HP: The Duelist of Hogwarts - 446

Chapter 446: The Black Hat Council

At first, Amelia’s words sounded a little strange, but Sean quickly understood what she meant.

“So,” he said, “it seems you have already heard something about your future from other sources, and now you want to use that to test whether or not I can truly see what is to come. Is that right?”

Amelia gave a small nod. “I want to see whether the future is really impossible to change.”

“Of course, the future can be changed,” Sean said. “It is just… not easy.”

He moved to the chair beside her and sat down, then held out his hand. “May I borrow yours for a moment, Madam Bones?”

“Of course.”

Amelia laid her hand in his palm.

The moment their skin met, Sean drew in a slow breath and closed his eyes. When he let it out again and opened them, a milky haze had risen to fill his gaze. Scenes from Amelia’s future flickered through his mind.

Amelia, leading a fierce resistance against Death Eaters who had taken the Ministry.

Amelia, rallying a large number of Ministry employees from non‑pure‑blood families.

Amelia, having gained the upper hand and standing on the verge of taking the Ministry back.

Amelia, facing Umbridge’s howling hatred, swept her wand aside with contemptuous ease.

And finally, Amelia, on the road to Hogwarts, was ambushed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, fighting them to a standstill before, at last, falling beneath Voldemort’s wand.

Sean’s eyes slowly cleared. He took out a vial of potion and let two drops fall into each eye. Then he looked at Amelia and smiled.

“I saw you come within a hair’s breadth of becoming Minister for Magic, Madam Bones.”

Amelia smiled faintly, not at all surprised. Her earlier prophecy had included a similar fragment. And it was not what she wanted to know. So she pressed on.

“And after that, Sean?” she asked. “What then?”

“Then,” Sean said quietly, “because you had taken back control of the Ministry and ruined Voldemort’s plans, he led a force in person to block your way to Hogwarts. You killed a great many Death Eaters, but in the end, you still died by his hand.”

Amelia held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Your prophecy is very accurate,” she said. “More precise than the one I heard before. So you reached the same conclusion. That means I cannot escape the fate of dying to Voldemort, can I?”

“No,” Sean said. “You will escape it—as long as you do not step forward to take the Ministry back. If you stay in the background, Voldemort will not risk exposing himself just to come after you.”

“So what you are really suggesting,” Amelia said evenly, “is that I stand by and watch while Voldemort takes control of the Ministry from the shadows.”

“Of course not.”

Sean’s voice sharpened.

“Madam Bones, there’s a simple truth: to gain, you have to be willing to give first.”

“If we want to reform the Ministry from the ground up, if we want Voldemort to suffer a true, crushing defeat, then we must first hand the Ministry to him. Only once he and his Death Eaters believe they own it will they relax their guard. Only then will it be time for us to move and take it back.

“And when we do, that is when we clean house properly. That is when those pure‑blood fanatics are forced to face reality—or else scurry off to join the Death Eaters and live out their lives as rats in the dark, damp sewers where they belong.”

Amelia studied him, something complicated moving in her eyes. At last, she inclined her head.

“This is your plan, then?” she asked. “And for its sake, you are willing to sit and watch while Sirius Black and Harry Potter, and even Dumbledore himself, become fugitives? Targets everyone is expected to hunt down?”

Sean gave a soft laugh.

“As expected of the famous Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The news has barely broken, and you have already deduced half the truth about me. There is only one small mistake.”

He paused, then went on.

“Dumbledore knows I received certain information. When he saw that I did not bring it to him, he understood that I had a separate plan, one that stands apart from the Order of the Phoenix. So he did not ask any questions. He simply followed his own steps.”

Sean smiled faintly. “You could call it a sort of tacit understanding between us.”

“An impressive understanding,” Amelia said. “One that many people would envy.”

“Thank you, Madam Bones. I believe you, and I will come to share something similar soon enough.”

“I hope so,” she replied.

With that, she rose and left the chamber with Scrimgeour at her side.

Watching her go, Marchbanks could not help but sigh. “The Bones family has truly produced talent in this generation,” she said. “It is a pity that, in the last war against Voldemort, they were reduced to a single Amelia. Otherwise, the Bones name might already stand among the greatest pure‑blood houses.”

“So long as Madam Bones survives,” Sean said quietly, “the Bones family will flourish in time. Of that, I am certain.”

Dorian gave a dry chuckle. “You brat. Sounds like you have seen something, have you?”

Sean shrugged a little and nodded. “I have seen a glimpse, yes. At the end of the prophecy, I saw the future bend and twist. There was only a single image left: a family portrait. An elderly Madam Bones surrounded by the descendants of the House of Bones. It was a large family.”

They fell silent for a moment.

Then Ogden cleared his throat. “Sean,” he said, “what do you need from us?”

“For now,” Sean replied, “I need you not to clash with the other side. Keep your heads down. Endure. In about a year, the situation will start to turn. When that time comes, I will call you. When I do, I hope that whatever happens, you will follow my instructions without hesitation. If you do, I can promise that we will be able to overturn this entire mess and the dire position we are in now.”

Marchbanks and the others—old friends of Gavin—studied him.

After a long pause, they all raised their teacups. Marchbanks spoke for them.

“We will do as you say,” she said. “We believe you. When the time comes, if there is any use for us old relics, you need only give the word.”

“Good,” Sean said. “Then I will not stand on ceremony, Madam Marchbanks. Nor with any of you.”

That night, the currents stirring in the Ministry of Magic and Knockturn Alley went unnoticed by the wider wizarding world. What they saw was the front page of the Daily Prophet the following morning.

Sirius Black and Harry Potter, it reported, had broken into the Ministry at midnight and assassinated Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge. Dolores Umbridge, the Undersecretary, had led Aurors and officials to the scene and captured them.

Dumbledore, it went on, had arrived and rescued the two suspects. All three were now wanted by the Ministry on charges of murdering the former Minister, and the Order of the Phoenix, described as an illegal organisation, was likewise to be hunted down along with all its members.