Reclamation
The goblins were becoming more frustrated with each hour that passed them by, with little success to show for their efforts.
Once more, they had arrived close to where Malfoy Manor was located, had drawn yet more blood from Draco with the addition of some of his magic into one of their odd crystals, and set to work upon placing the headgear back on their companion's head.
Morgana had been watching their every move, listening carefully to every unintelligible word they spoke, and looked on as they did their utmost to find the elusive property they sought.
Soon enough, the sun would rise again, and they would leave, having failed for another night to breach the protections.
What she found to be rather strange was that neither the blood nor the magic they had taken from Draco had been put to much use. If anything, it only seemed to serve them as an anchor of sorts, guiding them towards what they were looking for rather than being a key they were using to to pick an intricate lock.
It was a fascinating revelation to observe, and one Morgana knew was significant in its own way. It meant that they could indeed use their own magic to work their way through the protections of wizards, or so was the evident theory.
They were yet to do so here, but the goblins did not seem disheartened by their lack of results.
If anything, when they were packing their things away, they were rather animated, talking amiably amongst themselves as they all looked in the same direction.
Thus far, there was nothing to see, but the goblins seemed content and convinced that they were indeed making progress, even if there was little to show for it.
"Did they find it?" Draco asked sleepily as they were deposited outside the gates of the castle for the second time.
"No, but I think they are getting close. In perhaps another day or so, they will."
The blond nodded before entering the Hogwarts grounds and Morgana vanished without preamble.
Tonight, he would venture alone with the goblins, but she was satisfied with what she had learned about the little creatures who would one day be an enemy to her and her husband.
They were indeed dangerous in their own unique way, though not as she'd expected.
The crystals they wielded were an interesting commodity, but no convenient alternative for a wand.
If they could find someone willing to provide them with such, their intentions might just prove to be a little more concerning. Whether they had or would obtain them remained to be seen, though Morgana nor Harry would be willing to take anything for granted.
The goblins back home believed they would be able to take Britain for themselves, had been preparing to do so for several years, and such, would have more than one plan in the works to do so.
For the most part, they would be an unknown foe, but what she had learned from them these past two nights of observing them was already invaluable; a first step to ensuring they would not be successful in their endeavours.
(Break)
"You sent for me, my lord?" Augustus asked as he entered the parlour of Malfoy Manor.
He had been taken aback by the state of the home, and had drawn his wand upon seeing the damage, suspecting that an attack had taken place here. Evidently, it hadn't, but much of the property was left in a state of disarray.
For his part, Augustus had been occupied with overseeing the running of the Ministry of Magic.
Despite Yaxley officially being the Minister, there was much to do to ensure it continued to function as expected and equally ensuring that those employed were complying with the new regime.
The Ministry was the heart and soul of magical Britain after all and much relied on his intervention.
"I did," the Dark Lord murmured. "I need to know if you have managed to access the Department of Mysteries."
Augustus shook his head.
"I have not prioritised it, my lord," he replied honestly. "There are many within the Ministry that are not our own people, skilled witches and wizards that must be watched but cannot be replaced."
"Of course," the Dark Lord conceded, "but I would have you delegate your current efforts and shift your attention to doing so."
"Might I ask why, my lord?"
The man frowned at him.
"The prophecy, Augustus. If there is a way of even finding a record of what it contains, I would have it."
Augustus was not certain if such records existed, but he had learned long ago that it was better to oblige the Dark lord and his requests rather than attempt to convince him otherwise.
Only a fool would do so, and Augustus Rookwood was anything but.
"Then I will do as you ask, my lord," he complied, offering his master a bow before taking his leave of the room and the manor shortly after.
In truth, he was relieved.
He had no desire to find himself in the company of the other Death Eaters, many of whom having been killed.
Wormtail…Bellatrix…Lucius…Greyback
They had been considered his most loyal, and all were dead leaving only a few the Dark Lord could truly rely upon.
Augustus was one of them, but he was not like the others.
He did not follow blindly, nor did he remain ignorant of the Dark lord's shortcomings. Even now, despite not admitting so, the man was deeply concerned with how the tide of the war had shifted against them, fearful even.
Augustus was not so.
He had accepted he would die in Azkaban at the conclusion of the first conflict, and his existence now was little more than a reprieve from that fate.
He was not foolish enough to be killed in battle, but he was equally not foolish enough to deny the man who'd granted his freedom his request.
Perhaps the Dark Lord would find a way to victory, but Augustus had his doubts.
In truth, he always had, even at the height of his powers some twenty years prior.
All Dark Lords, no matter how powerful they believed themselves to be, come and go as time passes by, and Augustus had not become a follower to see an eventual, impossible victory.
No, he merely enjoyed the chaos the war brought.
It helped prevent his own brilliant mind from becoming stagnant.
Even as an Unspeakable, working with the mysteries of the magical world, he'd grown bored and restless, but when the Dark Lord had come along, he'd brought with him a sense of excitement that was incomparable to anything else.
The man was unpredictable, chaotic, and it kept Augustus occupied with new things to undertake almost every day.
Such a thing was not to last however, and one day, despite his best efforts, Lord Voldemort would perish, just as those that came before him had.
Until then, Augustus would entertain the man's fancies before he was inevitably returned to Azkaban to see out his final years in a state that his mind could not function well enough for the boredom to bother him.
Frowning at the perception of his own fate, he snorted humourlessly to himself as he arrived at the door that would lead him to his former place of work.
Already, he knew he would not be able to breach it.
He was indeed a brilliant wizard, but no less than a dozen others just as brilliant had ensured that none could hope to enter when the department had been locked away from the outside world.
No, it would remain dormant until such a time that there was peace once more.
Nonetheless, he drew his wand and appeared as though he was attempting to do as he was bid, for all the good it would do.
(Break)
He'd barely torn his eyes away from the parchment since the previous night, watching and noting down each and every person that entered the Ministry of Magic.
For the most part, it was the workers in the various departments merely carrying out their duties in a bid to not provoke the ire of the Dark lord, but amongst them were others, there to police the workers.
Not many were familiar to Harry, but they were easily spotted by their lack of movement throughout the day whilst they would stand vigil at their posts.
It made it easier for him to identify who to watch out for during their next excursion there.
There was one name, however, that was not so trivial; the very man his godfather had mentioned to him.
Augustus Rookwood.
The man had been an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries before he'd been arrested at the conclusion of the first war, and one who should not be taken lightly.
Harry would not make such an error, but he did not intend of giving himself away until Rookwood was neutralised.
"You're still looking at it?" Morgana asked as she returned from her second night with the goblins, and Harry frowned as he peered out of the window.
Having been so focused on his own vigil, he'd not realised how much time had passed.
He nodded tiredly.
"Very little of concern, except for him," he explained, pointing to to dot situated on the fourth floor of the Ministry.
"Rookwood."
"A dangerous man," Harry murmured. "He must die before we do anything else within the building."
"Then he will," Morgana yawned, "but if we are going there tonight, we must rest. Have you informed Bones?"
"I sent her a message. She will be ready for when we give her the signal."
"Then we will be one step closer to ending this."
"And one step closer to home," Harry added with a fond smile.
(Break)
As had become the norm when he arrived at The Hog's Head, Aberforth rolled his eyes at his brother and placed a tankard of honeyed mead on the bar before busying himself with polishing a glass with a filthy rag in a bid to ignore Albus.
Taking sip of the brew, the Headmaster released a deep sigh.
It would take a little time for Aberforth to engage him in conversation, and Albus lost himself in thought, pondering all that had happened in the weeks gone by.
The war, although quiet for the most part, was once more in full swing.
Tom no longer had the numbers to send his forces to patrol for any wayward muggleborns who had not arrived at the Ministry to register, but it was certainly not safe for those who had made it to Hogwarts to leave the safety of the forest.
It wouldn't be so until Tom was no longer a threat and judging by how quickly things were happening pertaining to the war itself, Albus suspected that might just be sooner rather than later.
With Bellatrix, Pettigrew, and Lucius gone, Tom's support was sorely lacking, but their loss did not make him any less dangerous. If anything, it made him more so.
The net around the Dark Lord was closing tightly, and the tighter it became, the more desperate he would become.
Unfortunately, his former student would not go quietly into the night, would not concede defeat until victory was torn from his grasp, and that would only occur when he was dead.
Albus released a deep sigh before taking another sip of his drink.
There had been so much senseless violence, so much misery inflicted onto others, and for what?
Tom had hoped to secure power, a lasting legacy for himself, and ultimately, he would fail, leaving only a bleak moment in the history of magical Britain that would be forgotten in only a few generations or so.
"Such a waste," Albus murmured.
It was the way of all wars.
Often, all that was left to show for such conflict was a long list of those who had fallen in the midst of the fighting, names that were little more than a number to those who had started the war, or worse yet, those who had been sent to die for a cause they likely understood little of.
Albus did not understand such things.
He understand war well enough, just not what could motivate someone to start one.
"Bloody hell, if you're going to mope like that, you can bugger off," Aberforth huffed. "You make my regulars seem happy."
Albus shook his head.
"Melancholy is the curse of thoughtful men," he replied. "We find ourselves pondering better days, the very worst of them, and even the hope of further better ones to come."
"You know, you have quite the way of depressing people, Albie," Aberforth grumbled as he poured himself a measure of Firewhiskey. "You're alive and you're breathing. From what I can see, you're still in good health for an old bastard. Why plague yourself with the fate of others? It will only bring you misery. You can't save everyone, brother, and there are those that would not wish for you to try."
There had been times Albus had wished he was not so insightful, that he could ignore the world around him in favour of simplicity over the complexity of existing.
He had managed for some time before he'd confronted Gellert, but it had come to the point that he could no longer ignore the misery of others.
"If only it was so easy."
Aberforth cursed under his breath and poured himself another drink.
"It's going to be one of those days," he grumbled.
Perhaps it would be, but Albus could not deny that despite the war seemingly reaching its final stages, he was concerned. The fated meeting between Tom and Harry was not decided, and though Albus had faith in the latter, he would never make the mistake of underestimating the Dark Lord.
Tonight itself would be a pivotal moment in the conflict.
Harry was intent on taking the Ministry of Magic, and with the goblins still working on locating Malfoy Manor, a meeting between the two would be imminent.
(Break)
Although she wouldn't deny that Harry Potter had been the change they'd needed to shift the tide of the war in their favour, Amelia had never needed to put so much faith in another.
She was the Head of the Department of Magical law Enforcement, and she'd never envisioned she would find herself in such a position.
Potter had undoubtedly proven himself, and although she didn't doubt the young man's ability to succeed in his endeavour to retake the Ministry of Magic, she was apprehensive about the undertaking.
So many things go wrong, but Potter was right.
Now was the time to do so, and as she waited for the Aurors to gather in the property belonging to Amos Diggory, she took a few moments to brace herself for what was to come.
Potter's task was merely to to breach the protections from within, to grant them access so that they could secure the building, and Amelia was under no illusion that it would not be done without bloodshed.
Dozens of Death Eaters would be waiting for them, and violence would inevitably ensue.
Even if their foes no longer had such faith in their master, they would fight for their very lives this night.
"They're here, Amelia," Rufus announced as he stuck his head around the door to the parlour.
With a nod, she took her leave of the room, standing tall as she made her way into the grounds to be greeted by the sight of her subordinates, each of them looking to her to lead them against Riddle's forces that occupied the Ministry.
Aemlia was proud of each of them.
For the better part of a year, they had stuck by her, had continued their work to keep the citizens of magical Britain and beyond safe when it could only have been tempting to quit.
There seemed to be little hope, and yet, they'd remained more loyal to her than she could ever have hoped.
Gracing them with a smile, she offered them a nod of respect.
Each would be suitably rewarded when the war was done, but first, it needed to be ended, and that began tonight.
"You already know what we must do," she spoke gravely. "We must be ready to act, to take the Ministry back from the Dark Lord. I cannot divulge much to you, but we will have all the help we have been able to gather to do so, and it has already begun. The moment we receive the signal, we will take our leave of this place. You have stuck by me until now, and I only ask you do it once more, that you are able to make a final push to be rid of the Dark lord. He might not perish tonight, but I am assured his days are numbered. Tonight, is it about striking a heavy blow against him. If we succeed, we take back our home."
"And if we fail?" one of the Aurors asked.
Amelia shook her head.
"Failure is not an option, not tonight, and I have every faith in all of you that we will do what is needed. By the time the morning comes, the Ministry will be ours, and we can begin repairing the damage the Dark lord has done."
She said nothing else, and the Aurors began murmuring amongst themselves whilst they waited for Potter's signal.
When it came, the very fate of wizarding Britain could rest on what was to follow.
Amelia was oddly calm.
Perhaps that would change when they arrived at the Ministry. For now, however, she was almost serene, comforted by the thought that tonight, there would be no more living in fear.
She would either die trying to take the Ministry of Magic, or she would live to see it done.
The former had been the reality she'd lived with every day for months now, ever since she'd almost been burned alive in her own home. She'd become accustomed to it, so much so, she'd accepted it for what it was.
Now, it was the norm, and despite what happened this night, she would have either failed or succeeded knowing she had done all she could to put an end to Lord Voldemort.
(Break)
Both had slept surprisingly well given that in only a matter of moments, they would be venturing into one of the most protected buildings in magical Britain.
Besides Gringotts and Hogwarts, which outdated the Ministry of Magic considerably, there was no denying the dangerous fail-safes the Dark lord had implemented.
Nonetheless. Harry and Morgana were eager to be done with this chapter of their lives and ready to leave it behind them.
They had been watching the map closely for the past several hours, looking on as the workers of the Ministry gathered in the atrium before being allowed to leave for the day.
Little did they know, that come tomorrow, their workplace would once more be different to what they had become accustomed to.
"They're searching them," Harry had explained as Morgana shot him a look of curiosity. "They either want to make sure they are who they claim to be, or that they are not taking anything that might compromise the security."
"There are still dozens of them in there," his wife had pointed out.
There were.
Even long after sunset, every corridor, every department, and every office was being watched closely.
"There," Harry murmured, pointing to the lone figure arriving onto the fourth floor. "Rookwood must be taken first. He is the most dangerous of them."
"You have a plan."
"I do," Harry confirmed. "I'm going in first. I need to handle this part of it delicately. Give me fifteen minutes before you follow and take care of the first two floors. I will take the third, fourth, and fifth. I can move quicker under the cloak."
"What about the Wizengamot chambers?"
Harry shook his head.
"They're only occupied during meetings. I've not seen anyone down there, but I suspect that will be where any reinforcements arrive. Malfoy manor will be connected to the floo," he added thoughtfully. "Make it thirty minutes, when the bigger hand reaches the six," he finished amusedly as Morgana scowled at the watch she was wearing.
"I'll never get used to this thing," she grumbled. "What was so difficult about tracking the sun?"
Harry shrugged.
"I didn't change it," he snorted.
Morgana hummed before placing a kiss on his lips.
"Don't do anything stupid, Harry," she sighed.
"I make no promises."
"Of course you won't," Morgana huffed as he concealed himself within the folds of the cloak.
When he was certain he was covered, he carefully made his way to the phonebox a short distance away before using it to enter the Ministry of Magic, ensuring no guards were nearby on the map.
Fortunately, they weren't, and this method of entry was much more subtle than the fireplaces bursting into life. Nonetheless, Harry remained vigilant as he made his way towards the staircase, opting to use it to climb the floors instead of the golden lift.
With the map in his possession, all went as well as he'd hoped, and he avoided two separate patrols before reaching the fourth floor where he spotted a lone figure busying himself with a door at the end of one of the halls.
Rookwood.
Harry had heard the name, even knew enough about the man to know that he was indeed a dangerous foe, but oddly, he was not spoken of as much as Bellatrix, Malfoy, and others of their station.
Augustus Rookwood seemingly operated in the shadows on behalf of the Dark Lord, not often involving himself in anything so direct as to attack with his comrades.
Thus far, it had afforded him something of a sense of anonymity and allowed him to continue without drawing attention to himself. Now, however, Harry was paying attention, and as he edged ever closer towards the man, he readied himself to be rid of him.
Augustus neither sensed nor anticipated what was to come, and as the blade Morgana had gifted Harry was plunged through his back and heart, he scarcely offered any protest before collapsing to the ground with a dull thud, breathing his last only a moment later.
His final expression was one of utter shock, and Harry busied himself by ensuring there was no trace of him left by shrinking the body and quickly cleaning the floor of the resulting blood.
Having stuffed the remains of the man into an empty trunk, Harry checked the map once more, only to find the dot of Augustus Rookwood had vanished.
He was dead, and yet, this was merely the beginning of the undertaking this evening. Many others would likely follow, but not until the trap was ready to be sprung.
With that in mind, Harry checked his watch to see that Morgana would be entering the building shortly, but he had enough time to complete his lastminute addendum to their plan.
Ensuring he was covered by his cloak, he descended the stairs, though he did not stop at the atrium.
Instead, he continued further down until he emerged in the lowest level of the Ministry of Magic where the chambers of the Wizengamot could be found.
If Riddle somehow learned of what was happening and managed to send reinforcements, they would be greeted by a most unpleasant surprise.
Tonight, the tide of the war would shift irreparably, and as Harry set to work once more, he allowed himself to enjoy the anticipation of it all coming to an end, to killing the Dark lord that had plagued him so and finally getting justice for all that deserved for the transgressions against them by Tom Marvolo Riddle.
(Break)
The inside of the Ministry of magic was deceptively small when looking at it on the map. The actual building itself was large, with many nooks and crannies one could conceal themselves within should the need arise.
That would usually be so, but since Riddle had arrived and placed his protections, a single toe out of line would alert those within, which was why due diligence was required whilst she navigated her way through the first-floor offices belonging to the Department of Underage Magic.
During the day, these would be full of witches and wizards, monitoring the magical activity across Britain, alerting them to magic cast in within muggle dwellings, or anywhere in larger quantities than usual.
To Morgana, it was quite the operation, but she couldn't help it was as much a hindrance as it was an invasion of privacy.
Not that the system was foolproof by any stretch.
There were swathes of land across Great Britain that were not tracked in such a way, and many others within the larger cities also which meant that the Ministry, despite its best efforts, was largely blind to the illegal use of magic.
Not that Morgana cared for such things.
She was not here to learn of the undertakings of the Ministry, but to undo the protections Riddle had put in place. Through his own work, Harry had identified those he would need to address, those that had been created using Parseltongue.
Knowing that Riddle would be stumped as to how they had been bypassed brought a grin to her lips, and as she set to work completing her own part of the task, Morgana made sure that her work was precise to ensure they were not discovered prematurely.
When she was finished here, she transformed once again and began the arduous journey to the floor above, where another, more complex set of protections awaited her, though she could not help but wonder how Harry was faring.
He'd evidently succeeded in killing Rookwood, but beyond that, Morgana was not sure where her husband was now, or what he was doing.
Knowing Harry, he was probably already done with his part in neutralising the protections, though her mind quickly changed on that notion as a blaring alarm began sounding throughout the Ministry.
Immediately, heavy footsteps crashed out around her as the dozens of those on duty hurried to see what had triggered.
Fortunately, Morgana managed to scuttle close enough to a skirting board so that she would not be crushed, and when there, she waited, listening intently.
Had she somehow been detected?
She'd felt no magic interfering with her own, which meant that Harry must have unintentionally triggered the alarm.
Or perhaps he had done it on purpose.
Morgana didn't know, but seeing as this floor had been cleared of those occupying it, she quickly transformed and set to work on the protections here, keeping a close eye on the door at the far end of the hall in case they returned.
The alarm continued to sound, and only a moment later, the sounds of a skirmish joined it.
Doing her utmost to finish her work, she hurried from the room, down the adjoining staircase, and back into the atrium where only a few moments prior it had been quite peaceful.
Now, however, quite the outburst of violence had ensued, and at the very centre of it was her husband, surrounded by the workers of the Ministry, The Order of the Phoenix, and the Aurors now spilling into the room led by Amelia Bones.
What had happened, Morgana wasn't sure, but raising her wand, she threw herself into the ongoing battle, felling a pair of Death Eaters with nasty organ-liquefying curse and a rupturing curse respectively.
(Break)
The atmosphere amongst them only became more tense the longer they waited. One hour turned into two, and then three. The longer they waited, the more restless they became, and Amelia began to think that the signal to arrive at the Ministry would never come.
Still, she held firm, waiting for word from Potter for when they would be needed.
"That's it, that's the signal!" Rufus declared, eliciting a frown from Amelia.
"No!" she gasped as she could only look on as the man and the Aurors vanished.
There had been no signal.
Her wand would vibrate three times to announce the moment they were to arrive at the Ministry, and it had not left her hand since she'd drawn it upon leaving the house to address the Aurors.
Amelia could only follow, and upon doing so, entered the Ministry into a scene of chaos.
An alarm was sounding throughout the atrium where the Aurors had engaged dozens of the Dark lord's followers, and Amelia immediately found herself having to duck to avoid a vicious cutting curse.
Returning fire, her victim fell with a scream as one his legs was removed, and he began crawling desperately away, clinging to the stump.
Amelia, however, was focused on what was unfolding around her, and her eyes widened as a jet of green light careened towards her.
Raising her wand, she knew her efforts to defend herself would be fruitless, but before she could utter a syllable, a large piece of the recently repaired floor intercepted the spell.
Her attacker raised his wand once more, only to drop it as his head was lopped off by a sword.
Potter caught the blade as he stalked towards Amelia, killing three others along the way.
His expression was thunderous as he reached her.
"What the fuck happened?" he demanded.
"Rufus," Amelia huffed. "I don't know what has gotten into him. He's not been himself recently."
Potter's nostrils flared as he searched for the man, huffing irritably when he was nowhere to be seen, though he was momentarily distracted by the arrival of Albus, and he offered the headmaster a nod.
"I'm going to ensure no one else can enter," he explained, before hurrying towards the fireplace, followed by his wife as she finished dispatching two more of the Death Eaters.
For her part, Amelia did all she could and continued fighting, furious with Rufus for what he'd done.
When this was over, if they survived, he would be lucky to have a job come the morning.
(Break)
He did not appreciate being disturbed in the small hours, but the knocking on his door within Malfoy Manor was incessant, and the Dark Lord scowled as he opened it to be greeted by the sight of a panicked Corbin Yaxley.
"My Lord, there is a breach within the Ministry!" the man explained breathlessly.
"I felt no disturbance," Lord Voldemort muttered irritably, searching for the magic he'd placed within the building.
It wasn't present, and the Dark Lord knew that somehow, Dumbledore, Potter, or the previous administration had found a way to nullify it.
But how?
How had they managed to identify what it was, let alone how to dispel it?
"Take…"
"My Lord, we cannot apparate within," Corbin informed him. "There is the floo…"
"No, if they have taken measures to prevent apparation, then the floo will also be impossible to access. Have you sent any of the others?"
Yaxley nodded.
"They cannot enter the building, my lord."
"Then it is lost to us," Voldemort murmured, feeling his infamous temper flaring as yet another thing had come undone.
Fate truly was trying to test him.
Everything was crumbling to the ground around him, and the Dark Lord found himself no better off than the night he had regained a body.
In truth, he was worse off.
He no longer had the advantage of the rest of Britain being ignorant to his presence, he'd lost the majority of his most loyal followers, and the war was being lost.
It had all begun going wrong with Potter's return, and things had only become steadily worse.
He'd failed to retrieve the prophecy, had been exposed in the process, and though he'd taken the Ministry for himself, it was now undeniably lost to him.
Even if he were to find a way in, it would no longer be under his control.
The first thing the old fool would do would be to call a meeting of the Wizengamot, and they would immediately elect a new Minister of Magic, meaning all of his efforts to secure it had been for nothing.
The Dark lord could only shake his head.
"My lord?" Yaxley pressed.
"It is gone, Corbin. The Ministry is no longer ours."
Yaxley said nothing, and the Dark lord closed the door before levelling his wand towards his bed.
Unleashing a guttural roar, he reduced it to tinder, cursing Potter, Dumbledore, and any other that came to mind, lost at what he would do next in a bid to gain a semblance of control of the war that was no longer his for the taking.
(Break)
He was furious, and though the fighting was now dwindling, and doing so in their favour, the victory would not be a cause for celebration for Harry.
Of course, retaking the Ministry was quite the feat, but it was the method forced upon him to do so that he did not appreciate, and as he spotted Rufus Scrimgeour directing the Aurors whilst they arrested those who had surrendered, he stalked towards the man, ploughing his fist into his jaw as he reached him.
The atrium fell silent as Harry glared at the groaning man, and he fought the urge to hit him again.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Harry growled. "No signal was sent for you to act, and we hadn't finished taking down the protections, you fucking idiot!"
Scrimgeour spat out a mouthful of blood and staggered back to his feet.
"I did what was best for the Ministry!"
"No, you did what was best for your ego," Harry returned, "and could've gotten me and my wife killed, you stupid prat!"
Scrimgeour glared at him in response and Harry could only shake his head.
"All went to plan, didn't it?"
"Did you plan on getting several of your Aurors killed?" Harry bit back, gesturing to the several bodies of the man's colleagues strewn around the atrium.
"They were killed by his followers!"
"They were killed because you are a shit leader," Harry snorted. "How many of these men and women have families waiting for them, families that will now have to be told they were killed because you couldn't wait. What the hell did you hope to gain from this?"
"I am the Head of the Auror Department!" Scrimgeour protested. "These men and women follow me!"
"Rufus, that is enough!" Amelia Bones snapped as she stepped between them, her eyes narrowing towards her subordinate. "When this mess is cleaned up, you will report to my office. For now, get out of my sight!"
Scrimgeour appeared as though he wished to protest but evidently thought better of it.
Bones was clearly in no mood to be argued with, and the man shot Harry a filthy look before doing as he was bid.
"Still think he will be a good Minister?"
Amelia shook her head.
"I do not know what he was thinking."
"Glory," Harry said disappointedly. "He wanted the glory of this for himself. He wanted to be the one that retook the Ministry of Magic from the Dark Lord. He can have it for all I care, but he is the one who has to answer for all of this," he added, gesturing around the room. "He put this entire plan in jeopardy and is fortunate that this ended in our favour."
Bones nodded and shot him a look of apology.
"I will deal with Rufus," she said sadly. "His lack of remorse is troubling to say the least, and thank you, Potter, and to your wife. This wouldn't have been possible without you."
Harry nodded as he released a deep breath.
"Maybe," he acknowledged, "but the hardest part of all is yet to come. This is nothing compared to what we will face when we eventually catch up with him. He will fight with everything he has."
"When?" Amelia asked.
Harry understood her impatience.
He felt it too and was eager to see the end of this damned war.
"Sooner than you think," he answered. "Much sooner."
With luck, the goblins would soon finish navigating their way through the protections of Malfoy Manor, and then, Riddle could finally be forced to face them.
He will have nowhere else to go, nowhere he can hide where Harry wouldn't find him and unburden himself of the man that had weighed so heavily on him for so long.