A gentle evening breeze stirred through the open window, causing the oil lamp hanging from a rough wooden beam in Hagrid's cramped hut to sway slightly on its chain.
The flickering, unsteady light casted shadows across the faces of Dumbledore and Bryan, who sat on opposite sides of the wooden table. The wavering light lent a sharp, almost sinister edge to two faces that typically embodied tolerance, wisdom, and dignity.
"So you're saying—"
Dumbledore's silver-white beard swayed gently as he shifted position, looking directly at Bryan with sharp attention and speaking calmly, "You intend to refuse the Ministry's request outright?"
"I have absolutely no reason to accept the Ministry's blatant attempt to plant a spy at Hogwarts, do I?"
Bryan spoke with complete candor, his tone straightforward.
"Rather than let them waltz in to cause us trouble and undermine everything we're trying to accomplish, it's far better to keep them out totally from the beginning. Deny them entry."
"But you know as well as I do that Cornelius has made up his mind to interfere in Hogwarts affairs, to exert control," Dumbledore continued with patience. "Whether it's you or me refusing, I'm afraid our objections alone won't be enough to make him back down."
Though his words were discouraging and realistic, Bryan could tell from subtle tension in the Headmaster's posture that he also deeply resented the Ministry's presumptuous meddling in Hogwarts matters.
Bryan knew this resistance wasn't because Dumbledore had any territorial instincts or didn't want the Ministry encroaching on his personal authority as Headmaster—if Dumbledore truly thought in such petty terms, concerned only with power, he wouldn't be the Dumbledore that history knew.
Rather, more graciously, Dumbledore didn't want political struggles and bureaucratic infighting to interfere with Hogwarts' normal teaching activities, with the education of children. That was what mattered to him.
Anyone with half a brain could figure out that Fudge's convenient recommendation of his Senior Undersecretary Umbridge to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts wasn't truly about improving education or student welfare.
Tap, tap, tap—
Bryan's fingers drummed rhythmically on the table's surface as he fell into deep thought, his mind was working through possibilities.
Refusing the Ministry's request was simple enough in principle, straightforward even, but the complex political maneuvering hidden behind this seemingly innocent matter couldn't be discussed openly or resolved with simple denial.
"According to the traditional regulations, the Ministry has no legal right to interfere in Hogwarts' internal educational affairs," Bryan said slowly, thinking aloud. "The authority to appoint professors belongs exclusively to the Headmaster by ancient charter, unless..."
"Unless the Ministry passes relevant new legislation, writing that authority explicitly into law and overriding tradition."
Dumbledore had obviously contemplated these precise issues broadly before this conversation. His bright eyes grew slightly cold, hardening with recognition of the threat.
"But we both know well, Bryan, that's not actually a problem for Cornelius. If I tell him firmly that his Senior Undersecretary isn't suitable for a teaching position at Hogwarts, then Cornelius will simply push through the appropriate legislation to override my objection.
He can accomplish all of this through proper channels—it's his right as Minister of Magic. We'd be competing with him in the political arena, and once he actually does manage it, we'd undoubtedly be at a severe disadvantage. The law would be against us."
Bryan nodded slightly in agreement. Dumbledore's assessment was completely correct, and his analysis sound.
Moreover, Bryan believed with certainty that Fudge had already prepared his backup plans before sending this seemingly polite letter to Hogwarts—if met with refusal from the school, he would immediately use the Wizengamot to push through a hastily drafted new legislation.
Fudge wielded significantly more direct political power in the current situation, and the influential Daily Prophet was firmly in the Ministry's pocket, would print whatever they wanted.
If Bryan wanted to prevent new legislation from passing through proper channels, he would have to resort to threatening the wizards serving in the Wizengamot, intimidating them into voting his way.
Threats weren't impossible—Bryan certainly had the personal power and reputation to make them effective. But such crude, heavy-handed methods would ultimately erode Bryan's own authority and moral standing in the long term.
Heavy silence fell over the hut. Even Hagrid stopped his sorrowful sniffling and wiping, afraid to disturb Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson's tense discussion of this serious matter with his grief.
"Perhaps the time has finally come—"
Bryan broke the oppressive silence deliberately. Meeting Dumbledore's curious, questioning gaze, a strange light flickered in his pale purple eyes.
"You mean?"
"Do you remember the conversation we had before the start of last term, Headmaster Dumbledore, about how to properly maintain Hogwarts' autonomy from Ministry interference—"
A peculiar, mysterious smile appeared on Bryan's face. "Since my trip to New York, the greatest obstacle to achieving this goal has been unexpectedly resolved. I think perhaps we can take full advantage of this particular situation Fudge has created—turn it against him."
Jumping from the current pressing issue of the Ministry preparing to interfere with Hogwarts' personnel appointments to the much broader, more ambitious question of how to ensure Hogwarts' complete autonomy—even with Dumbledore's keen mind and decades of political experience, he was momentarily stunned by the logical leap.
But even after recovering his composure, even after processing what Bryan had said, Dumbledore still couldn't fully understand what the deeply meaningful smile on Bryan's face truly meant, what plan was forming.
However, that didn't prevent him from immediately realizing that Bryan was about to intensely escalate the situation far beyond a simple personnel dispute.
"What exactly do you plan to do, Bryan?"
Dumbledore asked cautiously, concern creeping into his voice.
"I must remind you that the enemy we and the Ministry must face together is Tom. Under current circumstances, with Voldemort returned, intensifying internal strife and division would be extremely unwise, perhaps catastrophic."
"Oh, this time I'm afraid Voldemort will actually be on our side—an ally of convenience—"
Bryan smiled with dark amusement, but his cryptic words made Dumbledore's expression shift vividly. He frowned deeply, alarm rising sharply in his heart.
"What do you intend to do, Bryan?" he repeated again this time more firmly.
Bryan didn't answer his question directly. Instead, he picked up the official letter from the table and looked at it again thoughtfully, studying the wording.
"The official letter doesn't specify a deadline for your response, Headmaster Dumbledore. I hope you'll temporarily refrain from replying to the Ministry—delay your answer. Before that happens, I need to arrange a meeting with Lucius Malfoy urgently."
Lucius Malfoy had already secretly pledged his complete loyalty to Bryan months ago. His written letter of allegiance was still securely in Bryan's possession.
"And then what happens?"
Dumbledore glanced casually toward the distant castle, its windows glowing warmly, his speech quickening slightly with anticipation.
"Then you can tell the Ministry—tell Cornelius Fudge directly and firmly, that the Ministry has absolutely no right to interfere with the personnel appointment authority that belongs solely and exclusively to the Headmaster of Hogwarts by ancient tradition. And you must tell Fudge clearly that only the Board of Governors has the right to give orders to the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Not him."
Sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, Hagrid clutched his dirty handkerchief tightly, listening in a complete daze to this political discussion far beyond his understanding.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore's bright blue eyes, after a long moment of cloudy confusion, suddenly brightened with rising understanding.
"You're planning to... Bryan, this could indeed achieve your aim, but it seems rather—"
"I'll have Lucius Malfoy set a baited trap for Fudge," Bryan interrupted smoothly, smiling inscrutably.
He too glanced toward the distant castle through Hagrid's small window, then stood fluidly and stretched, his expression becoming noticeably more cheerful. He looked at Hagrid, who was blinking his clear but thoroughly confused eyes.
"Well then, I'll take my leave now, Hagrid. I've had an exhausting journey and really should get a proper night's sleep before starting my new work tomorrow. Of course, you should do the same—you look terrible."
"Oh!"
The topic ended somewhat abruptly, leaving many questions unanswered. Hagrid stood up in bewilderment.
"You're heading back already? Professor Watson... Well, all right then. Wouldn't you like some more tea? Rock cakes?"
"Thank you kindly, Hagrid, but drinking too much tea before bed isn't a wise choice for quality sleep."
Bryan picked up his suitcase and headed for the door.
"Bryan is absolutely right—you really should rest properly for a few days, Hagrid—"
Dumbledore also stood gracefully, saying with warm concern,
"I can allow you to start your Care of Magical Creatures classes next Monday instead of immediately. That way you won't have to face the potentially awkward concern and endless questions from curious students right away."
Dumbledore looked meaningfully at the obvious bruising around Hagrid's swollen eyes and smiled with gentle mischief.
"Besides, you'll need several days to help your brother Grawp adjust to his new environment in the Forest. That's more important."
"Oh, much obliged, Professor Dumbledore! You're very kind!"
Hagrid said gratefully in his booming, rumbling voice.
The two wizards walked side by side across the moonlit lawn, which shimmered with faint silvery light in the darkness. A gentle breeze accompanied them pleasantly toward the looming castle. Both looked straight ahead with purpose, walking directly toward the marble steps.
"Ah—"
Suddenly, a short cry filled with pain tore through the peaceful harmony of the night. Dumbledore and Bryan both immediately stopped in their tracks, freezing mid-step.
Dumbledore's silver eyebrows furrowed slightly with concern. He narrowed his eyes, observing the vast grounds carefully with attention. Seeming to find nothing visible in the darkness, he looked questioningly at the notably emotionless Bryan standing beside him.
"What do you think that sound was, Bryan? Student out of bed?"
"Perhaps just an owl hunting—"
Bryan shrugged with casualness.
"You know, Headmaster Dumbledore, owls are nocturnal creatures by nature. They love to be active at night, hunting mice. Sometimes they cry out."
"A very perceptive deduction—quite logical—"
Dumbledore's long silver-white beard fluttered in the breeze, his expression was deliberately solemn.
"I do hope this particular owl will quickly return to the Owlery to rest properly. After all, they need to be alert to deliver our mail efficiently during the day. Can't have exhausted owls."
With that meaningful conversation, the two resumed walking at a leisurely pace, ascending the marble steps together. Their figures disappeared into the dark Entrance Hall.
A whimper as faint as mosquitoes buzzing was hidden within the howling wind. All things slumbered peacefully with the sound of the breeze.
Whoosh!
Half a minute later, in the thick grass several dozen feet from where Bryan and Dumbledore had just been standing, Hermione suddenly threw off the Invisibility Cloak with desperate relief and jumped off Ron's back. Ron likewise climbed stiffly off Harry's back, and all three collapsed to the ground breathing heavily.
"Phew—"
Wiping cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, Ron panted heavily, gasping.
"Good thing they mistook us for an owl! Brilliant!"
"Your intelligence can probably only be fairly compared to an owl's at best!"
Hermione snapped irritably, though her voice was low.
Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson's hints had been so obvious—they'd tacitly approved of the three of them visiting Hagrid secretly but clearly hoped they would quickly return to their warm four-poster beds afterward rather than lingering further deep in the night.
After snapping at the bewildered Ron, Hermione quickly turned with concern to look at Harry, who lay flat on the damp ground, his face was as pale as a sheet of parchment, his green eyes had turned blank and bleary.
Harry's appearance made Hermione momentarily dazed, her breath quickened with alarm. But she quickly recovered her composure and asked with heavy concern tinging her words,
"Your scar hurt again, didn't it, Harry? That's why you cried out?"
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