Within the Sprout Family estate, Robert calmed the anger in his chest, silently analyzing how to break the deadlock.
"I must not only handle the hearing issue, but also clear the rumors that are slandering my aunt and our family.
Prejudice is a mountain rooted in people's hearts. I don't want the Sprout Family to carry the weight of public bias."
He dipped his head into a bowl of water.
The Water Enhancement charm activated.
His thoughts accelerated as if the water sharpened his mind.
Ideas surged through him.
"The core of this scandal lies in my aunt's identity.
As a respected Herbology Master and Hufflepuff Dean, people love to watch the downfall of esteemed figures.
But in the end, she's just an educator. From my past life, I know scandals in the education world never draw as much attention as a minor political one."
"To shift attention, I need a more explosive, attention-grabbing event.
Clarifying the truth doesn't work. People chase drama, not facts.
The key to cleaning a reputation is empathy—make the public stand with the victim, and they'll naturally defend them."
"So what can I do?"
"I'm just an eleven-year-old first-year wizard. I can speak and act in ways adult wizards cannot.
That is my advantage."
A clarity dawned in his eyes. Robert's gaze hardened, his tone calm yet resolute.
"Now I just need the right opportunity."
Right then, two sharp Apparition pops sounded outside the estate.
Lis, the loyal house-elf, immediately turned alert.
"Young Master, someone's here! They're wearing Ministry of Magic badges! Quick—leave! I'll block them!"
But Robert's eyes gleamed.
An opportunity had arrived.
The only question was—could he seize it?
Closing his eyes, he recalled his recent combat in the Forbidden Forest, his training duels with Professor Snape, and his sessions with Lis.
That flowing combat rhythm, letting magic move through him like a dancer.
Thousands of repetitions had forged his instinct.
"I can seize it."
He clasped his hands in his sleeves, fingers around his Ashwood wand, mentally rehearsing his every move, every line he might say.
Moments later, two Ministry employees walked in, cold and formal.
"Robert Sprout. The Ministry of Magic requests your presence at the hearing.
Your aunt, Pomona Sprout, is already there. Come with us."
Robert widened his eyes, pretending fear.
"Who are you? Can you prove you're real Ministry staff?
Show me documents."
He backed away cautiously.
One of the Ministry employees, already annoyed, pulled out his wand.
"Come with us now. No time for games. I'll count to three—"
Before he could finish, Robert let out a terrified scream.
"Kidnappers! Dark wizards! Impersonating Ministry officials to chop me into pieces?!"
The men froze.
Then—boom!
Robert silently cast Levicorpus, launching one of them into the air.
In the same beat, he landed a hard punch.
"Ah! So scary! Dark wizards are terrifying!"
The floating wizard blacked out instantly.
Who's cruel now? was his last conscious thought.
The other officer, visibly panicked, tried to respond. He flung Stupefy and Expelliarmus at Robert.
Robert moved like water—evasive, swift.
"Magic is my heartbeat. My breath. My blood."
Weaving through spells, Robert closed the gap between them.
The second officer fumbled his incantation. Too late.
Thud! Robert's fist knocked him out.
He took a breath, looking down at the unconscious men.
All those combat drills—worth it.
But there was no time to celebrate.
He went back to mentally rehearsing.
At the hearing, half an hour had passed since Umbridge claimed she was summoning Robert as a witness.
Murmurs filled the chamber. Minister Fudge threw her an impatient look.
Umbridge scowled, annoyed.
She was just about to send backup when—
Bang!
The chamber doors flung open.
A tiny boy walked in.
Floating behind him—two grown Ministry officers dangling like chickens, held effortlessly by a House-elf.
"Robert?!" cried Professor Sprout.
"Auntie!" Robert shouted, breathless and excited. "Two men tried to kidnap me! Said they were Ministry staff, tried to drag me off—so I knocked them out!"
The hall was stunned.
Robert gestured animatedly, swinging the men around midair.
The spectacle left everyone speechless.
Umbridge's face turned purple.
"LIES! You attacked Ministry officials! You'll be punished!"
Robert blinked in exaggerated confusion.
"Wait... you're a Ministry official? They are? Who could tell?
Anyone can say that. If a toad in a pink dress can run a hearing, why not them too?"
The entire chamber burst into laughter.
Even seasoned Aurors stifled grins.
Umbridge shot up, livid.
"You—you dare insult Ministry staff?! Who raised you?!"
The room fell silent again.
Robert tilted his head innocently.
"So these are real Ministry employees?"
He pointed at the two unconscious men.
"They got beaten by a first-year. Either I'm a prodigy or... your hiring process is trash."
Laughter rippled again.
Robert added fuel.
"Minister Fudge, if these people can't beat a child, maybe the backdoor hiring rumors are true?"
Gasps echoed. Flashbulbs flashed.
The Daily Prophet journalists were practically drooling.
Ministry corruption? Child prodigy? Hiring scandals?
Now this was news.
Umbridge tried to save face.
"They were officially hired through proper channels!"
Robert raised a brow.
"Through proper channels? So properly hired officials were floored by an eleven-year-old?"
She tried again.
"There was no 'backdoor.' Everything is transparent—"
"Transparent?" Robert echoed. "So transparent you forgot to check if they can even duel?"
By now, Fudge's temples throbbed.
Robert tilted his head again.
"Toad Lady, are you protecting them because you let them in?"
The hearing room howled with laughter.
Umbridge slammed the table.
"Robert Sprout! You are here as a witness. You are not allowed to ask questions—"
A deep voice interrupted her.
"Is that so?"
The room turned dead silent.
An old white-haired man walked in calmly, his robes embroidered with the seal of the Wizengamot.
"Madam Umbridge," the man said, "I've presided over trials for decades.
Since when does a witness lose the right to speak?"
Everyone straightened in their seats.
Dumbledore.
No—Chief Warlock Dumbledore.
Umbridge paled. Her voice wavered.
"Chief Warlock Dumbledore..."
"Indeed," he said gently. "And as Chief Warlock, I do have the right to ask if the Ministry's hiring process involves... what was the term? 'Backdoor dealings'?"
The color drained from Fudge's face. He stood quickly.
"We'll investigate. This is, after all, just a hearing about academic unfairness—"
Dumbledore smiled.
"Very well. Then let's continue."
Umbridge forced herself back into the lead.
"Mr. Robert Sprout. Records show you performed the same spell thousands of times over several days without rest.
Do you admit this?"
Robert smirked.
"So you want me to perform like a circus monkey now?"
He pulled out a Daily Prophet issue.
"Well, rumor has it you have a pink, lace-filled office.
Psychologists say people who decorate like that are often hypocrites.
Oh, and some say you only got this far thanks to... special relations with Minister Fudge."
The crowd gasped.
Umbridge shrieked.
"Lies!"
Fudge turned green.
"You're damaging my reputation!"
Robert blinked innocently.
"Am I? If you want to prove me wrong, why not hold a press conference where you share your daily schedules?"
He continued.
"You used rumors to slander my aunt. Why can't I do the same to you?"
Gasps. Laughter. Journalists feverishly wrote it all down.
Fudge and Umbridge scrambled backstage.
"Handle this! He's a kid—how could you let him ruin us?" Fudge hissed.
Robert's voice rang from the chamber.
"What are you two whispering about? From here, it looks like you're kissing!
Merlin's beard, Minister Fudge, you poor soul!"
Backstage, Fudge gagged.
Umbridge returned, shaken but pretending calm.
"Robert Sprout. What do you want? What will it take for you to cooperate?"
Robert answered coldly.
"Fairness. Just fairness."
"I cast the Frequency Light Spell. I discovered the Piranha Algae reaction. I planted the Guardian Tree.
And you slandered me, humiliated my family, dragged us through the mud."
He looked directly at her.
"You want me to wave my wand? Fine.
But for every wave, you write 'fairness' on paper.
If I don't eat, you don't. If I don't sleep, neither do you."
"If you can't do that, then let 'fairness' be etched into your skin until it hurts.
Until you finally learn what it means."
He turned to Dumbledore.
"Is there magic for that?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.
"Of course. A magical contract will suffice."
With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured the parchment.
Robert didn't hesitate. He bit his finger, stamped the page, and looked at Umbridge.
"I've signed.
You?"
"Dare?"
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