Alexander had spent the entire morning reviewing the paperwork related to Azkaban for the afternoon council meeting.
Many changes had been made to the prison, the most significant of which was the addition of 100 wizards serving as guards.
The Dementors were no longer trustworthy. Although they still served as guards, their functions had been restricted.
They now patrolled the skies and the inner areas with the most dangerous prisoners, but the outer wings—where those convicted of lesser crimes were held—were now guarded by 50 wizards.
The remaining 50 were split into 20 elite guards assigned to the maximum-security wing and 30 guards responsible for aerial patrol and the exterior of Azkaban.
All the guards were trained like Aurors. Despite a few exceptions, the vast majority of them were Muggle-born.
With so many of Voldemort's followers locked in Azkaban, Alexander didn't dare place anyone who could possibly be corrupted.
Even with these 100 guards, Alexander was not pleased with the prison's condition. Azkaban had proven to be a great source of profit for the Ministry.
When he began implementing changes, Alexander had ordered the current warden to scour the island for any flaws or potential escape routes.
The results included the discovery of a large quantity of magical silver and other minerals of high value in alchemy.
The lack of manpower willing to mine in such an inhospitable place could be resolved by using the prisoners themselves.
However, to put that plan into action, Alexander would need to double the number of prison guards.
This time, he would have to hire some foreigners to meet the demand.
Still, he was confident in finding good candidates thanks to new background check methods.
But for all this to become reality, he first needed to get the proposal approved.
The paperwork seemed endless. Alexander didn't enjoy this part of the job.
He was buried in a pile of scrolls when someone knocked on his door.
He looked up, tired, and said, "Come in."
A middle-aged woman in a gray formal suit with her hair tied in a ponytail entered.
"Minister, Madam Isaacs is here."
Alexander waved his hand, and the pile of papers on his desk flew quickly and neatly into the filing cabinets at the back of the office.
He adjusted his tie and smiled at Evelyn, his secretary, who silently left to fetch Berta Isaacs.
Not even a minute later, a plump middle-aged woman entered with a nervous expression.
She looked at Alexander with a hint of fear, but he didn't mind her unease.
He gestured for her to sit in the armchair in front of his desk.
Berta stumbled a bit as she rushed toward the seat.
Once seated, Alexander looked into her eyes. She reminded him of a frightened squirrel facing a hunting dog.
But appearances were deceiving—it's always the blow you don't see that knocks you down.
He sighed and began speaking.
"You know why you've been summoned to this office today, Madam Isaacs?"
Berta shifted in her seat and replied with a deep sigh,
"To be honest, Minister, I have my doubts. I don't recall doing anything that would warrant a personal summons."
Alexander's eyes sharpened at her response.
"Your superiors have plenty to say about you. Your subordinates and colleagues even more. Some of the words used: reckless, insubordinate, dangerous. Quite a list, isn't it?"
Berta smiled gently, her tone laced with irony.
"Indeed. Sheep often have much to say behind the wolf's back. But despite the insults and slander, Minister, I believe my results speak louder."
"Not the latest ones. Your entire team was wiped out—not to mention the damage caused."
Berta lowered her head for a moment. Alexander thought he saw a flicker of regret, but she quickly dispelled that notion.
"Yes, my squad was destroyed. But what's so wrong with that, Minister?"
Alexander was momentarily speechless. He suppressed his anger and looked at her with cold eyes.
"What's wrong with it? Your men died. Fathers, sons, husbands. I don't think their families share your perspective."
Berta met his gaze with a hint of defiance.
"Yes, Minister. Fathers, sons, husbands. But before any of that, they were soldiers. A soldier must be willing to die to win the war. Twenty-four werewolves killed—potential followers of Voldemort. I ask: how many lives did their deaths save?"
Alexander was once again lost for words. The woman was insane—but not entirely wrong.
"You could have achieved better results with a different approach, Berta. I won't deny that your squad's sacrifice saved lives. But had they lived, they could have saved even more."
"That I can't say, Minister. But I assure you I don't regret my actions. I did the best I could with what I had."
She paused, then continued.
"We were severely outnumbered. If we had done nothing, everyone there would've died. Every squad member knew the risk—I included. I could've died, just like them. But I moved forward and fulfilled my duty."
Alexander was still speechless. He couldn't refute her, but he also couldn't simply give her badge and rank back.
"You place me at a crossroads, child. I don't judge your actions—depending on the situation, I might've done the same. But it doesn't change the fact that you went against your training and organizational protocols."
Berta lowered her head, letting out a heavy sigh.
"I won't get my rank back, will I, Minister Goldenhart?"
Alexander merely shook his head.
"Even if I intervened, it's up to the Auror Commissioner and the Head of the Hunter Division. I doubt they'd approve your reinstatement."
He looked into her eyes and, for the first time, saw a hint of genuine regret—perhaps for losing her position, but still, it was something.
"However, the fact that you managed to take down 24 werewolves with a single squad is a remarkable feat—proof of personal strength and tactical skill."
"Tell me, Miss Isaacs, would you like to serve your country in another way?"
At those words, Berta lifted her head quickly and nearly shouted,
"Absolutely, Minister! This job is all I have!"
Alexander smiled.
Sometimes misfortune leads to opportunity.