Sumner took a seat in the familiar meeting chamber. He'd been here once before, only it had then been presided by Minister Fudge. He was present today as well, sitting at a seat of honor to the left of Dumbledore, who was acting Minister for Magic while Death Eater influence was purged from the Ministry.
There were many others present, most of them leaders from within the Ministry of Magic. Foreigners too. Susan West, MACUSA's ambassador to Britain was here, along with several other members of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Dumbledore, immediately after the building had been secured by TFA operators, had called for this meeting, giving the officials enough time to receive the invite and arrive, and not much more. He understood how this might look and wanted to get ahead of it, but not at the cost of the work that needed doing.
"Thank you all for joining me here," Dumbledore announced. The quiet conversations between diplomats and dignitaries ceased, everyone earnestly curious why the peaceable Headmaster, who had previously turned down the role as Minister, would have suddenly overthrown the elected government.
"Many of you know me, some of you do not. For those who do not know me personally, know that the rumors you've heard are likely true." He smiled at his own little joke, and continued. "I did in fact choose not to run for Minister of Magic...several times. It is not a job I am interested in. I have my school. One does not always get to do what they wish, however."
"My position on this has been clear since the end of last year. Voldemort has returned, and since then his dark forces have only risen in power." Sumner watched several of the wizards present, including Fudge, wince at the name. "Voldemort is excellent at hiding facts and playing friends against one another. While I do not fault former-Minister Fudge for not wanting to believe that Voldemort had returned, I could no longer allow these enemies to grow around us unchecked."
"Since his return, Voldemort has rapidly been able to infiltrate the Ministry, to the point that no preparation whatsoever was being made for the fight that surely lay ahead."
Minister Koch of Germany stood up, waving a hand. Dumbledore, who had reached a lull in his speech, nodded for the Minister to ask his question.
"I think I am not alone in wanting to get to the crux of why we are here. It is unprecedented, a blatant takeover of the government like this. Do you expect us to believe that you do this altruistically?" Not for the first time, Sumner was surprised by his utterly unaccented English.
"You may believe as you wish," Dumbledore replied warmly, as though they were talking about a sports game over dinner instead of what amounts to a coup. "It is my intent, however, to root out the leaks within the Ministry and ensure that it is as prepared for the fight ahead as it can be, at which point I will turn over the position to Rufus Scrimgeour, who is the next in the line of succession."
"Just like that?" Minister Dufoix, the French Minister and the current head of the ICW asked.
"Indeed," Dumbledore affirmed, "I have no desire to enter the realm of politics. At the risk of offending present company, I much prefer the presence of professors and pupils to politicians."
The French Minister smiled at his comment and sat. Sumner couldn't tell what she was thinking.
From there, the meeting went on for another hour and a half. Dumbledore was asked a number of important sounding questions about policies, guidelines, and other things he was implementing. He remained completely open about what he was doing and why, which helped ease the concerns of a very worried international community.
Still, Sumner didn't think anyone was going to rest easy until Dumbledore had stepped down and Rufus Scrimgeour was running the Ministry. He was currently the head of magical law enforcement and had been running an active investigation into the possible return of Voldemort, much to the consternation of Fudge. It was a safe bet that he would not be easy on Voldemort or his followers.
When the meeting finally ended, he waited with the rest of the Ministry officials for the dignitaries and foreign diplomats to leave. The internal situation report had been scheduled for after the international one, and was the real reason Sumner was present.
They followed Dumbledore to an adjacent meeting area, more akin to a conference room. People were quick to take their seats, as there was much to do.
"Very well," Dumbledore said. The warmth with which he had handled the diplomats having faded. Dumbledore looked tired...not unfriendly, just tired. "Let's begin. I would like a final report from you, Colonel."
They'd talked a couple of times since the TFA had secured the Ministry building, but reports hadn't finished coming in at that point.
"Sir," Sumner said, clearing his throat. All eyes turned to him. Some looked at him with earnest curiosity. Others with hardly concealed contempt. "Apart from the casualties in the initial raid, no further lives were lost. Several operators were injured in firefights with security forces, along with a group of Death Eaters that had been trapped in the Department of Mysteries."
"Total casualty count is seven friendlies dead, twelve wounded. The wounded are all expected to make full recoveries. Thirteen individuals have been detained, all suspected Death Eaters. Three were also found dead, making sixteen total Death Eater losses."
"I want to know how Hogwarts students were involved in this raid to begin with!" one of the Ministry officials blurted out.
"Ma'am," Sumner replied before Dumbledore could intervene, "we didn't have control of the school when the students left." He didn't add that the Ministry was responsible for the students at that point...nor that one of them, Mr. Longbottom, had left once TFA more-or-less controlled the school.
"I am as appalled as you, Secretary Munson," Dumbledore said placatingly, "that we have dead students. Their loss is nothing short of tragic. Let me remind everyone that the Death Eaters are the ones responsible for killing our loved ones. Those brave children should never have been in a position where they had to defend our society from evil. We are here now to prevent this from ever happening again."
Just after calling for the international meeting, Dumbledore had a closed-door meeting with Sumner. He had been surprised that Dumbledore placed the responsibility of deaths squarely on Voldemort and his followers. He still felt responsible, especially for Neville and his boys, being that he'd authorized the mission.
"To that end," a lanky man with a pointed nose and a nasally voice started, "what are we doing with the Death Eaters? How are we preparing for attacks, which will surely come?"
Dumbledore looked to Sumner for the reply. Even with the help of trusted members from the Order of the Phoenix, vetting everyone at the Ministry was going to take time. TFA was going to be taking on the brunt of operations, at least for a while.
"As we speak, the Death Eaters are being interrogated for any information they have. We have trained interrogators on site and the Aurors office has provided us with veritaserum. Between what we learn from these Death Eaters and what we currently know and suspect, my intelligence team is putting together a strike package, targeting Death Eater operations from the top down."
"My command staff has many years of experience in dismantling terrorist organizations and we are putting that experience to good use. By the end of the week, raiding operations are expected to begin, and will continue at a high pace. We expect this will throw the Death Eaters off balance, giving the Ministry time to prepare and simultaneously diminishing their ability to strike back in any meaningful way."
The meeting shifted from there to the various ways the Ministry was working to improve itself. Many changes to policy, especially to internal security, were being made. Sumner didn't follow much of it. He didn't have a dog in that particular fight.
"-and what of Umbridge, actually?" someone asked. Sumner caught that last portion and looked up to see the others looking at him. Years of training and situations where his life depended on his poker face paid off.
"Unfortunately, Miss Umbridge was not present at the school when we secured it. We have people investigating leads currently, but nothing looks promising." To Dumbledore, he added, "again, I extend my sincerest apologies to Professor Sprout for the miscommunication. My team mistook her for Umbridge," he explained at the questioning looks from the others.
Dumbledore gave him a tight nod. It didn't look like he fully bought the story, but he wasn't questioning it either. That'd have to do.
After the meeting, he got onto an elevator bound for the main lobby. He needed to get back to the school; there was a lot of work to be done. The doors were almost closed when a hand stopped them and Minister Dufoix stepped in.
She smiled at him politely and, as the doors closed with just the two of them onboard, he couldn't help feeling that this was no coincidence.
"I understand you weren't able to locate Umbridge," the French Minister said conversationally, examining the paneling of the elevator before turning her attention to Sumner.
"Ma'am," Sumner said curtly. That particular story wasn't a secret, but he also didn't like to talk operational details with a politician, especially not a foreign one.
"It is a shame," she told him. "That woman 'armed one of my citizens, and I would very much like 'old her accountable."
"A feeling I can strongly empathize with," Sumner replied, pulling from his limited diplomatic dictionary. He didn't see any harm in admitting to similar feelings.
"Colonel, should you ever find 'er, I'm sure my Ministry could find some means of repaying you for 'er extradition."
Ding. She stepped off the elevator before he could reply and disappeared into the crowd of busy witches and wizards, leaving him to wonder how much she knew.
Dolores Umbridge jolted awake at the sound of a stack of paper slapping the table next to her head. She sat upright, confused, seeing a spot of drool on the table before her. Her chin felt wet too. Absolutely undignified.
She tried to wipe her chin but was stopped short by the wrists. They were...chained to the table.
Looking around the bright room, she saw a pair of muscular, uniformed men standing beside a metal door. Across the table from her was a tall man. He was balding, probably in his mid-forties, dressed in slacks and a nice, button up shirt.
The air passing from a vent above her was chilly. She again tried to wipe her chin, embarrassed by the drool that she could feel there. She was again foiled by the cuffs, which she was just starting to piece together as something odd.
The man across from her glanced up, as though noticing she was awake for the first time. He sighed.
"You're confused, it's the sedative," he said, shutting the folder. She saw a number printed across the front, the only marking on it whatsoever. "It'll wear off."
"Where am I?" Umbridge asked after a moment, a rising anger welling in her chest. She had been shackled like some common street thug, drugged, placed in this awful confinement. It was unconscionable. "What is the meaning of this?"
She sat upright, her posture as perfect as it could be under the circumstances. She would not stoop to this brutes level.
"I am Mr. Burke," he said patiently, as though answering questions to a small child.
"I demand-"
Her words stopped short as one of the two muscled men pulled a metal baton from seemingly nowhere and struck her in the ribs. She coughed, tried to grab the wounded area, but the shackles prevented it. Mr. Burke didn't even flinch.
"Prisoner Zero-Four-Five, you do not make demands, is that clear?" He eyed her with a strange mix of apathy and disgust.
"I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Mini-"
This time, knowing the warning signs, she had enough time to brace herself for the next blow...for all the good it did her. She vomited. When she looked up, the balding man, Mr. Burke, was standing over her.
"You are Prisoner Zero-Four-Five. You have no other name than that. You have no titles, you do not fucking exist outside of this room." He straightened up, unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt and pulling them up his arm.
"You pissed off the wrong people, Zero-Four-Five. That girl, whatever her name was...turns out one of the special operators is sweet on her...kids these days. Thing is, the Colonel...and I normally hate dealing with military folk, mind you...the Colonel loves his boys. They're like his kids or something, I don't really know the dynamic."
"What I do know, is the Colonel took it personal, what you did to that girl. And the Colonel isn't like normal military. He knows sometimes you've gotta bend the rules to get shit done. Shit like taking some self-important dirtbag that likes torturing kids and getting some use out of her."
Umbridge looked around as he talked. They were in a small, rusting, metal room. Aside from the table she had been shackled to, there was a chair covered in straps, a large industrial sink, a stack of buckets and towels, and a table of medieval-looking medical instruments. Her teeth began to chatter.
"Yeah, you're getting it now," Burke muttered, looking at her. "See, we usually look for hardcore terrorists to train our interrogaters with...don't really need you for the program. But the Colonel needed a favor and I like favors. They give me something to call in later, and you never know when you'll need that."
He turned on a faucet and began filling a bucket with water.
"What are you talking about?" Umbridge asked, unease growing in the pit of her stomach. "Why are you doing this?"
"I'm talking about your new life. When I've pulled every useful nugget of information out of that brain of yours," he rapped on the side of her head for emphasis before returning to the faucet to fill another bucket, "you'll have a pretty decent idea of what life is going to be like until you finally stop wasting oxygen."
He stepped behind her and pulled a lever. She yelped as the chair tilted back at an angle that left her almost upside down. The shackles were holding her up, digging into her wrists.
"For the record, I have a kid about her age...that girl. I don't get to see her much, but...you asked why I'm doing this," he said, a look of menace on his face as he grabbed the first bucket. "Hope you're fuckin' thirsty."