The gentle sunlight soothed the earth, while a cool breeze carried away the smoke and dust.
On the drop-off platform, not only the Ministry of Magic's side but also the marchers and the spectators farther away all wore expressions of dazed loss.
Was that it?
They could hardly be blamed for thinking so.
The earth-shattering force radiating from the brothers' bodies as they had been about to explode had filled even those with little sensitivity to magic with a sense of impending doom.
Yet after Mr. Breen arrived, no one had even seen what he did before the crisis was over.
A black blur raced toward the center of the scene.
Sirius looked over warily, and his expression immediately softened.
Bang!
Harry crashed heavily into Sirius's arms. Father and son embraced beneath everyone's watchful eyes.
"Restrain all of them!"
Kingsley panted, pointing his cane at the marching crowd. Rarely had such obvious fury shown on his face.
The Hit Wizards moved at once, but Amosta stopped them.
"There's no need."
He left Harry and Sirius behind and walked toward Amelia.
"How are you, Amelia?"
"Not very well—"
Amelia drew her wand and cleaned the dust from herself. Then she tapped her head with it, and her disheveled hair obediently swept itself back into a bun.
One of her fingers was bent at an unnatural angle. It had probably been broken when the Hit Wizards tackled her to the ground.
Judging by her hesitant expression, she did not seem particularly skilled at treating injuries.
Amosta solved that small problem for her.
"Thank you—"
Amelia adjusted the monocle on the bridge of her nose. After a brief pause, she raised her voice.
"You've saved the Ministry of Magic again, Amosta. These Death Eaters are more cunning than I imagined—"
That was right.