CHAPTER 21 – FROM POWER TO DEFEAT
"Apolline," Jean-Sebastian declared, his tone firm as he leaned in to plant a tender kiss on her cheek, though her stern countenance remained untouched by warmth. The atmosphere in the room was thick with the tension that had lingered since the previous day.
With a determined gaze, Apolline seized the opportunity to voice her concerns, her displeasure evident in her every word. "Jean-Sebastian, ensure that you inform the Headmaster that I will not stand for that... that woman to mistreat our children any longer!"
Suppressing a wry chuckle, Jean-Sebastian offered another affectionate kiss, his lips brushing against hers. "Fear not, my love. Dumbledore has a point—Umbridge is foolish enough to weave her own downfall. We just need to provide her with enough rope."
Apolline, however, remained unswayed, standing tall with hands on hips. "I disapprove of Dumbledore's plan. Harry shouldn't be used as bait, especially after what his relatives put him through. At the slightest hint of trouble, extract him from under that woman's influence!"
"Of course, dear," Jean-Sebastian dutifully reiterated. He then bent down to place a tender kiss on his youngest daughter's forehead. Though she might not comprehend the intricacies of the situation, the disapproval mirrored in her expression mirrored her mother's sentiments. Jean-Sebastian couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the sight.
To evade further admonishment, Jean-Sebastian made a swift exit from the sitting room. Apolline was engrossed in checking Gabrielle's schoolwork, a task that provided her with a semblance of distraction.
Navigating through the manor, Jean-Sebastian made his way to his study, where the fireplace awaited. The green flames of the Floo Network beckoned, signaling his imminent departure to Hogwarts. The looming uncertainties and his commitment to Dumbledore's plan weighed heavily on his mind as he stepped into the magical fire, disappearing from the manor with a swirl of emerald flames.
Apolline's discontent had been more than evident the previous evening when Jean-Sebastian returned to the manor, recounting the harrowing tale of what had transpired with Harry. To describe her mood as merely displeased would be an understatement. Unbeknownst to Umbridge and Fudge, they had unwittingly earned the enmity of a witch whose resentments were as relentless as her strong will. Apolline, having endured a lifetime of being labeled a "creature" or a "Veela hussy," harbored a remarkably low tolerance for any form of bigotry.
Her protective instincts had swiftly extended to Harry during his brief stay with them before departing for Hogwarts. Now, Apolline guarded him with the same fervor she did her own daughters. The continuous reports of the detested woman's behavior had only fueled the simmering anger, which was now ready to erupt.
Entering his study, Jean-Sebastian steeled himself before stepping through the Floo and materializing in the Headmaster's office. The exchange of pleasantries between the two men served as a brief distraction until the scheduled time for Harry to appear in Umbridge's classroom. Dumbledore produced a small stone, waved his wand, and together, they patiently awaited Harry's entrance into the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. A faint knocking echoed through the enchanted stone, prompting Umbridge to grant permission for Harry to enter. The stage was set, and the game was about to commence.
As the conversation unfolded between Harry and Umbridge, Jean-Sebastian settled in to observe, a silent participant in the unfolding drama. The pride he felt at Harry's unyielding response to Umbridge's words, the fearless way he provoked her, echoed the sentiments of a father for his son. Harry was undeniably an extraordinary young man, and Jean-Sebastian gladly embraced the role of a surrogate father in his life. The battlefield was marked, and Jean-Sebastian stood ready to support Harry in the face of the challenges that lay ahead.
"Lines?" Jean-Sebastian furrowed his brow in puzzlement at the seemingly innocuous punishment suggested by the woman. It was, in his estimation, a trivial consequence that posed no real threat.
"Wait, Jean-Sebastian—be patient," Dumbledore's caution interrupted, injecting an air of mystery into the unfolding confrontation. Jean-Sebastian shot a sidelong glance at the Headmaster, his curiosity piqued. Did Dumbledore possess some knowledge that he was choosing to withhold? However, Dumbledore remained focused on the ongoing conversation emanating from the Defense classroom.
As Harry's retort about writing lines with his finger reached their ears, Jean-Sebastian felt an uneasy sensation settling in the pit of his stomach. "Surely she cannot mean to…" He trailed off, a growing sense of anger building within him as Harry's voice raised in protest. At that moment, everything became painfully clear.
"Une plume de sang!" Jean-Sebastian snarled, shooting a glare at Dumbledore. "A blood quill! Has she gone far enough for you now, Headmaster?"
A self-satisfied smile adorned Dumbledore's face. "Indeed, I believe this will be enough to damn her completely, Ambassador. Shall we go and rescue your ward?"
Though suspicion continued to bloom in Jean-Sebastian's mind, he acknowledged that now was not the time for this conversation. He merely nodded curtly before following the Headmaster out of his office. The urgent need to intervene on Harry's behalf overrode any lingering doubts, and together they embarked on the mission to rescue the young wizard from the clutches of Umbridge's cruel tactics.
In a matter of moments, Jean-Sebastian and Dumbledore reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Seizing the initiative, Jean-Sebastian took the lead, wrenching the door open without hesitation. The door crashed against the wall as he advanced toward Harry and the despised Umbridge.
"Harry, you will stop writing immediately!" he spat, fixing a seething glare on Umbridge.
Startled, Umbridge quickly regained her composure. "Ambassador. Headmaster. What are you doing in my classroom?"
"Witnessing you as you make a very big mistake, Madam," Jean-Sebastian snarled.
The woman, seemingly unfazed, simpered, "Whatever do you mean, Ambassador? I am merely disciplining this miscreant for his actions and words in my classroom. I assure you, it has nothing to do with you, nor does it warrant your interference. You will both leave this room now, or you will lose your position, Headmaster, and you, Ambassador, will be removed from your post."
Undeterred, Jean-Sebastian approached Harry, extending his hand and swiftly snapping the blood quill upon retrieval. Umbridge's nostrils flared, and she leaped up from her desk, wand at the ready. The tension in the room escalated, the air thick with the anticipation of a confrontation long overdue.
"How dare you, Ambassador!" Umbridge screamed, her face contorted with rage. "That was my own personal property that you just destroyed. I will see you arrested for this!"
"Harry," the Headmaster intervened, his voice calm but commanding. "Please leave the room and return to your common room. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I hereby declare that your point deduction this evening is reversed, and all your detentions with Madam Umbridge are canceled."
"Yes, Headmaster," Harry responded, standing and collecting his bag. Jean-Sebastian couldn't help but be amused by the smirk Harry directed at Umbridge before sauntering from the room, whistling a jaunty tune.
Umbridge's smirk, however, was nothing short of feral. "You have just made your final mistake, you old dotard. I will be speaking with the Minister at first light, and I assure you that your tenure here at Hogwarts will end soon after."
"Oh, I believe that you are quite mistaken, Madam," Dumbledore retorted. His expression was unwavering, devoid of the usual grandfatherly demeanor. Before them stood the man who had defeated Grindelwald and led the forces of light against Voldemort. Jean-Sebastian silently acknowledged that the Headmaster was more than a little intimidating in that moment.
"Forcing a student to write lines with a blood quill, Madam? It is a little severe, even for you. Is it not?" Dumbledore's words, dripping with condemnation, hung heavily in the air, challenging Umbridge to defend the indefensible. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the consequences of her actions loomed ominously.
"I may discipline the students in any manner that I feel necessary, Headmaster. I am the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, and you have no say in the matter."
"You foolish woman!" Jean-Sebastian growled. "I am not even a citizen of this country, and I know that a blood quill is a class three restricted item. The mere possession of one by anyone other than the goblins or a solicitor merits a fine, let alone forcing a student to write lines with one."
"I have permission from the Minister himself," Umbridge said, waving off their objections.
"The Minister is irrelevant," Dumbledore snapped. "The law is the law, and no one is above it. I believe you do not realize the severity of the situation, Madam. You have not only brought such an item into a school, but you have also forced a student to write lines with it. Do you not realize that almost every member of the Wizengamot has some relative attending this school? What do you think their reactions will be when they hear that you may be using it on members of their families?"
Umbridge dismissed their concerns with an air of indifference. "I am sure that the right families, with students who obey the rules, know that their children would never be subjected to such harsh penalties. Only the true troublemakers who are attempting to ruin this institution merit such punishment, for it is the only way to correct their misbehavior."
"You are delusional if you believe that the Wizengamot will do anything but condemn you for this, regardless of which students are being punished."
"Regardless, it does not matter," insisted Umbridge. "I may punish those who break the rules in whatever manner I deem fit. You have no authority to stop me." The audacity in her tone hung heavily in the room, a challenge to the very foundations of authority within Hogwarts.
Dumbledore stood with an unwavering posture, a towering figure that seemed to exude authority. As he stepped forward, Umbridge instinctively shrank back in sudden fear. "I have all the authority I require, as Hogwarts herself considers me to be the Headmaster of this school. And this does not even mention my mandate as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot." His voice, icy and low, caused the color to drain from the woman's features. "The use of a blood quill is not punishment or discipline—it is torture. I will not allow it to continue. You will hand over whatever remaining blood quills you have in your possession immediately!"
"I certainly will not—"
"Yes, you will!" Dumbledore barked. "By the authority of the Wizengamot, I demand that you hand those vile instruments over this instant! If you do not, I will take them from you, and by Merlin, I will then see you to the gates of Azkaban myself. Do not try my patience further, Madam!"
Umbridge stumbled back once again, rendered speechless. She reluctantly opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a box, handing it to Dumbledore with trembling hands. As Dumbledore opened the box, Jean-Sebastian peered inside, noting the disturbing fact that it contained well over two dozen of the blood quills. Dumbledore closed it once again, scowling at the woman.
"It appears that Harry was not your only target, was he?" he snapped. The gravity of Umbridge's actions weighed heavily in the air, the revelation amplifying the severity of her transgressions.
Umbridge, despite the impending storm, drew herself up defiantly, her stature attempting to match her audacity. "The Minister will hear of this, Headmaster."
"I assure you that he will," Dumbledore responded, unwavering. "As will the Wizengamot, the Prophet, and anyone else that I can think of. I suggest you pack your bags, Madam, as your stay in this school will likely be of short duration."
The woman's sneer returned in all its glory. "You have no authority to remove me, Headmaster. I am here by the appointment of the Minister himself."
"We shall see how long that lasts, Madam."
Jean-Sebastian cast a surprised glance at the Headmaster. He had anticipated the woman's removal that evening and couldn't fathom why Dumbledore would delay. She posed a clear danger to all the students, especially those whom Jean-Sebastian held most dear.
A quelling look from Dumbledore met his unspoken query, prompting Jean-Sebastian to let the matter rest for the time being. Clearly, Dumbledore had a plan, and Jean-Sebastian stepped back, allowing the Headmaster to orchestrate events. After all, it was his school. Yet, a grim determination lingered in Jean-Sebastian's thoughts—a reckoning would come, and he intended to hold everyone accountable for the safety of the students.
"Your right to assign detentions is hereby revoked," Dumbledore declared, his voice firm. "Do not even try to do so, as I will know and I will throw you from the school myself should you attempt it."
Umbridge's eyes narrowed, and her mouth opened, but Dumbledore didn't allow her to speak. "And also be aware that any points you assign or deduct will be reviewed as long as you are still at this school. I would suggest you avoid using the points system at all."
"I will be instructing Fleur, Harry, and all of their friends that they are not to attend your class in the future," Jean-Sebastian snarled. "You will never teach any child for whom I am responsible again—that I assure you. And if you so much as look at them in the wrong manner, I will have the Aurors here to drag you off to a prison cell where you belong."
"I would like to see you try, Ambassador," Umbridge retorted sharply.
"Leave it, Dolores," Dumbledore intervened. "You may not realize it, though how you could not is beyond me, but you have already lost. I will have you removed from this school as soon as may be, and you will not be returning."
Turning his back on her, Dumbledore strode out of the room, while Jean-Sebastian, with one final glare, followed suit.
"Please explain to me why she is not leaving this school at this very moment, Headmaster," Jean-Sebastian demanded as they walked back toward the Headmaster's office.
"Of course, Jean-Sebastian, but please let us talk in my office." The gravity of the situation hung heavy as they retreated into the sanctuary of Dumbledore's office, leaving the echoes of their confrontation with Umbridge behind.
Though Jean-Sebastian might have preferred to demand an answer immediately, he chose to incline his head in a show of restrained patience. As they walked through the hallways of Hogwarts, he couldn't quell the simmering anger within him. The protective instinct he held toward his children, not always as overtly displayed as his wife's but undeniably present, demanded appeasement.
In the office, Dumbledore promptly took his seat behind the desk, steepling his fingertips. Jean-Sebastian couldn't shake the feeling of being a mischievous student about to be scolded, an emotion he found irksome. Scowling, he attempted to cut through the air of formality.
"Headmaster, would you like to explain why that woman is not on her way to a Ministry holding cell?"
"Because, Jean-Sebastian, our position is much stronger if she is removed by Minister Fudge himself. You and I will fan the flames of what is certain to be a scandal for the Minister, ensuring that he has no choice but to do so."
Jean-Sebastian frowned at the Headmaster. "So this has become a political game?"
"It has been a political game ever since the Minister decided to involve himself in the workings of this school, Ambassador. I must have full rein again to hire a Defense Professor who is qualified and, more importantly, one who is not controlled by the Minister. To do that, my position must be as strong as possible—hence my desire to force the Minister to sack Umbridge himself. It also carries the added benefit of removing her from her post as Senior Undersecretary." The Headmaster's explanation, though strategic, did little to assuage Jean-Sebastian's immediate concerns.
"You have a candidate in mind?" Jean-Sebastian inquired, his curiosity piqued by Dumbledore's cryptic statements.
"I do," Dumbledore confirmed. "However, my choice will not be available until the new year. I will have to come up with other arrangements until then, and having Fudge completely preoccupied with damage control will give me the space I will need to do so."
It made logical sense, Jean-Sebastian had to admit, even if the more primal part of him yearned for immediate action. Umbridge was a societal blight, regardless of her competence or lack thereof, and her swift removal from both the government and Hogwarts was a highly desirable outcome. Yet, his children were now shielded from her classes, her blood quills confiscated, and her influence curtailed. If she dared to instigate any trouble within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts against his children, the process of incarcerating her in Azkaban would be expedited.
"I suppose you are correct, Headmaster," Jean-Sebastian reluctantly admitted. "But if she tries anything with my children, I can promise you I will not be held accountable for my actions."
"Leave the protection of the children to me—I assure you that I will not allow anything to happen to them. I need you to play your part as Harry's guardian and as the Ambassador to England, not be involved with vengeful attacks against the Undersecretary." Dumbledore's request carried a weight of responsibility, emphasizing the need for Jean-Sebastian to focus on his roles and allow the Headmaster to handle the intricacies of safeguarding the students.
Jean-Sebastian nodded tightly before shifting to the other topic that had bothered him as they listened to Harry and Umbridge. "I was wondering about something else—you did not seem to be surprised that the Undersecretary possessed blood quills. Would you care to elaborate on that?"
Smiling, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "It is amazing what one can glean with a little passive Legilimency and an unguarded mind."
"You did know." Jean-Sebastian's tone was unyielding, his offense palpable at Dumbledore essentially using Harry as bait, despite Harry willingly placing himself in the line of fire.
"Not that she had blood quills specifically," Dumbledore clarified. "Her mind is remarkably open—she has no skill in Occlumency whatsoever. But even so, as you are well aware, passive Legilimency only gives an indication of surface thoughts, and active Legilimency is illegal, except under certain circumstances. I was able to discern that she wanted to make an example of Harry and try to cow him into holding his tongue about Voldemort. What exactly she meant to do I was not certain, but I did know it involved something I would not find acceptable. Unfortunately, the woman truly believes that she can get away with anything as long as she has the Minister's backing, so I could not be certain exactly how far she meant to go."
"And what about her presence at this school? She has been enacting decrees to curb the freedom of the students, from what I understand."
"All part of her plan to take over the school. You may not have heard, but the Minister made a decree yesterday making her the 'High Inquisitor' of Hogwarts, giving her all sorts of powers to review professors' performances, change curriculum, among other things. It was all part of their plan to eventually take over the school and force my removal." Dumbledore's explanation unveiled a sinister plot aimed at undermining the autonomy of Hogwarts itself.
"And now?" Jean-Sebastian asked, contemplating the swift action that would have been necessary if Umbridge had gained control over the school, potentially separating Harry and Fleur from the premises immediately.
"Now, I go back to the Wizengamot to inform them of her actions, while you go through your diplomatic channels to make an issue of her treatment of your ward. We shall also take the story to the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and every other public forum that we can manage. By the weekend, the furor over this scandal will be so intense that Fudge will have no choice but to sack her."
"And perhaps take Fudge down in the process."
Dumbledore stroked his beard for a moment before shaking his head. "Although a desirable outcome, I suspect the Minister will be able to wriggle his way out of this. He is far too politically savvy to allow himself to be snared in this scandal. At the very least, however, it will tarnish his image and weaken his position."
Grimacing, Jean-Sebastian rose and shook the Headmaster's hand. "Unfortunately, I suspect you are correct." He stepped toward the Floo, pausing to look back at Dumbledore. "I shall not wait until the morning to move on this." Determined and resolute, Jean-Sebastian was ready to take immediate action to protect his ward and ensure justice for the heinous acts committed by Umbridge.
"Excellent. She has finally given us a reason to remove her, Jean-Sebastian—let us make the most of it."
Nodding, Jean-Sebastian entered the Floo, anticipating another likely tongue-lashing from Apolline.
In the Gryffindor common room, Harry basked in the attention of his housemates as he regaled them with the story of the detention and the Headmaster's intervention. Although normally not fond of the spotlight, Harry relished the attention this time. Not only did it provide him with an opportunity to expose Umbridge's incompetence, but every student who had endured her classes deserved to revel in her defeat. Revenge, it seemed, was indeed sweet.
Fleur, however, was unimpressed with the news of the punishment attempted by Umbridge. "That woman made you use une plume de sang?" she exclaimed as Harry approached the point where he had begun to write with the quill.
At Harry's blank look, Fleur sighed with exasperation and explained, "A plume de sang… A blood quill is a quill that magically writes using your blood instead of ink. The magic causes it to literally carve the written strokes into your hand—it can be quite painful if done many times in a row. Solicitors use them to sign legal documents, as do the goblins."
Showing her the pink outline on his hand, Harry remarked, "Like this?" The camaraderie in the common room swelled as his friends united against the injustice they had collectively faced.
An outraged cry escaped Fleur's throat as she grasped Harry's hand and inspected it. "How many times did she make you write these lines?" she all but growled.
"I must have written them about twenty times or so," Harry said after thinking a moment.
"That… that… stupid…" Incensed, Fleur broke into a long diatribe in French, and if Harry were to guess, it sounded like her language was not fit for polite society. After a few moments, she had calmed down enough to revert back to English. "How dare she think she can get away with this!"
"It's all right, Fleur," soothed Harry. "I'm already away from her."
Fleur favored him with a glare, but Harry could tell that she was not angry with him. It was George who spoke up to explain.
"Harry, I don't think you completely understand Fleur's outrage."
"Prolonged use of a blood quill over a short period of time can result in weakness and fatigue," Fred continued. "It is sapping your blood, after all."
Harry gazed back at them with some surprise. "They are that dangerous?"
"They can be," Fleur affirmed. "They tap a certain amount of your blood when you use them, and if you use it enough, the blood loss can affect you. Add to that the fact that if you wrote the same line often enough, you would eventually cut it into your skin. Without a healer or Essence of Dittany handy, you would have a scar for the rest of your life." The revelation of the potential harm caused by the blood quill deepened the gravity of Umbridge's actions, stirring further indignation among Harry's friends.
"That I already knew," said Harry with a snort while rubbing his hand. "I could already see the beginnings of the outline forming when your father walked in."
"I guess he wasn't happy," said Fleur somewhat slyly.
"Ripped her a new one," said Harry with a certain measure of smugness.
Fleur, however, was confused. "Ripped her a new what?"
Muffled laughter and snorts were heard all around the room. Fleur glared at those who could not keep their countenances, while Harry hastened to explain.
"It means that he…"
"Berated her," Hermione supplied helpfully.
"What she said," Harry declared, pointing a thumb at Hermione.
"Good," said Fleur. "I think we'll be rid of the stupid woman in no time. Even your Minister will not be able to ignore this for long."
"I'd imagine that's what Dumbledore and your dad are talking about right now."
At that moment, the portrait hole opened, and Professor McGonagall walked into the Gryffindor common room. She stood surveying the suddenly quiet room until her eyes lit upon Harry. She shook her head, presumably at the obvious fact that he was sharing exactly what had happened with Umbridge that evening with everyone. She approached Harry, and after greeting the members of her house, made her intentions known without preamble.
"I understand your detention with Professor Umbridge tonight resulted in some rather… unorthodox punishment."
Harry agreed, and she continued. "When I heard, I thought I would come and survey the damage myself. May I?"
Wordlessly, Harry raised his hand to show the professor the marks left by Umbridge's quills, prompting a tsking sound from the Transfiguration Professor.
"The stupid woman," McGonagall grumbled. "I cannot imagine how she could possibly have thought that she'd have gotten away with this outrage."
"I think that rational thought isn't exactly her forte, Professor," said Harry dryly.
A brief smile met his declaration, before McGonagall was all business once again.
"Your guardian has declared that you shall not attend another of Umbridge's classes," she told them. "However, I believe we should make this incident a pointed reminder to Madam Umbridge," no one missed her refusal to refer to the woman as a professor, "that the assault of one of our Gryffindors shall not be tolerated. I believe, therefore, that we should show our support by ensuring that none of you attend her classes." The solidarity among the Gryffindor students strengthened as Professor McGonagall voiced her stance against Umbridge's actions.
The approbation was unanimous, as cheers and whistles echoed throughout Gryffindor tower. The house of the lion all seemed to understand that a good push may have the hated professor removed from the school, and considering that attending her classes was a colossal waste of time, missing them was no sacrifice.
"Very well then. We shall see the Madam's face tomorrow when no one from Gryffindor house's fourth year attends her class in the morning."
"I think we can come up with a special surprise for her too," said one of the twins with an evil smirk.
"A rousing send-off will be just the thing for morale," agreed his partner in crime, his expression mirroring his twin's.
McGonagall regarded the two pranksters with some amusement before her expression turned stern. "Officially, I cannot sanction such behavior. Unofficially, I never heard you discussing your plans. Don't get caught."
With that, she turned and exited the tower, leaving a common room full of surprised students. McGonagall had always projected the image of a straitlaced and strict taskmistress—she must truly despise Umbridge, a sentiment well understood by her house members. Soon, the expressions of surprise turned to smirks. Life at Hogwarts was about to become very uncomfortable for one Dolores Jane Umbridge.
Dumbledore and Jean-Sebastian were indeed as good as their word when it came to exposing Dolores Umbridge's deeds at Hogwarts. Immediately after his meeting with the Ambassador concluded, Dumbledore Flooed to the offices of the Daily Prophet and demanded to see the publishing editor of the paper. The man's displeasure from being pulled from an evening of relaxation at his home quickly gave way to astonishment and glee at the story that had fallen out of the sky into his lap. The fact that Umbridge herself was almost universally hated due to her strong-arm tactics and tendency to throw the Minister's name around in order to get her way only served to sweeten the revenge to be exacted.
Springing into action, the editor quickly summoned several staff reporters with an eye toward breaking the initial story in the early edition of the next morning's paper. As was its wont, the headlines were sensational and provoked the desired reaction, proclaiming "Hogwarts Professor Disciplines with Blood Quill!" and "Boy-Who-Lived Forced to Write Lines in Own Blood!"
The very next day, several more Daily Prophet reporters were seen poking around Hogsmeade, and though there was no one in the village who had any knowledge of the incident, the residents were not unwilling to speak of other matters, such as the behavior of Harry and his friends during Hogsmeade weekends, not to mention the few times the Defense Professor herself had appeared in the village. Of particular note was the brief incident at the Three Broomsticks between Harry and Malfoy, provided without hesitation by Madam Rosmerta. Needless to say, the perception of Harry and his temperament only improved, while Malfoy was portrayed as a bigoted bully. And if, during the course of that day, Harry and his friends had coincidentally been found walking near the edge of Hogwarts grounds and had been induced to make a brief statement—ironically during the time that afternoon when he and his fifth-year friends should have been in Umbridge's Defense class—the matter was completely beyond the knowledge of his professors. As long as the reporters were not violating Hogwarts' grounds, Harry was a citizen as well as a student, and his ability to speak for himself was not in question.
Upon the article's first appearance in the wizarding paper the following morning, Dumbledore again went into action. Using his powers as Chief Warlock, he quickly called an emergency session of the Wizengamot, with the intent of discussing Umbridge's actions at Hogwarts. His estimation of the members' reactions was not far from the mark, as many Wizengamot members did indeed have younger family members attending Hogwarts, and Umbridge's hasty statement that she would never use a blood quill on members of the "right families" was received in a remarkably dim light by almost all who were not extreme bigots.
It was the work of mere moments to have the members of the wizarding body support and pass a motion condemning her actions. In particular, Madam Bones and Madam Longbottom, both of whom had young wards attending Hogwarts in Harry's year and both possessed strong, no-nonsense personalities, became Dumbledore's staunchest allies in his effort to push Umbridge from her positions. It was easy to pass a further motion, demanding Umbridge's immediate termination, not only as Hogwarts High Inquisitor and Professor, but also from her position as Undersecretary. They argued that if her judgment was this questionable in a school full of children, then she had no business whatsoever working in a position that allowed her to influence government policy. The box of blood quills sitting on Dumbledore's desk in the Wizengamot chambers was a visible reminder of just what depths the woman was willing to descend to achieve her goals.
At the school, the delivery of the morning paper sent the Great Hall into a chaotic riot of hushed conversations and astonished reactions. The reaction was largely in Harry's favor, as no student wished to have to put up with the woman's form of punishment. A certain blond individual was not amused at seeing his name besmirched in print. Though he did, unsurprisingly, use the opportunity to heckle Harry, even then, his success was questionable at best, as Harry merely favored him with a smirk and an amused thumbs-up before ignoring him completely. Harry did oblige the masses and showed his hand—though the pink marks were now fading—to anyone who wished to see it. He considered some of the reactions over the top, especially those of many girls who had openly tittered about him over the years, now using the opportunity to fawn over him, even in the presence of his betrothed. Overall, however, Harry was generally pleased with the positive attention he was receiving for a change. It was certainly better than when he had been accused of being the heir of Slytherin or a glory-seeking cheater who had used illicit means to be named a tournament champion.
As for Umbridge, she did not take this setback to her plans well at all. She showed up for breakfast the next morning completely unconcerned with the events of the previous evening. She had thought to enjoy a leisurely breakfast, after which she would Floo the Minister and tell him of Dumbledore's latest misstep, certain he would see to the return of her blood quills, and perhaps even use the Headmaster's actions as an excuse to remove him from the school.
The morning had not turned out as she had expected, however, as the arrival of the paper brought her pleasant mood to an ignoble end. The sight of those offensive headlines enraged her, and the reactions of the students—she was the recipient of the disapproving glares of almost the entire hall within minutes—pushed her to the brink of apoplexy.
She was the Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic! How dare they attack her in this matter! Could they not see that she was merely trying to control a troublemaker and put an end to his lies and fear-mongering? She would see to it that they paid a harsh penalty for daring to oppose her!
Unfortunately, it did not work out the way she had intended, as her arrival to the Minister's office was met by the man himself, and he was clearly in no mood to be understanding.
"You stupid witch!" Fudge roared. "How could you have been caught with such instruments in a school? And by Dumbledore himself? I am simply amazed that you were stupid enough to allow yourself to be caught red-handed using such an item on his favorite protégé."
The fact that she had used the blood quill did not bother the Minister in the slightest—in other circumstances, it would have been a very effective tool in cowing the little troublemaker and enforcing discipline. However, the situation with Potter and their utter defeat during the lad's trial had called for a much more delicate approach. Clearly he had been a fool to think that this woman was capable of acting with anything approaching subtlety.
"But Minister—" Fudge, however, was in no mood to entertain the woman's incessant whining and complaining. He raised a hand to silence her, his brow furrowed in frustration. "I sent you to Hogwarts with a specific mission – to enforce control, to marginalize the Headmaster and the Boy-Who-Lived. Instead, you've managed to bring the condemnation of our entire society down upon us. You've inadvertently strengthened the images of those we were desperately trying to undermine. What on earth were you thinking?"
Umbridge's demeanor revealed her escalating frustration, with clenched hands and a wild fury burning in her eyes. Contradiction never sat well with her, and the feeling of being outsmarted by Potter and Dumbledore was evidently straining her already thin patience.
"You told me to use whatever means at my disposal to gain control of the situation, Minister," Umbridge shrilled, her voice edged with defensiveness.
Fudge sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I did not tell you to torture a young boy who, despite everything else, is considered a hero! This situation required finesse, a soft touch, and a deft hand. Instead, you employed your typical 'dragon in an apothecary' approach and mucked it up completely!"
Leaning back in his chair, Fudge regarded Umbridge with a mixture of disappointment and exasperation. "You may not realize it, Madam, but Dumbledore has called an emergency session of the Wizengamot, and it's set to begin in ten minutes. I presume I do not need to inform you of the agenda for that meeting." Fudge's tone was heavy with implications, emphasizing the gravity of the situation Umbridge had thrust upon them.
Umbridge's eyes widened comically, a look of disbelief settling over her features. "He wouldn't dare."
"Of course he would," snapped Fudge, his patience wearing thin. "The man has been consuming political rivals for breakfast since long before you were out of your nappies. Did you honestly think he wouldn't seize this opportunity?"
"In that case, it is well that I am here," Umbridge said with a sniff of disdain. "I shall defend myself against his charges in person."
"You shall do no such thing!" Fudge bellowed. "You've messed this situation up enough already."
"But Minister—"
"Enough! Given the mood in this building right now, I can't rule out the possibility of you leaving that room unscathed. You will return to Hogwarts immediately, teach your classes, and not say one word out of line to any student. In the meantime, I will attempt to mitigate the damage you have caused."
Umbridge appeared ready to protest, glaring at Fudge with a harsh eye for several moments before abruptly turning and stepping into the Floo. She screeched her destination in her high-pitched voice, devoid of the cultivated sweetness she typically affected.
Fudge sank into his chair behind his desk, dropping his head into his hands. The predicament seemed insurmountable. It was evident that the Wizengamot would demand Umbridge's immediate termination. With the Prophet, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and the swift outrage of society, it would take a miracle for him to keep her at the school. The repercussions of Umbridge's actions were spreading like wildfire, and Fudge knew he was in for a storm of political and public backlash.
In truth, the Minister attended the Wizengamot session with little inclination to defend his Undersecretary. Fudge, at heart, was a political animal, albeit a corrupt one. He could read the writing on the wall, realizing there was relatively little he could do to protect his employee. His calls for an investigation into the matter were ignored—Madam Bones emphasized the Chief Warlock's discovery of Umbridge's actions red-handed—and his appeals for calm went unheeded. Leaving the session thoroughly beaten, Fudge plotted to safeguard his own position. The sacrifice of Umbridge was regrettable; she had been useful as an attack dog, but personally, he would not mourn her loss in the slightest.
Back at Hogwarts, the expected explosion of fury was provoked and exceeded when the fourth-year Gryffindors failed to show up for their morning Defense class. The Slytherins, attending with reluctance, were the only ones present. Perhaps it was not surprising when Umbridge stormed into the Transfiguration classroom moments after the period had begun.
"Professor McGonagall!" she squealed as she barged into the room. "Why have your fourth years not shown up for class this morning?"
McGonagall pierced the Defense Professor with a look akin to one directed at a particularly annoying insect. "Can you not guess?" she responded with distaste.
The answer clearly took Umbridge aback, and her mouth flapped uselessly for several moments. "I certainly cannot!" Umbridge yelled after a few moments. "It is time for class. You will have your house in my classroom in five minutes, or I will see them all expelled!"
McGonagall's stern gaze remained unwavering. "Expelled, you say? Well, Professor Umbridge, it appears you have a lot to catch up on regarding the current state of affairs in this school. Perhaps you should join us in the staff room for a discussion." The tension in the room thickened, setting the stage for a confrontation between two formidable figures.
"You really expect me to put my house members in danger again after your actions yesterday? Truly, Dolores, I knew you could be a little blind, but I did not know you could descend to this level of idiocy."
The redness of Umbridge's face caused the students to exchange worried glances, fearing she might burst a blood vessel and keel over from rage. Not that her demise would have been mourned—on the contrary, a dead body in a classroom would have fueled weeks of gossip. The prospect that it could be Umbridge would likely have had the student body cheering rather than mourning.
"I will see you lose your position for this, Professor!" Umbridge hissed. "I am the High Inquisitor for this institution, and I will be respected!"
"Respect is earned, Dolores, not demanded," McGonagall's response was implacable. "I believe your actions yesterday have made respect impossible and your position as High Inquisitor nonexistent. Now leave my classroom so that I may resume my instruction."
Umbridge stormed out of the room and immediately complained to the Headmaster, who had returned from the Wizengamot chambers by this time. However, she was to receive no satisfaction from him either. Dumbledore sat through her rant with an impassive expression on his face, not speaking until her fury had run its course. The weight of Umbridge's escalating troubles seemed to hang in the air, and the tension within Hogwarts was palpable.
"I believe, Dolores," he said at length, "that your lack of Gryffindor students is your own doing. I suspect that many parents have already instructed their children to boycott your class, and can only assume that Gryffindor house is only declaring their united support for one of their own."
"I'll see them all expelled!" Umbridge retorted, her voice filled with venom.
Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair with a hard expression on his face. "If you believe for one moment that your petulant demands will be met with anything other than contempt, you are sadly mistaken, Madam. As I stated previously, the situation is your own doing, and I suggest that you dismiss any thoughts of using this ridiculous 'High Inquisitor' position you and the Minister have cooked up to get your own way. I will not allow it."
"And furthermore, I believe Gryffindor has the right of it in this matter," he continued over her protestations. "I am hereby canceling all Defense classes until your situation has been resolved. I will make a further announcement at lunch today—you do not have any more classes before then, do you?"
Umbridge was so shocked that she was unable to respond. Dumbledore would have felt pity for her were she not such a detestable woman.
"Go back to your office, Dolores—I shall ensure that any students remaining in your classroom are dismissed." The Headmaster's firmness conveyed a sense of authority that left Umbridge fuming, her plans of maintaining control slipping through her fingers. The dynamics at Hogwarts were shifting, and Dumbledore seemed determined to bring about a resolution that would not favor the High Inquisitor.
In fact, the students had vacated the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom long before Umbridge's return. In their absence, the room had undergone a transformation into a swamp, complete with buzzing insects, vibrant foliage, and brackish water. To perfect the tableau, a couple of charmed crocodiles added an extra touch of authenticity. Completely consumed by her fury, Umbridge failed to notice that her classroom had metamorphosed into a scene straight out of the Florida Everglades. Unaware, she tumbled face-first into the muck, only to be rescued by none other than Professor Snape, who happened to be in the vicinity, extracting his students from her unconventional lesson.
"Really must take better care to keep your classroom clear of obstructions like this, Dolores," Snape drawled as he pulled her from the swamp.
Leaving her to fend for herself, Snape departed without offering further assistance. Umbridge, with soiled and dripping robes, and hair transformed into a muddy, plastered mess, resembled more a mud wrestler than the impeccably groomed professor she once presented herself as. Regardless of her efforts, she found herself unable to rid her classroom of the swamp. After several increasingly desperate attempts, she marched imperiously to her quarters, though the squelching of mud in her shoes ruined her image of superiority, eliciting snickers from those fortunate enough to witness her difficulty.
Matters only worsened for the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at lunch. Moments after she sat down to her meal, her immaculate pink robes—recently restored to their dubious glory—vanished and morphed into an alternating black and white striped jumpsuit. Despite her fervent attempts, the jumpsuit resisted all her efforts to dispel it. And as if that wasn't enough, her once-elaborate coif unraveled, turning a dull gray. Her hair fell in limp, droopy clumps around her cheeks, and to add to her humiliation, stubble appeared on her chin and cheeks. The entire Great Hall erupted in laughter at the sight of Umbridge, resembling a long-incarcerated cell block inmate. Even the Weasley twins couldn't contain their mirth, exchanging amused glances and thumbs up, drawing additional laughter from the amused student body.
Her fury, now reaching unprecedented levels, forced Umbridge to shuffle from the Great Hall—the final gift from the prank appearing to be a severe case of arthritis. She was not seen again in the halls of Hogwarts that day, or for several days after. Many assumed she wished to avoid a repeat of her humiliation, while the reality was that she simply could not dispel the pranks and was forced to wait until they wore off.
The next day, calls for Umbridge's removal began to appear in the Daily Prophet, and the Quibbler ran a special edition to cover the scandal erupting on the Minister and his Undersecretary. The Quibbler's edition was especially noteworthy, featuring an interview with Harry Potter himself and a full account of exactly what had occurred in the Defense Professor's office that Halloween evening. Though known to only a few friends, Luna had written the articles herself, sending the transcripts of their discussions to her father, who was eager to increase the circulation of his somewhat odd magazine by printing the statement of the Boy-Who-Lived.
The Minister found himself caught in a deluge of outraged Floo calls and howlers, the worst of which came from Molly Weasley. He was certain that the woman's voice had been heard as far as the Orkneys, and her language was neither pleasant nor acceptable. The furor continued into the weekend as Fudge, though resigned to sacrificing Umbridge for his own greater good, delayed in sacking her to distance himself from her actions and subsequent fall. Employing every political trick he knew, Fudge told reporters he was "investigating" the woman's actions, piously called for calm while his inquiries ran their course, and called in several favors to keep the Wizengamot from calling for his own removal.
At length, however, he bowed to the inevitable. Jean-Sebastian's final intervention played a significant role in bringing an end to the situation. Since leaving the Headmaster's office, Jean-Sebastian had not been idle. He made his sentiments known through diplomatic channels, putting more pressure on Fudge through his diatribes against Umbridge. He involved the highest level of the French magical government in the matter and used his ICW contacts to ensure that Umbridge's actions were known on the international stage. While no meeting of the ICW was called, and no official resolution passed, the combined statements of several European Ambassadors proved invaluable in influencing the outcome.
Fudge had finally been goaded into action, however, when Jean-Sebastian showed up in his office.
Walking into the Minister's office on that Sunday afternoon, Jean-Sebastian immediately noted the tired, almost haggard appearance of the British Minister. The man seemed as though he had spent almost every waking moment in the office since the scandal with his Undersecretary had broken—and he very likely had, considering the amount of effort he had had to expend in fending off the avalanche of accusations and condemnations that had befallen him. And still, he had not removed the woman from her positions. Jean-Sebastian, having spent almost as much time as Fudge in the political world, was keenly aware of the reasons behind Fudge's actions. However, this could not be allowed to go any further.
"Minister," was Jean-Sebastian's perfunctory greeting as he stepped into the office.
A scowl adorned Fudge's face as he peered up at Jean-Sebastian. "Ambassador, I am quite busy. If you would schedule an appointment with my assistant, I am sure I can spare a few moments for you some time during the week."
"I assure you, Minister, I will not take up much of your… valuable time," Jean-Sebastian responded with a look of distaste. "I believe it is in your best interests to hear what I have to say."
Without an invitation, Jean-Sebastian sat across from the Minister, noting the sniff of disdain he received at his pronouncement. Considering the feeling was decidedly mutual, Jean-Sebastian ignored the petty man and came right to the point.
"Minister, I am concerned, not only over the actions of your Undersecretary, but also for the fact that it is now five days after she used a blood quill to try to bully my ward, and yet she is a teacher at an institution of education."
An exaggerated sigh preceded Fudge's response. "Ambassador, I understand your frustration and impatience. I will make the same reply to you which I have made to everyone else who has pressed me on this matter—the matter is being investigated, and I will take the appropriate steps once that investigation is complete."
Jean-Sebastian leaned forward in his chair and affixed the Minister with a stern and implacable stare. "Let us not obfuscate here, Minister. I am well aware of the reason for your delay. I will not allow it to continue any further. If Madam Umbridge is not removed from her teaching position at Hogwarts this very evening, I will have no choice but to pull both my wards from Hogwarts and transfer them to Beauxbatons immediately."
The Minister's consternation was instantly evident as he blanched. "But… but… why would you take Mr. Potter away now?" he sputtered. "He is very well taken care of at Hogwarts where he receives the best instruction available."
Jean-Sebastian's expression remained unyielding. "It is precisely because he deserves the best instruction available that I am making this demand. It is clear that the current environment at Hogwarts, particularly within the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, is not conducive to a safe and enriching education for any student, let alone my wards. I will not subject them to further harm or neglect in the name of bureaucratic delay."
"Hogwarts is indeed a premier magical school," was Jean-Sebastian's sage response. "However, Beauxbatons can also claim to be its equal in many ways. I will be blunt—the fact that your Undersecretary has behaved in the manner in which she has, has me deeply troubled. In good conscience, I cannot have my ward exposed to the potential of any continuation of the treatment he has been subjected to. The Headmistress of Beauxbatons has assured me that Harry may begin his studies in France as early as tomorrow, and that everything—including language tutors and English instruction—can be provided to him. It is a very generous offer indeed, and one which I cannot turn down if Harry's potential safety is at stake."
Fudge's continued stammering would have been amusing under other circumstances, but in this instance, Jean-Sebastian had neither time nor patience for the man. He would have his assurances now, or Harry would move to a new school.
"Very well," Fudge managed at last. "I will attempt to hurry along the investigation and make a final determination of Madam Umbridge's status as soon as possible."
"Tonight, Minister," was Jean-Sebastian's steely reply. He stood and turned to leave but paused at the door for one final warning. "I am in earnest. Do not test my resolve." With that, he exited the Minister's office, leaving a bewildered Fudge to grapple with the consequences of his inaction.
As Fudge's realization sank in, the weight of his decision pressed heavily upon him. The knowledge that Harry's departure could spell the end of his ministerial reign acted as an impetus for his swift and almost knee-jerk response. In a move that resonated with both authority and desperation, Fudge immediately relieved Umbridge of all her positions within the Ministry.
To maintain a tenuous grip on his own political standing, Fudge craftily spun a narrative that framed Umbridge's tenure at Hogwarts as a well-intentioned effort to enhance the quality of education. He vehemently disavowed any connection to the nefarious blood quill, asserting that he had never sanctioned its use on any student. His carefully orchestrated message sought to convey that Umbridge's egregious actions were entirely her own, undertaken without his knowledge, consent, or the approval of any other Ministry official.
While accepting the warranted criticism that he should have exercised better control over Umbridge as her superior, Fudge begrudgingly extended a Ministry apology to Harry for the appalling treatment he had endured. He even went so far as to assure Harry that the next Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor would not replicate Umbridge's tyrannical behavior.
Thus concluded Delores Umbridge's stint as the Defense Professor at Hogwarts. Her belongings were meticulously packed, and she found herself flanked by two stern-faced Aurors and the Headmaster himself as they escorted her to the school's entrance. A throng of curious students had gathered, eagerly anticipating the spectacle of her departure.
Umbridge, unwilling to exit without a parting shot, spotted Harry observing the scene with a self-satisfied smirk. "You think you've won, don't you, you disgusting little Half-blood!" she spat venomously.
Harry, ever cool under pressure, drawled, "I don't think I've won. I know I've won."
But Umbridge wasn't about to bow out gracefully. "Do not become too complacent, Mr. Potter," she snarled, her voice a dissonant blend of hardness and nasal whine. "I will have my revenge upon you and all of your little friends."
Hermione, quick-witted as ever, couldn't resist injecting humor into the tense atmosphere. "She sounds like the Wicked Witch of the West, doesn't she?" she quipped, launching into a spot-on impression of the classic movie villain. Her imitation prompted laughter throughout the hall, especially from Muggle-born and Half-blood students who recognized the reference. The departure of Umbridge, though ignoble, was marked with a touch of levity as the school collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
Dumbledore's authoritative voice cut through the tension as he addressed Umbridge from behind. "That is enough, Delores. Leave this school immediately and do not return."
Despite the seething loathing in her eyes, Umbridge refrained from uttering another word. With a haughty stride, she made her exit, greeted by the resounding laughter of the gathered onlookers. Unbeknownst to her, the Weasley twins had orchestrated a parting prank. As she walked away, her pink robes presented an illusion of normalcy, but as soon as she turned her back, the striped jumpsuit from earlier in the week made a reappearance. The collective mirth of the crowd, fueled by the twins' mischievous touch, only intensified as she left the premises.
A peculiar twist in the tale manifested as Umbridge did not face the confines of Azkaban for her transgressions. The legal repercussions for the possession of a blood quill were relatively straightforward, entailing a fine. However, the murkier waters surrounding its use on a minor allowed her room for negotiation. Seizing the opportunity, she struck a deal with Fudge, leveraging his support for a lenient sentence in exchange for her silence regarding his questionable activities during his administration.
Dumbledore, while harboring a desire to see Umbridge behind bars, faced the harsh reality of a Wizengamot still influenced by those championing blood purity. As a Pureblood herself, Umbridge enjoyed a certain reluctance among members to consign her to Azkaban. Acknowledging this political quagmire, Dumbledore wisely refrained from pursuing a prison conviction. Instead, he orchestrated financial repercussions to hit her with maximum impact. In addition to the fine for the blood quills and their malevolent use, an extra penalty was imposed for her vitriolic comments and threats towards Harry during her departure.
The fines and penalties, collectively substantial, served as a form of retribution, ensuring that Umbridge faced the consequences of her actions in a way that resonated beyond the confines of a prison cell.
Despite her Pureblood status, Umbridge hailed from a less affluent family, relying heavily on her Ministry salary and surreptitious skimming of funds Fudge received for supporting bills, largely from Lucius Malfoy. The imposed fines took a significant toll on her vault, yet Fudge, attempting to further secure her silence, replenished some of her losses from his own coffers. The unspoken threat of Azkaban, dangled before her by Fudge, proved a potent deterrent, dissuading her from exposing his misdemeanors solely for spite and revenge. The mere thought of a rendezvous with a Dementor quelled any inclination she might have had to betray the Minister.
In a final exchange about the Defense Professor position, Fudge, stepping from the Floo, attempted to assert control once more. "I have come to inform you of the identity of your new Defense Professor, Headmaster," he declared, lacking any preamble.
Dumbledore, wearied by the Minister's persistent attempts to manipulate Hogwarts, removed his glasses and massaged his temples. Fudge's delusion that he could dictate terms after the disastrous Umbridge appointment left the Headmaster both mollified and frustrated.
"Really, Cornelius, didn't Umbridge's failure teach you anything?"
"What Delores did was reprehensible, Dumbledore, but that is not the point. You require a new Defense Professor, and I have come to appoint one."
"I assure you that is not necessary," Dumbledore responded calmly.
Caught off guard, Fudge shot a suspicious glare at Dumbledore. "What do you mean?"
"Only that I have a replacement for Defense already lined up, Minister."
The suspicion in Fudge's eyes deepened. "Who?"
"I'm afraid that I cannot divulge that information at this time, Minister. Not until I have completed negotiating a contract with the candidate," Dumbledore maintained a firm stance.
"So it's not completed yet?" Fudge seized upon this admission as an opportunity to exert his influence.
"No, it is not," Dumbledore responded with unyielding patience. "In fact, my candidate will not be able to assume his position until the New Year. Until then, I shall be taking over the position in the interim. I will only be required to cover the class until Christmas break, anyway."
Fudge, unwilling to concede, crowed, "I'm afraid that is not good enough, Headmaster. I will have to appoint a replacement if your candidate cannot begin immediately."
Dumbledore slowly rose from his chair, fixing a menacing gaze on the Minister. "Really, Minister, have you not suffered enough of a black eye already with this course of action? We both know that you have only held your position by the slimmest of margins—are you willing to risk being ushered from your office over this? If I take your insistence on interfering with this school again to the Wizengamot, I may have enough votes to remove you."
Fudge, defensive and agitated, snarled, "Is that a threat, Dumbledore?"
"It is merely an observation, Minister," Dumbledore responded calmly. "I have a candidate lined up and have a plan to cover the class until he is ready to assume his position. The needs of your ridiculous law have been met, and as such, you have no further reason to meddle in this school."
Fudge chewed his lip in indecision, caught between asserting his authority and avoiding a potential political downfall. Dumbledore, sensing the Minister's internal struggle, decided to extend an olive branch.
"If it helps, Cornelius, I assure you that I have no intention whatsoever of pushing for your position. I am quite busy dealing with the positions I already hold. Is my word enough to persuade you to leave me to run the school, or do you need me to swear an oath?"
After a contemplative pause, Fudge sighed and conceded, "Very well. Let me know who your candidate is as soon as you can. I will leave you to it."
With a short bow, the Minister retreated back through the Floo, leaving Dumbledore to reclaim his seat and tackle the paperwork that had accumulated in his absence. Finally, perhaps, a semblance of sanity could be restored to the school.
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