THE DUMBLEDORE CASE
Greetings, students of Hogwarts:
As we all know, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was removed from his position by Ministry officials this past Saturday night, in the midst of the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match. The events surrounding this removal are loosely known to most, if not all, of us: representatives from the Ministry of Magic entered Hogwarts castle and demanded Albus Dumbledore's immediate resignation on account of mismanagement, bringing with them a document signed by the Hogwarts board of governors. They then attempted to bring the Headmaster in for questioning, the reasoning for which was not clarified. Not complying with their request, Headmaster Dumbledore left Hogwarts, an action that is being labelled by the Ministry as "resisting arrest," though they have yet to state any justification for an arrest. With the Daily Prophet reporting fewer & less accurate details than the Hogwarts rumor mill, we have taken it upon ourselves to investigate the evening's events and questionable installment of Dolores Umbridge as Hogwarts Headmistress. Our sources, members of the Ministry of Magic and associates of the Minister, with to remain anonymous for their own security.
According to the official statement released by the Minister's office, investigation into Headmaster Dumbledore began at the start of the school year, a fact proven, as we all know, by the presence and actions of Dolores Umbridge at Hogwarts. Minister Fudge went on to state that they took action as soon as sufficient evidence of mismanagement presented itself; this is where information from our sources diverges from the Minister's narrative. Reports from both the department of Magical Transportation and the Auror Office report that plans for moving in on the Headmaster began in early December, two Aurors at a time placed on-call to leave when the Minister contacted them, and a special connection made between the Minister's office fireplace and that of Dolores Umbridge, allowing the Minister private, unregistered access to Hogwarts Castle—a practice forbidden under clause A-98 of the 1786 Wizengamot case Osbert v. Everard. During this time, Dolores Umbridge was reportedly digging for any information which could be used to remove Headmaster Dumbledore from his position.
Just before the Christmas holidays, Dolores Umbridge reportedly spoke to the Inquisitorial Squad, telling them to "make trouble" when returning to school, directly promoting "quibbling in the halls, encouraging others toward aggression, and inciting conflict where none presents itself," according to one member of the Inquisitorial Squad. These fights would become the basis of the Ministry's complaint against Albus Dumbledore & his eventual successful removal.
The night of the Ministry's visit to the Headmaster was specifically chosen to ensure low numbers of students were in the castle, according to our source in the Auror Department. Two Aurors, hand-selected by the minister, arrived through the floo at 7:20 pm, along with Minister Fudge and his assistant. These four, joined by Professor Dolores Umbridge, were the party who confronted the Headmaster in his office, bringing us to the aforementioned events which Hogwarts students were quickly made aware of—not by the Ministry, but by other students.
Dolores Umbridge is, as of now, the legal Headmistress of Hogwarts; however, it is worth noting that she has been denied entrance to the Headmaster's office and quarters, and may therefore be found in the DADA rooms.
/
"This is great, everyone—your form is looking better. Remember, dueling is a combination of speed and power. Getting a spell off quickly won't help you if it's got nothing behind it. Even a spell that seems silly, like the Jelly Legs Jinx, can throw your opponent off enough for you to get another hit in—or get away. If you have two or three spells you're an expert at—I mean nonverbal casting, natural wand motion—"
"Like Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex!" Someone called out, to general laughter and agreement.
"Yeah," Harry said, grinning, "exactly like that. Most of us wouldn't be able to hit someone with that before they got us, but Ginny could—and that would give her time to cast a powerful stunner. Now—get a new partner, someone you think is on the same level you are, and start again. Remember your duelling stance—it's not just for show, it'll give you a proper base, make it harder for your opponent to knock you off your feet."
Marietta found herself facing Jake Urquhart, who, though relatively new to the DA, had clearly been doing some of his own defense practice on the side this year. His spells, though slower, were powerful, and after a few wins for her, she found herself on the ground and out of breath, having grown over-confident in the wake of her success.
"Nice one," she told him, reaching for his offered arm.
"Thanks—would've been down if yours had worked, though." Marietta made a face.
"Not so helpful if I'm hit first. Anyway, it didn't do anything. It's meant to be a modified Jelly-Legs, aimed for the hand."
"Hard to cast if you can't hold a wand," Jake said thoughtfully, looking impressed. "Smart."
"Applaud me when it works," Marietta responded, unable to stop a grin from slipping onto her face. "I haven't been—" a bird swooped past her face, cutting her sentence short as she ducked.
"Oi! Control your birds, Fawley!" George Weasley shouted from Marietta's left, dodging as the bird was joined in its attack by several of its compatriots.
"Is that enough control for you?" Andrew asked from the ground to her right, where Jack's knockback jinx had thrown him.
"Avis is a dirty move," Marietta told him, but he only shrugged.
"It's an effective move. You ever seen someone not try to get out of the way when birds go for their eyes?"
"And yet here you are, on the ground."
"I'm faster than him—the birds, Andrew." Andrew sighed and released his spell, freeing George from his torment.
"You're no fun. Be more like Marietta—now she's fun. Breaking into the into investigative journalism field and taking a dig at Umbridge in one go—nice work, by the way."
"It was a collaboration," Marietta told him. It had been quite a feat. Most of the information had come from Blaise Zabini, by way of his mother—the Zabinis dealt in blackmail, and she saw no reason to suddenly not tell her son the details of the Minister of Magic's dealings. What she'd said had been corroborated by Fred and George Weasley, who'd somehow contacted an auror and one of their father's friends in the Department of Magical Transportation. Jake Urquhart had provided the final piece of information—of Umbridge's conversation with the Inquisitorial Squad—which he'd overheard his brother talking about over the holidays. As far as she was concerned, Marietta had done very little. The pieces had been handed to her; all that had been left for her was putting them together.
"It was better reporting than the Prophet," Jack said.
"High praise, that—maybe next time I'll topple Witch Weekly."
Jack cracked a smile.
"Hey, they say to shoot for the stars, right?"
/
Adrian waited until he was sure the others were asleep, Jack's snores filling the room and the rise and fall of Andrew's chest slow and even. Casting a spell to silence his footsteps, he disillusioned himself, opening the door as quietly as possible and closing it gently, making his way through the Slytherin Common Room with ease—only one person was still there, some third or fourth year who'd fallen asleep in a chair by the fire. He was aware of every step of the trip up from the dungeons to the second floor, and of the significance of the door looming in front of him.
"Silencio objectum," he murmured, pointing his wand at the door's lock. The spell was commonly used to fix squeaky hinges, but it would serve his purposes just as well.
"Reducto Minima." A mini explosion surrounded the lock, making no noise. The door, sealed against Alohomora, was not made to resist so physical an attack. Reaching a hand out, Adrian pushed the door, and it swung open easily. Knowing he likely had little time, Adrian rushed into the room, set for the drawer he knew Umbridge kept her detention quills in—her contract quills, to give them their proper name, meant for documents signed in blood. They were rare now, as was the practice itself, but Umbridge seemed to be a collector.
Drawing the quills out in disgust, Adrian sat them on Umbridge's desk.
"Incendio," he muttered, careful to direct the spell only at the quills. They burned quickly, and he cut his spell off before it reached her desk, leaving only a pile of ash where the quills had been
His work done, Adrian left the office, closing the door behind him.
"Reparo," he said, aiming for the door's lock—better to leave Umbridge thinking he'd somehow torn her spells down than lose a tactic that could possibly be used in the future.
Retracing his steps as quickly as possible, Adrian cast charms aimed at nothing: they wouldn't be able to cast the Incendio back to him with Priori Incantato, at least.
Back through the common room—the third year was gone—back through his door—in his bed, visible again, heart pounding.
At four in the morning, Adrian finally drifted off to the sounds of Jack's snores and Andrew's heavy, steady breaths.
/
"Mr. Creevey—that is quite enough!" Dennis Creevey turned white beneath Dolores Umbridge's furious glare. Scrambling to pick up the book he'd dropped, he opened his mouth to apologize, but she continued on, her voice turning sickeningly sweet. "Now, I know it's amusing to you students to try to scare one another with loud noises, and to block the hallways of my school by standing around when you should be in class, but I—will—not—stand—for—it." The last words were sharper than her voice usually got, the girlish tone replaced entirely by a cold fury. Dennis, pressed against the wall as if trying to sink into it, seemed frozen, the other students hurriedly leaving the hallway to avoid the scene. Umbridge had been on a reign of terror all week, and no one knew why. Dennis was her victim of the day—no one wanted to join him.
"Now, Mr. Creevey—"
"Headmistress," a smooth voice cut in, and she turned furiously toward its owner. Dennis' eyes also found him, widening in surprise. "Apologies for the interruption, but Dennis here has a tutoring session with me just now—Potions, you know." He indicated the book as he said this.
"Mr. Zabini, it is not your—"
"Job to help him? I know, but the younger students are all so intimidated by Professor Snape, so I like to step in where I can." Leaning toward Umbridge, he added, in a tone so low only she could hear: "Showings like this are dangerous—we wouldn't want the Ministry to see you as unbalanced, like they did Professor Dumbledore, would we? They'd have to look into everything you've done here, and even before—how many laws would that call into question?"
Umbridge seemed to be at a loss for words, gaping at Blaise as if trying to figure out if he'd been threatening her or genuinely trying to help. He smiled in response.
"Very understanding of you. Dennis?" Reaching out, he practically dragged the other boy away from the wall, leading him down the nearest side hallway and into the first hidden corridor he knew of.
"You okay?" he asked, concerned by the lack of speech from the young boy who usually wouldn't stop talking.
"I'm—that was—what did you say?"
"Oh, nothing, really. Come on, let's get you back to your Common Room—best both of us lie low for a bit, I'd say."
"Nothing? But her face, it was like…all shocked—come on, Blaise, what was it? Did you know something about her? Does she have a secret? Oh! Or does she owe you a favor?"
It was good to know, Blaise thought, that the encounter had at least not had any lasting effects.
/
Hogwarts was in arms. The DA, always bonded by their secret, were more unified than ever in the face of a common enemy. Everywhere she turned, Dolores Umbridge faced someone who wanted her out of her job—out of the castle she was trying to claim as her own. Even the castle itself was rejecting her: it was true. The Gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's office refused to budge for her, no matter what she said to it.
The first two weeks of Dolores Umbridge's reign, it could be safely said, were not exactly what she'd dreamed of.