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A glint of humor flashed behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles. He settled back into his chair and said briskly, "Now, Henry, what was it you wanted to tell me earlier?"
"Me? Just what I told you, Professor. I've already said it all," Anthony said, somewhat confused.
"Then, is there anything else you'd be willing to share with me?" Dumbledore asked. "Anything at all."
His gaze was sharp, yet gentle, as if he already knew everything.
Anthony felt he was expecting a good topic. Perhaps Necromancy. Perhaps Anthony himself. Perhaps, as a powerful wizard, Dumbledore had noticed something happen when Umbridge touched his shoulder. Perhaps it was all the same topic anyway.
But he didn't want to talk to Dumbledore about it. Not about sour milk or fragrant apple pie. Not about magic bursting its banks. Not about Quirrell's screaming soul, or a grave splitting open in spring, or a neighbor collapsing to the ground. Not now. Not with Dumbledore, a living man. Maybe he could ask the Bloody Baron. But how would he even phrase the question, when the doubt itself seemed to slip through the cracks of language?
He looked around. Parchments were scattered on the table. The cushion on Umbridge's empty chair was still slightly dented. The fire in the grate trembled and slowly died. A strange sense of unreality washed over him, as if this was all a shaky dream. Umbridge was leaving? Dumbledore stood up, told her to "get out," and she just… left? Like that?
"There is one thing, Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore asked gently, "What is it, Henry?"
"Well, since Professor Umbridge is leaving…" Anthony mused, "could we give her empty office to Professor Lockhart for his club activities? I kind of miss the staff room."
"That would require Minerva's approval, but unless someone else has claimed that room, I don't see why she'd object. What time is it?" Dumbledore gazed thoughtfully at the grandfather clock between the cabinets before turning back. "Ah, I imagine Dobby has already helped Dolores pack all her belongings and moved them to the front gates. If you're quick, Henry, you might catch Minerva outside the Transfiguration classroom and tell her your suggestion."
…
"What?" said Professor McGonagall.
She stood at the classroom doorway, her face tight as she stared at Anthony. A few younger Hufflepuffs ducked their heads, squeezing past them along the wall before scurrying away, glancing back repeatedly.
"Yeah, Professor Dumbledore said her office should be empty by now," Anthony said with a smile.
Professor McGonagall asked slowly, "Now?"
"Are you alright, Minerva?" Anthony asked, concerned. "Why do you look angry?"
"Why do I look angry?" Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up, repeating his question in a strange tone. "No, I'm delighted. Absolutely delighted. For months, I've been telling Dumbledore he couldn't let Umbridge swan about the castle, throwing her weight around. I told him she interfered with our classes, deducted House Points on a whim, and was hell-bent on finding evidence against him. And every single time, every time, the answer was either nonsense about Azkaban, Pettigrew, You-Know-Who, and the Ministry, or platitudes like 'the time is not yet right' or 'I am not omnipotent, Minerva'! Sometimes, he'd just vanish!"
Anthony flinched at her sudden outburst and quickly looked around. Thankfully, all the students were long gone. A few ghosts drifted through the wall, chatting and laughing. They met Anthony's eyes, fell silent, and tactfully drifted back through the wall.
"I told him, keeping Umbridge here does no one any good—not the students, not the staff, not this castle. But he insisted it would help the students understand how the Ministry currently operates and learn how to deal with such individuals. Look at them now! Look at the Muggle-born fifth and seventh years! Are we to send them off to find jobs with such unfair grades?"
Just then, a heavy THUMP sounded. The windows of the Transfiguration classroom seemed to rattle.
Professor McGonagall spun around and strode into the classroom. Anthony followed her through the rows of desks and past the blackboard covered in complex diagrams. He nearly got hit in the head by a drawer that suddenly popped open. Without looking back, McGonagall flicked her wand, turning a button-eyed rabbit that had peeked out back into a velvet cushion and stuffing it back in. THUMP! Another dull impact. McGonagall yanked the window open and leaned out. Anthony heard faint, excited, chattering laughter.
"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall called sternly. "Jordan, come here!"
Lee Jordan seemed to hesitate for a moment, considering pretending not to hear, but he finally turned and trudged reluctantly to the window.
"What is it, Professor McGonagall?"
THUMP!
McGonagall glared at him. "Where are you running off to—and what is that on your head?"
"What?" Jordan scratched his cheek. "Er, bit of a stomach ache…" He wore a hat that seemed to be made of dragon dung, mixed with some dried, withered grass stalks.
THUMP!
"Jordan!"
Jordan spoke rapidly. "But I heard Umbridge's stuff got tossed out the front doors! She tried to bring it back in, but Peeves is guarding the entrance. Every time she throws something back, Peeves grabs it! She's wrestling him for her suitcases!" He looked at Professor McGonagall hopefully. "Can I go see? Just a look."
"Just a look," Professor McGonagall said. "And get that ridiculous thing off your head!" But Jordan was already scampering off cheerfully before she finished the first half of her sentence.
Professor McGonagall stood by the window for a moment, letting out a long sigh. "Well. Albus waves his wand, poof, she's gone." She shook her head.
THUMP!
"So," Anthony said, "can we go take a look, Minerva?"
…
The first thing they heard upon reaching the Entrance Hall was: "She kept a toilet in her office!"
"Shut up!" Umbridge shrieked. Several absurdly large trunks hovered beside her, but three more were in Peeves's clutches. Peeves sat cross-legged mid-air, an open trunk on his lap.
"Umbridge, Umbridge, you're a lazy bint," Peeves giggled, tossing a pristine, translucent porcelain toilet and two other trunks back and forth in the air. "Toilet by the bedside, no wonder you smell a bit."
"I said shut up!" Umbridge howled, furious. "That's—that's a suspicious magical artifact, still under inspection! It's still Ministry property! Give it back, you wretched ghost!" She fired a spell at Peeves, but it passed straight through him, hit her own open trunk, ricocheted to the ground, and elicited gasps from the gathered students.
"Toilet, come!" Umbridge shouted. Her spell sparked another wave of snickers.
Peeves, gripping the toilet rim, was provoked.
"Ooooh, lazy bint is angry! Lazy bint wants her toilet!"
He let the other two trunks crash heavily to the ground. Cackling, he hurled the toilet straight at her. Umbridge, wand raised, swiped left and right, missing the whooshing projectile entirely. She scrambled to slam the heavy oak door shut, hiding behind it with practiced ease as the students roared with laughter—DONG. The toilet collided with the solid wood.
Peeves threw with such force that Anthony felt the ground tremble underfoot. The impact echoed under the high ceiling. Anthony was mildly surprised the toilet didn't shatter.
"PEEVES!" Filch rushed over, brandishing a broom. He looked at Umbridge outside, then at Peeves above. The flesh on his face twitched. He snarled at the surrounding students, "Clear off, all of you! Clear off!"
"Haha, Filchy!" Peeves's eyes lit up. "Peevesy, heart so grand, helps you clean this castle land!" He ducked his head into the trunk, rummaged, and pulled out an ink bottle. He shook it, tried to twist the cap off, failed, made a face, and dove back into his treasure trove. All sorts of things rained down: parchments, quills, seals. Umbridge shrieked in alarm and summoned a seal into her hand; Peeves, busy digging, ignored her. Finally, Peeves found a strange metal implement.
"Burbage's herb trowel!" Professor Sprout whispered. She had appeared behind Anthony and McGonagall in the corner, watching from a distance.
Peeves tapped the ink bottle cap with the trowel (Professor Sprout winced), popping it open. He pursed his lips and pfft—a cloud of black ink droplets filled the air. Students shrieked and ducked. Filch swore profusely. Peeves giggled with delight, turning several somersaults before plunging into Umbridge's open trunk. He yanked things out and threw them everywhere: a broken statue, matching jewelry sets, two or three odd, screaming snuffboxes, crystal balls swirling with smoke, a wooden wedge with a brownish stain on the tip, a tattered old notebook, a thick scroll of blood-red parchment… Sometimes he took aim at Filch's forehead, watching gleefully as he dodged angrily.
"Oh dear, Argus…" Professor Sprout said sympathetically, pulling out her wand.
However, just as Peeves was about to pull out a long, black, silver-edged box, the trunk snapped shut. Click-click-click. It locked itself.
"Playtime is over, Peeves," Umbridge panted, wand raised. She'd taken the chance during Peeves's antics to summon her other trunks to her side.
Peeves, noticing the two trunks beside him were gone, let out a frustrated, indignant sound. He swooped to the ground, scooped up the scattered items along with gravel, dead leaves, and insects from the doorstep, and hurled the messy heap at Umbridge. Professor Sprout quietly Summoned the herb trowel to herself.
"Pack away!" Umbridge cried, frantically opening one of her trunks and sucking everything inside.
"Add this, Peeves!" Jordan yelled, snatching his hat off and tossing it to Peeves. Peeves wrinkled his nose at it, then a malicious grin spread across his face, eyes gleaming with mischief. He crushed the hat—a wave of stench erupted—and threw it at Umbridge, whose face was now purple with rage. Whoosh. The dragon dung vanished into Umbridge's trunk.
Jordan jumped for joy. "See, Fred, George! I knew it! I knew that thing would be useful someday!"
The Weasley twins high-fived him, pulling out their wands eagerly.
"Hey, George, bet you a Galleon?" Fred said, eyeing Umbridge's trunk.
"Alright, I bet it's the pink one."
"I bet it's this one." Fred raised his wand. "Serpentine Bind!"
The trunk, still clattering as it ingested debris, suddenly swelled like it had eaten too much of the wrong thing—double, triple its size—BANG! Dozens of brightly-colored things slithered out of the gaping trunk mouth. They coiled around Umbridge's ankles as she stamped furiously, tangling her, threatening to drown her. Umbridge swatted at them, trying to clear her vision. She spun around several times, disoriented, and toppled onto the stone steps.
As laughter erupted, Professor McGonagall's brow furrowed. She sighed with worry and drew her wand. "Relashio!"
The Roger Snakes puffed up a size larger, entwining Umbridge with renewed vigor. "Oh! Pre-defined spell-effect transference! Brilliant!" Professor Flitwick chirped, bouncing on his toes behind them to see the spectacle. "That must be Emery Sneed's work! He borrowed at least a dozen books on the subject from me! Marvelous! Sorry, Minerva."
"Wrong spell, Minerva," Anthony said, raising his wand. "Serpentine Release."
The Roger Snakes flowed away like water, revealing Umbridge's pale, furious, and terrified face. The Weasley twins turned in surprise, scanning their classmates until their eyes met the professors' in the corner (particularly Professor McGonagall's glare) and ducked their heads.
"No points, Minerva," Professor Flitwick said shrilly, patting her arm consolingly. "Merely some practical Charms homework, and they executed it splendidly."
A flicker of a proud smile touched Professor McGonagall's lips before she added, "And Lee Jordan…"
"That's a Herbology matter," Professor Sprout said lightly, turning and jumping. "Goodness! Albus, Severus, you gave me a start! When did you get here?"
"Not long," Dumbledore said with a smile, nodding to the professors who had all turned. He then moved past them to the center of the crowd. At the sight of him, Umbridge's rage seemed to cool somewhat. The students' grins faded, watching him intently. Even Peeves vanished silently after one glance from Dumbledore.
"Give my regards to Cornelius, Dolores," Dumbledore said pleasantly, giving a slight bow. "I hope Hogwarts left you with a favorable impression during your investigation. The castle is always open to the inquiries of the next Senior Undersecretary."
Umbridge, covered in dust and dirt, stared at him with bulging eyes for a long moment before forcing a smile onto her face. "Of course, Dumbledore. Such a pity our time together is ending. Thank you for your… assistance with the inquiry."
"Allow me to escort you to Hogsmeade, Dolores," Dumbledore said politely. He moved to Umbridge's side, took the levitating trunks from her, and began leading the way down the steps, towards the far side of the Black Lake.
…
No matter how the professors cajoled or ordered, the students lingered near the doors, unwilling to leave. Everyone's eyes sparkled with excitement, cheeks flushed. They whispered to their friends or gestured wildly while explaining to latecomers, bursting into laughter every now and then.
Eventually, the professors gave up trying to police them. Except for Filch, who gazed mournfully at the entrance, every member of staff was thrilled. Professor Trelawney arrived late, announcing she had foreseen this all along, which was why she remained utterly calm when Umbridge threatened to sack her, only indignant at the disrespect shown to a Seer. Professor McGonagall magnanimously refrained from comment.
After a while, Dumbledore's tall, thin figure reappeared at the gates. The students milling about froze, watching silently as he closed the door behind him. No trunks. No short, squat, bow-wearing, toad-like figure.
"You all remind me of Fawkes," Dumbledore said, stopping halfway and smiling kindly at the nearest student. "He looks at me just like that when I forget to bring him treats. Did I promise to fetch you a specific sweet from Honeydukes earlier?"
"N—no, Professor Dumbledore," the student stammered, face turning crimson, unable to utter another word.
"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry took a sharp breath.
Dumbledore turned. "Yes, Harry?"
"I was wondering… if it's okay to know… Umbridge… is she gone?"
Everyone held their breath, waiting.
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said. "The tenure of the Senior Undersecretary has concluded. She has left, and I suspect she will not be returning."
The students looked at each other. Then, a massive cheer erupted.
"She's gone! She's gone! She's GONE!" the Weasley twins shouted, banging on a nearby suit of armor, making it clang. "And she's never coming back!"
"We should have a party!" someone else yelled. "Cake! Ice cream! Pumpkin juice!"
"Go take a bath, Jordan!"
"Anyone want a Chocolate Frog?"
"Wait, she still has my complete set of Curses for Comical Calamities!"
"She's gone! Gone! Never coming back!"
Filch mumbled despondently, "The only one who knew how to treat students properly is gone…"
"That's my Roger Snake! Can I have it back?"
"She's GONE! GONE! GONE!" Jordan whooped, winding a few Roger Snakes around his neck and tearing around the Entrance Hall like a madman.
"Utter bedlam," Professor McGonagall said, frowning.
"We're off to tell the elves the good news," Professor Flitwick said happily. "Care to join us, Minerva? Today calls for a proper feast!"
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said. "Pomona? Henry? Severus?"
"Not now. I must write to Burbage immediately and tell her I have her trowel," Professor Sprout said, beaming.
Anthony grinned. "And tell her to send her best herbal tea."
Professor Sprout agreed. "And her best roasting-wood."
"I have little interest in joining a parade of celebratory lunacy," Snape said coldly. "If you prefer the company of chaos, cacophony, and imbecility, by all means, proceed."
"Relax, Severus," Professor Flitwick urged. "It is, at the very least, a day worth a smile."
BANG! The oak doors flew open again. Everyone tensed, eyes snapping to the entrance.
"Goodness, I've only just learned I've won the Most Charming Smile Award again, and you've already started celebrating?" Lockhart said. "Well, of course, a six-time winner of the Witch Weekly Most Charming Smile Award… It does sound rather impressive! But I try not to let these things go to my head anymore…"
His voice was drowned out by an even greater wave of cheers and laughter.
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