"Minister of Magic, Senior Undersecretary, two Department Heads."
"Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Head of International Magical Cooperation... quite a lineup."
On the morning of Boxing Day, Professor Flitwick stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, holding a glass of milk and clicking his tongue in amazement.
The sudden news had startled all Ministry employees who hadn't yet gone on holiday. Leaving a skeleton crew on duty, the rest had hurried over. Aurors in black robes lined the Entrance Hall and corridors. Ghosts drifted past nonchalantly, whispering among themselves as they went.
"Well, there goes a peaceful breakfast."
"Just sit and eat. Let the Headmaster handle the conversation; you don't need to engage," Melvin said, eyeing the crowded High Table.
Fudge and Umbridge had reached a tacit understanding without even speaking. Before sitting down, they subtly adjusted the seating arrangement.
Originally, Dumbledore's seat was in the center. After the adjustment, it looked as though Fudge and Umbridge were the guests of honor, while Dumbledore was relegated to a supporting role, and Professor McGonagall was pushed even further to the side.
Anyone who didn't know better would think those two were the headmasters.
None of the professors or staff present were fools; these petty maneuvers were plain to see. The professors didn't care about such tricks and found them amusing, while Madam Bones and Mr. Crouch felt secondhand embarrassment and disdain.
"Forget it, let's sit on the side."
Professor Flitwick put down his hot milk, moved a high stool to the outer edge, and scrambled up onto it. Turning his head, he caught the teasing looks from Sprout and Melvin and glared at them.
"What are you two looking at?"
"Dumbledore lost his seat, how come you still have a reserved one?"
"..."
Before the part-goblin professor could snatch away all the jam and leave them eating dry bread, Melvin secured the cranberry sauce and moved it out of Flitwick's reach. Smiling, he said, "Eat up. We have to go to the dungeons later."
Melvin and Pomona are getting more annoying by the day. Professor Flitwick puffed his mustache.
During breakfast, Professor McGonagall did most of the talking, explaining the situation while omitting the part about the Time-Turner. Dumbledore mostly smiled and spoke little.
The Ministry officials had likely eaten beforehand; their minds weren't on food but focused entirely on the conflict between Sirius and Peter.
The professors ate silently. Melvin and Flitwick refrained from discussing magic or cracking bad jokes, but as they finished their bread, they inevitably became part of the conversation.
Crouch, sitting on the other side, turned his head. "Professor Levent, long time no see. I heard you and Professor Snape caught the two of them together?"
Melvin recognized him immediately: Barty Crouch Sr., Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, former Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and once a candidate for Minister. His career had been derailed by his son, the Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr.
But he wasn't innocent. He had used Polyjuice Potion to swap his dying wife for his imprisoned son, who was currently locked up in the Crouch home, controlled by the Imperius Curse and potions until his mind was nearly destroyed.
Refusing to stay home and prepare for the holiday feast, Crouch had come to Hogwarts to deal with matters unrelated to his department, likely to avoid facing his "insane" son.
On the other side, Crouch and Madam Bones were also observing the professors—specifically, the young professor, Melvin Levent.
Black hair, dark eyes, a faint smile, and an air of youthfulness. He sat there silently, holding a glass of milk in one hand and bread in the other, eating without much regard for etiquette.
Aside from his handsome appearance, he seemed unremarkable.
Yet as they waited for his answer, no one could ignore the influence hidden behind him: founder of the Mirror Club, consultant to the Wizarding Examinations Authority, holder of an Order of Merlin and a Medal of Valor. His power extended throughout Britain and reached into the New World, France, Hungary, and Romania...
Their previous meetings had been hurried, either at trials or banquets. Before they realized it, he had become a figure comparable to legendary wizards.
Umbridge wore a sickly sweet smile, but her eyes looked at Melvin with venom.
This guy. Despite not having an Apparition license and using magic illegally, he stubbornly exploited legal loopholes and claimed she had no evidence.
He had caused her to lose face in the wizarding world. Many wizards treated her, the Senior Undersecretary, as a joke. Malfoy hadn't even sent her an invitation to his Boxing Day party.
Melvin swallowed his bread and washed it down with milk. "It was mainly Professor Snape's credit. He noticed clues we had overlooked and used his wisdom to the fullest."
"Professor McGonagall and the others provided a lot of help too," Madam Bones said with a smile. "Susan always mentions you, Mr. Levent. Muggle Studies is a very meaningful subject; we ignored its value in the past."
"Susan is a kind and upright girl, unaffected by long-standing pure-blood prejudices."
"..."
The two sides exchanged pleasantries like teachers and parents.
Snape listened to their vacuous chatter without expression, his eyes devoid of emotion.
Melvin was a responsible professor. After chatting about students, he steered the conversation back to the case. "Professor McGonagall has already explained the details. Capturing the fugitive and solving the case was entirely Professor Snape's achievement. I have no objections."
"..." He's being sarcastic, Snape thought.
"I just wonder when the Ministry will retry the cases of Black and Peter. Barnabas Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet, cooperates with me. Perhaps we can track and report the whole process through the newspaper and the Mirrors, allowing wizards to learn the truth faster."
Melvin's words were directed at the Minister.
Fudge's eyes lit up. He didn't care about the truth; he just wanted to minimize trouble and earn a good reputation.
What did Black's injustice or Peter's coercion matter compared to fame and power?
Correcting the mistakes made by the previous administration would make him look good. Exposing the fraud Peter as a Death Eater, clearing poor Sirius's name, and having reporters emphasize his achievements—he might even revoke Peter's Order of Merlin and award it to himself.
"My esteemed Minister, he is making a fool of you..."
Umbridge was a qualified Undersecretary, perfectly attuned to Fudge's thoughts. One glance at his expression told her everything.
If it were any other matter, she might have pushed it along to help Fudge achieve his goals and profit herself. But this involved Hogwarts, and Melvin...
She leaned in and whispered in Fudge's ear, "Minister, don't forget, they caught Black and Peter. Hogwarts uncovered the truth. If this is publicly reported... do you remember how those wizards slandered you two years ago?"
Dumbledore's mouthpiece?
An incompetent straw bag of a Minister?
Fudge's face stiffened. He had risen to power with Dumbledore's recommendation. Initially, his power was unstable, and he had to ask for help whenever problems arose. Occasionally drinking at Madam Rosmerta's, the gossip he heard was harsh.
Through his own long and arduous efforts, he had finally shaken off Dumbledore's influence and shed those nasty labels in the last two years.
Realizing everyone was staring at the head of the table awaiting his answer, Fudge straightened his face and cleared his throat.
"Albus, Professors, I am truly grateful to Hogwarts for solving this huge headache for me. It's plagued me for six months, and now I'm finally free of it. Believe me, I am more willing than anyone to hold a trial and resolve all issues."
"Yes, the Minister has lost sleep over the Black case..." Umbridge covered her mouth and let out a few fake, girlish giggles.
"However, this case has a huge impact and involves a wide range of issues. I must handle other troubles first. You know, notifying the Muggle Prime Minister, digging through archives to identify the officials who arrested Black back then, notifying the Order of Merlin to discuss revoking Peter's medal... I also need to communicate with Azkaban to decide whether to hold Black accountable for escaping, even if he had compelling reasons..."
Fudge spoke at a measured pace, weighing his words. "It is still the Christmas holiday. Most Ministry staff are on leave, so it will have to wait for a while."
The High Table fell silent.
Not only were the Hogwarts professors staring at him, but the two Ministry Department Heads looked baffled. Crouch and Madam Bones turned to look at Fudge and Umbridge.
Continuing to wrong an innocent man and buying time for a Death Eater? Do you think your reputation in the wizarding world is too good?
Umbridge lowered her head, her eyes narrowing in a smile.
Merlin above, these are the Minister's own thoughts. I only helped analyze the situation; I didn't offer any specific suggestions.
This wouldn't bring her any profit, but seeing this group of uncontrollable Hogwarts staff frustrated, and preventing Levent from achieving his goals, brought her immense satisfaction—satisfaction that Galleons couldn't buy.
The smile in Dumbledore's eyes faded. Frowning, he asked, "Cornelius, if the trial must wait until the holidays end, that is an internal Ministry matter, and Hogwarts will not interfere. But the Dementors patrolling outside—can they be withdrawn?"
"Well... I hope you understand, Albus. I want to remove them."
Fudge paused, speaking unnaturally. "But those creatures are very troublesome. They don't understand human speech and only obey Azkaban officials. With it being the Christmas holiday, half the staff are on leave, and the rest need to guard the prison. After all, there are dozens of Death Eaters there."
Dumbledore nodded. "So... that also needs to wait until the holidays end?"
"Yes. I assure you, the moment the holidays are over, I'll have someone remove those annoying creatures."
"..."
Melvin laughed in exasperation.
It seemed that after spending so much time with Umbridge, Fudge had caught the "toad's disease"—no claws or fur, lying on your foot doing no real damage, just purely disgusting.
"Very well. The children won't return to school until the holidays are over anyway."
Dumbledore's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "However, Cornelius, I must remind you. Our professors are teaching the students the Patronus Charm. Beginners often lack control. Dementors are monsters that don't understand human speech. If a conflict arises and a Patronus scatters the Dementors elsewhere, it could have worse consequences."
"Letting underage students master the Patronus Charm?"
Fudge waved his hand dismissively as if hearing a joke. "Don't worry, Albus. I will definitely remove the Dementors on time. The children won't be frightened."
He wasn't entirely brushing them off. The Dementors were only patrolling outside the school to blockade and monitor Dumbledore; they weren't intended to trouble ordinary students.
"Anyway, let us take Black and Peter first. We'll discuss everything else after the holidays," Fudge said in a crisp, fast tone. "Thank you to Hogwarts for your contribution."
---
Iron-rimmed wheels crunched over the hard, cold snow as the Thestral-drawn carriages set off slowly toward the Ministry of Magic in London.
There were six carriages in total. The two in the middle were prisoner transports. The rear one held Peter Pettigrew, with Madam Bones and Crouch following behind it.
A Death Eater spy who betrayed his friends, framed an innocent man, and evaded justice for twelve years was a priority for the Aurors at any time.
Sirius sat in the front prisoner carriage. Harry had gotten out of bed and was standing by the road, sniffing his red, frozen nose. When Sirius pulled back the curtain and stuck his head out, Harry wiped his face and forced a smile, waving at the carriage.
"I don't know what Fudge is thinking. Clearing the name and revealing the truth sooner would be better. But no, he has to drag it out until after the holidays. Poor Sirius has to be locked in a Ministry holding cell for a week."
Sprout muttered complaints, occasionally dropping coarse slang, showing she was truly angry.
Standing on the steps of the Entrance Hall, Melvin watched them leave with a calm expression. Curious, he asked, "Speaking of which, why must prisoners be transported by carriage instead of Portkeys or the Floo Network? Doesn't that make it easier for others to attack?"
Historically, the infamous Grindelwald had been arrested in America early on and transported by carriage. His followers attacked en route, allowing Grindelwald to escape and nearly burn down Paris later.
"I don't know... probably some ancient regulation," Professor Flitwick said, also finding it strange.
"If you're interested, go ask Professor Binns." Snape turned to walk back inside.
"Severus..." Melvin called out to him. "Meet me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest this evening. It's Boxing Day, and Hagrid is hosting a simple bonfire party. I'm formally inviting you again."
"Boring." Snape didn't look back, too lazy to respond.
"Don't forget, you owe me a life debt," Melvin said slowly.
Snape turned around and stared straight at him, brows furrowing, his eyes flashing with a very impolite look.
Sprout had wanted to ask why she wasn't invited to the bonfire party, but hearing this, she suddenly remembered she had things to do in the greenhouse and tugged at Flitwick.
Flitwick cleared his throat, suddenly feigning interest in the carriage issue. "I'll go find Professor Binns."
The two turned and walked away, but their steps were slow, ears pricked for what was happening behind them.
Snape's lips trembled with rage. Thinking carefully, Melvin had brought them back from the spacetime rift, which indeed counted as saving their lives. As one of the rescued, he did owe a life debt.
"You're using that to make me go to a party?"
"Don't be late."
---