The next morning found Adrian climbing the familiar spiral staircase to the headmaster's office.
The headmaster's office itself was in organized chaos, as always. Silver instruments whirred and clicked on their tables, releasing occasional puffs of smoke or melodic chimes.
The portraits of former headmasters dozed in their frames, though Adrian noticed several had cracked open an eye to observe his arrival. Fawkes was stroking its feathers on his golden perch.
Behind his desk, Dumbledore sat with his fingers steepled in front of him. His spectacles caught the light as he looked at Adrian with perhaps a touch of knowing amusement.
"Good morning, Adrian," Dumbledore said. "I trust you slept well after yesterday's... eventful afternoon?"
Adrian settled into the chair across from the headmaster, noting that Dumbledore had already prepared two cups of tea.
"Quite peacefully, thank you," Adrian replied, accepting the offered cup with grace.
Dumbledore's expression grew more serious, the twinkle in his eyes dimming slightly as he leaned back in his chair.
"Hagrid made an interesting discovery this morning during his rounds," He began. "It seems he found quite a collection of torn fabric scattered around the area near the Quidditch pitch. Black fabric, to be specific."
Adrian maintained his composure, though internally he winced.
"Upon examination by Ministry officials," Dumbledore continued, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on his desk, "these remnants were identified as belonging to Dementors. Nearly two hundred of them, in fact. All severely injured and requiring immediate transport back to Azkaban for... recovery."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on Adrian's face with intensity. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about this discovery, Adrian?"
Adrian blinked with the kind of innocence that would have done credit to a first-year student caught with chocolate frog wrappers in their textbooks. His expression was a masterpiece of confused bewilderment, complete with a slight tilt of his head that showed he couldn't quite understand why such a question was being thrown at him.
"I'm not entirely certain why you would summon me regarding this matter, Professor Dumbledore," He said, his voice having just the right tone of puzzled concern. "I'm afraid I know nothing about any Dementors or their... unfortunate condition."
The lie rolled off his tongue with the smooth confidence.
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore immediately understood—this was definitely the handiwork of their Care of Magical Creatures professor.
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his expression shifting from interrogation to contemplation.
However... this seemed a bit excessive.
Although he had once told Adrian that he could take action against Dementors when necessary, Adrian had sent all the Dementors back home in one go... This certainly exceeded his expectations.
Of course, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
He had long found those Dementors unpleasant.
If they could have served some purpose, it would have been acceptable, but they had been searching Hogwarts for so long without finding even a shadow of Black, while creating numerous problems.
Perhaps he should never have allowed the Dementors into Hogwarts in the first place.
With these thoughts, Dumbledore allowed his tense posture to soften. His gentle smile returned to his face.
"Very well, Adrian," Dumbledore said softly. "I believe I understand the situation."
Adrian shrugged with intentional nonchalance, lifting his teacup to his lips and savoring the overly sweet liquid.
"Since all these Dementors sustained such severe injuries," Adrian said, his voice carefully casual, "I find myself curious about the Ministry's response to this... unfortunate development."
Dumbledore's expression shifted again, this time taking on the resigned look of someone who had seen too many years of political theater to find surprise in bureaucratic overreaction. He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the decades spent dealing with governmental inefficiency and misplaced priorities.
"Oh, I suspect you'll discover their response soon enough," He said, glancing toward the office door. "Cornelius has never been one to handle unexpected developments with particular grace or subtleness."
Obviously, the Ministry had done something.
This was normal, of course—after all, Dementors were the Ministry's 'Subordinates', and so many injured Dementors was no small matter.
But what did Dumbledore mean by that?
Just as Adrian was wondering, the headmaster's office door was suddenly pushed open roughly.
"Albus, I demand an explanation!"
Fudge stormed angrily into the office, looking like an enraged wild boar.
His bowler hat was askew on one side, his purple striped tie loose and disheveled—clearly he hadn't checked his appearance before leaving.
Adrian carefully set down his teacup and settled back in his chair to observe the unfolding drama. In his experience, angry politicians provided some of the finest entertainment available to those wise enough to avoid being the direct target of their anger.
"Nearly two hundred Dementors!" Fudge continued ignoring Adrian, gesturing so wildly that droplets of spit flew from his lips to land on Dumbledore's paperwork. "Every single one of them requiring medical attention! Some of them may take months to recover fully! In all the centuries that Dementors have served the Ministry, nothing like this has ever occurred!"
Dumbledore remained perfectly calm throughout this tirade, his expression never shifting from polite, patient attention. He reached up to adjust his half-moon spectacles, then folded his hands on the desk before him.
"I am already aware of the situation, Cornelius," He said. "Your letter this morning was quite thorough in its description of events. However, I would advise against allowing yourself to become overly distressed by what is, ultimately, a manageable situation."
"Manageable?" Fudge's voice climbed another octave, causing several of the portraits to wince and cover their ears. "These are Dementors we're discussing, Albus! Before yesterday, they were considered nearly indestructible! Nothing in the recorded history of the wizarding world has ever been capable of inflicting this kind of damage on them!"
Fudge yanked off his crooked bowler hat and clutched it to his chest like a shield. His scalp gleamed with sweat, and his whole appearance showed a man who had dressed hastily and left his office in something approaching panic.
"Tell me," He continued, leaning forward over Dumbledore's desk with the aggressive posture of an interrogator, "who could possibly be responsible for this unprecedented assault on Ministry property?"
Adrian maintained his expression of polite interest while internally appreciating the irony of Fudge referring to soul-sucking monsters as "Ministry property" as if they were pieces of office equipment rather than creatures of elemental darkness.
Dumbledore spread his hands in a gesture of helpless ignorance that managed to be both entirely truthful and completely unhelpful. "I'm afraid the identity of the responsible party remains something of a mystery, Cornelius. As I mentioned in my response to your inquiry, the situation occurred without my knowledge or direct observation."
"Without your knowledge?" Fudge's small eyes narrowed to suspicious slits as his gaze shifted between Dumbledore and Adrian like a predator trying to decide which prey to pursue first. "Are you seriously expecting me to believe that someone capable of single-handedly defeating two hundred Dementors could operate on Hogwarts grounds without the headmaster's awareness?"
His attention suddenly focused on Adrian with intensity.
"Professor Westeros," He said, "I distinctly recall your... unique demonstration on the Hogwarts Express regarding your capabilities with Dementors. You must have some insight into this matter, surely?"
Adrian sighed inwardly, recognizing that his previous display of anti-Dementor magic had marked him as the prime suspect in Fudge's mind. It was, he had to admit, totally logical reasoning—he had demonstrated the ability to harm Dementors, and now a large number of Dementors had been harmed.
The connection was so obvious that even Fudge could make it.
"I'm afraid I must disappoint you, Minister," Adrian replied with the same tone of polite regret he might use to decline an invitation to a boring social function. "While I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, surely you cannot seriously suggest that any single wizard—regardless of skill—could engage nearly two hundred Dementors simultaneously and emerge victorious?"
He gestured toward himself with self-deprecating humor. "I may have some modest talent in defensive magic, but I am hardly a one-man army capable of such feats."
Fudge's expression showed he was far from convinced by Adrian's reasonable protests, but he seemed to recognize that he lacked the evidence necessary to press his accusations further.
Turning back to Dumbledore with determination, he planted his hands on the headmaster's desk and leaned forward aggressively. "If it wasn't Professor Westeros, then the most magically powerful individual at Hogwarts would be you, Albus. Are you going to sit there and tell me you had nothing to do with this incident?"
Dumbledore pressed his interlaced fingers against his chin in a gesture that showed he was in deep consideration before speaking.
"Cornelius, I must say that the injuries sustained by those Dementors have nothing to do with me."
Fudge stood frozen for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air as he tried to voice a response to Dumbledore's denial. His political instincts told him that he was being manipulated, but he couldn't identify exactly how or by whom.
"Then what happened?" He finally exploded, his voice cracking with frustration. "Did two hundred Dementors simply decide to throw themselves from the sky like a flock of suicidal ravens? Perhaps they all contracted some mysterious disease that causes them to tear off their own robes and collapse in conveniently scattered piles?"
Dumbledore's response was eloquent in its complete absence. He simply spread his hands wider and maintained his expression of peaceful unhelpfulness, as if to say that some mysteries were beyond even his wisdom to solve.
The gesture had precisely the effect Adrian expected.
Fudge's face progressed through several additional shades of purple before settling on a particularly unfortunate magenta.
He knew this definitely had something to do with Dumbledore, because Dumbledore had always expressed dissatisfaction with those Dementors.
But he couldn't accuse Dumbledore without evidence. Without Dumbledore's admission, he could do nothing.
"Fine!" Fudge shouted, jamming his bowler hat back. "If you're all going to maintain this pretense of ignorance, then you can deal with the consequences!"
"Without Dementor protection, don't come crying to the Ministry when Sirius Black turns this entire school into his personal playground!" Fudge angrily left this parting shot and stormed out of the headmaster's office.
In the sudden silence that followed Fudge's dramatic exit, the portraits began stirring and whispering among themselves, no doubt already composing the versions of events they would share with their friends in other parts of the castle.
Adrian waited several moments to ensure that Fudge had truly left before showing a small smile of amusement.
"Well," he said, reaching for his neglected teacup, "that was certainly theatrical. Does he always handle bureaucratic setbacks with such... passion?"
Dumbledore's own smile was tinged with the weary resignation. "I'm afraid Cornelius has never been particularly graceful under pressure. However, his threats should not be taken entirely seriously—the political implications of the Sirius Black situation are far too significant for the Ministry to simply abandon their efforts at Hogwarts."
"So, they'll send replacements?" Adrian asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
"Oh, certainly. Cornelius may bluster and threaten, but he cannot afford to appear weak in the face of a security crisis. They'll implement alternative measures within days, if not hours."
In fact, Adrian was only worried about what would happen if Fudge discovered he was the one who dealt with the Dementors.
Well, perhaps there was no need to worry—he was only acting in self-defense.
If push came to shove, he'd let Dumbledore take the blame.
After all, it was Dumbledore who said he could deal with those Dementors.
Yes, that's what he'd do.
"Achoo!"
After Adrian left the headmaster's office, Dumbledore suddenly sneezed.
"How odd," he muttered to himself after Adrian had left. "It's been growing rather chilly lately, hasn't it? Perhaps I should consider switching to heavier robes for the season..."
That afternoon brought confirmation of Dumbledore's prediction in the form of official Ministry owls bearing sealed proclamations and revised security protocols.
The Dementor guard posts around Hogwarts would be permanently discontinued, but the Ministry's presence would continue in a new form.
Rather than the soul-sucking creatures that had casted a shadow of despair over the entire school, the Ministry deployed a rotating team of Aurors to maintain surveillance for Sirius Black.
The difference in atmosphere was immediately noticeable. Students no longer needed to worry about accidentally encountering creatures that fed on happiness; instead, they might occasionally spot a stern-faced wizard in official robes patrolling the corridors with professional alertness.
Unlike those cold creatures, Dumbledore allowed them to enter Hogwarts castle—after all, Aurors weren't like Dementors; they wouldn't harm students without cause.
Soon, students discovered that Dementors had been replaced by Aurors.
The happiest about this were the Weasley twins.
Because of the Dementors' presence, they had been cautious and restrained.
After all, the Marauder's Map wouldn't show Dementors' names.
Though the probability was small, there was still the possibility of encountering a Dementor.
Now they could finally be a bit bolder during their nighttime adventures.
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