Amelia's last protest—"Even still, you're children!"—hung thinly in the smoke-choked air.
Cassius did not answer this time.
He had already said enough.
It was Sirius who moved.
Not abruptly.
Not angrily.
But with a kind of deliberate ease that shifted the balance of the space without anyone quite realizing how.
Sirius Black stepped slightly ahead of Cassius, placing himself—not protectively—but strategically between the students and the Head of Magical Law Enforcement.
His posture relaxed.
Shoulders loose.
Hands open at his sides.
The image of a man entirely in control.
"Amelia," he began, voice smooth but edged with iron, "you and I both know this isn't about their age."
Amelia Bones didn't flinch, but her eyes sharpened.
"Isn't it?"
"No." Sirius gestured subtly toward the rows of white sheets. "It's about optics."
A murmur of wind stirred ash across the ruined field.
"You have nearly two dozen dead civilians," Sirius continued evenly. "And nearly as many dead Death Eaters, most likely purebloods as always. Half your department was caught flat-footed. The only organized resistance on site engaged decisively."
He tilted his head slightly.
"And that resistance happened to include students."
Amelia's jaw tightened.
"They are minors."
"They are trained," Sirius countered immediately. "Extensively. More than half the Aurors who fled at the first explosion, while they instead dove right in instead."
That landed.
A flicker of irritation crossed her face—not at him, but at the truth embedded in the words.
Sirius pressed on, but his tone remained measured.
"They didn't seek a fight. They responded to Killing Curses aimed at innocents." He nodded toward the scorched earth. "You saw it yourself."
"I saw excessive force."
"You saw lethal force meet lethal force."
Silence stretched between them.
Behind Sirius, the girls stood in a quiet line.
Soot-streaked.
Steady.
Watching without interrupting.
Sirius glanced back at them briefly before returning his attention to Amelia.
"You know what would have happened if they'd hesitated."
Amelia didn't answer.
Because she did know.
More white sheets.
More grieving families.
More headlines displaying innocent deaths at the hands of Voldemorts followers.
"They didn't use the Unforgivables," Sirius continued. "They didn't torture. They didn't make a spectacle. They ended active threats."
His voice lowered slightly.
"And they did it faster than your perimeter could be re-established."
That was the core of it.
The uncomfortable center.
Amelia exhaled slowly.
"You're asking me to condone vigilantism."
"No," Sirius replied calmly. "I'm asking you to acknowledge battlefield reality."
The word battlefield again.
It carried weight.
"You can investigate," Sirius added. "You can document every spell cast. You can review every body."
His gaze hardened almost imperceptibly.
"But if you decide to prosecute the only people who stood their ground tonight, you will be telling every capable witch and wizard in Britain to stand down next time, to simply accept the death coming for them without even trying to fight for their own lives."
The implication was clear.
Stand down.
Let it happen.
Amelia's fingers tightened around the rim of her monocle.
The fires were nearly out now.
Healers were moving the last of the wounded toward temporary porting stations.
Aurors had begun sealing off the perimeter with layered wards.
The chaos was stabilizing.
The political consequences were only beginning.
"You're very certain of yourself," Amelia said quietly.
Sirius allowed a faint, humorless smile.
"No. I'm very certain of them."
He gestured slightly toward Cassius.
"He didn't hesitate because he's reckless. He didn't hesitate because he assessed the threat and made the call."
Amelia studied Cassius for a long moment.
Fourteen years old.
Soot on his collar.
Steady eyes.
No trembling hands.
Not euphoric.
Not shaken.
Just aware.
"You gave the order?" she asked him.
"Yes."
"And you would again?"
"Yes."
No bravado.
Just clarity.
Amelia's gaze shifted to the girls.
"Any of you regret it?"
Hermione's voice came first, quiet but firm.
"I regret that it was necessary."
Daphne inclined her head slightly. "But not that we acted."
Astoria's expression remained cool. "They were killing families."
No hysteria.
No defiance.
Just resolve.
Amelia looked back at Sirius.
"You understand the precedent this sets."
"I understand the message tonight already set," Sirius replied. "The Dark Mark over the World Cup. That message wasn't subtle, if you're that worried about it just keep their involvement out of the reports, just some kids who got lost in the chaos and returned later than everyone else by the combined security forces."
The sky above them was empty now, the Mark fully dispersed, but its ghost seemed imprinted on memory.
Amelia removed her monocle again, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then—
"Very well."
It wasn't approval.
It wasn't praise.
But it was a decision.
"There will be an inquiry," she said. "There always is."
Her gaze locked onto Cassius.
"But it will examine conduct in totality. Not selectively."
That was as close to vindication as the Ministry would ever phrase it.
Sirius inclined his head slightly.
"Fair."
Amelia turned sharply toward a pair of waiting Aurors.
"Prepare a Portkey. London terminus. Immediate authorization."
The Aurors moved at once.
She faced Cassius and the girls again.
"You will return home. Now." Her voice softened only marginally. "You've done enough for one night."
Cassius gave a short nod.
Within minutes, an Auror approached carrying an old brass compass mounted on a chain.
"Portkey to London Ministry atrium," he said formally. "Departs on my mark."
The field behind them was still dotted with bodies and healers, but order had replaced chaos.
Sirius stepped closer to Cassius.
"Grimmauld Place after," he said quietly.
Cassius nodded.
Home.
12 Grimmauld Place would be quieter.
Contained.
For now.
The girls gathered around, each placing a hand on the cold metal compass.
Sirius joined them at the edge but did not touch it.
"I'll follow," he said.
Amelia watched, arms folded.
"On my mark," the Auror repeated.
The night air felt heavy.
Ash drifted like snow.
"Three."
Cassius glanced once more across the ruined campgrounds.
Victory banners reduced to cinders.
Celebration turned to memory.
War made undeniable.
"Two."
He met Sirius's eyes briefly.
A silent understanding passed between them.
"One."
The Portkey activated with a violent jerk.
The world snapped sideways.
Smoke and ruin vanished.
And London rushed up to meet them.
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