"Difficult to say, as I don't have a full list of who was currently employed earlier today. But of those I know to have been Ministry workers . . . many are missing. Amelia Bones. Dirk Cresswell. Arnold Peasegood. Dolores Umbridge. Amos Diggory--"
"Albus," said Snape. "I really do think that's enough, for the moment. Harry has a report to make."
Harry was caught between wildly swinging emotions, feeling horribly sorry about Mr Diggory, and not so sorry about Umbridge, but his father's last comment brought him out of it and reminded him of his own responsibilities to the Order. "Yes," he said, sitting up straighter as he tried to organise his thoughts. His father knew some of this already, but the headmaster didn't, so Harry turned to face Dumbledore. "Voldemort's responsible. I mean, of course he is, who else would do something like this, but he . . . uh, told me so."
"He broke through your Occlumency?"
Harry winced. This was the part he'd rather not mention, but the Order might need to know the full truth, so he swallowed back his reluctance. "No, Headmaster. I dropped my wall of fire for a moment. I'm sorry."
Snape leaned forward in his chair. "Sorry?"
He didn't sound sarcastic or snide, but merely concerned, which only made Harry feel worse. "Well, I shouldn't have--"
"It would seem not," said Snape dryly. "I would much rather that you had not had to hear Voldemort taunting you. But the fact that he did, that does not make the catastrophe at the Ministry your fault. A series of magical incendiaries such as the headmaster describes is not assembled at a moment's notice. This attack was planned in advance."
"For my birthday present," muttered Harry. "Look, I didn't say it was my fault. I'm not mental enough to think I'm responsible for what Voldemort takes it into his head to do. But it was creepy, the way he said, 'Happy Birthday, Harry,' to me, just a couple of minutes before the wireless started reporting on the Ministry."
Snape leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. "Perhaps we should have heeded your instincts earlier, and attacked."
"Ha," said Harry. "For all we know, that was a trap. He might have had his bombs ready to blow us up the minute we arrived."
Snape nodded, his dark gaze remaining focussed on Harry. "I am most gratified to see that you are not blaming yourself, this time."
"Yeah, well . . . " Harry sighed. "Hard not to feel a little bit of that. He did pick my birthday, after all."
"He picked a month-end night," corrected Dumbledore. "A time when, as Bill Weasley has heard from the few survivors, security goes home as usual at shift's end, but some workers in each department stay on into the wee hours. The perfect time to cause maximum loss of life with minimal chance of being stopped."
"Not omnipotent," said Snape softly.
Harry gnashed his teeth. So, Ministry workers had been put in harm's way by an asinine policy! "Fudge really is an idiot."
"Was," said Draco in a bleary voice. "Severus, I'm certain that Rhiannon must be home by now. I need to get in touch with her, to explain--"
"That will not be possible."
"All I need is a telephone. Can't we get hold of a mobile, somehow, and floo over to Grimmauld Place so I can use it?"
"There actually is a mobile already there, I think," said Harry, remembering the one he'd used to call Dudley. "Batteries are probably dead by now, though."
"Severus?"
Draco's pleading tone did nothing to sway Snape's mind. "We are not moving from the protections of Hogwarts until we understand the situation better."
Draco turned his face away.
Harry sighed, but there wasn't much he could say, since he thought their father was right. "What about Voldemort's taunts, Dad? Was it just dumb luck that he noticed my shields were down?"
Snape shook his head. "I imagine he wanted to gloat to his enemies, and you're the obvious choice, given the connection you share. He would need to be close by to enter the headmaster's mind, or mine, but with you, matters are simpler."
"Only because I stopped Occluding."
"It would be best to protect your thoughts as much as possible, now," Dumbledore said, very softly.
"Should have been doing that all summer," muttered Harry, thinking of how often he'd let his concentration waver during Seeker's games with Draco, or while he was working on his spell lexicon.
"Well, we believed that Voldemort had gone largely underground, so to speak."
Snape's voice took on a grating tone. "No, we were led to believe that, Headmaster. I stand by what I told you before term ended: this scheme of letting Lupin play at spying is unsound in the extreme. What has he done but lull us into a false sense of security?"
"In point of fact, I believe you called the plan 'insane,' Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. He reached into a robe pocket as though fishing for something.
Harry had a bad moment when he was afraid the headmaster would offer a sweet to Snape. He almost winced; the last thing any of them needed was another explosion, this one of the verbal variety.
"It is insane," said Snape, his voice deadly quiet. "You can trust that I'll be having words with Lupin about the decidedly slipshod work he's been doing. How many people are dead because he didn't divine Voldemort's plan to attack the Ministry? How many potential allies have we lost in this debacle?"
Harry wanted to defend Remus. He was sure the man was doing the very best he possibly could. He remembered, though, how badly his father reacted to Harry arguing with him in front of the headmaster.
Still, there was one other thing to say that he couldn't hold in. "Remus might be dead, too, you know. I . . . I can't think it's good news that he hasn't reported in, yet."
He hated the way his voice wobbled, but maybe it was all right, even at his age. Snape seemed to think it was; he actually got up from his chair and pulled Harry to stand, but then, instead of embracing him like Harry was expecting, he patted his back a few times.
Awkwardly, like he'd just remembered that Albus was watching.
Draco made a noise like he'd swallowed a chuckle. Harry might have resented that, but it did break the tension, so he supposed it was all right.
Snape stepped away, his sallow complexion faintly tinged with pink. "Harry, have you anything to add to your report?" The man paused until Harry shook his head.
Dumbledore stood up from his chair. "Keep these boys of yours safe, Severus."
Snape nodded. "I know you must have a great deal to do," he said smoothly, his body turning almost imperceptibly towards the fireplace. "But do let me know when more information becomes available."
"Of course, Severus." Dumbledore gave a faint smile. "Good night, Harry, Draco."
"Good night."
"Thank you for attending our party," added Draco, an odd look on his face.
Before Harry could ask about it, the headmaster was gone, and Snape was talking again. "It's been a stressful evening, to say the least. I suggest that you both seek your beds."
"Dudley's sleeping in mine, so I'll take the couch," said Harry, shrugging.
Draco crossed his arms. "If you think you can sleep, you may as well take my bed."
"It will do no good to stay up brooding about missing your rendezvous with the young lady," said Snape, his lips pursed.
"How about brooding about all the rest of it?" Draco scowled. "I'm not stupid, Severus. This attack means the war is on in earnest, which means Rhiannon will be in more danger than ever, if anyone should see us together, which means I'll basically never see her again, doesn't it?"
"Draco, how can you worry about that when so many people died tonight?" asked Harry.
"What can I do about the people who died? Nothing--"
"You can do nothing tonight about Miss Miller, either," said Snape.
"If you liked her, you'd call her Rhiannon! And you'd better figure out how to like her, Severus, because she's going to be your daughter-in-law someday, and . . . oh, fuck."