The return to Hogwarts was quiet, peaceful, and quick.
Once our entire procession, along with the Heads of House, reached the fireplaces in the Atrium, we headed straight back to the Headmaster's office without having to wait in line—there were more than enough fireplaces available. We returned in reverse order, so Madam Sprout went first, followed by Hannah, and then .
"How did it go?" Dumbledore asked imdiately. He was sitting at his desk, sorting through a significantly reduced stack of docunts.
Madam Sprout smiled and smoothed the folds of her brown robes.
"Quite fast, Albus. Almost too fast, even," she answered for all of us—which made sense, as Dumbledore had been looking directly at her when he asked the question.
"Is that so?"
"Yes. It felt like the trial was a re formality. Everything had been agreed upon in advance. No delays, tests, or expert reviews... I don't need to tell you how slowly our bureaucratic machine usually grinds."
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, stroking his beard and leaning back in his chair.
The fireplace flared to life behind us, and McGonagall stepped out with proud elegance. Stepping aside, she waited for Hermione and Ron to appear. My little sister stepped out first, followed by Ron. Of everyone present, he was the only one sporting traces of soot on his clothes—though, to his credit, it was only on the sleeve of his robes.
"Oh, co on..." he grumbled, imdiately trying to brush off his sleeve. "I can never get this right..."
"In that case," Dumbledore continued, turning his attention to us students, "you may go. I know firsthand how exhausting visits to the Ministry can be."
"Have a good day, Headmaster," I nodded in unison with Hannah.
After leaving the Headmaster's office and descending the spiral staircase, the four of us slowed our pace, and I turned to the others.
"Should we wait for the rest?"
"What's the point of waiting?" Ron grumbled. "I'd rather head to the Great Hall. Lunch is coming up, and all that..."
Ron ignored the faint air of disapproval his words had caused and set off toward the Great Hall, just as he'd said. Or at least, he headed in that general direction.
"He's incorrigible," Hermione sighed. "Well, Mordred take him."
"Exactly," Hannah nodded. "There's no point wasting your ti trying to fix other people."
"But people can be better..." my sister argued, which only drew smiles from the rest of us. "What?"
"People don't change, Granger..."
Malfoy's voice made Hermione whip around—the rest of us had already seen him approaching, along with the others: Pansy, Goldstein, and Patil.
"Malfoy," Hermione stated flatly. "Does that an you're still the sa petty, foul-mouthed brat you've always been?"
"More or less," he nodded indifferently. "Though pettiness isn't a character trait; it's a byproduct of one's ambitions. Small ambitions breed petty actions."
"A brilliant deduction. Quite out of character for you," Hermione snarked.
"He's right," I said, interrupting their usual bickering. "Shall we talk? Or is everything pretty much clear?"
The group glanced around, but the corridor was empty. Drawing my wand, I traced a line in the air, erecting a do of privacy charms around us.
"There's really nothing to talk about," Pansy shrugged, crossing her arms beneath her chest. "We got rid of Umbridge, achieved our common goal, and the Minister's reputation is stained..."
"That last part is what worries ," Hermione nodded. "Skeeter was in the courtroom, and there's no telling how she'll spin the story."
"It's all been taken care of, Granger," Malfoy smiled, tossing his head proudly. "She'll spin it in a favorable light."
"Favorable to whom?"
"Tell , who benefited from Fudge being the Minister in the first place?"
The question made Hermione pause and think, and even I couldn't co up with a definitive answer on the spot.
"It's obvious, gentlen," Goldstein said, leaning forward slightly.
Padma jabbed her tousle-haired, blond colleague with her elbow, prompting him to quickly correct himself.
"...And ladies, yes. It benefited anyone who had the money to pay him. And Fudge himself, of course. It's a well-known fact that Fudge takes bribes. According to certain sources, he would happily brush aside his own interests, and the country's, if the price was right."
"Exactly," Malfoy nodded. "My father has made use of Fudge's services on nurous occasions, even if it was just for minor rulings to clear away annoyances rather than actual problems."
"I never doubted," Hermione said, her face taking on that familiar, accusing expression, "that your father is quite fond of bribery and corruption."
"Money is a tool," I interjected, drawing their attention. "And tools are ant to be used... I need to think about that, actually. But that's beside the point. What are the plans? What's happening with our Defense Club?"
"Let's keep it going," several prefects answered at once, though Padma was the one to elaborate. "We don't know what the new professor will be like, or if we'll even get one. Why disband the club just to reform it later? Besides, we didn't gather there solely for the sake of Defense as a subject."
"Then it's settled," Malfoy gave a self-important nod and made to leave... heading wherever. "Everything is fine, we go back to normal. By the way..."
Draco turned to .
"It's surprising, really. My father, myself, and many of the people we know absolutely can't stand Dumbledore and are instantly hostile to anything he says. The funny thing is, the Headmaster is always preaching about friendship, mutual support, and how we all need to stick together to make things right. It's a very strange feeling to realize that his approach actually worked."
On that wonderful note, we made our way to the Great Hall. Practically the entire student body had gathered there in anticipation of lunch. For the most part, they were behaving normally, except that the main topic of the countless conversations buzzing around the tables was highly unusual. For now, all they could do was guess how the trial had gone, which they were doing with great enthusiasm. Even the Ravenclaws had set aside the various magazines, books, and notes they usually preferred to focus on before a al.
Our arrival drew attention, albeit not imdiately—which was fair, considering students sitting in the Great Hall didn't keep their eyes glued to the doors. But the mont we took our seats at the tables, the interrogation began.
"Well?" Justin imdiately asked Hannah and , while the others tried to huddle around us as tightly as possible. "How did it go? We've been sitting here with no idea what to think. And the ones they took as witnesses haven't co back yet."
"They'll be here soon," Hannah assured them, imdiately turning to , thereby yielding the floor.
"Well..." I dragged out a short, dramatic pause. It felt like the kids around us were holding their breath.
"Don't keep us in suspense!" a curly-haired second-year girl practically bent her spoon out of impatience.
"...We won the case." I smiled, looking around at the gathered crowd.
There were no jubilant screams or anything of the sort. Just restrained smiles, sighs of relief, supportive pats on the back, and quiet, triumphant hisses of "Yesss," along with similar expressions of joy.
"What about Umbridge?" Justin pressed on.
"She's off to Azkaban for a year."
Connecting my mind to the little chanical spider hidden in the pink toad's hair, I tried to get a sense of her surroundings... She had been thoroughly stripped of her pink suit and stuffed into a black-and-white striped prison robe. They had taken a wizarding photograph of her holding a placard in front of a height chart, and at this exact mont, she was being escorted to the pier and seated in an enchanted boat. Naturally, her transport was heavily guarded. Umbridge herself was clearly under a Silencio charm. Her wrists and ankles were bound in shackles, leaving her just enough freedom of movent to walk on her own.
"Why don't you tell us," Zacharias's voice pulled from my thoughts, "how the actual hearing went?"
"Well, it went like this," I said, leaning forward across the table. "Madam Sprout, Hannah, and I stepped out of the Floo into the Ministry Atrium..."
And I proceeded to tell them everything from beginning to end, neither embellishing the details nor leaving anything out. anwhile, a thought kept spinning in my head: how quickly would the students realize that, aside from gaining their freedom from Umbridge's oppressive directives, we were now completely without a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? They were definitely going to throw a massive party tonight... and yet, there was a Quidditch match tomorrow...
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