Idiot!
The moment Amosta closed the door, locked it, and turned around, he could almost hear Bellatrix cackling those words from inside the room.
But Amosta was not angry. If anything, a heavy weight showed between his brows.
He sighed softly, then started walking.
He followed the fourth-floor corridor toward another branch. Before long, the torches along the walls brightened, and he arrived outside the Hospital Wing, which remained bustling despite the late hour.
Aside from Harry, all the young wizards who had boldly stormed the Ministry of Magic tonight were in the common ward.
Although they had gone through a fierce battle during the first half of the night, the students lying in the beds were all in fairly good spirits.
Frank and Alice were talking with Neville, while Arthur was keeping his three sons and one daughter company.
Luna was chattering to Hermione in the next bed about something called "Tremorslime." Hermione looked rather helpless.
From time to time, she glanced toward the ward where Harry and Dumbledore were, and occasionally cast furtive looks at Ron and Neville, a trace of envy flickering in her eyes.
The little Vampire who had rendered considerable service tonight was not here. She had presumably returned to her dungeon.
It was difficult for her to rest in this environment.
Meanwhile, Madam Pomfrey was busy in her small office with an assortment of bottles and jars, seemingly preparing blood-replenishing potions for the students. Minerva was helping her.
Overall, the atmosphere was cheerful.
After all, they had won a battle tonight.
The results far surpassed anything before. Even the Battle of Diagon Alley had not been this satisfying. Voldemort's forces had been uprooted tonight.
As far as they were concerned, it was over.
But it was not over for the Ministry of Magic, Amosta,