Voldemort’s prediction proved to be remarkably accurate, almost prophetic. Bryan’s published statement in the Daily Prophet was like a massive boulder hurled into a tranquil lake, immediately causing tremendous waves that rippled out through the entire wizarding community.

The Ministry of Magic’s mornings were always bustling with activity with officials rushing between departments, owls delivering interdepartmental memos filled with the constant hum of magical bureaucracy. Whether in times of war or peace, that much remained constant, that uninterrupted activity and noise.

But today’s situation was absolutely different.

Every floor of the Ministry, from the topmost Ministerial offices down to the Department of Mysteries in the depths below, was shrouded in an eerie, unnatural silence. The officials coming and going between floors via the golden gates and lifts all had expressions of anxious unease etched on their faces.

“Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” announced the cool female voice that echoed through the lift. “Including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and the Wizengamot Administration Services.”

The gate opened with a clang, and Sirius stepped out of the crowded elevator car into a corridor with doors on both sides.

False windows enchanted onto the wall casted bright, artificial sunlight into the hallway, illuminating it with false cheerfulness. Yet even this magical brightness could not dispel the anxiety and worry permeating the air like smoke.

Sirius walked expressionlessly down the corridor. He turned a corner sharply, passed through two sets of doors that required passwords, and entered a chaotic open area divided into many small cubicles by partition walls. This was the famous Auror Office of the British magical world, the elite force that was supposed to protect the community.

Ever since Voldemort’s resurrection and his return to power several months ago, a flood of distasteful characters who had poured into the country through various channels and across poorly monitored borders had turned public safety into complete chaos. Crime was skyrocketing.

The already overworked and understaffed Aurors couldn’t spare a moment’s rest, constantly responding to incidents and investigations. This meant the office itself was often nearly empty of personnel, with most agents out in the field at any given time.

Sirius entered the common office area with its rows of desks and cabinets. As expected, he saw very few colleagues though the wizards behind the two supervisor desks at the front immediately turned their sharp gazes toward him the moment he entered, tracking his movement.

One of these two supervisors was the nominal head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour with distinctive tawny eyes and a graying hair.

Scrimgeour’s sharp gaze met Sirius’s briefly, their eyes were locking for a fraction of a second before he looked away, sliding his eyes past Sirius. He lowered his imposing head to continue reading the newspaper spread on his desk, treating Sirius as though he were completely invisible all.

Sirius’s brow furrowed subtly at this cold reception, a muscle was twitching in his jaw.

Because of his close association with Bryan, Scrimgeour had been particularly hostile toward him from the very first moment Sirius had joined the department after his release. He had made his disapproval very clear.

However, in recent days, Sirius had clearly sensed that Scrimgeour’s icy attitude had softened somewhat. He no longer looked at Sirius as though he wanted to kill him with his eyes alone, no longer released quite such naked hostility.

At the other supervisor’s desk, opposite Scrimgeour’s, sat John Dawlish who had somehow gained considerable favor with the Minister and been forcibly promoted to a supervisor position by the Ministry’s top brass, despite everyone knowing exactly what underhanded things he’d done to earn such patronage.

This fellow, who was scarcely more intelligent than a troll and certainly less principled, now wielded considerable power disproportionate to his abilities.

Under Cornelius Fudge’s intervention and manipulation, and with nominal supervision from Madam Bones, the newly recruited Hit Wizard team had fallen entirely under Dawlish’s control.

Even the command authority over the regular Aurors, which had originally belonged exclusively to Scrimgeour by right of his position and experience, was also gradually falling into Dawlish’s greedy hands through political guiding.

Dawlish’s gaze upon Sirius was far more in line with what Sirius had expected and was accustomed to receiving.

Holding a newspaper of his own, the same Daily Prophet that everyone in the building had read this morning, Dawlish’s expression toward Sirius could only be described as hateful and venomous. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and red-rimmed, veins bulged visibly on his forehead, and the corners of his eyes twitched faintly with suppressed rage.

“You’re late, Black!” Dawlish snapped.

‘Idiot—’ Sirius thought contemptuously but didn’t say anything.

Sirius returned Dawlish’s cold, hostile stare with calmness, meeting his eyes steadily. He couldn’t even be bothered to respond verbally to Dawlish’s petty accusation or defend himself.

Walking to his own assigned desk in the corner, he craned his neck to check whether there were any urgent matters requiring his attention in his inbox.

Finding nothing but routine paperwork, Sirius raised his chin defiantly and, deliberately ignoring Dawlish’s increasingly furious expression and reddening face, walked straight through the Auror Office toward the back. He pushed open another door leading to the inner corridors, leaving without a word.

The sharp sound of a newspaper being violently slammed down on a desk behind him in the room failed to move Sirius or slow his steps. He walked quickly down the narrow passage, turned left at an intersection, entered another corridor decorated with portraits of past Ministers, then turned right into a dim, dilapidated hallway that clearly hadn’t been maintained in years.

At the end of this forgotten corridor, the door to a small room on the right stood slightly open, a sliver of light was showing. As Sirius approached quietly, he could hear suppressed voices speaking urgently inside, though he couldn’t make out the words.

The people in the room were clearly alert and cautious. Upon hearing Sirius’s approaching footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, the voices immediately ceased abruptly, and a moment later a wary face peered out suspiciously through the narrow crack in the door.

“Ah, it’s Sirius—” the face said with apparent relief.

The wariness on Kingsley’s face vanished completely the moment he recognized Sirius.

“Oh, Kingsley—” Sirius greeted warmly.

The ice melted from Sirius’s own face as well, replaced by a grin. “What are you doing hiding out in Arthur’s office? Why aren’t you at your own desk in Magical Law Enforcement?”

“My reason for not being there is exactly the same as yours, Sirius,” Kingsley replied in his deep, calm voice. “With only Scrimgeour and Dawlish in the office, both of them in bad moods, it’s absolutely suffocating.”

Kingsley pulled the door open wider, allowing Sirius to squeeze past him into the cramped Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office where Arthur worked.

“Oh, thank goodness Perkins took the day off today otherwise this tiny room couldn’t possibly hold so many people,” Arthur said apologetically from behind his cluttered desk.

He was already gathering up a large portion of the documents and files piled high on his workspace and stuffing them hastily into the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet, clearing a space on the desk’s edge for Sirius to sit.

“Thanks, Arthur—” Sirius said appreciatively.

He didn’t mind the cramped quarters at all and made himself comfortably on the corner of Arthur’s desk with one leg dangling.

“Have you seen this morning’s report, the one from Rita Skeeter? It’s about Bryan and Hogwarts—” Arthur immediately launched in once Sirius had settled himself, waving the newspaper indignantly.

“It’s absolutely outrageous!”

“Outrageous?” Sirius repeated with some surprise, raising his eyebrows. “Who exactly are you talking about, Arthur?”

“Who else could it possibly be!” Arthur said in a loud voice.

He slammed the newspaper down on the desk, making Sirius bounce slightly. The moving photograph on the front page showed several young wizards, first and second years by the look of them standing timidly beside the long tables in the Great Hall. On the tables before them lay only a few pitiful pieces of dried bread and unappetizing potato cakes.

“Molly is absolutely furious about this, I’ve never seen her so angry!” Arthur continued.

“I never dared tell her about the conflict between the Board of Governors and Hogwarts, hoping it would be resolved quietly. But now that this whole matter has been reported publicly in the Prophet, there’s no way to hide it anymore.

She now knows that the Board of Governors deliberately stopped funding Hogwarts, that they tried to starve the school into submission. And that Fred and George, along with Ron and Ginny were all going hungry! Oh, it took everything I had to stop her from charging off immediately with her cooking ladle to storm the Minister’s office and have it out with Fudge himself!”

Arthur also sighed repeatedly, running his hand through his thinning red hair, clearly deeply worried about his children’s circumstances at school.

“Don’t worry too much, Arthur—” Sirius said reassuringly, leaning forward.

Remus hadn’t hidden from Sirius and Amelia the fact that Bryan had called him to personally escort the gold galleons from Paris. However, without clear permission to share that information, Remus hadn’t told Arthur and Kingsley the details. So, Sirius simply reassured Arthur without revealing everything:

“You know Bryan isn’t an impulsive person, Arthur. He thinks everything through carefully. Since he’s declared publicly on behalf of Hogwarts that they’re severing ties with the Board of Governors, basically kicking them out—it means he already has a concrete way to keep Hogwarts operating independently. He wouldn’t have made such a bold move without a plan.”

“Bryan certainly isn’t impulsive or reckless, I agree with that,” Kingsley interjected worriedly into the conversation. “But this time—”

He gestured to the newspaper.

“He said in the article that the Minister has openly and deliberately directed the flames of war toward innocent children. Most people who read those words will feel the same way that Molly does.

Without question, the Minister for Magic’s reputation is now in complete ruins. His approval ratings will be at an all-time low. Fudge won’t let this public humiliation slide so easily. He’s bound to do something rash and potentially dangerous in response to Bryan’s public accusations.”

“In my view, this isn’t merely an accusation,” Sirius said quite calmly.

“It’s a declaration of war. Bryan is forcing Fudge to take action. I think Bryan’s decided he’s not going to tolerate the Ministry under Fudge’s incompetent leadership constantly undermining him and Dumbledore, the way Dumbledore has patiently tolerated it for months. He’s done being patient.”

The cramped office fell into heavy silence for a moment. Arthur and Kingsley exchanged meaningful glances, each seeing the deep unease and worry reflected in the other’s eyes.

The resurrected Dark Lord was still lurking somewhere in the shadows, watching the magical world with malicious intent and gathering his forces. Yet Bryan was choosing to go to war with the Ministry first, opening a second front.

No matter how one looked at it, from any angle, this didn’t seem like a particularly wise decision.

Admittedly, Bryan’s supreme magical power and combat abilities allowed him to personally disregard Fudge’s threats or any action the Minister might take. But after such an intense political conflict, after the inevitable fallout and chaos, how would they effectively fight against You-Know-Who?

Without the Ministry as an institutional barrier, without its resources and manpower, relying solely on the Order of the Phoenix’s limited membership and volunteer forces, there was simply no realistic way to fight against the organized dark forces from across Europe that were currently gathering within Britain’s borders in preparation for war.

“How could Dumbledore have agreed to this?” Arthur asked worriedly, unable to understand. “Hasn’t he always hoped that the Minister would eventually change his mind and face reality?”

“Haven’t you noticed something, Arthur?” Sirius asked in return.

“Think about it carefully. Since Voldemort came back this time, Dumbledore hasn’t been nearly as cautious in dealing with Voldemort as he was during the last war. He’s not frantically trying to gather intelligence or urgently trying to dismantle Voldemort’s forces before they grow. He doesn’t even seem particularly concerned about expanding the Order of the Phoenix or recruiting new members. His whole approach is different.”

“Is it because…” Kingsley paused, thinking it through, then cautiously expressed his opinion. “Because Bryan is here this time?”

“You must understand something crucial—” Sirius said, turning his head to look meaningfully at Kingsley, then at Arthur.

“Bryan is very young—much younger than Dumbledore, younger than us, and far, far younger than Voldemort.”

A flash of understanding like lightning piercing through storm clouds cut through the gloom and worry in their hearts. Kingsley’s heavy, oppressed mood immediately lifted considerably, his face was brightening.

Yes, that was it! That was the key difference!

This time, unlike the first war, time itself stood firmly on the side of justice!

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