"Some things have indeed happened, Cornelius," Dumbledore said.
"I'm terribly sorry, Dumbledore," Fudge replied, though his expression was anything but sincere. "But this means the Ministry has to take necessary measures. We've already coordinated with the Board of Governors."
Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly. He hadn't heard a whisper about the Board's involvement. Clearly, someone was pulling strings behind his back.
Through coercion, bribery, or some other means.
And who that someone was? Well, that was hardly a mystery.
"Dumbledore, these are the finest from the Auror Office," Fudge continued, gesturing to the adult wizards who'd come with him. "I believe they're more than capable of handling the dangers at Hogwarts."
Aurors, the wizarding world's equivalent of an elite law enforcement squad.
In theory, every Auror was among the best of the best, trained to combat dark wizards and dark magic with unmatched skill.
In practice, though, "elite" sometimes came with quotation marks.
Still, there was no denying Aurors were highly capable.
"I believe Hogwarts can handle this matter on its own," Dumbledore said, a flicker of anger flashing in his pale blue eyes.
The Ministry was overreaching this time.
The Board of Governors, the Minister of Magic, and now Aurors? Their intentions were crystal clear—this was a power play.
A direct challenge to Dumbledore's authority.
Decades ago, anyone daring to challenge Dumbledore would've regretted it dearly.
The title of the greatest white wizard wasn't just for show.
But perhaps age had softened him, or his priorities had shifted, or he'd grown less eager for conflict. Whatever the reason, the Dumbledore of today was, frankly, a bit easier to push around.
"Professor, it's bad—Audrina's gone missing!"
As if on cue, a young witch burst through the door, her face pale with panic, shouting toward the staff table.
Every head in the room turned to her.
Lucius's smirk widened, barely containing a chuckle. "Oh, Dumbledore, it seems Hogwarts isn't quite up to the task. Not only have students been attacked, but now someone's missing."
"Fate unknown!" he added, emphasizing the phrase with relish.
"I highly doubt your ability to manage Hogwarts properly."
Though his words carried a veneer of respect, Lucius's face and demeanor held none.
"It was just an accident," Professor McGonagall snapped, unable to hold her tongue any longer.
Except for Snape, who wore an enigmatic smirk, the other professors glared at Lucius with barely concealed fury.
"The situation is utterly deplorable," Lucius drawled, cutting McGonagall off. He produced a long scroll of parchment as he spoke. "The Board believes it's time for you to step down. This is a dismissal order—signed by all twelve governors."
"We feel you've failed to live up to your potential. If you can't stop the terrible things happening at Hogwarts, perhaps it's time for someone more capable. The Head of Slytherin, for instance, might be a fine choice."
"My own son is a student here, after all. I want a Headmaster who truly cares, who takes responsibility."
"Lucius, hold on—this isn't what we agreed!" To everyone's surprise, it was Fudge who objected first, practically shouting in his panic. "The plan was for the Aurors to assist with the investigation and for Dumbledore to cooperate—not to sack him!"
"Dismissing Dumbledore? No, no, that's not what we want, especially not in front of all these children."
It wasn't that Fudge had suddenly grown a conscience. He simply didn't want to bear the fallout of such a scandal.
A Minister of Magic ousting the Headmaster of Hogwarts? That would be a historic first—and not the good kind. It'd be a legacy of infamy.
Even Phineas Nigellus Black, arguably the least popular Headmaster in Hogwarts history, hadn't been sacked by the Ministry.
Some parents might roll their eyes at Dumbledore's occasional "eccentricities," but there was no question they trusted and admired his abilities. The title of beloved Headmaster wasn't just for show.
What Fudge didn't say aloud was: If you sack Dumbledore, who's going to fix this mess?
Surely not the Minister of Magic himself.
And if the problem wasn't solved, who'd take the blame?
That question alone made Fudge furious with Lucius.
If you'd told me this was your plan, I wouldn't have come along!
Lucius couldn't care less about Fudge's feelings. He barely spared the so-called Minister a glance. His goal was already within reach.
Holding the parchment, Lucius stepped forward, meeting Dumbledore's gaze almost eye-to-eye.
"Lucius, you don't have the authority to dismiss Dumbledore," McGonagall said, stepping forward, her voice brimming with anger. "Dumbledore was chosen by Hogwarts itself!"
"I believe I do, Professor McGonagall," Lucius replied, shaking the parchment. Twelve signatures—all the governors.
This document was legally binding, fully compliant with wizarding law.
Sure, Lucius couldn't alter the magical contract tying Dumbledore to Hogwarts. Dumbledore might still wield the powers and privileges of Headmaster. But in name, he'd been dismissed.
Unless Dumbledore decided to flip the table and reject the governors' authority outright.
But he wouldn't. Because he was Dumbledore. Because he was the greatest white wizard. Because he'd never stoop to the level of a dark wizard.
And if Dumbledore did reject the governors, the first to object wouldn't be Lucius—it'd be the Ministry. The governors' authority came from the Ministry. Denying them meant denying the Ministry's legitimacy.
That was why Fudge was so upset.
No matter how this played out, Lucius would get what he wanted.
His expression was smug, utterly confident he had Dumbledore cornered.
And if the Aurors managed to resolve this crisis, Dumbledore's reputation would take a massive hit.
A gleam of triumph flashed in Lucius's eyes.
That would be the best news of all.
And if things went according to plan, the culprit behind this whole affair would be revealed as the youngest Weasley—Ginny Weasley.
After all, he was the one who'd slipped her that book.
Framing the Weasleys, his old rivals, would be the cherry on top.
Concealing dark magic artifacts? Tsk, tsk. That was no small crime.
A perfect plan, killing two birds with one stone.