Chapter 53 – Bent—Not Broken

The day started out as any normal day for Jean-Sebastian. Breakfast with his wife and youngest daughter had been followed by a quick conference with the French Minister, and then he Flooed to the British Ministry to meet with the British Minister. It was an ordinary Monday, regardless of what it had turned into later.

As much as Jean-Sebastian had personally loathed Cornelius Fudge and decried the man's head-in-the-sand attitude, no one was more relieved that he was now out of office, and if he was to be honest with himself, Jean-Sebastian did not even feel much sorrow over the former Minister's ultimate fate. Perhaps it was beneath him to feel this way, though he did not take any overt enjoyment over the fact that the man was now dead, but the fact of the matter was that Fudge had been endangering countless lives with his policies. It was better for the rest of the country—and arguably the world—that he was now gone. It was better that he was dead than to continue to lead the British Wizarding world astray.

By contrast, Minister Bones was a breath of fresh air when compared to the stodgy, ever-proper, but ever-bumbling Fudge. It had been clear within minutes of first meeting Amelia Bones that she was a woman of action, one who backed up her words with immediate deeds, rather than with empty platitudes which she did not intend to keep. And thus far the Ministry under her leadership had made a substantial change, though more was ultimately needed—one did not alter an organization of such complexity as a national government overnight, after all, and there were still many who fulfilled the kind of "yes man" roles which Fudge had so adored in positions of power. But the changes were being made, and the country slowly was being put back on the right course.

Thus it was that Jean-Sebastian made his way to the Ministry that morning through the public Floos and then up the lifts to the administration area, to be ushered in to meet with the Minister. The subject was the possibility of British/French cooperation in opposing Voldemort's forces.

They exchanged pleasantries and soon were speaking of the subject at hand. However, they had been speaking of the matter for merely half an hour when they were interrupted by a pair of Aurors who burst into the room unannounced.

"Minister, the building is under attack!" one of the Aurors exclaimed when the Minister rose to demand the reason for the intrusion. "We must get you to a secure location."

"Under attack?" Madam Bones gasped. "Who?"

To the Auror's credit, he ignored any overt response to such an obvious question. "Death Eaters," the man replied as he hustled around the desk and pulled her toward the Floo.

"I will not flee, Peterson," Bones stated as she tried to pull her arm from his grasp. "I must coordinate the defense."

"With all due respect, Madam Minister," Jean-Sebastian interjected, rising to his feet, "I believe you are thinking like the Director of Magical Law Enforcement rather than the Minister. You are the head of this government. You must be kept safe to continue to lead Britain if the Ministry should fall."

Madam Bones gazed at him for a moment before tightly nodding her understanding. "As much as I wish it were not so, you are correct, Ambassador. I believe it would be best if you were to accompany me."

"Of course."

Quickly the Aurors escorted her to the Floo and one grasped a handful of powder and stated, "Minister's Retreat!" But though the powder induced slight flaring of the green fire, there was no other response.

"They've taken the Floo system down!" Madam Bones cried. "Here—hold on to me and I will activate my emergency portkey." The three men drew closer, but when the Minister touched her wand to the necklace around her neck, once again nothing happened.

Outside the door, shouts and screams began to echo through the halls, while curses and the sounds of spellfire began to approach the Minister's office.

"We must defend the Minister," Jean-Sebastian yelled, and he moved to the door in the company of one of the Aurors, while the other took up position in between Madam Bones and the door.

"Hold them off for a few seconds while I activate the defenses of this office!"

Jean-Sebastian eased the door open, intent upon seeing the situation out in the hallways. It was a mess of bodies, a scrambling mass of workers screaming in fright, fleeing this way and that, trying to escape the onslaught of the approaching Death Eaters. In the distance, but rapidly approaching the office, Jean-Sebastian could see the approaching attackers as they fired into the fleeing workers indiscriminately, while making their way toward the Minister's office, obviously their main objective.

Slowly, Jean-Sebastian began to ease the door closed again. "Minister?" he asked

"Step back from the door, Jean-Sebastian," the Minister directed.

Jean-Sebastian did as she asked and turned to watch her. Minister Bones was hunched over a small orb, which appeared to be made of some sort of crystal, but which was covered with runes of all sorts. She gingerly touched a single rune on the top of the orb, which glowed bright blue, and then she touched another around the side. The orb flared brightly for a moment before it faded to a soft gentle light. There was no visible change in the room, or in the door behind him, however, and Jean-Sebastian turned a curious eye on Madam Bones.

"This orb is known to only the Minister and a few Unspeakables," she explained, and though the appearance of immediate alarm due to the attack had receded, the worry concerning their situation had not. "The rune I just pressed activated extra defenses against intrusion, but unfortunately does not give us another way to escape this office." She smiled wryly. "It's actually a holdover from centuries ago, a relic of a bygone age before portkeys were invented. I suppose I should be thankful that it's still even available for use. I believe it was meant to be scrapped long ago, but for some reason, there was always something else more pressing to be done."

"And what does it do?" Jean-Sebastian asked, he would admit a trifle impatiently.

"It casts a modified Duro on the room. It changes the walls and door to a rock which is incredibly hard—far more durable than any natural stone. It will take them some time to blast their way though."

"Enough time for a rescue to be mounted?"

Madam Bones sighed. "Assuming a rescue is possible. I'm not sure what happened, but the fact that our portkeys don't work and that they have made it this far, suggests a well-planned and coordinated attack, and maybe to new magical abilities which we are not aware of. We may have done nothing more than delay the inevitable."

"Perhaps," Jean-Sebastian replied, determination filling him. "But we may take some of them with us if they do break through."

Jean-Sebastian's quiet determination appeared to fill them all. Thus began perhaps the most nerve wracking hour of Jean-Sebastian's life. Very soon after they had sealed themselves in the office, they began to hear a muffled crashing which grew louder as the time wore on. Clearly, the Death Eaters had discovered what the Minister had done and were attempting to use Reductors and blasting curses to try to force their way through the wall, but true to the Minister's words, it appeared to be very slow going. Not only were those two curses draining, but the wall indeed did appear to be much harder than a standard Duro would create.

During this time, they were not idle. The large mahogany desk was upended and set facing the door while they strengthened it with charms to give them something to take cover behind if the Death Eaters did manage to break through. Everything which could be put as an impediment was stacked against the now stone wall, to give them a few more precious seconds. But those preparations did not actually take long to accomplish, and soon they were hunkered down behind their cover, waiting for the Death Eaters to come through, while the tension rose ever higher with the sound of the Death Eaters' constant assault on the walls of their sanctuary.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of steadily increasing booms and vibrations, the wall shuddered under the assault, and then a small hole was opened near the middle of the door. Through the chips of stone which flew out from the door, Jean Sebastian saw a pair of eyes peering in through the small hole and, without even consciously considering his actions, he reacted.

"Diffindo!" he cried, and the spell shot through the small opening and the eyes abruptly disappeared from the hole, accompanied by a scream of pain.

Suddenly several wands were thrust in through the hole and a hail of spellfire emerged, though not being able aim, most of the spells went completely awry. One of the Aurors responded with a Reductor, and there was an explosion of blood and flesh and bits of bone where the hands once were, the screams of the injured, sounding throughout the room. And then the steady pounding resumed. The Death Eaters concentrated on making the hole big enough for a man to fit through, being very careful to avoid exposing themselves to further retaliation from those in the room.

Then the true assault began. The Death Eaters managed to open several smaller holes in the wall, and once these access points were open, they began firing spells of all kinds through the openings, forcing the defenders to take cover. Then, once the main hole had been enlarged, the enemy rushed the room, though only one was able to fit through the door at a time. The first few were cut down by a hail of fire from the four defenders, before a few were able to force their way past the bodies of their fellows and advanced upon the overturned desk, their wands spitting curses.

Returning fire began to be much more problematic as the desk which they were taking cover behind began to disintegrate under the onslaught and more and more wands were brought to bear against them. Even so, they were still holding their own until a Death Eater hit the side of the table with a blasting curse, sending fragments flying out behind the table. The side of it collapsed heavily, a large chunk of it falling on Jean-Sebastian, while fragments flew out, embedding in his thigh and lower leg. Jean-Sebastian cried out in pain and struggled to remove the heavy wood from his back, while his companions grimly kept returning fire.

But as abruptly as it had begun, the assault broke off, and those firing through the holes were suddenly silenced. Deprived of their cover fire, the three uninjured defenders were quickly able to subdue the few remaining Death Eaters who were now caught in a no-man's land with a heavy stone wall to their backs. Fearful for what the Death Eaters were now planning the defenders waited for what seemed like an eternity for the next assault to begin. Jean-Sebastian trembled from the pain of his injuries, knowing that when they did finally attack again, they would not be able to hold out much longer.

Then, a voice sounded from beyond the broken wall. "Minister Bones?"

"Dumbledore?" the Minister responded, her voice filled at once with both relief and suspicion.

The ancient wizard stuck his head in through the opening, and nearly got hexed for his trouble. "Minister, are you well?" the ancient wizard queried.

"Yes, but Jean-Sebastian is injured," the Minister replied, rising from her position behind the desk.

The next moments passed in a haze of pain for Jean-Sebastian. He knew there was conversation occurring about securing the building and the investigation beginning into how Voldemort's forces managed to pull off an attack of this magnitude. However, the pain of his injuries had caught up with him when the adrenaline of fighting for his life had subsided. He answered a few questions from the Auror triage healer who was brought in to look at his injuries, but more than that seemed to be beyond him. He was in pain and a bone-deep weariness had settled over him.

"Jean-Sebastian," a voice said from somewhere close to his ear.

Jean-Sebastian opened his eyes and saw the Headmaster looking at him with some concern.

"We will evacuate you to Hogwarts for treatment, as there is some question as to how widespread these attacks have been."

Smiling wanly, Jean-Sebastian replied, "I would love to see Fleur."

"Of course. Now, if you will allow me, we have determined that portkeys are still working from the third level down. Minister Bones has assigned two Aurors to see you down to the third floor where you will be taken to Hogwarts by portkey."

"Albus," Jean-Sebastian said with a sudden burst of clarity, "please have someone check on the Ambassador's Manor. I need to know if Apolline and Gabrielle are safe."

"I will take care of that, Ambassador," Kingsley Shacklebolt said from where he was standing a few feet away.

"Thank you both," Jean-Sebastian replied, and he lay back down, succumbing to the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness.

The wait for those at Hogwarts was just as excruciating as it was for those in the Minister's office, though certainly not as dangerous or as hair-raising. For nothing truly happened at Hogwarts—Dumbledore's concerns about an attack elsewhere pulling him away from Hogwarts, leaving it ripe for attack, proved to be groundless.

Taking control of the castle's defenses immediately after Dumbledore's departure—though of course he made certain to defer to McGonagall and seek her opinion—Harry set out the patrol schedule and saw to the disposition of the Defense Association. Fleur and Hermione were ever-present, of course, giving their opinions and helping by pointing out anything he had missed, or by seeing to the instructions of the various members. Thus it was very soon after Dumbledore's departure that everything was settled and the Association members were out in the halls patrolling.

For Harry, the whole experience was almost a little surreal. The club aside, Harry had never been the one to be truly in charge of anything, but in this situation everyone looked to him to make the decisions and to determine what was to be done. If Harry was honest with himself, he would acknowledge that it was a little intimidating—how did one stand in for a wizard with the experience, intelligence, and competence of Albus Dumbledore?

It was not long, however, before he began to understand two things. The first was that no one expected him to be Dumbledore—he was expected to be Harry, a wizard who, though much younger, had his own strengths to help lead the way, but his own weaknesses as well, weaknesses which he should not be ashamed of, and which could be mitigated by the strengths of those around him. The second thing he discovered was that he was actually enjoying himself. He had always shied away from the spotlight, content to remain in the background, and detesting when he actually was the focus of attention. In this instance, however, he was a focus of attention, and yet, because he was involved in the disposition of the club members and everything else that went with it, he was able to ignore the whispers of those in the hall. It was a heady feeling to know that he was being useful to those at Hogwarts in seeing to the security of the school.

Even the words and actions of Roger Davies were not something which could really bother him. The Head Boy had proven himself to be nothing more than petty and childish, and Harry decided that rather than be offended by the boy's action, he would just ignore him.

As the time wore on, Harry discussed the situation with Flitwick and McGonagall, while keeping a surreptitious eye on the Slytherins, noting the fact that they appeared to be content to simply sit and wait it out. Either they were consummate actors, or they were aware that no attack on Hogwarts was to occur that day. Harry thought the latter, as he suspected that Voldemort had thrown most of his forces at the Ministry in an attempt to take over the Wizarding government. When he pointed this out to his friends, the response was generally in agreement.

"I doubt that Voldemort will do anything to jeopardize their positions here," Fleur said, gesturing at the Slytherins. "He's already lost three firm supporters—if he plans to do anything about Hogwarts in the future, he'll need them here."

"So you think they won't do anything today?" Hermione asked.

"We'll see," Harry said firmly. "The wards should be strong enough to deflect any attack. They would have to do something from the inside to help them get in."

"Could they do that?" Hermione asked Professor McGonagall.

"They would have to go through me first," the professor said with a smile. "While the Headmaster is gone, I control the wards. They would have to remove me, and then someone would have to gain control of the wards themselves. I doubt school children would be able to accomplish that."

"There is always the possibility of forcing their way through," said Hermione, in a worried tone.

"These wards are ancient and strong," said McGonagall with a reassuring smile. "It would take the Death Eaters some time to force their way through."

"We'll just have to make sure those inside don't have the chance," Harry replied grimly. "We can worry about Death Eaters assaulting the wards when it actually happens."

Thus the early part of the afternoon passed with no word from the Headmaster or anyone else regarding the state of the battle, and Harry found himself growing impatient. Yes, he was aware of the fact that he was performing an essential task at Hogwarts, but the more impatient part of him—and perhaps the impulsive part, he had to admit—wanted to be out there in the thick of the fight against Voldemort. This sitting and waiting for word was wearing.

It was perhaps mid-afternoon when the doors to the Great Hall opened and in walked Padma Patil who, along with Anthony Goldstein, had been patrolling an area of the castle beyond the Transfiguration corridor. She hurried toward the small table in which they had set up their operations.

"Harry," she greeted as she approached. "Madam Pomfrey wants to see you and Fleur in the hospital wing as soon as possible."

Puzzled, Harry exchanged a brief look with Fleur before turning back to the Ravenclaw. "What does she want?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, but she said it was important."

"Very well, Miss Patil," McGonagall broke into the conversation. "Mr. Potter, Miss Delacour, you should attend Madam Pomfrey immediately."

Harry thought to protest, but Hermione laughed and shooed him along. "We can handle things here while you're gone. Go ahead—I can fill you in if anything happens when you get back."

Reluctantly, Harry allowed himself to be pulled away from the Great Hall, and he and Fleur began making their way to the other end of the castle, along with Padma, who was returning to her patrol partner. Subsequent questioning of Padma revealed nothing—she had been making her rounds with Anthony, and when they had passed close to the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey had stuck her head out the door and asked that Harry and Fleur be summoned. Nothing further had been said by the nurse.

"What do you suppose she wants us for?" Harry asked.

"Maybe someone was injured during their patrols?" Fleur suggested.

"That doesn't seem likely," Harry replied with skepticism. "Why wouldn't she just say so if that was the case?"

Fleur shrugged. "I don't know, but we'll find out in a few minutes." She was silent for a moment before she changed the subject, "Hermione and I have been talking. We think we've come up with a way to make the charmed galleons we gave to all the club members more useful."

Cocking an eyebrow, and knowing that she was trying to distract him, Harry nodded. "How?" he prompted.

"Well, it was more Hermione's idea than anything else," Fleur said, with a self-deprecating smile. "We thought we'd modify the charm to allow us to pass more characters than we could before."

"How would that work? There's not much room on a galleon for long messages."

"We wouldn't need messages that long," Fleur said with a smile. She had taken his hand and as they walked, pulling him along in apparent enthusiasm, though what she had to be enthusiastic about, Harry had no idea. "We could develop a shorthand system, something which would allow us to say more with fewer words."
"That's got possibilities," Harry admitted.

As they continued to walk, Fleur continued to discuss the matter with some animation. Harry watched her, noting the healthy sheen her excitement gave her already beautiful skin, and the brightness of her deep blue eyes and the way she sometimes playfully swung their hands as they walked in wide arcs, causing him to laugh and retaliate by swinging them even wider.

But something bothered Harry about her behavior. Fleur had always been a little more serious than playful, had been personable, but had never truly put herself forward into the spotlight in any way. He was not certain what to make of her behavior, for in the past day or so, she almost seemed like she was trying to attract his attention, when before she would have been content to sit back and allow him to notice her on his own.

He could not tell even himself exactly what it was about her that was catching his attention, he decided, thinking that she was still the same intelligent and caring girl he had come to know over the past several months. But there was just something, maybe a trifle… forced about her behavior that had never been there before, and if Harry was honest with himself, he found that it worried him a little.

But the fact of the matter was that he was not certain exactly what to call it, let alone how to talk to her about it. It was better to simply watch her and allow her to come to him on her own time, he decided. Surely their relationship was strong enough for her to confide in him if something was truly bothering her. Settling for just watching her and speaking with her later if her behavior kept changing, he followed her into the hospital ward. But not before she leaned back toward him with her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Maybe you should go first," she teased. "From what I've heard, you know this place pretty well—almost like it's a second home."

Harry directed a mock glare at her, as she opened the door and motioned him to step in. "Now be nice," he chided.

When they turned into the hospital wing all levity died.

"Papa?" Fleur breathed at the sight of Jean-Sebastian lying in a nearby bed.

"Hello, Petal," Jean-Sebastian said, using his pet name for her that he had used when she was a child. His voice was wan but alert.

Fleur rushed to his bedside followed closely by Harry, where she grasped her father's hand fiercely in her own. "Papa, what happened?"

"I understand you already know about what has happened at the Ministry today?"

"You were there?" Fleur asked with a gasp.

"Visiting with the Minister," Jean-Sebastian confirmed.

"What happened, sir?" Harry pressed. "Have the Death Eaters been beaten back?"

"Now, Harry," Jean-Sebastian replied with an amused smile, "what have I said about you calling me 'sir'?"

Abashedly, but also somewhat impatiently, Harry nodded to acknowledge his reproof, while fixing Fleur's father with a stern glare demanding answers. Jean-Sebastian let out a laugh, which was then followed by a slight grimace. But he then obliged them by launching into a description of the day's events, ending with his evacuation to Hogwarts.

Harry was troubled. "So they didn't want to risk sending you to St. Mungo's? I thought they only attacked the Ministry."

"I don't know of any other attacks," Jean-Sebastian pointed out. "But considering the Ministry has been out of touch with the rest of the Wizarding world for the duration of the battle, they felt it was best not to take any chances." Chuckling, Jean-Sebastian continued, "I am a foreign dignitary, after all, and the Minister would not want to have to tell my government that I had been killed at a location where I should have been safe."

"What of those injured at the Ministry?" Fleur asked.

"One of the first things they will do will be to send teams to see if there are any other attacks. Then St. Mungo's will be secured and the injured moved there. If there is any problem there, then I assume that more injured will show up here."

"And we will be ready to handle them," Madam Pomfrey broke into the conversation, "though I would wish there were more healers to assist." She turned to Harry. "In the meantime, Mr. Potter, one of your patrols just stepped into the room. It seems you are wanted in the Great Hall."

Harry nodded. "We need to let everyone know that the attack is over anyway."

"We should keep patrolling, though," Fleur said.

"Yes, but at least they should know where we stand now."

"All right," Fleur replied. "I will see you later, Papa."

"Why don't you stay here, Fleur?" Harry interjected. "I'll go and speak with McGonagall."

"I would appreciate the company, Fleur," Jean-Sebastian said while patting his daughter on the hand. "We haven't spoken much since Christmas."

"Then it's settled," Harry stated.

Fleur appeared like she would have preferred to leave with Harry, but she nodded her acquiescence with a smile, leaning her cheek up to accept an affectionate kiss before Harry left. As Harry made his way back to the Great Hall, he wondered at what had happened that day and what Voldemort was trying to accomplish. By taking over the Ministry he would have gained control of many of the tools the Ministry used to monitor the country, and Harry imagined that their use could be corrupted in the hands of one as ruthless and inventive as Voldemort. But was that all there was to it? And why had he not as yet made a play for Hogwarts?

There were no answers at this juncture. There was nothing to do but wait, watch, and counter whatever the madman decided to do next. But at some point, they would fight back. Of this Harry was certain.

An hour after the assault had finally been broken and the final Death Eaters had been routed from the building, a semblance of order was finally returning to the Ministry. It had taken a beating, as the scorched walls, battered and completely destroyed furniture and doors, and the faint miasma of death and destruction in the air could testify. No less had its workers suffered, however, though thus far it was a relief to discover that the number of casualties—though substantial—was far less than had been feared or expected. Some workers had even managed to fight back against the Death Eaters, slowing them down and inflicting losses on their side that they had surely not planned for. In all, the image the Wizarding government was presenting was that of a prize fighter whose opponent had scored a knockdown, but not the desired knockout. They were bloodied, but still hale and able to carry on the fight.

As her first action after the building had been secured, Madam Bones had instructed Kingsley Shacklebolt—acting director of the DMLE with Scrimgeour's death—to call in all Aurors and Hit Wizards back to the building to secure it. The message they had managed to dispatch earlier had been received by a certain number of them, but when the new message had been dispatched, Auror personnel began arriving and within the hour the full strength of the Ministry—except those who were out patrolling or involved with other assignments—had been gathered once again.

As her second act, several of the senior Aurors had been dispatched to certain high profile targets within the Wizarding world to determine if Voldemort had set his sights primarily on the Ministry building, or if his plans that day had been far grander. In particular, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and St. Mungo's were all considered to be primary targets, given his patterns from the first war.

Because of his position as the Chief Wizard, Albus was of course central to these discussions. Internally, however, he was concerned. He had been gone from Hogwarts for several hours already, and though nothing as yet had been heard of any other attacks, the longer he was away from the school, the more nervous he became. Hogwarts was an extremely tempting target—an entire generation of England's best and brightest students was in attendance at that very moment, after all, with prominent names such as Longbottom, Bones, Greengrass, Ogden, and Goldstein in residence, along with many others. If Voldemort could somehow gain access to and control over the school, he could hold the students hostage, potentially committing atrocities at his leisure while he demanded the surrender of the Ministry forces. Albus suspected that this had not been his plan that day, but the uncertainty was wearing. It was becoming imperative that he return to the school.

The other problem was Remus and Tonks, who had come to speak to him almost as soon as the fighting had ceased. And with all of the heartache and pain which had come about because of Voldemort's attack that day, the information with which they had returned was apparently not comforting, though Albus had yet to know what it was in specifics. The conversation, though, had chilled him.

"Headmaster," Remus said urgently, the moment Albus had a free moment from the myriad other things with which he was attempting to contend with at that moment.

Knowing he had best hear the man out and send him off to Hogwarts before Madam Bones or anyone else became curious as to his—or perhaps more specifically Tonks'—return, Albus turned to him and motioned him to a relatively private alcove where they could speak without fear of being overheard.

"I assume that since you are back so soon that you've found something?" Albus smiled at the younger man. "To be honest, I would not have been surprised if you had been gone until the summer."

Remus frowned, but he did not say anything about Albus's assertion. "We have found out everything we were able. But Albus—the news is not good."

Sighing, Albus passed a weary hand over his brow. This was not unexpected, regardless of how he had hoped that an answer could be found. The difficulty would be breaking it to Harry.

"And Albus," Remus continued even more ominously, "the information we have found about Horcruxes contradicts much about what you told us. The situation is potentially more serious than you had thought."

Now that was not unexpected—the information they had was likely retranslated several times over to get to them after all. But for their information to be as wrong as Remus was suggesting would mean that the source material was in error.

"Are you certain?"

"Albus, our information cannot be disputed. It comes directly from the original scrolls."

That got Albus's attention. "You've actually seen the original scrolls?"

"Preserved for more than 3500 years. I can't say any more than that at this time. But Albus…" Remus faltered for a moment. "The Horcrux is at once simpler and more horrible than you know. It's fortunate that Voldemort does not know the true nature of the spell, or we might never have even known what he is up to."

Intrigued in spite of the current serious situation, Albus was about to question Remus further when the man put up his hand to forestall any further questioning. "I literally can't say anything more right now. There is an unbreakable vow at work, and an extremely stringent one at that."

Albus eyed him for a moment before he nodded tightly. "In that case, you should gather Miss Tonks and return to Hogwarts immediately. Until we know exactly what we are dealing with, we cannot risk any word of this getting out."

Remus nodded and Albus continued. "Seek out Professor McGonagall. She is not privy to our knowledge of Horcruxes, but she is loyal and knows better than to ask questions. She will arrange for you to rest in a suite of rooms while you wait. I hope to return to Hogwarts in a very short time."

And yet now, although some time had passed since his conversation with Remus, Albus appeared no closer to leaving than he had been before. Madam Bones was supremely confident and had taken command of the situation immediately, but she had preferred his input and attention; of course she was in no way comparable to what Minister Fudge had been like. Madam Bones wanted his input and experience, but did not depend on him to make the decisions in a crisis, as Fudge had often done. At least when he had not been trying to tear Albus's reputation down…

More than an hour after Remus and Tonks had departed, Albus found himself in a conference room near the Minister's office, listening to the reports given by Shacklebolt of what they had discovered thus far. Of course the information was somewhat sketchy as, not only had their communications been severely interrupted, but there was some confusion inherent in such a complex situation.

"Have the Auror teams reported back yet?" Madam Bones asked as meeting began.

"Not yet, Minister," Kingsley replied. "The teams have not been gone long yet, but we should receive word back at any time."

"What of the investigation into this attack? Do we know how the Death Eaters were able to get in the building so easily?"

Kingsley shook his head. "That is unclear. But we are certain of several things. First, they were able to shut down the Floo network within moments of the opening of the attack."

"That suggests someone working on the inside," Moody inserted into the conversation.

"That's what we suspect," was Kingsley's grim reply. "Initial assessment of the Floo system suggests that it was taken down rather than damaged. It should be up again very shortly."

"But is it safe for use?" Albus queried.

"That I cannot guarantee. I have posted two Aurors in the department to watch for anything unusual, and we will continue to rotate guards so that it is monitored at all times of the day. But if there is an insider, it is possible that they have set up another Floo hub and can use it to monitor traffic and pull users from the Floo."

The room was silent for a moment while those gathered within considered the import of Kingsley's report. It was Moody who voiced what was going through everyone's minds.

"Then everyone needs to be told that the Floo is unsafe and should be avoided."

Kingsley nodded. "All Aurors will now portkey into the department at designated locations, and will avoid the use of the Floo system at all times. In addition, the Department of Magical Transportation will investigate the possibility of removing the atrium Floos from the Floo system and directly connecting them to an outside location so that workers may access the building. Those using them will need to get to that location on their own, but at least we'll have a safe and convenient way to get the workers to their jobs."

"And if the Department of Magical Transportation is not trustworthy?" the Minister asked.

"We will monitor their work," Kingsley said with determination.

When no one commented further, Kingsley moved on to the next point. "The second is regarding the use of portkeys. As you all know, portkey travel is restricted into and out of the Ministry building—only a Department Head may authorize a portkey into the building, and even then only to certain commonly designated areas of the building or those locations which are part of their own departments.

"Auror teams are investigating, but it appears that many Death Eaters actually portkeyed into the building and it is certain that many escaped using portkeys. And we all know what happened with the Minister's emergency portkey, not to mention the portkey Director Scrimgeour created to try to access your office."

"Have the Death Eaters managed to figure out a way to bypass portkey wards?" asked Minister Bones.

"That is possible," Kingsley replied, "but it also means that they would have managed to somehow raise portkey wards without the appropriate wardstones, which we also know is not possible. Again, we are investigating—I will report once again when the truth is known."

"Is anything else known?" The Minister's eyes were hard—clearly she was taking this whole attack as a personal affront to her, and one which she would not allow to happen again under her watch.

"Casualties were relatively light, all things considered," Kingsley replied. "There were many injured during the attack, primarily Ministry workers, but fatalities were fewer than I would have expected. There were also only four Aurors killed in the fighting, in addition to Director Scrimgeour, though, again, many were injured. I'm pleased to report that our forces acquitted themselves very well. The Death Eaters hit us during a time when a large portion of our manpower was out. About the only thing they could have done better was to perhaps draw more of our strength away by diversionary attacks."

"And why didn't they?"

"Again, uncertain at this time. We may know more when our teams begin to report in."

Kingsley paused before looking up at Albus with some regret evident upon his face. "Not all of our fatalities were present from the time the attack began. Among the dead, we discovered the men who were escorting Mr. Malfoy back from Hogwarts. Of Malfoy himself there is no sign."

Arthur Weasley, who had been silent up to this point, as was his wont, let out a gasp. "Was the attack staged to free Draco?"

"Unlikely," Moody said with a grunt. "You don't expend this kind of manpower or take this type of risk to free a scrawny, mediocre teenage wizard. The boy is important to Voldemort now that his father is dead, but only as a link to the Malfoy money. No, they may have used the timing of the attack as an opportunity to free him, but there was much more at stake than that."

That Draco Malfoy had escaped was a piece of news that Albus was not looking forward to informing Harry about, nor indeed his two lady friends. Even though there were several suspected Death Eater children still at Hogwarts, Draco's removal had given them a sense that the danger had eased to a certain extent. But Albus knew that Miss Granger in particular would likely not sleep easy until Draco Malfoy was locked away for good.

"Very well," the Minister was saying. "Although it is distasteful so soon after his death, we will need to replace Director Scrimgeour." She paused and fixed each of the men in the room with a stern glare. "Under the circumstances, it would be best for a replacement to be named quickly."

Her glance turned to Alastor who obviously noticed. It was equally apparent that he did not like the suggestion in the least. "Not me, Amelia. You know I don't want to be tied down to a desk."

"I was actually thinking of naming Kingsley to be the Director and for you to take over as Head Auror," was the Minister's reply.

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"I expect you take responsibility so that we can face the Death Eaters effectively," Minister Bones snapped, her nostrils flaring. She was clearly on the verge of losing her temper.

Alastor, however, was not impressed by her displeasure, nor did he respond to her displeasure. "You know I am not suited for a desk job. Give Head Auror to Gawain—he is more than capable of handling it. I prefer to work in the field."

The Minister and the grizzled old Auror faced off, neither giving an inch for several moments before Kingsley interjected, "I believe Gawain would be a good choice," diffidently in the conversation.

"Speak to him immediately," Minister Bones replied shortly. "Now is not the best time to be making changes in the department with what is happening, but I suppose we have no choice." She turned a scathing glare on Alastor. "I presume you will not have any difficulty working with Gawain to make the transition easier."

"Don't take that tone with me, Missy," Alastor growled in response. "You may be the Minister now, but to me you're just a green recruit. I can still take you over my knee and paddle your arse!"

Minister Bones let out a bark of laughter. "You don't really respect anyone in a position of authority, do you Alastor?"

"And don't you forget it." Alastor flashed a grin at her, but in his weathered and beaten face, it appeared almost a grimace. Most of the rest of the room laughed at the exchange, though Arthur appeared to be somewhat scandalized at the way Moody was speaking to the Minister.

"Finally, I have one more thing to discuss," Madam Bones said, turning away from the veteran Auror. "As you are all aware, the Senior Undersecretary position has been vacant since Minister Fudge sacked Umbridge. I suspect he was trying to find someone as effective at being his hatchet man as Delores was, while ensuring that whoever he chose was loyal to him—or at least he had enough dirt on them to keep them in line. Umbridge contacted me soon after I was elected, offering her services, but I disabused her of any notion of working for me."

Albus raised an eyebrow at the knowledge that Umbridge had truly thought she could worm her way back into any position of authority in the Ministry.

"I know," Amelia said with a roll of her eyes, when she saw the reactions of those in the room. "I have no need of a hatchet man—I prefer someone who will work for the betterment of our world and help me run the Ministry while I focus on the prosecution of the war against Voldemort. It has become readily apparent that I have waited too long to appoint a Senior Undersecretary. "

Turning to Arthur Weasley, Amelia continued, "Arthur, I would like you to take over the office of Senior Undersecretary."

His jaw dropping, Arthur gazed at her with astonishment. "Me?" he asked incredulously.

"Arthur," Minister Bones began, "I can't think of anyone I would prefer to take over the position. I know for a fact that you are loyal to the Ministry and to the light, and also that you are a good man, yet sensible. I know you are not suited to be the traditional bulldog that the Senior Undersecretary is usually positioned to be, but as I said before, it is not necessary for you to be so. What I need is a hard-working, honest and upstanding individual to work with me through this crisis."

Minister Bones smiled at him with amusement. "Think of it as turnabout being fair play. It was you that convinced me to take this accursed job. Now I require a similar sacrifice from you."

Albus watched Arthur as he struggled with the notion, knowing that the unassuming man had likely accepted the fact that he would never rise further in the Ministry than his current position. And now the second most powerful position in the Ministry was being offered to him on a silver platter. It had to be a difficult change for the man, for all that Albus was certain that the Minister's choice was inspired.

"If you need me, then I'm yours," Arthur finally replied after a few moments' thought.

"Good," Madam Bones replied. She turned and fixed her attention on Kingsley. "I believe that is all for now, but you will inform me the moment that we get word back from our teams in the field."

"Of course, Minister."

"I believe that is my cue to leave," Albus said while standing.

The Minister peered at Albus in some surprise. "I was hoping to consult further with you, Albus."

"And I shall make myself available as soon as may be, Minister. But I have a school to look after and I fear that Voldemort will use my absence as opportunity to attack. I must return."

Before the Minister could respond, there was a sudden loud and frantic-sounding knocking at the door. Arthur, who was closest to the door, turned to look at Minister Bones, who waved him to answer it. When he did so, a wild-eyed Auror stepped into the room and looked to Kingsley.

"Head Auror, the teams are beginning to report in."

"And what are their reports?" Kingsley demanded.

"No Death Eater activity was found in any of the high risk targets. But we're starting to get reports of attacks all across the country."

"Where?" Kingsley demanded, rising to his feet.

"The Weasleys, Longbottom Manor, the Lovegood residence, the Ambassador's Manor, and several families of Muggleborns were all hit. We're still trying to get more information, but the reports are sketchy with the Floo system still down."

"The Burrow?" Arthur gasped, turning white. He stood said, "With your permission, Minister," while agitatedly wringing his hands in his distress.

"Of course. Kingsley, send a detachment of Aurors with Arthur."

"Yes, Minister," Kingsley said, and he and Arthur strode from the room without waiting for her reply.

"In light of what is happening, I believe it would be best if you were to stay here," the Minister said, turning her attention to Albus.

Frustrated, Albus was about to respond, when she cut him off with pleading eyes. "Take a moment to ensure that nothing has happened at Hogwarts, of course. But I believe we would benefit by having your wisdom and experience readily available."

Though he would have liked to argue, Albus realized she was right, as long as nothing significant had happened at the school. Excusing himself he went to another room and, conjuring his patronus, sent it off to the school to speak with McGonagall. His reply arrived in minutes. It appeared that he would be at the Ministry for at least the next few hours.

While the leaders spoke of appointments and plans, and speculated on how Voldemort had engineered the attack, Sirius Black entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, searching for a particular face.

The Auror department was a mess. Being one of the major targets of the attack, it was no surprise the place was a shambles of destroyed furniture, ruined and blasted walls, and scorch marks which bespoke the deadly intent of the attacking forces. It was also a hive of activity, now that all the teams had been called in to lock down the building, with Aurors running this way and that, support staff busying themselves with cleanup, and all the myriad of other tasks which were required to get it back on its feet. More than once, Sirius had been stopped by suspicious Aurors to patiently explain who he was and what he was doing there. It was frustrating, but he could not blame them for their caution—he would be doing the same thing were he in their position.

But none of this held any true meaning for Sirius. He wended his way through the department, dealing with the various teams as patiently as he could, all the while searching this way and that for the person he had come to find.

When he finally spotted her, it was like a ray of sunshine through all the devastation.

He approached her, noting that she saw him in almost the same instant that he had seen her. He had not seen her since the day of the Death Eater trials—had it really only been three days before?—but regardless, she was almost like a drop of water in an ocean of sand. He could not state just how she had become important to him. He only knew that she was.

"Hey," Hestia said softly as he approached.

"Hey yourself," said Sirius in reply. "I was looking for you."

Her mouth rose in a smile. "It seems to me that you've found me."

"I believe I have."

Sirius did not know even in the confines of his own mind if his statement meant anything more than it seemed on the surface, but he was not insensible to the way her countenance lit up as he said it. He reached out and took her hand, drawing circles on its back as he gazed at her, drinking in the sight of her.

"You're not hurt?" Yes the question was somewhat obvious, but he found he needed the confirmation from her own lips.

"It will take a little more than a few Death Eaters to get me down."

"I guess so," was the only reply Sirius could muster.

At that moment, as Sirius stood in the tattered remains of the Ministry of Magic, he felt that, somewhat incongruously, he had finally come home. He could not even state with a surety, just exactly what he feelings for this woman consisted. However, he did know that being in her presence made him feel like a better man. And given that James had once said exactly the same thing about Lily, Sirius could well imagine where this could take him. For once in his life it was not something to joke about. It was very possible that the woman standing in front of him was his future. He would take great pleasure in discovering whether his intuition was correct.

After a long and dizzying portkey journey, Draco arrived in a heap on the floor of a large room in what he knew to be the Dark Lord's lair. He had been there before, during the Christmas holidays when his father had brought him here to meet the Dark Lord. It looked like the oncoming onslaught of spring had done nothing for the surroundings, as even the light coming in through the many windows appeared grey and lifeless. But Draco supposed that such a circumstance likely fit the Dark Lord rather nicely. The nature of his mission was such that a drab and grey landscape was a minor problem in the grand scheme of things.

Movement caught his attention and all at once Draco became aware of another presence in the room, and the fact startled him, even more when he realized who it was. It was his aunt Bellatrix.

"Draco," she said smoothly in that silky voice of hers, "the Dark Lord wishes to speak with you."

"He's here?" Draco asked, swallowing a lump in his throat. After all, it could not be denied that he had—technically anyway—failed in his mission. Draco knew that the Dark Lord did not punish his followers indiscriminately when they failed, but he was very much afraid that this time would warrant such a punishment in his eyes.

"He is not," Bellatrix replied. "The Dark Lord is out on a mission at present. He will summon you when he returns."

Bellatrix turned and motioned for him to follow her from the room. "I will show you to a room where you may await his return."

Following with alacrity, Draco soon found himself in a long hallway, watching his aunt surreptitiously as she walked. She did not appear to be in any way displeased with him, but in the short time that she had been free of prison Draco had learned never to underestimate the volatility and swiftness of her temper. The woman was mercurial and unpredictable, and he was well aware of the fact that she was creative in her punishment should he do anything that she perceived to be disrespectful or without proper forethought.

"Is my mother here?" Draco asked, more as a means to fill the uncomfortable silence than from any real curiosity.

"She is not," Bellatrix replied without even a glance in his direction. "She is at Malfoy Manor mourning the loss of her husband." Bellatrix paused for a moment before she continued. "You must understand, Draco, that your mother is not made from the same material as your father was. It is a sad fact that she does not possess the stomach to do what needs to be done. Respect her as your mother, but do not look to her for direction. Look only to the Dark Lord for that."

Draco did not reply, but he nodded. He had come to the same conclusion himself, after all—their last conversation when she had urged him to take care was still stuck firmly in his consciousness and he would not forget it.

"However, another problem has arisen," Bellatrix was saying. "With your father dead, the Dark Lord has lost access to the Malfoy fortune. That is a serious setback in our ability to prosecute this war."

"I will go to Gringotts and demand that the vermin return control of the vaults to their rightful owner!"

"Do not be stupid!" Bellatrix snapped, and Draco turned a disbelieving eye toward his aunt. No one—not even his father when displeased or the Dark Lord when he had imparted his instructions—had ever spoken to him in such a matter.

His protest died on his lips, however, as Bellatrix had fixed him with a hard stare of contempt. He held his silence, knowing it would not do to provoke her.

"You are on the run from the Ministry—the goblins would never allow you access, even if you could get to the bank. Besides, if our efforts today succeed, then you will enjoy legal access to your vaults. But until we know the results of today's attacks, you will stay here and wait for the Dark Lord."

Cowed, Draco nodded, while vowing silently to himself that he would rise above Bellatrix, become the Dark Lord's right-hand man as his father had been before. No one would speak to him in such a manner again. A moment later he was left to his own devices and a long and uncomfortable wait for the Dark Lord's pleasure. There was not even a clock in the room to inform him of the passage of time, which almost seemed to magnify his waiting time, making it appear longer and ever more uncomfortable. One thing was certain—once he was finally taken before the Dark Lord, he would not be at his best.

Updated 06/02/2014