BOOM!
The sound was absolutely deafening—like a thunderclap at point-blank range, or a battering ram striking a castle gate. The impact shook the ground and sent tremors through the earth beneath everyone's feet.
The Treant that had been scorched and damaged by MacNair's strange blue flames, its trunk were still bearing large charred patches and smoking faintly, its wood was blackened but its fury completely unextinguished and raised its enormous palm.
Then it swatted down with tremendous force and speed at MacNair, treating the human executioner like nothing more than an annoying insect that needed to be crushed.
MacNair's eyes went wide with terror. His combat training and survival instincts kicked in immediately, overriding conscious thought.
He rolled aside desperately, frantically, attempting to dodge the fatal strike through pure speed and agility.
In terms of results and pure survival, he did manage to avoid the absolute brunt of the devastating blow with his body. But his right hand failed to pull away completely in time.
CRACK!
The sound that followed was genuinely sickening, horrible. A wet, crunching noise that was simultaneously the sharp snap of multiple bones shattering like dry twigs and the crushing, pulverizing sound of flesh and wood being ground together under pressure.
MacNair let out a piercing, agonized scream that tore from his throat with such force it seemed likely to damage his vocal cords.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
The massive Treant palm lifted slowly, rising back up to reveal what it had created. Where MacNair had been crouched moments before, there was now a small crater pressed into the forest earth.
And in that place, mixed with dirt and leaves and scattered wood fragments...
MacNair's right hand had been completely, utterly flattened into an indistinguishable pulp of crushed flesh, shattered bone, and thick blood. The hand was now literally part of the ground, stuck to the bottom of the small pit the impact had created.
His wand lay broken into several pieces scattered around the impact site.
It was truly, genuinely gruesome to witness. Several Ministry officials made strangled sounds of horror. One actually turned away to vomit.
Umbridge and the other Ministry officials were frozen, genuinely frightened and horrified by this brutal scene before them. The sudden, graphic violence had shattered their assumptions about control and superiority.
For several seconds, they stood paralyzed, shortly completely unsure what to do or how to respond to this situation. Fight? Flee? Surrender?
However, despite the shock and horror, the well-trained Aurors accompanying the expedition managed to maintain their composure. Years of dealing with dangerous situations kicked in automatically.
They still held their wands up defensively with steady hands, and shouted in unison with coordination:
"Protego! PROTEGO MAXIMA!"
Several translucent, shimmering magical barriers instantly materialized and wove together in a complex overlapping pattern, forming a multilayered defensive line between the Ministry group and the advancing Treants.
But even as they cast these protective spells, every single Auror knew in their hearts that this magical defense was incredibly fragile, pathetically inadequate against the overwhelming physical power the Treants had just so brutally demonstrated.
The Aurors' training and combat experience kept them outwardly calm in this desperate moment despite their internal terror. But their minds were racing, calculating odds, looking for escape routes.
They had to find a way to retreat immediately before they all died here.
Umbridge's face had gone pale, all color was draining away until she looked like a corpse already. Her small eyes were huge, darting frantically between threats.
Watching the Treants advancing steadily step by step with determination, then glancing down at MacNair squirming and screaming in agony on the blood-soaked ground, she finally, finally recovered a small shred of rationality from her extreme shock and overwhelming terror.
Or rather, her most basic survival instinct finally overpowered her pride and vindictiveness.
"Wait! WAIT! Stop! Please!" she shrieked desperately, her normally pretentious high voice was now genuinely distorted and made ugly by raw fear. "We... we can talk about this! Negotiate! We don't have to fight! There's been a terrible misunderstanding!"
Her voice cracked on the last word.
However, the Treants didn't halt their steady approach at her desperate plea. They showed no sign of having heard her at all.
One large Treant had already raised its enormous arm high, ready to crush them all like insects.
At this moment, from his position outside the combat zone, Adrian made a subtle gesture toward Bart with one hand.
Burt received the signal. Its massive body paused slightly, stopping in place, and the remaining Treants followed suit.
It lowered its head, looking down at Umbridge, its deep voice booming like thunder: "Leave this place. The Treants do not welcome you. And then... never set foot in our territory again."
Umbridge nearly collapsed to the muddy ground. Only desperate willpower kept her standing. She nodded frantically, desperately, her whole body was shaking.
"Yes! Yes, of course! We're leaving! Right away! Immediately!" she babbled incoherently in her haste to agree, to appease, to survive. "The Ministry of Magic absolutely respects the territorial sovereignty of all intelligent life forms! We mean no offense! This was all just a terrible miscommunication!"
Even while speaking, while promising anything to be allowed to live, she was frantically signaling with wild hand gestures to the Aurors to grab the still-screaming MacNair and prepare for immediate evacuation.
"Get him! Carry him! Move! NOW!" she hissed.
Two Aurors moved quickly to MacNair's side, levitating his body with their wands since physically touching his destroyed arm would cause unbearable additional pain. They performed quick emergency stasis charms to slow the bleeding.
As Umbridge's group began their hasty, humiliating retreat from the Treants' encirclement, the massive Treant bodies remained exactly where they stood, watching them with cold eyes.
The journey back through the Forbidden Forest toward safety was in complete, oppressive silence.
The Ministry officials kept glancing around nervously, jumping at every sound, expecting ambush at any moment.
It wasn't until they finally, mercifully reached the Forbidden Forest entrance that Umbridge's stiff posture relaxed slightly.
She immediately bent forward, hands on her knees, gasping for air in great desperate gulps like she'd been drowning. Her face was still stony pale.
The other officials who had accompanied her on this catastrophic expedition weren't in much better condition physically or mentally.
Only the professional Aurors remained seemingly composed and vigilant, constantly scanning their surroundings for threats, maintaining defensive positions despite their own obvious exhaustion.
What about Adrian and Dumbledore during this chaotic retreat?
They had been quietly, inconspicuously following at the very back of the group throughout the entire withdrawal, maintaining distance, like two silent shadows observing from the periphery.
This outcome was undoubtedly within their general expectations. Or rather, it was actually even worse than expected.
Adrian had originally thought, that Umbridge would exercise at least some basic restraint and caution after seeing Bart's true transformed form. That things wouldn't necessarily escalate to violence and injury.
But it seemed he had been far too conservative in his assessment of Umbridge's stupidity and vindictiveness. She'd pushed until the Treants had no choice but to respond with force.
Some people simply refused to learn until pain taught them.
As for Dumbledore, he had remained like a detached outsider throughout the entire confrontation. Taking no action whatsoever except to position himself safely and watch.
When the Aurors carefully laid MacNair's levitated body down on the grass at the forest edge to perform more complete medical treatment now that they were out of danger, Umbridge leaned heavily against a large tree for physical support.
Her legs were still shaking badly. Her breath came in scruffy gasps.
That garish pink coat she always wore was now thoroughly stained with mud and forest debris. Her hair had come completely undone from its severe style, now hanging disheveled and wild around her face. Several leaves were stuck in it.
She looked utterly, completely wretched.
After several minutes of deep breathing and effort to calm herself, after the adrenaline and terror had somewhat subsided and rational thought was returning, Umbridge's gaze slowly swept across the group until it landed on and fixed upon the ever-silent Dumbledore.
Her lingering fear instantly transformed into sharp, burning accusation.
She abruptly straightened up from her leaning position, and pointed one shaking finger at Dumbledore with accusation.
"Headmaster Dumbledore," She said loudly, her voice still somewhat unsteady but gaining strength through anger, "perhaps you can give me a satisfactory explanation right now. Why exactly is Hogwarts harboring such extremely dangerous monsters on school grounds?"
Her voice climbed higher, and became shriller. "And yet the Ministry of Magic received absolutely no information whatsoever about this threat! This is completely unacceptable! This is criminal negligence!"
Adrian, standing a few feet away and watching this display, really genuinely wanted to tell Umbridge something important and darkly humorous.
Adrian really wanted to tell Umbridge that the tree she was currently leaning against was also a Treant in disguise.
But... well, it didn't really matter anymore at this poin
Facing Umbridge's aggressive barrage of accusations, her finger still pointed at him like a weapon, Dumbledore didn't lose his temper or composure even slightly.
He simply stood there calmly, peacefully, meeting Umbridge's furious, slightly unhinged gaze with steady eyes. His expression showed patience mixed with helplessness at her continued refusal to accept responsibility.
"Professor Umbridge," his voice remained gentle, infuriatingly reasonable when she wanted anger she could fight against, "I believe that before we entered the Forbidden Forest, I specifically warned everyone present.
I explained quite clearly that Treants are a very proud, dignified race with their own complex culture and social structures. They are not mindless monsters or beasts to be ordered about, but rather intelligent guardians of this ancient land who deserve respect."
His tone took on subtle reproach. "I very strongly suggested at that time that it would be best to approach them in a gentle, diplomatic, respectful manner."
Dumbledore paused again briefly, his gaze sweeping deliberately over MacNair still moaning in semi-consciousness on the ground, and then across the entire group of traumatized, shaken officials.
When he continued, his tone had become notably colder, and harder.
"Most regrettably, my suggestion and advice appears not to have been heeded or taken seriously. The consequences of that choice are now quite evident."
"Then as Headmaster of this institution, didn't you plan to do anything to intervene?" Umbridge persisted shrilly, refusing to accept any responsibility. "This is a serious dereliction of duty! You should have controlled those creatures!"
Dumbledore looked at her deeply.
"In fact, Professor Umbridge," he spoke without mercy now, his voice clear and reaching to everyone present, "until your arrival and intervention today, the Treants and Hogwarts had always maintained a completely harmonious, peaceful relationship. For years. There were no incidents, no conflicts, no injuries."
He let that sink in, then delivered the killing blow.
"And you, through your actions and choices here today, have just brought Hogwarts a great deal of serious trouble and potential danger that didn't previously exist."
These devastating words bounced all of Umbridge's accusations directly back at her, returning them with interest, going even further to place blame exactly where it belonged.
Umbridge's face underwent a fascinating color transformation—from her previous pale white to an unhealthy, mottled greenish shade that showed nausea or rage or both. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a landed fish.
She desperately searched for words, for any argument or refutation she could throw back at him. But she found herself momentarily, humiliatingly unable to produce any response.
Indeed, she realized with horror, if this disastrous operation had genuinely angered the Treants enough to seek revenge or retaliation, Hogwarts School itself would undoubtedly be the most severely, instantly affected target.
After all, the Treants lived in the Forbidden Forest, literally on Hogwarts' doorstep. Their territory shared a border with school grounds. If they decided to attack in force...
Umbridge had no idea that the Treants all ultimately obeyed Adrian's commands.
"How many..." She began, then cleared her throat roughly and tried again, changing the subject desperately, trying to regain some initiative or at least gather intelligence. "How many Treants like the ones we just encountered are there in total?"
Dumbledore smoothly turned his thoughtful gaze toward Adrian, silently turning to the actual expert on this particular subject.
Honestly, even Dumbledore himself couldn't accurately estimate or provide precise numbers about the current Treant population.
He knew there were many. He didn't know exactly how many.
Adrian blinked once, appearing to consider the question carefully, then answered in a remarkably relaxed, casual tone as if discussing the weather forecast: "Oh, not many, really. Roughly a few hundred, I'd estimate. Maybe more. Hard to get an exact count since they move around and some are always in tree form."
He shrugged slightly, as if this were completely normal and unremarkable.
"A few... a few hundred?"
Umbridge actually drew in a sharp breath at this number. Her eyes went even wider. Her face somehow went paler.
Several Ministry officials also reacted with alarm, exchanging worried glances.
This revelation made things exponentially more complicated and dangerous.
If the number of Treants was only what she had just witnessed, there might still be ways to deal with them through superior numbers or specialized tactics.
But with this many? With several hundred of those massive, incredibly powerful, magically resistant creatures?
It had to be said honestly, this was very, extremely troublesome.
This could even legitimately be considered a major diplomatic incident requiring high-level ministerial intervention!
She let her imagination run wild for just a moment—tried to picture what it would actually look like if several hundred enraged Treants charged in toward a target. What kind of destruction they could cause.
Forget everything else, forget magic or tactics or defense. Just the physical trampling force alone, the sheer mass and momentum of several hundred creatures each weighing multiple tons, moving at speed...
They could flatten Hogwarts completely. Reduce the castle to rubble within hours.
The Ministry of Magic absolutely could not, under any circumstances, allow themselves to become permanent enemies with the Treants! The cost would be catastrophic!
"You never told me these numbers!" Umbridge shouted loudly, her voice climbing toward hysteria again, looking for anyone to blame besides herself. "The Ministry of Magic knew absolutely nothing about this population! This is—"
Adrian calmly spread his hands in a gesture of complete innocence. His expression said very clearly: How is this my fault?
"Professor Umbridge, you never asked."
This simple, understated remark delivered with such casual reasonableness was the final straw that completely broke Umbridge's remaining composure and dignity.
She stood there, mouth opening and closing, unable to speak any response to this undeniable truth.
She said absolutely nothing more, having no words left, no arguments remaining. Simply stared at Adrian with impotent fury and frustrated helplessness.
Finally, she merely signaled to her subordinates with a livid, furious face gesturing frantically for them to quickly finish treating MacNair's injuries as much as possible so they could leave this cursed place.
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