Amelia took a sip of her coffee while she waited. The day was only starting and she already knew it was going to suck. If the grand Wizengamot meeting was not enough, today also happened to be the day the Gringotts analysts gave the final results of the goblet's examination. In her humble opinion, it was a vain effort to find the responsible for entering Harry's name in the competition, but she had to try.
Moody's research had no results, as shocking as it was. The whole castle was searched, the personnel questioned, and their backgrounds checked. Nothing. The older students were interviewed along with all the prefects. Nothing. There was absolutely no clue about the identity of the responsible. Moody swore and perjured he was missing something, but for the life of him, he had no idea what. Neither did she for the matter. In any case, it was no longer a matter of vital importance.
She witnessed Harry Potter's prowess and knew the boy was more than capable to take care of himself during the tasks. Amelia's main worry had nothing to do with his performance in the Tournament, but on the reason why the last Potter was entered to the competition. Even if it was because of nothing else than a joke, she needed to know in order to have some peace of mind. That and Moody was driving her nuts with all his nagging.
"You have to eat," Sirius muttered, breaking her train of thoughts. "We have a long day ahead of us."
"Bah, Malfoy and Blair will keep the idiots in check," Moody snapped, eyeing the scones with wariness while Amelia groaned.
"You forget that I have to deal with those idiots. Politics don't allow me the same freedom."
"That is your problem, not mine."
"Remind me then who will be the talk of the town after the meeting today," Amelia retorted, smiling at the souring expression of the man.
The bright green light that emanated from the fireplace was enough to interrupt whatever Moody wanted to say, much to his chagrin. Amelia would store the memory to enjoy later because now there were matters to take care of.
"Good morning, Miss Adams, please take a seat."
"Minister Bones, Auror Moody, Lord Black." The serious woman nodded at each one as greeting.
"Do you want anything to drink?" Amelia offered the newcomer, signalling the table in the middle with all the available options.
"I'd rather not," the tall woman stated and went straight to business, taking out three folders from her briefcase and handing them. "We examined every spell and rune on the Goblet and I don't have good news. The artefact was created with no apparent regard towards the safety of the champions, solely orientated to selecting the competitors and ensuring they don't leave the Tournament.
"As you know, it was created by the three headmasters of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang in 1294. Those were dark times and the old clans and magical families had quite an influence on how the schools were run because they provided protection against muggles. This meant that, if their heirs were chosen but decided not to compete, things would go quite sour. In order to prevent all the drama, we believe that the headmasters enchanted the goblet to choose the three students with the most intent to compete. That is the reason why the Goblet of Fire adheres to the magical core of the students because intent is trans-"
"Intent is translated into magic," Sirius completed the phrase. Even Amelia admitted that the stony expression on her boyfriend's face made her uncomfortable.
"So that is how the magical contract is created, eh?" Moody asked rhetorically.
"It is not really a contract, per se. More like the unwitting, or perhaps not, creation of a magical leech that stops affecting the champions once the Goblet goes dormant again. Which basically forces the chosen students to participate unless they want their cores to be consumed for not following the, uhm, vague parameters the artefact enforces."
"Then how my godson's name ended up being chosen?" Sirius asked in a faux gentle tone that sent shivers down Amelia's spine.
"I was going to that, Lord Black," the woman said, looking unaffected and taking out a small glass box from her suitcase. "The parchment with Mister Potter's name holds an overwhelming amount of magic. However," Miss Adams said before Sirius interrupted her, "it only holds his magical imprint."
"Would you be as kind as to explain what that means exactly?" Amelia asked before her boyfriend lost whatever patience he possessed.
"Ah, of course. Intent translates to magic because it's the trigger for us to be able to use it. However, once magic leaves your body it's no longer bound to your intent because you can no longer control it. What is left is the nature of your desire and how it affects reality, simple, really." Judging by Sirius confused expression, Amelia wasn't the only one lost.
"I'm gonna gut those bloody wankers," Alastor hissed, though he sounded more surprised than angry.
"What just happened?" Sirius almost growled, frowning at the man.
"Don't you see? That slimy cockroach had access, and even contact with your godson! That little blighter managed to evade me. Me! And the worst of all is that the little shit didn't even leave the castle!"
Amelia placed a hand on Sirius' forearm and forced him to take a step back. Alastor was in one of his moods. She would need to contact Edgar for him to pick up his crazy husband before he went on a hunting spree. Again.
"Allow me to explain," Miss Adams offered, unaffected by Moody's manic mutters. "The parchment still carries Mister Potter's magical imprint, but not his signature. The difference is that the latter happens when a person uses magic on an object while the former is consequence of the magic used. For example, a mage leaves its magical signature on the object or person it enchants while the place and surrounding objects are tainted with its magical imprint during the process. Do you need another example?"
"Does that mean someone placed the parchment in a place where Harry used magic and then put it in the Goblet?" Sirius asked, his face lost all colour and he looked torn between homicidal anger and something else that Amelia wasn't sure she wanted to decipher.
"Basically. The problem is that magical imprints last two days at most, unless properly conserved. The connection should have already faded, but the Goblet still registers four champions."
Amelia only felt the cold liquid splash her trousers when her numb fingers could no longer hold her cup. The rising liquid in her throat was definitely bile. She knew she shouldn't have eaten. The sound of the table cracking under Sirius' fist was enough to return her some semblance of composure. She was the bloody Minister, Merlin be damned!
"Don't you have any protections on it?" Amelia decided to ask after taking a deep breath.
"We are not allowed to take any wizard owned relic without said wizard or his heir's consent to Gringotts. We had to literally visit the school whenever we needed to take another look to the Goblet. However, we safeguarded a room in the castle. Manager Ragnok was so angry by the security breach that half of the team was fired and the others were questioned. Unfortunately, the mistake is not on our side."
"Hogwarts has thousands of hidden passages. The responsible may have found one that led them to the room. Haven't you thought of changing it?" Sirius asked in a tone that implied the stupidity of the person in charge. Amelia was quite sure that she didn't like this side of the no longer sweet man.
"We did so. Five times to be exact," Miss Adams answered with a gentle smile. "The Goblet is still being fed. We no longer know what to do and we can't place stronger wards or we risk the magic of the artefact being severed from the champions' core and we won't risk the children." This time the woman's demeanour changed and her eyes flashed in challenge.
"What will happen if the magic stops being fed?" Amelia asked, more in an effort to distract Sirius than any real curiosity.
"Nothing really. Mister Potter's core is not compromised, unlike the other champions. Magic imprints are heavily polluted, in the long run, they are barely useful. In other words, he will not be affected by the goblet or the tournament in any way." Amelia resisted the urge to punch the woman, couldn't she have started by that and prevented this whole drama?
"Sure, the only threat against him is a psycho stalker who is still in the castle and has access to him," Sirius said in an almost cheery tone that made Miss Adams falter.
"I am not supposed to be telling you this, but I think it would be better for your peace of mind, Lord Black. Mirror summons made another donation after the beginning of the term and Gringotts was hired to install wards, amongst other things. Manager Ragnok personally assembled a team of his best hunters and hit wizards to find the responsible. The Goblin nation is not taking well this insult."
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Amelia almost cried in relief when Sirius' expression went back to familiar territory. That ruthless side of him was something she didn't want to interact with again. All her relief went down the drain when she recognized what his calm expression was trying to hide. Remorse. Shame. Fear. The ghosts that tormented Sirius for so long were trying to make a comeback and she would be damned if she allowed it. She placed a gentle hand on his forearm and waited for him to look at her. They just locked gazes and she hoped he was able to understand her tacit message.
"Ignoring the lovebirds, where do you think that the bastard is getting Potter's magical imprint?" Moody almost snarled at the nonplussed woman.
"That is like asking where do pixies live. However, we do have a few suspicions. There are few subjects heavily oriented towards practice. The responsible would only need to take a sample of the object that Mister Potter transformed or enchanted."
"Transfiguration, Defence, Combat Magic, and Charms. Those are the first classrooms I will search. They're the first real clues that I've managed to get in all this skunk dung."
"Indeed. Is there any other question?"
"Harry no longer has to compete, right?" Sirius asked in a small voice, all his anger long gone.
"Not at all. Apparently, he should have never been forced to but we didn't know better. However, I don't think goblins will be happy if Mister Potter decides to leave the Tournament. They hate losing money."
Miss Adams left with those words, not before smiling at Sirius and nodding at the other occupants of the room.
"At least he no longer has to compete." It was a hollow comfort, she knew it.
The room remained silent until Marcus reminded them that there was a grand Wizengamot meeting to attend. Amelia simply cleaned her trousers, only wincing slightly at the sensation of rough fabric against her skin. She composed the best neutral expression she could manage in this situation and squared her shoulders. It was showtime.
When the three of them entered, silence fell into the Wizengamot room. Moody and she walked towards the elevated bench reserved for the Minister, the head of the DMLE, and Chief Warlock. She took her place in the middle and looked around the room. Everyone was watching her and there was a tense atmosphere in the room. Excellent.
"Today we have important matters to discuss," Madam Marchbanks announced, looking as impassive as ever.
"This is not a meeting to chitchat, but one to determine the future of the Ministry," Amelia said in an even tone that was carried around the room. "The Department of Mysteries and the Classified Archives were attacked on the 19th last month. Along with invaluable information and a few artefacts, nothing else was stolen or damaged aside from our reputation. We already know that Voldemort and his group of terrorists are behind the attack, so the next course of action is quite simple. I propose a state of martial law until the criminals are put to justice."
As expected, the room exploded.
She watched with dispassion the chaos in the room. People yelling, thinking that she would listen to them. Others were silent, analyzing the situation. Ah, there were also the ones panicking, namely Voldemort's followers. It was time to kill her heart and begin staging small yet convenient accidents. She was sure that Moody would gladly help. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Sirius was giving her his silent encouragement. Amelia would thank him later, now there was no space for any kind of emotion.
"Are we ready to continue?" the Chief Warlock asked in an even tone after casting an ear-splitting charm that reverberated throughout the room. "Or perhaps you need more time to squabble like children? Minister Bones, you have the word."
"As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, I propose a state of martial law for multiple reasons. First, Auror Moody is perhaps one of the most capable persons when dealing with Voldemort. However, the bureaucratic process makes his job much harder and time that we don't have will be wasted. Bureaucracy is in the way of our country's safety."
"You are stepping out of place, Minister Bones," Theodred Nott said without waiting to be given the word, not that she expected better. "Our country is managed by politics for a reason and we can no longer afford to drag our good name through the mud like-"
"Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me about that. Britain has turned into the laughing stock of the magical world because of the Tournament. Event that you voted for, am I wrong?" Amelia asked, not bothering to conceal her derisive tone. The old man simply clenched his jaw and glared at her. "Thank you for reminding me, Mister Nott. I almost forgot that the Delacour and Krum heirs are part of the competition and if something happens to them, Voldemort will be the least of our problems."
"Going back to the main matter, I believe Minister Bones' proposal is sound," Andra announced after Madam Marchbanks gave her the signal to speak. "During the last war, Auror Moody's methods are the ones that made the DMLE more effective. If it wasn't because of all the infiltrators in the Ministry, we would have won the war sooner and not waited for a baby to save us. We are still on time to act against the criminal before he turns into a serious threat."
"I, as a member of a Noble House and a pureblood, am torn in this matter," Lucius said with his usual theatrics. "As a proud member of this body, I want to aid in these hard times. However, as a father, I will do anything for the Dark Lord to be exterminated before my son gets dragged into this war. We already know his methods and soon, the Ministry will be attacked once again from the inside, just like last time. If we allow him more time to plan, I fear that the worse will happen."
"A martial law state will debase our authority. As a descendant of the Founding families, I can't allow that insult!" Yaxley bellowed, his face contorting in anger.
"May I ask what authority are you speaking about?" Augusta asked in a calm tone, her gaze fixated on the man. "The Longbottoms are also descendants of the founding families and, as far as I am concerned, we are the legislative body and have no authority beyond these walls. However, I am forced to ask the reason for this announcement, Minister. You are in a position to declare martial law and, in this situation, the Wizengamot would be unable to override your decision."
"I am aware," was Amelia's calm answer, "and I have my reasons. When the martial law is declared, this body will dissolve until the whole problem is dealt with. The reason I am making a public announcement is simply a matter of trust. All of the presents in the room are somehow responsible for the whole country, if we begin doing things behind our backs, sooner or later, the element of trust will be lost. If we cannot cooperate with each other, then who will protect our country? Will we allow this war to be fought by children once again? I lost enough because of the incompetence of the previous government, I refuse to follow their footsteps and condemn another generation. We lost enough."
Amelia watched with detached interest how the ones against her deflated. The emotional card was a dirty trick to play, she was aware. Everyone lost a loved one during the last war, everyone remembered how useless the Ministry was. It was enough to push most of the room to the place she wanted. Perfect.
With a sigh, she remembered she would have to actually get breakfast for Marcus for the next month. Damn brat and his strategic abilities. It was a shame that his plan had worked and she wasn't forced to use the intimidation factor. Truly a shame, especially when she noticed Carrow's glare and Nott's homicidal look.
"I believe it's time to vote," Madam Marchbanks announced. "Those in favour, light your wands."
One by one, wands were raised.
It was easy. Too easy. Amelia felt her gut contorting in an uncomfortable way and knew this victory wouldn't come free. Her instincts never failed her before and she felt her anxiety levels rising.
"I believe it is time for Auror Moody to-"
Whatever Madam Marchbanks was beginning to say was interrupted by a sudden earthquake. The floor shook violently and she feared that the whole chamber would collapse under the assault. Damn it!
As sudden as the earthquake came, it left, leaving scared and confused people in the room. The doors were blasted open and she pointed her wand at the intruders, only to lower it and running to them.
"What was that?" she hissed at the pale aurors.
"We don't know ma'am, it came from the lower levels," one said, paling further when he caught a glimpse of a serious Moody.
"Come on, we are going-"
"You have to come with us, sir," the shorter one said, his voice was shaky but his eyes were resolute. "There was a message left in the Atrium."
The minutes that she had to walk towards the Atrium were perhaps the tensest of her whole life. Aurors were running to and fro, not allowing for the workers to leave their places. Thinking about it, they were doing a bloody good job considering that the halls were empty aside from the random patrolling group they crossed.
Amelia crossed glances with Moody and knew he was feeling as apprehensive as she was. Who could leave a message in the Atrium in the middle of the day? Had Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry already? No, definitely not. This wasn't the kind of move that he would pull. This felt more like a warning, a reminder of their weakness.
Her train of thoughts was halted when they arrived at the empty Atrium.
Above the Fountain of Magical Brethren, there was a white glowing symbol. A phoenix and a basilisk in the centre of a complex sigil circle, looking as if they were about to fight. Only Marcus' steady hand on her forearm reminded her that she couldn't have a breakdown with so many witnesses present. This could not be happening, not another dark lord! She had more than enough with one bloody shit already.
She whipped her wand when she saw something descending and someone cast a shield around her. Amelia's heart was beating so fast she wondered if it would stop working once the whole ordeal was over. The small circle of light arrived at the floor and the light dissipated, leaving only different folders behind. No one dared to move.
Alastor took a deep breath and cast a detection charm to the stack. Clean. The man cast spell after spell while the other aurors watched in silence.
"It's clean. Keep the shields up."
Amelia took a deep break and approached the stack of parchments, her wand was ready, just in case. She levitated the single paper above the folders and read it from afar. Her eyes traced the words and she lost whatever colour was left in her face. This could not be happening!
"What happened in the lower levels?" she managed to ask in a voice that could barely be heard.
"We are still not sure ma'am, but it's totally destroyed. Most of the unspeakables in shift were found unconscious in the eighth floor, Shacklebolt's team transported them to the hospital. Everything below level eight is lost."
"Good," she managed to whisper and handed Moody the wrinkled note. When had she grabbed it?
"Clean the place but keep the patrolling teams up," she ordered to the auror closes to her, raising her voice so everyone could hear. "Not a word will be spoken about what happened here and no files will be written."
She looked at the glowing symbol, only to discover that it was gone. Well, at least it was one less thing to take care of.
"Do you think it's real?" Alastor whispered, holding the note with excessive force.
"I don't know. Shacklebolt will be in charge of examining what is left of the lower levels while we take a look at these papers."
An almost hysterical giggle left her chest. Yep, she was definitely right. The day sucked.