Scala ad Caelum

by GRND

Ages ago, a wizard known as Herpo the Foul defied Death and doomed the world and those who were yet to be born. His ambition was put to an end, yet briefly, for the events of the past are bound to happen again as the ages come and go. It is in the present age, as Voldemort's reign of terror is deemed as over, that the Wizarding World would understand the story had yet to finish.

51. Chapter 47 - The Four Knights Opening

Hello there, again!

Originally, this was supposed to be a rather long chapter, which would cover the entire month of December, by the name of 'A game for Hogwarts', and it was divided into two parts, each with a name of a chess play. But it was far too long, and I don't like such large chapters unless it's a special one. So it has been split into two different chapters.

Anyhow, I will bother you no more! Hope you enjoy it!

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Chapter 47 - The Four Knights Opening

It was long past noon when Pansy Parkinson woke up, amidst the silence and the darkness of the night. There, in the medical wing, there was no light to disturb the patients, but still, a few rays of moonlight, weak and feeble, seeped through the thin and long window atop of her bed.

Although she did not feel an ounce of pain, Pansy was scared to look down at her left arm. The memories were still quite fresh in her mind, after all.

Umbridge had lied to her. That damned woman had promised her a way to get rid of the Professor she hated the most, but also to gain her favour—the favour of quite a powerful woman. She'd given Pansy a fireproof oil to protect her skin from the Ashwinder's flames, yet it had come up short; very, very short. The pain and the agony she had felt was still fresh in her mind, and the more she had fought against the Ashwinder, the more it had hurt.

A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and her vision became blurry. However, she was fast to swipe them off with the back of her good hand. Someone had entered the infirmary. It could only be one person, but still, Pansy remained alert, and she only put on a scared look when the curtains of the bed were pulled open.

"Hello, how do you feel?" Pomfrey asked with a soft voice. "You've been sleeping for more than twelve hours."

Pansy struggled to get her words out. "B-Better?" she finally said. It was an act, obviously, but a very well done one. "I-I don't remember much…"

"Oh, poor girl," the Medi-witch sighed. "It was a very nasty wound, Pansy, and I'm afraid it's going to give you far more trouble." Pansy was about to break her character at that, but managed to refrain herself just in time. "The flames of an Ashwinder are very, very dangerous, for they can inflict severe damage to our dermis. And you, from what I've been told, had one coiled around your arm for far too much time. Fortunately, Hagrid was able to bring you here in no time at all, and I was able to treat the burns before the matter got out of hand."

Pansy still refused to look down, "Can I… Can I take a look?"

"I would advise against that," Pomfrey shook her head. "It's too soon. As of this moment, the wound needs to remain covered. This is quite the special bandage, you know? It has a mix of medicinal herbs the Centaurs presented me with, and there's a touch of salamander's blood to tend the dead skin."

"How bad is it?"

"It depends on which angle you do look at it," Pomfrey let out a deep sigh as she took a seat on the bed's side, which was ample enough to host the two of them. "In terms of function? Sure, with time and a bit of effort it will be as good as it was prior to the accident. Now, in terms of looks… Like I said, Ashwinder's burns are a serious thing, and I'm afraid your skin will forever be scarred. There's nothing we can do, apart from what has already been done by applying salamander's blood on the wound."

Pansy remained silent this time.

"You will stay here for another day," Pomfrey went on, looking at the girl with pity in her eyes. "Just out of precaution, of course. If there's no spike of pain, and if the bandage remains clean, then you will have your leave. Now, I will inform the Professors that partial rest will be advised in your case for the upcoming weeks, but you will be in adequate condition to return to classes. Also, I want you to come here every two days, to make sure the wound is healing as it should. Then, when the bandage is taken out, you will start rehabilitation. There's a friend of mine who works in St Mungo and he's very good. I will ask him to come here."

The Medi-witch finally stood up, and the bed creaked in relief, "I know this is tough to assimilate, but it all will turn out fine." She gave a soft squeeze to Pansy's shoulder. "Anything you need, don't hesitate and come to me. I'm here for you, Pansy."

And so, she left and closed the bed's curtains once again.

On her behalf, Pansy welcomed the darkness with open arms. Since there was no pain, if she kept her arms under the covers and if she set her gaze on the ceiling, she could imagine nothing had happened at all. She could imagine that no gruesome scar will be there to tarnish her beautiful skin…

But it was there, and nothing could change that.

Now, no wealthy heir would want to take her as a bride, therefore, she would fail to carry out the duty her family had bestowed upon her. The name of Parkinson had survived for many centuries because of its heirs and heiresses, because of the relationships they created with the adequate people. It was long ago when Pansy lost her chance to seduce Malfoy, because of her pride and his inability to live up to his name. But still, she had remained faithful that another heir to prey upon would fall in her way, sooner or later.

That dream would live no more.

And so, as the girl closed her eyes as tightly as she could, a storm of hatred laid waste to any other emotion it found on its way. All Pansy could hope for was for all those who had wronged her to suffer as much as possible. Draco Malfoy, who had disrespected her countless times since they first met. Hagrid, who needed to lose his position in the school and to suffer the weight of the law. Umbridge, who had lied to her and caused her so much damage… Of her, Pansy would deal with on her own, and she would prove that revenge was best served cold.

They all would know of the venom which cursed through the veins of a Parkinson.

---

Needless to say, it all had spiralled out of control in the blink of an eye.

As Ron made his way back to the castle at the head of a silent procession, full of students yet in shock, he could do nothing but feel sorrow towards Hagrid, his old friend. To become a Professor had been his dream, and he had shown it in every class, for those smiles of his, pure and kind like no other, were impossible to fake.

However, poor of him, he had been sacrificed like a simple pawn in a game of chess. By Dolores Umbridge, no less.

Once they made it inside the castle, Harry was the first to storm away, deep lost in a furious trance. Hermione and Neville were quick to follow him, worried features very well expressed in their faces. And the rest, well, it did not take them long to disappear, too; some went downwards, to the dungeons, while most took the staircase which led to the upper level of the castle. No one took the corridor which led to the medical wing.

And so, Ron was left alone with Tracey by his side, as per usual. "You can go back to the common room, if you fancy so," the redhead said as he loosened the scarf around his neck. It still was cold inside the castle, but he felt its weight quite heavy around his neck. "I reckon this will become the main gossip in no time at all."

"And what about you?" Tracey asked back as she, on the contrary, wrapped herself up with her scarf. "Are you off to training, as you usually do?"

"No," Ron replied with a sigh. "I'm in no mood for that. Besides, there's one thing I want to do before lunch. Do you want to tag along?"

That seemed to brighten her face a little, "Lead the way, my dear leader!"

Soon enough, as the students made use of their brief rest between the first and second period, the castle was filled with noise of each and every kind. Ron had to fight his way through a hallway filled with noisy and far too active first-year students, who had just finished a lecture of Charms. Flitwick greeted them with a nod of his head and a happy smile as they strode past him.

When they made it to the medical wing, they were denied entry by its closed doors.

"Great," Tracey sighed. "So, what now?"

Ron ignored her as he paced through the wide hallway, in search of a certain picture of a knight in a green field. And it did not take him long to find it, though it wasn't due to his sharp sight. No, in fact, it was thanks to his ears and the loud shouts from the so-called knight.

"Oh, what a sight to behold!" lord Matheus Grahden exclaimed as he swung his sword from side to side, as if fighting some inexistent enemy. "It's you again! A ginger, a creature born of all evils!"

Ron just rolled his eyes, about to lose his temper. "Yes, it's me again. Say, did you see a girl being carried here? About thirty minutes ago, I reckon." The knight ignored his question. Instead, he performed quite the stupid dance with his sword. To hell with him! "I come to you in need of help, lord Snaketail, because I was told that no being in this world could enter the infirmary without being detected by your sharp sight! Oh, please, be kind and soothe my worry for a dear friend!"

The knight came to a halt, thrusting his sword deep into the ground, and it was a proud and arrogant smile the one he wore. "Finally I get the praise and respect I am due! If so great is your need, then I will be kind and fair to you, wizard of fiery hair! Yes, a girl about your age was carried inside, in the arms of a giant man. Another vile creature I must slay, no doubt. But here I am, confined in this jail of mine!"

"Did anything else happen, lord Snaketail?" Ron pressed on, but the knight remained thin-lipped. It took him a hell of an effort to not grab his wand.

"They confined you in there because such a brave knight can only guard the most important place of the castle," Tracey cut in, in aid of a friend who was about to curse a picture. "That's why no evil creature has ever ventured this far into the castle. Because they fear the great and brave lord Snaketail!"

"Oh, what a clever girl! And cute, too!" the knight laughed as he grabbed his sword once more. He pointed at Ron with it, stabbing at the air between them. "Truer words were never spoken! A lot happened under my eternal watch, indeed, but no blood was shed. A short woman dressed in all pink came from the very same hallway you two did, and it was a fake smile that she sent at the giant as she requested his presence for a certain matter. They both walked away—he, with his head down and gaze set on the floor, and she, proud and victorious like no other before her."

It only took Ron a second to understand they had lost the game before even getting to use their turn. "Off we go, then," the redhead said with a sigh, ignoring the shouting knight they left behind.

"Who was that madman?" Tracey asked as they turned into another hallway.

"Lord Matheus, a bloody lunatic I met last year," Ron huffed, " when I walked my sister to the medical wing. He's as barmy as they come, but he's always around. I reckoned he was just as good of a source of information as any other. Good save, by the way. He had me on the edge, and a bunch of foul words was all I could say to him next."

Again, they needed to fight their way through a corridor infested by first-year students. This time, under a rain of red sparks and deafening shouts. Ron spotted a few familiar faces among them—those of Darren, Tracey's brother, and Sophie Dorian, Shawn's sister. She stared back at him with a sharp look, a subtle nod of her head as a greeting. It ain't hard to believe they share blood! Freaks, I'm calling it!

Only when they stepped into the dungeons, safe from any unwanted ears or eyes, did Ron come to a halt, his back leaning onto the cold wall. "Hagrid is fucked," he just said, ruffling his hair out of frustration.

"Umbridge really planned all of this…" Tracey said in a whisper. "I cannot believe it. True enough, some of the creatures Hagrid had shown to us were very dangerous, but he was always there, eyes open and mind sharp to stop us from committing any foolishness. He loved his job, and he put all he had into it. Yet, she did not hesitate to sacrifice him, and for what?"

"To hurt Dumbledore," Ron replied. "It was him who appointed Hagrid as a Professor, after all. A decision not many considered wise. This will be a huge scandal—one orchestrated by Umbrige and with Parkinson as its main star."

Tracey mirrored him and stood with her back leaning onto the wall and her eyes set on the wall in front of them. "About Parkinson… Do you reckon she will be okay? Those screams… I cannot get them out of my head."

"I don't know," Ron said with a shrug. "Not that I care, to be honest, even if that speaks bad of me. She's a hateful witch, and, most likely, she took part in Umbridge's plan with just as much of a bad intention towards him. I wish her no ill, of course, but this lesson will surely teach her to think twice before hurting another person for the sake of it. Or so I hope."

Tracey looked unsure about the matter as a whole, he could tell; so much that she lowered her head in defeat. "Could we have done something to prevent this?" the girl mused. "Harry tried to warn us many times, more than I care to count, yet we turned a blind eye to his obsession. Had we followed his will, had we been there to stop Umbridge… Could we have accomplished anything?"

"Beats me," Ron said firmly as he walked forward. There, his gaze fell over Tracey, who stared back at him with tears in her eyes. "What's done, done is; that's all I know. No matter how much we cry about it, no matter how much we lament the decisions we did not take in the past, nothing will change. Umbridge has won and Hagrid has paid the price, but make no mistake here—a battle is not a war. She will not stop here, of that I'm sure. However, now we know how far she's ready to go. We will fight back."

Tracey remained silent for a few seconds, then she swept her tears away with the back of her hand. "You have become colder, Ron," she whispered with a heavy voice. "I don't see much of the Ronald Weasley I met two years ago. Not here and now, after hearing those words. You spoke of Hagrid as if he was a simple pawn on the board, one to sacrifice at will. You spoke of battles as if you had fought countless of them. You spoke of Umbridge as if she was just another player you needed to beat in a game of chess… Where's the fire which lit your eyes as soon as any unfairness was committed? What happened to the boy who did not hesitate to fight against the Heir of Slytherin to protect the muggle-borns?"

Just then, a streak of icy air ploughed through the dungeons. Cold and rough it was; enough to make Tracey shiver and to almost extinguish the fire atop of many torches.

"He's right here, for I'm the very same person you met back then," Ron gave her the hint of a mirthless smile. "I still believe in the same things, just as I have the same morals. However, I'm also wiser now, or so I like to think. I have tripped more than twice with the same stone, and I would love to not trip yet again. Courage and kindness can only take you so far, Tracey." He nodded to his own words, subtly yet sure of them.

"Umbridge reached further than I thought she would, and I accept my mistake," the redhead went on. "However, I will not scourge myself because of it. No, instead, I will give her the respect she's due, and I will try my best to get rid of her before it's too late."

"Ron…"

The boy placed his hand over her shoulder, and gave it a soft squeeze. "If I allow my emotions to get the best of me, I would be on my way to her office, wand ready at hand and with a hundred curses at the tip of my tongue. Then, I would also lose, like Hagrid did. We need to take our time, Tracey, we need to think long and hard about this, because she's a powerful woman with even more powerful friends. Besides, we already know who's going to be her next objective. We'd be fools to not use that in our favour."

"Lupin," Tracey sniffed, trying to regain her composure. "He's the one she has targeted the most since the year started. But what is she gonna use to get rid of him? His appointment was not questioned, and the students from each and every House love him."

"She will find a way," Ron said. "It has been proven that she has no qualms about playing dirty. We should expect everything and even more, although I doubt that she'll get to use another student to do the dirty work—Parkinson's example will be fresh in our memories for a long while. Now, for the time being, let's help Harry and keep an eye on her."

"We should also warn Lupin!" Tracey added. It seemed her fiery spirit had won the battle against her desperation, as it always happened with her. "It's him who needs to be watchful of her. Besides, even though I like Hagrid a lot, it's safe to say that he isn't as sharp as Lupin is. If we get him on board, he will be able to take care of himself."

Ron thought about it, but just for a second, "Good idea," he nodded. "I reckon Harry should be the one to do it. He's way closer to Lupin than any of us."

"I will speak with Harry and Hermione about this," Tracey said quickly. "Let me take care of this, please. Otherwise, I will feel like a spectator once again, just as it happened last year. There must be something we can do before it's too late!"

Ron nodded again, and gave her a smile, trying to soothe the girl's worry. However, for much he tried, he just could not care so much about the matter. He felt very sorry for Hagrid, of course, but the thought of Umbridge did not bring so much sense of urgency. Ron despised her with all his might, sure enough, but he would not repeat all those mistakes he once committed.

Tom had proven to him that it was not wise to throw himself into danger without a well-thought plan. This time, he would treat the problem as if it was a game of chess. It did not matter how heartless it was on his behalf, or even the fact he considered Hagrid a lost pawn. Umbridge had opened the game with a very aggressive plan—the Four Knights Opening. Now, it was his time to move the pieces and to test her resolve and skill.

Dumbledore and Umbridge, Headmaster and First Counselor, were the kings who stood on the opposite sides of the board. Harry was one of his bishops, one furious and ready to attack at first sight, and Hermione was the other, way calmer but still moved by emotions. Then, there was Tracey and Neville, his rooks, the kindest pieces and those ready to offer support to whoever needed it.

It was then, as they made their way back to the common room through those cold and silent hallways, when Ron realised how on the spot Tracey's words had been. Finally, he had become colder. Now, would it be enough to win? To that question, he had no answer. All Ron knew was that, this time, it would be him the one to play the game and to move the pieces.

He would not be a tool for others to control once more.

---

It was way past noon when Albus Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts. The flames of the fireplace roared with life as the Great Sorcerer stepped through them, into the warmth of his office.

Fawkes, still in his years of youth, welcomed him with a chirpy squawk, but it was a fickle one instead of the usual choir. His old friend had realised that Albus was not in the mood for a happy welcome. Perhaps it was his frown which gave it away, or maybe it was the way his magical aura fluctuated, long forgotten its ever present calm.

"I have committed another mistake yet again," Albus said, to which Fawkes tilted his head in response. "But to think that Dolores would be so bold… No, I am the only one to blame here, and I must atone. Tonight will be a sad one, my old friend."

Fawkes opened his wings, full of red, orange and golden feathers which blazed to his words. Albus spared a soft smile for the Phoenix, which died the moment he stepped out of his office, into the circular platform. He had a goal in his mind, and no amount of exhaustion would stop him now. When the stone gargoyles turned around and the circular door was opened, Albus was ready to meet the woman who waited outside.

"We are in trouble," Minerva said with a frown. There was cold fury in her eyes, one which could be seen very well through her round glasses, but there also was a touch of worry.

"How's the girl?" Albus asked as the two of them made their way. He felt furious too, but first things came first. "Ashwinders… Hurtful and intense their flames are, enough to melt skin, muscle and bone with ease. Even so, I would trust Hagrid with the safety of the students every week of the day. No, this was work of her, that I know."

"It did not come to such a point, fortunately," Minerva sighed. "She wasn't in contact with the serpent for enough time. However, her dermis was charred beyond recognition. It will scar, and although Poppy thinks that her functionality will suffer no lasting damage, she suspects of nerve and muscular damage… This is horrendous, Albus. How could this happen?"

"Because I, once again, underestimate the darkness which lies within the human heart," the Great Sorcerer said coldly. "I knew that Dolores was here to damage my name and figure, and I was ready for it. However, the moment I granted her the chance, she was quick to seize it. How and why she came to tangle Pansy in her plans is something I have yet to discover. But that will be a matter for another day. Now, what I must do is to apologise—to Pansy, because we could not protect her, and to Hagrid, because he was the victim of a crossfire yet again."

Minerva came to a halt right in front of the Great Hall, between the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff hourglasses. "Pansy must rest as much as possible," she said, "as Poppy will say were you to appear in the medical wing. Your apologies can and must wait, Albus. There is a most urgent matter at hand, and that is to help our friend. Umbridge took him into custody right after the accident took place, and she held Hagrid in her office for many hours."

A rageful gleam flared in Albus's blue irises, "I see," he hummed, still in full control. "If so, I will pay them a visit at this very instant." It only took him a few steps to stop dead in his tracks. "How has everyone taken the news, Minerva?"

"The public opinión is very diverse, I'm afraid," she sighed. Long gone were her stern features, replaced by exhausted ones. They made her many wrinkles to stand out, and for the first time in many years, Albus saw the damage time had caused to her loyal and dear friend. "Some students were scandalised, especially those from third-year and below. The rest, however, those older and more experienced, did not care much about the matter. Now, among us Professors, we all stand by Hagrid's side, although Severus made his opinion on the matter very clear."

It eased Albus a bit to understand the public opinion wasn't so against them, for the time being. Not inside Hogwarts, at least. "Severus is a very strict wizard," he sighed. "But he respects Hagrid, I know that for a fact. Did he come to see Pansy?"

"He did, as soon as the news reached his ears," Minerva nodded. "He was of great help to Poppy, from what I know. He's an expert on many fields associated to that of Healing Magic."

Ah, a bit of light amidst this deep darkness! No more words were exchanged between them two, for their conversation came to an end when Albus walked away, in search of the First Counselor. It was with a quick stride that he walked through those silent hallways. No one dared to stand in his way—not any ghost, and neither any character from the many pictures which hung from the walls. Still, Albus fell their eyes on his figure in each corner he took, and their whispers too.

When he reached Dolores's office, about to burst the door open, it opened by itself, and the clear light of the room did its best to blind him. Yet he did not blink, eyes set on the smiling woman who was seated at the end of it. She wore some bright, formal robes of an orange shade. She was dressed in a rather elegant way, and so was the wide smile on her face.

"Oh, I'm glad to see you, Albus!" Dolores said chirpily. "Please, come inside and take a seat! I believe we have much to discuss!"

Albus did enter the room, but he stood far from the chair he was offered. Inside, he looked around and observed the many diplomas which hung on the walls. "You have reached too far, Dolores," he said coldly as his eyes fell upon the one diploma right above her head. It proclaimed her seat in the Wizengamot, as one of its Eyes. "An innocent child was hurt today, and for the sake of what? Just to hurt me? To tarnish my name and to satisfy Cornelius's dreams of greatness? Is power, by chance, so dear to him that he has become a man beyond reason?"

"Oh, please, do not get started," the witch huffed in annoyance. "Pansy Parkison is a child, on that I agree, but she is not innocent, by any means. However, what does any of this have to do with Cornelius? There's only one man to blame here, and his name is Rubeus Hagrid; your loyal friend and lackey. Ashwinders, Albus. That's what he showed to a third-year class. Creatures classified as dangerous—creatures which they were not meant to treat until fifth-year. That's blatant negligence, if I have ever seen one."

Albus's expression remained emotionless, "Was this your idea, Dolores? Or, perhaps, was it his?"

"To hatch a bunch of monsters and to throw them at some poor students?" the First Counselor replied with a cruel smirk. "I'm afraid that was Hagrid's idea." She then pulled some letters from under her desk. "Here, take a look at these." The letters remained unread on the table, which made her smirk quiver for a fickle instant.

"Whatever!" she huffed in annoyance. "These letters come from all around the country, Albus, written by the hands of worried parents who have heard of this new Professor of Magical Creatures. To be precise, they have heard about his dark fascination with dangerous beasts, and also, about his lack of expertise on the matter, only proper for someone who was expelled from Hogwarts at the age of fourteen… Oh, and there's also the fact his name is still remembered due to the incidents of the Chamber… I'm afraid some changes within school literacy will be needed. The Board of Governors is already working on the matter."

Albus just shook his head, disappointed yet not surprised. "Ah, the Board. Spurred by the likes of Lucius and the Yaxley twins, most likely. So, you have gathered the support of the public opinion and the Board, and I presume that it will not take long for Cornelius to grant you more authority within Hogwarts, now that you have created the perfect excuse. It really saddens me to see how we fight each other, instead of walking together towards a better world. And it will be the children, those who will suffer the most due to our senseless dispute. What a tragedy!"

"There's a very easy way to prevent this tragedy, as you just referred to it," Dolores cut in. "Surrender once and for all, Albus. Step aside so we can reach new heights. You have been a great man and an even greater wizard, but time is a foe not even you can defeat. You are halting the progress of this country with your stupid and foolish views. Step aside and let us guide this country into greatness."

Albus just turned around, "I will be gone the moment Hogwarts does not need me anymore, regardless of my feelings towards it. However, that day has yet to come. And it will be a long wait, I'm afraid, given the fact people like you are the alternative. No, I will not step aside, Dolores. You go and tell Cornelius. He can be bribed by the pureblood lords as much as he pleases, he can bathe in their dirty money and he can pass as many laws against the downtrodden as he pleases… But one day, he will be thrown out by the very same people he oppressed, not by me. And I will stand aside, watching it all from afar, as I fulfil my duty towards Hogwarts and its students."

There was a rabid look on Dolores's face, just as there were a bunch of foul words at the tip of her tongue. Yet, Albus did not grant her enough time to argue back. Instead, he just walked out of the room, and the door remained wide open for much she tried to close it with her magic.

As of that moment, Albus felt defeated and sad.

But he did not show it on his face, for another presence could be felt nearby. A magical signature he knew very well, but also, one who would surely demand another argument for which he felt rather exhausted.

And it was Severus Snape who came to meet him, "About time you blessed us with your presence, oh, Great Sorcerer," he said mockingly. "Many things have happened as you were out. I could have done something, perhaps, but it was you who told me to stand aside."

There was a very faint buzz around them, and it had a magical touch. "You used that spell of yours to grant us a bit of privacy, didn't you?" Albus asked, instead. He would be forever amazed by Severus's talent and wits when magic was involved. "Well, if so, walk with me, Severus, and talk your mind about what happened today and whatever matter feels heavy enough to restrain."

It was a very prominent frown, the one to appear on Severus's face; yet he did as told and walked by his side. "I have nothing to discuss. Nothing you don't already know, at least."

A tense silence joined the walk, and it was with a heavy embrace that it did. "I told you to stand aside because I do not trust your judgement anymore," Albus let out a deep sigh, eyes closed in defeat. "You murdered Gilderoy when there was no need, Severus. You are no one to take a life."

"Oh, but you are, right?" the young Professor bit back. "He was a danger to us, Albus. He knew far too many things, and the way he came to learn them is of no importance. All it takes is a word in excess, or the sounding of a wizard adept in the field of Mental Arts, and we are done. However, that risk will trouble us no more, because I have seen to it." And now it was a cold smile, the one his face wore. "But that, however, was something I decided. Had it been you the one to come up with such a decision, then his death would have meant something. Arrogance and pride, Albus, that's what I call that. Am I wrong, by any chance."

Albus's lips almost became a thin line, "We have already discussed this. You have your opinion, and I have mine."

"Of course, Great Sorcerer," Severus huffed. "Now, let's focus on today's events. If I'm still of trust to discuss them, of course." The young Professor waited for a response, but found none. "Whatever! Where did you go, Albus? And what happened in your venture that made you so exhausted and gloomy."

"I went in search of Tom and those who support him," Albus said bluntly, with the confidence of a man who knew that his words were protected by a very special spell. "An old friend of mine contacted me this week, and told me plenty of rumours about the South—rumours of people who were there and who then banished. Some of the descriptions I was given fitted the profile of this so-called Ashram, and also of Peter. And it was them, for the magical signatures I discovered in the outskirts near a little village belonged to them."

Just then, Peeves came from the left corridor and turned into them. All the mirth his face contained was quickly erased, replaced by surprise and fear. He flew in the opposite direction as if he was pursued by the devil itself. Albus found it rather amusing, although Severus did not.

"It was very old and faint, truth be told, almost gone, but theirs unmistakably," Albus went on. "I followed its trace, and it led me to the little village; a wizarding settlement in the North of Spain. And there, it led me to an old, rusty pub, one similar to the Hog's Head Inn. Down there, into its basement, the floor of stone was charred and cracked, just as the wooden walls were sunk and rotted. Also, there was another magical signature, one extremely rare which I could not label. And so, I reached a dead end."

Severus put on a thoughtful mask, "And it banished, just like that, and not even you could follow the trace."

"Correct, I'm afraid," Albus nodded.

Their walk continued in silence. Severus tried to solve the riddle Albus had deemed as impossible, while the Headmaster's mind travelled a few levels below, to the medical wing, where Pansy rested. The more he thought about her, the more he wanted to rush the Ministry and demand answers from Cornelius himself.

"Once again, we are lost," Severus said sourly. "Each time we try to hunt down those bastards, they find a way to escape. I'm losing hope, Albus, but first and foremost, I will lose my patience, which runs very scarce nowadays. I went after them alone, and I failed. You were alone after them, and you failed. Our secondary plan has also failed. I'm done keeping an eye on the British purebloods. As far as I know, their lord is dead and forgotten to them."

They came to a halt in front of the stone gargoyles which guarded the entrance to Albus's office. "And now it all will get worse," the Headmaster muttered.

"Are you afraid of Umbridge and Fudge?" Severus frowned.

"Of them? No, not the slightest," Albus shook his head. "However, I fear what they can do as I'm gone. Look at what happened today. I left this morning, even before the sun could crown the sky, and yet she took notice of it and acted upon my leave. I could have left any of you to watch her, true enough, but I underestimate her greatly. However, that will not be possible anymore. After these scandals, which will be spread by the Daily Prophet, Dolores will be granted way more authority than that of a Professor. Her word will have more weight than even Minerva's, and it will be second to mine alone. No, I cannot move freely anymore, Severus."

"Then, allow me to hunt them down," Severus proposed with a firm voice. "I have unfinished business with those two, more so with Peter. There's also that red-haired woman, but she has yet to give any signs of life. She's a wildcard on the deck, and Merlin knows we already have plenty of them."

"And that, Severus, is why you will not go after them," Albus stated. "Those unfinished business of yours will be your bane. You live with a heavy regret, that I know, but one which will destroy you were you to not let it go, undoubtedly… Hatred and repentance cloud your judgement, and they make you dangerous. To those around you, like poor Gilderoy, but also to yourself. No, you will not go after them. Not until you manage to take a hold of your heart first."

It was sheer rage that appeared in Severus's eyes, but Albus saw way more deep inside them, even those emotions he tried to conceal so much. Severus also felt betrayed due to his lack of trust. It hurt the Great Sorcerer to see that, for this boy in front of him had been way more than a student. To Albus, Severus was a friend, even if the sentiment was not shared, but also the only other person to share Tom's burden with. He saw so much of his past self in the young Professor—the talent, the loneliness and even the same mistakes and the search for a redemption.

And because of that and way more, Albus could do nothing but stand like a fool in the middle of the hallway as Severus went back to the dungeons with a furious stride. His long, black cloak waved after him as if a curtain of darkness; like the one which covered Albus's heart just then.

One slip; that's all it had taken Dolores to punish him. Albus had suspected it for a while, but now he knew for sure. This woman was much more dangerous than Cornelius. Her ambition was just as great as that of the Minister, but she was far bolder to make them true.

"And here I stand with my back against the wall yet again," Albus mused with a sigh. "Cornered by those who once were friends of mine, as I see how Tom walks further and further away…" Undoubtedly, the Pureblood Elite would join the conflict, if they had yet to do it. And their whispers would reach far and wide into Corenlius's weak heart and mind, making him believe that Albus was after his position of Minister for Magic.

Still he embraced this new role with no hint of regret, for, as of today, his persona of Hogwarts's Headmaster was far more important than that of the Great Sorcerer.

---

For much he tried, Harry could not sleep that night.

Whenever his eyes closed, Parkinson's shouts became all he could hear, just as Hagrid's pale and worried face became all he could see. There was an intense wind outside, one which drummed against the windows again and again, as if instigating him to remain wide awake. Still, what really kept him awake was his sense of shame. He had known that Umbridge would have no qualms to achieve her objective, and yet, despite that knowing Dumbeldore was yet out of her reach, he had allowed her to attack those dear to them.

Fudge and Umbridge. Umbridge and Fudge, his mind repeated in a trance.

Finally, at some point late into the night, Harry managed to fall asleep. Dawn was quick to come, and despite his lack of rest, he felt active and full of energy; to a point in which the covers felt heavy and rough to the touch. He stood up like a bolt, surprising Dean, whose loud yawn was cut halfway through it.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" he gasped. "You almost gave me a heart-attack!"

"Sorry," the boy said, mind already busy with far more important matters, "I thought that I had a Quidditch training to attend. Wood hates lack of punctuality."

Dean sent him a weird look, but still said nothing. Fortunately for Harry, their fickle conversation had woken the others up, and it was Neville's and Seammus's yawns which filled the room. "Please, tell me that we don't have a lecture of History right after breakfast," the Irish said as he stretched his legs.

"We do," Nevill answered from his bed, "and then comes one of Charms."

And so, Harry's desires of revenge were put off, replaced by the monotonous life of Hogwarts. To say he did not pay attention in the lectures was an understatement. Not ever Hermione's glances, full of worry and pity, could distract the boy from his objective—to come up with a plan to make Umbridge pay.

However, what he did not know was the fact his chance would present itself in front of him, right before lunch.

It was delivered by a very pretty girl from Slytherin, of dark hair, brown skin and green eyes whom Harry had never interacted with. "The First Counselor wants to see you in her office, Potter." She left after that under the surprised eyes of Harry and his friends.

"Who was that?" Seammus whistled. "You are a cheeky bastard, Harry!"

However, his mirth died in the blink of an eye, for Harry's eyes remained set on the older girl, looking way past her.

Neville let out a deep sigh just then, "Come on, guys, just let him be. On my behalf, I'm famished, and I would rather sit in the Great Hall with a dish of beef in front of me instead of standing here like a fool." Dean and Seammus were quick to nod at those words, and so, the three boys left in a rush.

"That was smooth from Neville," Hermione sighed. For the hundredth time in the morning, her eyes fell upon Harry, full of worry yet again. "You need to keep your cool, Harry. More so in front of Umbridge…"

"What?!" Harry cut in, turning around so fast that Hermione flinched in surprise. "How the hell do you expect me to behave? She has ruined Hagrid's life! That hellspawn of a woman finally did it, Hermione! Since I met her this summer, she's tried to control me, to make me act against Dumbledore. Up to this day, I've played by her rules, I've been her obedient puppy. And yet, even when I carried out every task she gave me, she ruins the life of one of my dearest friends!"

"Lower your voice!" Hermione mused back with a frown. And not without reason, for his little outburst had gathered a few spectators. "Come on, let's walk to her office. Yes, you and me, Harry. And don't you dare to glare daggers at me. I'm on your side—always have and always will."

Harry followed her. At first, all he wanted to do was to argue back, for he found in their argument the perfect way to vent out his frustrations. But then he snapped out of the rageful storm which had laid siege to his mind for the past hours, and realised that his friend did not deserve such treatment. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," the boy finally said, his voice heavy with sorrow and shame. "I'm stupid. I'm very stupid…"

It had taken him more than ten corridors and two levels, but still she acted as if his behaviour was totally understandable. "Finally," she said with a nod. "Welcome back, Harry. Now, if you don't mind, let's think of a way to hurt Umbridge. I too want her to pay for all the evil she has committed. Not only towards Hagrid or Lupin, but towards all the Werewolves and Vampires which lost their jobs and households due to her laws."

"But, is there anything we can achieve?" Harry asked sourly, a bit hopeless. He would fight regardless of their odds, of course, but even he could acknowledge how much of a disadvantage they were in. "She's a very powerful woman, Hermione. Hell, the Minister for Magic himself is her most avid defender! If it was so easy to act against her, Dumbledore would have done it already."

"Perhaps," Hermione hummed, unbothered by his rambling, "but you got one thing wrong. As great as Albus Dumbledore is, he cannot act against the Minister and his lackey; not in a direct way, at least. Think about it, Harry. From what I know, it has always been said that Fudge's appointment happened because Dumbledore refused to seize the position of Minister. I'm sure many have grown happy under Fudge's term, such as the pureblood families and many of the Ministry's officials, but even more would vote against him if the chance arises. No, Dumbledore cannot be blunt in his approach, for it would mean, whether he likes it or not, a claim to the role of Minister. Not only would it tore the streets apart and disrupt the peace, but it could possibly mean the end of his tenure as Hogwarts's Headmaster—his one and only dream and ambition."

Harry was left speechless for a few seconds, so in shock he almost tripped with his own foot. "If you put it that way…" he started, "Well, then, I guess you are right."

"Of course I am!" she said, a faint blush brightening her cheeks. "I've given this plenty of thought; a few sleepless nights included. Dumbledore is cornered, but he cannot do this all by himself because he's a much better man, and it's his duty to do things better. However, unbeknownst to Fudge and Umbridge, he is not alone. We will help him. You and me, but also with the help of Ron and the others if they want. Now, don't ask me for a detailed plan, for I have yet to come up with one. I do not know how much it will take me, or even if I will be able to think of one… All I know is that I refuse to give up and let her win."

And just like that she came to a halt.

If Harry were to take the corner and turn into the next hallway, he would spot Umbridge's office at the end of it. However, he stopped right by Hermione's side, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw many things. Harry saw fear and worry, perhaps sorrow and uncertainty too. But there was one emotion which arose among them all, and it was her determination.

And he saw all those emotions within himself, too.

"In our first year, Voldermot failed to obtain the Stone of Life because of us," Harry said, full of energy, long forgotten his doubts and hopelessness. "In our second year, it was the Heir of Slytherin who could not purge the school, and it was Hagrid's name the one to be cleaned. And it was us who never gave up, on neither of those occasions. This will not be any different."

And just like that, Harry turned into the next hallway with a resolved stride. To stop Umbridge, both brains and courage were needed. Hermione was much more intelligent than him, so it would be up to him to face the First Counselor and to protect all those she would try to take out.

---

Ron let out a deep sigh as he observed his two friends from afar, hidden under the corner of an adjacent hallway. He felt like a madman, stalking them from where they could not see him. Hermione stood rooted to her spot, just as Ron did, as Harry strode towards Umbridge's office.

"He's out of his mind," the redhead mused as he walked away. "Since the academic year started, he's tried to warn us against Umbridge again and again, and we laughed at him, me being the one to laugh the loudest. Now it turns out that Harry was right all along… Merlin, we are in a bloody pickle!"

"Let him be," Gerd said, perched atop of his shoulder. "He is not furious towards any of you, but towards the witch who hurt his dear friend. Harry Potter will be a very difficult piece to control, yet one extremely useful."

"I do not like to talk about my friends as if they were pieces of a chess set," Ron frowned.

"But they are," Gerdnyaram pointed out, "and I thought we agreed on that. To stop this woman you must control the board, and that includes the pieces on it. Else, you can stand aside and do nothing, and then you shall see how she takes down that wizard by the name of Remus Lupin next. It is up to you, Ronald—to remain a spectator once more, or take the matter into your hands."

Ron did not give her an answer this time. She was right, and they both knew it; what was the point? Still, he gave the idea plenty of thought as he went back to the Great Hall, where he first had spotted his friends, in hopes of being able to enjoy the last minutes of breakfast.

In the end, he barely had time to grab a toast and to bite through it as he and Tracey made their way outside, towards the greenhouses. It was the coldest day of the year so far. The school's ground had been frosted during the night; icicles hung from the castle's windows, yet the trees of darker logs and leaves remained dry, undefeated by Winter.

To say Ron paid no attention to the lecture was an understatement. In fact, it was Tracey who saved his day multiple times, dealing with the Mandrakes each time Professor Sprout walked close to them. She also sent him many worried looks, but Ron ignored them too; although not as easily.

How does she intend to take Lupin down? Ron pondered. Not only is he very well-loved by the students, but he's an excellent Professor. Every time Umbridge had visited one of Lupin's lectures, the wizard had acted as he should—confident about his knowledge of the matter and proud of his methods. She will play dirty, as he did with Hagrid.

However, it would be later on, as they made their way back to the castle, when Ron would notice something. It was a flash of pink which caught his eyes, there, amidst the frosted picture the Godric's Courtyard was that day.

Umbridge wore a wide smile on her face as she talked to some students from Slytherin—Marcus Flint and Claire Tossard were there, among others from seventh-year whose names Ron did not know. He came to a halt so out of the blue that Tracey had no time to react at all.

"Ouch!" the girl exclaimed as she crashed against his back nose upfront.

"Look there," Ron cut in as he grabbed her by the arm, hiding their figures behind a thick column of stone. "That's extremely suspicious…"

Tracey eyed the group with a keen eye, and her brows furrowed in concentration, "Didn't Harry say that Parkinson was approached by her? Is she gonna use the seventh-years to take Lupin down?"

Ron had no answer to that question, unfortunately. "It could be," he mused, lost deep in thought. "But I do not think so. It's just a gut of mine, but I think this is different. For starters, from what little I know about Tossard and the rest of the seniors, they are so focused on their studies they don't care about anything else. All but Flint, that's it."

"Daniel isn't with them," Tracey pointed out. "He's the only one out of the picture."

Ron blinked at that, "Tracey, you are a bloody genius!" He turned around so fast she didn't see it coming. Smile on his face and eyes shining with mirth, Ron grabbed the girl by her arms and gave them a soft squeeze. "I could kiss you right now!"

It made her blush, to a point in which she felt the need to look to the side. "Ehm, thank you, I guess?" she spluttered. But even before she could regain her composure, Ron had already left in a hurry, rushing through the frosted grounds. And so, she was left alone with her thoughts, which once more revolved about her friend and his strange behaviour.

Ron, however, could only think about one thing—to locate Daniel Williams. He left behind hallway after hallway, but no trace of the Head-Boy was found. His breath came out raggedly, a cloud of steam with each exhalation. He went down and even below, to the dungeons, and up and even above, around the Seventh Courtyard. Until, finally, he would stumble upon the first lead, in the form of another student from seventh-year.

And just then, as the girl at the other end of the corridor walked away from him, it all came back to Ron. It was a foggy memory, dark and rushed. One he had tried to push to the far end of his mind. One saw through eyes which were not his—through some golden, cold eyes. He did know her name.

And despite that, Ron pushed all those thoughts away along with this specific memory. As he ran forward, in pursuit of this girl, the redhead felt Gerd's warmth within him. She was far away, but still she had felt his guilt.

"Excuse me," Ron started once he catched up to her, "you are Penelope Clearwater, right? Percy's friend?"

It took the Ravenclaw Prefect by surprise—whether it was his question or the way he had appeared out of nowhere, full sweaty and red-faced, was something Ron ignored.

"Ehm, yes, that's me," the raven-haired girl replied hesitantly. "You must be Ronald, right? Percy did talk a lot about you." She was tall for a girl, and rather pretty with her round face and even rounder glasses. She carried a bag which hung loose from her shoulder, no doubt full of books and notebooks.

"The very same!" Ron gave her a wide smile, which seemed to freak her out even more. "I was looking for the Head-Boy when I happened to stumble upon you. There's something I need to consult with him. An academic doubt, you see?"

"Williams?" Clearwater asked back. "Although we shared a period of Transfiguration with Slytherin almost an hour ago, they all left in a hurry as soon as it finished. Moreover, I'm not very close to any of them, precisely. We have a formal relationship, but that's all."

"Oh, I see. Still, it is a very important doubt, and so, I must find him as soon as possible…"

"Well, now that I think about it, Williams was the only one who left the class alone," she said. "All the other Slytherins were quick to gather and to go down the staircase. The Head-Boy, however, just walked in the other direction, an annoyed look on his face."

"To where?" Ron pressed on.

"That way," the Prefect sighed, "towards the abandoned hallway close to the Astronomy Tower."

Ron gave her a thankful smile, then he ran to where she'd pointed at. As soon as his back was turned on her, the smile was erased from his face. Though his stride did not falter. "Dear Merlin, I'm a bloody psychopath…" Not only had he gazed into the eyes of someone he had almost killed, but he had even smiled at her.

And all because of necessity.

Fortunately, Ron was now faced with another problem which allowed him to ease his conscience. "Where the hell is Daniel?" he grunted to himself. He walked through the abandoned hallway, the one Penelope had told him about, but there was not a single soul here. "Think, you damn idiot!"

Ron closed his eyes and focused—thus, he embraced the Sense and it all became much clearer. With a deep breath, he expanded his magical aura. It was a hard task, one he'd practised plenty of times. Still, he had never tried to cover so much range. It was a weird sensation, the one he felt. Theoretically, it was rather simple, but now, to achieve it and make it practical? That was a very different thing.

As per usual, Hogwarts's magic was the one to catch his attention, like a huge, blinding light surrounded by countless others, smaller and duller. Ron put all his might into the task, and made his way through all of them, trying to discern a very specific aura within them. The more he expanded his aura, the more he felt and the fainter they all became. It was as if trying to extend one's finger to reach an item out of reach, but here, his arms could be endless.

And he found him, finally!

Amidst that chaotic sea of auras there was a calm one, more prominent and with an unique touch. Ron let out a tired sigh as he opened his eyes, then made his way to the next hallway. At the far end of it there was a very old door; ajarred, not closed. It allowed him to see the faint light which came through it, far brighter than those of the few torches he found in the way.

Ron knocked once before getting inside.

There, Daniel sat on a chair with his legs up on a table, brows so arched they were about to pop out of his face. "The hell are you doing here, Ronald?" he said sourly. A now closed book rested atop of his lap; one very thick and of a green cover. "First of all, since when can you expand your magical aura at will so far? That's a very advanced technique…"

"It's a long story," the redhead replied, taking a seat on a nearby chair. Its wood looked so fragile that his weight would be enough to make it crumble, but it held. "And I know for a fact that you don't like them."

"Oh, how considerate on your behalf," the Head-Boy snorted. "Now, if you are so kind, honour me and answer my bloody question. Because I'm damn curious about such an important doubt, enough for you to skip a lesson of History."

"I needed to ask you something, so I went in search of you," Ron replied calmly. "I stumbled upon Clearwater on the way, and she told me where she last saw you. I got lost in this bloody abandoned section, so I resorted to more complex methods. And here I am."

Daniel then dropped his legs from the table and placed the book over the closest one. "Shoot, then."

"About an hour ago, Umbridge met with every senior student from Slytherin," Ron explained. "All but you. Say, is there anything going on here?"

Daniel answered his question with a long silence. With that, and with a sharp look. "She might have requested our assistance with a certain matter," the Head-Boy finally said. "Why are you so interested?"

"Last time she met with a student in private," Ron replied, "a Professor got sacked and the said student ended up in the medical wing." There was no point in hiding the secret from Daniel. He was a very valuable ally, as he had already proven when the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

Daniel could not mask the surprise his features showed, "For real?" Ron just nodded in response. The Head-Boy ruffled his hair, unconsciously, as he got deep lost in thought. A gesture the redhead shared, though his was one of frustration rather than of confusion. "So it was all schemed, eh? I'm not Hagrid's biggest fan, for the record, but he was a decent bloke who knew about his things. It makes sense, not gonna lie."

"So…" Ron pressed on.

"Yes, she sent us a message through an elf this very morning, before breakfast," Daniel confessed. "She knows about Slytherin's ambition, a trait my promotion has displayed more than any other in recent years. We all want to reach far, Ronald. Even Flint, although his ambition lies in the world of Quidditch. She's heard about it, and so, she gave us promises of a bright future in exchange for a helping hand about a certain matter. And for which matter, you may wonder? Well, that's something I don't know, for, as you can see, I did not attend the bloody meeting."

Ron remained silent for an entire minute. For much he thought about it, there still were many pieces he ignored. "What do you think?" he said, instead.

His question put a smirk on Daniel's face, "Look at that!" he whistled. "Long gone seems to be the hot-heated ginger I had to knock-out in his first year so he could not get himself expelled. It seems he has finally learned to use his brains." He let out a brief guffaw due to the annoyed glare Ron sent at him. Then, with a bit of effort, he turned serious once more, "You asked for my opinion, and here you have it: if what you said about Hagrid it's true, then Hogwarts is in for a wild ride. In the forthcoming days, I predict, Dumbledore's name will take a huge blow, as it did last year. People have a very short memory, you see, and it does not matter that they ended up resorting to him yet again. All that matters is the present, and the present says that he appointed an unqualified friend as a Professor and that Fudge did good to send Umbridge to Hogwarts."

"Probably, Umbridge will be given more authority within Hogwarts, perhaps a position of power almost equal to the figure of the Headmaster," Daniel went on. "Not one above, that's for sure—the name of Albus Dumbledore is far too great to be second to none. However, even if the Daily Prophet has gathered enough support for their cause outside the castle, most will remain loyal to the Headmaster here. Most, that's it. It was long ago when I came to learn that anyone can be bought for a suitable price, let it be in the form of gold, promises or even sinful pleasures."

"Wait a moment," Ron cut in. "Are you implying that she's tried to buy the services of your friends? To do what, exactly?"

"Beats me," Daniel said with a shrug. "Even so, you got one thing wrong. Umbridge hasn't tried to buy the services of my pals, she's already done it. They are an ambitious bunch, like I said, but also weak of mind. The only exception is Claire Tossard. She's a tough one to crack, that frenchy. A woman who knows her worth and that of her beliefs. One of a kind, truly."

Needless to say, his well-reasoned answer had set all the alarms in Ron's mind. "So, she has started to gather support inside the castle, and more will flock to her side if they see it worth it… I do not like this one bit…"

"Me neither," Daniel said, "but it's what it is. Why bother so much? In the end, Dumbledore will prevail, as he always does. Obviously, all this unnecessary drama bothers me greatly, but it ain't nothing when compared to the Chamber of Secrets. That shit was scary—this is not. On my behalf, I will try to go as unnoticed as possible; to ride out the storm, let's say. This is my last year, after all, so I need to be prepared for my final exams if I want to get a good position within the Ministry. Oh, one more thing. I might be fond of you, Ronald, but I will knock you out once more if I think you will hurt our chances to win the House Cup. As I once confessed to you, it's my dream to win the Cup in each and every of my Hogwarts's years."

Ron said nothing as he stood up, ready to leave the classroom as there was nothing else to discuss. However, he stopped when his hand was about to grace the knob. "Why are you even here, all alone?" he asked.

"Trying to enjoy the peace while it lasts," Daniel replied. "Trying to enjoy it while it lasts…"

---

Lucius Malfoy was dressed in his most elegant robes for such a special day.

The pureblood lord wore a long coat of black wool, riveted with many details of a crimson shade on the neck and the sleeves. The crest of his House was not sewn on it, for it was carried atop of his cane—and bright shone the snake head, its fangs of a pearly silver whereas the tongue and the skin of a darker one.

Many eyes followed his stride as he paced through the Atrium. Lucius felt their envy in them, their disdain towards a much better wizard; as it only should. Peasants could only dream to be as noble and proud as those of the Blood were. He jumped the line where the workers were scanned, stopped by those golden gates, and the guard did not dare to raise his eyes, much less to complain aloud. It seemed he had finally learned his lesson.

Today was a good day.

Finally, he would get to see the beginning of the end of Albus Dumbledore. And the best of it would be that Lucius would watch his fall from the shadows, safe from the monster the Great Sorcerer was. Fudge, his loyal puppet, had finally put his name on track for the next elections. Mainly, due to the lack of effort from his main competitor—Amelia Bones, who seemed to prefer her position as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—and thanks to the great work Dolores had carried out in Hogwarts.

All Lucius needed to do was to whisper as he pleased into the Minister's ears, like he had always done. This country needed a powerful leader to guide the Pureblood Elite during such uncertain times, in which their congeners from across the sea had casted them away from so many alliances. And that was Lucius's duty, who would control Fudge in search of a better future.

Soon enough, they would all kiss his feet and beg for favours and protection—Grengrass, Yaxley, Nott, Bulstrode and the rest. It was time for the Great House of Malfoy to restore the respect and glory it was due.

He hopped into the elevator when there was no one else there, and so he went down, towards the First Level. It was a quick descent, and even quicker was his pacing through the corridor. At least, an elegant sight welcomed him, that of those purple and golden carpets. A gift the Great House of Malfoy donated to Cornelius five years ago.

Outside the Minister's office stood a not-so pleasant sight, that of Gareth Marshall, an Auror who had given Lucius plenty of trouble since the War ended. And cold was the look he gave the pureblood lord; cold and full of disdain. Still he stepped aside, his face a poor try of an emotionless mask.

Lucius opened the door with a waive of his hand, and he stepped inside the large, oval office as if he owned it; which was not far from reality, all in truth. There, as he crossed the threshold, his eyes caught a flash of a dull golden. There was another Auror here—a young, blonde woman, the very same who was sent to Hogwarts last year, as the Chamber of Secrets became a matter of national security. Her eyes did not show any hatred at all. In fact, she wore a better mask than that of her senior.

It seemed that Lucius would need to keep an eye on this girl…

"Oh, Lucius, my dear friend!" Cornelius greeted from the other end of the office, already up on his feet. "Come inside and take a seat! Do you fancy any kind of beverage? Ask, and any desire of yours shall be granted!"

Of course it will. I was the one who paid for your entire winery. Lucius smiled at him, instead, "It's a bit too early for that, my friend. No, let's get straight to the point. I am a busy man, perhaps as much as you are these days."

The door closed after them, yet Marshall remained outside. Only a pair of eyes set watch on the lord's back, although they felt as heavy as a dozen of them.

"Oh, sure!" Cornelius laughed. "The elections, Lucius! What a mess they are! I find myself with no free time to spare in any of my hobbies. Fortunately, and thanks to your great help and advice, it all has turned out perfect; better than expected, even."

Lucius gave him a curt nod as he took a seat across the table, "I'm glad to hear that. However, before we get to it, I will ask you to send this young Auror outside. I'm sure she's a great professional, for despite her young age, she has already been tasked with the honour of guarding the Minister. But I find this lack of trust rather insulting, my dear friend…"

Cornelius turned pale as marble in the blink of an eye, "Oh, pardon me, Lucius! It was a little slip on my behalf. I have been very busy, like you said, and… Well, you've heard the man, Sweeney. Do us a favour and let us discuss our matters in private."

The girl did as bid, which left the two men alone, finally. Ever the weak and pathetic man, my dear Cornelius. It's no wonder the world is in such a chaotic state as of today. Far too many weaklings have seized power, whereas us, those of the Blood, have been casted aside. And chaos could be used by the smart to set their ground, to create order at will.

"Thank you," Lucius started. "Now, to begin with, let's talk about Dolores and the wonderful work she'd done at Hogwarts. To think Dumbledore would fall so low… He loves to gloat about his dear School and how important it is to him, yet, he had no qualms about appointing a very underqualified Professor just because he was a friend of his… And a poor girl was hurt due to such a decision. The daughter of Charles and Beatrice Parkinson, no less."

Cornelius had the nerve to avoid his eyes. "Honestly, to think Albus would have such poor judgement… It blows my mind. That gatekeeper of his, he's the very same man we sent to Azkaban last year. When the truth about the Heir of Slytherin came out and he was set free, the citizens loved him and his story, however, now his name will be tarnished yet again."

"But this time it was his mistake, not yours," Lucius cut in as he pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of his coat. "And now he shall pay the price. Here, take a look at this, Cornelius. It is a very long article, but Skeeter has done a wonderful job at telling the many mistakes of Dumbledore's management. Just as good as Dolores's did at exposing them, perhaps."

The Minister was quick to grab the copy of the Daily Prophet, and ever faster were his eyes to scan through its cover. One by one fell the pages, and his face turned paler and paler with each of them. Make up your mind already, you stupid bastard. You wish to see your opponent defeated and to seize power, but even when others do it for you, you still hesitate. A very weak man, indeed.

Cornelius dropped the newspaper on the table as he let out a deep sigh, "All these decisions he has taken in the past three years… It is not proper of Albus."

"No one can deny how great of a wizard he is," Lucius said. This was time to use the sweet talk—the harsh words could wait for later. "And how great of a man he has always been. However, there's something you need to understand, Cornelius. Time is unbeatable, and it's a heavy burden to carry, more so for as long as Dumbledore has done it. Undoubtedly, none of the decisions he took had another purpose but to grant the students the best he could offer. However, it did not work out, and perhaps it is time for a change of perspective."

"A change…" the Minister mused.

"Change is always tough and hard to welcome, but it is necessary in order to achieve progress," Lucius said. "Now, if you worry about the public opinion, which is totally understandable, then give them results. That's all they care for, in the end. Show them that Hogwarts can prosper under this Ministry, that this country can become a much better one, and you will not hear any complaints on their behalf."

To achieve such an ideal world was a much more complex matter, of course, and so, it would be Lucius who would take this weak man by the reins. Unfortunately, a few sacrifices would be needed.

"Last year, they wanted you out of your seat," the pureblood lord went on, "and it was the name of Albus Dumbledore which they all acclaimed. The scales have turned, however, and now the two of you find yourselves in a stalemate. Because of this, it is time to give the people what they want." Lucius then pulled a piece of parchment from the pocket of his coat. On it, several measures had been written. Tough yet necessary ones.

And Cornelius read it with avid eyes, which opened in awe in no time at all. "To grant subsidies to those families in need of economic resources in case of a clean criminal record, more so to those of Knockturn Alley. To increase the taxes on the countries' great wealths, and to reduce them on those who gain the least. To direct part of the public funds into the fields of education, healthcare and public safety; included the creation of different units such as that of Public Safety in order to decrease the crime in the suburban ghettos of Wizarding Britain…"

"To reduce the cost of basic products such as potions or enchanted items when there's a medical condition involved," Lucius completed the list. "To improve the relationship with other countries, bringing recreational events of international calibre here." The fact Lucius, with the help of his fellow allies, had snatched the Quidditch World Cup from the Americans was something Cornelius did not have known yet. It would be the jewel of the crown, after all was said and done.

"And to give the youth better work conditions as they graduate from Hogwarts," Lucius finished. "The list is far larger, but these would be some of the more prominent ideas. Obviously, some of them will cause us, the Pureblood Elite, many problems. But you must not worry about it, for I have held many reunions with those families from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and most gave me green light." And those who did not, names such as Prewett, Longbottom and Fawley, would pay the price of their arrogance when the time to reap the rewards was to come.

"This is…" the Minister spluttered, "this is great, Lucius! They will love me!"

And there it is, Lucius smirked to himself, that ambition of yours, Cornelius. Your bane, and my glory. Oh, such a great trait it is, but in your case, it's far greater than your talent. Only a few are fated to be great, and you do not belong to our group.

"You will give a speech in Diagon Alley next weekend, my friend," Lucius said as he stood up. "You will recite this list to the people, but with a voice full of energy and optimism. You will promise them a bright future, because that's the one we will build for them. Meanwhile, I myself will fund your campaign, and I will grant your brilliant mind all the resources it might need. Allow me to make you a great man, and allow Dolores to destroy your competition."

And it was then, as Fudge's eyes showed a glint he knew very well, that of unmeasured ambition, that Lucius understood he had won.

England would have a King once more, although one in all but in tittle, and its name would be Malfoy.

---

Minister for Education; those were the only words Hermione could think about.

Her brain repeated them again and again, in a trance; one full of madness, no doubt. Her eyes were still set on the Daily Prophet, the round face of a hateful woman, eyes full of mirth and pride, staring back at her. Umbridge had been labelled as a hero, whereas Dumbledore and Hagrid were the villains of the story. Pansy's incident had been depicted in great detail in the newspaper; although her name remained a mystery. More so, it had been greatly exaggerated—a tale of horror and violence which had nothing to do with what really happened.

And the worst of it was that no one seemed to care.

Every part of the Great Hall she looked at, the students laughed and chatted as per usual; as if this was just another morning. There were a few exceptions, of course, but those, she could count them with the fingers of one hand. Only the Professors seemed to share her worry, who all sat in silence, a solemn look on their faces. Not even in Dumbledore's face was any trace of the warm smiles he used to give the students every morning.

"This new position will grant her almost as much power as the Headmaster," Neville muttered by her side, his breakfast long forgotten. "Or so it says here, at least."

"They really rushed the whole process, eh?" Hermione said sourly. She did not feel like eating anymore. "It takes them ages to agree on any measure, but here, they all worked together and left their disputes aside. Oh, how convenient!"

"The Wizengamot takes very seriously any problem which has to do with Hogwarts," Neville sighed as he closed the newspaper. "Since it is the greatest pride of this country, you see. Grandma always complains about them. I can almost imagine the many curses she's probably let out this morning…"

Hermione frowned yet more, and she managed to pull her eyes from the newspaper. They fell on Harry instead, who was sitting in silence right in front of her. He was the only one out of them three to have eaten the full breakfast. His behaviour worried Hermione. He'd been so furious for so many days, but then the incident happened and Harry became a shell of his usual self. However, there was a cold glint in his eyes whenever he stared into space.

"What do you think, Harry?" Hermione asked then, trying to get a word out of him.

The boy put on a thoughtful look, "If they all are like Umbridge and Fudge, then there's no surprise in that." He then ended what was left of his cup of hot chocolate in one long gulp. "There's not much to think about, also. It has already happened, and there's no turning back. I would rather wait and see what she does next. Will she go after Lupin, as we have presumed? Will she go after Dumbledore himself? Or will she wait until he's run out of support?"

Those words hang in the air for a while, for no one knew how to answer his questions.

"You've changed," Neville pointed out. "What happened?"

Hermione took a relieved breath—her friend had brought up a topic she did not know how to approach.

"Nothing changed, really," Harry said with a sigh. "But I realised that being furious with the world won't change a damn thing. As you know very well, I met with Umbridge yesterday. She taunted me many times in a very subtle way, but I managed to refrain my temper, much to my surprise. Since the year started, she's wanted me close, but now she wants me closer, it seems. More information about Dumbledore, that's what she asked of me. To know about his secrets and plans for the future. Lupin's name was not even mentioned, though."

Really? That's quite interesting. Even so, it was a matter of when rather than one of who.

"Have any of you two talked with Ron and Tracey?" Neville asked. "We could use their help, now that the matter has escalated so much."

"I have not," Hermione replied.

"Me neither," Harry said. "But, to be honest, I don't think it will make a change. You've all heard Ron's opinion as many times as I did. To him, Umbridge is of no importance. Also, he doesn't look too bothered by the fact Hagrid had been tossed away like a broken quill by Umbridge…"

"Harry!" Hermione cut in sharply. "Do not say that! Of course Ron is outraged by what happened to Hagrid! He just doesn't show it as much as we do, that's all!"

Harry could only ruffle his hair in exasperation, "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I shouldn't have said that, but it's just that… I don't know, don't you guys feel as if Ron had changed so much in so little time? Obviously, he's still the same person I met and the first I befriended in the Wizarding World. However, he's much more serious now. It almost feels as if a part of him has been buried deep inside…"

"The Chamber of Secrets happened…" Neville muttered.

Hermione almost leaped out of her seat then, but she regained her composure just in time to look around. No one was paying them any attention, it seemed. "Do you guys think he still feels at fault?" she mused finally. Her eyes jumped all across the other end of the Great Hall, to the Slytherin table. There, Ron and Tracey sat together, as per usual. And it was the brunette who talked and talked, and it was the redhead who listened and nodded in silence, his eyes set on the Professor's table with a thoughtful look, unaware of Tracey's monologue.

He had definitely changed a lot.

"Of course he still feels guilty," Neville said. "Not only did he attack three students under the Heir's control, but two of those were some of his best friends. It does not matter the fact you two pardoned him long ago, or even if you did not come to feel any resentment towards him… To him, all that matters is that he became the executing hand, and you two, his victims. At least, that's how I would feel."

"It wasn't the Heir of Slytherin, mate," Harry cut in, a storming look on his face yet again. "His real name is Lord Voldemort. You'd do good accepting it…"

And just like that did the conversation die, for Harry went back to a silent shell whereas Neville paled a bit, taken aback by such fierce fire within those words.

The day, however, was far from the end, as the many events which took place on such a cold Friday proved later on. As they came back from Potions, their last lecture of the day, a huge turmoil broke out next to the hallway which led to Godric's Courtyard. And the loudest of them all, of course, were none others than Fred and George Weasley.

"The hell are you talking about, Flint?" one of them shouted atop of his lungs.

"Have you gone mad?" the other twin followed. "Perhaps you snored so loud in your last nap that your brain finally shut off to not hear such horrible sounds. Yeah, that must be it!"

More and more voices joined the commotion, and soon enough Hermione found herself trying to fight her way through them. Harry led them through the crowd with ease, his agile body moving through all the little spaces he found on his way. Hermione and Neville, however, were elbowed on the ribs several times, just as they were sent countless glares with a murderous intent.

"You two, shut the hell up!" Flint roared atop all other sources of noise, his voice deep and powerful like a thunder. "I said that she committed an infraction, and that's what happened!"

Finally, they reached the epicentre of the turmoil, and the sight they found there left them speechless.

Marcus Flint stood taller and prouder than everyone else, a shining badge on his chest—that of an open book with two wands on its sides. Then came the Weasley twins, who despite their way thinner size, had no trouble to stand up to the Slytherin. And amidst them stood Lavender Brown, eyes red and puffy and shaking uncontrollably in Angelina Johnson's arms.

"The hell…?" Harry muttered. He looked ready to jump into the frail, but Hermione managed to grab his arm just in time. Her worry was rewarded with a cold glare by her dear friend, of course, but she just ignored it with ease.

"An infraction?" Angelina asked back, confused and angry in equal measure. "You are no bloody Prefect, Flint! And even if you were, there was nothing she did worthy of a punishment!"

"On that, you are right," Flint gave them a shady smile as his finger tapped against the badge on his chest. "I'm no Prefect. I'm above them all… If not, go and ask the Minister for Education herself. I'm sure she'll be rather happy to talk about her newly founded Disciplinary Party."

"Disciplywhat Party?" Fred huffed as he shared a bewildered look with his twin. "He's lost it for good, my dear brother. A bludger on the head, I suppose."

Flint's face turned red in the blink of an eye as he took a step forward, "You'll regret that, Weasley!"

However, out of nowhere came a helping hand which grabbed the large student by his robes. "Do not be a fool, Marcus." It belonged to a short girl of round face, who was also dressed in silver and green. Her hair was short and dark, cut around the nape and with bangs which fell over her forehead, while her voice was soft and faint, though it came with a touch of firmness that even made a boy like Flint hesitate. "Punish the girl as you have been told, but do not create unnecessary trouble."

Flint just shook her hand away, "Your opinion doesn't matter here, Tossard. Unless you've changed your opinion about our Party, of course…"

"Just do as I say, please," the girl sighed as she turned around. "I have always tried to give you good advice, Marcus, and I still do." This being said, she just left as silently as she had appeared.

And Flint was the first one to react when most remained lost, though a tad calmer. "Now, as I was saying…" He turned around, towards Lavender, and it was a cruel smirk that appeared on his face. "Under the new laws the Minister for Education promulgated, you need to be punished…"

Laws? What laws is he talking about? And it was then, as she doubted, when Harry finally freed himself from Hermione's grasp. The boy jumped right into the turmoil's epicentre, wand ready at hand, and the Weasley twins were quick to follow, wide grins on their faces. Oh, no! By her side, Neville shared her horror.

"Look at that!" George whistled. "You always arrive at the perfect time, dear Harry!"

"The tables have turned around, it seems!" Fred followed. "Why don't we give these snakes the appetiser of the Quidditch game?"

Flint followed after them, and so did his pals, all students from seventh-year. The atmosphere around the crowd now had become tense and silent, as if a mere whisper could give them the signal to start throwing curses at will.

But it was a voice from the outside which startled them all. A voice of reason. "What in the world are you all doing!?" Percy Weasley huffed as he too fought his way through the crowd. "Step aside, damn you all!" Countless pairs of eyes were set on the tall redhead once he made it, whose forehead was beaded in sweat. "And well? Does anyone here care to elaborate?"

"Flint's lost it!" the twins said at the same time.

"He's threatening Lavender!" Harry exclaimed, wand still pointed at the Slytherins.

"She broke one of the School's new rules, so she needs to be punished," Flint barked.

Percy was able to take in all those words with ease, much to Hermione's surprise. "I see," the Prefect said. "First of all, lower your wands. All!" His request was accepted by all; some did it instantly, but others were a bit hesitant, as if they couldn't believe what they were about to do. "Thank you. Now, back to the matter at hand…" Percy turned around, in search of Lavender, who still hid behind Angelina. "Flint is right, Brown. You broke one of the new rules, and so, you need to be given detention… Upon my duty and authority as a Prefect, you will serve detention with me, and I will take five points from Gryffindor!"

The twins just lost it, then. "What the hell, Percy!" Fred spluttered, to which George nodded in agreement, out of words.

The rest of the lions were about to join the protest, but it was Flint the one to take those news in a worse way. "No, you won't!" he roared, silencing every other shout of outrage. "It was me who heard her blaspheming against the Minister for Education. Me, the leader of the Disciplinary Party! Not you, Weasley, a bloody Prefect who believes himself to be a Professor!"

"Perhaps," Percy nodded, serious features still on his face, "but it was me the one to give her detention first. And according to all the new rules, those which I read thrice before breakfast, none had a say about this particular and old one—a student cannot be given more than one detention for a single case, unless the decision is taken by a Professor. So, I'm afraid she's coming with me…"

Lavender only needed a single look from Percy to run towards him. "Now, I believe it's time for everyone to walk away and mind their business. The show is over."

And that they did. All but Flint and his group, who stood rooted to their spots, furious and embarrassed.

"You'll pay for this, Weasley," Flint growled. "Sooner or later, you'll pay for this. I will find a way to fuck you up…" It was then when he walked away, followed closely by his group.

A deep silence was quick to envelop the remaining students; each one lost deep in their thoughts. But it was Harry who put an end to it. "What the hell just happened here?"

All the eyes were set on Lavender then, "I-I… I complained aloud about Umbridge, with not so kind words. I thought we were alone, but then, Flint came out of nowhere, surrounded by his friends… He pointed at the badge on his chest, and threatened me for the first time. I, obviously, didn't believe him, and he took that rather bad. The rest, well…"

"We heard the shouts, so we came as fast as we could," Angelina sighed. "It was an ugly sight that we found… This poor girl, surrounded by a bunch of bullies, with Marcus bloody Flint at the head of them. She was all tears by the time we arrived."

"We jumped into the turmoil as soon as we took notice of it, of course," George added. "But it seems that it attracted far too much crowd."

"Well, I can't blame them," Fred grinned. "I bet they all wanted to see how we were about to make Flint lick our boots clean."

"I'm afraid it would have been the other way around," Percy said with a sigh, to which the twins turned all sour in the blink of an eye. "Your friend, Parvati, was quick to find me, Brown. She described the situation in chapter and verse, and that allowed me to have an idea about what was going on here…"

"Which was?" Hermione cut in.

"Tonight, many new rules were passed by Umbridge, by the rights her new position grants her," Percy explained. "One of those is none other but to punish the lack of respect towards the adult figures of this School; laying emphasis on hers, of course. Also, she has created a new unit of students with the sole purpose of creating order and peace in Hogwarts, and their word is above that of the Prefects and the Head-Boy and Girl—the Disciplinary Party. In short, she's bought a bunch of students so they do the dirty work for her. What you've just witnessed is just the beginning, so, a piece of advice if you don't mind: try to stick together and watch each other's backs…"

Percy took off his glasses to clean them with a little cloth he pulled from his pockets, "Of course, you will still serve detention with me, Brown. We need to play by the rules, after all…"

The girl was quick to nod, and even faster to follow the Prefect as he walked away.

However, the twins had one last thing to say, "That was very cool, Percy!" Fred exclaimed, as serious as he'd ever been. "Proper of a true Gryffindor," George added with an approving nod. "Who would've thought that our brother had such tough balls?" They shared a look, then broke out in laughter as they walked in the opposite direction. "Not me, that's for sure!"

Hermione swore she saw a smile on Percy's face, but she didn't have much time to think about it.

"My head hurts," Neville mused. And those were words which could have come out from her mouth. "Why can't we have a single year in peace, damn it! What a bloody mess!" Those too, she reckoned.

Harry, however, was the one who remained calm and collected. "Umbridge will not stop until she has every single student worshipping the floor she walks over. And it will be as she desires, unless we manage to stop her. Remember what we talked about yesterday, Hermione—come up with a plan to stop her, and I will do the rest. You will have as much time as you need, that's a promise. And I believe I won't be alone in this venture. Gryffindor will not stand aside as she tries to make the castle her playground."

Neville gave a faint nod to those words, but Hermione could only bite her lip in anxiousness. That's too much faith that he's placed on my shoulders… I don't wanna let him down, but I don't know if I can come up with a way to dethrone Umbridge now that she holds so much power. But then she thought of the many abuses she had read about during her three first years in the Wizarding World—about the Werewolves, the Vampires and the house-elves, but also against muggle-borns and those who were not as rich as the Pureblood Elite.

Umbridge was part of that problem, and her fall would show the world that, perhaps, equality could be accomplished when both mind and heart were set to fight for a fairer world.