Кстати, откопал ту свою пародь про авроров и на пробу веле нейронке её перевести. Вроде хорошо получилось.

I.
Patrol Auror Nott was already drafting his resignation in his head. The op was FUBAR, and he was cycling through acceptable excuses for Jefferson. Just as he ruled out "well, shit happens, right?" as weak sauce, a disheveled battle-axe with a hollowed-out face and unhinged eyes shuffled onto the Hogsmeade lane.
"No bloody way that’s her," Nott thought, gut sinking. "Bellatrix’s a total knockout. Every ex-Death Eater in the breakroom swore on their wand." The woman clocked him, eyes locking on with a glare that could curdle pumpkin juice. Offended, Nott decided to flex his badge and stepped up.
"Oi! Citizen! Let’s see some ID, yeah?" he barked, channeling his best beat-cop gravitas.
"And who the fuck are you?" the passing witch shot back, zero chill. She definitely wasn’t Bellatrix, but protocol was protocol, right?
"Nott. Magnus Nott! Special, Fully-Authorized Field Operative, Junior Assistant to the Auxiliary Deputy of the Official of the Special Sub-Department for Cross-Referencing Unauthorized Foot Traffic under the Ministry of Magic, MACUSA!" Nott announced, puffing his chest. "Here’s the warrant!"
The witch snatched the parchment from his grip and squinted at it like she actually gave a shit. The bureaucratic theater worked. Magnus’s confidence went through the roof.
"I gotta ask," he leaned in, voice dropping to a confidential murmur. "What’s your business out here at this hour? Where you headed, where you coming from? Avadas are pinging off the pavement, Azkaban dropouts are playing tag in the alleys..."
"Came from there, heading there," she said, jerking a thumb vaguely down the lane.
"Yeah, don’t go that way," Nott advised, trying to play good cop. "Past that bend is Wood’s checkpoint. He’s my guy. He’ll grill you, and what’s your story?"
"I’ll tell him I’m Imperiused and just walking, no clue where I’m headed!" she drawled, stretching her lips into a razor-thin smirk.
"Brilliant. Carry on, then!" Nott snapped a crisp two-finger salute. The witch gave a curt nod, tucked his warrant into her robes like a souvenir, and vanished down the lane.

II.
Patrol Auror Wood watched from behind a crumbling wall as his mate Nott chewed the fat with some absolute menace of a woman. When she turned and started marching straight toward his post, his stomach dropped. "If he waved her through, it’s either clean or she’s brass. Definitely brass. Looks a bit like Bones, doesn’t she? Shit, I can’t even remember what Bones looks like, but I know she’s terrifying. I’m so fucked..."
Before he could blink, she was in his face, shoving a document under his nose. Wood’s brain short-circuited: inspection. He took the warrant with trembling hands. The moving photo in the ID booklet showed Nott staring back at him, which had to be some kind of wizarding prank, but the binding, ink, stamps, and signatures were all 100% legit.
"No irregularities!" Wood barked, instantly crushed by the weight of the paperwork. "Zero wanted persons logged during my shift, sir!"
The "supervisor" gave a solemn nod and Disapparated with a crack. The bushes rustled, and Sirius Black peeled himself out of the foliage. He looked like his brain had just blue-screened.
"What the absolute hell was Lestrange on about?" Sirius breathed.
"Sleep it off, you Gryffindor Ridgeback!" Wood snapped, thoroughly pleased with his own wit. "That was your boss Bones doing a spot check, only her warrant’s got... Nott’s face... and it’s our warrant... SQUAD, LOCK AND LOAD!" he suddenly roared, voice cracking into full-blown panic. "SURROUND THE CLEARING! GET THE OWL, GET THE BLOODY OWL!"
A signal owl shot into the night sky like a feathered missile.

III.
Aurors Duram and Goldstein, dug into their hides, fingers hovering over their wands, waited for the cue. Finally, the bright light of the signal owl illuminated the surroundings.
"Green flare," Duram noted, cracking one eye open. "Stand down. Back to dreamland."
"They’re screaming over there," Jessica muttered, shifting in the dirt. "Maybe they botched the signal? Maybe..."
"Don’t be daft, Jess! We’re professionals! The memo clearly said..." Duram yanked out the crumpled parchment, squinting at it. "Right here... 'Green – muster at designated rally point...' Oh, fuck me sideways! Where the hell did that thing fly?!"
"How should I know!" Goldstein wriggled, kicking up leaves. "You picked the spot yourself so it wouldn’t be visible, genius!"
"Well?!"
"Fuck! We can’t see jack from it either!"
"Right, move, move, MOVE!"
Acting on that brilliant plan, Duram immediately tripped over the scrambling Jessica and cartwheeled headfirst down the bloody slope...