A week after Sirius Black and Remus Lupin reported for duty at the Ministry, Vinda Rosier burst into the room, her face etched with urgency as she clutched a sheaf of parchments.
"Argus, trouble in Germany and Austria," she said grimly. "Our agents there have been rounded up by their Ministries of Magic. They claim our shops stock Dark Arts artifacts. Everything's been shut down, and our people are in custody."
Argus's jaw tightened. "Didn't they just lift the restrictions on the acolytes? And now this?"
He rose and stared out the window, fists clenched. "Aunt Vinda, it's been three years since we left Austria."
Vinda's eyes sharpened with understanding. "You want to go back?"
"It's time to reconnect with old allies." Argus's voice hardened as memories flooded in—of Ministry hunters chasing him through shadowed streets as a boy. A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Do they really think the acolytes are still the scattered remnants they once hounded?"
Vinda nodded. "Should we gear up?"
"No need. I'd like to visit Nurmengard myself. It's been too long—I miss him."
Her mouth quirked in a knowing smile. "I'll pass my duties to Hermione, then. She'll be swamped, but Uncle Abernathy can assist. She's sharp, but those pure-bloods could be ruthless."
"Agreed. We'll depart for Austria tomorrow."
...
In the Austrian Ministry of Magic, Minister O'Leary—a burly man with a thick beard—lounged in his office chair, legs crossed smugly.
"Those mangy acolytes slinking back after all this time?" he scoffed. "Fat chance."
His subordinate, a lanky sycophant, nodded eagerly. "You've outmaneuvered them brilliantly, sir. Forcing the Wizengamot to ease up was just the opener—we'll crush them our way."
O'Leary puffed on his pipe, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "How's the operation going?"
The man produced a parchment. "Their goods are confiscated, locked in the vaults. Charges: illegal Dark Arts items. Our people are in interrogation—no issues."
"Good. But tread lightly; the Wizengamot pushed for this leniency. We seize assets, not lives. Tarnish their name, and they'll wither here."
The minister eyed him appraisingly. "The Transport Director's retiring soon. Handle this clean, and the post's yours. Remember who got you here."
Excitement flickered in the man's eyes. "You, Minister. I'm your man—loyal to the end." He leaned in to relight the pipe.
O'Leary grunted approval. "What about that informant?"
"He claims the acolytes' latest shipment was just a probe—supplies are back in England. But I smell a lie. How could they afford all this if they fled broke?"
The minister frowned, tapping ash from his pipe. "The acolytes have prospered in Britain. We've ignored old grudges before—assassins sent, no full war. But if blood spills now, negotiations die."
The subordinate masked his scorn. "Hypocrite. After all those hits?" Out loud: "I'll press him for their next move and loop in the German Ministry for a test probe. As for the goods..."
"Hold them. See how the acolytes react first."
"Yes, sir."
...
The next day, Nurmengard loomed under a chill summer sky, its towers piercing low clouds. No warmth reached the ancient gates, only a biting wind.
With a crack of Apparition, Argus and Vinda materialized. Three years prior, Argus had been a scrawny lad, clinging to Vinda for the journey. Now, nearly her height, he stepped forward alone, tracing the weathered stone as nostalgia gripped him.
"For the greater good," he murmured, the old slogan echoing through history. His palm pressed the hidden mechanism; the doors creaked open after years of silence.
Vinda followed into the drafty hall, where wind whistled like ghosts. Argus smoothed his robes, unwilling to appear rumpled. Vinda, sensing his pride, fussed over his collar with a maternal smile—just as before.
The castle's interior was frozen in time: dust motes danced in faint light, corridors unchanged. Argus navigated by memory, every creak and shadow familiar from childhood explorations.
High heels clicked ahead—hers, echoing sharply. They approached the inner chamber untouched for three years.
There, unchanged as ever, stood a figure with flowing white hair. Argus's face lit with a genuine smile.
"Long time no see, Gellert."
---
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