[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 54

TN: short one today

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"Looks like we have no clues," summarized Marina Nikolaevna after visiting the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey had only thrown up her hands, explaining she hadn't had time to do anything. All she’d heard was the phoenix's song and seen a glow. By the time she reached Dumbledore’s bed, he had vanished without a trace.

"Yeah, that’s no Apparition—you can’t track it," muttered Berkley, habitually tracing his scar with the tip of his index finger. "And now, where the old man might pop up is anyone's guess. Alright, Williamson’s been warned, and he’ll inform Fudge."

"I’ve already written to the Minister," Marina nodded, carefully omitting the fact that Fudge's response had been a string of unprintable curses.

Worse yet, Williamson had sent back a note littered with ink blots—likely from laughing too hard to hold the quill properly—informing her that Fudge had gone fully rogue. He’d extended house arrest for a significant portion of the Wizengamot’s primary members and even swapped house arrest for full imprisonment for some who’d dared show up at sessions. Their duties had been delegated to deputies or appointees, and overall, Fudge was installing military discipline with the clear assistance of Williamson and his band of troublemakers.

"The worst part is that Dumbledore might not go to Fudge or Voldemort," added O’Leary, who was also part of their war council, "but come back here. For the boy."

"The boy’s already under round-the-clock surveillance," said Berkley. "We can’t exactly lock him in a bunker! Not that it’d help—damn phoenix could slip in anywhere. Honestly, Madam Headmistress, you should’ve confiscated that bird!"

"And how exactly was I supposed to do that?" Marina asked grimly. "It’s a familiar; it listens only to Dumbledore. Even locking it up in a fireproof cage wouldn’t work."

"Lovely. We’ve got an inside threat, one with a loose grip on sanity. So, here’s what I’m saying," Berkley, now in the loop on their plan, leaned forward. "Hurry up with your scheme. If needed, my men can pin the kid down, dunk him into the Pensieve, and finish him off. Trust me, Madam, it’ll be quicker and more reliable that way."

"Yes, but it won’t leave him with even the faintest desire to sacrifice himself," Marina quipped. "Which is, supposedly, the point."

"That’s Dumbledore’s version of events," Berkley countered. "But in reality, the boy might just end up wanting to survive and get revenge on whoever tried to 'handle' him. Either way, you’d best act quickly. The longer we wait, the worse this gets."

"Any news on Voldemort?" asked O’Leary.

"He’s nearby," Marina sighed. "But exactly where? That’s unclear. He’s unlikely to be hiding in the Forbidden Forest; the centaurs would’ve alerted us. You’ve already searched Hogsmeade top to bottom…"

"Maybe he’s holed up in the mountains," Berkley speculated. "Or maybe he’s built up enough strength that… involved individuals can feel him from a distance. If he’s at the Malfoys’ estate, though…" He calculated something mentally. "That’s a bit far off."

"It's the same whether the owl hits the stump or the stump hits the owl!" (1) O’Leary said cheerily. "We hold the line, stay sharp, and hope for the best. Who knows? Maybe Voldemort will make his move by Christmas, and we’ll celebrate properly!"

"You and your jokes…" Marina shook her head. "Alright, gentlemen. You handle your end. I have my own tasks to see to."

She headed off to find Ingebjorg to hear how the session had gone.

As it turned out, the session had gone terribly. Potter flat-out refused to believe what he saw in the Pensieve, calling it a vile lie, a distortion of facts, and induced hallucinations. He declared such things could never have happened. At least, that’s what Marina gathered from his reaction, no matter the exact wording.

"I warned you this was a pointless endeavor," said Snape when he heard about it. "If Dumbledore had shown him, then maybe Potter would’ve believed… possibly. But coming from someone else? No chance. It’s a miracle," he added, "that I don’t have to deal with Potter in my classes anymore. I’d have no idea how to shield the room from his… emotional outbursts."

"Well, you still see him in the Great Hall," Marina replied grimly, "and he’s constantly trying to hide behind someone bigger just to avoid catching your eye."

"Yes, and is glaring at you from a distance," Ingebjorg added. "I’d bet he’s working up the nerve to come ask you if what he saw was true."

"Spare me!" Snape exclaimed with genuine horror. "He’d probably have the gall to do it in public! Or drag Weasley or Granger along for moral support…"

"That won’t happen," Ingebjorg reminded him. "We made him swear not to tell them anything about what he saw."

"But that vow won’t stop him from asking me questions in front of witnesses," Snape insisted. "And I highly doubt he’ll risk coming to my office alone!"

"Oh, Severus," Ingebjorg smiled. "You really don’t understand teenagers, do you? Which is odd, considering…"

"Considering what?"

"Like attracts like," she said. "With your temperament and immaturity, you should know all about a restless young soul."

Marina choked on her tea, feigning a cough to cover her laughter at the blunt comment.

"Mocking me, are you?" Snape sighed. "Fine. Let’s see who’s right."

"Severus," Ingebjorg said seriously, "I’m three times your age, and I don’t even need my gift to see this: Potter’s already torn up by uncertainty. That little… how did you put it, Dolores?"

"A movie session," Marina supplied.

"Yes, that session has shaken his faith in the almighty, all-knowing Dumbledore. And, believe it or not, it’s also cracked his hatred for you. That much is clear."

"Really?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Really. It’s more obvious from the outside. And yes, you’re fortunate not to meet him in class anymore. Otherwise, you’d have provoked him with another sharp remark, and he’d have exploded again…" Ingebjorg spread her hands. "As we say: same song, second verse."

"Two peas in a pod," Marina added.

"More like two hotheads," Ingebjorg corrected. "One old, one young."

"You just said I’m immature," Snape reminded her.

"Emotionally immature," Ingebjorg clarified seriously. "Physically…"

She glanced at Marina, who suddenly found the view out the window very interesting.

"Well, aging is a flexible concept," Ingebjorg concluded. "To me, you’re as much a teenager as Potter is to you. Though admittedly smarter—but that’s innate, not earned. Intelligence aside, you’re no better at applying life experience than he is."

"Just like Potter," Marina said. "He never seems to learn anything from life either."

‘Two witches,’ Snape’s expression seemed to say. ‘Why on earth did I ever involve myself with you?’

"Fine," he said aloud. "I’m leaving. Who knows how deep your armchair psychoanalysis might dig if I stay? And don’t give me that look, Dolores—I know what psychoanalysis is."

"Classic teenager," Ingebjorg sighed as the door closed behind him. "More tea, Dolores?"

"Yes, please," she said. "You’re right… As they say: 'He grew up, but he didn’t wise up.'"

"Don't judge him too harshly. You act as if you don’t know what kind of grim life he’s had. Even if some of it he brought upon himself..."

“You’ve looked into the Pensieve, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Ingebjorg admitted honestly. “How else could I show the boy without knowing what poison our mutual acquaintance poured out? What I saw will never leave me, Dolores, and I won’t share these memories with you. If Severus wants to tell you, he will. If not, well, that’s his choice.”

“Like doctor-patient confidentiality?” Marina Nikolaevna asked seriously.

“You could put it that way.”

“Fair enough. I can guess what those memories involve,” she nodded. “You’re right. If he wants to, he’ll tell us. But honestly, I doubt it. People like him usually keep everything bottled up, not trusting even their closest allies with such secrets. Maybe they’re right to do so…”

“Or maybe not,” Ingebjorg sighed, and Marina Nikolaevna silently agreed.

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• “что совой об пень, что пнем по сове — всё сове плохо” - a Russian proverb that means the outcome stays the same no matter who takes action. "Whether the owl hits the stump or the stump hits the owl, it's bad for the owl either way".