[Effective immediately, Dolores Umbridge is appointed as the first Senior Inquisitor.]
[The Senior Inquisitor may evaluate professors' competence and has the authority to dismiss unqualified professors, with the Ministry of Magic appointing replacements.]
Pushing through the crowd, Wayne saw the prominently displayed new notice. Beside it was another notice with a slightly smaller font.
[Hogwarts High Inquisitor Decree - All student organisations, societies, teams, and clubs are hereby disbanded.]
[Be it defined that organisations, societies, teams, and clubs refer to regular gatherings of three or more students.]
[Permission to re-establish may be sought from the Senior Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).]
[No student organisation, society, team, or club may exist without the approval of the Senior Inquisitor.]
[Any student found participating in an unapproved... will immediately receive at least one week's detention and have their parents notified.]
[The above decree is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.]
"Will they close the High Stepping Stones Club?" a second-year student asked anxiously.
"It should be fine," his friend said while pondering, "But if I want to find people to play multiplayer duels in Magic Awakened, would I need to apply every time?"
"Or should I apply to start a gaming club?"
"Play freely, I can guarantee Umbridge won't trouble you for playing games," Wayne spoke up after reading the notice.
Hearing his assurance, many young wizards around showed relieved smiles.
After they left, another group arrived, including the twins. Seeing Wayne standing there deep in thought, Fred curiously patted his shoulder.
"What are you thinking about?"
"I'm wondering..." Wayne said with a grave expression, speaking slowly, "If I were to date Cho, Astoria, and Hermione together, would I need to apply to Umbridge for a dating club and get her approval?"
Fred: "...."
'Damn, I really want to hit him right now.'
Of course, Wayne was joking. Umbridge's notice might be intimidating to others, but to him it was as useless as flatulence.
However, this also reflected Fudge's state of mind—he was already panicking.
Katerina's successful usurpation had affected him too greatly. With such an example, he probably feared Dumbledore might pop out from under his blankets while sleeping.
Giving Umbridge the title of Senior Inquisitor was also to have her quickly weaken Dumbledore's control over Hogwarts.
But compared to the original timeline, her authority was considerably reduced this time.
At least now, as Senior Inquisitor, Umbridge couldn't expel students. Without this ultimate weapon, students' fear of her would be somewhat less.
That afternoon, Wayne received a letter from Mr Chang, mentioning that Fudge wanted to meet with him.
...
In the suitcase miniature world.
"Why does Fudge want to contact you through my dad?" Cho asked curiously.
"He's afraid he can't get me to come if he asks directly," Wayne smiled, putting the letter away.
"Are you planning to go then?" Cho asked again.
"We'll talk about it at the weekend. I'm a good student, how could I just leave the school?"
After Wayne finished speaking, Cho's eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head. If they really counted the number of school rules broken, Wayne would undoubtedly be number one in Hogwarts history – the twins weren't fit to hold his shoes.
"Who do you think Umbridge will target first among the professors?" Hermione joined them after reading the notice.
"Anyone is possible, but..." Wayne stretched lazily, "I think it'll most likely be Trelawney."
Hermione looked thoughtful.
"If it really is Trelawney, that might actually be a good thing?"
"We'll see."
...
Without using his deduction skills, Wayne had clearly overestimated Umbridge's intelligence.
She obviously didn't understand the principle of picking the softest target first – her first inspection subject turned out to be Professor Flitwick.
During their sixth-year Charms class, Umbridge made a surprise visit. Flitwick didn't pay it much mind, treating her merely as a guest.
Umbridge attempted to ask several questions, but they were all easily deflected. The students spoke highly of Flitwick, leaving her empty-handed.
And her second choice... was even more shocking.
When Wayne and Hermione entered the Transfiguration classroom and saw Umbridge sitting alone at the very back, pretending to take notes with a notebook, they were both stunned.
"How dare she..." Hermione whispered, as if she couldn't believe her eyes. "Does she really think she's qualified to evaluate Professor McGonagall?"
Anyone who had been at the school for a few years knew what Professor McGonagall meant to Hogwarts – without her hard work maintaining everything, this broken school would have fallen apart long ago.
"Excellent." Unlike Hermione's shock, Wayne was excited. "Fight, fight, fight!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at the irresponsible boy and pulled him to sit at the front.
Soon, Professor McGonagall strode into the classroom – walking right past Umbridge without even glancing at her, as if she didn't exist.
"Right." Professor McGonagall began, and the classroom immediately fell silent. "Mr Finnigan, please come and hand out the homework. Mr Lawrence, distribute one mouse from this box to each student."
Wayne waved his wand, and the mice in the box automatically flew out, landing precisely in front of each person. Ron barely restrained the impulse to punch his to death.
Professor McGonagall secretly glared at the lazy Wayne but didn't say anything more.
"Ahem! Ahem!" Umbridge deliberately coughed.
Professor McGonagall pretended not to hear and continued with her lesson. "Most of you have managed to successfully cast the Vanishing Spell to make your snails disappear. Today we will—"
Umbridge coughed twice more.
"Do you have a problem?" Professor McGonagall looked at her, frowning deeply. "If not, please do not disturb my class."
"I merely wished to know whether you received my note, informing you of the date and time of—"
"Of course, I received it." Professor McGonagall interrupted her impatiently. "Or else you would not be here in my classroom."
Umbridge's face darkened. Professor McGonagall continued the lesson, explaining the key points to keep in mind when applying the Vanishing Spell to mice.
"Ahem! Ahem!"
"If you cough again, I shall have to ask you to leave!" Professor McGonagall snapped. "I fear your pneumonia might infect my students!"
The classroom erupted in laughter. Umbridge looked as if she'd been slapped, falling silent and furiously scribbling in her notebook instead.
Professor McGonagall paid her no mind whatsoever. The so-called inspection was none of her concern—given Umbridge's limited influence, getting anyone expelled would be impossible.
As students practised the Vanishing Spell on rats, Umbridge intercepted Professor McGonagall, who had been about to patrol the classroom.
"Don't you think the Vanishing Spell is too advanced for fifth-years?"
"This spell is dangerous. If they accidentally point their wands at classmates, it could have unpredictable consequences."
Hearing this excuse for picking faults, Professor McGonagall actually laughed in exasperation.
"They're fifth-years, not five-year-olds. If they'd make such elementary mistakes, they wouldn't deserve to be at Hogwarts in the first place."
"But can you guarantee there won't be any accidents?"
"No, I can't." Professor McGonagall looked at her mockingly. "But I can guarantee I've mastered the counter-charm for the Vanishing Spell. Whatever trouble they cause, I'm capable of handling it."
"Oh, I apologise. I'd forgotten you never made it into my advanced class - you're unfamiliar with 'sophisticated' transfiguration."
"My mistake, Professor Umbridge."
"Haha—mmph!"
The two professors happened to be standing near Ron and Harry during their exchange. Harry managed to restrain himself, but Ron couldn't help laughing aloud.
Fortunately, Harry moved quickly to cover Ron's mouth.
But unfortunately, Umbridge had already heard.
Umbridge glared venomously at Ron before telling Professor McGonagall through gritted teeth, "I shall record everything you've said and present it to the Ministry's experts."
"Suit yourself. But stop following me now - don't disrupt my normal lesson progress." With that, Professor McGonagall turned and walked away.
"Mr Finnegan, if you explode that rat one more time, I'll put you in detention!"
"Miss Brown, it's just a rat, there's no need to be so frightened..."
When class ended, Umbridge merely declared "Expect notification within days" before sweeping out.
Next, as if she'd developed a particular fixation on fifth-years, she chose to observe Newt's lesson.
Being only a temporary substitute teacher, Newt cared even less about the so-called inspection.
Throughout the entire lesson, the two didn't exchange a single word.
...
In the Gryffindor common room, Harry rushed back immediately after classes.
Ever since his conversation with Wayne outside the Divination classroom, Harry had been pondering how to make more people believe what he said.
During this period of generous spending, while enjoying popularity among his classmates, he'd gained new insight.
Being generous wasn't enough—he needed to demonstrate his power as well.
Mr G had said he needed to let others know about his strength.
Harry wasn't being modest - in the entire school, if you excluded Wayne and the girls around him, nobody was his match.
Now he needed to find a way to display his power to his classmates.
Teaching!
If Umbridge wouldn't teach anything useful, he'd do it himself.
This would not only enhance his reputation but also allow him to demonstrate his abilities during lessons.
I, Harry Potter—Lawrence's personal disciple, having studied under him for a full three years, am more than capable of teaching some simple spells.
Just then, Hermione returned.
Harry quickly approached her with an ingratiating smile. "Hermione, could you do me a favour?"
The young witch retreated two steps, startled by Harry's strange expression. "What kind of favour?"
"I need ways to secretly contact classmates without being detected by Umbridge."
"What are you planning to do?"
Harry didn't hide his intentions and explained his idea.
Hermione became interested. "Teaching classes? That's quite a good idea. Ten Galleons, and I'll help you sort it out. I can even help you contact classmates."
Harry: "..."
Indeed, birds of a feather flock together.
Asking Wayne for help required money.
Asking Hermione also required money, damn it!
...
The time came to Saturday, when Wayne returned to London.
Before treating the Longbottoms, he first visited Fudge's manor.
"Mister Minister."
"Mister Lawrence, please sit." Fudge had a House-elf serve tea. This time, Wayne also saw Fudge's wife, an ordinary middle-aged woman.
After nodding at Wayne, Fudge's wife left the drawing room.
"Are you aware of the situation in Eastern Europe?" Fudge asked impatiently, skipping the usual pleasantries after everyone had left.
"You want to know whether Dumbledore would do such a thing?" Wayne didn't beat around the bush either.
"Exactly." Fudge rubbed his hands anxiously. "Armed seizure of power... he has the capability."
"He does indeed have ambitions to become Minister for Magic now," Wayne stated with feigned seriousness.
"Damn it..." Fudge's face darkened like storm clouds.
He'd always known no one could resist the lure of power—Dumbledore's previous indifference had merely been an act.
"Mister Minister, your downfall is inevitable," Wayne said mercilessly as Fudge paled. "And the countdown has already begun."
"Don't waste energy thinking about how to stay. Cooperate with me peacefully, and I'll guarantee you a comfortable retirement with a dignified exit."
The senior advisor position at the Magical Development Association was Wayne's retirement assurance for Fudge, providing a substantial monthly salary.
At this stage of their arrangement, Wayne's people had already been placed in all key positions at the Ministry of Magic. When he sneezed, the entire Ministry shook three times.
Even if Fudge wanted to back out now, he no longer had the power to do so.
Fudge understood this perfectly, yet he still attempted one last struggle. "I've had people searching everywhere, but we've found no trace of the Dark Lord's activities."
"The disturbances in Russia are Tom's doing," Wayne said calmly. "Voldemort is planning a major event—you'll see when the time comes."
This information came from old Malfoy—Voldemort was indeed growing restless.
"I understand." Fudge slumped back in his chair as if all strength had drained from him.
"Make use of Umbridge a few more times." Wayne reminded him. "My tolerance for her is nearly exhausted."
"As you wish," Fudge replied weakly. "Just send me instructions directly by owl."
Seeing Fudge in this state, Wayne knew he needed time to adjust. Without lingering further, he rose and left for St Mungo's.
The Longbottoms had nearly recovered; this round of treatment involved implanting complete dream sequences into their minds.
As for when they would fully regain their faculties, that depended entirely on their current capacity for acceptance.