'Illegal?' Dumbledore interjected calmly before Harry could, shooting him a warning glance. 'This list is dated from before the relevant educational decree was passed, it's existence is not proof of anything at all.'
How he had managed to read it upside down at such a distance confused Harry until he realised that Dumbledore was maintaining eye contact with the Minister.
How clever, Harry admired.
'I suppose that hardly matters,' Fudge dismissed, dropping the list, 'your crimes are far worse, Dumbledore.'
Umbridge spared no seconds in retrieving her precious proof, tucking inside her cardigan possessively. Harry smothered a smile, clearly the command he had conveyed to Marietta to imply that the list was much more important than it seemed had come across perfectly. 'My crimes,' Dumbledore mused evenly, as if their existence remained a complete and utter mystery to him.
'You've been plotting against me,' Fudge cried. 'Raising an army to overthrow the Ministry by manipulating The-Boy-Who-Lived and your students.' Harry blinked, he seemed to have gone from criminal to victim in the span of a few sentences.
'Indeed I have,' Dumbledore agreed pleasantly. Harry tried his hardest to look as horrified as the other three, but he was sure that the expression hadn't convincingly materialised on his face.
'That's a confession,' Fudge blustered. 'You will be taken into custody, formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await a trail.'
Well, Harry mused, that's more than Sirius got. 'That sounds awfully tedious, Cornelius,' Dumbledore said gently, 'I can think of a very long list of things that I would rather spend my time doing. Are you sure you want to insist on this foolishness?'
Fudge sputtered in surprise. Apparently there had been several leaps of assumption made between the Headmaster's Office and Azkaban, one of which being Dumbledore's acquiescence. Harry didn't care either way. Albus Dumbledore would not be headmaster of Hogwarts whether he was taken to the Ministry and charged or whether he chose to flee. The first of his dominoes had fallen successfully.
'Dawlish,' Umbridge snapped, her smile gone, and a horrible, angry, crimson flush rising steadily up her neck. The colour clashed nastily with her cardigan. One of the aurors, an average looking mad in a grey coat, shifted casually, his hand drifting innocently towards his chest.
'Don't be silly, Dawlish,' the headmaster smiled kindly. 'I remember you being an excellent student and I'm sure you are a fabulous auror, but if you do something foolish I will not feel responsible for the consequences.'
'Do you intend to duel the Minister, myself and two aurors?' Umbridge demanded shrilly.
'Only if you are insistent upon continuing with this madness,' Dumbledore responded, his tone hardening for the first time.
'We're not intimidated,' Umbridge responded. Fudge was noticeably silent.
The grey-coated auror's hand shifted another inch and suddenly Dumbledore's wand was in the air, a succession of blinding flashes filling the room, blinding everyone.
Harry glimpsed Dawlish go flying backwards, even as Umbridge and Fudge crumpled either side of him. He suppressed the instinct to draw his own wand, listening intently for any sounds as he struggled to blink the spots from his vision.
There was a crash, the sound of shattering glass, then silence and Harry was treated to the sight of the four Ministry officials spread across the floor. A trickle of blood crept down the forehead of the auror whose name Harry did not know. The shelves behind Dumbledore had been destroyed, the delicate silver instruments strewn in pieces across the floor.
Fawkes trilled regretfully, and Dumbledore tucked away his pale wand, frowning at the destruction of his office. 'They will be awake soon,' he said evenly, as if the events that had taken place were no more than a slight disagreement.
'Will you go back to the headquarters?' Ron blurted.
Grimmauld Place, Harry realised.
He hoped not, Dumbledore's presence there would set him back again, he'd have to find a new way into the Department of Mysteries and Sirius might not be able to keep the secret from the headmaster if he was around to use legilimency.
'No.' Dumbledore shook his head and Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief. 'I will use this chance to get a breath of fresh air from the school grounds. I might go visit the countryside, or perhaps catch some sea air.'
'What do we do?' Hermione asked quietly. 'You stay here, Miss Granger,' Dumbledore instructed firmly. 'Even if I am not headmaster the castle's wards make it one of the safest places in Britain. Besides,' he added, absently stepping over Fudge's outstretched form, 'I have little doubt that I will return to being headmaster soon enough.'
'Harry.' Dumbledore turned to look directly at him, his bright, electric blue eyes fixed on Harry's own. He felt the connection form between their minds, faint, but evident, and swiftly cleared every thought from his head. 'You have made good progress,' Dumbledore nodded gently. 'Continue practising please, it is more important than you can imagine.'
Fawkes gave another trilling sound, then leapt from his perch into the air, clasping Dumbledore's left hand in his talons. 'One moment, Fawkes,' the former headmaster said, even as Dawlish began to stir. He extended his free hand to retrieve the bowl of lemon drops on his desk, winking gently at the four of them. The phoenix warbled with amusement, then they both vanished in a flash of red fire that seared at Harry's unprepared eyes.
The four of them stood there helplessly, waiting for the Minister and his aurors to come around. At this point Harry no longer cared what happened. He was not going to be expelled, not yet, and Dumbledore was gone, driven from the school by a single piece of paper. Harry rather felt he'd done a better job than Tom Riddle had. He remained unsuspected, and he hadn't had to possess or petrify a single student either.
'Where is he,' Dawlish yelled, staggering to his feet. 'Proudfoot.' He shook his partners arm until the wizard rose to his feet, drawing his wand. 'He can't have apparated,' Proudfoot replied groggily, 'check the stairs.'
Dawlish was gone immediately, wand in hand, but Proudfoot remained behind to help Fudge to his feet and retrieve his hat. Umbridge was left to dust herself down.
'Return these children to their dormitory, Dolores,' Fudge instructed. 'We will discuss the situation at length in your office when you return.'
'I'm sure they can make their own way back, Minister,' Umbridge simpered.
'Very well then,' Fudge blustered, making condescending shooing gestures, 'off to bed with you four. Let this be a lesson that not all figures of authority are correct and to be blindly believed in like we did in Dumbledore. I used to listen to his advice all the time,' Fudge continued shaking his head, 'sometimes you simply shouldn't trust them, no matter how innocent they might appear.'
They began to make their way towards the door, but Fudge reached out and caught Harry's arm. 'I'm sorry about all that nonsense in the Prophet, my boy,' he apologised, fixing a smile on his face. 'Dolores has mentioned that you've not corroborated any of Dumbledore's absurd claims, but the papers tend to get carried away. Rita Skeeter made up all sorts of rubbish, it cost my friends their careers in some cases.'
'Thank you, Minister,' Harry answered politely, trying very hard not to laugh at the man's pathetic attempt to gain from what little glamour The-Boy-Who-Lived might still be able to offer him. 'I'll take your lesson to heart,' he added, smiling with poisonous innocence.
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