The entire Wizarding world spent the next week in tense anticipation; their arrival and return were to be secret, so of course the entire school knew and had sent excited letters to their parents. It was just regretful that some of those parents happened to work in the Ministry of Magic.
He tried not to let his annoyance show as members of the Ministry ran around the Great Hall, rearranging his school as they liked. The Minister couldn't come himself, unfortunately—though privately he thought that was a very good thing as the visitors had made their dislike of the Ministry clear enough.
He thought it was going to be hard enough with just the dozen or so members he had been…convinced…to include as part of the reception party. He only hoped that Granger and Black, and the rest of their party, most especially the other Founders, would prove to adapt easily to unexpected circumstances as their history would suggest.
Otherwise, things would get very messy, indeed.
He did everything he could to lessen the damage, both to his beloved school and to the welcoming the Remnant would receive—all to no avail. They had turned his little 'reception party' to a Ministry Ball.
Oh, of course, they didn't call it such but when they went ahead and invited more than a hundred people to attend; added decoration after ridiculous decoration to the Great Hall, until it looked like the winner of one of those 'who has the best ballroom?' contests that Witch Weekly's hosts; and the room just kept filling up with more politicians every minute—what the bloody else could it be?
It was horrible, he felt like he was at a Wizemagot meeting and a Ministry Gala at once—but worse, because this was Hogwarts, his greatest achievement and sanctuary all in one, violated by Ministry politics. He could only hope the visitors had more patience than he did at the moment, but he wasn't wishing very hard—they'd descended like locusts, now let them be taken care of like the pests they are when they finally returned.
His wand-hand twitched toward the Elder wood in his robe pockets when the Ministry appointed 'decorator' cast the walls of the Great Hall in a particularly revolting shade of puce.
The 'party' was in full-swing by the time it happened; the bright swirling of rainbow colors in the ceiling of the Great Hall. This time, it was a lot larger than before—understandable. He reasoned, considering they were bringing their entire people. He only hoped that the incoming group all fit into the room, even with all of the expansion charms that were cast to accommodate the guests.
The same crackle of lightning arced toward the ground right underneath which was cleared of all people and objects. Luckily, this was one of the few things the Ministry had listened to him about. At the moment, he was wishing they hadn't so he could be rid of a few pests.
He grimaced and smoothed his expression into the genial grandfatherly persona he had perfected long ago as his staff glanced at him, sensing his irritation—far more serious about it then he should have been. Perhaps it might be time to practice his Occlumency techniques tonight, so as to curb his darker impulses. He didn't often need to forcibly calm himself but the combination of learning how bad it could have all gone had he not made certain decisions and taken a long, hard look at himself, and the nuisance that was the Ministry trespassing on Hogwarts grounds was not doing anything for his hard-won patience. Or his sanity.
They all watched with baited breath as the light faded to reveal a dozen or so people arranged in a circle facing outward. Each and every one of them were either standing in a ready stance or crouching, ready to strike. They, like the first being the Headmaster met, wore muggle clothing; black tops and bottoms with a multitude of pockets, and steel-toed boots. They also wore a corded necklace with that familiar crest hanging from it. He observed that only a few wore the leather bands with two colors that Granger and Black wore.
He wondered if they had any special meaning, as it seemed that only a particular person wore them. 'Perhaps they signified a higher rank?', he wondered.
Before he could step forward to greet them, he was rudely pushed aside by thugs of the Minister's undersecretary, Dolorus Umbridge. He stared at her back in disbelief and the barest stirrings of anger, as she spoke in a voice so condescendingly sweet that it hurt his ears to listen to.
"Welcome, honored guests, to our world. I represent the Ministry and would like to say on behalf of the Minister that we hope to be frien—"
She was cut off by an angered voice, humming with deadly intent.
"What is the meaning of this?"
The circle parted in the middle to let two men step forward. One was tall and broad-shouldered with that particular shade of red hair which so characterized the Weasleys. In addition to the same outfit as the rest of his party, he wore a Hogwarts robe modified for battle with slits cut at the sides to allow more freedom of movement. Sticking out from his shoulder was the mouth of a rifle—another one that seemed to prefer muggle firearms to magical weaponry like Granger and most likely impervious to magic as well.
The other was shorter and slimmer with black hair that fell in wild curls down his back. To be honest, Dumbledore would have assumed he was a woman if it weren't for the lack of breasts. He was one of the few who wore the leather armbands with the same colors as Grangers'. Around his neck was a delicate gold chain with a lily pendant hanging next to the crest and from his waist hung a very familiar sword with rubies glittering from the handle in a pale sheath. Dumbledore suspected the sheath was made of some reptilian hide, noting the pebbled texture.
"Evans and Weasley, I presume gentlemen?" He said, making a reasonable guess and trying to defuse the situation but the strangers refused to be appeased so easily; sharp eyes snapped to him.
"Answer me, old man." He hissed, neither denying nor confirming the assumption that these two were the other Founders. Dumbledore chose to diplomatically ignore the insult following the command. There were worse things than the truth to be called, after all.
Dumbledore found himself looking into familiar green eyes—Lily's eyes! His own eyes widened slightly. That must be why 'Hagrid' was so interested in Petunia; this must be someone related to her then. Why, a thought popped into his head suddenly, it could even be possible that the man in front of her was her nephew which meant—looking closer at the face, he wondered how he hadn't recognized it sooner. Here was the son of James Potter and Lily Evans, quite possibly!
"Albus Dumbledore! I ask again: What is the meaning of this?"
Dumbledore cleared his throat, careful to keep his thoughts to himself. There was a reason Granger and Black hadn't mentioned a Potter, probably a very good reason; the man in front of him had also gone to a lot of trouble to keep his heritage unknown. That is assuming, of course, that he was right.
But even if he was right, it was only idle speculation for now.
He had been more right than wrong, but he didn't want to make a mistake. When men with his kind of power made a mistake, terrible things occurred and he had learned that painful lesson well. Losing a sister and almost losing a child with such potential to the darkness was enough to remind him of that moral for centuries to come.
Sending a strained smile their way, he explained thus: "Word of your group's presence was spread by the students through letters to their parents, some of whom are Ministry officials, which eventually got to the Minister, himself. At first, all believed this to be a fantastical tale but when the Ministry learned of the preparation being done by Hogwarts in anticipation of your return and after conducting an investigation into the magics which occurred here in the Great Hall…well, they had no choice but to believe it."
"And, so what? You just let them take over Hogwarts?" Dumbledore turned to Weasley who looked at him in disbelief and shrugged lightly, continuing on with his explanation. He turned back to the other man, hoping he would read between the lines and have some small mercy.
"The Ministry decided that a small 'reception party' was not enough and turned it into a Ministry Ball. I did warn them that your group didn't particularly care for the Ministry but they insisted. And this is the result." He waved his hands aside to indicate the transformed Great Hall.
"Do you mock us?" He snapped out. "Did we not say we were very recently at War, Headmaster? Did we not give you detailed information of the Aftermath which destroyed the two worlds?" A murmuring went through the assembled crowd, as the letters had never mentioned any of this. "Did we not warn you that we are still very much a war-like people?"
"Yes, you did. And I understand the situation very well; however, I am subject to forces beyond my control and sometimes must bow down to them in order to maintain the stability of my world. I'm sure you understand what I'm speaking of."
Identical looks of disgusts crossed the faces of the men in front of him. "Politics." Weasley said, spitting out the word like a curse. Perhaps for their world, it very much was. From their own accounts, the Ministry wasn't of much help to anyone, whether it was providing aid or leadership during wartime. "We wouldn't be so lucky as to find a world without one, would we, Evans?"
His clear contempt dripped from each word.
Evans snorted. "Unlikely. It's a necessary evil, I'm told." There was a deliberate pause and then: "Of course, they could all simply do what we did to our politicians, couldn't they, Weasley?" All saw the cruel mischief light his eyes. And felt fear coil around their hearts.
Weasley answered with a devious smirk, "Hmm…skin them alive and roast them in the fireplace you mean? Or cut them into tiny little pieces and feed them to the dogs? Or maybe," He said, enjoying the expressions of horror and hasty steps back of those politicians in attendance, namely more than half the room. "Maybe, the ones we handed over to 'the Dragon'?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Well, it seems they don't like our idea of political reform, mate. Better luck next time."
"Ah, well."
Evans seemed genuinely disappointed, which didn't comfort anyone.
And just like that, this show of emotion swiftly faded away to be replaced by an impassive countenance. "I hope you are not seeking to manipulate us as your counterpart did, Headmaster, because you will find that those who sought to control me and mine had a way of…disappearing. But no, I don't think you're quite the fool He was. So tell me, Headmaster—just who's ridiculous idea was it? Hmm?"
Unforgiving eyes swept out through the crowd. "Well, tell me—anyone, anyone at all?—willing to speak about exactly who is responsible for this stupidity? No?" None stepped forward.
"Seems like this one is a bit smarter than the last Ministry we dealt with—" Weasley began but was interrupted by a grating sound.
"Eh-hem." The sound of Madame Umbridge clearing her throat 'daintily'.
Weasley blinked, in astonishment or resigned acceptance, it was hard to tell.
"I spoke too soon."
"Pardon me, but am I to understand that you are displeased by the arrangements?"
Weasley snorted in contempt. "Displeased isn't exactly the word I was thinking of; more like 'tetchy', 'irritable', 'aggravated', 'pissed off', and my favorite one—'feeling an itching in the wand-hand.'"
The fairy lights cast his hair in a fiery glow and the sharp-toothed grin he gave them made him seem particularly demonic at that moment. Evans looked no better—no human—as he spoke next, expressing the same sentiment, though in far more graphic words than his companion.
"This…party…is both unnecessary and an insult to our alliance, Headmaster. You—Ministry dog—are nothing more than an ugly reminder of exactly whose sense of entitlement and fucked-up priorities allowed the War to descend so rapidly into chaos as it did. So, am I displeased?"
He paused—not to allow anyone time to absorb his word—but to make his next words very clear to someone he considered lower than the ground he walked on. "I am not."
If anyone had believed those words, even they were not so stupid as to speak right then, some primitive instinct telling them to keep their mouths shut if they want to live.
"I am distressed by the fact that I will have to stain these new uniforms, only days after they were sewn with painstaking care by our most beloved Seamstress, with the blood of yet more Ministry fools."
Evans' hand fell on the handle of his sword.
"I am angered that I will have to exert any effort at all, to subdue the Masses in such a way as to make clear my utmost distaste for any and all things related to what you refer to as 'politics' and to me, is nothing more than another word for 'manipulation of people too stupid to know they've been manipulated'."
His other hand made one too-quick-to-see gesture and expertly handled the end of his wand, which suddenly appeared in his hand like—well, like magic.
"I almost feel pity for the families of those who will die tonight—a quick and painless death that none under Ministry employ deserve—who has had to deal with these repugnant, sickening, pathetic excuses for human beings that I see before me."
Both wand and sword angled in front of him in an unmistakable gesture of ready violence.
That's when the first person—a mid-level Ministry Official, Handle Kesler—tried to apparate from Hogwarts. Impossible and deadly—and stupid—since Hogwarts has long had anti-apparation wards and every Magical citizen of the Isles knew it.
But terror and the promise of violence can do many things to otherwise mature people…because he was not the only one.