"So," Hodge Blackthorn asked Tonks, "how'd you end up here?"
"Oh," Tonks said cheerfully, "just luck, really. I was wandering around the school, popped into the Hufflepuff common room and the kitchens to grab a bite, and when I came out, I asked someone where you might be. That Bones girl said you were probably on the second floor investigating some clues—" She tilted her head toward Hodge. "Things have been a bit rough lately, haven't they? Ghosts getting attacked. Kingsley mentioned it." She went on, "So I was strolling around the second floor, heard some noise, and came to check it out—lo and behold, it's you lot."
Hodge followed her lead. "Kingsley? How many people from the Ministry are here?"
"Four in total," Tonks replied. "Me, Kingsley, you already know about, then John, and… Umbridge." Her face scrunched up at the last name.
"Umbridge?" Hodge asked softly. "She's done copying files? Fudge actually let her out to wreak havoc again?" He wasn't surprised. Ever since Fudge had mentioned her name, he'd had a feeling.
"Oh, the original plan was just three of us," Tonks explained. "Umbridge volunteered herself. She managed to convince Fudge that a small team needs someone to handle paperwork and communication, as if none of us have mouths of our own."
"Hang on," Ron interjected. "This Umbridge you're talking about—please tell me it's not who I'm thinking of." His eyes drooped, and his mouth fell open in an exaggerated grimace, like a less-than-convincing toad. Everyone caught his meaning.
"That's the one," Tonks confirmed.
"If I remember right," Ron said, looking at Hodge, "she dragged you to the Ministry for questioning last Christmas, didn't she?"
Hodge nodded. "And that's why she got sacked from the Wizengamot and stuck copying old files by Fudge. But she's a former senior Ministry official, isn't she? Figures she'd claw her way back. Fudge can't do without her."
He recounted to Tonks how he'd run into Fudge in the second-floor corridor.
Tonks looked thoughtful. "I reckon Umbridge getting reinstated has something to do with the Selwyn family. They donated a hefty sum to the Ministry recently."
"Are they related?" Ron asked bluntly.
"Who knows," Tonks said. "Some say her dad was just a lowly janitor, but she's been bending over backwards to tie herself to the Selwyns."
Harry couldn't help glancing at Ron.
"Oh, don't look at me," Ron said without missing a beat. "The Weasleys are notorious blood traitors, aren't we, Ginny? My dad says when they were compiling the Sacred Twenty-Eight list, the Potters were in the running—your dad's line, Harry. But your family was even more radical than ours, always banging on about marrying Muggles. In fact, you can trace your line back to some weird old wizard named Stinchcombe in the 12th century."
Harry blinked. "I didn't even know that."
Ron waved a hand smugly. "Different upbringings, Harry. I might not know what a 'telephone' is, but some things just stick with you growing up."
"Maybe," Ginny chimed in. "I seem to recall someone pestering Mum over the summer about…"
"Oh, shut it," Ron cut her off.
Hodge waited for their banter to die down, half-listening to the gossip, before steering the conversation back. "So, if I head to the Quidditch pitch right now, there's a chance I'd run into her?" He let out a cold laugh.
"What a delightful reunion that'd be."
A chill ran down everyone's spines.
"Er… you mentioned Dumbledore and Fudge had a row?" Hermione asked cautiously.
Hodge reined in his emotions and considered it fairly. "Not exactly a row. Dumbledore refused to let Dementors into the school, and Fudge didn't push too hard… Are you suggesting there's tension between them?"
Hermione shook her head slightly, uncertain. "I just feel like it's not that simple. If Fudge took the Selwyns' advice, he could've given Umbridge some quiet desk job. There's no need for her to be out here drawing attention… at least, that's how I'd see it from Fudge's perspective."
Hodge fell into thought. He knew Fudge and Dumbledore would clash spectacularly when Voldemort returned, eventually leading to a complete fallout. But things had already shifted. From what he'd read in the papers, Fudge had sent people to Albania, suggesting he wasn't entirely convinced of Voldemort's "death." Hodge suspected it tied back to Mr. Wickham's testimony, which brought him back to Umbridge. Did she have some secret information that let her stage this comeback?
He filed the thought away for later.
Next, Tonks eagerly took charge of training Harry and the others in dueling. From her enthusiastic energy, Hodge figured her days at the Auror training grounds weren't exactly a picnic. Facing off against seasoned Aurors like Moody and Kingsley probably left her stressed, so the chance to teach others sparked her excitement.
"Stay on your guard at all times!" she shouted out of nowhere, startling everyone.
"I know," Harry said, digging a finger in his ear, "but you were just explaining the trick to the Stunning Spell."
"Oh, sorry, got carried away." Tonks checked the time. "It's about time I head back—told Kingsley I was stepping out for a breather." She waved a hand grandly. "So—let's test what you've learned." She strode toward the center of the training area, only to trip over a mat.
"Oops! Didn't see that."
Harry eyed her skeptically, seriously doubting her practical skills. But Tonks quickly proved herself worthy of being the only Hogwarts graduate in recent years to join the Auror ranks. Harry found he was no match for her. After a few rounds, he was panting, fully aware of the gap between them—and she wasn't even an official Auror yet.
Finally, Tonks challenged Hodge to a friendly match.
Or rather, a tug-of-war.
Hodge wanted to test his own skills and went all out, short of using any heavy-hitting spells. To Harry, it looked like Hodge was performing magic with the Shield Charm—he could sustain it for a decent amount of time, rapidly conjuring multiple magical barriers to use as cover, then launching bold, precise attacks. His spells shot from his wand like arrows.
Tonks, on the other hand, moved with a different flair. Her professional training was evident in her crisp, efficient movements. Most crucially, her casting speed was lightning-fast. Harry saw her summon a shimmering shield to block a spell, then dissolve it instantly to launch a fierce counterattack.
Harry watched, wide-eyed, soaking in every detail with the same focus he used to spot the Golden Snitch on the Quidditch pitch. After what felt like ages, both lowered their wands, agreeing to call it a draw and fight again another day.
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