Chapter 324: Chapter 324
Since returning from the Hog’s Head that night, Lynn hadn’t gone out of his way to pay attention to Umbridge.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; there simply wasn’t any need.
Umbridge’s behavior at Hogwarts had become more than merely subdued—she had gone from one extreme to the other.
Every morning in the Great Hall, students could still see her sitting at the teachers’ table, wearing that signature pink cardigan, a bow tied at the collar, and a hair clip in her hair. But the expression on her face was completely different from the one she had worn at the start of term.
Before, she had worn a deliberately sugary smile so cloying it seemed forced. Now, how should he put it... her face was stiff from trying—and failing—to force out a smile. The corners of her mouth curled upward, the corners of her eyes drooped, and every muscle in her face seemed to pull in a different direction, producing an expression uglier than crying.
Sometimes, while eating in the Great Hall, Lynn would casually glance toward the teachers’ table. Each time, he saw Umbridge sitting in a strangely rigid posture—back straight, hands neatly placed on her knees, head slightly lowered, and gaze fixed on the plate before her as though she were studying the texture of a roasted potato. She rarely looked up, and even when she did, she only cast a quick glance around before lowering her head again. She looked less like a professor and more like a student desperately trying to make herself inconspicuous for fear of being called on.
At the Hufflepuff table, discussions about Umbridge had become a regular occurrence.
"Have you noticed?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked, spearing a piece of steak with his fork and lowering his voice. "She didn’t stand up once during class today."
Hannah Abbott leaned closer. "She never stood up during class before, either."
"That’s not what I mean." Justin shook his head, struggling to find the right words. "It’s... how should I put it? She huddles behind the podium as if she wishes she could disappear. Even when she reads from the textbook, her voice is quieter than usual. I was sitting in the third row and could barely hear her."
"Then what are you complaining about?" Ernie Macmillan leaned over from the side. "Isn’t it better if she’s quiet? You can sleep through class."
"I’m not complaining." Justin rolled his eyes. "I just think it’s strange. A few days ago, she was still acting all high and mighty, and now she’s suddenly become like this."
Hannah thought for a moment. "Could Headmaster Dumbledore have said something to her?"
"Isn’t Headmaster Dumbledore on vacation?" Ernie asked.
"Then Professor McGonagall?"
They exchanged glances, but none of them could guess the answer.
Susan Bones set down her pumpkin juice and spoke in the tone of someone who had seen through everything. "Whoever said something to her, the point is that she doesn’t dare cause trouble anymore. Isn’t that a good thing? Do you miss the days when she made us read from the textbook?"
At that, everyone shook their heads in unison.
"Forget it," Justin said. "I’d rather attend Snape’s class than listen to her read from the textbook again."
"At least you can learn something in Snape’s class," Ernie added.
"And it builds your tolerance for stress," Hannah added.
The group exchanged glances and burst out laughing.
The laughter reached the teachers’ table. Umbridge’s shoulders shook noticeably, and she buried her head lower.
Outside her daily Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Umbridge had become practically nonexistent at Hogwarts. She was rarely seen in the corridors. Previously, she had enjoyed roaming the corridors between classes, scrutinizing everyone as though selecting the next person in need of being "educated." Now, the corridors held only the sound of students’ footsteps and laughter.
A few times, Lynn spotted a flash of pink in the distance at the corner of a corridor. The figure would pause at the corner as though debating whether to approach, then quickly retreat and disappear. He even suspected that, were it not for her obligation to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, Umbridge would not dare show her face at all.
Naturally, Umbridge’s subdued behavior at Hogwarts displeased certain people.
For example, Cornelius Fudge.
The fire in the Minister for Magic’s office burned brightly, filling the room with warmth. Fudge sat behind his large desk with several documents spread before him, but he had not read a single one. His gaze remained fixed on the screen of his Magic Phone.
The message he had sent Umbridge several hours earlier was still displayed there, unanswered.
He checked again. Still nothing.
Fudge frowned, tapped his fingers on the desk twice, then picked up the Magic Phone and sent another one.
"Dolores, I need an explanation."
He waited for about five minutes.
The screen lit up.
"Minister, I am currently investigating."
Fudge stared at these words for a few seconds.
Investigating? Investigating what? She had been at Hogwarts for nearly two months without uncovering so much as Dumbledore’s shadow, and now she was telling him she was "currently investigating"?
He took a deep breath and typed rapidly on the screen.
"Investigating? Dolores, you’ve been there for almost a month. I want results, not the process. It’s impossible for Dumbledore to have no dirt on him; he’s been at Hogwarts for so many years, how could there be no problems at all?"
The message was sent.
This time, he waited even longer.
The reply finally came, consisting of only one sentence: "Minister, the situation is rather complicated."
Fudge’s anger flared up. He slammed the Magic Phone onto the desk with a thud and paced back and forth across the office.
Ever since Dumbledore said those words at the end-of-term feast, Fudge hadn’t slept well.
"Lord Voldemort has returned."
The sentence had exploded through the wizarding world like a bomb.
Although he had done his best at the press conference to dismiss it as Dumbledore’s delusion, insist there was no evidence that You-Know-Who had returned, and accuse Dumbledore of fearmongering—there were still people who believed him.
Fudge couldn’t let them continue to be afraid. If people believed Lord Voldemort had returned, if panic spread, then the entire Wizarding World would fall into chaos. The Ministry of Magic’s authority would collapse—and so would his own. His supporters would turn away, his opponents would seize the opportunity to attack, and those watching from the sidelines would take a stand against him. And he—Cornelius Fudge—would become known as the "incompetent Minister who failed in the face of crisis."
He couldn’t let that happen.
Therefore, Dumbledore had to be silenced. Whether his claims were true or false, he could not be allowed to continue spreading them.
But Dumbledore was no ordinary person. He was the greatest wizard of the age, the President of the International Confederation of Wizards, and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. His reputation was so immense that Fudge could not touch him directly.
If he couldn’t touch Dumbledore, then he would touch those around him.
Hogwarts was Dumbledore’s stronghold. If he could uncover "problems" at Hogwarts, expose the chaos in the school’s management, and convince the public that Dumbledore was no longer fit to serve as Headmaster—then everything would be easy.
So he sent Umbridge to Hogwarts.
Umbridge was his confidant, one of the people he trusted most. She was loyal, capable, and not afraid of offending people. Sending her to Hogwarts had seemed like the most suitable choice.
But now, what was Umbridge doing? All she could offer was, "The situation is rather complicated."
Fudge stopped pacing and picked up the Magic Phone again.
"Dolores, I am warning you for the last time. The Ministry of Magic’s scrutiny of Hogwarts will not cease merely because you have chosen to retreat."
"Dumbledore’s so-called ’vacation’ is just the beginning; I need more to prove he is not fit to continue as Headmaster."
"I am now officially appointing you High Inquisitor of the Ministry of Magic, with full responsibility for inspecting Hogwarts."
"You have the right to inspect the qualifications, teaching content, and teaching methods of all faculty and staff."
"No matter what it takes, you must find something incriminating on Dumbledore."
He pressed the send button.
In her office, Umbridge stared at the Magic Phone’s screen with a sinking heart. She looked down at the long text on the screen, reading it word for word.
"High Inquisitor of the Ministry of Magic"—a month ago, she would have been ecstatic about this title. But now—she only felt like the sky was falling.
Her trembling finger hovered over the screen for a long time before she finally typed a reply.
"Minister, I need time."
...
A few days later, at noon.
After being busy all morning, Lynn was well past merely "starving." He ran to the Hufflepuff table, sat down, grabbed a chicken leg from the plate in front of him, and started devouring it.
Edgar sat beside him, watching him wolf down his food, and could not help saying, "Slow down. No one’s going to steal it from you."
"Mmhmm," Lynn responded indistinctly through a mouthful of food, without slowing his hands in the slightest.
Just as Lynn was eating with gusto, a few words drifted into his ears.
"Professor Black..."
"Taken away..."
"Injured..."
His chewing slowed down. He turned toward the source of the voices.
Toward the middle of the Hufflepuff table, several fourth-year girls were huddled together, whispering something. Their expressions were serious, and one of them glanced at the teachers’ table from time to time.
"Why did the Ministry people take Professor Black away...?" a ponytailed girl whispered.
"It seems a student was injured in class," the girl opposite her replied.
"What happened?"
"I heard a student caused an explosion during Transfiguration." The ponytailed girl lowered her voice further. "Then people from the Ministry arrived, claimed Professor Black’s teaching methods posed a safety risk, and took him away for questioning."
"But aren’t accidents common in Transfiguration?" a short-haired girl beside her asked in confusion. "I once turned a mouse into a lump of mush, and no one came to investigate Professor McGonagall."
"That’s different." The ponytailed girl shook her head. "Professor McGonagall is a full professor, while Professor Black is only a teaching assistant. And..." She lowered her voice. "You know Professor Black’s history. Whether he was wrongly accused or not, he came out of Azkaban. The Ministry must be watching him."
After listening for a few moments, Lynn furrowed his brow.
Just as he tried to listen more closely, similar discussions arose from the neighboring Ravenclaw table.
Just then, the Great Hall doors were suddenly pushed open. The sound wasn’t loud, but it was exceptionally clear amidst the buzzing conversation.
The students looked up toward the door.
Professor McGonagall walked in, followed by Umbridge. The two proceeded to the front of the teachers’ table, one behind the other.
Professor McGonagall turned around to face the hall.
"Please be quiet."
The buzzing conversation gradually subsided.
"I need a moment of your time to make an announcement." Professor McGonagall’s tone remained calm. "Regarding Black, the Transfiguration teaching assistant—" She paused. "Because he is required to cooperate with a Ministry investigation, he will be unable to continue teaching for the time being."
The hall was quiet for a moment.
Then—
"Huh?" Someone let out a short exclamation.
"Why?" another voice called from the Gryffindor table, clearly dissatisfied.
"He didn’t do anything wrong!"
Whispers rose one after another and spread through the hall like a tide.
Professor McGonagall didn’t stop the discussion. She just stood there, waited a few seconds, then raised her hand and pressed it down gently.
The voices slowly died down.
"The Ministry of Magic will release further details at the appropriate time," she said. "Until the investigation is concluded, please refrain from unfounded speculation."
Professor McGonagall nodded at Umbridge, signaling that she could speak.
Umbridge hurried to the center of the teachers’ table. Just as she was about to announce her appointment as High Inquisitor and her authority to inspect the teachers, she met Lynn’s icy gaze. She felt as if she had fallen into an ice cave.
She hurried through the announcement of her new Ministry appointment, then scurried back to her office.
Lynn watched her leave and felt that his previous warning had clearly not been enough.
...
The fourth-floor corridor was very quiet. By then, most students were either returning to their common rooms or already eating dinner in the Great Hall.
Lynn walked to the door of Umbridge’s office and stopped. He waved his wand, then kicked open the office door.
Umbridge sat in her chair with her back to the door. At the sound of it crashing open, her shoulders jerked and her body froze.
She slowly turned around. When her gaze met Lynn’s, she felt as though her blood had frozen, the chill spreading from her toes through her knees, waist, chest, and neck before finally reaching her heart. Her heart seemed to stop for half a beat before pounding wildly, as though it might leap from her throat.
Before Umbridge could open her mouth, Lynn cast a Bone-Breaking Curse at her hand.
"Mr. Lynn—!" Her voice rose sharply. "This is a misunderstanding! It’s all a misunderstanding!"
"What’s there to misunderstand? Do you dare claim Sirius wasn’t taken away on your orders?"
Trembling, Umbridge burst into tearful excuses. "I was forced into it," "This was all Minister Fudge’s order," "I didn’t want this either"... and so on.
Listening to her gave Lynn a headache. At that moment, his desire to replace the Minister for Magic reached its peak.
But considering the old Headmaster’s attitude... Lynn’s eyes shifted as a plan formed in his mind.
"Umbridge."
Umbridge’s body shook violently. "I... I’m here..."
Lynn crouched down and looked her in the eye. "I need you to do something."
Umbridge’s eyes widened. "W-What do you want...?"
"Take a message to the Minister."
Umbridge froze. "W-What message...?"
Lynn stood and brushed nonexistent dust from his knees.
"Tell him—" Lynn thought for a moment. "I have incriminating information on Dumbledore, and I want to discuss it with him in detail."
The air in the office seemed to freeze.
"You... what did you say?"
"I have incriminating information on Dumbledore," Lynn repeated. "I want to discuss it with Minister Fudge in detail." He paused. "If you don’t want your life to be in danger right now—" His gaze settled on Umbridge. "—then deliver that message."
Umbridge’s body shook again.
"I... I’ll deliver it." Her voice was faint but resolute. "I’ll deliver it."
Lynn nodded, "Very good."
He turned and walked toward the door, but stopped after two steps.
"Oh, right. About Professor Black—"
"I... I’ll find a way!"
Lynn looked at her, "Can you do it?"
"Yes!" Umbridge nodded frantically. "I definitely can!"
---
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