Walburga Black spotted her son's cooling body and mechanically moved towards it. Her steps reminisced that of a swaying soul who had lost its sway. She fell to her knees, not minding for the pain that would hit through her with the act. With bitterly warm hands she caressed his dreadfully cold face. Like a small babe she cradled him.

She wept for her son and rued how selfish she was not to at least apologize. Now it was too late and she would have to live with it. In his world, much alike in the world of Orion and the world of Regulus – there would be no sign of her. And this was what she had wrought down upon herself. While a mother mourned for her eldest child the rest of the world went on to collect the dead.

Bellatrix closed her eyes so she wouldn't be able to look at Barty. This was one sleep he wouldn't be able to wake from. Avery squeezed her shoulder. Bellatrix scoffed at his impertinent gall. It was new to her. Or she'd forgotten forwardness after so long a time trapped in Azkaban.

The dead, everyone agreed, would be burned. ''Except for Eileen's boy.'' Walburga's voice cut through their planning. The Snapes were not practitioners of the old ways. They did not fret for the bodies of their dead and if they would be turned to vampires or inferi. ''She would want to bury him and talk with him.''

So, Thoros Nott stepped up to the task. He took out his wand and cast controlled fiendfyre at the corpses. They had given him a room very far from where everyone was. In case that he burned the damned place that no harm would befall them.

Thoros emerged victorious against the dead. ''It is done.'' He said. Everyone nodded along. Walburga was the quietest everyone had seen her. This didn't bode well for anybody.

''What about the injured?''

Ron Weasley had seen better days. Narcissa was pretending that she was not in pain (this was a skill all women learned at some point in their lives). Draco hadn't seen a healer since his de-petrification so this would be a good opportunity to do so. Lucius grabbed Narcissa and Draco both in a vice grip and announced to the world that his family was in dire danger of dying terrible, painful deaths if he didn't get them to a healer right this instant and that now that everything had considerably calmed they really didn't need to be here anymore. ''Ciao.''

''We need Cissa for the ritual.'' Andromeda waved. All eyes looked at her. She was holding a book she'd unearthed from the Black Library. ''The damage one Black makes must be mended by more to truly show our apology to the hurt parties. It's all here in the Book of Spells Children Should Not Touch. Very to the point, I must say. My great-great grandmother knew what was going on.''

Walburga glanced over to Augusta and how she held onto her very much alive son. Alice Longbottom continued to burn holes into the back of Bellatrix's head. Whether her niece noticed or not she did not let on.

''Can't we just hop on quickly to St. Mungo's –''

''Lucius, I swear to all of the Gods that anyone has ever believed in – shut up. Your poor attempts at running away are futile.'' Bellatrix sneered. Narcissa lovingly pat Lucius' hand and whispered that everything would be all right.

''Where's Hermione?'' Harry first noticed. He was pretty scraped up, as well. Though, Neville was the most emotionally scarred out of the lot of them and he really needed someone to look him over, or at least force-feed him calming draughts.

''Where the fuck is Abraxas Malfoy?'' Moody's electric blue eye surveyed the surroundings. He stomped about on his peg leg and snarled. ''Did he run, that traitor?''

''Someone should go to Eileen and hand her Severus' body.'' Walburga whispered. Her mind was only occupied by death and dead sons. ''I could go.'' Slowly she rose, but Bellatrix gently pushed her down. ''I think the Tonks' could go. Well, not Andromeda, obviously we need her for the ritual. But an auror and a muggleborn coming to their doorstep would be better received than us.''

Ted and Tonks went to deal with Severus and the Snapes.

Neville, Harry, and Ron were accompanied by Molly to St. Mungo's. Their cover story would be that they'd gotten into a pub fight over romance.

''Wait for the sake of the cover story who's the girl we'll use?''

Draco sputtered. ''Aren't you all just one haircut away from professing your undying love for each other?''

''Excuse me?''

''What the fuck, Malfoy?''

''You can't say something like that and not explain it!''

''Well,'' Draco pointed to Harry, ''we all know you're bisexual. You're obviously crushing on Weasley who's been your friend since forever. It's kind of sweet. Neville is a variable we haven't really given much thought, but by the way he's always following you two around and sitting next to you during meals at Hogwarts was too convenient to be true.''

''We're friends, man, not everything is about feelings and romance.''

''Also, who the fuck is 'we'?''

''Us, Slytherins. Theo and I got sloshed with the rest of the Slytherins once during our seventh year and made a diagram of who was hooking up with whom in our year. We all agreed that you three were just one illuminating conversation away from hooking up.''

''WHAT THE FUCK MALFOY?!'' Harry, Ron, and Neville were stammering and pointing at him all while sputtering about how this was totally not okay and that they were all really good friends.

Draco nodded. ''Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter.''

''Stop teasing them, Draco.'' Narcissa chided him fondly.

''You know what we haven't done?'' Lucius remembered. ''We haven't told the Greengrass that we'd found Draco. They were ready to find Astoria another match. We can't let that happen.''

Draco, who'd spent a small, but unforgettable chunk of his life petrified, puffed up his chest, straightened up his posture and tried to use the most commanding voice he could: ''Actually, father, about that...''

Once his father's silver eyes looked into his, Draco deflated like a balloon. ''Nevermind.''

''No,'' Lucius had vowed to be a better father than Abraxas, and that meant encouraging his son to speak, ''what is it, son? You can tell me anything.''

Draco summoned all of the strength he had in order to say: ''I do not want to marry Astoria Greengrass.''

''She's too young isn't she?'' Lucius nodded sagely.

''I told you so.'' Narcissa told him so.

''Cissa, please.''

''And I think I'm gay.''

''Okay. Well. Who isn't in this family... still – we'll find you a nice girl with no expectations.''

''And I'm seeing someone. I think. Before I was petrified we hooked up.''

''Well, son, that's lovely.''

He was contemplating how to say this next bit. It would be best to just put it out there: ''He's a vampire.''

Draco counted to three in her mind. ''HE'S A WHAT NOW?'' Lucius and Narcissa were outraged. Muggleborns they'd learned to tolerate, but vampires would forever be blood sucking parasites.

Draco, sensing danger and a lecture about to come from his parents, turned around to the merry gryffindor bunch and said: ''We're going to St. Mungo's now. Bye!''

''Draco, get back here.''

''Draco, darling, don't you dare walk away from us!''

The boys ran. Everyone watched them go. O, the speed of youth.

Abraxas and Hermione were nowhere to be found.

Walburga finally got up from her armchair and stalked up the stairs. She wanted to see Regulus' room. Once at the room's door she got an intense urge to go to the Library instead. Walburga Black gritted her teeth and fought through the compulsion.

''GET OUT OF MY SON'S ROOM YOU BLOOD TRAITOR! DON'T YOU START NOW MUDBLOOD!''

''How dare you?!''

''HOW DARE I? MY SONS ARE DEAD, GET OUT! GET OUT THIS INSTANT!''

''Walbie, my condolences-''

''THANK YOU! NOW GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK!''

Abraxas Malfoy and Hermione Granger were extracted from their hiding spot and put in the real world where problems couldn't be solved through talking. Well, actually, they could be solved through talking and coming to a mutually beneficial agreement. It was just a lot more complicated to do it when everyone was angry at one another.

''Hello, Orion.'' Abraxas winked at the portrait.

The man winked back and luridly greeted back: ''Hercules.''

Hermione wrinkled her nose at this: ''Hercules?''

Abraxas laughed. ''Oh, a quidditch nickname.'' He struck a mighty pose. ''Bludgers beware, the Slytherin Beater has the strength of Hercules at his disposal! No one calls me that except you, old friend.''

''I started it, I'll call you that to your grave.''

''Ha.'' Abraxas, currently immortal, had a lot to say to that. ''Your wife is in your youngest son's room mourning both of your children. Won't you join her?''

Orion nodded and began to shove the other portraits on his way to the room. ''It is what loved ones do.''

Abraxas turned to see Lucius and Narcissa seething at something. ''The nerve of that boy, Cissa. He gets this from your side of the family. A vampire, Narcissa. How could we- oh father hello – a VAMPIRE, NARCISSA!''

''What about vampires?'' Abraxas grimaced.

''Your grandson is apparently enamoured with one.'' Narcissa, too, wanted to distance herself from this situation.

''Oh gods.''

''YES!''

''How could you raise him to be like this?''

''We aren't at fault here –''

This went on.

Moody had to break it up because Narcissa was going to stand on her broken ankle and fight Abraxas Malfoy with her wand drawn up. ''Don't you dare blame me for your Malfoy genetics!''

''Andromeda went off and married a muggleborn – your cousin was in love with a werewolf.''

''Abraxas, your aunt married a muggle – let's not get into this nonsense!''

''You leave my Aunt Sevin out of this. She's been properly disowned since before I was born.''

''You told me she married a squib?''

''I lied to protect your feelings, Lucius, goodness – a father tries to do one good thing for his son.''

''Not this again.'' Narcissa raised her arms in the air and limped towards her sisters.

There was a serious complication with the Black plan to save the Longbottoms. Bellatrix and Andromeda were talking in hushed tones.

''We need five.''

''Five?''

''Sirius is dead and ash. We need five.''

''Fuck.''

Narcissa wound up interrupting them. She had a look of murder in her eyes: ''I am angry. Let's get Aunt Burga and do this.''

''We need a fifth.''

This was the last thing she needed right now: ''Fuck you.''

''What the hell did I do to you, Narcissa?'' Andromeda shook her head.

''She's just bitter her son's fucking a vampire.''

''I'm beginning to like that kid now.''

''Silence you harpies.''

If they didn't go through with the Longbottom ritual they would not be pardoned. Or allowed to conduct further experiments on how to remove the Dark Mark. So, Bellatrix was growing antsy. This fabled book was in a dead language called Ye Olde Black Codes that Bellatrix was too rebellious to properly learn, Narcissa was too invested in learning about mermaids to care, so the art of deciphering these old books fell on Andromeda's bloodtraitor-y shoulders. The irony was great.

''Says here that if there are not enough Blacks by birth to help with the ritual a Master of the Mind may work.''

''What's this Black by Birth nonsense. Married into Blacks are taught legilimency and occlumency, too.''

''This is a really old book. It wasn't common practise to do that until the 19th century.''

''Did you teach Nymphadora?''

''Oh gods I tried. She didn't pick it up.''

''That's a shame.''

''What about you and Draco?''

Narcissa's face soured at the memories. ''He's too... sensitive.''

They decided to take the conversation public. ''We need a Master of the Mind.''

''There are five in Europe.'' Moody supplied. He knew these things. ''Voldemort is one.''

''So, there are four in Europe.''

''Albus Dumbledore is an unofficial one.'' Moody added.

''He's dead.'' Abraxas answered. Everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged and looked away from their hungry gazes. The Order had no idea. He twiddled with his thumbs and fanned their looks away. ''What are the other official Mind Masters?''

''There is Izet Fazlinović.'' Bellatrix remembered his persuasion skills. The way that man knew how to con was legendary.

''Dead.''

''Now that's a right shame.''

''Carmelita Garcia Lopez?'' Narcissa heard her name be tossed around.

''Presumed dead after she staged a coup d'etat on a conference in Munich.''

''Tove Koivu?''

''Retired.'' Moody crossed his arms.

''Do we really care about retirement?''

''And also in Faerie on vacation.''

''Well, that makes Tove not so easy to track down.''

''Who's left?''

There was silence in the room at such a question. Hermione didn't know what was so wrong with asking. Abraxas caught on and laughed, tone of voice high like a peacock. Narcissa pursed her lips together and whispered: ''We're fucked.''

''What's with the crass language today, Cissa?''

''I am tired of propriety.''

''You are validated.'' Bellatrix patted Narcissa dearly on the back. ''Curse all you like.''

''Who's the last Master of the Mind?'' Hermione asked again. It couldn't be anyone bad, could it? Not worse than Lord Voldemort surely?

Mandy Leach had her legs propped up on an ottoman now that she was in her own home. She'd had a stressful day at work and wanted to unwind with a glass of red wine and seasonally appropriate music. Her record player was enchanted and played a classic for these winter times.

~I really can't stay ~

''Baby it's cold outside.'' Mandy sang.

~I gotta go away~

''Baby it's cold outside.'' She took a sip of the wine and reminisced of a time when it wasn't just her singing this song alone.

~This evening has been~

''Been hoping that you'd dropped in.''

~So very nice~

''I'll hold your hands they're just like ice.'' Her voice broke on the last word and she spelled the record player silent.

''My beloved.'' She covered her eyes with one hand and whispered: ''My dear, dead men.''

Once the Black sisters dragged out Walburga Black from her son's room they told her that the situation was dire. ''All of this hangs by a small, thin thread, Aunt Burga. We're all counting on you not to be a bitch to Madame Leach when she comes here.''

''I can behave myseLF IF SHE DOES AS WELL, THAT CANTANKEROUS MUDBLOOD!''

That Cantankerous mudblood, otherwise known as Mandy Leach, emerged from the fireplace slowly. She nonchalantly fanned the soot off of her clothes. The first person she saw was the one that had called her: ''Alastor, consider me surprised. You were once on my husband's security detail and yet I find you in the presence of his murderers now. Perhaps I shall decide to finally scour your mind and see if you, indeed, let him be killed that day knowingly.''

Alastor Moody grumbled under his breath and retreated. He did not say anything to Mandy Leach. Her presence in the Ancestral home of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was taken as a peculiarity by the portraits.

Only one shouted at the top of her lungs: ''MUDBLOOD!''

Mandy Leach looked around and found the source. It came from a portrait of Walburga Black. The real banshee was not talking. She didn't speak a single word either when Mandy Leach swished out her wand from underneath her sleeve and sent a black spell skyrocketing at the portrait. In mere seconds it was torn to shreds. ''Yes, for all of you wondering, it is applicable to living people, not only portraits.'' Then she added, quite casually for someone in her position, ''And, yes, I will use it on you if you give me a reason to. Now that this is out of the way, hello to all of you that do not know me, I am Healer Leach.''

Abraxas attempted to be cordial. He waved around his hands, causing his sleeves to slide down to reveal skin riddled with deep scars and, what was more interesting to Leach: a bracelet full of symbols.

''You have a whole person on your bracelet, Malfoy.''

The Order members latched onto the bracelet and asked what Leach meant by this. Abraxas sputtered and tried to switch the subject, but she would not allow him. ''You have dragged me into this mess, proper, I shall out you as holding back information. He has Lord Voldemort's horcruxes on his hand. By the looks of it there are all of them there.''

''Harry Potter is one!'' Abraxas shouted.

Molly Weasley looked just about ready to fall down. Arthur caught her.

''Harry Potter used to be one.'' Hermione illuminated. ''While he was a horcrux he could speak with snakes, after getting attacked at the Quidditch World Cup, he stopped speaking parseltongue - ergo, it is safe to assume and even conclude that Harry Potter is not a horcrux anymore. It is also very obvious that Harry was made into one accidentally. I mean, Mr. Goldsmith - er - Voldemort told me some things about horcrux creation. All hypothetical of course!''

Abraxas and Mandy had flashbacks to Slughorn in that moment.

''He taught you dark magic?'' Moody inquired.

Hermione refused to cower at his mighty gaze. She stood her ground and admitted that, yes, ''We talked a lot about many different topics. It's not like we would do anything with it. Knowledge cannot hurt you.''

''Wait...how did you meet with Voldemort?'' Mandy asked, focusing on this child in front of her and ignoring the adults who desperately needed her.

''There was this mentorship program.'' And then Hermione, now that she was overall more calm than before, came to a deliciously terrible realisation. Slowly she turned towards Abraxas Malfoy and took out her wand. ''I should have gotten Gilderoy Lockhart were it not for you, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!''

Abraxas Malfoy raised up a shield with the elder wand. Hermione sent a few spells at it, to test its potency. She found it extremely powerful.

Moody noted that his wand was not the same willow wand he always used. ''That's Dumbledore's wand you prick!''

''I can explain!''

Walburga remained seated while Round Two of The Battle of Grimmauld Place began. Mandy gestured her face and hissed: ''Stand up, you inbred bitch.''

Said inbred bitch did not deign to stand up. ''No, you filthy mudblood.''

''That word holds no malice in my heart anymore. You have no power over it and you have no more power over me.'' Mandy held up her wand, oak, and slipped these next words out like the sweetest lullaby: ''But you need me. And since you need me, Black, you have to do as I say.''

Through gritted teeth Walburga admitted that she wasn't wrong. ''You have already destroyed my portrait, what more would you want of me?''

''I want my husband back, of course but I know you cannot help me with that.''

Walburga' lips twitched. ''That death brought us more evil than any before or after him. If we had only known.''

''You killed him because he was not a pureblood.''

''We did nothing. It was Abraxas Malfoy. He was not acting on anyone's orders. It was he and he alone that killed your husband. ''

Not far from the two emotional-baggage heavy-weight champions that were Walburga Black and Mandy Leach, Abraxas Malfoy had just admitted to being a Hallow Holder, immortal, and having killed Albus Dumbledore. There was snot all over his face as he tried to explain that Albus had asked him to die. ''I am so sorry!''

''Mr. Abraxas, .FUCK?''

''Hermione, dear girl, I am going through a lot right now.''

''You didn't mention this in therapy time.'' Before Walburga had dragged them out of Regulus' room, Hermione and Abraxas were scheming a scheme. They were, also, having a therapeutic talk about their fucked up lives and their connection to a guy who wasn't emotionally sound enough to admit to love. Though, Hermione did say that he said he loved food. Abraxas said that it was good of him to practise. ''Maybe one day he'll actually say I love you to a human being.''

However, they had much pressing matters to attend to that had very little to do with their corroding mental health. Moody was shouting: ''YOU KILLED ALBUS DUMBLEDORE!''

''I did, yes! I am so, so sorry.''

''Well,'' Arthur always looked on the bright side of life, ''at least this proves he hasn't eloped with Gellert Grindelwald like the papers say.''

''Did they really use the term elope?'' Bellatrix was flabbergasted.

''All but.''

A little back where the real power play was happening, Mandy was seated next to Walburga. ''I could just take my revenge and scar you like you did me. Why did you scar me, Blak?''

''It was such a long time ago, who can remember why one scars a lesser.'' Walburga Black forced a smile to her lips, if only to irritate Mandy Leach.

''Alastor told me your son's died.''

''He has.''

''A shame. The one good thing you ever made - dead.''

''What do you want from me?''

''I am thinking.''

''Would you like your husband?'' Orion Black's portrait smiled and waved once all of the attention was directed to him. He looked like a man with a plan. Possibly he was the only one with a plan in this begotten house.

''Talk, Portrait boy.'' Mandy gave him permission with a hand wave. He mockingly bowed.

''Ever so pleased to be allowed to speak my mind in my own home. Thank you, Madame Leach.'' Orion cleared his throat and announced, loudly, so everyone present could become privy to the conversation. ''I may either make a complete arse of myself or I may save the situation entirely. This depends on laws I have not followed that have come after my death. Keep a civil tongue now, and do pay attention to what your resident artist has to say.''

Orion liked to think of himself as an artist, mostly because fairies respected artists and if he ever came to a situation where he needed to barter with a fairy, he would use this to his advantage. The parties present, however, were not fairies and cared not if he was an artist. For the sake of moving the narrative on, the would hear him out.

''Madame Leach desires only one thing! A thing she firmly believes is out of her and our reach. Sneaky, sneaky Madame Leach - she does not wish to help us so she thinks of requests that are beyond our comprehension. Her husband, the late Minister Leach, you know, that person that died a very heinous and unspeakable death which has led us to war and we are still trying to survive the consequences of said war. Yes, we are all acquainted with the players now.'' Orion peered peculiarly hard at Molly Weasley. ''There is nothing better to do than listen to all of you talk and scheme the destruction of Tom Riddle. Yes, gasp all you like, please, and entertain this old portrait. I speak his name and fear no fallout. A portrait is never his target. You all underestimate how much a portrait is like a human being. We have cognitive thought. It depends, however, on who paints us. I admit, I could have made my beloved Walburga's portrait a tad less… loud.''

''You painted that thing?'' What few fans Orion Black had, he would lose when he answered affirmatively to Lucius Malfoy.

''You bastard.''

''You ruined my hearing thanks to that banshee of a portrait.''

''The fucking nerve of you.''

''How dare you speak to us?''

Orion Black turned to his wife and she shrugged. ''You've been derailed, honey.''

''I really have.'' Orion sighed. Then turned to the mass and clapped his hands. ''Stop it. I was actually getting somewhere with this. Mandy Leach wants her husband back. The body of Nobby Leach may be gone for good, but the spirit of Nobby Leach may still be salvageable through his portrait!''

''His what now?''

''All of the Ministers get painted.''

Mandy Leach's left eye twitched. ''They said it was burned.''

''They lied to you.''

''Excuse me?''

''A Ministry portrait cannot leave the Ministry, not even to be given to a grieving widow.'' Orion shimmied in his portrait. He had everyone's attention again and they were not shouting insults at him. In his humble opinion this was a success. ''It was easier to lie to you, Madame Leach, than to explain.''

''But it is not where all of the portraits are.''

''Well that's blood prejudice and conservatism. Nobby Leach did always have a mouth on him. Very distracting. The portrait is someplace in the deep bowels of that bureaucratic machinery.''

''I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH UMBRIDGE AGAIN!'' Thoros Nott was still having flashbacks.

''No one is asking you to, Thoros, goodness!''

''NEVER AGAIN!''

''Tis fine, my dear friend, tis perfectly fine.''

Mandy Leach regarded Orion and said: ''You are certain of this. Do you think they did not simply destroy him?''

''It is sacrilege to destroy a portrait of a Minister. Especially because the painter has them all cursed. Anyone that wishes them harm will die. Perhaps we should have cursed the Minister with such a curse. We could have avoided a war.'' Orion laughed and levelled his eyes on Abraxas. ''Would you like to humiliate your husband's killer, Madame Leach? Have him go to the Ministry and find the portrait himself?''

Mandy Leach blinked at such a proposition. Her lips curled in a smile. She had a beautiful smile that didn't look beautiful in Abraxas' perspective: it looked positively malicious. ''I find that I would quite enjoy watching him do that, yes. Also, Walburga Black must apologize for my face.''

''I apologize for trying to make you look acceptable for public viewing.''

''We'll work on that.'' Orion promised Mandy.

Meanwhile Abraxas was forced to his feet and told to go to the deepest bowels of the Ministry and fetch Nobby Leach's Ministry portrait.

''Where is it?''

''Gods strike me down if I know.'' Orion shrugged.

Abraxas threatened to wash his paint off and turn him into a surrealist's watercolor.

Soon everyone was squabbling and trying to draw plans of the Ministry in order to pinpoint the exact location of the Minister's portrait.

''Maybe the Unspeakables wound up with it?''

''If that is the case we will never find it.''

''Madame Leach, may we interest you in something else?''

Like a petulant child with all of the power in the room, Mandy Leach grinned and threw back her head to laugh at such a preposterous preposition. ''I want my husband's portrait and nothing else. Or I'll take all of the horcruxes?''

''No, no. We can find your husband's portrait.'' Abraxas quickly shouted, grabbing hold of the bracelet tightly.

''What the bloody hell would she do with the horcruxes?'' Alastor Moody wondered aloud.

''As much as we would like to think we know the Ministry… there is no way we can find it without having someone on the inside.''

''I just show up to speak to the Minister.'' Lucius defended himself when they all looked to him. Next they switched their gaze o Arthur who stumbled through his explanation: ''I only know my area of work. Sorry.''

''We need someone who would die for that bloody place.''

''That ISN'T BLOODY UMBRIDGE!''

''Yes, Lord Nott, someone who isn't Umbridge.''

''Well…'' Molly dared speak of a person who wasn't on speaking terms with her, ''there is Percy?''

''Mollykins, dear, he said we were stifling him and branched off to be on his own. To make it out into the world on his own merit. The very last thing he'll want to do is talk to us.'' Arthur then aired out some grievances how his son Percy had decided that he could do better than his family.

''Where is he?'' Lucius asked. ''Where did they shove such promising youth.'' The last part was said as derisively as possible. The Ministry loathed the youth. The youth was only ever there for fetching coffee or cleaning rainy coats. Or there to be yelled at.

''Personally I never checked. I wanted to honour his request to keep out of his climb to the top. It can't be anywhere useful, though.''

''They never put the young people anywhere useful. Not without serious connections.''

''Poor Percy.''

Percy Weasley didn't have his own office. It would be ludicrous to expect one when he'd just started working this level. Parchment rolls stacked his desk. He would need to go through them by the end of the day. The room smelled like sewage. Mostly because the squib janitors kept their dirty mops in this room, as well.

Stacks of toilet paper made a small tower on his left side. At least he never had to worry about running out while at work. His desk was incredibly small. His chair was smaller. Percy tried to spell them bigger, but every morning he would come to the small sized ones. It'd become repetitive. Once, Percy swore that he'd seen a mouse. It ate something that had died in a far corner of his office space.

But even that wasn't the worst of it.

No, the worst of it had to come from the portrait mounted on the wall straight across from his desk. It was of a man with a brown mustache. He twirled it while he talked. And talked he only did. No matter the silencing charm Percy cast on the damned thing, it wouldn't stop talking to him. It wouldn't stop singing to him.

''Minister Leach,'' Percy cupped his head in his hands and whispered, ''please, shut up.''

''But Percy! I am just getting started!''