In her years working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she had encountered more than a few people who had been acting due to coercion, people who has a secret that someone else knew and who was prepared to do anything to keep it quiet.
Severus Snape was a prime example of this, and Amelia had good reason to believe that Mundungus Fletcher could well have been in the same spot.
Her musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in," she called out.
The door opened and her secretary, Helen, entered the office.
"Ma'am? The Minister is here to see you."
'Of course' she thought bitterly before nodding her head.
"Let him in."
Cornelius Fudge was in full blustering mode when he entered. Amelia did not relish being the one who had to tell him everything.
"Amelia, we need some damage control out here," the portly man said as he began pacing back and forth in front of her desk. "We've hot howlers from angry parents exploding all over the place, there are parents here who are just about ready to string up the next Ministry official they see and we've got more journalists skulking about than there were at Lucius Malfoy's trial at the end of the war."
"There is very little that I can do about that right now, Minister," she replied evenly. "Between searching and securing Hogwarts, guarding St Mungo's, guarding are prisoners and digging through anything and everything that might help us get answers out of said prisoners, my Aurors and Law Enforcement Officers are stretched thin enough as it is."
"Amelia, I'm afraid that you don't quite understand the severity of the situation," protested Fudge. "I've never seen the wizarding population as angry as they are today, and more and more of them keep arriving. A riot could break out at any second-"
Just then the door burst open and Helen came back into the room, looking terrified. "Minister! Madam Bones! There's a riot happening down in the atrium!"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" snapped Amelia as she stood up and drew her wand, flicking it to produce a dozen patronuses at once, each one a badger.
"Message for all Auror Personnel, report to the atrium immediately to deal with a riot. Law Enforcement Officers, remain where you are."
As the silvery badgers sped off in different directions, Amelia began making her way to the atrium.
Mould-on-the-Wold was a small village in Warwickshire, England. It was named for both the fact that it was located near the Cotswolds Hills and the fact that it was in general a damp, dank and mouldy place to live.
Between 1820 and 1890, Mould-on-the-Wold had become an important place to wizards. The general unpleasantness of the area meant that many muggles would up and leave the village whether they had anywhere else to go or not.
Wizards, who had magical means of dealing with the damp and the mould, did not mind living in Mould-on-the-Wold and before long it became quite a fashionable place to live. It was quiet and out of the way, and the relatively small number of muggle residents made it easier to practice magic without risking breaking the Statute of Secrecy.
In fact, by 1890, it would have taken only five more muggle families to move out and five wizarding families to move in for Mould-on-the-Wold, and the place would have become the second all-wizarding settlement in the UK, after Hogsmeade in Scotland.
Unfortunately, in 1891, there was an incident involving several muggle children, a pre-Hogwarts aged witch and her father. The result was that Ariana Dumbledore's magic was forevermore disrupted, five muggle children were mentally scarred for life, two muggle children would never walk again, Percival Dumbledore would spend the rest of his days in a cell in Azkaban and the rest of his family, including his sons Albus and Aberforth, moved away to Godric's Hollow.
The last muggles vacated Mould-on-the-Wold. The obliviators and magic-reversal squad had both done their best to reverse the damage done, but the muggles were left convinced that the village was an evil place.
The attack left its mark on the wizarding world as well. Mould-on-the-Wold was no longer a fashionable place for wizards to live and within five years all had left.
For ninety-nine years, Mould-on-the-Wold had been abandoned. No one came here anymore. Any roads that led to it had long since broken up and disappeared and the houses were slowly falling apart. The surrounding forest grew ever closer, and slowly but surely nature was reclaiming its old ground.
Which is why the local family of foxes had been utterly surprised when, just a few hours ago in the middle of the night, a ball of fire had appeared in the air in the middle of the village. Perhaps even more of a surprise was that, when the flames had burnt out, a man had been left standing there. A man dressed in utterly outlandish purple robes with golden suns, stars and moons on them which were matched by high-heeled boots and a pair of half-moon spectacles.
There was also a large bird on his shoulder, red feathered with a long, golden tail.
Since his arrival, the man had entered one of the houses and had been busy using his magic to restore it into something that was mildly habitable.
The wizards had mostly forgotten about Mould-on-the-Wold, and Albus Dumbledore suspected that even his brother Aberforth had forgotten that their family had ever owned the house in which he was now standing.
It was far from ideal, but it would do as Dumbledore spent the next few days trying to think about what his next move ought to be.
With a flick of his wand an enchanted fire ignited in the freshly repaired fireplace, filling the place with light and warmth. Another flick turned a rotten chunk of wood into a lovely chintz armchair and he settled down into it for a nap.
'Transfiguration really is the most wonderful form of magic,' he mused as his eyes grew heavy. As they closed, the last thing he saw before falling asleep was Fawkes, sitting on his new perch, tucking his head under his wing for a nap of his own.
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