To the hospital wing of Hogwarts, the headmaster, the shocked Potter, and I left by the fireplace from the Ministry Atrium. Strangely enough, Madam Pomfrey, who immediately came out to us, found only severe exhaustion in everyone, plus a minimal amount of various minor injuries. I was hurt, too, and mostly not from spells, but from becoming a projectile that ploughed the stone floor and the benches in the hall with the archway.

Dumbledore easily managed to convince Madam Pomfrey that we didn’t need any special treatment and that we needed to talk in his office urgently. Reluctantly, Madam Pomfrey let us go, reproaching us for our irresponsible attitude toward our health.

“What about the others?” as if waking up for a moment from his depressed and broken state, Potter spoke.

“They will be brought by people from the Order,” the Headmaster replied soothingly as we walked through the corridors of the castle.

“And Sirius? What about Sirius? He’s not allowed into Hogwarts…”

“Sirius has someone to take care of him at Headquarters as well.”

“But…” Potter wanted to be indignant but was immediately interrupted by just one serious look from the Headmaster.

“If Sirius hadn’t left headquarters and tried to constantly violate security regulations, nothing would have happened. Wouldn’t it, Mr. Potter?”

He had nothing to answer, and we got to the headmaster’s office in silence.

The darkness of night had no power over the office, lit by the fire in the fireplace and the bright glare of the open cabinet with the Pensieve. Dumbledore reached the chair behind his desk and sat down, letting the emotion of physical relief show on his face for a second. But he didn’t let himself relax for long, gesturing for us to sit in the chairs opposite and leaning on his left arm.

Potter looked tired and exhausted, and the abrasions and various external injuries gave him the appearance of some ragamuffin from the street.

“You took the prophecy, didn’t you, Mr. Potter?” the headmaster asked, looking at the guy.

Harry glanced at me briefly but decided that since the headmaster was asking about it in my presence, then it was okay.

“Yes, Headmaster. When we ended up in the Hall of Prophecy, I noticed it almost immediately…”

“Among many others?”

“Yes, Headmaster. As soon as I picked it up, the Death Eaters appeared immediately, dragging Sirius behind them. Barty Crouch, I mean Jr., was clearly leading them. They demanded the prophecy in exchange for Sirius and his life… Why, Headmaster? Couldn’t they have taken it themselves?”

“You see, Mr. Potter,” the Headmaster tried to sit up more comfortably but only achieved a slight pain, judging from his face. “The prophecy records are arranged in such a way that only the one about whom the prophecy is about can take them. So, what happened to the prophecy?”

“Voldemort took it,” Harry clenched his fists. “I… I can’t figure out how I ended up there myself…”

” You, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore managed, even in such a gloomy and not the most illuminated atmosphere, to flash the half-moon spectacles that he put on who knows when. “You fell out right in the middle of our fight in the apparation funnel.”

“Wait, what?” I couldn’t contain my surprise. “Isn’t the entire Ministry protected from apparation?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Knight,” Dumbledore nodded. “But I think I know the reason for this.”

“May I ask?”

“Perhaps, but first, I would like to ask Mr. Potter what forced him to apparate, and when did he acquire such curious skills?”

” Um…” Harry didn’t hesitate, no. He just stared at the headmaster’s desk, trying to formulate his thoughts. “The guys and I have been practicing different spells…”

At that moment, the flames in the fireplace lit up green, and the headmaster and I pulled out our wands almost simultaneously but made no other movements. Moody came out of the flames, tapping his staff on the floor and cheerfully moving towards the vacant chair next to us.

“Mordred knows what…” he exclaimed, limping.

As soon as Alastor sat down heavily in a chair, straightening his prosthetic leg, he immediately reached into his bosom, taking out a flask from there — the smell of alcohol immediately spread through the office. After taking a couple of sips and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, the old auror looked at us.

“What are you staring at? We didn’t catch anyone. Those bastards worked the getaway like never before. I wouldn’t be surprised if Crouch was developing the operation. May the devils roast him in hell for eternity.”

“Are you a believer?” asked Potter immediately.

” No, Harry,” Alastor shook his head. “But I fucking love the idea of such an afterlife for these creatures.”

“Alastor,” the Headmaster looked reproachfully at Moody, but the latter only brushed him off. “You were breaking the defenses, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, we were breaking while you and that rascal Fletcher, who is only good to get somewhere, were unraveling the blocking of fireplaces. We were just about past the defenses,” Moody took another sip of his swill, putting the flask back, “when the defenses suddenly collapsed. Well, we had one last push left. That’s when it came down on our own ministerial defense.”

“Just as I thought,” the headmaster nodded. “That’s what broke the anti-apparation barrier.”

“Then why didn’t everyone apparate from there, and there, too?” I couldn’t understand the situation.

“And why didn’t you do it yourself?”

I thought about it. Indeed, why didn’t I apparate, although now I could accurately recall the changed magic? Well, my protection did not mean the isolation of those inside — even I, when I took it off, first began to pass through the shields.

“I don’t know. Somehow I got used to the idea that you can’t apparate at Hogwarts and the Ministry.”

“It’s the same story here,” the Headmaster nodded. “Back to Mr. Potter and his reasons for apparating. We’re listening to you….”