Sirius' success was immediately apparent on the battlefield. The dementor's intense aura shrank. Everyone with a Dark Mark clutched their arms or at least flinched. Alastor could actually see the wards linked to the Mark fall as he gained a hazy view of the building's interior. There was no longer need to wait. Albus worked through the secondary wards rapidly, a few ex-Death Eaters widened Rufus' hole in the wall, and Alastor led the charge into the breach. Inside Voldemort's headquarters was utter carnage. Death Eaters were already fighting each other, the large lobby strewn with bodies. While a few followed Sirius' instruction to drop their wands at the aurors' appearance, many of these were quickly murdered by their vengeful fellows' killing curses.
"Surrender when you're outside, you ninnies!" Alastor bellowed.
The scene was so chaotic and multifronted, it was difficult to determine any effective strategy beyond bringing down the most violent offenders one-by-one. Alastor refused to get bogged down in the entrance and let the ringleaders escape via another route, however. "Rufus, take charge here. Use lethal force against anyone casting killing curses. Keep Lord Black and Madam Mulciber on hand outside to triage the ones that try to surrender, but everyone in here gets ID'd and processed, no matter what Black says."
Dumbledore jogged in as he was speaking. He neatly ducked under four simultaneous Avadas aimed at his head and sent some kind of silver stars spinning back towards the culprits that turned into chains on impact. He slashed his wand in a wide arc before him, and a wave of force exploded outwards. Alastor and the other aurors stumbled, but the spell appeared to gain momentum as it traveled and bowled all the Death Eaters over, with the ones in the back slamming forcefully into the walls. Only a few of the quickest and presumably therefore most dangerous managed to conjure effective shields in time. Rufus and the others quickly took advantage of the situation to advance the line.
"Come with me to get Dolohov," Alastor said, and pelted out of the room and towards the dementor-fueled screaming. He dodged more curses as he went, firing stunners, partial transfigurations, and finger-removing jinxes with every footfall. Fortunately, resistance fell away once they escaped the main lobby into the rear hall that should, according to Sirius' descriptions of the place, lead back towards the infirmary. The people here were mostly trying to get past him into the lobby, and most cowered into corners and doorways at the sight of him and Albus. Alastor switched to quicker Oscausi hexes to keep them from effectively joining the fight or aiming strong curses at his back, and kept going.
The smell of blood was the only warning they got before not one but six rabidly violent Inferi leapt out at them from a side hall. One of them was definitely Lord Nott, still just recognizable despite the dreadful burns covering most of his body. His robes were completely gone, exposing blackened skin, red muscle, and even bone in places. Albus took care of the problem with an extremely precise jet of golden flames. The spell struck each Inferius in the center of the chest, burned hot and deep into the flesh, spread outwards, and guttered out again when the head and torso were consumed.
Alastor looked down the hall the Inferi had come, adjusting his magical eye to peer right through walls and other obstructions. As anticipated, he found Dolohov. Unfortunately, the man appeared to be in the middle of yet another Inferi ritual to replace the power Albus had just lost him, three hapless witches kneeling witlessly before him with bloody runes in their shoulders. "That way! Quick! Before he finishes..."
The two of them darted down the curved hall. They were not fast enough. Alastor felt the sickening release of magic as the ritual ended. A second later, he heard Dolohov roaring out "Finite Incantatem" at the top of his lungs. This time, the general countercharm was powerful enough to take down not only the several antiapparition wards barring his retreat, but also half the enchantments on the building itself. Walls cracked. Windows that had sealed over with stone suddenly turned back into glass and shattered. Whole rooms popped back out of existence as their extension charms collapsed, a death sentence for anyone hiding inside them. From the sound of things, part of the roof might have caved in somewhere behind them. They rounded the corner just in time to watch Dolohov and another two masked wizards apparate away. Albus quickly incinerated the three new Inferi as well and replaced the antiapparition ward, but the damage was done, their quarry gone.
Alastor shook his head. They would catch Dolohov and figure out who he had taken with him later. There was plenty still to do here. Albus headed off to find and secure the dementor. Alastor swept his magical vision through the weakened walls and sent patronus messages to his best fighters, directing them to open new fronts in the more volatile-looking areas. More aurors forced their way into the building, enlarging windows into doorframes. More and more of the determined killers were taken down. More and more frightened people made their way out of the building only to surrender. The outcome of the battle was no longer in any doubt.
The infirmary, or what remained of it, was the last area they tried to clear. It had already been damaged by the grenade Rufus and Sirius had sent in, all the furniture and glassware broken and scattered atop three corpses. They realized the insidious danger only when the first auror entered, Millicent Pettigrew. She froze just a few feet inside the doorway, shook her head and started crying and screaming and begging nonsensically. She clawed at her throat and sank to the floor. John Dawlish pulled her out with a charm, sealed the room, and rushed her off to St. Mungo's. They later discovered some kind of noxious potion soaking the walls and floors and poisoning the air in there; Lord Rosier and two others seemed to have died from being splashed with the toxin, not from the relatively minor wounds of the grenade.
Other than Dolohov and his two companions, not a single enemy witch or wizard escaped, yet it was hard to feel victorious. The body count was well over one hundred now, making this the single bloodiest day in the history of wizarding Britain - for wizards, not muggles, obviously. Most of the dead weren't branded with the Dark Mark, though Alastor had no doubt they were indeed Voldemort supporters for the most part, not just hostages. Perhaps it was the dementor exposure, but the ones who surrendered just looked so... tired. Not afraid, not angry, not conniving, just relieved it was over one way or another. Watching his auror teams herd them up all unresisting to transport to the Ministry for processing did not feel like justice. He was struck by how young some of them were, barely out of Hogwarts but with faces he didn't recognize because Sirius had never discovered their names. Mostly, he could tell that was because these youth were too poor to travel in the same circles as Sirius did. Funny, how so many of these people had remained anonymous to the Order's and the Ministry's investigations until the end, even though Sirius had noted almost a year ago that the majority of the rank-and-file Death Eaters at headquarters appeared to be lower class. It was as one of Narcissa Malfoy's latest propaganda pamphlets had said: a great many ordinary witches and wizards really were invisible to their own government except for when they were being punished.
Alastor felt even worse when Euphemia and young James Potter came storming up to him at the end of it.
"What happened to Sirius?!" Euphemia shouted.
"He isn't here?" Albus asked, emerging from the broken enemy stronghold at last, where he had been investigating Lord Voldemort's personal quarters and library, no doubt confiscating a few books he deemed too dangerous to allow anyone else to see.
"He collapsed in that field over there, and then his family's house elf showed up and took him away," James said, waving a hand generally eastward. "We tried to stop it, but that slimeball Avery got in the way. And Mum says Sirius has been working for you this whole damn year!"
Alastor scrabbled in his pocket for his portrait, while Albus said thoughtfully, "I know you may be reluctant to believe this, but Grimmauld Place likely is the safest place for Sirius at the moment. He was instrumental to the battle today and will be a target of any of Lord Voldemort's supporters still at large. Moreover, he will require someone with expertise to help him recover from the magic he performed for -"
Alastor swore loudly, staring at his portrait. The little miniature version of himself was in it, but it was inert. That could only mean one thing: someone had destroyed the active version of the portrait series. All of them would have to be reanimated in order to function properly again. A quick glance around the courtyard was enough to confirm his suspicions as to who might have done it. Lord Black was gone. He had been with Sirius the last time the lad had used the portrait to communicate, back at Grimmauld Place. He had probably ordered his house elf to confiscate his son's watch at the earliest opportunity while Sirius was indisposed with whatever aftereffects he was experiencing from the ritual. And then he, or perhaps Walburga Black, had destroyed the portrait the first time Alastor's painted self had checked in.
Until and unless Sirius reached out to them again by other means, they had no way of knowing how he fared. He showed the portrait to Albus. "Still think Grimmauld is the best place for him?" he asked.
Albus frowned, but didn't change his mind. "Alastor... I had no reason to believe Sirius would not be in perfect physical health when he finally finished his task. Clearly, if his father sent the house elf to retrieve him so quickly, the Blacks knew better. Like it or not, they know what he needs right now. We don't."
"I don't like it," Alastor said. He sighed. "But I suppose there's nothing to do about it now, either."
"What's happened to him?" Euphemia repeated, her voice now a strained whisper. Her son reached to take her hand, his face pale with worry.
Albus shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry, Euphemia... I can't tell you." Because they didn't know. Alastor resolved to talk more to Barty about it the first chance he got. He had said the ritual would be dangerous to the caster, even if he hadn't gone into details during their last hurried conference.
Harold Minchum: You-Know-Who Defeated!
Following a truly chaotic day, including the first dementor attack of the war (see article on A2), another egregious breach of the Statute of Secrecy, and a massive military operation undertaken by Ministry aurors as well as civilian volunteers, Minister Minchum delivered remarks in a late-night press conference held in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic that will surely define his tenure as Minister. Full speech follows:
"Good evening. Tonight, I can report to the people of Wizarding Britain and to the world that the self-styled Dark Lord Voldemort, a terrorist who is responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent men, women, and children, magical and mundane alike, is dead. He struck fear into the hearts of many; some thought he could not be defeated, that his magical might and his audacious and brutal tactics on the battlefield could not be overcome. Today we have learned the truth: that evil shall never triumph over a Wizarding Britain that is determined to resist it.
"It was nearly ten years ago that this terrorist first came to our streets and began to spread his insidious propaganda. He told lies to various peoples, preying on hopes and fears to serve his own power-hungry ambitions. He fed on the cracks in our society to swell the ranks of his Death Eaters, fed on our own disunity until these cracks opened wide enough for him to foment an open war. He sought to divide and so to conquer. His strategies were evil, based in manipulating the hearts and familial ties of the politically powerful while cowing the common man with displays of horrifying violence.
"I would like to claim his defeat today as the work of myself and my leadership alone, but as we all know, this victory could not have been without the work of many. I speak of course of our aurors, who have worked bravely and tirelessly for years against this foe. I speak also of brave civilians who chose not to stand idly by when they saw means to contribute. Some of you will already have heard the rumors, and I will confirm some of them now: the death of You-Know-Who on this day was orchestrated not by myself nor anyone else in the Ministry, but rather by the Ancient and Noble House of Black. House Black discovered the means to defeat You-Know-Who and brought this information to our Head Auror Alastor Moody. Auror Moody then with my approval coordinated with House Black, Albus Dumbledore, and other civilian volunteers to act on this information immediately. You-Know-Who himself was killed in the early hours of the afternoon by operatives within his own Death Eaters that House Black was able to influence. The united Ministry and civilian militia force then stormed the Death Eaters' headquarters later in the evening, and that terrorist organization is no more. After so much pain and death with seemingly so little consequences for the perpetrators, I can finally say today that justice has been done. As your Minister for Magic, I vow that justice will continue.
"Our victory today has come through achieving a new unity. Throughout this conflict, our Ministry has been battered and yet remained strong at its core. Our aurors in the past days forged new alliances to gain the advantage they needed to get the job done. Their steadfastness has paid off, and I am the first to thank them, as I thank every witch and wizard who stood and fought in the battle today. As I thank everyone who has given their all in the weeks, months, and years of this struggle.
"Our work is not over. Not every Death Eater was at the battle today. At the very least, it is known that Antonin Dolohov and the werewolf Fenrir Greyback remain at large and dangerous, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will be issuing updated warrants in the next week as the dead continue to be identified and the detained suspected Death Eaters are interrogated. I urge our civilians to be hopeful, but to remain cautious as the Ministry works to restore the peace and order we have been fighting for. Peace is coming, at last. Thank you."
Severus Snape's eyes flicked greedily to the next headline, even as he put together his and Mrs. Culpepper's breakfast with his wand hand. He almost growled in frustration as he read. Everything apart from the Minister's vague, too-brief, self-congratulatory speech was speculative. There was another, short article collecting statements from other people, including Albus Dumbledore, an anonymous civilian witness at the battle, and a Black family spokesperson to confirm that yes, really, Voldemort was definitely dead, but it contained nothing else of import. The article on the dementor attack at Gringotts was all over the place, with contradictory and wildly unbelievable claims from various eyewitnesses. Not that victims of dementor attacks were expected to be particularly reliable, he allowed. Still,
"They say it was down in the vaults. I never saw it, but I could feel it even in the lobby, and the poor Dagworths that were ahead of us in line, well they just went to pieces, crying and muttering about their niece Olivia, the one that the Death Eaters killed last year..."
"It had the cloak and skeletal hands of the usual Azkaban dementors like you see in the papers covering the Death Eater trials, but it had its hood thrown back to show its horrid, desiccated face, and it was lit with some kind of silver magic..."
"I watched it EAT my cousin's patronus! No, really, she can cast a corporeal patronus! Dolphin-shaped! It was the worst thing I'd ever seen, thank Merlin it was moving away from us already..."
Half the testimonies just didn't sound like a dementor at all. No one at the Ministry had bothered to explain yet what the bloody hell that had been about, except for a brief statement at the end of the article that the dementor was in custody and that now the initial search-and-rescue operation was done, the Ministry had set up two relief stations at either end of Diagon Alley to distribute free chocolate. Each station also held a mediwitch from St. Mungo's to evaluate anyone who might need formal mind healing. The rest of the paper was utter garbage, just gossip about the Blacks and commentary about the Minister's speech from people who didn't actually know anything. He folded the paper up and stuck it back in his robes irritably. He'd probably have to go talk to Lily and the Potters to learn anything real. He was certain they had been involved in whatever went down yesterday; Lily hadn't come home last night, just sent a patronus charm to let him know she was alright and would be staying at the Potters. He'd go over there soon, but not right away. He had promised Mrs. Culpepper to stay for breakfast today, and he kept his promises, even if she wouldn't remember it.
The scuff of shuffling, slippered feet announced the old lady's arrival from the bedroom at last. He waved both plates of breakfast over the table, and she greeted him with a toothless grin. "Good morning, sweetums! What a treat to get to see you so early!"
"Good morning, Mrs. Culpepper," he said.
She frowned and swatted his arm gently. "Is that any way to talk to your Granny?"
He shook his head with a slight grin but didn't argue the point. She got confused and upset when he did. He poured two cups of tea. "One lump or two?"
"Two, naturally. You don't get as old as me by depriving yourself, laddy."
They went through the usual breakfast ritual. She told him a few of her usual anecdotes, and he pretended both to listen and that he had never heard them before. He washed up quickly at the end of the meal and allowed her to kiss his cheek and press a hand-knitted scarf into his hands before he left. He had an hour he could spend information-gathering at the Potters before he was expected at work.
He came in through the kitchen door. "Lily?" he called. "Lily, are you -" she flew around the corner and collided with him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He hugged her back a moment before asking quietly, "Are you alright? I read the announcement in the paper this morning. What happened?"
"It's true," she said thickly. "He's really dead. I was at the battle, but I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
She shifted her arms and pressed her face into his shoulder. "There were so many dead, Sev. A dozen of ours I think, this time, but Death Eaters were just slaughtering each other. I wasn't on the front lines, only helping hold the wards from the back, but... God, Sev, you can't imagine what it was like. I felt sorry for the people inside there. It was like... like they were conscripts being butchered by their own officers. All I could think was how grateful I was you weren't there."
Severus shivered. He understood exactly what she meant. He probably would have been there, if things had gone differently between him and Black last year. And perhaps now he might be amongst the dead. He smoothed her hair. "I'm here, Lily. You don't have to worry about that."
"I know. It's just..."
"What?"
"Sirius was there. I saw him. He was... he's changed so much, Sev."
"You talked to him?" He was never keen to discuss Black, but from her tone, it sounded like his was not an insignificant presence at the battle. Maybe he had been part of the Black insider operation Minchum had mentioned?
She shook her head. "No, never even got close to him. James and the others did, briefly." She shuddered. "His eyes, Sev, they looked so cold. He had dried blood all over his face and neck, caking his hair... I mean, it looked like he'd wiped some of it off, but you could still see what it was, even from a distance, and he just didn't care, like he forgot it was even there!"
Severus shuddered involuntarily. Sirius Black with someone else's blood dripping around his lips was definitely an image he could have done without.
"I never realized how frightening he could be, not even that last time he hurt you. And I'm so, so sorry about that, Sev. I was an awful friend. And- and I want to hate him with you again, now I've seen it! But I can't do that either! I know the Minister said it was House Black that provided the crucial information, but it wasn't really. It was all Sirius, always Sirius. He was the one on the inside who killed You-Know-Who, and he's been sending Dumbledore information for months. Ever since the Death Eaters kidnapped him again..."
Severus swayed slightly as she babbled, explaining how, actually, the Order had rescued Sirius from the Death Eaters once back in November only to lose him again in the strange attack on the Potters' (not so empty) home on Christmas Day. She did not know the whole story, far from it, but it was clear Sirius had been part of some great working yesterday that had been crucial to the victory, somehow, and that Sirius himself was still in trouble. No one knew where he was but presumed he was in the hands of his untrustworthy family. Lily had been up all night with the Potters, Lupin, Pettigrew, and a few other concerned Order members trying to figure out what to do to help the savior of the wizarding world who was possibly languishing under torture, while the actual Order leadership seemed willing to abandon him.
It was a lot to take in.
Especially since Severus was very, very used to hating Sirius Black with a passion. He was not so unreasonable as to fail to be grateful to Sirius in general for killing Voldemort and ending the war, if he really had done everything Lily thought he had, but... Merlin, it was fair insufferable for egostistical, bullying Black to be hailed as a hero.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be dumping all this on you. I know you don't want to be involved, especially when it comes to Sirius. I just -"
"It's okay, Lily. War's almost over, and all that, right? Besides, half of this will be in the paper tomorrow. There's too many witnesses for the Ministry to keep it hushed up. I'm better off knowing than not knowing."
She straightened up, smiling at him through her tears. "Thanks, Sev, for listening... I should go back to the others. We still don't have a plan. You don't have to stay, though..."
He shook his head slightly. "What kind of man-of-honor would I be if I let you or your groom go do something brave yet unbelievably stupid less than a month before your wedding?"
She laughed and wiped her eyes.
"I bet it's all Gryffindors in there, isn't it?"
"Well...Maybe."
"I won't be part of any action, but I'm not leaving you, Lily."
"I have the updated report from St. Mungo's. I'm afraid Auror Millicent Pettigrew died in the early hours of the morning. The healers were unable to devise an antidote to the poison she was exposed to. They have sent samples off to several specialty potions researchers for further study in case of additional exposures. The healers do expect the other aurors and hit wizards admitted yesterday to pull through, although Gideon Prewitt and Anathema Applesby remain in critical condition. Another five of the suspected terrorists also died overnight from curse damage. All but one of the other suspects should be ready to transfer back to the Ministry holding cells today."
Undersecretary Millicent Bagnold delivered her report succinctly and with utter calm, which Alastor appreciated. Just being in this meeting made him jumpy, there was so much real work left to do. He had already given his report on the final arrest tallies; he was stuck here because Minister Minchum had asked him to stay for the rest of it.
"Did we have an estimate on the casualties from the dementor attack?" Minchum asked.
Besides the six people - Death Eaters or hostages - the thing Kissed before Albus got to it, Alastor thought darkly.
"Yes. There were fifty-three witches and wizards removed from Gringotts in catatonic condition yesterday. Thirty-six of the patients have shown sufficient improvement they should make a full recovery. Another twelve have at least regained some mobility and speech but will likely remain in St. Mungo's for some months, with uncertain prognosis for the extent of their recovery."
Ah yes. They would recover, sort of. They would recover, but it was still a disaster that would have ripple effects for months or years to come as the mind-injured people returned to civilian life. There was a reason life expectancy for Azkaban prisoners was so short. Once freed, the rates of suicide, alcoholism, potions addiction, and domestic abuse were far higher in survivors of Azkaban than any other wizarding prison in the world. At least the duration of exposure to the magically-amplified dementor had been short yesterday.
"The other five remain severely demented. Three of them were Ministry employees, actually, from the Department of Revenues. The mind healers suspect they may have been exposed to the Imperius curse too, which would explain their severe reactions to the dementor."
"I had to send four of mine to St. Mungo's when they started going nuts just holding the muggle-repelling charms around the dementor's path," Cornelius Fudge, Head of the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, commented anxiously. "Is there a chance they could have been Imperiused too?"
"Probably," Barty Crouch said. "Alastor's intelligence made it clear that infiltration of the Ministry via the curse was a major part of their strategy in recent weeks, and Rookwood confirmed that under Veritaserum this morning. He's still being questioned as we speak; I'm hoping to obtain a list of everyone he cursed at least."
Minchum rubbed his temples. "Exactly how bad of a problem is this?"
"Bad, but manageable," Alastor grunted. "According to Sirius' information, most of the curses on Ministry workers were designed for information gathering, not to disrupt normal operations. The exception would be curses placed within the last week, some of which would have been priming their targets to assassinate members of the DMLE."
"Which is why my department is still on lockdown," Barty supplied.
"A lot if not all of the curses will be dropping soon, if they haven't already. Any perpetrators we haven't already caught will be trying to hide the evidence, and the ones we have caught will be going to Azkaban soon enough, where they won't be able to sustain their control."
"Very well, I've no choice but to leave it to you anyway. What of the muggles, Cornelius?"
"There were two dozen in Regents Park when the dementor surfaced there that are receiving care at St. Mungo's before they can be safely obliviated. It's impossible to gauge how many might have suffered milder exposure before we got the muggle-repelling charms up, but I'm told the new muggle prime minister is having chocolate sent to every household we emptied, just in case. She's masking it as an initiative from the Queen to apologize for the disruption and trauma or some such. Not sure of the details. I've also reached out to the muggle minister about obtaining another load of their chocolate for the relief tents and to resupply St. Mungo's."
"Another load?" Bagnold asked.
Fudge shrugged. "As soon as I told her the treatment for dementor exposure, the muggle minister was calling up some muggle candy company to figure out their shipping schedule. Then she asked me to arrange for a lorry full of chocolate to have a road accident so we could confiscate the chocolate. She got half, we got half. I sent most of ours to the goblins to use, though. We need more. Even if I pay for it this time, it's cheaper than cleaning out all our sweet shops and restaurants. Not as tasty as Honeydukes, of course, but beggars can't be choosers."
"Carry on, then. Millicent, have we heard from the goblin nation about when Gringotts might reopen?"
"They don't have a timeline. They were refusing offers of assistance except for the chocolate at first, but apparently it's bad enough, they're open to receiving a mind healer as a consultant..."
Alastor rolled his eyes. Pride would be the end of the goblins, eventually.
"Anything else pressing on your end, Cornelius?" Minchum asked.
"Er, no, I don't think so."
"Then you may go. You too, Millicent. Thank you for joining us." Fudge frowned slightly but nodded. They waited silently for him and the undersecretary to leave. As soon as the door shut behind them, Minchum looked at Alastor. "Okay, what the hell are the Blacks doing?"
Alastor exhaled slowly. "I don't know. Sirius hasn't made contact. Both Albus and I have sent him patronus messages, but there's been no response. The house wards are sealed against floo and owls. I've lost any other means of contact."
"It would seem you have been in touch with them more recently than Alastor, Minister," Barty said with a raised eyebrow. "Judging by your speech. Did you have to praise them quite so much?"
Minchum laughed sourly and reached into a drawer. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment and passed it across the desk. "Tell me what else I should have said, Barty. Their house elf delivered this to me while the battle was still ongoing."
Barty snatched the letter up and read it quickly. He grimaced. "That did put you in a tight spot, yes." He glanced at Alastor. "Basically just lays out the facts of what Sirius did yesterday and lists all the families that agreed to ally with House Black after they heard about it, and the intent to interview with the Prophet about it. And suggestions for how the Minister should handle this information."
"It was share the victory with Lord Black or lose it to him," Minchum said sardonically.
Alastor shrugged. He cared less about who got the credit for ending the war than actually ending the war and making sure as many people as possible survived it, Sirius included.
"Has Heir Black truly reconciled with his family?" Minchum asked.
Alastor barked a laugh. "Hardly. He went home out of desperation, not loyalty. And Orion immediately screwed him over. I don't even know if the kid is alive."
"He's alive," Barty said. Alastor looked up sharply. He hadn't had a chance yet to ask Barty what exactly he knew about the Ritual of the Feast of Innocents.
"How can you be sure?" Minchum asked.
"Because if he weren't, Lord Black would make sure his martyrdom was being shouted on every corner. That would have been the front page story, not your speech."
"Could be the front page tomorrow," Alastor suggested grimly.
Barty shook his head. "No, Lord Orion wouldn't wait to announce his son's death. He couldn't, not with their fraught relationship so publicly known. It would split his alliance if some of them decided he had deliberately killed his heir, when they are well aware of Sirius' actions yesterday and the position he held in the Death Eaters. The only way Orion could possibly get away with killing Sirius would have been to make it happen last night after the battle, since you said there were plenty of witnesses to Sirius' collapse. The greatest risk to Sirius would have been in the hours immediately following the Ritual's conclusion. Indeed, if when the Blacks recovered him Sirius looked too ill to recover quickly, it might have been in Lord Orion's best interests politically to go ahead and kill him so he could believably attribute the death to aftereffects of the Ritual. Since we've heard nothing on the subject, Sirius is alive and will most likely stay that way."
The weight on Alastor's chest lifted slightly.
"Alright, good... if Sirius is still an independent agent, will he still work with us? I'd like to send as many Death Eaters to Azkaban as I can, not just the ones House Black disfavors."
"I said Sirius was alive, not that he was independent," Barty answered. "You can bet your estate that Lord Orion is hoping to keep him and his testimony under family control."
"If we can get him out of that damned house, will he work with us?"
"How are you planning on doing that, exactly? The wards on the Black townhouse at Grimmauld Place are much stronger than the ones on my manor were, or the ones on Cygnus Black's manor were, for that matter. It's their oldest holding in the British Isles, though they've reconstructed the actual edifice multiple times to keep up with the fashions. Anyway, the family has been adding to the ground wards for eleven hundred years."
Minchum threw up his hands. "I don't know! A friend with a foot in the door? An Order of Merlin ceremony and a gala in his honor? What do you think will work? I need information here!"
"Minister, you're asking questions we don't know the answers to," Alastor snapped. "I can tell you the names of every Death Eater Sirius ever told me, but I don't know which of the families mentioned in that letter you have there are loyal to Orion or loyal to Sirius. I don't know if and when Sirius will be permitted out of that house, or whether he will figure out a way to escape under his own power. Assuming Sirius recovers physically, I don't know what his mental state is going to be after what happened to him. If we can get him away from his family, then I expect he probably would be inclined to testify about what he witnessed amongst the Death Eaters. That was his whole goal when he decided to join the Death Eaters anyway."
"But you can't guarantee that now, Alastor. Practitioners of that Ritual have survived with dramatic changes in personality after being linked to a dementor in such a way. He may be unable to speak of it. Or unwilling." Alastor shuddered. Barty spared him a look that was possibly supposed to be sympathetic. "For now, Harold, we need time," Barty said firmly. "I think we can be confident Lord Orion will not allow his allies to start any new violence anytime soon, and we have to work with that. We will focus on those Death Eaters House Black is not protecting. Alastor still has some fugitives to track down and arrest, and the faster he manages it, the better for the Ministry. I suggest that of the three of us, you are best placed to sound out House Black and its allies and figure out where exactly the balance of power now lies - with Orion or with his son. And if needed, how to shift that balance."
Author's note: 50 good guys died at the Battle of Hogwarts in canon, which I'm inclined to think was probably deadlier than this one was, since it was all of Voldie's forces against outnumbered defenders with a large proportion of literal children. There was never an official count published of the Death Eater dead at the Battle of Hogwarts, at least not that I could find, but I'd guestimate it had to be around a hundred or so in the end. Regardless, the pure-wizard battles in canon seem to be mostly much, much smaller than that, with most of the deaths from the war happening as a continuous trickle of assassinations, not major confrontations. A hundred dead witches and wizards in one day would therefore be a hugely high number. There were almost definitely deadlier battles in Grindelwald's war, but as far as I can tell, those were pretty much all on the continent, not in Britain.
Dumbledore is a tank when he doesn't have any magical peers to go up against, of course, but he's not infallible by any means.
Thanks for your patience, and for the reviews. Hopefully, I'll manage to get back to regular Saturday updates from here until the end.