The death of the elder Crabbes was no small matter, and it didn't take long for the Ministry of Magic's Aurors to swoop in. The incident even drew a crowd of high-ranking officials from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Three figures stood out among the rest.
Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and a member of the Wizengamot.
Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office.
And Corban Yaxley, Head of the Magical Injury Assessment Office.
These three were forces to be reckoned with, especially Umbridge, who had a reputation for being particularly domineering. The moment she arrived, her sharp eyes zeroed in on the Hogwarts students.
Or rather, to someone like Umbridge—who'd clawed her way up from humble beginnings to the top of the wizarding world's social ladder—the room full of mostly pure-blood families was glaringly offensive.
She clearly had plans to make a move, but one presence instantly put a damper on her intentions.
Even Scrimgeour, the tough-as-nails Auror leader, and Yaxley, the seasoned bureaucrat, had to tone down their usual intensity.
That presence? None other than Daily Prophet's infamous reporter, Rita Skeeter.
Heh, that's the power of Ravenclaw for you—forcing three Slytherin-born bigwigs to play nice.
Rita wasn't intimidated by these so-called important figures. In fact, she thrived on taking them down a peg. She'd even gone after Dumbledore before, so a few Ministry bureaucrats were small potatoes in her eyes.
The second these three showed up, Rita was buzzing with excitement. She leaned in close to Gilderoy Lockhart, whispering that this was the perfect chance to make his new book, Where Dark Creatures Lurk, a runaway hit. Forget just topping the bestseller lists—she wanted its sales to outstrip every other book combined.
Then, she'd stir up a juicy debate about whether Where Dark Creatures Lurk or Newt Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was the definitive work. The goal? To catapult Lockhart's name to the same legendary status as Scamander's.
How does one earn the title of a master of magic?
In Rita's eyes, this was how.
Don't think she's doing this out of kindness, though. Once she's done milking Newt's fame, Lockhart's next on her list. And the best part? Lockhart would play right along. That's the Ravenclaw way—a deal's a deal.
For now, though, it wasn't time for that. The immediate plan was to capitalize on Umbridge, Scrimgeour, and Yaxley. It was a shame Minister Fudge hadn't shown up—his presence would've made the story even juicier.
Rita told Lockhart to act tough later, promising to snap a photo of him standing protectively in front of the students, facing off against these "corrupt, stench-ridden" Ministry officials. That image would rocket Lockhart to the top of wizarding society's hot topics, riding the Ministry's notoriety all the way.
Hmm…
Truth be told, Lockhart had no choice but to go along with it.
Because Umbridge was already overstepping, barking orders at Aurors like Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks, demanding they start checking everyone's wands immediately.
That was a problem. After their adventures in a fairy-tale world and battles against dark wizards and werewolves, some of the young witches and wizards might have crossed a few lines with their magic.
The biggest issue? Hermione's wand. One Priori Incantato spell, and—oops—there's an Unforgivable Curse. Umbridge wouldn't hesitate to ship Hermione off to Azkaban, not caring one bit whether Hermione actually cast it or not.
If Dumbledore stepped in to protect his students, even better. It'd give Umbridge, who was always pushing for more Ministry control over Hogwarts, extra leverage in negotiations.
Lockhart wasn't so sure Rita would stick by him in that scenario or if she'd chase the bigger, more scandalous story instead.
"This is not a good idea!"
He strode forward, planting himself confidently in front of Kingsley, his face radiating genuine concern for the students. "We're victims here too! The elder Crabbes died protecting these kids. If it weren't for them, you'd be walking into a room full of dead students!"
"Treating them like criminals and checking their wands will only hurt them more! They don't deserve this!"
Kingsley clearly wasn't thrilled about the task either, his eyes flicking to his boss, Scrimgeour, for guidance.
Scrimgeour was even less pleased. He was furious at Umbridge for overstepping his authority, and he hated the idea of targeting victims before the investigation had even started. It only made the case harder to crack.
But the past six months had been rough for him. His reputation was in tatters after a string of disasters: a professor's mysterious death at Hogwarts, supposedly the safest place in the world (Quirrell); a break-in at Gringotts, the so-called most secure location (Voldemort's failed Horcrux transfer); and the opening of Hogwarts' Chamber of Secrets, nearly killing two students.
The Aurors hadn't been able to solve any of it—they barely had a chance to get involved. The public didn't care about excuses, though, and the Auror Office, tasked with keeping the wizarding world safe, was taking a beating. Scrimgeour, carrying the weight of all this, couldn't afford to stand up to Umbridge as confidently as he'd like.
Umbridge shoved past Tonks, glaring up at the towering Lockhart. "Are you defying the Ministry's orders?!"
Lockhart didn't flinch. Flashing a dazzling smile, he said, "The Ministry? Even if Death Eaters came for my students, they'd have to step over my dead body first."
"Death Eaters?" Umbridge flinched, taking an involuntary step back before snapping, "You should know better than to throw that term around lightly!"
"Because it was Death Eaters who attacked us!" Lockhart shot back, his voice cold as he loomed over her. "Everyone knows Voldemort's back, purging his traitors. The one who attacked us was Fenrir Greyback, one of his most loyal followers. Are you sure you want to get mixed up in this, Umbridge?"
"You…"
Her face paled, the bravado draining away as Lockhart's words hit home. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Still want to meddle, knowing what's at stake?"
Umbridge swallowed hard, her eyes darting away, unable to meet his gaze.
But don't be fooled—Umbridge wasn't some weak-willed pushover. A half-blood witch from a lowly background, the daughter of a Ministry janitor, she'd fought tooth and nail to become Undersecretary. Her inner strength was ironclad; mere words or unverified rumors wouldn't rattle her.
Lockhart, however, had a trick up his sleeve.
A subtle one.
It was a technique that unleashed the wild, untamed part of his psyche, projecting it in a way that barely registered as magic. He let the caged werewolf within him slip into his gaze, his voice, radiating a primal, predatory aura.
It was like the chilling effect a Dementor had on a wizard—shivers, dread, and a plunge into dark emotions. The wild werewolf locked in Lockhart's soul had a similar dark influence, a force rooted in the blackest of magic.
Magic wasn't just a tool like a Muggle's gun. It was woven into every aspect of a wizard's life, ever-present.
Magic was power—not just in combat, but in presence.
Forget Rita's hyped-up version of a "master of magic." In this moment, Lockhart was truly stepping into that role, claiming the authority that came with it.
Authority like the respect he now commanded from these Ministry officials.
Not the kind of respect born from deals or negotiations, but the kind that forced wizards without strong mental defenses to bow to him—like rabbits before a tiger.
Umbridge's face went from pale to flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't bear the thought of her Ministry subordinates mocking her for this moment of weakness. But she didn't dare challenge Lockhart again, leaving her stuck in an awkward limbo.
A voice broke the tension.
"What's going on here?"
Minister Cornelius Fudge had arrived!
And with him, Albus Dumbledore!
Fudge was far savvier than Umbridge. One glance at the scene—the positions of everyone, the expressions on their faces—and he'd already sized it up.
He brushed past Umbridge and the others, making a beeline for Harry Potter in the corner. Grabbing the boy's hand, he looked him over with exaggerated concern, then sighed in relief. "The children are all okay? No one's hurt?"
"Scrimgeour! Scrimgeour!" he called to the Auror Head. "Get the Aurors to take the kids to St. Mungo's for a check-up. We need to make sure they're all right!"
That's a Minister of Magic for you.
His arrival defused the tension in an instant, and he smoothly took charge, handling the situation with finesse.
He tasked Umbridge with escorting the students to St. Mungo's, neatly sidelining her from the scene.
Severus Snape went along with the students, not trusting the Aurors one bit and wary of another sudden attack.
The bodies of the dark wizards and werewolves at the Crabbe family's Quidditch fish farm were quickly cleared out. The sight of those wanted criminals, logged by the Aurors, sent chills down spines.
Merlin's snot bubbles!
Fudge looked like he might faint, dreading the public backlash the Ministry was about to face. Wiping sweat from his brow, he kept glancing at Rita, worried this would become fodder for attacks against him.
Maybe it was time to toss that nosy reporter a bone.
Being Minister of Magic was hard.
Corban Yaxley, Head of the Magical Injury Assessment Office, was equally uneasy. He was certain his involvement in the attack was untraceable—Fenrir Greyback, that dim-witted werewolf, had no idea who'd set things in motion.
But…
He could've sworn he saw Lockhart pointing at him, whispering something to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore's face was unreadable, standing there in silence, but the weight of his presence was suffocating.
(End of Chapter)