Office Of Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcements, July 1979
"Repeat that," Barty Crouch said slowly. His voice was too calm, which made the words sharper. "What did you say the casualty count was?"
"Yes, sir," the back-office agent swallowed. "Out of fifty Aurors deployed, nineteen are confirmed KIA. Twenty-five are critically injured. Of those, twelve are unfit for further service. The remainder suffered minor injuries and will require at least a week of rest. All are expected to survive."
Crouch's fists clenched. Nails bit into flesh until blood welled in his palm.
Then he moved.
He snatched a report from the desk and hurled it across the office. The table followed, kicked hard enough to topple with a thunderous crash.
"Merlin damn it," he snarled. "Bloody Death Eaters."
The room fell silent, broken only by the crackle of an overturned lamp. The agent stood frozen, pale as parchment.
Crouch inhaled once. Twice. When he spoke again, his voice was controlled, but colder.
"Has there been any report explaining why this operation collapsed?" he asked. "This is the single greatest loss the Auror Office has suffered in one action since the start of the century. I want to know what transpired to cause it."
The agent fumbled with his notes. "Yes, sir. Preliminary testimonials indicate that the Aurors grossly miscalculated enemy strength. More critically, they underestimated the potential of the Trixes currently circulating on the market."
Crouch's eyes narrowed.
"One captured combatant confirmed that the gauntlets possess multiple integrated functions, not modular variations. The schematics were supplied by the former owner of Three-M. He sold the rune structures to them in retaliation against the Ministry."
Silence stretched.
"I warned them," Crouch said quietly.
He turned away, staring at the ruined desk. "That man was a talent. Half-blood or not, no one produces innovations like that without brilliance. And what did the Ministry do? Pushed him out for profit."
His jaw tightened.
"He fled. And in revenge, he sold his designs."
Crouch slammed his hand against the wall. "I told the Minister to eliminate the problem. Root and stem. But no. Half-measures. Compromises. And now this is the price."
He turned back, fury returning in full.
"Even today," Crouch said, voice cutting, "the Minister insisted on deploying young recruits. Barely trained, paired with a handful of senior Aurors, while the bulk were diverted to secure Hogsmeade and the Ministry itself."
His voice rose, controlled fury finally breaking through.
"If you commit, you commit fully. Otherwise, don't commit at all. Damn it!"
The door burst open.
"Sir," another Ministry worker said, breathless, "the Minister has called for an emergency meeting."
Crouch straightened. Blood still slicked his palm, staining his cuff.
"Of course he has," he said coldly. "Ask Frank Longbottom to join me with the Minister."
The worker hesitated. "Sir… Auror Longbottom is injured. He's currently at St. Mungo's."
Crouch closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
"Damn Merlin," he muttered, then snapped them open. "Who is available from that team? Anyone who actually saw what happened?"
"Yes, sir. Corban Yaxley," the worker replied quickly. "He's the one who managed to apprehend one of the Death Eaters during the engagement."
Crouch nodded once.
"Send him to the Minister's office. Immediately."
______________________________________________________________________________________
Office of the Minister for Magic
July, 1979
"That is what happened, Minister," the secretary said, eyes fixed firmly on the carpet.
Harold Michum leaned back slowly, disbelief etched across his face. "So you're telling me," he said carefully, "that the Death Eaters were more skilled, more coordinated, and better equipped than our Aurors?"
"Yes, sir."
Michum bit his lip. "But we purchased the latest equipment from Three-M. Marvelous Magical Marvels. Lord Black himself vouched that it was state-of-the-art."
The secretary hesitated. "Sir… the original owner of Three-M sold the designs of the newest, upgraded models to the Death Eaters before fleeing to Australia."
Michum's face darkened.
"That bloody half-blood," he snapped. "How dare he." He scoffed. "We offered him options. Reasonable compromises. Lord Black himself offered the man a manor, just to ensure he continued working for us."
His voice hardened.
"But no. That self-righteous swine wanted to retain control. To keep the majority of the shares." He sneered. "As if talent entitles one to ownership, he was just creating toys first for merlin's sake, we were the ones, that offered a new vision."
Michum straightened sharply.
"Contact the Australian Ministry immediately," he ordered. "Issue a bounty. I want that son of a troll dragged back in chains if necessary."
"Yes, Minister," the secretary replied at once. And hurried out.
Moments later, the door opened again.
Corban Yaxley entered first, visibly stiff, followed by Barty Crouch.
Crouch's voice was calm when he spoke, almost deceptively so. "Minister. You called for a meeting."
"Yes," Michum said sharply. "Your department has become a disgrace to this Ministry. Fifty Aurors deployed. Only a handful returned unscathed. One Death Eater captured." He leaned forward. "What do you have to say for yourself, Barty?"
Crouch met the Minister's gaze without blinking.
"The recommendations of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were not followed," he said evenly. "We submitted a complete operational proposal to your office. It was extensively modified. Those modifications directly resulted in this failure."
Michum's jaw tightened.
"Furthermore," Crouch continued, "the Ministry's earlier decision to allow the former owner of Three-M to escape directly led to this retaliation—"
"I don't want to hear about that," Michum cut in. "There was a failure. Your department must acknowledge it. The public will demand answers."
"The public," Crouch replied coldly, "also deserves to know what preceded that failure. How the Ministry, in pursuit of marginal profit, harassed a talented wizard and turned him into an enemy."
For a moment, Michum looked genuinely startled.
"Not everything needs to be known by the public," he said stiffly. "We are a team. What matters now is identifying countermeasures to ensure this never happens again."
Crouch nodded once.
"The countermeasure is simple," he said. "Upgrade the equipment. Plan another operation. What we lost in the field can only be reclaimed in the field."
Michum shook his head. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about how we handle public opinion."
Crouch's reply was immediate. "Minister, that is outside my jurisdiction. I recommend we tell the truth."
The words landed like a curse.
Michum stiffened. "Truth is a wonderful thing," he said carefully, "until it causes panic. If public trust in the Ministry erodes, what follows is not honesty. It's anarchy."
He turned sharply. "Besides, I want to know exactly how much of an improvement these so-called upgraded Trixes represent."
Crouch glanced sideways. "Corban."
The Auror straightened instantly. "Yes, sir. Corban Yaxley. I was part of the Diagon Alley operation. I apprehended one of the attackers."
"Good," Crouch said. His tone hardened. "Then tell the Minister what we need him to hear."
"Yes, sir," Yaxley replied.
"Their gauntlets, or Trixes, are integrated devices. A fusion of all three commercially available models. Shield, speed, and invisibility. In addition, they can conjure solid metal shields."
Michum's eyes narrowed.
"Unlike standard models," Yaxley continued, "the Trixes do not lose power after a single use. Each function can be activated twice before requiring recharging."
Silence followed.
"That," Michum said slowly, "is a significant improvement over what we possess."
"Unlike standard models," Yaxley continued, "the Trixes do not lose power after a single use. Each function can be activated twice before requiring recharging."
Silence followed.
"That," Michum said slowly, "is a significant improvement over what we possess."
"Yes, Minister," Yaxley confirmed. "Our Trixes can also be used twice before recharging. But only one function is available per device."
Michum exhaled sharply through his nose.
"Is there any update from Lord Black or Lord Lestrange?" he asked, turning as the secretary re-entered. "They're behind the acquisition of the shop now, correct?"
"Yes, Minister," the secretary replied. "Both Lord Black and Lord Lestrange are on their way. They've requested testimonies from the Aurors and, if possible, a sample of the confiscated product. They've assured us they can reproduce the device as quickly as possible."
"They should," Crouch said tightly, jaw clenched. "We're in this mess because of their greed in the first place."
The words hung in the air, heavy and accusatory.
Michum did not immediately respond.
Because this time, Crouch wasn't wrong.
_________________________________________________
Black Manor, July 1979
"Tell me, godson," Regulus said, lifting his teacup with measured elegance, "what exactly was the purpose of this… elaborate scheme?"
Corvus did not hesitate. "It was necessary, Godfather."
Regulus arched a brow. "Necessary?" He took a slow sip. "Because I fail to see how allowing an imperiused man to remain the owner of a shop we already controlled, only to buy it again through Ministry channels, grease palms with bribes, and then conveniently exile him to Australia… accomplishes anything."
He set the cup down with a soft click.
"Especially when we made such a show of his supposed resentment. Of his 'inevitable revenge.'" Regulus's gaze sharpened. "When in truth, you were the one who designed the equipment. You created it. And you sold it in the first place."
He leaned forward now, voice precise, almost surgical.
"So tell me, Corvus. Why manufacture an imaginary enemy for the Ministry and an imaginary, embittered inventor for the public? Why insist this entire affair be made public?"
His eyes flicked, calculating.
"It will tarnish the Black and Lestrange households, if only slightly. The public will accuse us of bullying a common wizard. Which we did not. We owned the shop from the beginning."
Regulus paused.
"So why invite scandal when secrecy would have spared us entirely?" Regulus asked quietly.
Corvus replied without hesitation.
"Because the Ministry and the public must never even suspect the truth," Corvus said evenly. "There must be no doubt that we are merely businessmen."
He folded his hands.
"Yes, we are moving money from one hand to the other. But to the public, we bullied and harassed a common man into selling his company out of greed. They will call it greed. Our greed. The Ministry's greed. And in doing so, they will place Black and Lestrange firmly in the same boat as the Ministry itself."
Regulus did not interrupt.
"In that arrangement," Corvus continued, "responsibility diffuses. Guilt becomes collective."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Convenient."
Regulus frowned but remained silent.
"With scandal," Corvus went on, "the Ministry is forced to compensate for its failure. To appear strong after its mishaps. Compensation means procurement. More Auror losses mean more orders."
His eyes were calm. Clinical.
"And the public," he said, "frightened by the same narrative, does what frightened people always do. They buy protection. Our reach expands. Our sales increase. We cease selling optional curiosities and begin selling necessities. Weapons one must possess simply to survive."
Regulus stiffened.
"And the Death Eaters," Corvus added, "have already marketed the product for us."
"They demonstrated its superiority publicly," he continued. "Fifty Aurors defeated as if they were schoolchildren. We ensured the papers emphasized that detail. We also ensured conspiracy theories to spread that says, how death eaters were never that powerful, it's the devices, how Ministry corruption and Greed of Nobles pushed the halfblood to make a deal with the devils themselves. The more the Aurors are criticized, the greater the perceived value of the device."
He leaned back slightly.
"Fear and scandals," he said quietly, "sell faster than truth ever could."
Regulus exhaled slowly.
"The manufactured scandal ensures that neither the Ministry nor the public ever suspects our true position," Corvus said. "They will believe we bribed the Ministry. That we threatened to buy another man's livelihood outright. All for profit."
He paused.
"They will believe the original owner took revenge by leaking the designs. That countless imitations flooded the market. And that we are now overcompensating, desperately scrambling to regain lost ground."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Next, we release advanced products through the black market. Later, we sell the same designs officially through the shop. To them, it appears we are merely playing catch-up."
Regulus's voice was low. "And the accusations?"
"They will curse us for bullying a common wizard," Corvus replied calmly. "They always do. That reputation costs us nothing."
He met Regulus's eyes.
"We will publicly lament how the reputational damage is not worth the meager profits from the black market. All while quietly supplying that very market ourselves."
Regulus went very still.
"And what they won't suspect?" he asked.
"That both the black-market and official products are ours," Corvus said. "All of them. Supplied to the public. To the Ministry. And to the Death Eaters."
Silence settled between them, heavy and irrevocable.
"That," Corvus said softly, "is why the full story must never reach the public."
He rose, smoothing his cuffs.
"As for the Death Eaters," he added, almost idly, "in time, I will decide whom we bring to our side."
Regulus looked up sharply.
"It is time," Corvus continued, "for fate to move. The prophecy concerning the Dark Lord's fall will surface soon, then I can finally relax."
He met his godfather's gaze without blinking.
"And when it does," he said, "our next phase begins."
Regulus did not look away. "Are you certain the Dark Lord won't suspect a thing?"
Corvus inclined his head slightly. "There is always a possibility of discovery. Which is why suspicion must be fed, not avoided."
"For now," Corvus continued, "we surrender the majority of our profits to him. Publicly in front of the Elite death eaters. We establish a Revolutionary Fund within Gringotts and deposit the gold there under his name."
Regulus stiffened. "You intend to pay him."
"I intend to reassure him," Corvus corrected calmly. "Gold is proof of loyalty he understands. He wants to be treated like a king, we would treat him like one."
He folded his hands.
"We show him that every Galleon we earn exists to finance his war and we are his ardent supporters. That our operations are not commercial ambitions, but efforts to finance his vision."
Regulus considered this.
"If he believes we are enriching ourselves too much," Corvus went on, "he will grow suspicious. If he believes we are impoverishing ourselves for his cause, and weakining the opposition, he will grow complacent. "
A pause.
"Nothing dulls scrutiny like generosity."
Regulus exhaled slowly.
"And when the fund grows?" he asked.
Corvus's eyes flickered, dark with intent.
"Then the fund becomes a lever," he said. "One that can be redirected the moment history demands it."
"And if he still suspects?" Regulus pressed.
"Then we ensure he never has the time to examine us too closely," Corvus said. "Which is why we give him gifts. Always something. Sometimes useful, sometimes ornamental. He doesn't need them. That isn't the point."
Regulus listened without interrupting.
"Gifts create rhythm," Corvus continued. "They establish expectation. They signal loyalty in a language he understands."
"And gold," he added, "buys more than favor. It buys influence."
Regulus's eyes narrowed slightly.
"By funding him," Corvus said, "we gain the right to suggest. To nudge. To frame operations that appear to originate from his own will."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Like the operation we just witnessed."
"And next," Corvus continued calmly, "we manufacture another enemy. This time for the Dark Lord himself."
Silence thickened. Regulus's eyes widened.
"He has to remain occupied," Corvus said. "Chasing threats. Crushing rivals. Always moving from one problem to the next."
He leaned forward slightly.
"A distracted tyrant does not look inward."
Regulus exhaled slowly.
"You're proposing to manage his attention."
Corvus met his gaze.
"I am proposing to manage his time," he said softly. "And time, Godfather, is the only resource even he cannot replace."
He straightened.
"As long as he is busy fighting enemies we choose," Corvus concluded, "he will never notice who is truly shaping the war."