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.

Bryan was not one to tolerate any form of deception or manipulation. If he were truly enraged about this incident, the Malfoy family would undoubtedly have faced severe consequences. Yet, Bryan had merely issued a warning to Lucius - an action that seemed oddly out of character. Unless, Dumbledore pondered, Bryan wasn't genuinely concerned about this matter and had his own plans for Lucius Malfoy.

Respect had always been the cornerstone of their relationship, the prerequisite for their friendly coexistence. Whatever Bryan's thoughts about Lucius Malfoy might be, Dumbledore decided it was best not to interfere or pry further.

After giving Bryan, whose expression remained expressionless, a long, searching look, Dumbledore turned away. He raised his hand and knocked firmly on the imposing door before them.

*Scene-break*

"Well, it seems our little adventure for tonight ends here. There are plenty of rooms upstairs, you can choose whichever you like. If you want something to eat, just call for Kreacher—"

Bryan had already left, and Dumbledore's Patronus had also vanished on the spot.

After chatting for a few more minutes, Sirius, who had been through a fierce battle and whose robes were stained red with blood, finally couldn't hold on any longer. He needed to go back to his room to tend to his wounds. After giving instructions, Sirius waved goodbye to everyone and dragged his weary body upstairs.

Bill and Charlie Weasley, equally battered and exhausted from the night's events, weren't far behind. They gave weak smiles and brief waves to Harry before hurriedly making their way upstairs, no doubt eager to collapse into their beds. Fred and George, uncharacteristically quiet, followed closely on their older brothers' heels.

As the older Weasleys disappeared up the stairs, Ron's attention turned to his younger sister, Ginny, who remained rooted to her spot in the room. His brow furrowed in a mixture of concern and irritation. "Why aren't you going up yet?" Ron said, his tone gruffer than he perhaps intended.

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously as she turned to face her brother. "What's it to you where I am, Weasley!" she spat back, her voice dripping with defiance. However, as her gaze flickered towards Harry and she noticed his hesitant expression, a shadow of gloom passed over her face, dulling the fire in her eyes.

Hermione had noticed the exchange and Ginny's sudden change in demeanor. "Ginny has the right to stay wherever she wants, Ron," she said, her voice tinged with irritation at Ron's overbearing behavior.

Despite Hermione's defense, Ginny didn't linger. With a contemptuous snort directed at Ron, she lifted her chin defiantly and strode towards the stairs.

"I'm her brother!" Ron's voice, filled with indignation at Ginny's attitude, could be heard throughout the first floor of the mansion.

Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically at Ron's outburst. "Oh, give it a rest, Weasley, and shut your mouth," she said, exasperation clear in her tone. Without waiting for a response, she made her way back into the garden, leaving Ron sputtering in her wake.

Sirius's tent was indeed luxurious. Like the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, it could reflect the scene outside. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned to their seats at the table in the garden, basking in the starlight and enjoying the tranquility after the fierce battle.

Both Harry and Hermione had participated in tonight's fight, with Harry having faced the most dangerous situation. The red swelling on his arm was a souvenir from that dark witch Melanov's vicious whip. If it hadn't been for the timely intervention of another powerful dark witch, Harry knew he might well be lying in a bed at St. Mungo's Hospital right now, rather than sitting here under the stars.

Hermione, too, bore the marks of battle. Her clothes, bought during a pleasant summer shopping trip with her parents at a Muggle mall, were now little more than tattered rags. She gazed dejectedly at the multiple tears in her once-favorite jacket, her mood visibly dampened by its destruction. With a resigned sigh, she shrugged off the dusty, ruined jacket and draped it over the armrest of her chair.

As Hermione looked up, her eyes fell on Harry and Ron. Both boys were staring at the table, lost in their own thoughts.

Harry's concerns were obvious— The appearance of the powerful dark witch and the shadowy figure that was almost certainly Voldemort were enough to give him a headache.

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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