Gawain heard the whispers as soon as he stepped off the Apparation point. The cluster of folks, some in a hushed silence, others not, was his second clue that something had changed since he'd left the night before.
Walking over, he waited until a path cleared before the new statue. Stepping into the gap, he felt his face go stony as he took in the details. He wasn't unfamiliar with the ideas behind it - his mother went on and on about the pureblood legacy and tradition whenever he was home for more than ten minutes - but the way it was displayed made his jaw tighten.
He also didn't care for the 'Magic is Might' or the poor, horribly carved Muggle bodies piled one on top of the other. This wasn't the Ministry he'd joined so many years ago and served faithfully since. His Ministry wasn't a place where one type of wizard was more important than others, where Muggles were seen as anything less than human.