Amelia Bones was a pragmatic woman who rarely allowed her emotions to take control, but situations like this broke her stoic facade and made her hands itch with a desire to cause pain. She became an Auror to protect her people and the fact that even her best efforts were not enough was a heart-wrenching reminder of how fallible she was.

The attack on Maxime was unexpected, but that was no excuse. She should have known better and made plans for every eventuality. It was her responsibility. However, she failed once again.

She opened her eyes and observed the scene she already etched into her memory. The French Aurors were dead, along with two of her own. One was missing. If that was not enough, Maxime was murdered. Amelia looked to the side and glared at the body of the woman. Olympe Maxime was not a simple headmistress. To be murdered in such a brutal way she must have done something terrible or consorted with the wrong people. Her whole left arm was obliterated thanks to multiple bludgeoning curses, not to mention her body was unrecognizable, and only the size of the maltreated corpse gave away its identity. All in all, Amelia would have pitied her had the woman's mistakes not affected her people.

"Madam, we found him," Shacklebolt told her, interrupting her moment of self-loathing.

Amelia closed her eyes as traitorous tears threatened to fall. She took a deep breath in order to ease the suffocating pain in her chest... If Shacklebolt's tone was anything to go by, three of her Aurors were dead.

"State," she whispered, not willing to open her eyes and see pity in the man's eyes.

"Dead. Moody is already analyzing the scene."

The Minister took another deep breath, willing her throat to stop constricting and her eyes to stop prickling. 'It's not time to mourn.' That was the phrase she repeated to herself until she regained a vestige of the composure she was known for. A gentle hand patted her shoulder and she opened her eyes. Marcus was once again supporting her. Despite his youth, he proved to be beyond reliable and efficient. Without anyone else noticing, she took the calming draught that she was being offered and downed it in one gulp.

"Show us where you found him," Amelia ordered Kingsley, who nodded and approached the pair.

With a swift motion, three people arrived at a small clearing in a forest, where Aurors were analyzing the area. The tired woman took the scene in and closed her eyes, containing the agony that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Situation report," Marcus told someone.

"The attackers captured and tortured Alder," Moody began explaining. His voice was rougher than usual and it was not hard to conclude the emotional state of the man was not the most stable. "He bit his tongue off, so we presume they wanted information."

"Any ideas on the identity of the attackers?" Amelia asked, composing herself.

"These torture methods belong to the Lestranges, but it lacked their finesse-"

"We can't begin conjecturing ideas based on that," Dawlish interrupted Moody.

"I know their methods. I even experienced them on different occasions," Alastor said, not even looking at his subordinate. "I know their handiwork so well that I can even tell the three of them apart through it. But this time, it was not them... This was the work of five people, at least two of whom were trained by the Lestranges, but they are inexperienced if all the evidence they left behind is any indication... Although there is another possibility," the man said after a brief moment of indecision, "During the last war I wrote enough detailed reports about their methods for the Aurors to identify them through their victims and recognize the patterns of their attacks... The McKinnons were assassinated in a similar manner."

"Which means that someone could have gained information from the classified archives in the Ministry and emulated the attack," Amelia muttered as her eyes widened at the realization.

"That's my worst fear," Alastor confirmed with a nod. "The McKinnons were ambushed thanks to a spy we had in the Order. Marlene was tortured and assassinated in another location... The way Alder was tortured resembles the way she was. However, these attackers were sloppy, which means they'd had no previous practice. In any case, we're either dealing with new Death Eaters trained by the Lestranges or some copy-cats, and what worries me the most is that our main problem is not related to their identities. We need information about Maxime because this wasn't random; it was a well-planned and strategized ambush."

"This is a mess," Amelia said in a sigh. "What we need to know is why their portkey transported them to this location. Then, we need to question all the people who were in contact with the object and find out who manipulated the coordinates. The French Minister is already moving and she will send her own Aurors to help with the investigation. Also, we need to collect information about Maxime, but we need our own source."

"If I may, Minister, I can ask Fleur Delacour for help. Her father is the-"

"I know who he is... Are you sure you can contact him?" Amelia asked, frowning at the young man.

"I can try, and for now, that's our best option," Marcus answered with a sigh.

"You're right... I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter, though we will need to increase the security in the archives. I can take care of it, but I will need access to the files of the current and previous employees of the place."

"You have it already," Amelia informed the surprised young man. "If you didn't have the same clearance as I do, I would have to take care of all my paperwork."

The Minister gave a weak smile to her undersecretary and sighed once again. The day was long and she still had much to do. She swore to find those responsible for this attack and ensure they paid in blood for harming her people. To think this morning she enjoyed the first task, and now another sleepless night waited.

At least Sirius would be waiting for her and she could allow herself to be simply Amelia and not the Minister for Magic... Even if it was for an ephemeral moment.

Alastor Moody was not a man who lost his temper with ease. After all, an Auror incapable of controlling their emotions was a dead Auror.

He examined the crime scene and the corpses of his Aurors without complaint. He analyzed the area for any evidence he could collect and aided the specialized healers in collecting the bodies for examination. Once again, he did not utter a single word, but that did not mean he felt nothing.

Alastor entered his house after the torturous hours he spent observing the bodies of his fallen comrades. The man walked with silent, deliberate steps, despite the room distorting in a bizarre way and his legs threatening to give out. He walked until he reached the low table located in the middle of the living room. With a brusque movement, he threw the decorative vases off the table and proceeded to destroy his surroundings. The intense ire that was slowly consuming him turned into a sharp pain that made his heart constrict with every breath. Without noticing, Moody had collapsed on the ground and silent tears streamed down his face.

"It's okay, I'm here," a soothing voice whispered and the Auror noticed that a familiar person was hugging him. "You're in our home. You're safe," the voice whispered in an effort to comfort him.

"Three of the kids were murdered today," he murmured after what could have been hours or a single second. The person remained silent, but the embrace tightened. "It's my fault... I should have known that they would be attacked!" the man yelled as his breath quickened, the first sign of another anxiety episode about to take place.

"It's not your fault. Alastor. Look at me. It's not your fault," the person whispered, willing the other one to calm down. "You've saved so many lives, don't forget that."

"I should have known," the Auror whispered to himself. "After what happened to you, I swore to never fail again, but here we are..."

"You are not God and you've done more than enough," the person answered as Moody traced the visible scars that Bellatrix left more than a decade ago. "You're training all those Aurors to survive, you've almost lost your life multiple times to save your comrades, and you're the man who's captured the most Death Eaters. Alastor, you're going far beyond your duty."

"You always know how to calm me," the Auror said after a few minutes of silence, then winced when he looked at the mess he had left behind.

"After being married for twenty-three years, it would be a disaster if I didn't know how," the person tried to joke, smiling at their partner. "Come on, I made your favourite for dinner."

The days after the first task went by in a storm of emotions. From students ogling the champions and asinine rumours regarding the youngest competitor, to resentful glares being directed at the members of the Court. Overall, nothing new, but the intensity of this inconvenience escalated to the point the teachers decided to intervene. After all, what decent educator would watch from the sidelines as their charges were being harassed by troublesome students?

Minerva McGonagall stared at a group of her lions, who were gossiping animatedly with each other while casting furtive yet quite blatant glances at the Slytherin table. Well, to be specific, they were looking at Minerva's favourite student and his friends, something that she was not willing to tolerate. Ridiculous and borderline malicious rumours began surfacing after Harry Potter accomplished magnificent feats of magic. All the teachers decided to intervene because peer pressure was a lethal weapon and even the most resilient person could break while facing it. The boy was an exemplary student and it would be a crime to allow the banality, and dare she say envy of his peers to affect the innocent boy in a negative way.

One of the gossiping girls noticed the professor's stare and urged her friends to shut up while the colour drained from her face... Good, it seemed the Gryffindors took the stern woman's words to heart and, in that way, avoided the terrible punishments that she would hand out with a pleased smile.

Minerva observed the other tables and sighed, having to suppress a proud smile from surfacing and trying to ignore the sharp twinge of guilt.

The students no longer sat with their respective Houses during all meals as they had in the past. Now, you could see members of different Houses sitting with their friends, no longer secluding themselves with the people of their own House... This sight was something she wished to see for decades, but had no hopes of seeing it happen until Harry Potter appeared. That young boy wrecked Hogwarts' status quo, moulding it into what it had become and what it would hopefully continue as for generations.

She would never forget the day when the Weasley twins began sitting at the Slytherin table. As a matter of fact, she doubted anyone in the school would ever forget. Gryffindors sharing with Slytherins - the notion was as ridiculous as acromantula and basilisks cuddling. However, what was even more surprising was the way the Slytherins took that bizarre situation - as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Professors stared, speechless, and students pinched themselves in disbelief, but that group remained unaffected.

Nevertheless, that was not her greatest worry. Fred and George Weasley were the biggest troublemakers the school had the misfortune of having, giving the Marauders a run for their money despite being half the number and a year younger. To her great shame, she admitted being worried about them leading her prized student astray. Now though, despite their youth, George Weasley received offers for apprenticeships from Head Healer Abbot and Professor Dobrev, and Fred Weasley had an offer from Master Hira, the personal brewer of the Asian Emperor. The troublemakers she remembered with fondness and ever-present exasperation matured into dependable young men who had a promising future waiting for them.

Minerva McGonagall was a proud woman, which she admitted was her greatest flaw. For a long time, she knew of the prejudice and borderline harassment the Slytherins suffered. However, she pretended it did not exist because, if it did, she would have become the villain of the story when they were supposed to occupy that role. Her eyes were violently opened when Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin.

She expected him to be a troublemaker and a lacklustre student in the best of the cases... Reality had slapped her back to her good senses during that first class, however, when Lily's eyes shone through her son, channelling that unique spark that appeared in James' eyes whenever he encountered a challenge. Harry Potter proved that being a Slytherin did not equal being evil. To this day, she felt shame for her harsh treatment toward all Slytherin students, but she would never commit the same mistakes again.

The old woman looked at the young man sitting beside her and she had to smile. Marcus Travers was another troublemaker with exceptional grades that the only Potter had somehow managed to guide onto the right path. Now, he became the youngest undersecretary in history and she was sure other impressive titles would soon join.

She eyed the throne-like seat for a brief second and sighed. Albus had not been feeling well for a few days, and despite their friendship souring over the last few years, she still cared about the man. Deciding to stop procrastinating, Minerva stood up and silence descended on the great hall with no need to call order.

"Good evening. You may have noticed we have a guest at the staff table and many older students may remember him. Please, let's welcome the senior undersecretary, Marcus Travers," she announced and waited a few moments for the applause to stop. "The reason why Mister Travers is here is to give a special announcement. If you would," she said, smiling at the student that turned into an exemplary man.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Marcus said, his deep voice resounding through the hall. "As you know, the Trischool Tournament involves multiple tasks for the champions. However, there is a tradition within the competition for a Yule Ball to take place. This event is meant to give the champions a night of amusement and frivolity. It will take place on the seventeenth of December, the day before you leave the castle for your holidays, in order to not interfere with any plans you may have during those days. All the students from fourth year up are allowed to attend as long as they wish to and the younger students will be able to attend if they are invited by any older student. However, let me say this: while the Yule Ball is a tradition, it is not obligatory for any student to assist."

"We're announcing this a few weeks ahead of the event so that students who wish to attend have enough time to select their attire and, if they wish to, ask another student to be their date for the night," Minerva continued once Marcus nodded at her. "Another important detail I have to announce concerns all the students. Yule is a time for family, thus, Minister Bones arranged special portkeys for all those international students who wish to be with their families. All you have to do is speak with any of the Heads of Houses and your portkey will be arranged. Also, Madam Maxime returned to France for personal reasons. Her substitute, Professor Valentin Vaugrenard, will take her place and act as interim Headmaster. He will be arriving today before dinner, so I expect all of you to help him in his new role and be on your best behaviour."

Once Minerva sat down again, whispers spread through the students like wildfire. Many were excited about the ball, others talked about what happened to Maxime, and a select few wondered if McGonagall had planned the announcements in advance in order to control the students' reactions... They were not wrong.

The old woman waited until most of the students were gone in order to bid Marcus a warm farewell, along with a few chosen words for the young man to take care of himself.

"He's matured since he graduated," Filius commented, smiling at the retreating figure of the undersecretary.

"He has," Minerva agreed, "I still remember when he flew like a professional in his first year."

"It would have been more impressive had he not then lost control of his broom and fallen into the Black Lake," Rolanda commented, her usually severe expression softened with a smile. "Look at him now..."

"So many things have changed," Pomona muttered with a sigh, looking with fondness at the few students who were still in the hall. "If someone would have told me that the prejudice between the students would disappear, I would have slapped them to return them to their good sense... It's almost impossible to believe how different everything is."

"And we all know how it began," Aurora added, smirking at the Transfiguration teacher. "Minerva almost had a heart attack when the Weasley twins sat at the Slytherin table, speaking with Mister Potter as if it was the most normal thing in the world... Thinking about it, Severus' brain stopped working for a few minutes."

"Well, I think that day all of us reacted in a rather undignified way," Filius commented before the Potions teacher could. "In any case, that was the day students began experimenting and sat with their friends from other Houses... I still remember a particular event that took place last year; it was the day I noticed everything had changed."

"So what happened, Filius? Don't leave us with unsatisfied curiosity," Pomona urged her co-worker.

"Nothing scandalous or spectacular, just a simple detail that made me realize that the animosity between Houses was a thing of the past," he commented, smirking when Sprout was about to ask for more information and deciding to continue explaining. "It was the second day of school and I had classes with the fifth-years. Miss Selwyn was late for class and no one had seen her. When she arrived, she apologized and was willing to serve any punishment that I saw fit. As you can remember, she was never the meek kind, so I was worried and asked her to stay after class."

"What happened?" Septima asked as her eyebrows rose in curiosity.

"She was helping the first-years along with the Slytherin prefects who were assigned to that task for the day and lost track of time, as simple as that," the short man narrated as a fond smile spread on his lips. "I was surprised because no one had that idea before, so I spoke with the Head Boy and Girl in order to know what other things had been implemented. Apparently, it was an initiative from the Slytherins because neither Miss Rivers nor Mister Boot had any idea of what I was speaking about. Then, I spoke with the first years... I was pleasantly surprised and terribly ashamed when they sang the praises of the Slytherins because they had been kinder than their own housemates."

"Thinking about it, I also noticed how the new students followed the Slytherins as if they were puppies," Pomona muttered, furrowing her brow. "Miss Bones was also hostile towards the Hufflepuff prefects because they weren't doing their duty, though I'd believed she was exaggerating."

"Now that we're talking about it," Charity added, frowning at the table. "I noticed that the prefects in all Houses began taking their duties more seriously. I also remember the Slytherin prefects, Miss Selwyn in particular, helping all the students who needed it. As a matter of fact, yesterday evening she was talking with Miss Brown in order to help her improve her grades."

"Who would have imagined that capricious child would turn into the dependable teenager we're seeing today," Minerva murmured as her eyes softened.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this deep moment," Isabelle said after clearing her throat, "but you're making me feel old and I'm not even thirty yet."

"One day you'll be in our shoes, even if you don't continue as a teacher," Filius said, smiling at the young woman.

"Seeing that none of your Defence professors lasted more than a year, I'm willing to be the first one," Isabelle answered, smirking at her amused colleagues.

"You won't last long if we arrive late," Mister Albee told the woman and signalled the clock.

Isabelle cursed under her breath and dragged her assistant with her to their next class.

"Things are indeed changing."