0447 Regrets
Bryan's footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors as he descended to the second basement level in the Ministry of Magic's elevator. The golden grilles slid open with a gentle clang, revealing the domain of Amelia Bones's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. This floor housed the most powerful armed organization in the Ministry- the Auror Office.
But ,the entire Ministry was eerily empty, and this floor was no exception. As Bryan stepped out of the elevator, his keen eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor, Dumbledore's familiar voice rang out from the right, cutting through the oppressive silence.
"This way, Bryan,"
The architecture of the Ministry's second basement level seemed deliberately designed to emphasize the significance of magical law. Stark and cold, the corridors were a somber palette of blacks and grays, apart from the portraits of past heads of the department hanging on the corridor walls, there were no decorations.
Bryan turned a few corners in the maze like corridors and found Dumbledore standing at the entrance to a staircase leading further down. The flaming torches on either side of the entrance casted a golden glow on Dumbledore's silver-white beard.
"Cornelius was in quite a hurry to give some last-minute instructions to the head of the Auror Office," Dumbledore explained with a smile, "I was concerned you might lose your way in this maze, so I thought it prudent to wait for you here."
Bryan nodded slightly, "Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Amelia's office is on the other side, and I've never ventured this deep into the Ministry before. It's quite the labyrinth down here."
The staircase before them plunged underground, bearing a striking resemblance to the one leading to the Wizengamot courtrooms. It was shrouded in darkness, the air growing noticeably colder with each step downward. The atmosphere was heavy as this was where Aurors likely conducted temporary detentions and intense interrogations of the dangerous magical criminals. As, both Dumbledore and Bryan were powerful wizards, they could easily find their footing on each step even in the darkness.
As they descended, Dumbledore's cheerful voice cut through the gloomy surroundings. "I couldn't help but notice, Bryan," he began, a hint of amusement in his tone, "that you might have missed an opportunity to demand a rather hefty fee from Cornelius earlier. Not that I'm suggesting you should have, of course."
Bryan chuckled softly, "Rest assured, I won't let Fudge off that easily," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Though, of course, I wasn't planning to ask for an exorbitant amount. I do have some restraint." He paused for a moment, then added with a smirk, "By the way, Mr. Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards, I'm curious - does the ICW have any official stance on my brave and fearless performance tonight?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he responded, "Objectively speaking, Bryan, the International Confederation of Wizards is a rather... impoverished organization. Most of the funds required to keep it operational come from various Ministries of Magic. If you're hoping I'll present you with a large sum of galleons, I'm afraid that's quite out of the question." He stroked his beard thoughtfully before continuing, "However, if it's prestige you're after, well, that's an entirely different matter. I'd wager that by tomorrow morning, my office will be flooded with at least twenty owls delivering letters of recommendation, all clamoring to invite you to become a Vice-Chairman."
"Vice-Chairman?" Bryan scoffed playfully. "If it were for the position of Chairman, I might consider it."
Bryan's jest elicited another chuckle from Dumbledore.
After this playful conversation, they finally reached the bottom of the stairs. The area that greeted them was a stark contrast to the polished upper levels of the Ministry. Bryan's gaze lingered on these chambers, his imagination running wild. He could almost hear faint, ghostly wails emanating from behind each heavy door. The air seeping through the cracks seemed saturated with the metallic scent of blood.
The two stopped before a particularly ominous door. Unlike the others, this one had golden firelight spilling through its cracks. Dumbledore turned to face Bryan, his expression suddenly serious, the twinkle in his eyes replaced by a penetrating gaze.
"So, Bryan," Dumbledore began, his voice low and leisurely, "did you inquire about Malfoy's true purpose in orchestrating this attack?"
Bryan wasn't surprised by Dumbledore's abrupt question. Slowly, he shook his head, his expression thoughtful. "I didn't ask him anything directly," Bryan admitted. "I just gave him some warnings. As for his purpose..." He paused, considering his words carefully. "Well, I guess the unusual activity of the Dark Mark over the past few months has made him increasingly uneasy. Especially considering he practically handed Voldemort's Horcrux to us on a silver platter. My guess is he's terrified of facing Voldemort's wrath when he inevitably returns. This attack... it's likely a desperate attempt to prove he's still capable of evil."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, processing Bryan's words. He could follow the logic of Bryan's deductions regarding Lucius Malfoy's motives. However, a slight furrow appeared between his silver-white eyebrows, and a flicker of confusion passed through his piercing blue eyes. It wasn't Malfoy's reasons for this mischief that perplexed him, but rather Bryan's surprisingly lenient attitude towards the Death Eater.
Ron's pensive expression, however, piqued Hermione's curiosity. It was unusual to see him so deep in thought, especially after such an eventful night.
"What are you thinking about, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.
Ron's head snapped up at her words. "Oh, can't you call me something else, Miss Granger?" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. But the moment of light-heartedness was short-lived, and his expression quickly became somber once more. "I was thinking," he began, then hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. Finally, he pressed on, "I was wondering whether my decision to quit Professor Watson's class was too hasty."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and beside her, Harry raised his head to look at Ron with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Noticing their expressions, Ron's ears turned pink, and he grumbled, "Alright, I know you both probably think I'm being stupid!"
Hermione pursed her lips, considering her words carefully, and asked in a neutral tone. "What made you change your mind, Ron?"
'Is there even any need to ask this?' Harry complained in his heart.
At Hogwarts, no one doubted that Professor Watson was a wizard with extraordinary magical prowess. Even in the European magical community, the Head of Hogwarts Student Safety Office, who had single-handedly wiped out Greyback's notorious werewolf gang, was highly respected. But no one had anticipated that Professor Watson could be this powerful. No, to be precise, no one could have imagined that a wizard's power could actually burn mountains to ashes and conjure forests that reached the sky.
Harry could bet his Firebolt that if Professor Watson were to open enrollment to the entire Wizarding world now, even if he really did teach Muggle sports at Hogwarts, there would be more aspiring students than the Quidditch pitch could possibly hold. It was perfectly understandable for Ron to feel a twinge of regret at having dropped the class.
However, it was only tonight that Harry truly realized the practical value of Professor Watson's unorthodox training methods. If it weren't for the enhanced reflexes and physical conditioning, he had developed in those grueling physical education classes, that dark witch called Melanov might well have ended his life tonight.
Harry thought since Professor Watson had made it explicitly clear that he would not accept any young wizards who had abandoned the physical education class back into the course. A wizard of Professor Watson's caliber would never go back on his word, so even if Ron was experiencing regret now, there was little he could do to change the situation.
Hermione's raised eyebrows slowly lowered as she processed Ron's words. Not wanting to upset him further or rub salt in the wound, she turned her gaze to Harry, trying to change the subject.
"What about you?" she asked softly. "What are you thinking about, Harry?"
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Author's Note:
Hi everyone,
I wanted to let you know that I have to go somewhere today and will be away until the day after tomorrow. I will post today's chapter but tomorrow i may not be able to post. The updates will be regular from the day i return.
Thank you for your understanding and support!
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