwards... By the way, did everyone read what the Prophet printed?

After waiting for the affirmative murmurs of nearly two dozen people, some of whom were still wearing blindfolds, Greengrass continued.

- The Minister was interested in several questions from the beginning... Who attacked the Ministry and why. Where Harry Potter came from, yes, yes, Mr Potter, your disguise did not fool the politician, and Fudge had the good fortune to see you, albeit in a slightly different guise, at the Tribunal meeting. And most importantly, what can we do against a resurgent Voldemort?

- Yes, gentlemen," Greengrass raised his glass. - I would like to drink now to those whose lives we have used to convince the ruling party of Riddle's resurgence, which Fudge and Malfoy's lackeys have denied for so long. Alex Riemann. Francis Dugger, an auror from Fudge's guard who shielded the Minister from Voldemort's spell. Five of Alastor's aurors. Fourteen mercenaries from the continent. Honour and remembrance.

We drained our glasses in silence, without clinking glasses.

- What did the Minister say, Mark? - Sirius brought the audience back to the subject of the last battle.

- When Fudge heard that the Ministry had been attacked by Voldemort's black mages, he was furious, but I persuaded him to send a few Aurors to the underground floors, plus the remaining mercenaries and the people present now. So the Minister, outnumbered - his guards were vastly outnumbered by our fighters - had to take my advice.

- And Dumbledore didn't try to stop you, didn't take credit for protecting the Ministry to the Order of the Phoenix? - Delacourt Senior stretched out incredulously.

Greengrass laughed.

- Believe it or not, Voldemort did us a good favour by hitting the Order in the Atrium with the Shadow of Dreams. As Fudge and I chatted, Dumbledore had to be distracted by waking up his men who were lying all over the hall. And then the mercenaries and men of our group began to emerge from the dungeons, ragged, burnt, but alive and clearly battle-scarred. It became clear at once who had come first and defended the Department of Secrets with his own blood, and who had come to the caper.

In spite of the mood of gloom over the loss of several of their comrades, many of them grinned.

- So Fudge realised, as soon as his aurors returned with several bodies bearing the Black Mark, that there were some... inaccuracies in his view of life. Upon seeing the corpse of Bellatrix Lestrange still lying in the middle of the Atrium, however, Fudge asked the legitimate question of who had killed the criminal who had escaped from .Azkaban.

- And what did you answer, Lord Greengrass? - I looked calmly at the aristocrat. Yesterday's murder, committed by me in a state of almost insane hatred, not yet fully released during my meeting with Dumbledore, had barely touched my conscience. Bellatrix was insane, and deserved to die for her crimes.

- I answered honestly that Bellatrix had been killed by Harry Potter, who had chased after her after a battle in the Department of Mysteries, where she had luckily managed to defeat Lord Bleak. - Greengrass gave a short bow to a frowning Sirius. - 'By the way, Sirius, a lot of reporters really wanted to see you specifically. But I replied that you were badly injured during the battle in the Department of Mysteries, and are now unavailable for comment.

- That's a good thing, Mark. - Sirius smiled. Then, turning round to the Carmichaels sitting at the table, he added:

- Frederick, Anatole, thank you for carrying me out of the Division.

The answering smiles and nods showed that the mages accepted the thanks.

- When asked by reporters and the Minister what Harry Potter was doing in the Department of Mysteries, I replied that the young man had acted in accordance with the ideals of honour of an heir to an ancient family. When he heard of the Deathstalkers' attack on the Department of Mysteries, the young man, along with Sirius Black and Alastor Moody's men, went there to thwart the Dark Lord's servants. I said that in the opinion of Mr Potter, the future Lord Potter, expressed to me privately, it is the duty of every honest wizard, whether pureblood or muggle-born, to protect the peace and justice of the land from any who wish for power over life and death. The duty of every wizard," I had taken special care to emphasise this in my interview with the reporters.

I bowed briefly to the aristocrat, and Fleur discreetly clenched my hand under the table.

- So you're suggesting that we make Harry Potter the banner of our struggle? - Jean-Claude was the first to realise the implication of Greengrass's interview.

- That's right, gentlemen. - The aristocrat nodded. - Lord Black, with all due respect to you personally, Mr Potter already has a certain... reputation. And most wizards would be inclined to believe a man whose story of whose exploits many children have grown up on. Thanks to the Headmaster's mistake, nearly fourteen years of pushing the story in the press every year for nearly fourteen years, Voldemort's killer has not been forgotten by the public. And not even the charismatic head of the oldest and noblest House Bleak could match that influence.

- Your suggestions are logical..." James grimaced. - But this way we're putting a target in the form of his head....

- What's going to change? - I rose from my seat. - Voldemort has tried to take my life more than once to make up for his past failure. So nothing will change for me - I've been targeted by this wizard since I was born.

- Harry's probably right, James. - Sirius glared at the French analyst. - We're going to win quite a lot at the cost of something that's already been paid for a long time, unfortunately.

- What happened next was also a rather tense part of our conversation. And I thanked Merlin that the surviving mercenaries were still outside the doors of the Minister's office, the Mungo medics had been called to them, but I had refused to disband them to their homes, which the Minister and Dumbledore had demanded.

- The prophecy? - Sirius frowned.

- That's right. Dumbledore had demanded that the prophecy be given to him immediately, arguing that the prophecy must not be heard by anyone, that there was a chance that the Lord might learn of it through someone captured later.

- And what did you reply, Lord Greengrass? - I looked at the man with interest.

- I replied that if Dumbledore was so concerned about the safety of the prophecy, then why had the Dementor even written it down and deposited it in the Department of Mysteries, whose defences, as it turned out, could easily be overcome by two trained teams of Voldemort's and Sirius Black's men. And that's when the Headmaster got all worked up, as if we'd put him in the frying pan where he belonged. He didn't tell us anything, and neither Fudge nor I understood why he'd made the tape in the first place.

Sirius and Alastor laughed briefly and angrily.

- Then Fudge declared that he wished to be among those who would listen to the prophecy with Harry Potter. And I had to agree to this demand of the Minister - for now, some power remains in his hands, though we plan to launch a campaign to oust him in the near future, if I understand you. For all my understanding that Fudge was originally chosen as a persona that suited all interested political parties, he has long deserved the Avada for his crimes as Minister. Education reform, pressure on the magical races, decimation of the Aurorate, covering up irregularities in judicial practice, bribery, ignoring the Lord's return, amnesty for the Drunkards after the First War... though in the last case Dumbledore and his song about "a second chance to reform sinners" actively helped.

- Dumbledore deserves an Avada too. - I typed. - I'm not discounting his merits as a scientist and philanthropist, but he sat on information about Lord Horcruxes for so many years without doing anything. He had the Lord's Horcrux in diary form and the Headmaster didn't seek help from the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps if the Headmaster hadn't been maniacally interested in keeping his secrets, we wouldn't have such a problem now as Voldemort revived without interference.

Fleur looked at my hard face with some concern. Such a conclusion she hadn't expected from me.

- I have to agree here as well. - Sirius looked at me respectfully, and the same expression was on Alastor, Ciaran, and Jean-Claude's faces. The politicians understood me and my position. - And to add to that, the actions against the heir to the noble Potter family, for which the Headmaster had already received trouble in the Tribunal, and his indirect role in the Potters' deaths. Dumbledore must die before the end of this war.

- But in the meantime, we and England need him, gentlemen," the always rather bloodthirsty Moody intervened, to the surprise of the crowd.

- What do you mean, Alastor? - James, who recognised the old Auror well enough, was surprised.

- What I mean is that, although you and I are confident of victory, not without reason, it must be said, Dumbledore can serve as England's insurance policy in case we do lose. England's most powerful wizard can compete with Voldemort. And we can kill him later, when the final victory is not far off.

- The main thing is that after the victory we won't have some crushing intrigue of Dumbledore's waiting for us... - Black stretched out. - We pulled most of his teeth, depriving him of his position as Chairman of the Wizengamot, his membership in the International Confederation of Wizards, his guardianship of Harry, his reputation. But he still had his power... and he still had a Hogwarts full of children. So it would be necessary to kill him quickly and surely, so that he would not harm the children, such a risk must be taken wisely... I have some thoughts on the subject... But about that later, when the Dark Lord is defeated.

- Or if the Headmaster will actively interfere with our work. - Ciaran disagrees.

- I agree. - Sirius sealed it. - Everyone agrees that it's time for Dumbledore to prepare for a visit to the frying pan of hell?

Confirming nods were his answer. Those gathered in the hall recognised that blood had to be shed in England for peace and tranquillity to be achieved.

"The latest on the battle in the Department of Mysteries. Mark Greengrass interview!

Our correspondent, among many of his colleagues, attended what has become, I won't be afraid to say, a historic press conference with Minister Cornelius Fudge and Old Families Alliance spokesman Mark Greengrass.

During the conference, held right in the atrium of the Ministry, dead bodies and wounded people from the battle in the Department of Mysteries were carried past us. Many of them wore black robes, and on their arms, no longer covered by the crudely torn sleeves, the unmistakable mark of the Black Mark of the Unnamed was darkening ominously.

- We must be united in the face of a new threat," Mark Greengrass and Cornelius Fudge told us in two voices.

"- What new threat do the honourable wizards have in mind?" my colleagues questioned them.

Lord Greengrass, who came out to the reporters without a change of clothes after the battle, behind whose back stood burnt, blackened with smoke and curses people - some of whom turned out to be representatives of prominent ancient families, some of whom remained unknown to the editorial staff, answered the question this way:

- You have just seen whose bodies were carried out of the dungeons of the Ministry, gentlemen reporters. - He straightened up, calmly surveying the agitated crowd. Alastor Moody, standing behind him, covered in blood, whether his own or someone else's, grinned menacingly. - You saw the Mark of Voldemort on the hands of the dead men. I think the answer is obvious.

- Lord Greengrass," Rita Skeeter asked her question. - How would you comment on the fact that your words contradict previous statements by the Ministry of Magic and the Minister in particular?

- Gentlemen, I have to admit," Cornelius Fudge was really hard to look at, "that I saw the One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named today.

The hall gasped.

- Yes, gentlemen, I saw him very close, he threw some kind of curse at me, and Auror Duger of my personal guard covered me with his body.

- The Old Families Alliance will pay compensation to the bereaved family in addition to the ministerial compensation, though no amount of money will replace a decent man. - Mark Greengrass gently rubbed the minister aside, coming to the fore. - Honour and memory to Mr Dugger, honour and memory to those fallen wizards who were the first to arrive on the scene of battle and wrest victory from the hands of the Death Revelers.

The aristocrat lowered his head and our correspondent saw the heads bowed of the wizards standing behind him who had recently emerged from the brutal battle.

- Mr Greengrass, where did you get the information about the attack?

- I don't think you realise that to ask such a question and expect an answer is to jeopardise the lives of those people who managed to get that information, honoured lady. - Mark Greengrass flashed his eyes.

Our correspondent, noticing some discrepancy in the appearance of those standing on the dais, asked a question:

- Mr Minister, why is it that of the leaders of the political parties here, only one Lord Greengrass looks as if he has been in battle?

An approving grin flashed and disappeared on Lord Greengrass's face, as if the question asked by the correspondent was a very good one indeed.

- 'You ask interesting questions, honourable,' the aristocrat quickly stepped to the side, blocking Dumbledore, who stood in a snow-white robe, from stepping forward. - 'Mr Minister arrived on the scene by early afternoon, along with minimal guards, and did not have time to engage in battle.

A wry smirk arose from many of the soldiers standing behind him, who made no secret of their attitude towards the possibility of the Minister being able to participate in the battle.

- And Mr Dumbledore... He appeared somewhat earlier, when the main battle in the Department of Mysteries was over. However," Greengrass raised his hand, demanding silence, "the Headmaster was a great help in the fight against Voldemort, who came here in person... Without his wand, it would have been difficult to push back the resurgent Dark Lord.

- What are the names of those who fought the Lord? - A question rang out from the crowd of reporters and officials arriving for work.

- It was three mages: Alastor Moody, a mercenary whose name we will not divulge, and Harry Potter.

Dumbledore's face twisted into a grimace for a moment.

- 'Headmaster Dumbledore, I think you can tell me better than I can about the future Lord Potter's work in this battle,' Greengrass bowed mockingly. - 'It seems to me that a man who defended in battle what the Dark Lord personally came for deserves a certain amount of recognition.

The Headmaster stepped forward with a frown, looking around the gathering with a look of sadness and displeasure at the same time.

- I've seen Harry Potter fight. - He said slowly. - He was using the blackest of black spells in a fight that the Dark Lord would not hesitate to use.

To the growing murmurs of the hall, he continued:

- Before my eyes, he tortured an unarmed woman in cold blood with Cruciatus and then killed her with Avada.

- You forgot to say, Mr Dumbledore, great light wizard," Alastor Moody growled, placing a hand sharply on the Headmaster's shoulder, "that woman was Bellatrix Lestrange! Bellatrix, who had, for example, tortured the Connor family a year before the end of the war! Father, mother and two children. Now that, Headmaster, is what you call unarmed men.

- And in your opinion," he looked round the room with a mad look of the artificial eye, "what kind of sentence does a ruthless murderer, a follower of Voldemort, who tortured many defenceless people and killed even more of them deserve? Maybe she should have been given a "second chance"? Like those people who were supposedly "under the Imperius" in the First War.

- Here, look at this. - A flick of the old auror's wand lifted one of the bodies lying in the corner into the air. - Over there in the corner is the body of an old acquaintance of mine. I once caught him myself and put him in Azkaban. And I assure you, this wizard didn't fight like he was drugged by the Curse of Subjugation. Rehabilitated after the First War and given a second chance, Marcius Gildenbeck, a former employee of the Ministry.

A new swing of the wand, and with a crack, the jacket on the arms and chest of the dead body rips. - A tattoo, an old one. So was he under Imperius then, if his body is now being carried among those who attacked the Department of Mysteries on Voldemort's orders? Or was he forced to do so again? And how many among us are there like him, "repentant", given a "second chance", as the great light wizard was so fond of saying at the Wizengamot trials?

- My friend and comrade-in-arms Alastor said exactly right. - Greengrass entered the conversation while the Minister, deathly pale, looked at the bloody body swaying in the air in front of him. - Remember the First War, when many peaceful wizards were killed in their homes. And what did their killers get? Many of them got a hefty fine for their crimes due to "lack of evidence". I have nothing more to say to you, gentlemen reporters. Lord Black's men and I need rest after the battle.

The reporters, realising that the press conference was over, followed the scowling aurors in purple robes, from Alastor Moody's task force, into the dungeons of the Ministry, from where a faint smoke was still rising."

- Neville, is this true? - The young man who sat last at the Gryffindor table was swarmed by most of the students from his department.

- Really what? - Longbottom calmly looked round the gathered crowd.

- The Lord's revival that's in the paper!

- Really. - The young man poured himself some tea. - Grandmother said that the Lord personally appeared at the Ministry of Magic, but he was beaten out of there.

- How?!

- And our friend, Harry Potter, wrote to me," the young man added nonchalantly, to throw them off the subject. - And he's going back to sixth year.

- Won't he be arrested for using forbidden curses? - shouted someone from the crowd.

- Arrested for killing a criminal? - Neville grinned wickedly. - I don't think so.

- Mr Longbottom, I will not tolerate such language at school! - The Headmaster's voice was menacing. His eyes, like Snape's, were literally glittering with rage. - Minus twenty points from Gryffindor and....

- Sonorus. What kind of remarks, Mr Headmaster? - The young man stood up to his full height, meeting the gazes of two of the people he hated the most after the dead Bellatrix. He was shaking slightly inside, but he carefully kept a mask of contempt and arrogance on his face.

- That it is permissible to kill a criminal.

- Are you talking about Bellatrix Lestrange, Headmaster? - Neville flushed sharply with anger, forgetting even his fear of Snape. - The woman who drove my mother and father mad with Cruciatus? She killed dozens of wizards, and you talk to the son of the people she tortured about mercy?

- How do you talk to the Headmaster, apprentice?! - Snape bellowed. - I have six o'clock detention today.

- He's telling the truth, Severus," Augusta Longbottom glared mockingly at the potions master who had turned pale with rage. - And the Minister of Magic agreed at the press conference that the murder was justified. So you'd better keep brewing your potions and stay out of politics, as Lord Black would say. Plus twenty points for Gryffindor.

- You're a biased person, Lady Longbottom! - Snape snarled, furious at the mention of his former enemy.

- Really?" Augusta Longbottom seemed ready to tear the Potions Master apart with her bare hands. - Would you say the same words to all the children without families? Would you say it to the family of Cedric Diggory? To the family of the Auror who covered the Minister with his own body? - The grey-haired woman, abruptly calmed down and looked round the room with a sad gaze. - I am not old, Mr Severus Tobias Snape, nor am I as strong a wizard as I was when you were not yet here. But if I were younger, young man, and you would have received a dueling challenge from me.

- 'Mistress Longbottom,' Filius Flitwick touched the woman's arm gently. - I think that in the absence of your family friend, Lord Bleak, I can take on the role of your protector.

The students watched the unexpected scandal with bated breath.

- Severus Snape," Flitwick said through gritted teeth, his words contemptuous. - Apologise at once, or you will be challenged by a seven-time European dueling champion.

- Are they really going to fight now? - Hermione whispered, clenching her fists.

- I don't believe that greasy-haired bastard is capable of apologising! - Ron exclaimed.

- I won't allow it, gentlemen! - The Headmaster stood up, shrouding himself in magic. - Severus, please apologise to Lady Augusta. Filius, you are taking events far too personally.

- I apologise, Albus," the half-goblin hissed. - I do what my honour tells me to do, not my youthful resentments and complexes.

- Mistress Longbottom," Snape hissed, his face showing that he had no thought of his possible wrongdoing. - I apologise for my hasty and ill-considered words.

- I accept your apology," the woman said coldly. - Plus twenty points to Gryffindor, Mr Longbottom. Thank you, Filius.

The dueling master, sheathing the short dagger he had just used to slice the steak with fury, bowed briefly. In his mind, the list of possible dueling candidates had just added another person about whom Flitwick had many unproven suspicions.

* * *

(from the author. The author is aware that the Vanishing Closet is in canon. But the word is monstrously snaggy in my opinion and doesn't convey the meaning)

 - So you're saying, Mr.... Kirk," Draco's eyes, clutching his wand in his pocket, stayed fixed on the unremarkable man in the grey robe, "that this book is the most comprehensive collection of spells for repairing the Vanishing Wardrobe, and it even contains spells that are not included in other editions?

 - Yes, Mr Malfoy," the merchant said, a little nervously, cursing his greed, which had caused him to take the very generous price offered by the unknown buyer in exchange for delivery to Hogsmeade. When he found himself in one of the back rooms of the Boar's Head, which Aberforth Dumbledore rented out for a reasonable price to those who wished to remain undetected, he saw a willingness to kill him or wipe his memory if any of the three buyers even suspected the slightest possibility of leaking information about the deal in the future.

 - This book," he began, trying to keep his voice from shaking, "contains the spells used to create and repair Carrying Wardrobes and is the basis for most of the similar books written later. Mr Malfoy, I assure you-

 - Enough," Malfoy interrupted the merchant half-heartedly, annoyed that he had managed to recognise him. - Your money. Though you don't deserve it after not showing up in Hogsmeade the day the Dark Lord's servants attacked the village.

 A weighty pouch full of gold coins fell into the hands of the thankful merchant. The man turned and headed for the door, glad to have got off easy, but halfway out he heard the sound of a wand being removed from its bindings and froze in place.

 - Obliviate," Draco said softly, enunciating every sound of the spell with utmost precision and watching the movement of the wand carefully.

 The man's eyes immediately went blank, and Malfoy, staring intently at the frozen merchant, slowly and carefully erased from his memory everything pertaining to the order and the identity of the book buyer. Finally, with a sigh of relief wiping his sweaty forehead, he put his wand away and, having stunned the man in cold blood, walked out the door, accompanied by the squires who hadn't uttered a word.

 Without anyone noticing, they made their way through one of the secret passages that abundantly permeated the underground rock monolith beneath Hogwarts to their faculty dungeons, emerging in an inconspicuous corridor not far from where they had recently encountered Longbottom and his clingers, as Malfoy had called them.

 The evening corridors of Hogwarts had already emptied out, most of the students having dispersed to their drawing rooms so as not to encounter Filch or Snape patrolling the castle after lights out looking for troublemakers. So Malfoy and his silent companions quickly reached an inconspicuous door in a part of the castle that had been abandoned years ago, a part where even House elf's hardly ever appeared. Once a series of classrooms, the corridor was now empty, dark and generously decorated with a thick layer of cobwebs, as if it had never been cleaned by the ubiquitous elves.

 Once he reached his destination and entered the large classroom, filled with antique-looking furniture half-rotten from time, Malfoy took a long, careful moment to cast spell after spell on the door to protect himself from the unexpected visit. Krebb and Goyle, obeying his abrupt gesture, quickly cleared the central part of the room of desks, spread open defence textbooks on the most surviving one, pretending as if they were practising Defence Against the Dark Arts in an empty classroom. The marks on the dusty floor showed that they had used such a trick more than once. Draco himself took a book out of his bag and headed for the far corner of the room, where there were far fewer traces of dust and cobwebs to suggest to the careful observer what was really going on in the room.

 Krebb and Goyle, surprisingly enough, did indeed stand up and began leisurely repeating spells, many of the techniques they used that would have surprised the teachers - dark magic hadn't been taught at Hogwarts in over a century and a half, not since the Ministry of Magic's drastic change of course had outlawed much of the heritage of pureblood families.

 Malfoy carefully opened the fragile pages that were literally crumbling before his eyes, waved his wand, hung a magic light above him and plunged into reading, sitting down on the desk that had been reinforced with magic on his first visit to the room. Finally, when he got to the right place, he began to draw a complex design on the door of an ancient cupboard, one of the walls of which was cut almost in half by a wide crack. Half an hour later, after Malfoy had spent drawing out a diagram that had to be erased once and started all over again, the Slytherin was finally finished.

 - Vincent, Gregory," he commanded. - As soon as I start, look in my direction. If anything happens to me, take it to Madam Pomfrey and tell her I was trying out a new attack spell.

 Turning to the cupboard and saying the required long spell several times with just his lips, the blond pointed his wand at the crack and the words of the old spell rang out in the empty classroom.

- 'Gammel garderobe, bestillerdu å kommeseg, å blihel,' the words, bizarre to the ear, spoken in what seemed to be a completely alien voice, made the cupboard shimmer with a dim light blue glow.

Draco stepped further away, contemplating what was happening. Everything inside him was tense - there must not be another failed attempt, the Lord had been angry the first time Draco had waited in Hogsmeade in vain for the merchant who had promised to deliver the most detailed book on Transfer Cases, and the operation to infiltrate Hogwarts had been thwarted again for a long time.

Finally, the glow that had enveloped the cupboard was gone, as was the crack in the polished wall, and the cupboard itself now looked as if it had been in the hands of a good restorer. Malfoy pointed his wand at the cupboard and cast a new spell - he had learnt dozens of them over the past two months, and most of them were aimed at repairing the Transfer Cupboard. The white glow that surrounded the cabinet showed that it was in working order.

- 'Vincent, Gregory,' Draco commanded. - 'Clean this place up. I'll be right back.

He slammed the door shut behind him and felt a strange tugging sensation inside, but it quickly disappeared. When he opened the door, he found himself in a completely different place - time-darkened wooden walls, rusty torch rings, two of which had faintly glowing magical lights. One of the half-abandoned dungeons of the Malfoy Menorah, where the paired Transfer Cupboard, bought at Gorbin and Burkes' shop, had been placed, which by some miracle had retained its connection to its twin at Hogwarts. How the cupboard, which was paired with the one at the magic school, ended up in the shop of a merchant of legally dubious artefacts and reagents, even the omniscient Lord didn't know, but the discovery made by Malfoy Senior, who had once visited the shop, turned out to be quite convenient.

Quickly climbing the narrow spiral staircase that creaked beneath his feet, passing through several confusing corridors, Draco reached the inhabited part of the castle.

- 'Father,' Lucius looked up from the desk in his study, 'I have completed the Lord's task.

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