The silver instruments on the shelves hummed softly, creating that particular atmosphere that Albus Dumbledore so valued in his office. But only a couple of days had passed since Yule, and today that peace had been shattered. Dumbledore was ready to make his move, but it seemed that this time, everything had become less straightforward than he had anticipated.
He sat at his desk, listening. Opposite him, in the armchairs, sat four wizards. Lucius Malfoy, an impeccable representative of the Conservative party, cold in conversation, with a folder of documents on his lap. Lucius Malfoy was the wealthiest man in all of magical Britain, possessing immense status and influence as the face of the Conservatives and the head… in any case, the latter had been impressed upon him by the surviving Lords of the older generation.
Despite all these factors, for Dumbledore, Lucius was little more than a child who had been given vast resources at a young age. Also present was Lord Nott. His goatee and harsh, masculine features gave his face a perpetually dissatisfied expression, as if carved by fate itself. Lady Parkinson, a widow, now headed the Parkinson family. Thin, sharp, with the piercing gaze of a woman accustomed to doing everything herself and considering everyone beneath her. And Lord Rowle — a massive, red-faced man with heavy hands, one accustomed to solving problems not with words.
"Gentlemen, my lady," Dumbledore said softly, when the stream of questions momentarily subsided. "I understand your concern. But allow me first to ensure I correctly understand the nature of your grievances."
"The nature is simple, Albus," Lucius cut him off, opening the folder. "On school grounds, in close proximity to the students, a nest of Acromantulas has existed for over half a century. Creatures of a high danger class, which have already attacked students. You either did not know about this, which is outrageous, or you knew and did nothing, fully understanding the risk of such proximity, which is an even more monstrous error."
Dumbledore nodded, his face remaining calm.
"I was not aware of the existence of an Acromantula colony in the Forbidden Forest. However, I am aware that these creatures rarely leave their habitat and do not pose a direct threat if safety rules are observed."
"Do not pose a threat?" Lady Parkinson leaned forward, her voice ringing like a taut string. "Headmaster, my daughter starts this year! And there are giant Acromantulas just a few hundred meters from the castle! If not for a fortunate coincidence and… certain abilities of some students, we could be talking about a tragedy!"
"I share your concern, Lady Parkinson," Dumbledore replied softly. "And I assure you, I am prepared to personally address this matter. Moreover, I am quite capable of summoning Aurors or enlisting the help of my old friend Alastor Moody to solve the problem. As the Head of the Auror Office, he possesses both the experience, the resources, and the duty to destroy such a nest of dangerous creatures. But I do not understand why I am being accused?"
"Alastor Moody?" Lord Rowle interrupted, his lips twisting unpleasantly.
"There is no better specialist in dark creatures in Britain," Dumbledore parried calmly. "If the nest truly poses a threat, it will be eliminated."
"If?" Lord Nott raised an eyebrow. "You doubt the words of your own students, Headmaster Dumbledore? The Aurors will be here regardless, but the question is about your competence."
Lord Nott was clearly displeased with Dumbledore's attempt to invoke Alastor's name, as the latter had personally arrested two of those seated in this room.
"I do not doubt the students," Dumbledore replied patiently. "I doubt your hasty conclusions. The Forbidden Forest is vast, and its inhabitants rarely venture beyond its borders. Perhaps this was an isolated incident that should not be exaggerated…"
"An isolated incident?" Lucius's voice turned icy. "Albus, do you hear yourself? In your hands are hundreds of students, the future of Britain. And you speak of 'isolated incidents.'"
Lucius was playing his part well, but there was little point, as everyone understood everything.
He took a sheet of parchment, covered in seals and signatures, from the folder.
"Due to your inability or unwillingness to create a safe environment for students, the Board of Governors has made a decision. The risk to students' lives at Hogwarts has reached a critical level. A competent Headmaster should have known about the existence of such a threat. And if he knew, he should have taken measures before children encountered these monsters."
Dumbledore took the document and unfolded it. Eight signatures. Eight out of twelve, but it was enough.
He examined them slowly, memorizing each one. His face did not change. No trace of surprise, no flicker of anger. Only deep, feigned sorrow.
"Order for the suspension of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," he read aloud, his voice steady. "You prepared it in advance, Lucius. Before you heard my explanations."
"We prepared it," Lord Nott corrected. "Because the situation speaks for itself."
Dumbledore set the document aside and looked at the four governors. At Lucius, especially long.
"You have decided to play a dangerous game," he said quietly. "And I fear you are trying to harm me in vain. My faith in the Board of Governors' good sense was apparently excessive."
"This is not about harm, Headmaster," Lucius cut him off. "It is about the safety of children. I am, after all, performing my duties as a governor. If you consider this a 'game,' you are mistaken."
"For over half a century," Lady Parkinson added quietly. "You turned a blind eye to what was happening under your nose, Albus. Or worse, you were not even aware of it. How much more had to happen before you would notice?"
Dumbledore remained silent. The silence lasted a second, two, three. When he spoke, his voice was calm.
"I believed the situation was under control. Obviously, I was wrong."
Lord Nott smirked, but Dumbledore was already looking at Lucius.
"You have gotten what you wanted. Now I must ask: are you sure you want this?"
"I want safety for the students," Lucius replied. "If that requires temporarily suspending the Headmaster for a further investigation of this situation, to determine your ability to fulfill the duties of this position, I am prepared to do so."
"Temporarily," Dumbledore repeated, a barely perceptible irony in his voice. "Of course. Temporarily."
He rose from his desk, signaling the audience was over.
"I will accept your decision. But before you leave, allow me to say this."
He looked around at the four governors, and something flickered in his eyes that made even Lucius tense involuntarily.
"The game you are entering, gentlemen, my lady, is not dangerous for me. I am old. I have seen rises and falls, wars and truces, those who tried to rewrite the laws of magic, and those who wanted to abolish them. I am still here. Hogwarts is still here. Those people are long gone, replaced by their children."
He shifted his gaze to Lucius.
"You think you have struck a blow. You think suspending me means victory. But I ask you to consider this: the marks of slavery on your bodies, ladies and gentlemen, are still part of history. And no amount of gold can change that."
Silence fell in the office, followed by a genuine uproar of shouts, but eventually, this circus of mutual attempts to wound had to cease. In this endeavor, Albus was again the stronger.
"We have made a decision, Albus," he said finally. "It is not up for discussion."
"Of course," Dumbledore bowed slightly. "I do not challenge your right. But remember my words."
The governors rose and headed for the exit. Lucius was the last. As he took hold of the door handle, the Headmaster's voice stopped him.
"Lucius."
Malfoy turned around.
"Tell Arcturus that I wish him success in his studies and am very grateful for such a pleasant gift."
For about five seconds, Lucius tried to process and accept this news, while the Headmaster, a smirk on his face, reveled in this small victory.
"Certainly," Lucius replied, as if gritting his teeth, and left.
The door closed.
The Headmaster sighed and shook his head. Soon, a letter was on its way to Alastor.
"I fear I must resort to your help after all, Alastor. It seems our noble ladies and gentlemen need to be reminded that history is not written with gold. And that they should not hold their heads quite so high."
***
December 30th, 1990.
The vast amphitheater, carved into the very heart of the Ministry, held all the grandeur of Britain's magical authority. The stone walls, dark, massive, rising tens of meters upwards, pressed down with their monumentality. The vaulted ceiling was lost somewhere in the semi-darkness, and only the magical lamps beneath the highest arches cast a muted golden light on the rows of seats arranged amphitheater-style.
In the center, on a dais, instead of the old chair with chains on its armrests, as had been the case ten years ago during the civil war, two dark oak podiums were installed, along with chairs and tables on either side. About thirty-five Lords of the Wizengamot and another eighteen non-Lords, but equally voting judges — members of the Wizengamot's Small Council — had already taken their places on the amphitheater benches.
The Wizengamot chamber was never a place for the faint-hearted. Today, the pressure was especially intense.
Albus Dumbledore stood behind a special podium in the center of the hall, the position of the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot. Dressed in robes the color of the night sky, embroidered with silver stars, his long silver beard flowing over his chest, his half-moon spectacles glinting in the magical light. He looked exactly as the Supreme Mugwump should look — majestic, calm, unshakeable.
Fifty-three voting members had taken their seats. In truth, there should have been sixty-one, but that record number hadn't been reached in decades. Today was the decisive day, and many perceived it as a struggle between Albus Dumbledore and Lucius, who wanted to gain the Black family inheritance. Only Dumbledore himself didn't see it that way, not feeling any threat from Lucius. But even he, Albus Dumbledore himself, could be wrong. That doesn't negate the fact that his opponent would be wrong more severely.
Lucius was dashing back and forth, unable to find Crabbe and Goyle, as well as another Wizengamot Lord.
But Lucius had no idea that they weren't just running late, knowing that being late was unacceptable. It was something else entirely, and who knows, if Lucius or others from their coalition had lingered a little longer at Malfoy Manor, perhaps Aurors would have knocked on their doors as well.
Dumbledore had decided to end Moody's career.
And the Lords learned about this from the Deputy Head of the Auror Office — Rufus Scrimgeour — who himself had learned of it at the last moment, though one might wonder how such a thing could happen.
At the same time, it turned out that the small gnat named Lucius Malfoy had managed to bite after all. Dumbledore was temporarily suspended from his post, but he had no idea what would happen next.
All of Magical Britain had gone mad in the past day. Every journalist, ignoring the rules and important people, churned out story after story. Such an event — and at Hogwarts!
The Daily Prophet, The Quibbler, The Owl, and several other smaller publications churned out sensation after sensation. Ordinary people even forgot about Sirius Black's life. The case of an innocent man who had spent nine years in Azkaban was supposed to be decided today.
Dumbledore raised his hand, and the murmur of voices ceased.
"Today," he began, his voice magically amplified throughout the hall, "we have gathered to dispense justice. The case of Sirius Black — a case that has become a symbol of the mistakes of the past, mistakes we are obliged to correct. I declare this session of the Wizengamot open…"
"One moment, Supreme Mugwump!"
Lucius Malfoy's voice rang out unexpectedly loudly. He rose from his place among the rows of Lords, his face perfectly calm.
"I have a motion that requires immediate consideration."
A whisper ran through the hall. Dumbledore lowered his hand, his gaze settling on Malfoy.
"Motions are accepted in the established order, Lucius. You may submit it during the Small Council's session, and it will be considered…"
"Today, Supreme Mugwump," Lucius interrupted, a breach of protocol he would never have committed without good reason. "The motion must be considered today. Right now, according to the law. For I am presenting the opinion of the majority of the Hogwarts Board of Governors. And matters exceeding the competence of the administration must be discussed immediately."
He walked to the center of the hall, his every step echoing under the high vaults. In his hand, he held a parchment bearing nine seals. Nine.
"What is it?" someone from the back rows asked.
"An order for the temporary suspension of the Headmaster of Hogwarts," Lucius replied, his voice audible to everyone. "Signed by nine of the twelve governors. Based on the school charter, Section 3.12 of the Board of Governors' Rules, the Board has the right to submit a motion that cannot be denied. A Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster may be dismissed through the Supreme Court of Magical Britain — the Wizengamot. But only if the person in question is already suspended."
The hall fell silent. Absolutely silent… no one had expected someone to simply decide to make an enemy of this man.
"I fail to see the connection between this motion and today's court proceedings," Dumbledore said calmly, though for the first time, steel sounded in his voice. "Sirius Black's case has nothing to do with my position at Hogwarts. Therefore, the motion will be considered after the trial of Sirius Black."
"It does, Supreme Mugwump," Lucius parried. "For today, we speak of justice. And justice demands that those who dispense it be pure before the law themselves."
He unrolled the parchment.
"'Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is hereby temporarily suspended from his post due to accusations of negligence, endangering the lives of students, and incompetence displayed in the performance of his official duties,'" he read, each word falling into the silence like a stone into water. "'Basis: the half-century existence of an Acromantula nest on school grounds, the lack of measures to eliminate it, which resulted in an attack on third-year students.'"
The noise grew. Then a full-blown conflict erupted between Lucius Malfoy and Dumbledore.
"This is absurd," came Arthur Weasley's voice from somewhere in the back rows. "Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest? It's a threat, yes, but what does that have to do with…"
"Everything, Weasley," Lucius interrupted. "The Headmaster is responsible for the safety of the students. He did not fulfill this duty. He allowed children to encounter high-danger-class monsters. The Board of Governors received no answers, which is why we decided to exercise our right to dismiss the Headmaster, subject to his temporary suspension."
Dumbledore looked at Malfoy, something like surprise in his gaze. He even frowned, more accurately. It was unlikely Dumbledore had thought the second most important post in the country could be taken from him so quickly and easily.
"Lucius, you are wasting the chamber's time on this. The motion will be considered after…"
"Supreme Mugwump," Lord Nott rose. His voice was calm, but there was something in it that made many take notice. "The accused in a case cannot make decisions regarding the acceptance of a motion in which he is the subject. This is stipulated in the law, Article 19, Paragraph 4. I request that the chairmanship of today's session be transferred to the temporary executor of your duties, that is, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge."