Ministry of Magic, Level Two
Auror Office
In the open-plan office, a cubicle door stood half-open, revealing a young trainee Auror hunched over her desk, buried in work.
Since the Ministry's establishment, its work culture had borrowed elements from Muggle systems—weekends off, holiday shifts—but centuries of evolution had carved out distinct differences. It was rare for a rotating assistant to accompany the Minister or a department head on an international visit, only to be abruptly summoned back to prepare documents. Yet here was Nymphadora Tonks, the trainee Auror in question, who'd flunked her last stealth training and been assigned to Dolores Umbridge's office as an assistant. She was still on rotation, juggling assistant duties while preparing for her next Auror assessment.
Today, she'd been in Ireland, watching a leprechaun song-and-dance performance, when the head of the International Magical Cooperation Department suddenly decided to demonstrate how the show could be broadcast via Shadow Mirror. It came out of nowhere, catching everyone off guard.
Umbridge—that pink-clad toad—had nearly crushed her handbag in a fit, leaving nail marks in the fabric. Still, she plastered on a saccharine smile, cooing about the "novel performance" in her grating, high-pitched voice. When she learned the Shadow Mirror was created by a Hogwarts professor—a foreign Muggle Studies professor, no less—she looked ready to pulverize her bag entirely.
Tonks couldn't wrap her head around it. Umbridge was a pure-blood witch, yet somehow knew more about Muggle television than Tonks, a half-blood raised by a kind Muggle-born father and a bold witch who'd defied her pure-blood family. It was only when Kingsley pointed it out that Tonks noticed the Shadow Mirror's resemblance to a TV.
The situation was a mess. The moment the visit ended, Umbridge had sent Tonks back to draft a legal document to sue Professor Levent.
"Prohibitions on using magic in front of Muggles, concealing the existence of the wizarding world, regulation of magical creatures and objects, secrecy of magical locations…" Tonks muttered under her breath, glaring at the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. "Levent hasn't broken any core regulations! That blasted Umbridge—she's just looking to climb the ladder by stepping on others!"
Raised in a family with a gentle Muggle-born father and a courageous mother who'd broken ties with her pure-blood kin, Tonks had a straightforward sense of justice. She couldn't stomach this kind of baseless accusation.
The more she read the regulations, the angrier she got. "Argh! I can't write this!" She slammed her fist on the desk, patience at its breaking point, and tore up the half-written document, tossing it into the bin.
The satisfying rip of parchment calmed her nerves. Slumping over the desk, she let out a long sigh. "Bloody Mad-Eye. He should be the one writing this slanderous nonsense—see if he doesn't lose it!"
"With Moody's temper, he'd probably storm in and whack her across the face with his staff," a deep, measured voice said from the doorway.
"Kingsley, what're you doing back on a weekend? Auror squad pulling overtime?" Tonks didn't bother looking up, grumbling to herself without expecting a reply. "Wish I could smack that pink toad with Mad-Eye's staff."
Kingsley strolled over, chuckling. "What's got you so worked up?"
"The Shadow Mirror thing blew up," Tonks sighed, recounting the Ireland fiasco in brief.
"Hm…" A flicker of surprise crossed Kingsley's eyes. After a moment's thought, he said, "Sometimes, it's better for certain department heads to know about these things."
"What're you talking about?" Tonks snapped her head up, staring at him. "I've been busting my tail these past few weeks, and everyone's saying I'm killing it as an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Office. I've been thorough, prioritized tasks, blocked every letter headed her way, and arranged for her to tag along on the Minister's visits. All so I can ace my stealth test! And now you're telling me she should know about this?"
"It was bound to happen eventually," Kingsley said calmly, unfazed. "I'm sure Professor Levent and Headmaster Dumbledore are prepared."
"What's Dumbledore got to do with this?"
"The Shadow Mirror's tied to the Inter-House Quidditch Tournament, and Hogwarts is involved. The Headmaster's got undeniable responsibility."
"Huh?" Tonks' brain struggled to keep up.
"Do you think the Wizengamot could actually try Dumbledore?" Kingsley asked.
"Probably not," she admitted.
"Exactly," he said, guiding her along. "If you include both the Headmaster and the professor in your report and file the suit against them together, no matter what charges Umbridge cooks up, Dumbledore won't be touched. And neither will Levent."
After months, Tonks once again marveled at her boss's political savvy. "Learned something new today," she muttered, suddenly free of guilt. With the outcome already clear, drafting the accusatory document felt less like a betrayal. She scribbled away, occasionally asking Kingsley for advice, and the report came together quickly.
"Captain, d'you think I'll pass my stealth test?" she asked.
"That's up to Mad-Eye," Kingsley replied. Seeing her crestfallen look, he paused, considering she'd helped him with a task Dumbledore had assigned. "If you can keep Umbridge from holding a grudge over this, Mad-Eye will probably pass you."
Tonks frowned, lost in thought.
---
Evening, Dinner Time
Melvin arrived at the staff table in the Great Hall, where Dumbledore was deep in conversation with the Head of the Auror Office about a case.
The Aurors had conducted a sweeping search, but the mysterious dark wizard was cunning, leaving only faint traces at the scene and nothing after slipping through their net. A full day of searching had yielded nothing, and Rufus Scrimgeour was visibly irritated.
"Rufus, who do you think this dark wizard might be?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"Too few clues, no solid leads, can't pin down an identity," Scrimgeour replied, frowning as he sliced his steak. "No recent reports of foreign criminals entering the country, and the Knockturn Alley lot have been quiet. I suspect it's a dark wizard who slipped in before the Christmas holidays."
"Have you considered the centaurs' theory?" Dumbledore asked, his tone steady. "Only a desperate fugitive would use unicorn blood to sustain themselves."
"You know how it is, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour said sharply. "The centaur tribes shun the Ministry. They only told me what happened at the time. Dark wizards are rotten in mind and soul—who knows what they're thinking? Fugitive or not, we'll catch them and send them to Azkaban to keep the Dementors company."
Dumbledore took a bite of beef, chewing slowly. "What if… it's Voldemort?"
At the name, Scrimgeour froze, his eyes flashing with a mix of fear, anger, and hatred. His face hardened, and he asked in a low voice, "What makes you think it's him? Got any intelligence?"
Dumbledore swallowed his bite, unruffled. "It's the centaurs' theory—possibly from their star-gazing divinations. Who can say for sure? But it's not impossible. There've been rumors for years that he's been hiding in Albania. What do you think, Rufus?"
Scrimgeour fell silent.
Lately, Minister Fudge and Umbridge's faction had been showing signs of pushing back against Dumbledore's influence. Scrimgeour had been considering using the opportunity to curb Dumbledore's power. But if the Dark Lord was truly making a comeback, the real targets should be Fudge's incompetent cronies.
Then again, this could just be Dumbledore maneuvering to hold onto his authority.
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