Dumbledore looked quietly at Fudge.

A long moment passed. He gave a slight shake of his head.

"In that case, there's nothing more for us to say."

He had given Fudge a chance.

But power had blinded this man completely.

Before the words had even faded, Dumbledore's hand slowly emerged from the sleeve of his robes.

In it, he held a wand, its shaft lined with evenly spaced, spherical nodes, like knuckles along a spine.

The air froze.

Every face in the Ministry delegation went white.

The Aurors behind Fudge whipped out their wands in unison.

Not one of them dared move first.

The students nearby let out a wave of low, startled gasps and scrambled backward, clearing a wide stretch of floor.

"Dolores!"

Fudge went pale, spinning to glare at Umbridge, and roared:

"Didn't you say his wand had already been confiscated? What is that in his hand!"

Umbridge shuddered, her face crumpling with aggrieved protest.

"I — I watched with my own eyes as the Auror took his wand! I have no idea where he produced another one from!"

"That's hardly her fault."

Dumbledore held the wand loosely, fingers drifting along the shaft. "It's only reasonable for a wizard of advancing years to keep a spare, wouldn't you say?"

He looked at Fudge. His tone was perfectly calm.

"Confiscated from Gellert Grindelwald's own hands, all those years ago. It's been sitting unused for so long — today it finally comes in handy."

Grindelwald.

At that name, Fudge drew a sharp breath.

The Dark Lord of the previous generation. The one who had plunged all of Europe into war. And now his wand was resting in Dumbledore's hand.

A silent reminder, hanging in the air, of exactly who they were facing.

The corner of Fudge's eye twitched violently. He forced the terror back down and bellowed with far more bravado than he felt.

"Albus! Are you truly going to go to war with the Ministry of Magic!"

His eyes darted around, sweeping across the long tables, and he jabbed an accusing finger outward:

"If you start a fight here, do you not fear harming these innocent students? You selfish madman!"

The students stared back at him with undisguised contempt.

They could all tell. Fudge didn't care about their safety, he was using them as a human shield, trying to make Dumbledore hesitate for fear of hitting them.

Just moments ago he had threatened Dumbledore with Hogwarts itself. Now he was posturing as their protector.

The hypocrisy was staggering.

Fudge was convinced he'd found Dumbledore's weak point.

Keep the students as his shield, and the old man would never dare unleash his magic without restraint.

Unfortunately, he had miscalculated one thing.

Six months.

Hogwarts' students had been ground down for a full six months under the Ministry's iron fist.

No Quidditch. No Hogsmeade. No extracurricular activities. Even laughing too loudly was forbidden. Every day they sat in classrooms like prisoners under the eyes of black-robed Aurors.

Even clay has a breaking point. These were young wizards bursting with energy.

At the Gryffindor table, the Weasley Twins exchanged a glance. Each saw the same contempt and wild defiance blazing in the other's eyes.

"Using us as a human shield?" Fred gave a cold laugh.

"And putting on that disgusting act like he actually cares." George curled his lip.

In perfect unison, they leapt onto the long table, threw their hands in the air, and let their voices rip.

"To hell with the Ministry of Magic! Long live Dumbledore!"

"Down with Fudge! Down with the Pink Toad!"

Those two earth-shaking shouts ignited the Great Hall like a spark hitting dry tinder.

Harry and Ron reacted instantly, jumping up onto their benches and punching the air:

"Long live Dumbledore! Down with the Ministry of Magic!"

It was like a signal had gone off.

The months of suppressed frustration, fear, and fury found their outlet all at once.

"Long live Dumbledore!"

"Drive out the Aurors!"

"Get out of Hogwarts!"

All of Gryffindor rose to their feet. Then Hufflepuff. Then Ravenclaw. Then even Slytherin joined in.

All four houses set aside every old grievance in that single moment, united as they had never been before.

Hundreds of students roared together, their voices weaving into one deafening wave that shook the rafters.

Fudge stood dumbstruck.

His face went iron-grey. The muscles in his cheeks spasmed with barely contained rage and humiliation.

"Is this the Hogwarts you've been managing?!"

He snapped his head toward Umbridge, fixing her with a vicious glare, and snarled under his breath: "Is this what you told me — that the students were stable, that they'd broken free of Dumbledore's influence?!"

In his mind, he cursed her a thousand times over.

They were both running Hogwarts, look at the loyalty and reverence Dumbledore commanded, and then look at this useless woman. It was her incompetence, her knack for stirring mass resentment, that had driven things to this impossible impasse.

Umbridge stumbled backward in fright, seething with suppressed grievance.

You're the one who told me to do this.

You were the one who was afraid the Hogwarts students and their families would conspire with Dumbledore, you ordered me to cut off their connection to him, to keep them sitting here studying every day with nothing else permitted.

The high-pressure policies were personally approved by you. Now that things have gone wrong, how is it all falling on my head?

But she didn't dare say a word. She could only frantically wipe the cold sweat from her brow.

Fudge clenched his teeth, his face livid.

Riding the tiger, with no way to dismount.

Things had come this far. He absolutely could not back down.

If he slunk away today, by tomorrow his incompetence would spread across the entire Wizarding World. The Ministry's authority and his own reputation would collapse utterly, and what remained of his dignity would be ground into the dirt.

Damn that Lockhart.

Fudge cursed inwardly with savage fury.

That damned Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, ever since he had taken that post, he had been opposing Fudge on this very matter at every turn.

If Lockhart had been willing to cooperate, to send over those battle-hardened veterans of his, the elite Aurors who had survived countless life-and-death clashes, the most formidable fighters under his command, everyone working together against this old man, Fudge wouldn't be standing here feeling so utterly hollow.

But that damned actor had been contradicting him at every step. And today he hadn't even shown his face.

So now Fudge had only his own personal retinue.

Numerous they might be, but when it came to actually trading blows with Dumbledore, the dread sat deep in his chest.

No choice left.

Fudge bit down hard and placed his hopes in one thing: that Dumbledore really would hold back for the sake of those students, that he wouldn't fight at full force inside the Great Hall.

The arrow was nocked. There was no turning back.

Fudge snapped his hand upward. A flash of madness crossed his eyes. He was just about to give the order,

"Cornelius."

Dumbledore's voice was quiet. Calm. And yet it cut through the entire uproar like a knife, silencing the hall in an instant.

"The reason you dared to march into Hogwarts with so many people and imprison an old man who has done nothing, your justification was nothing more than those rumors, was it not?"

"The rumors that said I was jealous of the Witch's fame. That I feared she would threaten my title as 'the greatest white wizard.' And so I moved against her in secret."

➤ Next: I Heard You've Been Going Around Telling Everyone I Was Dead?

Chapter 358 - I Heard You've Been Going Around Telling Everyone I Was Dead?

Dumbledore slowly set down the Elder Wand and met the room's gaze without flinching.

"I did not do it."

Fudge's raised hand froze in midair. He blinked, and then wild elation flashed through his eyes.

He's backing down!

Dumbledore still cared too much. The students. The stability of the Wizarding World. He didn't dare actually strike, so he was falling back on words, on argument, on self-defense!

The moment that realization landed, every trace of fear in Fudge's chest was swallowed whole by boundless arrogance.

"Albus, this is only your side of the story. It cannot simply be taken on faith."

Fudge lowered his wand and straightened his collar. His tone snapped back instantly to that lofty, overbearing bureaucratic register he wore like a second skin.

"The Ministry of Magic deals in evidence."

"If you're willing to put down your wand and cooperate, the Ministry will naturally do its utmost to investigate and clear your name."

Of course, how long that investigation might take was entirely up to him, Cornelius Fudge.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly.

"That won't be necessary."

"I have a more direct way to prove my innocence."

Fudge's brow furrowed.

He studied Dumbledore's calm, aged face, and his heart gave an inexplicable lurch. A bad feeling rose from somewhere deep in his chest.

Before he could think it through, Umbridge let out a sharp, poisonous sneer from beside him.

"Dumbledore, have you still not grasped the situation?"

Smug satisfaction was written all over her toad-like face.

"Whether you're innocent or not is for the Ministry to decide! Even if you produce so-called evidence, the Ministry still gets to judge whether it's credible!"

That faint unease in Fudge's chest dissolved at once.

That's right. The initiative was in his hands. The truth didn't matter.

Whatever Dumbledore produced, as long as he, Fudge, shook his head and said he didn't believe it, it was worthless. A scrap of paper. Nothing.

The two exchanged a glance and saw the same thing looking back: complete fearlessness.

Dumbledore didn't want to fight. Didn't dare to fight. He was still trying to prove his own innocence through proper channels, which meant he had already let the Ministry's rules box him in.

Fudge's confidence swelled until it had nowhere left to go.

"Albus. Dolores is right."

He looked down at Dumbledore from on high.

"Hand over your wand. Stop making pointless struggles."

Dumbledore sighed.

"But this particular piece of evidence — I'm afraid you'll find it rather difficult to call incredible."

Fudge and Umbridge both snorted inwardly at the exact same moment.

What a joke.

What evidence could possibly force the Ministry's hand?

Just as Fudge opened his mouth to speak,

A clear voice rang out over the Great Hall without any warning. Light, and carrying the faintest edge of mockery.

"Do you really think producing evidence will leave them without options?"

Not loud. But it carried into every single pair of ears in the room with perfect clarity.

Everyone froze.

More than a hundred Aurors snapped their heads up at once, searching frantically for the source.

That voice,

That voice was,

Harry, Ron, and Draco all jerked their heads up at the same moment. Disbelieving, unbridled joy detonated behind their eyes.

"What they want has never been the truth. It's to make sure you're not a threat."

"The truth, to people like them — is worth absolutely nothing."

Under the stunned gaze of the entire hall, a torrent of black-and-crimson particles tore through the domed ceiling and came crashing straight down onto the raised platform in front of Dumbledore.

Ferocious magical energy exploded outward like a hurricane and swept the room.

The stream of particles spun at tremendous speed, recombined, contracted.

A few seconds later, the wind died.

The light faded.

A girl in a dark-red trench coat, long hair loose over her shoulders, stood silently on the platform.

Time stopped.

All of Hogwarts went absolutely still. You could have heard a pin drop.

Three full seconds passed.

BOOM!

The crowd erupted.

"Her — Hermione?!"

In the Ravenclaw section, Luna tilted her head. Her dreamy voice carried a trace of perfectly matter-of-fact amusement.

"I said she'd come back."

She'd done her best to hold it in. But the excitement in her eyes was impossible to hide.

"MERLIN'S PANTS!"

The Weasley Twins' mouths fell open. They bellowed at almost exactly the same instant.

"IT'S HERMIONE!"

"HERMIONE'S BACK!"

That shriek lit the whole hall on fire.

Over a year of suppressed worry, dread, and helpless anxiety, all of it broke open at once and came pouring out as pure, unbridled joy.

Harry felt a rush of heat surge straight from his chest to the top of his head. He leapt onto the table, threw his arm in the air with everything he had, and roared:

"The Witch!"

"Our Witch of Hogwarts is back!"

Gryffindor lost its mind. Hufflepuff lost its mind. Ravenclaw lost its mind. Even the Slytherin students rose to their feet and joined the celebration shaking the castle to its foundations.

"THE WITCH!"

"THE WITCH!"

"THE WITCH!"

The chanting crashed together into a single wall of sound that made the Great Hall hum and shudder, as if the roof itself might tear free.

If Dumbledore was Hogwarts' guardian, the revered elder every student loved and trusted,

Then Hermione was something else entirely. The Witch who had single-handedly kept Voldemort from raising his head. Who looked at the Ministry of Magic and saw nothing worth fearing. She was their faith. Their proof that something in this world was truly, unshakeably invincible.

The contrast with the Ministry contingent couldn't have been sharper.

Their faces had gone the color of chalk.

"The... the Witch..."

The Aurors standing behind Fudge couldn't keep their wands from shaking. Some had already gone weak at the knees and were backing away without quite meaning to.

"It's the Witch... the Witch is back..."

They understood better than anyone what that title meant.

Three years ago, this girl, alone, had cut her way through the Ministry of Magic and ground the entire elite of the British Wizarding World into the dirt.

Every drop of color had drained from Umbridge's toad-like face. She stumbled backward, collapsed onto the floor, and her whole body shook like a bag of jellies rattling in the wind. The shadow this girl had cast over her back then had never really left.

Fudge stood as if he'd been struck by lightning. Every muscle in his body locked rigid.

How could this be...

She'd been gone so long. And she was still alive?

She was actually, truly still alive.

Dumbledore looked down at the trembling Fudge and let out a quiet laugh.

He stepped forward and stood beside Hermione.

"Cornelius."

Dumbledore gave a slight bow. That gentle smile returned to his face, only this time, it carried something new. A few degrees of undisguised, unhurried sarcasm.

"How is this evidence of mine?"

"By the Ministry's own professional judgment..." He let the pause hang just a moment. "Is she, credible?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and barely managed not to laugh out loud.

She slid a sideways glance at the old man beside her and grumbled silently.

Old Dumbledore's been picking up bad habits. Since when did he learn to be this pointed?

Dumbledore's words hit Fudge like a bucket of cold water. He gave a full-body shudder.

Under the gaze of several hundred people, he finally came back to himself. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead in an instant.

"Credible! Credible! Of course she's credible!"

Fudge forced out a smile that looked worse than a grimace, nodding and bowing with frantic, undignified energy.

"So Her Excellency the Witch has returned!"

"I was just saying! With Her Excellency's extraordinary power, how could anything have happened to her so easily! This, this completely proves your innocence, doesn't it, Albus!"

"What tremendously wonderful news this is!"

He turned to Dumbledore, plastering his face with the most obsequious smile he could manage, as if the overbearing Minister of Magic from thirty seconds ago had never existed.

"It was all just a misunderstanding!"

"Now that the truth has come out, I won't interrupt your reunion any further! The Ministry has a great deal of official business to attend to, we'll be taking our leave, farewell, farewell!"

He spun on his heel and nearly bolted.

He made it one step.

"Stop right there."

Two quiet words.

In the silence of the Great Hall they landed like a thunderclap, detonating directly in the chests of every person from the Ministry.

Fudge's foot froze in midair.

Cold sweat soaked through his back.

He swallowed hard, dragged his foot back with enormous effort, and turned around one slow degree at a time.

"Her... Her Excellency the Witch, is there... is there something you require of me?"

Hermione stood on the platform and looked down at him.

"I heard you've been going around telling people I was dead?"

Fudge stared at her half-smiling expression. His heart clenched so hard it nearly stopped.

"No no no! Absolutely nothing of the sort!"

He shook his head so fast it was nearly a blur, and in sheer desperation his mouth opened and immediately flung the blame somewhere else.

"It wasn't us, it was the Daily Prophet! Yes, those irresponsible journalists spreading nonsense everywhere! The Ministry was just as taken in by those false rumors as anyone!"

"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow, drawing the syllable out. "The Daily Prophet?"

"It was them!"

Fudge saw something in her expression that looked like she might be buying it. He lunged at the opening, nodding furiously, words pouring out in a torrent.

"You know how those reporters are, always chasing shadows and gossip, always writing the most outrageous things. They even ran articles claiming you had colluded with You-Know-Who!"

"How could anyone with any sense possibly believe something that absurd?"

Hermione watched his performance of righteous indignation, and the corner of her mouth slowly curled upward.

She nodded, with great and solemn gravity.

"But the thing is — I really did collude with Voldemort."