It took the Department of Magical Law Enforcement patrols only two minutes to raise a full alarm over the destruction of the Dementors. Another minute, and the shift supervisor was standing in the Headmaster's office, explaining the essence of the problem to a bearded old man who had woken up instantly. Another minute, and Hogwarts went into lockdown, closing every entrance and exit, while three teams of Aurors began combing the castle itself and the surrounding grounds in search of Sirius Black. Heads of House and professors were roused by the signal, guarding the students' peace in their common rooms. The few who preferred to wander the castle at night, hiding in secluded places, carried away by the romance of night, were detained by Aurors in case it was Black under Polyjuice Potion.
Life in the castle boiled, but very quietly. The students slept. Hector Granger was going to bed as well, having made it back to the common room a minute before the alarm was announced, and having no idea what a mess he had started.
However, an hour later, when the detained students turned out to be students and received their strict scoldings, when Sirius Black still was not found for the simple reason that he was not only absent from the castle but even from the surrounding area, when all the professors and Heads of House were satisfied the students were safe... life at Hogwarts returned to what it should be at night: silence and calm. Only the sealed entrances and exits, and a team of Aurors inside the castle, spoke of the incident.
Headmaster Dumbledore sat in an armchair by the fireplace in his office, and from the fire the face of Minister Fudge looked out at him.
"Dumbledore. Something has to be done."
"What are you suggesting, Cornelius? That I run through the forests looking for Sirius Black?"
"No, of course not... Why would you..." Fudge said, flustered. "But we can't afford to lose Dementors. They're an irreplaceable resource."
"I can't say I'm saddened by their demise."
"But..."
"If someone has decided to reduce their numbers, I can only praise that selfless wizard."
"So you assume it wasn't Sirius Black?"
"As we can see, Cornelius, Black has made no further attempt to break into Hogwarts. More than that, you know perfectly well he has been seen in several places already. He is moving away from the castle. Perhaps it's time to consider lifting this... blockade from the school?"
"Absolutely not!" the fiery face in the fireplace snapped. "I can't let people think the Ministry is powerless to catch a single escaped criminal!"
"It seems to me the Dementors should be sent back to Azkaban, to do what they're supposed to do," Dumbledore said, smoothing his long beard.
"So..." Fudge fell silent for a second. "Is it possible that you, Headmaster, are involved in the destruction of the Dementors?"
"Nonsense, Cornelius."
"I'm not sure..." Fudge said. "I'll be forced to look into this. And if you are involved, mark my word, you will regret it."
Fudge's face vanished, and the flames in the fireplace became what they should be, just flames without any shape.
For a while Dumbledore sat in silence, staring at the fire.
"Tell me, Fawkes, should I be glad our Minister is such an impenetrable fool, or should I still be sad?"
"Kraaaak, kraaaak!" the large phoenix chattered from his perch.
"Depends on the situation, then..."
The morning of the new day greeted me with a dull, aching pain in my left arm. Pain, and a faint nausea. Rolling onto my side, I started running life energy through my body, giving it the instruction to heal. Casting Tempus, I realized it was still too early even for my training. I lay in the dark, healing myself, fighting the nausea, and thinking. Thinking about how incomplete memory fragments are.
The cause of the sickness became clear to me, along with the minor but wide-reaching damage to my left arm. Indulging my whims, I grew the best elven bow. That was good, of course, but only tonight, after using it, pain sensations crept into my dream. Based on my actions and those pain sensations, my brain, while I slept, managed to dig into the corners of the elf memory fragment that my waking mind could not reach, no matter what chains of association it tried to unwind.
The problem was expected, but unexpected. Bows like this are meant for elves, and like the elves themselves, they are connected to their shared magical, or energetic, system, the forest with its mallorns and other special flora and fauna. Such bows are used by Wardens who keep watch on the borders. Every shot from this bow amplifies the effect of the arrow or its head, amplifies any charms or patterns laid into it, but everything has its price. In normal, proper conditions, the bow takes its "payment" from the entire elven community, from the forest, from nature, and even hundreds of thousands of shots would not do the system the slightest harm. Here, though, there is only me and the bow.
Put simply, it was a good thing I decided to shoot down only a dozen Dementors, not all of them. In the moment, I might not have felt the damage at all, but this morning I could have woken up without an arm, and with other severe injuries besides. There it was, the downside of a memory fragment, a lot of knowledge, even general knowledge like that, only surfaces when the external conditions line up in a way that triggers it. That is if the knowledge is even in the fragment at all.
After I finished healing my arm, I still could not suppress the nausea. Sliding off the bed, I limped to the bathroom and let the urge take over. Only I was empty, and I got nothing but sharp muscle spasms that brought pain to my chest.
"Damn it..."
Pulling my wand from its holster, I transfigured a large glass and filled it with water using Aguamenti. I drank with difficulty, then tried to rinse my mouth again. This time it worked...
After washing away the evidence of my activity, I made it to the sink and cleaned myself up.
"I haven't felt like this in a long time," I told my pale reflection in the mirror. "And I'd like to not feel like this for just as long."
Ruffling my black hair, which made the paleness of my face look downright dramatic, along with the faint bluish shadows under my blue eyes, I studied myself closely, searching for any other visible signs of health trouble.
"Stupid head," I smirked at myself. "I have diagnostics."
With a couple of deliberate pushes of will, I formed an elven diagnostic pattern on life energy. A flood of information about my condition poured into my awareness, nothing critical, I had repaired most of it while still lying in bed. I formed a sphere of the Minor Healing pattern above my palm and pressed it into my chest. In just a few seconds I felt the full range of sensations from temperature swings, turned pink, and broke into sweat. And I got brutally hungry, magic is magic, but healing like that draws on the body's resources, and I do not have much in reserve. I would even say I have none, everything gets used.
Back in my room, I wanted to lie down and do nothing, but once I was awake I simply could not make myself slack off, so I went to do physical exercises in one of the classrooms... standard morning routine.