chapter 30

Lord Malfoy took another sip of tea from his cup, observing the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, as he absentmindedly chewed a piece of cake. This was one of their many convivial meetings, where light banter flowed easily. However, the mood was about to shift.

"Minister," the blonde wizard began, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone. "We've granted Dumbledore too much leeway in governing Hogwarts. I am rather concerned about the quality of education my children are receiving." Cornelius, buoyed by the afternoon tea and a few Galleons slipped into his pocket at the start of their chat, nodded, encouraging Lucius to elaborate. "While many subjects remain solid, the ongoing turnover of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors is detrimental to the students' development. And let's not overlook the caliber of the professors: Dumbledore doesn't seem to hire the best candidates."

"Indeed, Lucius," Cornelius replied, agreeing. "I've heard the last professor was utterly incompetent, barely teaching anything at all." Lord Malfoy nodded in acknowledgment.

"Exactly. This past year, the children—the future of our world—had to fend for themselves in DADA." To Lucius, this lack of guidance was particularly troublesome for pure-blood children. After all, it was pointless for the 'riffraff' to possess any real knowledge about magic that they had 'stolen' from its rightful owners. "It's high time the Ministry dispatched someone qualified to adequately prepare our children for defense."

"I'll see what I can do," Fudge said. "But our Auror corps are stretched thin in these troubled times." Lucius accepted this, but his mind was already racing with possibilities.

"Of course, you need our valiant Aurors protecting the citizens of Magical Britain from lurking evils," he acknowledged. "However, I am confident the Ministry can spare someone from a predominantly bureaucratic role for this purpose…" Lucius paused, before delivering a defining argument for Cornelius to consider. "I've heard young Potter isn't on the best of terms with Dumbledore. Should the Ministry offer him something that the old man cannot provide—like a proper education—I'm certain he will side with you instead of the headmaster." Lucius watched Fudge's expression shift, clearly envisioning the political power he could gain with Potter's allegiance.

"Of course, Lucius," Fudge affirmed. "There must be someone among my subordinates eager to assist the new generation… As I recall, my undersecretary excelled in defense during her time at Hogwarts." Another lie. "I'll inquire if she's willing to take on the DADA position."

"Thank you, Minister. That's all I can ask," Lord Malfoy replied smoothly. "Now, shall we discuss Tornado's recent match? Personally, I believe that…" He skillfully redirected the conversation back to small talk, laying the groundwork for further suggestions, this time concerning the new Werewolf Bill…

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Harry found himself lamenting the inventor of the potion he had taken to augment his magic during the destruction of the ring Horcrux. While the brewing process was fast and easy, the taste was repugnant, and the side effects were unbearable. It had been two days since he raided the Gaunt shack and obliterated the foul ring, yet he was still grappling with excruciating pain, his body barely able to move, and his magic nearly non-existent. He hoped to recover in the next week; otherwise, he would need to rethink his strategy for appearing before the Wizengamot. It wouldn't do for him—barely thirteen—to show up with power that resembled that of a squib.

With the ring Horcrux eliminated, Voldemort was down to four pieces of his soul, and before Halloween, he would only have two remaining. Though still too many to render the dark lord wholly mortal, Harry was making progress, especially with the snake's whereabouts unknown and Hufflepuff's cup safely secured in Gringotts.

Stuck in a haze of potion-induced agony, Harry began mapping out his responses for when the dark lord returned. Given his access to Voldemort's memories, he understood that the dark lord would seek a new body sooner or later. Since killing him while any Horcruxes remained was futile, Harry decided he needed a different approach to confront Voldemort—something that would finish the monster off, regardless of his soul's anchors… But what could that be?

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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore perused the application papers before him, reading them first one way, then another, then again, to confirm he wasn't dreaming. After all, it had been years since anyone had willingly applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor position at Hogwarts, a job cursed since its inception. Yet there it was, an application submitted by the senior undersecretary of the Minister for Magic himself.

Though Dumbledore had planned to approach a different candidate for the position, he found himself at a loss as Remus Lupin had seemingly vanished from all correspondence. With only a week remaining before the deadline—the professors' meeting on June 18, at which student book lists for the upcoming year would be approved—Dumbledore felt the pressure mounting.

He scanned the application one final time, sighing heavily. With no communication from Remus, he had no choice but to consider hiring Madam Umbridge for the role. Though the events of the previous year—specifically Gilderoy Lockhart's tenure—had shown him the risks of hiring unqualified individuals, Dumbledore reasoned that the senior undersecretary of the Minister could not possibly be anything but competent in DADA.

With reluctance, he penned a response to Dolores Umbridge's application, informing her of the upcoming professors' meeting so that her course materials could be approved alongside those of her colleagues.

Upon completing his letter, Dumbledore summoned one of the Hogwarts owls, attaching the missive to its leg. The owl hooted and swiftly took to the skies, vanishing into the gathering dusk, en route to deliver Dumbledore's message to Dolores Umbridge…

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Madam Umbridge, the senior undersecretary, didn't particularly care for dealing with students, especially those she viewed as beneath her—namely, anyone not from a pureblood family. Despite this, she felt a surge of satisfaction at being accepted as the DADA professor. Why? With this position, she could mold the half-blood Potter boy into a symbol for the Ministry, solidifying her and Cornelius's hold on power for years to come. Should the brat refuse to cooperate, she would ensure he faced consequences that would disable any prospects for a respectable future in Magical Britain.

Moreover, by joining Hogwarts, she could exert some influence over the education of those she deemed unworthy—everyone except the British purebloods. She would demonstrate that purebloods were the elite of the magical world and that all others were mere dirt beneath their feet!

However, with Dumbledore and his allies in place, running her discriminatory agenda openly would be impossible. To execute her plans from the shadows, she needed to be seen favorably by her colleagues. Thus, she quickly offloaded her current responsibilities onto a substitute, dedicating herself to crafting persuasive speeches for the forthcoming professors' meeting…

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Tiberius Ogden, an honorary member of the Wizengamot and the creator of the most popular fire whiskey recipe, stepped onto the stage at the center of the chamber. On days when Dumbledore was absent, he served as acting chief warlock.

"Good day, lords and ladies of the Wizengamot. Welcome to the second summer session of 1993. Before we commence with today's agenda, I would like to welcome Lord Potter into this esteemed body." The thirty wizards and witches present turned to Harry, who rose from his seat to make a customary speech, as new members were expected to do.

"Thank you, Master Ogden," the green-eyed boy said with a slight bow. He wasn't accustomed to the formal robes required of Wizengamot members, so he attempted to keep his movements minimal. "Lords and Ladies, I appreciate your acceptance as one of your equals…" He chose to overlook the disdainful sounds from representatives of several darker families. "And I vow to uphold the traditions and conduct codes of this esteemed assembly to the best of my abilities." Harry took a brief pause. "Though I may be here earlier than any of us had anticipated, the Potter ring has deemed me worthy, and I am committed to fulfilling the duties of the head of the Noble House of Potter." His words might have earned him some goodwill among the Hufflepuff members, crafting an image of a diligent young man striving to navigate responsibilities that were still too hefty for him—after all, he was now a lord before reaching thirteen. He was about to continue, but Tiberius raised his hand, signaling that he had spoken enough.

"Thank you, Lord Potter," Ogden replied. "Now that you are recognized as part of this esteemed body, let us proceed with the session." Once everyone was settled, the acting chief warlock moved forward. "First on our agenda is the werewolf bill proposed by our Minister for Magic." He began reading the document, a task that consumed almost half an hour before the discussions could commence.

The darker families supported the bill, asserting that those afflicted with lycanthropy should be barred from employment in the magical world, closely monitored by 'minders'. Meanwhile, the lighter families argued that werewolves were no less human (even with their monthly issues), asserting that the bill was discriminatory and detrimental to the wizarding community.

Having studied psychology, Harry understood that labeling werewolves as less than human would only perpetuate their issues, resulting in more chaos. Thus, he sided with those advocating against the bill's passage.

Finally, it came time to vote. As acting chief warlock, Tiberius Ogden conducted the procedure.

"All in favor of werewolf bill #93-121," he announced. Immediately, nine wands rose—each belonging to members of the darker families. After counting, the wands were lowered. "All against bill #93-121." This time, around eighteen wands, including Harry's, were raised. Ogden tallied them and declared the result: "Eighteen against nine; the werewolf bill #93-121 is rejected." Some murmurs of dissatisfaction arose from the darker families, but they had no power to contest the decision. "Now, we turn to the next item of business: decree #93-317 regarding a new taxation structure on Class C potion sales…" He proceeded to read the details, launching into another lengthy discussion.

The topics were so tedious that Harry began to question his choice to endure the entire session. Boredom threatened to consume him. Yet, leaving during the scheduled recess wouldn't be appropriate—especially today. He needed to create a favorable impression on his fellow lords and ladies; slipping away would only sabotage his efforts. If only he'd secured a proxy in advance—he wouldn't have to endure all of this.

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The next morning, Dumbledore sat in the Great Hall for breakfast, reflecting on the previous day's professors' meeting. Despite her condescending demeanor and questionable fashion sense, Madam Umbridge had made a good impression on her peers. Nevertheless, Dumbledore was far from oblivious; he recognized that her motivations for taking the DADA position were likely self-serving. Unfortunately, he had no means of discerning her true intentions—at least not yet. It would be unwise to enact countermeasures without understanding her agenda; he needed every ounce of his power for the Greater Good.

An owl, bearing the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, swooped into the Great Hall and landed in front of him. After slipping the bird five knuts for its service, Dumbledore opened the paper and began to read, sipping tea as he did so. The werewolf bill had been vetoed—good news. The potions sales tax decree had been sent back for review—not ideal, especially as its passage would further sour his relationship with Severus Snape. The remaining bills discussed weren't worth his attention.

Suddenly, a familiar name caught his eye amidst the text. Indeed, the article confirmed Harry Potter had been acknowledged as the new Lord Potter. This was troubling; Harry's new status complicating Dumbledore's ability to guide the boy toward the Greater Good of the magical world was concerning.

Though not everything was lost, Harry's ascension into legal adulthood mandated that Dumbledore tread more carefully than usual. He needed to maintain control of events to ensure that the light side prevailed, particularly with the young Potter—perceived as the Chosen One, now more than ever—serving as their figurehead. Shaking his head, the ancient headmaster set the newspaper aside and initiated plotting to bring about his vision of the Greater Good.

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Completely oblivious to the machinations of the old man, Harry exited Gringotts Bank. He had two reasons for his visit to the goblin institution today. First, the goblin artisans had requested his presence to ensure the details of the sabers they were crafting were to his satisfaction. Harry felt pleased to learn that the swords were almost complete. The second reason for his visit was to pay off the final amount owed for the restoration and upkeep of his Potter properties. Surprisingly, the total was less than he anticipated—a welcome development.

Speaking of his properties, although he found the penthouse in London pleasant, he had fallen in love with the summer house located at Birling Gap. It wasn't large, smaller than Salazar's cottage, with only two bedrooms (one master, the other a guest room), but it was decorated tastefully and situated in a breathtaking locale beside the Seven Sisters chalk cliffs. A small private sandy beach accompanied the house, complete with a pier large enough for a couple of yachts.

Regrettably, Harry realized, this summer was too jam-packed for relaxation, despite how much he yearned for it. He still needed to establish anti-portkey wards in the Chamber of Secrets and deal with another of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Additionally, he had plans to facilitate the destruction of the diadem Horcrux at Hogwarts, as he couldn't afford to spend days in recovery with his magic drained, raising unwarranted questions. Lastly, he was still on the lookout for a proxy to assist with his Wizengamot vote, hoping Violet would soon find someone suitable, though he wasn't solely relying on her efforts. He was determined to seek out a capable wizard or witch for the task himself…