Voldemort's prediction had been remarkably accurate. Amosta's remarks in the newspaper were like a boulder cast into a still lake, immediately stirring up a tremendous uproar.
Mornings at the Ministry of Magic were always bustling, whether in times of war or peace.
But today was different.
Every floor of the Ministry was shrouded in an eerie silence. Officials coming and going through the corridors wore anxious, unsettled expressions.
"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Office for the Misuse of Magic, Auror Headquarters, and the Wizengamot Administration Services."
The lift gates opened, and Sirius stepped out of the carriage into a corridor lined with doors on both sides.
False windows in the walls cast brilliant sunlight into the corridor, bathing it in light, but they could not dispel the unease hanging in the air.
Expressionless, Sirius walked down the corridor, rounded a corner, passed through two heavy oak doors, and arrived in a messy open space divided into countless cubicles. This was the famed Auror Office of the British wizarding world.
Ever since Voldemort's return, hordes of unsavory characters had flooded into the country through every possible channel, throwing public order into chaos.
The already overworked Aurors barely had a moment to rest, so there were hardly any people in the office.
Sirius entered the shared work area. Sure enough, he saw almost none of his colleagues, though the wizards seated behind the two supervisor desks immediately turned their eyes on him.
One of them was the nominal head of the Auror Office—Rufus Scrimgeour.
Scrimgeour's gaze met Sirius's for a moment before sliding away. He lowered his head and continued reading the newspaper in his hands, treating Sirius like thin air.
Sirius's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Because of Amosta, Scrimgeour had taken a particular dislike to him ever