Perhaps someone else would have strongly advised Adrian to stay far away from such dangerous creatures as Chimeras, but Dumbledore didn't concern himself with such conventional warnings or safety protocols.
He trusted Adrian's judgment and capabilities implicitly, even when it came to creatures that had killed experienced handlers.
Besides, the Chimeras and their temperamental behavior weren't the point or purpose of their current conversation anyway.
Soon enough, getting down to the actual business at hand, Dumbledore informed Adrian about everything Umbridge had just declared in this very office about an hour ago.
From Dumbledore's perspective and understanding of the situation, the Treants living in the Forbidden Forest would, to at least some extent, follow Adrian's commands and instructions.
He just wasn't entirely certain about the precise degree to which this obedience or cooperation extended, or whether Adrian could actually control their actions if they decided to act independently.
After hearing this detailed account of Umbridge's threats and the Ministry's impending action, Adrian's reaction was remarkably calm and unsurprised. He simply nodded with complete composure, his expression showing this was exactly what he'd expected to happen eventually.
"I understand the situation," He said calmly. "I'll inform Bart later today and have it prepare the tribe accordingly. They should be ready for whatever the Ministry decides to attempt."
In fact, he wasn't surprised or concerned by this development at all. The escalation seemed almost inevitable given Umbridge's personality.
It was perfectly natural, even predictable, for someone like Umbridge to go after Flick with vindictive determination—after all, the little Treant had made her look quite pathetic and powerless, had literally thrown her out a window.
That kind of public humiliation will surely get retaliation from her.
And this situation, Adrian thought with a smile, happened to be an excellent opportunity for the Treants to make official, formal contact with the Ministry of Magic as equals though he suspected the actual process of that first contact might not be particularly pleasant for the Ministry representatives.
"Will there be serious trouble from this?" Dumbledore asked with concern, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "Do you need any help from me?"
"Probably not necessary," Adrian replied thoughtfully, considering various scenarios and outcomes in his mind. His fingers drummed lightly on the arm of his chair. "Though I appreciate the offer. As for potential trouble... well, the Treants have always been remarkably friendly and peaceful by nature. They never harm life lightly or without cause—unless, of course, the other party happens to be wearing bright pink clothes."
He said this last part with a perfectly straight face.
Dumbledore's hand, which had been raising his teacup to his lips for another sip of the sweet, honeyed tea he favored, paused in mid-motion.
"Just kidding, Professor," Adrian added casually after a moment.
Dumbledore decided not to pursue that particular line of inquiry any further.
One Week Later
Time had a way of slipping by quietly at Hogwarts, each day was blending into the next with the comfortable rhythm of classes, meals, and routine. Another week passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, marked by cooling weather and shortening days.
October 28th arrived—a Saturday, naturally.
Today was another scheduled meeting day for Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts study group, which had become a regular fixture in many students' weekly routines.
Before this particular session began, learning from past experience and wanting better security measures, Harry had specifically sought out the twins and asked them to acquire for him a specialized wide-angle two-way mirror—a more advanced version of the standard communication mirrors, modified specifically for surveillance purposes.
He wanted to be able to monitor the corridor outside their meeting room without constantly opening the door or posting a lookout.
Speaking of the two-way mirror and its cost, Harry couldn't help but feel somewhat bitter that its staggering, frankly outrageous price was completely disproportionate to its actual relatively simple function.
In the Muggle world, as Harry well knew from his years with the Dursleys, an ordinary security camera could easily achieve the same basic surveillance functionality at a fraction of the cost.
"This is practically highway robbery," Ron said with feeling, leaning over Harry's shoulder to glance at the real-time corridor scene displayed in the enchanted mirror's surface. He couldn't help clicking his tongue in disapproval. "Honestly, I bet Fred and George marked this up by at least fifty percent and pocketed the difference. Probably more. That's how they fund all their experiments."
Ron knew his brothers well.
George and Fred, who had apparently been lurking nearby specifically to eavesdrop on this conversation about their business practices, suddenly materialized on both side of their younger brother. They squeezed him affectionately but also somewhat threateningly from both sides, trapping him between them.
"How could you possibly slander us like that, Ron?" Fred said looking exaggeratedly hurt, pressing one hand dramatically to his chest as if wounded.
He draped his other arm heavily around Ron's shoulders in a grip that was just slightly too tight to be comfortable. "We're your own brothers! Family! Flesh and blood! We've always been the most loyal and generous to good friends and family—we never charge an extra single Knut beyond fair market value."
His tone of wounded innocence was pitch-perfect.
"We're hurt, Ronald. Truly hurt," George added from the other side, shaking his head sadly while also securing Ron in place. "After everything we've done for you over the years..."
Ron struggled futilely to break free from their coordinated pincer attack, his face was reddening with effort and embarrassment. "Oh, come off it! That's complete rubbish and you know it! Last time I just asked you casually to bring me some Zonko's products from Hogsmeade and you made me spend an entire month's allowance!!"
"Oh, but Ron," George said with a grin that showed entirely too many teeth, his voice was dropping to a stage whisper that everyone nearby could still hear perfectly, "you're not just our friend. You're our beloved baby brother, our ickle Ronniekins. That means we get to charge you the special family rate—which, coincidentally, happens to be higher. It's tradition. Get used to it."
He ruffled Ron's hair aggressively.
Ron opened his mouth to protest further, then apparently decided it was pointless. "...I hate you both."
"No, you don't," Fred said cheerfully, finally releasing him.
After the good-natured banter finally ended and Ron had straightened his robes, Harry and the other gathered students immediately transitioned into their actual training activities—they still had many advanced spells to master.
The classroom began filling with the sounds of incantations and spell effects.
As for the valuable two-way mirror and its surveillance duties, Harry carefully handed it to Hermione to watch and monitor throughout the session, trusting her attention to detail and quick reaction time.
She accepted it seriously, positioning herself near the door where she could glance at it regularly while also participating in practice.
John Selwyn, who had been standing nearby, looked at their cautious, guarded expressions and defensive preparations with genuine confusion. His dark eyes moved between them with puzzlement.
Finally, unable to contain his curiosity, he raised an eyebrow and asked directly, "Why are you all so afraid of that professor? Professor Umbridge, I mean. She's just one woman. Not particularly powerful from what I've seen. Why all this security?"
"It's not fear exactly," Harry corrected carefully, wanting to be precise about their motivations. "We're not afraid of her personally or worried she could actually hurt us magically. We just don't want unnecessary trouble or complications."
"Like avoiding an annoying fly that keeps buzzing around your head?" John suggested as a comparison, his young face thoughtful.
"More like avoiding a vindictive, authority-abusing toad," Ron interjected with a grimace of distaste. "A toad that can get you expelled or banned from Hogsmeade or assigned detentions."
At this moment, after processing their explanations and concerns, John suddenly lowered his voice and leaned forward to whisper a suggestion to Harry:
"In that case, if she's really such a problem and causing so much trouble for everyone, why don't we simply find a chance to teach her a proper lesson? A real one, I mean. As long as you cover your face adequately and plan it properly, I absolutely guarantee no one will ever know who was responsible. It's not that difficult if you're smart about it..."
His tone was perfectly normal, as if suggesting they grab lunch together rather than assault a professor.
"No, John," Harry interrupted him without any hesitation, his voice firm and leaving no room for negotiation. "Absolutely not. It hasn't come to that yet, and hopefully never will."
He gave John a serious look that made it clear this topic was closed.
John didn't know about the recent history—specifically that Flick had already taught Umbridge a rather humiliating lesson just the last week, throwing her out a window.
Harry suspected, based on Umbridge's subsequent behavior and absence from their meeting area, that perhaps she wouldn't come near this corridor again anytime soon. The memory of that experience seemed to have made an impression.
After all, Flick was still standing guard outside even now.
"By the way," Harry said suddenly, changing the subject away from this uncomfortable discussion of vigilante justice, turning to look at John with interest, "how's your Patronus Charm practice actually coming along?"
John looked up with surprise at being asked, apparently not expecting Harry to check on his individual progress.
"Expecto Patronum~"
He pronounced the incantation and gave his wand a wave.
But only a feeble thin wisp of silvery-white light barely managed to seep from the tip of his wand—a glow so dim and insubstantial it looked like it might dissipate from a strong breeze. It couldn't convey even the slightest hint of warmth or joy or protection.
It flickered weakly for a moment, then faded.
"As you can clearly see," John said with resignation and disappointment in his voice, lowering his wand, "I probably don't have the natural talent or emotional capacity for summoning a Patronus. I've been practicing for weeks with no real improvement. I'm seriously thinking of giving up and focusing my energy on spells I can actually master."
Harry frowned slightly, listening carefully to how John pronounced the incantation. There was something subtly wrong with his pronunciation.
However, Harry reflected, the Patronus Charm really wasn't magic that first-year students should realistically be attempting to learn at all. It was NEWT-level material at minimum. There was absolutely no rush or pressure for John to master it now.
"Keep practicing, but don't get discouraged," Harry advised gently. "You're a first-year. Most adult wizards can't cast a Patronus. Give yourself time."
For the rest of the session's duration, Harry continued moving through the classroom, patiently instructing the various members in spell practice and technique refinement, offering individual corrections and encouragement.
The large room echoed continuously with the rise and fall of incantations being called out—"Protego!" "Expelliarmus!" "Stupefy!"—creating a constant background chorus of magical learning.
Worth specifically mentioning was that Neville finally, after weeks of dedicated effort and multiple failures, managed to successfully block one of Harry's practice attacks with a properly-formed Shield Charm during this gathering.
The achievement drew enthusiastic cheers and applause from everyone around who'd witnessed his struggle and improvement over previous sessions. Several people clapped him on the back. Neville's face went bright red with pleasure and pride.
When the meeting was around halfway through its planned duration, Hermione suddenly let out a sharp, urgent gasp that cut through the ambient noise: "Harry!"
Her voice carried alarm that immediately drew attention.
She stared intensely at the two-way mirror clutched in her hand. Her voice came out somewhat tense and worried. "Umbridge has appeared in the corridor! She's here!"
At these words, which caused an instant ripple of concerned murmurs through the nearby students, Harry quickly crossed the room to Hermione's side.
He looked down at the mirror she held.
The enchanted surface clearly reflected Umbridge's pink figure as she moved slowly, almost hesitantly through the corridor outside.
When Umbridge's gaze finally fell upon Flick standing motionless in the corner of the corridor, she stopped moving abruptly, as if she'd walked into an invisible wall.
Her entire body visibly stiffened for a moment.
Even through the mirror's somewhat blurry view, Harry could vaguely make out the flash of panic and fear on her face. After lingering frozen in place for several seconds, Umbridge ultimately made her choice. She turned sharply back and began walking away, back the way she'd come.
"She's just... leaving? Just like that?" Hermione asked in a low, incredulous voice, her eyes still fixed on the pink figure that was gradually receding and diminishing in the mirror's display.
"Looks that way," Harry confirmed with relief, and a smile of satisfaction appeared on his face. "She's probably afraid of Flick now after what happened last time. I don't think she'll bother us as long as Flick's there."
Several nearby students who'd gathered to watch the mirror let out relieved breaths and returned to practice.
Of course, as Harry correctly judged, Umbridge absolutely didn't dare approach anywhere near Flick again, not after their previous traumatic encounter.
The memory of those sharp branches and the sensation of falling was still far too vivid and frightening.
However, safe in the corridor and putting distance between herself and the Treant...
"Just you wait, you little beast," she muttered venomously under her breath.
After hissing those threatening words to herself, she immediately turned and began walking back toward her own garishly decorated office in another part of the castle.
She needed to check on the response to her formal request. Surely the letter had arrived by now.
At that very moment, as if summoned by her thoughts, a large brown owl happened to fly in through her office window just as she arrived. The bird swooped low and dropped a sealed letter directly onto her desk wit before departing again without waiting for treats.
Umbridge snatched up the envelope immediately, her fingers were trembling slightly with anticipation. She tore it open without bothering to preserve the seal and unfolded the parchment inside, her eyes began scanning rapidly across the text.
As she read the contents, a cold, satisfied smile slowly spread across her toad-like face, wrinkling it into an expression of pure vindictive pleasure.
"Very good," she murmured to herself with deep satisfaction, reading and rereading certain phrases. "Excellent. It seems we'll be able to deal with this little nuisance very, very soon."
At this moment, standing alone in her pink office and gloating over the letter, Umbridge still didn't fully realize what she would actually be facing when the Committee entered that forest.
October 30th
Two days later, the calendar turned to October 30th—the day before Halloween.
Tomorrow would bring the traditional Halloween feast with all its decorations and festivities, and Adrian was currently spending his afternoon helping deal with preparations, specifically those enormous pumpkins that Hagrid grew each year beside his hut.
Hagrid worked at an incredible scale. He was carefully carving pumpkin lanterns with his massive hands—hands that looked like they should be too large and clumsy for such delicate work but somehow managed it through long practice. He worked with surprising precision despite the size difference.
While he carved, occasionally looking up from his work, he kept glancing at Adrian with hopeful anticipation, like a child about to ask for something he knew probably wasn't possible but couldn't help trying anyway.
"Tell me honestly, Adrian," Hagrid finally asked in his characteristically booming voice, "could you possibly find the kind of pumpkin that could walk around on its own? Like those Treants you've got living in the Forbidden Forest, but in pumpkin form? That would be absolutely brilliant for the Halloween decorations—imagine dozens of walking jack-o'-lanterns!"
His eyes were bright with enthusiasm at the imagined spectacle.
Adrian paused in his own pumpkin preparation work and shook his head. "I'm afraid there aren't any walking pumpkins anywhere in the world yet, Hagrid. At least none that I've encountered or read about in any reliable text."
Hagrid's face fell slightly, his enthusiasm was deflating like a punctured balloon. He sighed with disappointment, his massive shoulders were drooping. "Oh. That's such a terrible shame... would've been something special to see..."
"But," Adrian added thoughtfully, a slightly mischievous glint appearing in his eyes, "there are exploding ones that I've successfully cultivated. Quite explosive actually. With enough destructive power concentrated in each pumpkin to blow your entire hut and probably a good portion of the surrounding area completely sky-high."
During his recent experimental period, he had indeed mutated and created many plants with strange, unusual, and sometimes completely impractical functions and properties.
Unfortunately, most of these botanical experiments were of little practical use to anyone—the only one that might have genuine practical application might be these volatile exploding pumpkins.
They could serve as organic grenades or magical landmines, theoretically.
Once his cooking skills improved a bit more and he'd perfected the technique, he'd seriously considered the idea of sending Umbridge a few beautifully decorated pumpkin pies he'd made himself, fresh from his own kitchen.
With special ingredients. Very special.
The thought made him smile.
Hearing Adrian's casual words about explosive pumpkins and destroyed buildings, Hagrid's eyes went wide with alarm. He quickly waved his enormous hands frantically in front of him in rejection.
"Merlin's beard! No, no, no! That won't do at all!" He exclaimed, his voice climbing even higher than usual with panic. "I don't want exploding pumpkins anywhere near my hut! Or Fang! Absolutely not! Regular pumpkins are just fine, thank you very much!"
Adrian chuckled at Hagrid's reaction, finding his fright rather amusing. "Don't worry, Hagrid. I'm not actually going to give you any exploding pumpkins. Your hut is safe. Probably."
Hagrid didn't look completely reassured by that "probably."
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