Night was deep, and the yellow streetlights of London shimmered indistinctly in the fog.

After a brief burst of noise, the British Ministry of Magic's lobby quickly returned to silence. Tonks sat behind the security desk, listlessly watching the empty, blue-gray hall, her head nodding uncontrollably, on the verge of falling asleep.

Barty Crouch sat upright at a table on the other side, his quill pen writing ceaselessly.

He was busy responding to letters of inquiry from various magical governments. After a brief explanation from Auror Director Scrimgeour, Crouch roughly understood the plans of that fool Cornelius Fudge: to compete for the spoils of victory in the crackdown on European werewolves. If he were the Minister of Magic, perhaps he would have made a similar decision?

The only difference was that at least he wouldn't leave behind a pile of mess and swagger across six or seven magical governments.

Crouch sighed lightly, reading through the reply to the Greek Ministry of Magic one last time before sealing the letter with a flick of his wand.

Around his desk were still several piles of dark red ashes. He had received more Howlers tonight than he had in a year.

Fortunately, judging from the itinerary of Cornelius Fudge and others, there shouldn't be any more Howlers.

Barty Crouch rubbed his aching wrist and looked up at the taciturn Auror leaning against the door not far away.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, he remembered clearly, was one of the few capable wizards in the Auror Office who had a chance to succeed Scrimgeour.

Compared to Dawlish, Moody, and others, Kingsley didn't favor any particular faction in the Ministry, but his reputation was surprisingly good. In Barty Crouch's view, if this young man were given more time and opportunities, he might even become a nominee in future ministerial elections.

Speaking of which, Kingsley was in the same year as his good-for-nothing son, wasn't he?

Perhaps due to a surge of drowsiness, Barty Crouch suddenly felt a little dazed.

If it hadn't been for that year...

"Is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Crouch?"

Kingsley's deep, resonant voice rang out, inquiring curiously, having noticed the gaze from the side.

Barty Crouch had found another reason for Kingsley's popularity. Compared to the other impetuous voices in the Ministry, Kingsley's voice contained a calming, reliable magic. More importantly, he truly had the ability to handle matters in an orderly manner.

Perhaps this was why Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour valued him so highly.

"Oh, well... Where's Mr. Scrimgeour?"

Barty Crouch shook his head, looking around, and discovered that the old lion-like Auror Director had left the hall unnoticed.

"Mr. Scrimgeour is patrolling the floors. He's worried someone might bypass the lobby fireplace and infiltrate the Ministry through other means."

"Infiltrate the Ministry? So you're really planning to stay on duty all night tonight?"

"It doesn't hurt to be cautious. Even without Professor Dumbledore's warning, I would have suggested it—most of the British Ministry of Magic's Aurors are now thousands of miles away. If there's a sudden situation in the country, at least we'll have room to respond. Besides..."

A sly smile bloomed on Kingsley Shacklebolt's dark skin.

"This is overtime, after all. I can rest at home tomorrow—night security is easier than an expedition in the Forbidden Forest."

"...The Minister might not be too happy to hear that."

Barty Crouch paused for half a second, his somewhat serious expression relaxing, and he shook his head with a smile.

"What do you think about Dumbledore's warning? Maybe a dark wizard is crazy enough to break into the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night?"

"It's best if it's a false alarm. If someone does break into the Ministry, we'll arrest them on the spot," Kingsley replied without hesitation.

"Arrest them on the spot? Relying on us... well, three or four people?" Mr. Crouch glanced at the young witch not far away, who was slumped on the table, seemingly dozing or already asleep, and couldn't help but twitch his lips, struggling to suppress the urge to wake her up.

When he was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he would never have tolerated such lazy youngsters in the Auror Office.

In fact, ever since learning that Dumbledore had specifically sent Cornelius Fudge a Howler, Barty Crouch had been somewhat uneasy.

He knew very well how many Death Eaters had escaped trial. If the dark forces really made a comeback, they wouldn't be able to hold out for long with just a few of them—although the Dark Lord and his followers had been more active abroad recently, the British magical world was ultimately the Dark Lord's base of operations. That was why Barty Crouch had chosen to stay in the Ministry of Magic lobby to chat after handling the letters, instead of going home.

"I'm a little worried. Dumbledore rarely acts so solemnly. What if there are too many intruders..."

"We're temporary night guards, not Gringotts goblin guards protecting the vaults—"

Kingsley shrugged, saying nonchalantly, "If we really encounter a dangerous situation, we'll just raise the alarm and leave. But I think you're completely overthinking it. It's already twelve o'clock, it's unlikely that..."

Just then, the smile on Kingsley's face suddenly sank, and he quickly drew his wand, looking ahead warily.

Boom!

Boom!

Boom!

The fireplaces on both sides of the originally silent Ministry of Magic lobby suddenly burst into rows of green flames.

"Who's there?!"

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Hooray!