* * * Ministerial Reformation * * *

Clearly reminded of the fact that the severely drained – and surprisingly wan, though still uncannily handsome – undead vampire has a live human willingly in tow, and that he has made no aggressive response toward them, no more attacks are forthcoming. However, the new ministry arrivals continue to remain very tensely on their guard.

Meanwhile, everyone in the room is wondering about the meaning of Bella's subconscious declaration. Jane? The only Jane everyone here seems to know in common is in the person of Delores Jane Umbridge… and only then because they've each seen her name inscribed so many times upon the infamous Educational Decrees, that her full identity has become unhappily imprinted upon their brains. But – how could she have hurt him? He didn't seem to be affected at all by the single spell Delores fired that connected with his skin… unless it was through contact with it that he could tell what it was meant to do. Is he whom Bella meant?

"Does she mean the High Inquisitor?" one of the Ministry officials almost silently asks of his nearby Hogwarts' colleague.

"Ask him," the astute professor whispers back. "He can hear you anyway."

"What?!" the wizard mouths soundlessly, as his eyes go big, and he lapses into uncomfortable silence.

Meanwhile, the Hogwarts' humans who have gotten comfortable enough about asking Edward direct questions – resume doing so. As a nearly identical question is voiced from across the crowd, the queried professor turns to look curiously back towards the unprecedented couple.

"Not at all," Edward answers with a gentle scoff. "Torture may be her middle name, but she doesn't have a monopoly on the institution." His tone is grim with knowledge.

No; that would be Bellatrix Lestrange. Edward is surprised and concerned to hear this angry thought coming from a human student in the audience, about a name that starts the same as his beloved's, and his gaze abruptly touches upon Neville Longbottom, before casually redirecting away again. It seems the boy's parents were once tortured at this woman's hand, in a manner very similar to the one he experienced of Jane… and have become permanent near-vegetative residents of the hospital because of it. In pained light of this, he can't but feel all the more intensely glad of Bella's inexplicable immunity – and gently hugs her just a little bit tighter, reveling in the featherweight warmth of her form in his arms.

"What makes you think she has anything to do with torture?" Innocently, a concerned member of the Hogwarts' staff voices what some of the Ministry newcomers are indignantly thinking.

"Well, we could start with the fact of her unprovoked attack on Bella…" Edward informs in a hard voice, which alone should be more than enough evidence against her, "or the fact that she called in a sacrificial shield of house-elves in an effort to save herself…" no matter that she apparently considers them subhuman, "or perhaps that she evidently maintains a stock of human blood that isn't hers, close enough to readily call upon in her panic… or that she keeps a blood quill in her possession, which instrument has clearly been used… or that she brought all of you here to fight me under less-than-accurate pretenses…"

Wait; Edward allows a contrary thought to interrupt him, and he faces the ministry law enforcement official that obviously has something to say, but (given present company) is unwilling to say it. His mouth is still open wide from the unsuccessful attempt. "Yes?"

Uncomfortably forced into the spotlight, at last the dark-haired man pushes a few words out. "Uh… how would you know…" if she has a blood quill in her possession? Under the immortal trespasser's attentive black gaze, the suddenly not-so-bold investigator thinks twice about finishing his question, and Edward raises his eyebrow in expectant response. Of course, he's a vampire! Better let that one lie, he concludes nervously, retreating from the thought. "Uh, n-nevermind."

"Those are some pretty serious accusations to make," Severus challenges with careful confidence, both secretly pleased and concerned, as well as hoping the ministry will take this vampire seriously enough – to get her out of their hair. Nothing anyone from Hogwarts has been able to do, has made the difference.

Edward shrugs unconcernedly, playing along. "If the shoe fits…"

"Rrruuby slippers," Bella mumbles in her sleep.

Instantly intrigued as he looks at her, lip twitching with amusement, Edward had never imagined she would be so subconsciously responsive to the conversation, sleeping in a crowd like this. It's fascinating. Turning right back to his audience, he continues: "…I'm sure there are plenty of students carrying around evidence, if you care to investigate." Numerous afflicted hands suddenly twitch with the desire to make themselves known, then abruptly hide themselves from view.

"She said he threatened her life…?" from the sidelines, quietly another someone from the ministry addresses Dumbledore, citing a justifiable reason for them to have been called in. And is any of that really true?

Visibly disturbed by the vampire's far-too-believable assertion, nevertheless the headmaster calmly retells Edward's earlier answer, adding keen insight of his own along the way. "Intentionally or not," Albus observes, as if it would have made any difference, surely, "everything she did had the potential or real effect of making him more dangerous than he already is. He had to get her out of here before she came up with something else."

What happened? Such is the wary – and sometimes skeptical – consensus of every thought that wasn't here to see it.

"Indeed," appreciating the headmaster's helpful introduction, Edward figuratively steps forward to explain how each of the things Delores tried have the natural effect of making a vampire more dangerous. "The presence of exposed human blood alone, can and does often trigger the feeding frenzy – even among those of us who resist. Whether or not she actually intended it as an alternative to the real thing is unimportant… because had I been inclined to give in: I'd have been drawn to a much fresher source."

Many faces around the room look suddenly sick… struggling to digest what Edward knows is merely the unvarnished truth. I'll admit, my comment was rather harshly straightforward. But if it helps to prosecute her…

"But – no," her sleepy voice pierces the silence, "the tornado saved the Munchkins."

The small smile momentarily elicited by her mumble, and softening his face, turns hard again as Edward focuses himself to continue his expose. "Barring that," he informs them, "there is nothing more sure to get you on a vampire's bad side, than to attack his or her mate – with capable intention to harm. Such persons are eternally irreplaceable, and therefore: the offense is unforgivable. Whether or not you know that's who any given person is to one of us, is irrelevant. The consequences of losing such a gamble are deadly… and also: extremely likely to rebound upon the rest of your companions."

"Lucky Dorothy…" groggily Bella tosses her head back and forth, clearly in distress, causing her unconscious mumble to strike Edward with concern. Wasn't she earlier describing herself as Dorothy? Then why the desolation? Suddenly, figuring out the meaning of this grief is more important than soothing the nauseated faces in front of him. If only he could understand.

"Finally," he continues reluctantly, "the only thing her summoning of the dementor ultimately accomplished – was to make me more thirsty." And communicate her tragic story in the process… but that's beside the point. "As you might have anticipated, their presence feels as draining to me as it does to you… only chocolate won't work for me. "

Silently, as if in unison, the whole room takes a nervous gulp.

"As it happens, it's quite fortunate that I met her before coming upon all of these temptations together. Bella happens to be my singer – or in other words: the single most alluring scent in the world, for me personally. If it hadn't been for her unprecedented appeal, and the control I've had to significantly increase in order to be safe for her… as thirsty as I am – I might have had a hard time resisting the urge to indulge." …especially in the case of your not-so-respected professor. "Perhaps you can see why I'm rather sensitive about being made more dangerous than I already am?"

"Crabby tornado…" Undoubtedly triggered by his tone of honest annoyance, in the face of a crowd full of humans thoroughly terrified by his words, Bella's slumberous accusation couldn't have provided a better ice breaker. If they weren't all so nervous about the current topic of conversation, he's sure some of them would have laughed.

Gently amused by her unconscious reminders of their previous conversation – Munchkins, indeed… I couldn't have done it without my Dorothy… even if I am crabby when I'm hungry –Edward prompts her in an effort to refocus everyone's attention upon his purpose of simply exposing the wicked witch for who she is. That's the whole reason I didn't pull any verbal punches, after all; not that I won't also very much enjoy hearing whatever Bella will respond with to say. "It certainly didn't do the wicked witch much good," I'm very pleased to report. If every ministry official's horrified and censorious thoughts at his revelation are any indication, they won't be putting up with her for much longer.

"So much for the dollhouse…" Bella's resigned, sleepy voice trails off as Edward's lip finally twitches into a small but satisfied grin.

At last, having given the ministry enough motivating evidence with which to get Umbridge sacked, Edward decides to leave them all with one final, sizzling morsel to figuratively chew on. Those that were present may recall that this is not something she directly alluded to while in his presence, but this has been a thorn in their sides all the same. "By the way," he offers nonchalantly, commanding their attention with no effort at all, "her stubborn assertion that Voldemort is not alive," shocked gasps from all over at the taboo mention of his name, let alone by one whose nature is easily as frightening, "is about as intelligent as bringing a dementor to fight a vampire in a crowd full of humans." Thankfully, one fringe benefit of mentioning the wizard tyrant by name – is that those who had assumptively classified him to be of similar ilk, are now rather effectively confused. "He could very well be taking over your government as we speak."

Enough people in the room don't want to believe this, that involuntarily from more than one of them a disbelieving noise is heard.

And Bella, eyes still firmly shut in slumber, once again mumbles in her sleep. "I saw you roll your eyes," she quietly asserts, unknowingly stimulating Edward's amusement over the fact that he'd silently just done exactly that. Clearly, as their audience has occasion to observe: she knows him better than they would have thought.

Finally, as yet another brave soul gathers enough courage to ask how he knows this tidbit about Voldemort: Edward realizes that alluding to the fact that either Harry, Albus, or Severus were aware of this (not to mention every other member of the Order of the Phoenix, and to varying degrees any member of the D.A. underground student club), would not be helpful to them. Consequently, in a soft voice he simply states: "The dementors know it."

As if you could tell. Nobody knows! A number of the rooms occupants are reactively objecting in silent disagreement, not wanting to believe. Though, come to think of it… one brave voice ventures, "W-why did the dementor listen to you?" They're supposed to be working for us!

"I merely spoke the truth," Edward answers with a shrug, before continuing his explanation. "She was sent here to protect you from me, one undead being against another, in whatever capacity she could. Upon arrival, however, she realized that the way her presence affected me was in direct contradiction to the ministry directive that sent her here. And so, she had to leave. She didn't want to cause damage to anyone; she never has."

"She…," mouthing silently to himself, Albus picks up on this sign of his advanced awareness.

"She's got a strange way of showing it," a stricken Harry mumbles under his breath.

"So it would seem," Edward acknowledges understandingly, particularly in light of the personal attacks this boy has seen, "although…" his voice now imbued with an undercurrent of sympathy, "I've never met a more tortured creature."

"Edward…," Bella's softly unconscious voice breathes out, almost pleading, worriedly drawing his gaze.

Simultaneously following a gasp of realization, professor McGonagall asks: "Do you… know her story, then?!"

Concernedly distracted by the tone of his beloved, Edward hesitates slightly before answering. "Yes."

Another earnest voice from the crowd calls out. "Would you tell us?!"

But already, Edward is slowly shaking his head. "I'm afraid it is not a story for public consumption," he informs them. "However..." he considers, as some of them clearly voice their disappointment, "I would tell Albus." As well as Harry, since it directly affects him… though this is better not to reveal publicly.

Albus feels honored, and thankful.

At last, punctuated by an exhaled sigh as her fingers needfully clutch against his shirt, a final mumbled phrase escapes Bella's lips before her breathing changes into a pattern of deeper sleep. "There's no place like home."

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Hope you enjoyed! Only two more chapters to go.