Author's Notes: I'm playing with these characters like dolls. They're going on so many tea and manipulation dates.

Its actually so tragic that Umbridge doesn't do any sort of practical lessons. Imagine the things I could have written if she'd let Kronnis participate in mock duels, or if she was sicking boggarts on her classes (I've been fantasizing). Truly, being Hogwarts' most boring teacher is the worst crime she's ever committed.

Beta ready by Circade.

Kronnis was trying very hard.

Normally he wouldn't have bothered fighting absurd rumors, his reputation in Baldur's Gate a protective aegis that repelled spoiled produce and silenced malicious whisperings. Here, however, he was just a strange foreigner wielding untested political power. A little bit of Chain Lighting might correct that notion, he thought, looking down at the judging eyes of children, but then he'd have to deal with getting arrested. Not a good look.

He popped another tiny tomato into his mouth. Bursting its skin apart between dull molars, it exploded with the rot of slanderous libel. Another eight of the abominations waited on his plate, along with plain toast and a bland bowl of cereal.

Tomatoes, Kronnis decided, were his least favorite fruit.

"Have you considered that you might be being a bit dramatic?" asked the voice of the Emperor, today's copy of the Daily Prophet rustling in his claws.

"Easy for you to say."

"She would have printed even worse about me, if given the chance."

Kronnis again stabbed his fork through the bright red skin of his breakfast. Surrounded by plates of bacon, sausages, and ham, he felt like a parched man treading water in a lake. Dinner was going to be even worse – he was already fantasizing of the tiny chunks of meat hidden away in Hogwarts' steak and kidney pie, bursting with a flavor that he couldn't seem to get anywhere else. Tonight, he was going to have bangers and mash, minus the bangers, and perhaps with some peas, just to prove a point. "So you sacrificed my reputation instead?"

"We had to allow her a curious fable, and she had already written too many notes about your diet. Tearing any more papers out of her notebook would have been painfully obvious. This rumor of drow being carnivorous is a necessary evil."

Looking up at the Great Hall, Kronnis watched groups of students huddle over copies of today's news. "They all think I'm some sort of freak now."

Dry newsprint crinkled beside him. Having pretended intense concentration on the paper and outwardly remaining silent all morning, the Emperor's sudden glower, indifferent to his plight, was scathing. "Rumors about one's diet are hardly as much trouble as you make them out to be."

"Alright. Yes, you're right," Kronnis quickly backpedaled. "But this is totally different! She just made that up, and now everyone's looking at me like I'm going to eat their owls!" He shoved the fork into his mouth, glaring at a second-year who'd been staring at him for far longer than appropriate and imaging the bleeding fruit in his mouth to be their head; a tender treat, popped after enough pressure was applied.

Swallowing both this thought and his tomato, he snatched the paper from his partner's hands. What was it she'd said again? Right, there it was; '…and that, my dear readers, marked the end of my afternoon with the delegates of Baldur's Gate. But fret not – I have one last morsel of information for you to chew on! The Emperor's strange diet, or lack of one, certainly raised brows and piqued curiosity, but what of Lord Teken'rret, who seems to have tried all Hogwarts has to offer, and settled for routine meals of steak and kidney pie? Well, when asked about the peculiarities of a meat-based diet, the good Lord refused to give comment, citing a desire for privacy. I respectfully obliged, of course, but make of that what you will! When you get the chance to visit – in two to five years, I was promised – you'd best be careful in the markets of Baldur's Gate. The meats might be a bit rarer than expected.'

"'Respectfully obliged' my ass," Kronnis grumbled. "That witch is only in the business of spreading lies."

The Emperor rescued his paper before the lightning bursting from Kronnis' hands could set it alight, flipping to a page that detailed another batch of muggle disappearances. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Had she been unable to dig up enough half-truths, we might have found ourselves fighting a rumor more difficult to disprove."

"Half-truth? You know drow aren't carnivorous!"

The weight of an illithid consciousness in his head faded, retreating until only watchful eyes loomed in the distance. "I suggest you reflect on your recent dietary habits."

Kronnis looked down at his toast. He considered his cereal, untouched and soggy. He eyed a nearby platter of hams and salamis, salted until no flavor remained, yet still more appetizing than any vegetable Hogwarts had seen fit to serve in his vicinity.

…he fed himself another tomato, resolutely not thinking about how Rita's words had dug a pit at his core, once he'd realized the pattern she'd pointed out. He had no problem eating things other than meat. He liked sweets just fine, and nectarous fruits, rich cream, fresh bread, pickled fungus – the list went on.

People were allowed to have preferences! A taste for savory game wasn't strange.

It didn't satisfy him half as much as he wished, anyway.

"Professor Umbridge," the Emperor said later that week, greeting the High Inquisitor after her classroom had emptied of students. "I was wondering if you might be able to assist with something our dukes recently expressed an interest in."

Umbridge's wand flicked as she directed desks and chairs back into perfect order. "Of course! I was just thinking of sitting down for a spot of tea, if you'd like to join me?"

Kronnis hid gritting teeth behind a polite smile. This was a chance he'd been looking forward to for a week, a recent sharpening of his psionic abilities leaving him restless as he struggled against the urge to idly manipulate the lesser minds of the castle. He wasn't about to let her sickeningly sweet swill deter him. "That'd be lovely. I've found myself missing the one you served back in September. Breakfast tea, I believe?"

"Yes, from India." She smiled back, a too-wide pulling of lips that appeared to split her face in two. "How kind of you to remember – it's my favorite." Another swish nudged the wide-open door to close with a click, and a final twirl of wood through air cleared the rooms' chalkboard, leaving it a pristine green-black. Umbridge then pocketed her wand, ushering them to the attached office where her plate-bedecked walls greeted them with a cacophony of purrs, trills, and chirps.

A tin of biscuits was brought out, hesitantly set before Kronnis with a suspicion that only evaporated once he'd subtly rolled his eyes and taken a bite of one. Tea was prepared, split between two cups. Umbridge's jar of pink-tinted sugar made a reappearance, and Kronnis again let her opinion on the proper amount of sweetener go unchallenged, watching as she added spoonful after spoonful, comfortably complacent in her routine.

While she summoned a carafe of milk to cut through the astringency of the tea's tannins, he snuck a look down at his fingers. A galleon twirled between them; fat, shining, and embossed on one side with the image of a bearded wizard, the other bearing a proud dragon. It had the heft of Gringotts' falsely golden coinage and the bank's name was branded atop it, but this coin was a forgery. Its serial numbers were a date and time – today, five o'clock in the evening – rather than the thirteen-digit identification string goblins used.

Umbridge's floral desk-clock indicated that it was currently quarter to five, and Kronnis presumed that the members of Harry's defense group were likely making their way through the castle now, in suspiciously-sized groups and with a gleam in their eyes that would've raised the alarm of any rule-enforcing figure of authority.

Each of these students carried a galleon identical to Kronnis', enchanted by Hermione to communicate information without evidence-laden words or indicative glances. A sensible precaution, but still a plan being carried out by children, notoriously prone to a lack of subtlety and unpracticed in the art of deception.

During his weekly check-up on the malignant mind sharing Harry's head, the Emperor had praised this ingenuity. He'd shared sentiments of approval and confidence, as though he harbored no doubt in the success of the trio's idea. He'd then suggested that he and Kronnis distract Umbridge for the entirety of Harry's first lesson, providing their promised assistance and giving his group a chance to meet up without the risk of immediate discovery, so they might organize themselves with the appropriate secrecy.

This wasn't something they could do every time Harry held a lesson – they'd quickly run out of nonsense to waste Umbridge's time with – but they could at least do it this once. As the High Inquisitor handed him his cup of tea, asking what the dukes of Baldur's Gate might possibly want from her, Kronnis watered the seeds of a conversation that would hopefully last all the way till dinner. "The dukes have decided that Baldur's Gate might be in need of educational reform."

"Oh," she breathed, an interest that wasn't falsified by her duty to play nice with them washing over her face. "Yes, I do believe you've come to the right person."

He smiled, crossing his legs and sitting back more comfortably in the plush of his chair. "I was hoping you might say that."

The Emperor explained further, weaving an excuse to hold Umbridge hostage in her office from the scraps of information they'd previously fed her, the underground city of Baldur's Gate malleable in its reality. "Hogwarts is state-funded, unlike most of our own educational institution. And while our privatized system has its benefits, witnessing the standardization of your tutelage has enlightened us to several inefficiencies back home. More than one voice has clamored for change."

A ripple of emotion disrupted the formal demeanor of Umbridge's mind, the implications of their request immediately recognized. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, after all. "They're looking to enact an administrative overhaul?"

"More or less. The dukes would first like more details on the organizational structure of Hogwarts, before making any commitments, so we thought we might, ah, how does the saying go?" the Emperor paused before segueing into a levity that Umbridge would forever lack the context to truly understand. It wasn't meant for her, in any case, but for Kronnis, who could feel the way his partner's claws slid derisively and demonstratively through humanly-limited grey matter. "Pick your brain, so to speak?"

While she tittered, Kronnis suppressed the sardonic curve of his lips. His own psionic fingers caressed glands and lobes, experimentally tweaking small changes into her emotional reaction until a hint of hysteria left her mouth. "Too much bureaucracy tends to slow things down," he added, allowing more experienced hands to correct her endorphin levels. "So it's the efficient division of responsibilities that we're most curious about – what goes on behind the scenes, so to speak, to keep the school running."

Umbridge beamed, displaying an imperious smile and oblivious to the practice being carried out at her expense. "You're right, of course," she began, "that the Ministry funds Hogwarts. The education of young witches and wizards is of the utmost importance. The budget we provide is sufficient to satisfy all the school's needs, though it's up to the headmaster to determine how it's spent. That's why you might see students learning on brooms that should've long since been replaced, or disruption in the classroom – dreadfully stretched, some of these professors are."

Was she suggesting that Dumbledore embezzled? "Why not just increase the budget?" Kronnis asked.

"Our accountants calculate the exact costs of everything needed in a school year. If Dumbledore doesn't follow our recommendations… well, hem," Umbridge responded, either coughing with disapproval or laughing as she paused to very unsubtly imply exactly what Kronnis thought she might've meant. "As I said; the power to make spending decisions lies solely with the headmaster, and Hogwarts is not the only institution the Ministry needs to allocate resources for."

The Emperor nodded at her argument, reasonably worded and just barely not slanderous enough to be worth commenting on. "Similar constraints are currently being argued by naysayers in our parliament – adding a new governmental department to oversee education would strain the budget."

Halfway-real sympathy kindled in Umbridge's eyes. "Yes, that sounds rather familiar – I can't think of any topic more contentious than the budget," she said, in a tone that gave the term great weight.

A purple hand was extended in jovial gesture. "Cuts to said budget, perhaps."

Kronnis huffed a laugh and then interrupted Umbridge's high-pitched giggle with another joke. "Or policy framework. We once had a session of parliament where the guards actually had to protect the patriars from each other!"

"Oh my! What policy brought that on?"

"A restriction on certain traditions," the Emperor explained, a memory of finely-aged satisfaction coloring his words. "It was resolved peacefully in the end, though the instigating parliamentarians resigned from their posts."

Kronnis recalled the matter a bit differently. Three years ago, Lord Paalater's proposed ban on cobble parties had barely made it through two tumultuous rounds of discussion, and by then the other patriars had looked more ready to vote him out than to vote on the matter he'd brought to the table. They'd never had the chance to do either – the citizenry worked faster than bureaucratic process, and the man's suggestion had proven unpopular enough to summon a storm of criticism, complete with hail that shared the texture, colour, and weight of fist sized stones. Paalater had last been seen on the road to Amn, presumably running back to ancestral family estates with his tail between his legs and bruises forming on his back.

The Emperor hadn't even orchestrated this informal banishment – he'd actually been one tentacle away from storming High Hall to personally clobber some respect into Paalater's mind – but the outcome had pleased him all the same. Cobble parties were a proud tradition, after all, ancient enough to exist during Balduran's adventuring days.

"Such rabble is hardly deserving of their positions," Umbridge commented, nodding at the Emperor's vague summation and summoning various faces from the depths of her memory, political malcontents who didn't bow to the Minister's every wish. "We unfortunately have our fair share of similar characters, as you no doubt saw at Mr. Potter's trial."

"It certainly was an exciting session," the Emperor replied ambiguously as he tried to remain above her level of petty and thinly-veiled disparagement. "Though I am afraid I've distracted from the matter at hand – the Ministry provides Hogwarts' budget, salaries and all, but until Educational Decree Twenty-Two was passed, I understand that the power to hire staff remained solely with the headmaster?"

An ugly smile twisted Umbridge's features. "That's right," she gloated in a tone that matched the miasma of vindication evident in her surface thoughts. "This year marked a turning point – progress that was necessary in order to preserve our own traditions, lest they wither under the instruction of substandard educators."

"Preserving tradition through progress," Kronnis echoed after a sip of tea. "A daring contradiction, though not one without results."

The Emperor nodded. "Baldur's Gate is unlikely to begin any proposed education reform with similar governmental involvement, but I can see the advantages your appointment offers. The Ministry would find it much more difficult to assess the state of its citizens' education without someone to monitor Hogwarts' standards."

Not to mention its headmaster, who Umbridge seemed determined to vilify. "You know," Kronnis said, leaning in as though to admit a secret and hoping she'd become a bit more tolerable if he led her into an embarrassing social misstep. "When we'd heard that the Ministry intended to review the professors' performances, we grew a bit concerned about the quality of the classes here."

"Oh, I completely understand," she responded gleefully, "I've heard some things about Dumbledore's cognitive decline-"

His bait taken, he interrupted before Umbridge could finish articulating the rude comment she'd just hastily constructed in her mind. "And there was a little bit of fat to trim – Professor Tonks is a marked improvement over that Binns fellow – but I can't say that I'd make a single other change, if I were to have a say around here."

While Umbridge stutteringly backpedaled her way towards some sort of diplomatic response, the Emperor whispered his amusement into Kronnis' head. "Not even to include practical lessons on offensive magic?"

Another slow sip hid his wistful smile. "I think you'd have to rewrite her entire personality before she'd allow it."

"Nonsense. You could do it yourself."

Kronnis absently stirred a finger through Umbridge's thoughts as he considered his partner's words, watching as her mind's natural elasticity flowed around the disruption like a swirled glass of wine, reforming into a surface rich with complex layers of flavor.

Not too long ago, he would've thought such skill far from his reach. The Emperor's flattery, however, wasn't intended as empty platitude, and his sentiment stirred up a confidence that Kronnis had difficulty beating back before it could transform into reckless arrogance. In any case, they both knew the suggestion to be a mere jest – such a course of action was too risky to attempt for anything not absolutely vital to their goals. "Fudge would certainly notice if Umbridge suddenly started letting students duel in her classroom."

"Him and every soul in Hogwarts," the voice in his head laughed, fading as Umbridge's shrill words once again sounded in the room.

"The Ministry's pride is well-placed," she'd decided to say, her smile pinned back into place. "There's a reason Hogwarts is considered one of the finest magical institutions, and our continuous pursuit of excellence is an important piece of the puzzle."

Ah, falling back on propagandic material. Classic. Kronnis was about to offer false platitudes, but Umbridge continued on, a spark in her eyes. "Any inadequacies in performance need to be addressed and corrected before they can affect our students' education – and their safety too!" Her lips pulled wider, hinting at the deranged mindset she normally kept simmering under a tight lid. "Heaven knows how children always manage to get themselves hurt. Too much undisciplined spellcasting and mischief, if you ask me. The Hospital Wing's statistics show an alarming increase in medical admissions."

Kronnis wasn't entirely sure if his interference with Umbridge's mind might be the cause of her newfound zeal, but he wasn't above taking advantage of her instability. A glance at the clock indicated that they still had to keep her busy for another hour and a half. Anticipating that his words would trigger a passionate tirade, or at least an additional topic to discuss, he feigned earnest curiosity as he ventured a daring suggestion. "Wouldn't the practice of spells in a controlled environment help keep them from accidentally hurting themselves?"

"It's not always spells," she dismissed immediately, leaning in over her desk. "Sometimes, it's the professors!"

"The professors?" the Emperor echoed, while Kronnis fought to keep his eyebrows in a neutral position. "I thought your inspections had not found anything else of concern?"

They'd been fairly certain of this, actually. Snape's classes might be the most dangerous in the castle – the caustic steam emanating from a Gryffindor boy's cauldron had forced an evacuation of the classroom just a few days ago – but Kronnis didn't recall Umbridge even issuing the man a warning, or advising him to implement any sort of stricter safety measures. And he supposed that an argument could very well be made against Sprout's practical lessons, where she had students handle plants that could poison, petrify, or throttle. McGonagall and Flitwick's classes weren't all that safe either, miscast spells sending victims of accident straight to Madam Pomfrey.

Umbridge concern, however, didn't seem related to any of these individuals. The face of an unfamiliar man swam in her mind, with dark eyes hidden beneath thickly-set brows and a beard that appeared merged with a shaggy mane of hair.

"Yes, well," she cleared her throat. "I have – all the ones currently teaching. You're aware that Grubbly-Plank is filling in for the normal Care of Magical Creatures professor?"

"We had heard something about that, yes."

"You might not be familiar, but the regular one – Hagrid, his name is – has a bit of a reputation."

This time, Kronnis did raise an eyebrow. "A reputation?"

"For putting the students in danger," Umbridge said in a low voice.

That sounded more exciting than worrisome. No matter how wild the man appeared in her mind, Kronnis knew that Dumbledore wouldn't allow an actual maniac to hold a teaching position. Umbridge probably just thought anything more practical than Grubbly-Plank's lessons on distantly swimming merfolk needlessly risky.

"Mr. Malfoy was dreadfully hurt by a hippogriff during one of his classes, and he's a half-giant, if you can believe it," Umbridge continued importantly, before abruptly clacking her mouth shut as she looked between Kronnis' elvish features and the Emperor's own oversized form with a flustered widening of her eyes.

The Emperor magnanimously ignored her bigoted slip of the tongue. "Hogwarts has hippogriffs?"

"Not anymore," she admitted. "Savage beasts, they were."

"Ah, what a shame. I had always wanted to see one in person – most of the creatures Grubbly-Plank introduced us to are ones we only ever hear about in old stories."

"She shared a funny proverb once," Kronnis added, "that you can't learn to care for a flobberworm whilst avoiding their mucus."

Umbridge frowned. "A flobberworm is very different from a Hippogriff."

He shrugged. "The principle is the same. Students would hardly be prepared for a career in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures without hands-on experience. And I'm sure the rumors about his class are a bit exaggerated – there's a rather silly one about myself going 'round right now." Kronnis didn't elaborate on that, instead snatching another bland biscuit and biting off a generous chunk so he might look daringly into her eyes while chewing it.

Umbridge frowned as she watched. Several emotions curdled in her mind while she considered her failure to manipulate their opinions – uncertainty, frustration, and then self-soothing reassurance. "We shall see, I suppose – I have it on good authority that Hagrid should be returning in a week or two."

Good authority? Ah, the source of her disdain was clear now – Hagrid was Dumbledore's man. Even if he hadn't been one of the half-breeds she loved to look down upon, association with the headmaster was enough to earn Umbridge's ire. It seeped from her, a loathing whisper of toxicity.

In any case, Dumbledore's allies were being watched, and Hagrid, whatever he might've been doing, wasn't an exception. He was also incredibly conspicuous, standing at eleven feet tall, and thus easy for the Ministry to keep an eye on as he made his way back to Britain from wherever he'd been these past months. Umbridge intended boot him right back out, if she could get away with it.

"Grubbly-Plank's lessons are lovely," Kronnis said, casually swirling the dregs of his tea, "but I'm looking forward to meeting professor Hagrid. He sounds like quite the character."

The Emperor made a strange coughing noise at his understatement – Umbridge's claim of injured students wasn't exaggerated; the stink Lucius had made after his son's hospitalization was large enough to drag even the Minister himself into reluctant involvement. "In any case, I fear we might have again strayed from the topic at hand. Earlier we discussed how only Hogwarts' headmaster has the power to hire staff – traditionally. But if the Ministry doesn't usually interfere with staffing, then who hires the headmaster?"

"Excellent question," she said, looking just as relieved as they were to leave this burgeoning argument behind. "Have you heard of Hogwarts' Board of Governors?"

Of course they had, having done enough research to ensure a long and question-filled conversation. The Emperor responded with an understated admittance of "Vaguely," and Umbridge took his invitation for what it was. While she barreled headfirst into the intricacies of institutional oversight, Kronnis leaned forward to refill his cup and snag another biscuit, hoping to tide himself over until dinner.

Walking down to the Great Hall, his partner on one side and the castle's High Inquisitor on the other, Kronnis felt that they'd done their job well. Umbridge didn't suspect a thing, breezing past the newly-confident faces of Harry's defense group and still prattling on about some sort of educative legislation. Unfortunately, in the coming days this ignorance would prove itself short-lived.

It might've been a spell. It might've been a strange look. Perhaps pressure from the Minister, or simply paranoia, a not-so-outlandish assumption that Harry hadn't heeded the warnings of her educational decree. They couldn't be sure, but Umbridge knew that something was up.

Later that week, they oversaw another meeting of Harry's little defense group. And by 'oversaw', Kronnis meant that they spent long, boring, and uneventful hours lurking in the dark shadows of the seventh-floor corridor, ready to intervene in any sort of inquisition she might spearhead in her motivation to see Harry expelled.

The next day, they saw Umbridge speaking with Filch after breakfast, all smiles and deranged expressions. She complained about the school's rule breakers, and he reminisced about the good old times, when punishments involved stringing the students up by their thumbs. Before Kronnis' very eyes, Filch then all but pledged his loyalty to her cause, his bulging eyes and quivering jowls disturbing to witness as she promised him free reign over some of the resulting detentions.

This development ruined all of Kronnis' half-thought-out plans and fantasies – keeping track of two minds doubled their work, rendering any sort of distracted tomfoolery in hidden alcoves or abandoned classrooms too risky to attempt. Each time Harry updated the fake galleons with the date and time of another meeting, they came prepared with an excuse on their lips and a distraction at their fingertips, ready to intervene if Umbridge or Filch came sniffing around. The most difficult part of this entire debacle was pretending not to notice the incredibly conspicuous groups of children making their way to these meetings.

As Kronnis artfully tossed a few splashes of acid right where their presence would cause Filch a conveniently-timed and psionically-assisted meltdown, he grumbled to himself about how this should've been a paid job. The ill-advised thankful smiles Harry sent their way during Hogwarts' dinners weren't a compensation they could spend on anything.

In other news, there was a newly-recognizable face at Hogwarts. A giant of a man, easily taller than the Emperor, had joined the staff table last night. He looked a bit more… haggard, than he had in Umbridge's mind, but Hagrid didn't let that stop him, sharing boisterous greetings with professors who seemed to know him well. Skimming his surface thoughts revealed the reason for his absence – he'd been off on his own ambassadorial mission, meeting with the giants of Eastern Europe before Voldemort could recruit them to his cause.

It had gone less smoothly than planned – grim news, certainly – but such was the reality of war. Truth and honor were a luxury ill-afforded, whilst underhanded methods delivered results. Kronnis resolved to research the weaknesses of giants when he next visited the library.

Regardless, this dip into Hagrid's mind had also confirmed that he was a member of Dumbledore's Order, newly briefed on their deceptive story and sworn to secrecy. Intelligence that wasn't actionable – they weren't supposed to be poking around in just anyone's minds, especially not members of the Order – until McGonagall had pulled them aside after Transfiguration to clue them in.

But now they knew, officially. And while they knew that he knew, they also knew that he didn't know they knew, or that they knew that he didn't know, or that they knew anything about him at all. In fact-

"This line of thought does not appear very productive," the Emperor interrupted, glancing away from where six-legged salamanders danced in flames as tall as he was to arch a judging brow in Kronnis' direction.

"It is too," he mentally shot back. "Someone has to keep track of our lies. If you're going to lurk in the back of my mind, you should consider offering criticism that's at least constructive."

"I am saving you a migraine. Is that not constructive enough?"

"I think you're just trying to monopolize my attention for yourself."

"In contrast," the Emperor remarked with a hidden smile, "you might find my interruption of your distracted musings more benevolent than assumed. Hagrid is about to have the students draw the Salamanders' blood, and I thought you would enjoy participating." He turned from their silent staring contest and raised a hand from the bonfire's warm aura to point at Hagrid, who was indeed gathering his class around a trunk of thick leather gloves and fire-tempered vials.

His partner's thoughts were correct, and Kronnis was all too happy to wander over and snatch a pair of gloves for himself.

Though third-year material was a bit below his and the Emperor's current level – they'd moved on to Grubbly-Plank's fourth-year lessons months ago – it was the only class Hagrid had today, so they'd attended anyway. Diverting from his substitute's lectures on the inhabitants of the Black Lake, he'd brought them out to a barren stretch of lawn, where a crude firepit had been piled high with branches that almost resembled entire logs. Their ignition had birthed the herd of salamanders that were now being gently coaxed from the fire and into the care of students.

The one that slithered up to Kronnis was a handsomely-streaked red-orange, its skin flickering with heat and untamed magic. Holding it in his hand was like holding the compressed essence of a Fireball, alive in a transient and wild sort of way. He thought it a shame that they only survived for a few hours once they'd left the fires of their home – what a pet this would be!

Hagrid was passionate in a way Grubbly-Plank hadn't been, coaching his class through the bloodletting with intimate understanding of the creatures' needs and an enthusiasm that made up for waning professionalism. The only critique Kronnis might have to offer was that Hagrid seemed incredibly distracted by his and the Emperor's presence, his eyes glued to their forms with intense curiosity.

They'd have to work on that, before Umbridge found a way to squeeze an inspection of his class into her schedule. Balancing her duties as professor with those granted by her appointment to High Inquisitor, it was a wonder she even found the time to plot against Harry.

In any case, the class passed without grievous incident, though minor burns ran rampant amongst those who'd let the salamanders crawl past the protective leather of their gloves. Once Hagrid had dismissed the students and stowed away the collected blood – Snape supposedly needed his stores restocked – they approached the man to suggest a spot of tea, preferably somewhere private.

As luck would have it, Hagrid lived in the strange, abandoned-looking dwelling that squatted by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. "Dumbledore told me 'bout yeh," he said as soon as the door to his hut closed behind them, having visibly struggled to maintain more casual small talk on their walk over. "Always good ter have more help 'gainst You-Know-Who. First bit o' good news I've had in months."

Kronnis hummed in response, fighting his way through years of clutter to join his partner on the uncomfortable wooden chairs Hagrid kept haphazardly spread about a worn table. He would've preferred a seat on the large sofa, but it was currently occupied by a dog of frightening size. Though its lazy eyes were half-hidden by folds of skin, it had shifted its head in their direction, observing with unnerving interest. Or, he thought as soft snores began to echo through the one-room hut, it had simply fallen asleep again.

Hagrid lived… interestingly. His furniture was mismatched, roughly hewn, and scattered. The stone walls were choked with gardening tools and cabinets, their shelves holding jars of all shapes and sizes. Pots, ropes, and small cages hung from the rafters, dangling above a bed that was bigger than the one Kronnis shared with the Emperor.

"I've been away myself. Haven't seen anyone from the Order since early in the summer," Hagrid added after setting a kettle to boil. "Right relief to be back."

"Our contact has been similarly limited. The last meeting we attended was before the start of the semester," the Emperor said. "Too many unexplained absences might raise questions." These words were directed more to Kronnis than Hagrid, an echo of the short argument Rita Skeeter had triggered, with her knowledge of their trips to the Forbidden Forest.

Kronnis had been of the opinion that they figure out which painting had spilled the beans and 'accidentally' set it on fire, but the much simpler solution of exclusively sneaking out through their bedroom window had been decided upon, no matter how suspicious it might appear to be caught leaving the castle in such a way. The chances of that happening were drastically lower than some prefect stumbling across them in Hogwarts' halls.

"Yer sure yeh should be here talkin' to me, then?" Hagrid asked, peeking out through the dirty glass of his own windows with concern.

The Emperor's smile crinkled his eyes. "This is official business. Discussing class material with a professor is hardly abnormal behavior, and further association can be attributed to an interest in your field of study. It is a string of unexplained absences at the same time as Dumbledore that we must avoid."

"Right, official business," Hagrid echoed with his own smile. A sharp whistle from the kettle then interrupted their conversation, and he stood to prepare two cups of tea, offering only an apologetic look in the Emperor's direction. "Sorry that I can't treat yeh to anythin' else. I heard from Molly that yeh can eat organs, but I haven't had the chance to refill my pantry. Too busy hosting all sorts o' visitors," he chuckled.

They brushed off the apology. "You only came back yesterday, right?" Kronnis asked.

"Yeah. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came by, soon as they saw me, and then this Umbridge woman showed up. High Inquisitor, apparently." Hagrid took a deep drink of his tea, likely still as scalding as the cup currently cooling in front of Kronnis.

"She'll be inspecting your classes," he warned. "She's already sacked Binns-"

"She sacked Binns?" Hagrid shouted in dismay. "Why?"

"Mostly because he didn't want to teach what she wanted taught."

Concern brought Hagrid's eyebrows together. "Blimey, Hermione told me not to bring anythin' dangerous for class, but I thought Umbridge might jus' be writin' performance reviews or some such. She's actually sackin' professors?"

Well, from Kronnis' perspective, it was the Emperor who was sacking professors, but Hagrid didn't need to know that.

"Watching your lesson today, I doubt she will find reason to let you go." The Emperor's words smoothed Hagrid's features into a warm smile. "That being said, Hermione's advice is sound. No matter how well you perform during her inspections, an accident may be enough cause for Umbridge to put you on probation."

"Probation?"

Kronnis nodded. "Supposedly time for a professor to show improvement, but more of a threat in reality, warning them to pack their bags. Umbridge almost had Trelawney on probation because she couldn't spit out a prophecy on command, but decided to give her another chance when we told her that Trelawney had made several interesting predictions during a class we'd previously attended."

"That's awfully nice o' her. She didn't seem like the type to give second chances."

"She isn't," the Emperor corrected with amusement. "Umbridge was fully prepared to sack Trelawney. We only have a measure of influence over her because Fudge is trying to make allies of us. Her actions reflect on the Ministry, so she has to think twice before frivolously removing any professors we express a fondness for."

Hagrid frowned. "Then… what happened with Binns?"

The Emperor blinked, his thoughts scattering like the clubs of a juggler suddenly shot dead in the midst of a performance. In his haste to paint himself as Hagrid's protector, he'd inadvertently left a gaping hole in his story. As Kronnis took a sip of his tea, now cooled to a temperature that wouldn't give him second-degree burns, he felt his partner's mind twist to reclaim some semblance of control over the narrative he'd woven.

"She was able to justify his removal," was the explanation chosen. "We attended some of his classes – Binns was old and set in his ways. By all accounts, Umbridge asked him to revise the curriculum to include more information on the Ministry, but he ignored her advice. He was gone the following week."

Hagrid nodded, looking down into his cup. "Aye, he never was good at listenin'. Bit senile, I think. Well, if yeh think I'll do alright I'll stick with what I had planned. Can hardly let the Ministry tell me what to do."

No doubt the Ministry would have him teaching about flobberworms, and Kronnis had no intention of going back to those kinds of lessons. "What exactly do you have planned?"

"What year's classes are yeh attending?" Hagrid asked instead of answering. "Just the third-years?"

"I think we were going to start attending the fifth-year lessons next month?" Kronnis replied, glancing at the Emperor for confirmation of their plans.

Eyes alit with enthusiasm, Hagrid leaned over the table before it could be given. "Yeh want to know what I have planned for them? Ah-" A booming laugh thundered through the room. "Nevermind – don't want to spoil the surprise for yeh!"

"There must be something you can share!" he demanded. How incredibly cruel, to dangle information like that. Hagrid should consider himself lucky that Kronnis had more integrity than his partner – for anything even a smidge more serious, he might be tempted to sate his curiosity with stolen thoughts, promises of privacy be damned.

"How 'bout I tell yeh 'bout some of the other creatures 'round Hogwarts," Hagrid offered after pausing to run thick fingers through his beard. "No one knows as much 'bout them as me."

This wasn't a fair compromise, but Hagrid's words had reminded Kronnis of another mystery. An argument had months ago, and never resolved. "Grubbly-Plank must've skipped over it in her lessons – what's the creature in the Black Lake?"

"The kelpies? Merfolk? Grindylows?"

He kept shaking his head. "The big one."

"Oh, the giant squid!" Hagrid exclaimed, unknowingly inciting a mental clash of triumph and dismay.

The Emperor might've been unwilling to look at Kronnis' smug smile, but he couldn't escape the emotion as it crept through their connection. "There is not a giant squid in that lake," he denied. "It is nowhere near large enough to house such a creature."

"There sure is. The students domesticated it over time, yeh can even feed it. I take the seventh-years down to see it in the spring – it's a real beauty."

"It's a-" the Emperor broke off, shaking his head with disbelief. "How big is it?"

Hagrid hummed in thought. "Bit shy o' twenty meters, I think."

"And how many tentacles does it have?"

"Two, technically. The other eight are called arms."

Approval flashed from behind the clouds of the Emperor's mind, reforming skepticism into a grudging admittance that he might've been wrong. Hagrid was passing some sort of squid knowledge test. "What does it eat?"

"Toast."

Nevermind. Kronnis suppressed a laugh at the Emperor's instant eruption of incredulity.

"It does not," he insisted.

Hagrid gulped down another mouthful of tea and shrugged. "It does, that's what we feed it when we visit. Mind, I'm sure it normally eats fish, plenty o' that in the lake, but the water's so murky that its near impossible to see when yeh go for a swim. Makes it hard to investigate. I know it's not eatin' the merfolk or grindylow, though. Woulda heard complaints about that."

"Can you even swim in that lake?" Kronnis asked. "I thought grindylow were aggressive."

"They don't hang out near the shallows, but I still wouldn't recommend it. Ruddy cold, especially this time o' year. And yeh want to be careful if yer swimmin' with the giant squid," Hagrid warned. "Its suckers have sharp bits that'll tear yeh right up."

"I thought you said it was domesticated?"

"It is, but it's still an animal – doesn't know any better. Yeh wouldn't blame a hedgehog if you pet it the wrong way and spike your finger, would yeh?"

While the Emperor grumbled his agreement, once again assigning a passing grade to Hagrid's knowledge of giant squid, Kronnis focused on a different fact. "What do you mean by 'sharp bits'?"

"The suckers are lined with cartilage or chitin o' some sort, I reckon. Helps with holdin' onto prey." Hagrid turned to the Emperor. "Actually, I thought you might have somethin' similar?" His voice lowered to a secretive whisper. "Dumbledore gave me the- er, the rundown."

"Illithids have no genetic link to cephalopods," the Emperor immediately corrected. "Sharing visually similar characteristics is simply a case of convergent evolution."

Hagrid nodded, eager to absorb this information. "Y'know, I figure its uncomfortable to be stuck like that all day," he then slowly said. "Yeh don't have to keep that cowl on in here, no one's gonna be peakin' through these windows."

Having inspected their thick filth earlier, Kronnis agreed. And it was actually rather sweet – Hagrid didn't have a deceptive bone in him. His words carried a genuine concern beside the curiosity evident in his demeanor. One that he could hardly be faulted for, when every witch and wizard in Great Britain wanted the same thing, beset by an intrusive nosiness. He was nicer about it than Rita, at least. She'd never know how fortunate she was to escape Hogwarts with her life.

The Emperor evidently thought the same, and only spared a second to flare his mind, searching their surroundings for nearby minds before seizing the opportunity to uncramp his tentacles. Claws grabbed his veil and yanked it from its fastenings. "It is," he confirmed, allowing sore muscles the indulgence of a dignified poise. "I regret the need for this – an illusion truly would have been easier to maintain."

"You'd have been lucky if it even lasted one month," Kronnis pointed out. "Some student would've carelessly turned a corner and run right into you, and then our entire narrative would've shattered into a million pieces. At least this way you have an excuse for hiding your face, should anything happen. Your track record isn't great."

"Aye," Hagrid agreed, his eyes glued to the length of the Emperor's face. "The sunlight sensitivity is a smart story."

"As much as I wish it were a story, it is not." The Emperor gestured to the far side of Hagrid's hut, where the setting sun bloomed in a fiery glow, its light struggling to filter through a grimy window. "Illithids despise the sun – entire colonies are dedicated to the pursuit of extinguishing its light. A futile prospect, but given that it desiccates our skin and blinds us, I can understand their motivation."

"Really?" Hagrid looked even more curious now. "I thought it was to help yeh pass as somethin' a bit closer to human. I'm sure yeh've noticed that wizards and witches are… less than accepting of half-breeds, and magical creatures."

Kronnis chuckled, thinking on all the inner thoughts and private comments they'd overheard. Even the nicest people had unconscious biases. "You're right, that was the main reason, but he would've had to cover up outside anyway." He nodded to the veil, discarded on the table. "This just solves both problems at once."

"Well, I hope it's helped some," Hagrid said. "It must be difficult for the both of yeh. I never had much of a problem, 'till Rita Skeeter spilled the beans 'bout me being a half-giant."

"Rita Skeeter, you say?" the Emperor asked, last week's newly-born distaste developing into some sort of nebulously malicious intention.

Eyes downcast as though remembering something painfully uncomfortable, Hagrid nodded. "Aye, she had a lot o' nasty things to say."

"She wasn't exactly nice to us either," Kronnis grumbled.

"Oh?"

"She was here last week for an interview. Spent a lot of time trying to get us to admit to something that she could put a spin on."

Hagrid frowned. "She's a tricky one. Don't even know how she found out 'bout me bein' a half-giant, but I suppose it might've been a lucky guess."

The Emperor's tentacles curled in thought. "I think it more likely that she had an informant," he said, recently familiar with her methods. "Though, using paintings to spy on you would be difficult, seeing as you live here, and not in the castle."

"I still go up for meals. Usually only dinner – too far to walk for lunch." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter anyway. Wasn't much of a secret, but it's out now. Can't take that back."

Watching Hagrid pretend as though it didn't bother him to be treated rudely for his parentage, Kronnis made eye contact with his partner. They themselves were isolated from such struggles, their faked identities making them nigh untouchable, but they knew all too well the undue prejudice people held in their minds, and how ready they were to unleash it upon those who couldn't defend themselves. Umbridge's words were still fresh – her implication that Hagrid was dangerous, just for being a half-giant.

Kronnis had seen no evidence of this, and wasn't about to let the Ministry relieve Hagrid of a job he clearly loved. "There's still some time before dinner now, would you mind if we stay a bit longer? I think it's only fair that we let you ask some of those questions I'm sure you're burning to ask."

"Of course!" Hagrid eagerly exclaimed, before looking faintly embarrassed. "Erm, I mean, I don't mean to be rude…"

"Nonsense," the Emperor said, projecting a false openness as he prepared himself to shoulder the brunt of Hagrid's fascination. His allergy against sharing personal details wasn't likely to mesh well with the man's enthusiasm for all things inhuman, but Kronnis knew his partner would do anything to ensure the realization of his objectives, and a new plot was currently brewing in their heads. "You shared plenty about yourself. It is only fair to return the favor."

There was silence for a moment. "Dumbledore told me a bit 'bout ceremphosis," Hagrid eventually started. Shyly, but with growing confidence. "He didn't really have all the details though…"

"Ceremorphosis," the Emperor corrected, "is an incredibly complicated process, and almost entirely a mystery to most denizens of even our own world. It starts with the Elder Brain…"

His person almost forgotten beside the mesmerizing allure that the Emperor's stories and explanations wove, Kronnis silently finished his cup of tea and then the rest of the pot. He didn't mind – watching the elegant gesticulations of tentacle and claw was mesmerizing in its own sort of way – but he did wish that Hagrid would add something to his tea to make it more palatable.

The drink was boldly bitter, in contrast to the sweet and mild flavors that Umbridge had served him. Earnest in a way that fit the half-giant, and missing the additives she'd used to disguise the beverage's essential essences.

Kronnis would've personally served something in between. Truth, with a hint of honeyed deception.

It was dark by the time they returned to Hogwarts. This far north, the sun set earlier than Kronnis was accustomed to, and it was extinguished sooner each day as winter's shadow grew on the horizon.

The Emperor's mood always shifted to a brighter confidence once the sun died. Something instinctual, perhaps. A satisfaction that the rest of the world – his prey – had now been rendered blind and vulnerable. Weak, where he was strong. Night turned the tables, favoring monsters who lurked in the shadows.

Kronnis understood. He felt a similar relief when blessedly cool darkness eased the strain upon his eyes.

They'd walked up with Hagrid, entering the Great Hall together. Focused as he was on the show they were putting on, Kronnis only caught glimpses of Umbridge's face, a fascinating canvas of emotion where indifference warred against grimacing contempt. He asked another question on the care of hippogriff plumage, receiving in return a boisterously friendly response about the preening habits of herds and a joke about ruffled feathers. The Emperor responded with an unnaturally warm laugh as they approached the staff table, one that Kronnis alone knew to be just a little bit forced.

Their association with a known half-breed watered the dark clouds of disgust hanging over Umbridge's mind, until the emotion bled onto her features, her mouth thinning into the lips of a toad. Her desire to snap them up with a lash of her tongue was obvious, so she might bring them into the depths of the Ministry's influence. Trapped by a web of politics, however, she could only vent frustration through the fork in her hand and then fake politeness when they parted from Hagrid to settle next to her.

Kronnis hoped she didn't think she was being subtle when she asked them about how that man's class had been – it was a rather transparent act. They pretended to ignore the subtext, speaking highly of Hagrid's knowledge and class engagement, only barely exaggerated. His unprofessionalism wasn't mentioned.

This was a plan they'd finalized on the way up, a private conversation that Hagrid had been excluded from. Kronnis rather liked the professor, and if the Emperor intended to keep up his hobby of directing the staff of Hogwarts like a collection of puppets then he might as well invest some of that effort into protecting those more vulnerable to Umbridge's influence.

Harry's back again next chapter with front row seats for Hagrid vs Umbridge... vs Kronnis and the Emperor?