Under Adrian's guidance, knowing these paths as well as he knew Hogwarts' corridors, the Ministry group quickly arrived at the very heart of the Treant settlent.
This was a remarkably beautiful forest area that thrived luxuriantly along a crystal-clear river. The trees here were clearly taller, older, and considerably denser than those in the surrounding forest regions.
The river babbled and burbled pleasantly along its course, flowing over smooth stones and creating gentle torrents. Afternoon sunlight went down through the intertwined canopy of branches and leaves, creating an ever-shifting pattern of golden light and deep shadow on the forest floor below.
The air itself felt different here—thick and humid, filled with the rich, moist scent of dark earth and decomposing leaves, mixed with the fresh, clean fragrance of living grass and growing trees. Occasionally, the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by crisp birdsong echoing from the canopy.
It was like stepping into a refreshing sanctuary for the soul, a place untouched by civilization's chaos.
Quite surprisingly to the visiting officials, several adult centaurs were currently moving about freely in a large natural clearing within the forest, accompanied by their young.
The mont they spotted this unexpected group of uninvited human guests erging from the forest paths, however, their deanor changed instantly. They imdiately stopped all their activities with vigilance and alarm, their bodies went tense for potential fight.
The adult centaurs quickly moved to shield the vulnerable young centaurs protectively behind them.
Among the centaur herd, Adrian imdiately spotted the familiar figure of Firenze.
Firenze imdiately approached the human group once he recognized Adrian, though his movents remained cautious.
"Adrian," His deep voice carried a clear tone of confusion and worry, "why have you brought so many people here?"
"They want to talk with Bart," Adrian's answer ca as brief and to the point.
Firenze's blue eyes swept slowly over each mber of the visiting party. His gaze lingered on Umbridge's garish pink figure, moved across the committee mbers, paused on Dumbledore, and then stopped and remained fixed for several seconds on Walden MacNair's stern face.
Finally, he nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
"May the stars guide you on this path," He said gravely.
Having delivered this cryptic blessing or perhaps warning, he turned and led the other centaurs away from the clearing. The entire herd disappeared quietly and quickly into the deeper shadows of the forest, lting into the trees like ghosts. Within monts, no trace of them remained.
The centaurs frequently visited and spent ti in the Treants' habitat for very practical reasons, Adrian knew. Under the Treants' powerful protection and territorial control, almost nothing dangerous in the Forbidden Forest dared to threaten their families and vulnerable children.
It was the safest place in the entire forest for raising young.
In fact, Adrian thought, had he not personally accompanied this Ministry delegation and vouched for their presence, absolutely none of these people—with the sole exception of Dumbledore himself would have made it anywhere near this far into Treant territory alive.
The Treants positioned along the forest paths would have intercepted them imdiately and sent them back forcibly to the Forbidden Forest entrance, probably quite roughly. Perhaps with injuries to encourage them not to return.
Quite a few curious and foolish Hogwarts students had already experienced exactly such treatnt when they'd ventured too deep.
Watching the centaurs' rapidly retreating figures vanish completely into the forest's depths, Mr. Diggory from the largely useless Centaur Liaison Office let out a soft, defeated sigh. His shoulders slumped with resignation.
"Well, it seems I'm not actually needed here after all," he muttered softly, "They won't even speak to , perhaps don't even know . Story of my career."
His tone carried bitter humor and long-accepted disappointnt.
At this mont, interrupting any sympathy for Diggory's plight, Umbridge impatiently surveyed her surroundings with irritation. The peaceful beauty seed lost on her. Her high, shrill voice called out demandingly, grating against the forest's tranquility.
"Where are these Treants we ca to see? I don't see any creatures at all! We're not here to admire the scenery or waste ti with wild animals!"
Her garish pink attire and cardigan stood out jarringly, almost offensively against the natural earth tones of the forest landscape. She looked like a tropical flower transplanted into a temperate woodland, completely out of place.
"Patience, Professor Umbridge," Adrian said with helpless resignation in his voice. Dealing with her impatience was already exhausting. "They're here."
Then he led her and the group directly toward one particular tree that was taller, more than all those around it.
Adrian stopped before this enormous tree and raised one hand to knock firmly on the rough trunk.
"Bart?" He called out.
A hint of absurdity and incredulity appeared on Umbridge's toad-like face at this bizarre behavior. Her expression clearly showed she thought Adrian had lost his mind.
Just as she was about to speak impatiently, the giant tree before them underwent a shocking transformation that made several Ministry officials gasp aloud.
After a brief mont of distortion, the rough bark slowly revealed distinct features unmistakably resembling a face.
"Good afternoon...M…. Adrian," Bart's voice erged like rocks grinding together.
Adrian stepped smoothly aside with a slight, ironic bow, gesturing formally to Umbridge with an exaggerated "please proceed" motion, indicating she should begin her official business and speak her piece.
The ball was in her court now.
Umbridge seed startled and montarily shaken by this talking tree—her face had gone slightly pale, and she'd taken an automatic step backward. But she recovered her self-important deanor remarkably quickly.
She cleared her throat with an artificial sound, exchanged a few whispered words and uncertain glances with the Ministry committee mbers standing nervously beside her for moral support, then took a small step forward.
She forced what she probably thought was a friendly smile onto her face.
"Good afternoon, er... Mr. Bart," Her high, girlish voice sounded particularly jarring and out of place in the quiet, peaceful forest, like a discordant note in a symphony.
"I am Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself. I co on behalf of the Ministry of Magic to make necessary official contact with you and your... kind, and to gain mutual understanding."
Bart didn't respond imdiately or at all. Those deep, dark eyes simply gazed quietly at Umbridge, as if waiting patiently for her to continue explaining her actual purpose beyond bureaucratic pleasantries.
Or perhaps simply observing her like one might observe an unusual insect.
For a mont, both parties fell into heavy silence.
From Umbridge's perspective and nervous interpretation, this silence carried an oppressive weight. The Treant's complete stillness and unblinking stare felt intimidating.
This fellow nad Bart seed rather difficult to deal with and communicate, she thought uneasily, her small eyes narrowing with calculation and growing frustration.
However, the reality of the situation was quite different from her interpretation.
At this mont, Bart's actual thoughts were far simpler and more confused: What is this pink creature babbling about?
Its master Adrian had only told it earlier, to show so restraint during whatever conversation occurred and try not to kill anyone.
So... how exactly should it respond to all these strange words?
Watching this increasingly awkward scene unfold from his position slightly to the side, Adrian felt like laughing out loud at the absurd disconnect.
Bart was genuinely trying to be tactful and simply had no idea how.
Finally, after the silence had stretched uncomfortably long, Umbridge made her next move. She shifted her feet sowhat uncomfortably, her weight moving from one leg to the other, and smoothed down her pink cardigan with nervous hands.
As a seasoned Ministry worker who had successfully navigated the complex political waters and bureaucratic pyramids of magical governnt for many years, she was naturally no fool. When facing an entirely new intelligent species, one that could apparently speak and reason, appropriate caution was obviously necessary. At least initially.
Of course, she needn't actually be afraid of these creatures, she reminded herself firmly, drawing on her authority like armor. After all, the entire power and resources of the Ministry of Magic stood solidly behind her. She had legitimacy, law, and force on her side.
And at the necessary mont, if diplomacy failed, a small show of overwhelming force would be perfectly acceptable and justified.
Especially regarding that Treant nad Flick, he was soone she absolutely had to deal with.
It had been a very long ti since anyone had dared treat her like that.
Carefully concealing these dark, vindictive thoughts behind her false smile, Umbridge continued in her most official voice,
"According to Article 27, Supplentary Clause B of the comprehensive 'Non-Human Intelligent Being Registration and Managent Regulations', any newly discovered or newly confird species with a certain demonstrable level of intelligence and communication ability must formally register with the relevant departnts of the Ministry of Magic."
She spoke in a rehearsed, bureaucratic tone.
"This registration allows us to better... er... provide appropriate services and managent to your community, ensuring overall harmony and safety in the wider magical society."
She paused, then added with false brightness, "Do you understand these requirents, Mr. Bart?"
"Of course," Bart responded, opening what passed for his mouth slowly. His deep voice rumbled. "I understand...."
Well, actually he still didn't quite understand what she actually wanted or what any of this ant.
Unable to give a better response, it turned its gaze toward Adrian, clearly seeking help or guidance or at least so indication of how to proceed.
But Adrian rely maintained a polite, pleasant smile on his face, his expression giving no indication.
His internal ssage to Bart was quite different: It doesn't matter what you do here, Bart. Even if you completely lose patience and beat up this irritating pink creature standing in front of you, I won't bla you or hold you responsible. You have my permission. Do what feels right.
Bart remained silent for another mont, as if carefully chewing over and digesting the aning of Umbridge's lengthy vocabulary and complex phrasing, trying to extract actual aning from those bureaucratic jargon.
Finally, after this contemplative pause, it spoke again slowly: "So... what exactly... are you here to do this ti?"
A flash of barely perceptible smugness and satisfaction appeared on Umbridge's face. She seed to genuinely believe she had gained control of this conversation and established her authority over this creature.
She straightened her back, standing as tall as her short stature allowed, and raised her voice with confidence.
"Oh, Mr. Bart, please don't misunderstand our intentions! We're here primarily to make friendly initial contact and enhance mutual understanding between our peoples. The Ministry of Magic always cares deeply about every resident of magical Britain."
She deliberately paused t, observing Bart's expression carefully—though it was genuinely difficult to discern much of anything from that rough, bark-covered face beyond the most basic movents.
At this mont, Dumbledore, who had been standing quietly in the background observing this entire exchange, suddenly leaned slightly closer to Adrian's position. He spoke in a lowered voice that only the two of them could hear clearly.
"Is this approach acceptable, Adrian?" He asked with concern, his tone worried. "Is this going well?"
He was genuinely worried that Umbridge's attitude might seriously enrage the Treants and trigger the kind of violent incident everyone wanted to avoid.
He was certain that if Umbridge spoke to the proud, easily offended centaurs in this sa patronizing manner, with this sa tone of assud superiority, she would have been forcibly thrown out of the Forbidden Forest imdiately. Probably with several broken bones and arrows in unpleasant places.
Fortunately for all involved, the Treants weren't quite as hostile toward wizards or as quick to violent offense as the centaurs traditionally were.
Adrian also lowered his voice in response, speaking with confidence that seed almost amused. "Don't worry, Professor Dumbledore. Bart is remarkably restrained and patient. Even if Umbridge deliberately provokes it, it won't kill anyone casually …. at least their lives will be spared."
Dumbledore's forward movent clearly paused at these words. His eyes widened slightly behind his spectacles.
Now he understood the situation—Adrian's bottom line was simply "no fatalities."
"Ah, by the way," Umbridge said suddenly, as if casually rembering sothing minor, "I understand you have a kinsman called Flick?"
The instant the na "Flick" was spoken aloud. Umbridge suddenly shivered. Goosebumps rose on her arms. The temperature seed to have dropped twenty degrees in a second.
Was the wind suddenly too strong? Why did it feel like winter?
She looked around nervously, confused by the abrupt chill, seeing only the surrounding tall and dense trees. Their branches and leaves rustled ominously in wind that seed to have picked up from nowhere.
What Umbridge didn't realize:
She was in serious danger.
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