章 447: 0446 Crumbling World
"They were injured in the chaos!" Lucius Malfoy exclaimed, his voice rising to a near-shout. His pale, pointed face was contorted with rage, eyes flashing dangerously as he glared at Fudge.
A flicker of light passed through Bryan's eyes before they quickly settled back into their usual inscrutable calm.
Dumbledore could not possibly like Lucius Malfoy, who constantly schemed to bring him down and had even acted on it, causing severe consequences. However, upon hearing that Malfoy's wife and son were injured in tonight's attack, Dumbledore immediately showed concern.
"What happened, Lucius?" Dumbledore asked, his voice soft yet urgent. He spoke even before Fudge could answer, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "What harm has young Mr. Malfoy suffered?"
The Malfoy family, particularly Lucius, had been a significant financial backer of the Ministry of Magic under Fudge's leadership. Their generous 'donations' had paved the way for many of Fudge's initiatives. Hearing that Lucius Malfoy's wife and son were injured, Fudge couldn't dismiss it as a trivial matter. Since Dumbledore had already asked, Fudge remained silent, looking at Lucius Malfoy with equal concern.
"We were victims of a terrorist attack!" Lucius said in a rare impolite tone.
"While evacuating," he continued, his voice trembling slightly with anger, "Narcissa and I engaged in a duel with the dark wizards who launched the attack. We were protecting a young Swiss girl, separated from her parents in the chaos.
We managed to drive the attackers away, but Narcissa was hit with a powerful stunning spell while protecting the girl. She's still unconscious. And Draco... my son's arm was injured in the commotion!"
"Oh, how unfortunate—" Fudge said, his voice tinged with a mixture of shame and political calculation. He tugged at his collar, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air of the office.
"This incident occurred so suddenly, we— I mean, the Ministry's preparations were indeed inadequate. I should visit your wife and child, Lucius, but it'll have to wait."
Fudge's eyes darted nervously around the room, as if seeking an escape from this uncomfortable situation. "As you know, the Ministry is facing unprecedented challenges, and I can't leave my post at the moment. The wizarding community needs leadership in these times."
The idea that the Malfoy family would step up to protect a stranger's child and duel with dark wizards was something that even Dumbledore, with all his capacity for seeing the best in people, found difficult to swallow. It went against everything he knew about Lucius Malfoy and his self-serving nature.
A strange light flashed in Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes, hidden momentarily behind his half-moon spectacles. He realized that Lucius Malfoy's purpose in rushing to the Ministry to find Fudge at this critical juncture couldn't possibly be just to lodge a complaint about his family's injuries, no matter how serious they were.
Dumbledore's gaze shifted towards Bryan, seeking some hint on this unexpected turn of events. But Bryan's face was expressionless showing none of his inner thoughts. When met with Dumbledore's questioning look, Bryan's lips twitched slightly, revealing a brief, mocking smile that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
As Dumbledore's sharp gaze returned to Lucius Malfoy, his eyes grew deep and pensive.
Fudge, oblivious to the subtle exchange between Dumbledore and Bryan, continued to face the complaining Lucius Malfoy with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt etched across his round face, until—
"Of course, I understand the difficulties you and the Ministry are facing right now, Minister Fudge—" The usually smooth and confident Lucius Malfoy had never shown such a stern face to the Minister of Magic before. Tonight, however, he stood with straight back before Fudge, his pale gray eyes flickering with an inner fire that seemed almost foreign on his aristocratic features.
"But I must seek justice for Narcissa and Draco, mustn't I, Minister?" Lucius continued, his voice rising with each word. "I must find out what these evil dark wizards are really up to, why they launched this attack—"
Lucius paused, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing. His eyes, wild with a hint of fear and determination, darted quickly between Bryan and Dumbledore before settling back on Fudge. When he spoke again, his voice was harsh, almost grating.
"I want the truth, Minister," he demanded, leaning forward slightly. "So, I asked around with friends in the Ministry. Someone told me the Department has captured a live one—"
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly, as if a dementor had suddenly glided in.
"What are you trying to do, Lucius!" Fudge exclaimed, his voice rising an octave in alarm. The minister, who had been mild-mannered and apologetic just moments ago, suddenly became guarded. His eyes, usually warm and inviting when dealing with influential purebloods like Malfoy, were now filled with wariness, without any trace of their usual kindness.
Fudge had already made his decision to follow Bryan's advice, and Melanov, the dark witch captured by Bryan, was now the linchpin in Fudge's hastily constructed plan. He needed to use this equally heinous villainess to provide an explanation that would satisfy both the British magical community and the wider Wizarding World!
The greatest difficulty in managing this delicate situation was maintaining absolute secrecy. The fact that Lucius Malfoy dared to waltz into his office, brazenly inquiring about Melanov, sent alarm bells ringing in Fudge's mind. His political instincts, honed by years of navigating the treacherous waters of magical politics, were screaming at him that something was very, very wrong.
"Who told you the Ministry had captured a live one, Lucius?" Fudge demanded, his voice stern and unyielding. The change in his demeanor was so abrupt that even Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What are you trying to find out!"
Lucius Malfoy's carefully constructed facade of righteous indignation crumbled in the face of the angry Minister of Magic. The tough exterior he had been projecting since bursting into the office melted away like snow in summer. Confronted with Fudge's direct questioning, Lucius, still unclear about the full scope of the situation, found his expression turning bewildered, his tone immediately softening.
"A... a friend in the Ministry, Minister Fudge—" Lucius stammered, his pale lips pursing as he struggled to maintain his composure. Gone was the fire in his eyes, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. "I just... just hoped to know quickly why these dark wizards committed their crimes, who's commanding them. Narcissa and Draco, my wife and son, were both injured, Minister. I have the right to know these things, don't I? So, when I heard the Ministry was conducting an interrogation, I came immediately to see—"
"Just because of that?" Fudge's eyes narrowed suspiciously, boring into Lucius as if trying to peer into the very depths of his soul.
The tension in the room heightened up by another notch.
"Absolutely true, Minister Fudge!" Lucius Malfoy insisted, his voice taking on an earnest quality that seemed almost distant coming from his lips.
This explanation, on the surface, sounded reasonable enough. A concerned husband and father, seeking answers about an attack that had harmed his family - it was a story that would tug at the heartstrings of any decent wizard. But Lucius Malfoy's reputation for cunning and manipulation was well-known, even among the pureblood wizarding families who counted him as an ally.
Fudge, having regained his political wariness, chose not to take Malfoy's words at face value. Or rather, regardless of Lucius Malfoy's true reasons for coming to probe for information, Fudge had already decided that he would never allow him to see Melanov. The risks were simply too great.
"The Ministry is investigating, Lucius," Fudge said cautiously. "We'll issue a notice later, once we have all the facts. What you should do now is go back and take good care of your wife and son. They need you more than we do right now."
Lucius Malfoy's unexpected visit and his claimed reasons had given Fudge a keen sense of crisis. The night wasn't over, yet news of their captive had already begun to spread. Merlin only knew how much crucial information would leak in the coming hours if he didn't act quickly to contain the situation.
A cold realization washed over Fudge. Rufus was currently interrogating Melanov, and Fudge suddenly understood that he needed to put a stop to it immediately. If they mistreated the dark witch too severely, he wouldn't be able to have Melanov face the Wizengamot's trial wearing Cliodna's face, and subsequently be imprisoned in Azkaban under the watchful eyes of Daily Prophet reporters. The entire plan would crumble before it even began.
"If there's nothing else, you may leave, Lucius," Fudge said, his tone brooking no argument. "The Ministry will provide an explanation about the truth behind the attack as quickly as possible. Also," he added, a hint of harshness entering his voice, "you can help spread the word that the Ministry will surely capture the leaders of these dark wizards, with Bryan's help."
At these words, Lucius's heart seemed to stop beating for several agonizing seconds. The blood drained from his already pale face, leaving him looking like a ghost in expensive robes. Moreover, the coldness in Bryan's smile made Lucius Malfoy feel as if he were standing naked in the heart of a raging blizzard, as every inch of his skin became numb with a bone-deep chill.
Having dealt with Ministry politicians for years, Lucius Malfoy knew their nature all too well. Under normal circumstances, they were more than willing to bend some laws for a handful of shiny Galleons, their principles were as flexible as a well-oiled Quidditch player. But when their own positions were at stake, they would immediately turn their backs on even the closest of friends, discarding allies like used tissues.
And the conspiracy he had planned this time... it fell directly into the category of absolutely unforgivable.
At the horrifying thought that the Malfoy family might be ruined because of his actions, Lucius Malfoy's face turned ashen. His fists clenched involuntarily inside his sleeves, trembling with a mixture of fear and impotent rage.
Fudge's mind was entirely focused on Melanov, the captured dark witch who was being interrogated. In his preoccupation, he failed to notice Lucius Malfoy's unusual expression.
"Lucius?" Fudge called out impatiently, jolting Lucius from his spiral of dread.
"Oh, I'm here, Minister—" Lucius responded hurriedly, his breath catching in his throat. He looked towards Fudge, only to find the Minister of Magic's eyes conveying an obvious hint for him to get lost.
Fudge, Dumbledore, and Bryan left the Minister's office together, with Lucius Malfoy following behind in a daze. His usual graceful stride was gone, replaced by the uncertain steps of a man walking to the gallows.
Ding—
The elevator arrived with a cheerful chime that seemed wildly out of place given the weird atmosphere. A cold voice announced the floor, and Fudge and Dumbledore were the first to enter the elevator, but Bryan suddenly stopped.
"Minister and Headmaster Dumbledore, you go ahead," Bryan said, his voice smooth and pleasant. "I'd like a word with Mr. Malfoy about Draco's performance in my class."
Fudge blinked in surprise, his bushy eyebrows rising towards his receding hairline. "Oh, at a time like this?" he asked, bewilderment clear in his tone. After a moment's hesitation, he added reluctantly, "Well, alright, Bryan. You're truly a responsible professor. Make it quick—"
Bryan nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. As the elevator car disappeared from view, descending into the depths of the Ministry, Bryan slowly turned to face Lucius Malfoy. The corridor suddenly seemed much darker, the shadows deeper and more menacing.
Although his mind was in chaos from fear, Lucius wasn't foolish enough to believe that Bryan Watson actually wanted to discuss Draco's classroom performance.
"Mr. Watson," Lucius began, his voice barely above a whisper. Truthfully, he would rather be thrown directly into Azkaban by the Ministry than face Bryan Watson alone. The memory of their last encounter at the Leaky Cauldron rose in his mind - the fear this young and powerful wizard had instilled in him was something he had only experienced in the presence of the Dark Lord himself. And tonight, Bryan Watson had finally showed his true dominance to the entire Wizarding world!
Bang!
The sudden noise made Lucius flinch violently. Bryan's face before him was a mask of cold indifference, but the light in his pale purple eyes was so chilly it seemed capable of freezing one's very soul. Under the invisible influence of surging magical power, the corridor lights began to flicker erratically.
The magical pressure in the air built to a crescendo, and suddenly -
Pop! Pop! Pop!
One by one, the light bulbs burst in a torrent of shattering glass and dying light. The sound of breaking bulbs felt like a series of heavy hammer blows striking Lucius Malfoy's heart. The darkness that engulfed them was broken only by the eerie glow emanating from Bryan's eyes.
Feeling weak, his legs were no longer able to support him, Lucius collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
"This is the second time I've shown you mercy, Lucius Malfoy. There won't be a next time."
Without another word, Bryan turned and entered the elevator. The doors closed with a soft hiss, and he disappeared from the floor, leaving behind a pale and bloodless Lucius Malfoy, staring blankly at the pitch-black elevator shaft.
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章 448: 0447 Regrets
Bryan's footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors as he descended to the second basement level in the Ministry of Magic's elevator. The golden grilles slid open with a gentle clang, revealing the domain of Amelia Bones's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This floor housed the most powerful armed organization in the Ministry- the Auror Office.
But ,the entire Ministry was eerily empty, and this floor was no exception. As Bryan stepped out of the elevator, his keen eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor, Dumbledore's familiar voice rang out from the right, cutting through the oppressive silence.
"This way, Bryan,"
The architecture of the Ministry's second basement level seemed deliberately designed to emphasize the significance of magical law. Stark and cold, the corridors were a somber palette of blacks and grays, apart from the portraits of past heads of the department hanging on the corridor walls, there were no decorations.
Bryan turned a few corners in the maze like corridors and found Dumbledore standing at the entrance to a staircase leading further down. The flaming torches on either side of the entrance casted a golden glow on Dumbledore's silver-white beard.
"Cornelius was in quite a hurry to give some last-minute instructions to the head of the Auror Office," Dumbledore explained with a smile, "I was concerned you might lose your way in this maze, so I thought it prudent to wait for you here."
Bryan nodded slightly, "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Amelia's office is on the other side, and I've never ventured this deep into the Ministry before. It's quite the labyrinth down here."
The staircase before them plunged underground, bearing a striking resemblance to the one leading to the Wizengamot courtrooms. It was shrouded in darkness, the air growing noticeably colder with each step downward. The atmosphere was heavy as this was where Aurors likely conducted temporary detentions and intense interrogations of the dangerous magical criminals. As, both Dumbledore and Bryan were powerful wizards, they could easily find their footing on each step even in the darkness.
As they descended, Dumbledore's cheerful voice cut through the gloomy surroundings. "I couldn't help but notice, Bryan," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "that you might have missed an opportunity to demand a rather hefty fee from Cornelius earlier. Not that I'm suggesting you should have, of course."
Bryan chuckled softly, "Rest assured, I won't let Fudge off that easily," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Though, of course, I wasn't planning to ask for an exorbitant amount. I do have some restraint." He paused for a moment, then added with a smirk, "By the way, Mr. Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, I'm curious - does the ICW have any official stance on my brave and fearless performance tonight?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he responded, "Objectively speaking, Bryan, the International Confederation of Wizards is a rather... impoverished organization. Most of the funds required to keep it operational come from various Ministries of Magic. If you're hoping I'll present you with a large sum of galleons, I'm afraid that's quite out of the question." He stroked his beard thoughtfully before continuing, "However, if it's prestige you're after, well, that's an entirely different matter. I'd wager that by tomorrow morning, my office will be flooded with at least twenty owls delivering letters of recommendation, all clamoring to invite you to become a Vice-Chairman."
"Vice-Chairman?" Bryan scoffed playfully. "If it were for the position of Chairman, I might consider it."
Bryan's jest elicited another chuckle from Dumbledore.
After this playful conversation, they finally reached the bottom of the stairs. The area that greeted them was a stark contrast to the polished upper levels of the Ministry. Bryan's gaze lingered on these chambers, his imagination running wild. He could almost hear faint, ghostly wails emanating from behind each heavy door. The air seeping through the cracks seemed saturated with the metallic scent of blood.
The two stopped before a particularly ominous door. Unlike the others, this one had golden firelight spilling through its cracks. Dumbledore turned to face Bryan, his expression suddenly serious, the twinkle in his eyes replaced by a penetrating gaze.
"So, Bryan," Dumbledore began, his voice low and leisurely, "did you inquire about Malfoy's true purpose in orchestrating this attack?"
Bryan wasn't surprised by Dumbledore's abrupt question. Slowly, he shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "I didn't ask him anything directly," Bryan admitted. "I just gave him some warnings. As for his purpose..." He paused, considering his words carefully. "Well, I guess the unusual activity of the Dark Mark over the past few months has made him increasingly uneasy. Especially considering he practically handed Voldemort's Horcrux to us on a silver platter. My guess is he's terrified of facing Voldemort's wrath when he inevitably returns. This attack... it's likely a desperate attempt to prove he's still capable of evil."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, processing Bryan's words. He could follow the logic of Bryan's deductions regarding Lucius Malfoy's motives. However, a slight furrow appeared between his silver-white eyebrows, and a flicker of confusion passed through his piercing blue eyes. It wasn't Malfoy's reasons for this mischief that perplexed him, but rather Bryan's surprisingly lenient attitude towards the Death Eater.
Bryan was not one to tolerate any form of deception or manipulation. If he were truly enraged about this incident, the Malfoy family would undoubtedly have faced severe consequences. Yet, Bryan had merely issued a warning to Lucius - an action that seemed oddly out of character. Unless, Dumbledore pondered, Bryan wasn't genuinely concerned about this matter and had his own plans for Lucius Malfoy.
Respect had always been the cornerstone of their relationship, the prerequisite for their friendly coexistence. Whatever Bryan's thoughts about Lucius Malfoy might be, Dumbledore decided it was best not to interfere or pry further.
After giving Bryan, whose expression remained expressionless, a long, searching look, Dumbledore turned away. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the imposing door before them.
*Scene-break*
"Well, it seems our little adventure for tonight ends here. There are plenty of rooms upstairs, you can choose whichever you like. If you want something to eat, just call for Kreacher—"
Bryan had already left, and Dumbledore's Patronus had also vanished on the spot.
After chatting for a few more minutes, Sirius, who had been through a fierce battle and whose robes were stained red with blood, finally couldn't hold on any longer. He needed to go back to his room to tend to his wounds. After giving instructions, Sirius waved goodbye to everyone and dragged his weary body upstairs.
Bill and Charlie Weasley, equally battered and exhausted from the night's events, weren't far behind. They gave weak smiles and brief waves to Harry before hurriedly making their way upstairs, no doubt eager to collapse into their beds. Fred and George, uncharacteristically quiet, followed closely on their older brothers' heels.
As the older Weasleys disappeared up the stairs, Ron's attention turned to his younger sister, Ginny, who remained rooted to her spot in the room. His brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and irritation. "Why aren't you going up yet?" Ron said, his tone gruffer than he perhaps intended.
Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to face her brother. "What's it to you where I am, Weasley!" she spat back, her voice dripping with defiance. However, as her gaze flickered towards Harry and she noticed his hesitant expression, a shadow of gloom passed over her face, dulling the fire in her eyes.
Hermione had noticed the exchange and Ginny's sudden change in demeanor. "Ginny has the right to stay wherever she wants, Ron," she said, her voice tinged with irritation at Ron's overbearing behavior.
Despite Hermione's defense, Ginny didn't linger. With a contemptuous snort directed at Ron, she lifted her chin defiantly and strode towards the stairs.
"I'm her brother!" Ron's voice, filled with indignation at Ginny's attitude, could be heard throughout the first floor of the mansion.
Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically at Ron's outburst. "Oh, give it a rest, Weasley, and shut your mouth," she said, exasperation clear in her tone. Without waiting for a response, she made her way back into the garden, leaving Ron sputtering in her wake.
Sirius's tent was indeed luxurious. Like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, it could reflect the scene outside. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to their seats at the table in the garden, basking in the starlight and enjoying the tranquility after the fierce battle.
Both Harry and Hermione had participated in tonight's fight, with Harry having faced the most dangerous situation. The red swelling on his arm was a souvenir from that dark witch Melanov's vicious whip. If it hadn't been for the timely intervention of another powerful dark witch, Harry knew he might well be lying in a bed at St. Mungo's Hospital right now, rather than sitting here under the stars.
Hermione, too, bore the marks of battle. Her clothes, bought during a pleasant summer shopping trip with her parents at a Muggle mall, were now little more than tattered rags. She gazed dejectedly at the multiple tears in her once-favorite jacket, her mood visibly dampened by its destruction. With a resigned sigh, she shrugged off the dusty, ruined jacket and draped it over the armrest of her chair.
As Hermione looked up, her eyes fell on Harry and Ron. Both boys were staring at the table, lost in their own thoughts.
Harry's concerns were obvious— The appearance of the powerful dark witch and the shadowy figure that was almost certainly Voldemort were enough to give him a headache.
Ron's pensive expression, however, piqued Hermione's curiosity. It was unusual to see him so deep in thought, especially after such an eventful night.
"What are you thinking about, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.
Ron's head snapped up at her words. "Oh, can't you call me something else, Miss Granger?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. But the moment of light-heartedness was short-lived, and his expression quickly became somber once more. "I was thinking," he began, then hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. Finally, he pressed on, "I was wondering whether my decision to quit Professor Watson's class was too hasty."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and beside her, Harry raised his head to look at Ron with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Noticing their expressions, Ron's ears turned pink, and he grumbled, "Alright, I know you both probably think I'm being stupid!"
Hermione pursed her lips, considering her words carefully, and asked in a neutral tone. "What made you change your mind, Ron?"
'Is there even any need to ask this?' Harry complained in his heart.
At Hogwarts, no one doubted that Professor Watson was a wizard with extraordinary magical prowess. Even in the European magical community, the Head of Hogwarts Student Safety Office, who had single-handedly wiped out Greyback's notorious werewolf gang, was highly respected. But no one had anticipated that Professor Watson could be this powerful. No, to be precise, no one could have imagined that a wizard's power could actually burn mountains to ashes and conjure forests that reached the sky.
Harry could bet his Firebolt that if Professor Watson were to open enrollment to the entire Wizarding world now, even if he really did teach Muggle sports at Hogwarts, there would be more aspiring students than the Quidditch pitch could possibly hold. It was perfectly understandable for Ron to feel a twinge of regret at having dropped the class.
However, it was only tonight that Harry truly realized the practical value of Professor Watson's unorthodox training methods. If it weren't for the enhanced reflexes and physical conditioning, he had developed in those grueling physical education classes, that dark witch called Melanov might well have ended his life tonight.
Harry thought since Professor Watson had made it explicitly clear that he would not accept any young wizards who had abandoned the physical education class back into the course. A wizard of Professor Watson's caliber would never go back on his word, so even if Ron was experiencing regret now, there was little he could do to change the situation.
Hermione's raised eyebrows slowly lowered as she processed Ron's words. Not wanting to upset him further or rub salt in the wound, she turned her gaze to Harry, trying to change the subject.
"What about you?" she asked softly. "What are you thinking about, Harry?"
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Author's Note:
Hi everyone,
I wanted to let you know that I have to go somewhere today and will be away until the day after tomorrow. I will post today's chapter but tomorrow i may not be able to post. The updates will be regular from the day i return.
Thank you for your understanding and support!
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