The three followed Piero through several corridors decorated with ancient tapestries and magical portraits.
Most of the people in those portraits were famous figures in Italy's History of Magic, and their eyes seemed to follow the visitors' movements with scrutiny and curiosity.
Piero remained silent along the way, but as they passed a commemorative plaque honoring the historical contributions of werewolf control legislation-
He deliberately slowed his pace, casting Lupin a glance with his small, sharp eyes. A cold smile curled his lips, and his gaze brimmed with undisguised suspicion and contempt.
The Minister's Office occupied a secluded corner in the heart of the Ministry of Magic.
Piero stopped before a heavy oak door inlaid with the emblem of the Italian Ministry of Magic-a phoenix holding an olive branch in its beak.
The office was far more spacious and luxurious than Lorenzo's "disaster scene."
Beyond the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows lay a magically treated panorama of Rome, and sunlight streamed through the glass onto the marble floor, polished enough to reflect their faces.
Several oil paintings depicting ancient magical battles hung on the walls, giving off faint pulses of magic.
An enormous peachwood desk stood in the center of the room, with a man of about fifty seated behind it.
He was the Italian Minister of Magic, Massimo Alberti.
He had meticulously groomed silver-gray hair, a lean face, and deep-set eyes, and wore well-tailored dark green wizarding robes with his ancient family's crest embroidered on the hem.
Though his face bore the affable smile customary among politicians, Douglas could sense the shrewdness and caution hidden behind it.
Minister Alberti slowly rose, extending his hand with the precisely measured warmth peculiar to politicians:
"Professor Holmes, I've long heard of you. Those little disturbances you've stirred up in the United Kingdom's Wizarding World-