[Prof. Umbridge] Chapter 45

The castle was already adorned with giant pumpkins, grown in abundance by Hagrid (with some "help" from students serving detention). Bats fluttered everywhere, their wings stirring the candle flames in the Great Hall.

Tension was mounting.

The crimson robes of Aurors patrolling the castle shone ominously, an icy fear lingered in Malfoy’s eyes as he prepared to send the signal to the Death Eaters. Snape looked as if staring out from a deep, dark well, and no one felt inclined to talk to him.

Only the Headmaster remained unbothered and cheerful, joking and sharing cryptic aphorisms. But on the eve of Halloween...

“Madam, the Headmaster has gone somewhere,” Letty, a house-elf, appeared suddenly beside Marina Nikolaevna, who immediately grabbed the Marauder’s Map.

Ah, there he was, strolling leisurely toward the gates. Likely heading to Hogsmeade—to The Three Broomsticks or The Hog’s Head—from where he could quietly disapparate. And Potter was with him! What was the Headmaster planning?

“Letty, did you see Harry Potter?” she asked.

“No, madam, but Letty sensed him. Strong magic is no obstacle for house-elves,” came the reply.

"Ah, Disillusionment Charms—of course, the cloak is with me..."

“Quickly, inform Berkeley to put his team on high alert,” Marina Nikolaevna ordered. “The invasion is imminent.”

She grabbed her wand, and her Patronus—a fluffy cat—leapt forward to warn Snape that it was time for Draco to act. Such an opportune moment wouldn’t come again. The Headmaster could be isolated (though that would take effort), while the Aurors handle the Death Eaters...

“Madam, Letty has passed the message,” the house-elf reappeared. “The students are being gathered in their common rooms under guard.”

“I hope the prefects are counting them?” she grumbled.

“Of course, madam! The house-elves are helping!”

Marina Nikolaevna glanced at the map again. The Headmaster was nearing the gates.

Where was Snape? Was he reasoning with Draco? Or had Berkeley detained both of them to “clarify circumstances,” so to speak? As if she needed more headaches!

“Letty, take me to the gates,” she ordered. “And find out what Professor Snape is doing! Inform Ingebjorg as well... assist in the castle if necessary!”

The world faded, then reappeared—grey and ghostly, as a thick fog descended upon Hogwarts. In the mist, the tall silhouette of the Headmaster looked like a Dementor.

“Not the best time for a stroll, Professor Dumbledore,” Marina Nikolaevna said quietly.

“Oh! Is that you, Professor Umbridge?” he responded pleasantly. “What brings you outside in such weather?”

“If you noticed, the weather isn’t something that can stop me.”

“Quite the same for me, Professor Umbridge. I simply wish to warm my old bones in Madam Rosmerta’s cozy establishment. I hope that’s not forbidden by yet another decree?” His glasses gleamed, though there was no visible source of light.

“Not at all, sir,” she replied. “You are free to go wherever you please, but Harry Potter will remain in the castle.”

A soft gasp from behind the Headmaster betrayed Potter’s presence.

“Students are not permitted to leave school grounds,” she added, “unless accompanied by a parent or legal guardian. You, as far as I know, are neither. Therefore, the young man must return to the castle, while you may continue your stroll, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore’s tone hardened, “believe me, I mean far more to Harry than his official guardians, those Muggles, ever could, and—”

“What about his godfather?” she interrupted. “Isn’t he Mr. Potter’s legal guardian in the wizarding world? Perhaps we should invite him to weigh in on your claim?”

“No, don’t—” Potter blurted, and the Disillusionment Charm began to fade.

‘So that's where all these fairy tale rules come from,’ Marina Nikolaevna thought. ‘Don't look back, don't speak a word, don't eat anything offered…’

“Why object, Mr. Potter?” she asked. “There are no Dementors here, and Mr. Black’s death sentence has been revoked. Or is there something you don’t want Mr. Black to know? Perhaps about what the Headmaster is planning for you? What is it, exactly? This escapade seems as dangerous as your trip to the Department of Mysteries, which, thankfully, was cut short.”

“I... I don’t know...” he stammered.

“Oh, really! You don’t know, yet you follow Professor Dumbledore like a lamb on a leash? Let’s just hope you’re not a sacrificial one!” she snapped, noting the cold flame in the Headmaster’s eyes. “And if he asked you to jump from the Astronomy Tower, would you do it without question?”

“Professor Umbridge, I believe this discussion can wait,” Dumbledore said softly. “For now, time is of the essence. If you’ll excuse us—”

“As I said, you may go wherever you wish, but Harry Potter will remain in the castle, under proper protection,” she cut him off firmly.

“Oh? And where is this protection?” the Headmaster raised an eyebrow. At that moment, a loud crash echoed from the castle, shaking the ground beneath them.

“I suspect the Aurors are otherwise occupied,” she replied coolly. “It seems the castle is under attack...”

“Ah... so that’s it,” Dumbledore murmured after a pause. “It seems I underestimated the enemy. I must be getting old!”

“What are you talking about, Professor?” Potter whispered, but received no answer.

“Clever, very clever, Professor Umbridge,” Dumbledore said, staring directly at her. “So more than one person was set to back up that poor boy, Malfoy? And the Ministry... How long has Fudge been under the Imperius Curse? Over a year now, isn’t it? Since the time you were sent to Hogwarts?”

Marina Nikolaevna hesitated, but the Headmaster continued:

“Clever indeed... Voldemort has finally learned subtlety, hasn’t he? Or did someone advise him? Was it you? In exchange for what? The Headmaster’s post? Or perhaps the Minister’s chair? I imagine he was delighted to accept such an offer; he’s always had a fondness for ambitious half-bloods. Like attracts like. In no time at all, the school is nearly taken—not by force, but by cunning—and no one noticed!”

“Not even you, with all your experience, wisdom, and insight?” she shot back, unsure whether to laugh or curse.

Another crash sounded from the castle, followed by shattering glass and shouts of battle. Judging by the flashes in the windows, the fight had reached the eighth-floor corridor. The Death Eaters must have escaped the Room of Requirement!

“Professor!” Potter exclaimed, turning toward the castle. “There—”

“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore said slowly. “A battle is underway, one that began earlier than I anticipated, triggered by a serpent nesting in Hogwarts, poisoning many with its sweet words... What an experienced Death Eater could not accomplish, a mere bureaucrat has achieved... And I, I must confess, was blind! I sensed something was wrong but thought it was Fudge’s usual clumsiness and his assistant’s ambition. It turns out to be far more complex!”

“But we must go back! They need help!” Potter cried, moving toward the castle.

Dumbledore stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“The Death Eaters’ goal isn’t the students. They want you alive, Harry, and me dead. But we’re not there. Instead, there are plenty of Aurors, and the professors will protect their home.”

From the eighth floor, a dark figure flew out with a wild scream, crashing into the third greenhouse with a deafening bang. Glass shattered loudly, and the shrill cries of disturbed young Mandrakes followed, piercing eardrums even at a distance. Inside the greenhouse, the sound must have been downright incapacitating.

The flashes of spells became more frequent, and Marina Nikolaevna thought she could distinctly hear bursts of automatic gunfire. Evidently, Williamson hadn’t been joking about the Aurors’ training—besides spellcasting, they’d clearly been ordered to master firearms.

“We have a more important mission, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “I believe Hogwarts will hold. As for us…”

“You,” Marina Nikolaevna interjected, “Mr. Potter isn’t going anywhere.”

“Professor Umbridge... Dolores,” the Headmaster said earnestly, “I don’t think you want to kill him. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to do so. You have a different task, don’t you? And you’re hesitating, hoping for reinforcements from your comrades with Dark Marks, but…”

A dull explosion echoed through the castle, followed by a cacophony of screams—and then, silence.

“I’m afraid they won’t be coming,” Dumbledore concluded, “so kindly step aside.”

“Go ahead, of course—but only you,” Marina Nikolaevna said, sensing the conversation could go in circles indefinitely if the Headmaster wasn’t in a hurry.

She was wise to remain alert. She managed to cast a shield, but the force of the spell still threw her back. Dolores knew many dangerous curses, but Dumbledore was simply stronger. He didn’t even need to exert himself. There was no time for a counterattack—barely enough to keep the shield intact.

“Dolores, enough,” Dumbledore said softly, raising his wand a little higher. “You’re not a strong duelist. You have no chance against me.”

“I’ll still try,” Marina Nikolaevna hissed through gritted teeth.

This was no practice duel. And where was everyone else?

She couldn’t afford distractions. Dumbledore made another motion—his mastery of nonverbal magic was exceptional—and her shield shattered. Her wand flew off to the side, and she was slammed against the wrought-iron gate with such force that she gasped for air, struggling to breathe.

A few more steps, and the gates would open. Dumbledore could Apparate away with Potter, and there would be no stopping him.

“I think you need a little rest from your labors, Dolores,” Dumbledore said gently, raising his wand. Marina Nikolaevna reflexively raised her hand to shield herself, but—

A flash like lightning struck before her. A deafening crack, like a thunderbolt hitting a high-voltage tower, erupted.

“Dumbledore shall not harm Mistress!” came a shrill voice.

Blinking through the brightness, Marina Nikolaevna saw that the Headmaster had been thrown back a dozen feet. He remained standing, unlike Potter, but looked slightly bewildered.

She had never seen an enraged house-elf before, and the sight was both amusing and terrifying. Letty no longer resembled the humble creature she usually appeared to be. Instead, she looked like a malicious goblin from a children’s tale—with long, gnarled fingers like claws, bared sharp teeth, and gleaming, furious eyes. What kind of power did such a small creature possess to send even Dumbledore flying?

Potter looked around in confusion, clearly unsure of how to react.

“Step aside,” Dumbledore said, raising his wand again. “Move out of the way, and I promise not to harm your Mistress.”

“Letty does not trust Dumbledore!” the elf replied. The next moment, Marina Nikolaevna dropped to the ground, covering her head with her arms, as Dumbledore seemed intent on blasting the elf out of his way. But even for the great wizard, it wasn’t so simple.

Suddenly, from the side, a dark-blue flash—a pulsating light—lit up, followed by another, and another.

Marina Nikolaevna couldn’t imagine what kind of spell this was. Whatever it was, it worked. This time, Dumbledore didn’t remain on his feet.

“Letty, secure Potter!” Marina Nikolaevna ordered quickly.

Out of the dense fog emerged a hunchbacked figure. Marina Nikolaevna recognized Hrafn and exhaled in relief. Reinforcements had arrived at last!

“Letty has Harry Potter,” Letty whispered. “He won’t go anywhere. Letty almost didn’t make it in time!”

“But you did,” Marina Nikolaevna replied, pulling the elf close. She wasn’t in a hurry to stand—who knew what might happen next. “What’s happening in the castle?”

“A great battle, Mistress! The Death Eaters broke out of the Room of Requirement, and they brought Dementors and other creatures—Letty doesn’t know what they are. Letty relayed everything as Mistress instructed and helped protect the students. The Aurors and professors are fighting together, and Professor Snape is with them…”

“With them or with the Death Eaters?” she asked, frowning.

“With the creatures and Dementors,” Letty said after a moment of thought. “Mistress, look, Mistress!”

The withered autumn grass was now frosted over, and the fog was settling into icy granules.

Dumbledore seemed to realize he was in serious danger. He launched another attack, but Hrafn, despite his small, clumsy appearance, dodged with remarkable agility. Part of the spells hit an icy shield that appeared out of nowhere. The shield absorbed the magic, then shattered, leaving a long, flat shard in the dwarf’s hands.

With that shard, now glowing with pulsating blue light, Hrafn effortlessly sliced off Dumbledore’s right arm just above the elbow. The limb fell to the frozen ground, the wand still clutched in its fingers.

Dumbledore grabbed at the stump, blood pouring from the wound and soaking his robes. He sank to the ground, still trying to staunch the bleeding.

Out of the frosty fog, someone in a tattered black cloak and bloodied mask suddenly ran out, nearly stumbling over the Headmaster’s body. They froze for a moment, then let out a shrill scream and bolted for the gates, Apparating as soon as they passed the barrier.

“Are you all right, Dolores?” a familiar voice asked from above. Marina Nikolaevna looked up.

Ingebjorg, dressed in her pale robes and fur cloak, looked like a ghost, glowing faintly in the darkness.

“Yes, I think so…” Marina Nikolaevna stood, leaning on the gate and wincing. Her back ached terribly from the impact. “And you?”

“We were waiting for the right moment,” Ingebjorg replied. “They’ll finish things in the castle without us.”

“And… did you kill the Headmaster?”

“No, see for yourself—if you’re not afraid of fainting. You locals are awfully delicate…”

Dumbledore lay sprawled on the frosted grass, his glasses askew, eyes rolled back. His white beard and robes were stained red with blood, but he was clearly breathing. Upon closer inspection, Marina Nikolaevna understood why: above the wound, his flesh seemed to have frozen solid.

“Mistress,” Hrafn rasped, “may your worthless servant carry out what is planned?”

“Yes, as it is your right,” the Seer nodded majestically.

“What is he do—” Marina Nikolaevna began to reach out for her, but stopped when she remembered her hands were covered in dirt and rust. However, Ingebjorg herself wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Letty clung to her knee. “Why is he…”

The sight was indeed disturbing: Hrafn had picked up Dumbledore’s severed hand and—Marina Nikolaevna shut her eyes for a moment, only to reopen them out of morbid curiosity—sank his teeth into the still-bleeding flesh. His teeth weren’t human—sharp, long, and dull yellow.

“This is blood and flesh,” Ingebjorg said calmly, “not of an enemy, but of a rival.”

“And the curse?”

“Hrafn isn’t human,” she shrugged. “What’s a curse to him?”

“But why is he…”

“It’s a long story. Dvergar aren’t human; they live by their own rules, and for one of them to bond with a human requires a serious reason…” Ingebjorg paused. “Hrafn has such a reason. The dvergar are a warlike people, and a decade rarely passes without great slaughter. It’s for the best—otherwise, they’d have no place to live. Hrafn’s clan was nearly wiped out, and those who survived submitted to the victor.”

“And he… wait, he’s not going to eat the whole hand, is he?”

“No, this is a symbolic gesture,” the Seer replied unbothered. “He isn’t ‘eating,’ as you so charmingly put it—he’s making an offering to his ancestors and asking for their favor. We’ll have to wait; interrupting now isn’t an option.”

“What favor?”

“To give him enough strength to restore his clan’s greatness. Isn’t it obvious?” Ingebjorg smirked. “Dvergar don’t need wands to perform magic; they have other weapons. You saw that, didn’t you?”

Marina Nikolaevna nodded.

“Hrafn has mastered the power of ice well and has fulfilled his duty: he defeated a formidable opponent. Now he can claim much…”

“And how did he end up with you?” Marina Nikolaevna whispered.

“He came seeking apprenticeship. Thought I could teach him something beyond what he already had… Foolish of him; I’ve learned more from him than he ever did from me,” Ingebjorg chuckled. “But he upheld the terms of our agreement. He served me faithfully for seven times seven years, was my support and aid, accomplished great deeds, and defeated a powerful rival.

As if to punctuate her words, there was a sharp crack of wood—Hrafn had wrenched Dumbledore’s wand from the lifeless hand and snapped it with his bloodied fingers. A blue, smokeless flame surged up from the broken pieces before vanishing.

“Lady…” Hrafn rasped, turning to her.

“You are no longer my servant or apprentice—you are free,” Ingebjorg declared. “Go, and may my blessing be with you.”

“Hrafn may still be useful to the Lady,” he replied after a moment of thought. “There are many bad people here.”

“That’s your choice,” she nodded. “But if so, take the headmaster back to the castle. It seems things are already wrapping up there… Ah, here comes reinforcements. Took your time, Severus!”

Instead of responding, Snape looked ready to curse, but restrained himself with visible effort. All he managed was:
“Is everyone alive?”

“Yes. And most are unharmed,” Ingebjorg replied. “You, Severus, are skilled in mental magic—take care of the boy. He doesn’t need to remember what happened here.”

“And what did happen here?” Snape pushed back his sweat-soaked hair, leaving a streak of soot across his forehead. “I couldn’t get to you. First, Draco had a meltdown—I had to knock him out, and lock him up, and order Kreacher to guard him. Then something crawled out of the Room of Requirement… I don’t even know what it was, but it devoured everything it could reach!”

“Inferi, perhaps?” Marina Nikolaevna asked as she shifted out from under the Seer’s heavy arm. Her back no longer hurt—likely Ingebjorg had healed her.

“Maybe… They were resistant to most spells, and if not for the cleanup teams with their firearms and… what are they called… grenades, things would’ve gone far worse.”

“Did they clear them all out?”

“Yes, the castle is being searched top to bottom now. Students are locked in their common rooms with Aurors and house-elves guarding the entrances…” Snape exhaled. “Most of the Death Eaters have been captured. A few were killed. But a couple managed to escape…”

“The one who flew out of the eighth floor is probably still in the third greenhouse,” Marina Nikolaevna pointed out. “And another ran past here. He saw Dumbledore bleeding, screamed, and Disapparated. Unless, of course, it was the same one… Does this work in our favor?”

“Absolutely!” Snape seemed noticeably more cheerful. “Unlikely he saw anything clearly in this fog… In any case, the assassination attempt happened.”

“And if… if the Dark Lord summons you, then what?”

“Nothing. It was agreed: if Draco succeeded, I’d be allowed to stay here longer and continue spying. Besides, no one yet knows whether the headmaster is alive or not…” Snape glanced at Hrafn, who was now carrying Dumbledore on his back with little care as he headed for the castle. “The one who escaped didn’t see who attacked, right?”

“No, I told you, he ran in, barely glanced at Dumbledore, and bolted.”

“All the better… And Potter saw everything, didn’t he? Fine… I don’t have the strength right now to change his memories,” he admitted honestly. “So… He’ll remember only a flash of an unknown spell. He’ll wake up, as usual, in the hospital wing. We’ll figure it out later.”

“Then I’d better handle it myself,” Ingebjorg said softly. “You, Severus, will need your strength for other matters. Don’t worry—I won’t harm the boy. He’ll dream a long dream: walking through fog, unseen and unheard, a loud cry, a bright light, and an unknown force that struck him down. The enemy didn’t notice him, and Dumbledore, distracted for a split second while protecting his student, suffered instead. Neat, wouldn’t you say?”

“The headmaster comes out spotless again?” Snape sneered, wiping his face with his sleeve, leaving a smear of blood across his deeply cut cheek. “Though it hardly matters. Let’s return to the castle.”

"Letty, take Madam Ingebjorg and Harry Potter to the infirmary. Help her if needed, then return for us," Marina Nikolaevna instructed. The house-elf nodded. "Severus, would you kindly find my wand? It flew quite far."

"Of course... Here you go," Snape handed her the wand. "D-damn..."

"What is it? And stop fidgeting—you’ve got a bloody gash across your face. Do you want a dramatic scar like Berkley’s?"

"That’s not it! How were you not afraid to stand upagainst the headmaster like that?"

"And who told you I wasn’t afraid?" Marina asked. Her head was ringing unpleasantly, and her legs felt weak. "Do you know the old saying? Do what you must, come what may. That’s how it was. I knew he probably wouldn’t kill me, especially in front of Potter, but I was still terrified. Especially when he disarmed me—I simply didn’t have the strength to maintain the shield. I’m not much of a fighter..."

"Don’t sell yourself short," Snape replied, attempting to clean his robes. "Even the Dark Lord hesitates to confront Dumbledore alone. Shall we? Waiting for your elf could take a while..."

"Letty is already here!" the elf exclaimed, suddenly reappearing. "Letty helped Madam Ingebjorg, as instructed! And now Madam is expected by Mr. Berkley!"

"Alright, take us to him," Marina nodded, forcing herself to focus and act.

The Great Hall was in disarray: the tables had vanished, decorations were partially damaged, and along one wall lay about twenty individuals, hands bound behind their heads, legs splayed wide to prevent them from jumping up suddenly.

"That was a good fight," Berkley said with satisfaction, sporting a luxurious black eye in addition to his scar.

"Casualties?" Marina asked softly.

"Three on our side," Berkley replied seriously. "Plus five injured, but nothing too critical. Colhoun got pretty torn up by the Inferi, but he’ll live. Honestly, if it weren’t for the Cleaners, we wouldn’t have stopped them so easily. Inferi only fear fire, and what kind of serious fire can you use in a castle? One wrong move, and the whole place could go up—with kids inside! Trying to land an Incendio precisely without hitting our own while dealing with hordes of them was almost impossible. But those Muggle weapons ripped the Inferi to shreds, and we finished the rest. And to think I opposed Williamson’s ideas!"

"Dementors weren’t much trouble either," added O’Leary, dirty from head to toe but unharmed. "And we got quite the haul!"

"Someone fell into the third greenhouse," Marina said, "right into the mandrakes. Check if they’re alive?"

"Got it," O’Leary signaled, and a couple of Aurors rushed off.

"Another one escaped. But that’s not too bad... it might even work in our favor," Marina added. "The headmaster suffered serious injuries during the attack."

"Defending the school, I suppose?" Berkley squinted. "Funny, though—I kept looking for him and didn’t see him. I saw that old Scottish woman, the short professor, the one with the walrus mustache... a few younger women too. Professor Snape tore through the Inferi, that old lady with the creepy name froze Dementors on the go... Even the groundskeeper showed up and managed to take down Dolohov with a club! But the headmaster? Nowhere to be found. You seen him, O’Leary?"

"Nope," O’Leary replied. "And honestly, who cares? What about these guys? Azkaban?"

"What’s the point of Azkaban if they come and go as they please? Let’s send them to the Department of Mysteries. The smaller fry can rot in prison, but the Lestranges..." Berkley nudged one of the prisoners with his boot. "...they need to be hidden somewhere they can’t be found. I’ll inform Williamson. As for the Minister..."

"I’ll handle that," Marina nodded, extending her hand. Letty promptly handed her a quill and parchment.

______________________

"Minister,

An attack by Death Eaters on Hogwarts has just been repelled. Thanks to your foresight, our losses were minimal, despite Dementors and Inferi breaching the school alongside the Death Eaters. Containing them was extremely difficult, and had it not been for the Auror shift change—and the teachers stepping in—I shudder to think of the consequences!

The headmaster was gravely injured during the attack. It’s too soon to tell if he’ll survive, and this information must remain secret. Should He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named learn that Dumbledore is incapacitated, he might launch another strike. While some of his followers were captured, he still commands enough forces to overwhelm ours.

You must decide, Minister, but I don’t believe panic among the populace will help us resolve this crisis.

I have reason to believe that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is after something hidden within the school—something beyond Harry Potter. I’ll do my best to uncover it before the Death Eaters regroup.

Aurors should remain stationed at Hogwarts, and reinforcements wouldn’t hurt. The shift leader has already sent word to Williamson.

I trust in your understanding.

Your loyal servant, Dolores Umbridge."

_______________________

"Letty, deliver this," she instructed, turning back to the Aurors. "Mr. Berkley..."

"We’re not leaving, orders or no orders," Berkley said, shaking his head. "We’ll tend to the injured and send them to Mungo’s. Though, honestly, most of them could rest up in the school infirmary. Those still fresh will keep watch, while others rest. Shift change is in the morning. Am I to understand, Madam Umbridge, that you’re in charge now?"

"Technically, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall—"

"I don’t care who’s technically in charge. You calling the shots?" Berkley smirked. "Good enough for me. Just need someone to sign off on orders if needed. We’ll keep out of school matters otherwise."

"Madam," a small house-elf named Trinky appeared, "Mistress Ingebjorg requests you come to the infirmary to see the headmaster."

"Mr. Berkley, proceed as you see fit," Marina said. "When the Minister replies, I’ll let you know immediately. For now, it’s all under my responsibility. Just..."

"Don’t worry, we won’t overstep," Berkley replied seriously. "We know the limits. O’Leary, why are you still here? And you, ma’am, off to your business. Everyone’s got their job!"