~ 💎 WEEKLY POWER GOALS 💎🔥 60→1ch | 100→2ch | 200→5ch ⏰ Resets Monday! Thanks!
Umbridge's fingers twitched in the air, as if trying to grab onto something. They finally retreated to her sides.
Black smoke still clung to her entire hand, coiling slowly around her wrist. She gave it a fleeting, uneasy glance. As if not wanting it anywhere near her, she placed her hand on Dumbledore's desk. Her toad-like, pale, puffy face wore a look of forced, blustering arrogance.
"You know, Dumbledore, you cannot refuse the Department of Mysteries." Umbridge's voice had shed its nauseating, sugary sweet quality. It was sharper now. Dryer. Like she couldn't quite catch her breath. "It's not just Hogwarts that has magics like the Book of Admittance. You are well aware of the chaos it would cause if his name appears on a plaque in the Department, yet you keep him locked out of Hogwarts, after the Unspeakables have accepted his application."
"I didn't apply for anything," Anthony cut in.
Umbridge gave him a very odd look, then turned her gaze back to Dumbledore. Her wide mouth was shut tight, unusually so. It looked like a flattened toad.
"Alas, Henry, I'm afraid you did," Dumbledore said. "Look. Your signature is right here."
Only then did Anthony notice several more pieces of parchment had appeared on the desk without him noticing. Among them was a letter of application written in an unfamiliar script. At the bottom was a signature. It looked like his name. It looked like his handwriting.
The other two remained silent as he examined the signature with deep suspicion. Dumbledore flicked his wand. The black smoke vanished from Umbridge's hand. Pale-faced, she pulled the ring off her finger and shoved it into a pocket.
For a while, the only sound in the Headmaster's office was a soft, grinding noise. Fawkes craned his neck, diligently chewing on a small piece of wood that had fallen from his perch. Anthony looked at the date on the parchment. He suddenly remembered.
"It's that report!" he said. "The one we had to sign to acknowledge receipt… one of those professor teaching survey reports, right? But, how…" He shook his head. The 'how' wasn't important right now. "Whatever the method, I did not submit this application. And I am not going to the Department of Mysteries. One hundred percent, no."
Umbridge looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Why? You cannot refuse the Department of Mysteries."
If he didn't despise her so much, Anthony might have laughed. "Oh, if 'I don't want to' isn't compelling enough, try this: if I change jobs too frequently, my résumé will look less attractive."
"But the Ministry… not just the British Ministry, the whole wizarding world…"
"Simple. You can fire me," Anthony offered. "Since I was hired without my knowledge, presumably I can be fired without it too. Do you have an HR department? Personnel? No, I suppose not. Who should I consult about Ministry hiring and firing policies, then? Maybe I can ask them how to get you fired while I'm at it."
Umbridge looked utterly bewildered. Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle.
"Henry," he explained, "the Department of Mysteries doesn't operate that way. Unspeakables are different from most Ministry employees. They guard too many dangerous magical secrets. So, I have a simpler proposal."
"What is it, sir?"
"Well, shall we simply pretend this never happened?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I never received the letter. Henry never signed anything. Problem solved, wouldn't you say, Dolores?"
"But—"
"Ah, yes. I almost forgot." Dumbledore cut her off cheerfully. He pulled a scroll from one of the many piles on his desk. "I believe, according to the prior agreement between Hogwarts and the Ministry, the term of the High Inquisitor's investigation is nearing its end."
"You must be mistaken, Dumbledore," Umbridge said, instantly alert. "The investigation period is one year. You cannot evade our scrutiny, or conduct any… unsavory little activities… before the year's end."
Dumbledore unrolled the scroll. "No, I believe it says 'end of the school year,' not 'end of the year.' A misremembering on your part, Dolores. Or perhaps a failure to read closely."
Anthony looked at the scroll along with Umbridge. On the line Dumbledore indicated, a long, looping 'school' sat awkwardly above the round 'year,' accompanied by a caret insertion mark.
Umbridge made a short, choked sound, as if someone had grabbed her throat.
Dumbledore studied it thoughtfully. "Rather conspicuous, isn't it? Strange you didn't notice."
Umbridge took a sharp, deep breath. Her chest heaved. Her expression flickered between fury and triumphant glee, finally settling on a full-body tremor of excitement. "Dumbledore… you altered a Ministry document? Does the Minister know? Does Cornelius know? I need to—" Her eyes darted around the office. She lunged for the door, grabbed the handle, and yanked.
It didn't budge.
She tried again. Her shoulders slumped. She let go, turned. She seemed to have calmed.
"Oh, Dumbledore, you don't truly wish to make an enemy of the Ministry, do you?" Her voice was syrupy sweet again. "I was too hasty. I mean, the Ministry and Hogwarts are allies in so many matters. Everything is negotiable."
She walked back to the desk. Hesitated. At Dumbledore's gesture, she sank back into her chair.
"Excellent," Dumbledore said.
"It… it must be a misunderstanding," Umbridge forced out.
Dumbledore watched her with keen interest.
"I mean, there must have been a miscommunication. That's why the agreement you received states the investigation ends at the school year's end," Umbridge said, the words tumbling out. "It's obvious, then. It must have been a problem with the mail room's charms. Or the owls. That would also explain why you received a letter about Professor Anthony and the Department of Mysteries—see, here's my signature too, but I have no memory of it. Professor Anthony, you have no memory of this application either, correct? The Department of Mysteries… it's a delicate matter… quite delicate, but if it's an owl error, I'm sure we can find a solution through open communication and cooperation. The most important thing is to avoid misunderstandings."
"I believe you also mentioned Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked. "Is there a problem with his correspondence as well?"
"Oh, no, I shouldn't think so. I just meant to inform him about the mail room issue," Umbridge said. "The Department of Magical Maintenance has been somewhat lax recently. I hope Cornelius will remind them."
Anthony pressed. "Would he have received a mistaken report, though? Like a Hogwarts teaching quality survey? And exam results? Can owls mess up that much?"
"What survey report?" Dumbledore asked, his interest piqued.
Anthony suddenly remembered he hadn't had a chance to tell Dumbledore about that before being blindsided by a job offer from the Department of Mysteries.
Before Umbridge could interrupt with another distraction, he quickly laid it all out for the Headmaster. From Professor Burbage learning the Ministry had received a report about 'poor magical performance from Muggle-born students,' to Umbridge deliberately picking Muggle-borns for detentions to sabotage their exam grades.
After recounting Colin Creevey's words, Anthony added, "So, sir, rather than have her stay in the castle next term, I'd sooner go to the Department of Mysteries. Although, they don't seem terribly skilled at containing 'dark creatures' either." He glanced at the pocket holding Umbridge's ring. "Then again, if I lose control, I might just cause trouble after trouble. Until people start asking which idiot thought locking a Necromancer inside the Ministry was a good idea."
"I don't think that's a good proposal, Henry," Dumbledore said softly. His bright blue eyes burned with anger, but none of it was directed at Anthony.
"Sir?"
"I've changed my mind." Dumbledore stood up from behind his desk. He strode to the door, flung it open, and spoke to Umbridge. "Out."
Umbridge stood, startled. "Dumbledore?"
"Out. We have nothing more to discuss," Dumbledore said calmly. "Leave. Leave this castle. I will not permit you to harm my students any further."
"But, Dumbledore—"
"Do not make me repeat myself a third time," Dumbledore said. "Do give my regards to Cornelius. Inform him that Hogwarts is not a place he needs to guard against, and it requires no High Inquisitor. Furthermore, Henry will not be going to the Ministry."
"That Inquisitorial agreement—it's enchanted!" Umbridge shrieked. "You cannot dismiss me, Dumbledore! If you dare to alter or break it—"
"Enough." Dumbledore gave his wand a flick—Anthony hadn't even seen him draw it—and Umbridge's feet slid out from under her. She fell. Then, like a pink billiard ball, she shot through the doorway—fast, silent, and precise—tumbling down the spiral staircase.
Dumbledore leaned out the door and called down the stairs. "Good afternoon, Mr. Creevey. Ah, Filius, perfect. Would you be so kind as to escort Dolores out of the castle with all due haste? Her tenure as High Inquisitor appears to have concluded."
Even through the spiral staircase, a few seconds later, Anthony could hear the cheers erupting in the corridor outside.
Dumbledore closed the door quietly. He turned. His eyes met Anthony's.
"You truly have no intention of going to the Ministry, correct?" Dumbledore asked. "I haven't obstructed your future career prospects?"
"Not at all, sir," Anthony smiled, then asked with a trace of worry, "Was she telling the truth? Is the agreement enchanted?"
"Possibly," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Fawkes?"
Fawkes opened one sleepy eye. He looked at the parchment Dumbledore held out. He took it gently in his beak. Stretched his wings. Then, with elegant grace, he glided from his perch to the fireplace and dropped the agreement into the flames.
The fire roared, leaping high. A bolt of purplish-red spell-light shot out of the hearth—and straight into Fawkes's open beak. The phoenix tilted his head back, stretched his neck, gave a little shake, then spread his wings and flew to the top of a cabinet. He tucked his head under his wing and began preening his feathers.
Dumbledore watched the entire performance. Only then did he seem to remember Anthony was there. He turned. "You were saying something about an agreement, Henry?"
"I've forgotten," Anthony said.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
📚 BOOK COMPLETED ON PATREON!📚
This story has reached its conclusion on my Patreon!
🔥 Full story available now
💎 Exclusive bonus content & early access to new books
👉 Join my Patreon community today!
✨patreon(.)com/GoldenLong
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
