Kapitel 428: Brockdale Bridge is Falling Down

It is said that time seems to pass more quickly when one is having fun— but Oleandra would argue that time passes much more quickly when one is running out of it— especially if one is stuck on a difficult exam question. Indeed, there's nothing quite like spending a minute to answer a simple question, only to look up at a clock to find out that a single minute had somehow stretched out into five!

At any rate… another day, another written exam, and another practical.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday— Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts… The hourglass of time had all but shattered into pieces, and like sand slipping through her fingers, it was already Friday before Oleandra knew it.

There wasn't much to say about the exams she'd sat so far— they were all her best subjects, apart from Charms. She was naturally talented at Transfiguration, so that practical exam hadn't been a problem for her. She had practically grown up in a greenhouse, so she had always had a good grasp on Herbology. As for Defence Against the Dark Arts, she had had more than her fair share of training with Harry and the RC (temp) club, so she was basically guaranteed an Exceeds Expectations in that subject, at the very least.

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"Good morning, Vanessa," Oleandra greeted the security Witch. "I'm here for my Ancient Runes exam?"

Come Friday, it had become somewhat of a ritual for Oleandra to present herself at the security booth in the Ministry of Magic's Atrium to receive her visitor's badge.

"'Course you are," said Vanessa sombrely. "But I'm afraid that all remedial exams have been cancelled until further notice."

Oleandra had been in a rather jolly mood this morning— she had already completed four out of her ten O.W.L.s, and she had been feeling better than she had all week. Now that her body didn't have to focus on healing, a much greater proportion of her abnormally powerful magic had been restored, making it much easier for her to cast her spells.

"Did something happen?" said Oleandra, as she glanced over her shoulder at the Ministry workers in the Atrium, hurrying to and from, like headless chickens. "Things aren't usually this hectic at the Ministry, unless I'm mistaken?"

The moment she had stepped into the Atrium this morning, Oleandra had immediately noticed that the mood seemed… off. She hadn't seen a single person so far who wasn't wearing a grim expression on their face; to Oleandra, it seemed as though the Ministry's employees were hiding their fear by keeping themselves occupied.

Even so, they couldn't conceal their true feelings from Oleandra; she could literally feel their fear and unrest through the invisible Helm of Terror sigil marked on her forehead.

"There's been an attack," said Vanessa darkly. "Death Eaters had a go at Brockdale Bridge half an hour ago; which I'm told is morning rush hour for the Muggles. Hundreds dead, a hundred more to be Obliviated, and from my desk, I even heard whispers of Giants being present at the scene…"

Voldemort had purposefully chosen to launch a wave of terrorist attacks during the transitory period between governments. He had first blackmailed Fudge into stepping down ahead of time, threatening to massacre Muggles… and then he had done what he had threatened to do anyway; to destabilize and undermine confidence in the new Minister's administration, before he had even had the chance to settle into his new office!

Needless to say, morale at the Ministry was at an all-time low, and their resources were stretched thinner than a square of single ply toilet paper.

"Then, what am I supposed to do?" said Oleandra, panic swelling in her chest. "I need to complete the rest of my O.W.L.s before school starts!"

In the grand scheme of things and in the Ministry's eyes, Oleandra's O.W.L.s were utterly unimportant compared to maintaining the Statute of Secrecy— the Ministry was facing a crisis, so they couldn't afford to spend valuable manpower and time to hold remedial exams for a handful of students.

However, neither could the Ministry afford to offend the Greengrass sisters— if they had defeated Voldemort once, then surely, they would be able to do so again. To many, they represented the British magical world's hope for the future— the Ministry knew that to defeat Voldemort, they would need more than just numbers; they would need the highest tier of magical genius.

"How should I know?" said Vanessa the security Witch irritably. "Look here, I'm very busy— why don't you go bother someone else with—"

Her voice trailed off; she was looking at something over Oleandra's shoulder.

But before Oleandra even had the chance to look at what was so interesting, a paper aeroplane whizzed over her head and executed a perfect landing on the security Witch's desk… and in the process, knocking a pot of ink's contents over her half-finished Sudoku puzzle.

The paper aeroplane then unfolded itself into a piece of parchment— a letter!

The Witch hastily picked up the piece of parchment before it absorbed the entirety of her ink pot's contents, which would have rendered the message unreadable. After giving the letter a cursory read, she looked up at Oleandra, who was still waiting expectantly for her to give her a satisfactory answer.

"The Minister is expecting you," Vanessa said lamely. "He's waiting for you in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures… And it also says that you don't need to wear a badge on the Ministry's premises any more…"

"Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" said Oleandra sarcastically. "Thank you so much, Vanessa— you've been such a great help."

Oleandra turned on her heel and strode away from the security booth; she walked past the Fountain of Magical Brethren, but as she went to press the 'up' button at the lifts, her finger froze.

Once again, Oleandra whirled around.

She retraced her steps back to the Fountain of Magical Brethren, and as she beheld the golden fountain, the niggling feeling in the back of her mind was proven correct— this wasn't the same fountain that had been there the previous day!

Gone were the golden effigies of the Wizard, the Witch, the Centaur, the Goblin and the House-Elf— they had been replaced with five golden figures:

The first belonged to a serpentine Dragon, whose long body was curled around the base of the fountain. Its head was craned back, and it periodically shot jets of water from its nostrils into the air.

The second belonged to a long-haired Witch; she was wearing form-fitting robes and a fierce expression on her face, and her fingers were curled into the shapes of runes— Thursaz, to be precise. For some reason, water gushed out from her fingertips into ten graceful arcs.

The third belonged to a beautiful Witch holding her wand aloft; water spouted from the tip of her wand in a cone.

The fourth belonged a short expressionless Witch, whose long hair floated ominously around her head—almost as if the strands of hair were snakes; rearing back, and ready to strike.

And lastly, the fifth belonged a young Witch with a heroic expression on her face; she was holding a sword vertically in front of her chest…