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Chapter 158 - Chapter 157: The Toad in the Pink Suit

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The Ministry of Magic was efficient when panic was involved. They arrived less than twenty-four hours after the Patronus incident.

Hermione was in the middle of Professor Lupin's class, casually taking notes on Boggarts, when the heavy oak door creaked open.

Severus Snape swept into the room, his black robes billowing like smoke. He ignored Lupin entirely, his dark eyes locking onto Hermione.

"Granger," he drawled, his voice devoid of emotion. "Come with me. We have visitors from the Ministry."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. Fudge moves fast when he's scared, she thought. She gave Lupin a small, apologetic wave and followed Snape out into the corridor.

The Reception Room.

The air in the small reception room was thick with tension and the cloying scent of cheap perfume. Three Ministry officials were waiting.

As Hermione stepped inside, her gaze swept over the group, and a small, amused smile touched her lips. She knew them all.

Gilderoy Lockhart sat in a plush armchair, looking exceptionally dashing in a tailored turquoise coat. He beamed the moment he saw her.

"Hermione! Long time no see!" Lockhart stood up, offering his hand warmly.

"Professor Lockhart," Hermione replied with a polite nod. "Or should I say, Deputy Director Lockhart? It's been a while."

Lockhart's smile faltered slightly as he noticed Snape looming behind her like a giant bat. "Professor Snape," he greeted, his tone a mix of caution and professional courtesy.

Snape gave a cold, dismissive snort.

Lockhart cleared his throat and gestured to the woman beside him. "Allow me to introduce you. This is…"

"Dolores Umbridge. Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."

The woman interrupted him, stepping forward. She was short and squat, with a broad, flabby face, a wide, slack mouth, and bulging, pouchy eyes. She wore a fuzzy pink cardigan over a pink dress, and a black velvet bow sat atop her short, mouse-brown hair. She looked, for all the world, like a large, pale toad that had been forced into a doll's clothes.

Hermione recognized her instantly. The Pink Toad. The woman who makes Voldemort look like a reasonable politician.

Umbridge extended a stubby hand, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face. "Miss Granger. It is a pleasure."

Hermione looked at the hand. She didn't move. She didn't smile. She simply stared at Umbridge with a cool, detached indifference.

Umbridge's hand froze in mid-air. Her smile stiffened, the corners of her mouth twitching. She felt a surge of indignation. This rude, mudblood child! Does she not know who I am? I am the Minister's right hand!

She slowly lowered her hand, letting out a high-pitched, girlish giggle that sounded more like a hiccup. "My, my. It seems the standards of etiquette at Hogwarts have slipped terribly. I wonder how Dumbledore manages the students. Perhaps the Ministry needs to take a closer look at the educational standards here."

Hermione chuckled softly. "Minister Umbridge, you are mistaken. Etiquette has always been a fine tradition at Hogwarts. However, respect is earned, not titled. If you have concerns about the curriculum, I suggest you take them directly to the Headmaster's office. I'm sure Albus Dumbledore would be delighted to discuss your opinions on his school."

Umbridge's face went rigid. The threat was subtle but clear. She wouldn't dare confront Dumbledore. Not yet. Fudge and Dumbledore were still nominally allies, and she was just a bureaucrat. But Hermione had called her "Minister," stroking her ego while dismissing her authority.

Idiot, Lockhart, Snape, and Hermione all thought simultaneously.

"Hehe," Umbridge laughed dryly, her eyes cold. "The Headmaster is a busy man. I wouldn't want to bother him with trifles."

"Oh, it's no bother," Hermione said, her tone dripping with fake sincerity. "I know Old Dumbledore very well. I'll just pop up and tell him you're here. He always makes time for me."

Umbridge's temple vein throbbed. Was this girl stupid? Or mocking her?

She took a deep breath, her voice turning sharp and condescending. "Miss Granger, you are a third-year student of… muggle descent. Do not pretend to have a special relationship with the greatest wizard of the age just to save face. It is unbecoming. You are young, and you do not understand how the world works."

Before Hermione could retort, Snape stepped forward. His voice was low, silky, and dripping with venom.

"Madam Umbridge," Snape said slowly. "While I personally find Miss Granger's conduct frequently… exasperating… I must correct you. Her statement is accurate. In fact, it is conservative."

Umbridge blinked, stunned.

"Headmaster Dumbledore values Miss Granger highly," Snape continued, his dark eyes boring into the toad-like woman. "It is no exaggeration to say that if she requested a meeting, Dumbledore would likely cancel a session with the Minister himself to accommodate her."

He paused, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Although I hate to admit it, within the walls of this castle, Miss Granger's influence is vastly superior to your own."

The silence in the room was deafening. Umbridge's face turned a mottled, ugly shade of puce. To be humiliated by a student was one thing; to have Severus Snape, a man known for his disdain of Gryffindors, defend the girl was a crushing blow.

Hermione smiled, turning her attention away from the fuming Umbridge to the third person in the room.

He was a young man, tall and handsome, with an air of quiet competence. He stepped forward, a bright, charming smile on his face.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he said, extending a hand. "I am Ethan Hunt. An Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, working under Director Lockhart. I'm new to the Ministry."

Lockhart chuckled, patting the young man on the shoulder. "Ethan, remember, I'm still the Deputy Director. We must be precise with titles, lest we offend our superiors." He shot a meaningful look at Umbridge.

Hermione chuckled internally. Lockhart was playing the game well.

She looked at "Ethan Hunt." Handsome. Charming. A spy in the Ministry.

Ethan Hunt, she thought, shaking her head internally. Really, Tom? You're using the Mission: Impossible name? You truly are a fanboy.

It was Tom Riddle. Her dark lord in disguise.

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