“Professor?”

“A moment, Harry,” Severus called through the door as he swung the cauldron off the heat and covered it. The potion was stable enough that he could resume work after their Occlumency lesson. A quick wipe of the counter and a glance at his line of ingredients, and he exited his workroom and found the boy waiting on the couch. “My apologies, I was…distracted.”

“You’re working again?”

Severus frowned. None of the students should have been aware that he wasn’t…in fact the majority of his colleagues shouldn’t have been aware of that fact. It certainly wasn’t something he’d advertised, and while granted it didn’t take a great leap of logic to deduce that someone with one arm might have trouble brewing, it wasn’t a leap that he’d expected any of his students to make. “So it would seem,” he returned evenly.

Harry flushed. “I went to see Cho in the infirmary yesterday and I overheard Madam Pomfrey talking about having to order supplies from St. Mungos. She didn’t like the quality of the bruise ointment, I guess.”

“Ah.” Well, he could wish Poppy had been a bit more discrete, but at least the information wasn’t being bantered about the halls. Cho…? Ah, Chang, the Ravenclaw sixth year with the apparent fear of snakes. “Miss Chang is now a particular friend of yours?” The boy’s flush deepened, and Severus hid a smirk. The joys of teenage life.

“I’m, um, here for lessons,” Harry offered, striving desperately to change the topic of conversation.

Severus was half-tempted to harass him a bit more, but it was hardly a professional reaction. “You’re unusually early. Almost five minutes, in fact.”

“Yeah, well, without Quidditch….” He shrugged and made a face.

Severus nodded. The lifetime ban was ridiculous, but that was hardly the only ridiculous thing that that woman had come up with. And compared to the rest it’s hardly of any great import. “I suppose you’ll have more time for your coursework, at least.”

“Great,” Harry muttered.

“And, of course, romantic encounters tend to proceed much more smoothly when you’re not planning to compete against your intended on the battle field. Or the Quidditch pitch, as the case may be. Hardly chivalrous to snatch the Snitch out from under her nose, but I daresay your teammates would have had words with you if you even considered doing otherwise. And quite possibly the young lady as well; condescension of any sort rarely goes over well.”

“Professor!”

That had come out as a moan, and the boy’s face had regained its previous hue with remarkable speed. This time Severus smirked outwardly. “Shall we begin, then?”

“Please.”

“Legilimens.” Attic, at—charging down a muggle street with the sound of pursuit close behind him, ducking into an alley and trying to squeeze between the boards at the far end, but someone had a grip on his ankle and was pulling him back, and…. He pulled back out. “Harry, whatever…distractions…you are currently dealing with, you must learn to put them from your mind when necessary.”

“I—sorry, Professor. I guess I wasn’t concentrating.”

“Again then, and this time I’d appreciate your full attention. Legilimens.”

It took only a few pushes—and not particularly heavy ones—before Severus found himself in a memory. A maze…part of the third task, from the look of it. It was strikingly unlikely that the boy had found himself in any other giant mazes in his life. The scene with the cup was approaching rapidly, and then they were in the graveyard and the light pushes at his mind disappeared entirely. He pulled out a second time. “Harry, you were doing better than that three sessions into these lessons. I’d like to know what’s happened in the last week to make you forget how to perform Occlumency.”

“It’s nothing, really. I just couldn’t concentrate for a minute.”

“I don’t suppose you would care to share the reason for that?” And it had better not be Miss Chang. Or Quidditch—the ban may be an annoyance, but it should hardly be the most important thing in your life at this moment.

Green eyes flashed. “I can do it.”

“Legilimens.” This time after he’d pushed through to a memory he didn’t wait to see what it was to pull out, he simply sat back and stared at the boy. “Well?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry repeated. “I guess I’m just tired; I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Severus had a sudden, ugly suspicion that might just be nothing, or at least nothing that the boy was aware of. If the Dark Lord had found out about the connection, had somehow influenced Harry or done something to his Occlumency abilities…. Is that even possible? Certainly you can damage another wizard’s mind, but to target a specific ability would take a kind of control I don’t think anyone is capable of. Even that creature. But there was something not quite right in those eyes—something too dark to be related to Quidditch or Chang—and he frowned. If he needed to he could simply look for himself, but…. “I don’t think I believe you, Mr. Potter. What. Has. Happened?” Harry looked down, around, up—as though the answer is written on my ceiling—before returning his attention to Severus. “Well?” Severus pressed.

“I talked to the headmaster yesterday morning,” he admitted slowly. “Mostly I wanted to see whether he could do something about the Quidditch ban, at least for Fred since he didn’t even do anything.”

“I don’t think Quidditch is causing you to forget how to shield your mind.”

Harry looked away, silent for a long moment. “He didn’t want to talk about it at all…told me some other stuff instead. I mean, I got a note from him promising that he would last week, but I just figured he was going to keep putting me off. And then he ignored me about the Quidditch bans and started talking about Volde—You-Know-Who—and….”

Ah. So that’s where his concentration has gone. “And?” he prompted.

Harry shook his head slightly. “It’s not—it doesn’t feel real. I mean, I know I’ve fought him before, but it was always…it wasn’t him him. Not like I saw in the graveyard. Now I find out that I’m supposed to be the one that gets rid of him for good? I keep seeing him there with the Deatheaters over and over and I can’t think of anything that I could have done that might have stopped him.”

So Albus had decided to tell him the prophecy then. Or at least about it; Severus didn’t know if he’d given it word-for-word—including the ‘either must die at the hand of the other’ line—or just the general gist, and he wasn’t about to ask.

“I don’t even know if I can,” Harry went on, voice rising slightly in pitch. “He’s a lot more powerful than me. I mean, with Quirrel was mostly luck, and if Ron and Hermione hadn’t been there I’d never have even gotten to him anyway, and with the basilisk I had Fawkes’ help—and more luck, I’m still not sure what made me decide to stab that diary except that I was desperate—and then in the graveyard if our wands hadn’t cancelled and you and the headmaster and Professor McGonagall hadn’t gotten to the fake Moody before he….”

“We did get there,” Severus interrupted before the boy’s rant could degenerate into a full-blown panic attack. His breathing was already considerably faster than necessary, and his skin was rapidly coming to resemble bleached parchment. Far less amusing than the flush earlier had been. “And you will continue to have help.” Quite probably luck as well, knowing you. He didn’t plan to say that last out loud—the boy didn’t need to start behaving any more impetuously than he already did—but at least the first was a given. “Myself, Albus, and the rest of the Order, the staff of Hogwarts if it comes to that, and somehow I very much doubt that you’ll manage to leave your little friends behind again either.”

“But—”

“Not to mention that as you may have noticed no timeline was given anywhere in that prophecy,” Severus continued, cutting him off. “Of course he’s more powerful than you—he’s a full grown wizard. You are not. No one expects you to walk out of the castle tomorrow and challenge the Dark Lord to a duel. If anyone does hint at anything of the sort—” say for example that idiot mutt of a Godfather of yours who’d probably think the whole thing was a grand adventure—“you have my permission to hex the idiot into next Tuesday. In fact, I order you to do so.”

Harry just shook his head. “It’s not…did you know that it didn’t even have to be me? The headmaster let me read it—it never even said me specifically, just someone born at the end of July. It could have been Neville, but for some reason he thought that I was more dangerous, and….”

“And he marked you,” Severus completed. If Longbottom was supposed to be the savior of the Wizarding world…Merlin help us all. Better to drink something toxic and have it over with. He held back a shiver, debating for a moment whether or not to reveal the fact that he’d been the one to overhear the prophecy—or at least part of it—and pass it on to the Dark Lord. If Albus hasn’t already told Harry it won’t do anything but give him one more thing to think about, and frankly an irrelevant thing at that. If he has…well, I suppose the boy will ask if there’s something that he wants to know. He considered for a moment. Although if he did know, I suspect that I’d have been subjected to some form of a rant by now so he probably hasn’t the slightest.

“He marked me,” Harry agreed bitterly. “And he killed my parents.”

There wasn’t a great deal that could be said in response. “Once again, it isn’t fair, but I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that life rarely is.”

“So what can I do?”

Given that the prophecy has already been made and you can hardly ask Sybil to take it back…. “What can you do about the Dark Lord? Right now your responsibilities are to concentrate on your magic, to get stronger and more knowledgeable so when you do face him you won’t need luck to beat him.”

“But—” This time Harry cut himself off with a shake of his head.

“But what?”

“But the longer I wait the more damage he can do. I mean…look what he did to you! To Cedric. I bet he’s out there right now hurting other people.”

Bloody lousy time for that people-saving instinct of yours to assert itself. “I believe we’ve already talked about what happened to Mr. Diggory. It was tragic, but it was in no way your fault. And what happened to me has little to nothing to do with you either.” Not entirely true, but he’d known the price for being found out a spy and accepted the risks long before he’d met young Mr. Potter. “Just out of curiosity what do you think would happen if you did go out tomorrow to face him?”

Harry shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’d have to be able to do two things: get through his ranks of Deatheaters, and beat the Dark Lord himself in open combat. Frankly, I very much that you could do either at this point. Like it or not, you aren’t an adult yet, and you don’t have the skills or the experience that will come in time.”

The boy still didn’t look convinced, and Severus continued. “If you face him—or the Deatheaters—and die, you’ve done nothing but take away the hope of a good portion of the Wizarding world, even those who haven’t a clue what your true potential is. After all, if he can kill the Boy-Who-Lived….” As annoying as the title might be, it is something of a rallying cry. “Not to mention what that will do to the morale of those of us who actually know the prophecy. And if you face him and lose but still survive, what does that do? Confirm to him that you are as important as he suspects; maybe even reveal more of the prophecy than he already knows? You’ll be in even more danger, and he won’t hesitate to do whatever he feels is necessary to get to you. That includes using your friends and their families if he doesn’t see an easier way.” Or even if he does; he enjoys tormenting his victims far too much to leave them unscathed. That should get through to him, even if nothing else does.

“But I can’t just…sit here!”

“You most certainly can!” Severus snapped in return. He was going to if Severus had anything at all to say about it. “There are others involved in this battle, ones much better suited to fighting it at this point in time! You need to stay here at Hogwarts, concentrate on learning much as you can, and get yourself as prepared as possible for the day when you will face him. Wait until the advantage is on your side instead of so overwhelmingly on his. And yes, people probably will get killed in the meantime, but that happens in a war. It isn’t right or fair or anything but sickening, but that doesn’t change the facts. The best that you—the best that any of us—can hope to do is minimize the damage.”

Harry opened his mouth, and Severus cut him off.

“Learning as much as you can includes Occlumency. Your mind is the most important tool that you’ve got—you must protect it. If he finds he can access that, the war may be over before you even get your chance to enter. And not with the outcome we’d all prefer. Legilimens.” Half-a-second later Severus grunted as he impacted the far wall and the world went black.

///////////

“—fessor?”

Severus wondered idly just when Harry had gotten taller than him. He was fairly certain that it had been a recent development.

“Professor? Can you hear me? I’ve called for Madam Pomfrey.”

The mediwitch was suddenly there as well—two of her, in fact—and he realized that at some point she’d grown taller than him as well. And then it occurred to him that perhaps the reason that everyone was taller than him was that he was laying flat on his back.

“Professor? Are you all right? I didn’t mean to—” He broke off as Poppy pushed him aside, waving her wand, and suddenly the ceiling was approaching.

“You can just go explain yourself to the headmaster; Professor Snape needs to be in the infirmary.

Severus blinked and tried for a coherent sentence, but before he’d gotten more than a groan out Poppy was glaring down at him menacingly.

“Now, I haven’t the faintest idea what brought this on, but I do recall telling you that you were to concentrate on recovering. I’d like to know just what part of ‘recovering’ a fractured skull falls under.”

It took a moment for the preceding events to sort themselves out in his mind, and he couldn’t help a grimace. Perhaps I should have waited until he’d calmed a bit before attempting to continue the lesson. The muted whispers that he could hear as he floated up the stairs didn’t make him feel any better about the situation either—no doubt news of his injury would be all over the school by curfew. And plenty of rumors about just how he’d been injured to accompany them. I’d almost prefer that they think I had a potions accident as opposed to someone having done this to me…I’ve had enough injuries inflicted upon me in the past few months. Next thing you know they’ll be laughing about the target painted on my back. He’d have preferred to see exactly who would be spreading the rumors, the better to exact revenge at some point in the future, but Poppy had put some sort of immobilizing spell on his neck and the only thing he was getting a clear view of was the lovely stonework in the corridor ceiling.

The trip to the infirmary took entirely too long for his peace of mind, but at least it seemed to be empty when they arrived. Whatever affliction the young Miss Chang had been suffering under was apparently cured. Poppy set him down on one of the beds but declined to remove the spell holding his neck still until she’d dumped a vial of skel-e-grow down his throat. A vial of vile…Merlin’s beard, I must have rattled my brain a bit more than I realized if I’m making jokes like that. The ache in his skull began to recede, and he began to sit up cautiously.

“None of that, now. I obviously can’t trust you to take care of yourself back in your own quarters, so I’ll just have to keep you here for the night until that crack is fully healed.”

“Poppy, I can assure you—”

“Are you all right, my boy?”

Albus. Wonderful.

“Professor, I swear, I never meant—”

And Harry with him. Well that, at least, I should deal with. “It was an improvement over your last attempt, I suppose. Although perhaps you could direct some of that anger elsewhere next time.”

“Yes, sir.”

The boy looked thoroughly miserable, and Severus was annoyed to find himself softening. And he hadn’t even been annoyed with the brat in the first place! Well, not more than mildly…. “Enough. I’m obviously fine. Go back to your dorms and play chess or some such with one of your little friends, and I’ll see you at the usual time on Thursday.”

There was the sound of receding footsteps, and then Albus leaned over him. “How are you feeling? Harry was a bit nonsensical, but he said you’d hit your head.”

“Hard enough to fracture his skull,” Poppy confirmed. “So it was hardly a little tumble.”

“He—Harry—had a bit of bad reaction to the news you gave him the other day, and I pressed at what was quite apparently the wrong time. I will be fine.”

///////////

Severus stood along the wall with the rest of the professors as Fudge led his entourage into the hall. It wasn’t just the Ministry officials he’d expected…there were reporters as well, one woman that Severus thought he recognized from the Muggle government offices, and two others speaking what sounded like Spanish and dressed in robes that indicated that they were personages of some sort. It was early enough that the students hadn’t started trickling in yet, but no doubt they would be soon, and then….

Well, no one was quite sure what would happen then. Probably a speech of some sort, but if Umbridge knew she hadn’t bothered to enlighten them. Severus had given the woman a double-dose of his potion at dinner last night and had another dose tucked in his sleeve ready for breakfast…he had seriously considered ways that he might dose the Minister this morning as well, but he hadn’t been able to come up with anything viable unless they were seated next to each other. Considering the presence of the reporters, it was probably better that he refrained.

“Who’re they?” Rolanda hissed with a jerk of her chin at the two personages.

“Don’t know the shorter one, but the taller one is Alejandro Morales, liaison from the Spanish Ministry of Magic,” Alastor said before Severus could shrug. “Worked with him once or twice on cases… decent sort.”

“‘Decent’ and hanging about with Fudge?” Severus returned.

“At the time I had more important things to do than question him about the friends he kept.”

“Hush, both of you,” Filius scolded.

Always the peacemaker. Fudge was arranging the Ministerial group to his best advantage when he returned his attention to the visitors. A special table had been brought in to accommodate them all, which ruled out the possibility of him being seated anywhere near the Minister anyway. Perhaps they’ll do this ‘special presentation’ she mentioned at breakfast and we can spare ourselves his company for the rest of the day.

“Now, now, no need to stand on ceremony,” Fudge said with a decidedly insincere smile. “Please, take your seats.”

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” someone muttered off to his left. Pomona, judging by the voice, but it was hard to say for sure. No doubt the feeling is widespread.

The students began to enter a few moments later, and throughout breakfast the room was filled with whispered conversations that seemed to please the Minister. He managed to refrain from making any speeches although he did rise and nod when Albus acknowledged him. Personally Severus would have preferred that he was ignored altogether, but perhaps that would have been a bit too impolitic.

Severus had taken the seat next to Umbridge before anyone else could—not that anyone else would be vying for the position—but he wanted to make sure that she got that dose. As long as she was sitting at the High Table he was going to take advantage of the fact. She left her seat before the end of the meal, moving down beside Fudge and passing over a roll of parchment. Fudge took them with a smirk and turned back to the High Table. “We’ll be accompanying the High Inquisitor on her rounds today, and then we’ll have a special presentation at dinner.”

Joy. Sybil’s second-year Divination class had been first on Umbridge’s list of Friday classes to observe, but since Umbridge had been avoiding the seer Severus was fairly certain that that had changed. Charms, maybe? I know Filius has an after-breakfast class, but I can’t recall what year. Minerva’s Transfiguration class is second—not the NEWT students, more’s the pity—and then History of Magic with the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw first years third. Followed by seventh-year Ancient Runes. Nothing of interest to see, really, provided Minerva kept her temper. He was surprised that Care of Magical Creatures wouldn’t be on the schedule since Hagrid had been a particular target of Umbridge’s. But then it is possible that she’s made up a ‘special’ schedule just for today. He wondered offhand what Harry would say if he made a request to borrow his invisibility cloak. Should have thought of that last night, I suppose.

Unfortunately, with no way to get his hands on the cloak and no legitimate excuse for following the party about otherwise, there wasn’t much he could do besides return to his rooms. He made up another batch of the nerve-shattering potion—his original supply was getting decidedly low—started on the bases for a few other potions that he was planning to brew at some point in the next few days, and then decided that there was no reason that he couldn’t take a quick walk about the castle. It wasn’t something that he normally did, but…well, he needed to pass the time before dinner somehow. There was nearly an hour left.

He’d circled up to the attics and was making his way back down past the infirmary—keeping an eye out for Poppy—when a voice from behind startled him. “Professor?”

He turned quickly, checking his wand automatically although he didn’t draw it. “Mr. Malfoy.” Draco’s face had fallen slightly at his address, and after a moment Severus modified his tone and continued. “Shouldn’t you be in class now? I don’t believe the lessons have ended yet.”

“Professor Slughorn asked me to fetch some burn cream from Madam Pomfrey. I…I’d heard you were injured.”

Severus assumed that he didn’t mean the loss of his eye and arm and nodded slightly. “I took a bit of a bump to the head a few days ago, nothing to be concerned about.”

“I—it wasn’t—I mean—”

He was opening his mouth to insist that the boy simply spit out whatever was concerning him when a bell released the students from their classes. Draco disappeared into the crowd almost immediately, and Severus frowned. That was…odd. But not something that he had time to dwell on just now, and he joined the flow heading down to the Great Hall. Hopefully whatever Fudge had come up with was something that could be easily handled. Or at the very least ignored.

Severus noted that none of the rest of the staff seemed to be eating much of the meal provided, although Fudge and his cronies were putting away more than their fair share. Perhaps I should have chanced drugging one of the dishes. The student tables were quiet as well, but if Fudge’s presentation was supposed to be any kind of secret no doubt they all knew about it by now. The meal drew out entirely too long for his tastes, but finally Fudge rose. “And so it begins.”

Rhiannon, seated to his right, muffled a snicker.

“If I may have your attention, please,” Fudge started. “As I’m sure you all know, the High Inquisitor has been observing the classes here at the school for some time now, and has come up with several recommendations. She’s also discovered a nefarious plot that I’m sure will shock and horrify the majority of the Wizarding world.”

“A ‘nefarious plot’?” Minerva muttered from somewhere beyond Rhiannon. “I wonder who wrote that part of the speech for him.”

“To begin with, she’s discovered that several Hogwarts teachers are completely ineffectual. For example, there is a Care of Magical Creatures professor who is barely understandable and has a notorious record of keeping unsafe pets on school grounds, and a Divination professor who uses her talents to frighten students. Not to mention several other professors who are obviously unqualified—either in their knowledge or their mental stability—to be teaching.”

Technically he’d been perfectly correct in his assessment of Hagrid and Sybil—although Severus was glad that Hagrid wasn’t here to hear it—and Severus wondered if he was one of the mentally unstable. Deep chuckling farther down the table in the opposite direction than that from which Minerva’s comments had come indicated that Alastor thought that he certainly was. Again, Fudge is hardly incorrect in that assessment.

“Clearly these inadequacies must be remedied. But most disturbing is what has been discovered happening among the student body. Delores, if you would.”

Umbridge stood—she’d been seated beside Fudge for this meal—and made that annoying throat-clearing noise Severus had come to detest. “I have discovered—” She broke off with a throat-clear. “I have discovered a plot among the students of Hogwarts to overthrow the Ministry and place Dumbledore in the position of Minister.”

Whispers spread across the room, and Severus glanced at his seatmates. They seemed as much at a loss as he was. Although…Harry and the rest of the Trio were exchanging what they probably thought were covert glances with several other students. I doubt they’re plotting to overthrow the Ministry, but obviously something is going on….

“When Miss Edgecombe came to me, I could scarcely believe my ears, but…well, perhaps she should tell you in her own words.”

A blonde girl seated at the Ravenclaw table stood. Sixth year, bit of a dunce if I recall, especially considering the house she was put in. More of a dunce than he recalled if she was willing helping Umbridge with much of anything, particularly when you considered the death glares that a fair number of other students were throwing in her direction. Most notably the ones that Potter and his friends had been eyeing a moment earlier.

“I was f—”

“You see!” Umbridge shouted, banging her hands down on the table in front of her. “It’s a conspiracy!” Half of the room jumped at her rather nonsensical shout. “They’re plotting, planning to take over the Ministry and replace the officials with Dumbledore and his cronies who will throw the world into disarray!”

What in Merlin’s name…? Granted he expected her to be irrational, but….

“I tried to raise my own army against them, but I couldn’t do it. They were not loyal! My own army—my inquisitorial squad!”

It looked to Severus as though she glared at the Slytherin table at this point…none of the students seated there betrayed anything at the accusation but depending on who she’d approached that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Her waving arms certainly didn’t seem to be indicating anyone in particular, although only quick reflexes on the part of the woman from the Muggle ministry had kept her cup of pumpkin juice from being knocked to the floor during one particularly expansive wave.

“Delores, I—” Fudge stood as well, obviously trying to regain control of the situation before it deteriorated any further.

“I know what happened, though.” Her voice had dropped to a hissed whisper that somehow carried throughout the room all the same. “They were loyal to me, but their minds were invaded. Their opinions changed on the whim of the Blibbering Humdinger!” Back to a shriek. “It came to them in the night and turned them against me!”

“Delores, what are you—”

Clearly this wasn’t in whatever plan Fudge had come up with. Severus leaned back a bit to better enjoy the show.

“The Blibbering Humdinger, I tell you! Haven’t you seen them sneaking about? That’s where the swamp came from—the swamp that was taking over my office was a part of the plot!”

The Lovegood girl leapt from her seat. “But Blubbering Humdingers live in the Arctic! They charm the penguins out of their suits! Which reminds me—has anyone seen my blue socks?”

“What in Merlin’s name is a Blibbering Humdinger?” Devon asked while the rest of the room divided their silent stares between Lovegood and Umbridge. “And I thought penguins lived in Antarctica.”

Severus was about to suggest that he consider the source of the information when Umbridge shrieked again. “It’s a lie! It’s all a lie! She’s one of them! There are spies all over the castle, and I know what they’re doing. I know! They’ll never get past me!”

“Delores!” Fudge interrupted, a bit more stridently this time.

“They’re watching me all the time—I hear them whispering in my head—but I’ll catch them. I’ll catch them all, and lock them in the deepest, darkest dungeon I can find where—” She broke off with a gasp. “They’re in my rooms at night! In the corridors during classes. Their winged messengers have take over my office and continuously try to steal mother’s jewelry! I hear their hissing constantly!”

Severus wasn’t sure whether she was speaking about the Doxies or the Nifflers or something completely imaginary at this point…Nifflers didn’t have wings, Doxies weren’t in the habit of stealing jewelry, and as far as he knew neither species hissed. Then again, it probably didn’t matter much at this point as the other Ministry officials that Fudge had brought along were starting to edge their way away from her—and Fudge—and even the reporters were starting to look skeptical. Unless Fudge pulled off a miracle, the only story that was going to appear in the next set of papers that went out would be about the nervous breakdown of the High Inquisitor. Even if he could buy them off, convince them not to print anything…well, this wasn’t a courtroom with only a few spectators. The Great Hall was filled with students—students that Severus knew all-too-well liked to gossip—and he very much suspected that there would be a run on the owlry tonight for the chance to be the first to convey news of the events back to their relatives and friends. And anyone else they could think of to tell.

“Delores, I know your time here has been stressful. Perhaps—”

“Can you hear them?! I hear them all the time, now. In the halls, in my rooms—they follow me! They—”

“Stupify.” Poppy stood as the woman fell silent.

And I was hoping to see how long she could carry on before her voice gave out.

“The High Inquisitor is obviously distraught.” Poppy’s voice was cold. “I’ll be taking her to the infirmary now, and I’d thank you all to stay well clear until I’ve determined what the issue is.” Fudge opened his mouth, and she nailed him with a glare. “Unless of course you’d like to be the cause of an even worse episode?”

Albus stood while Fudge was still obviously trying to find a way to overrule the mediwitch. “Well, I think that we’ve had enough excitement for the night. Students, if you’d return to your houses I’ll have the house elves deliver pudding directly to the common rooms just this once. Ladies, gentlemen,” he addressed the Ministry officials, “you are of course welcome to stay and finish your meal if you’d like, and if any of you were hoping for a more thorough tour of the school I’m sure one of the professors would be happy to escort you. If you would prefer to return to your homes, the floo in my study is open.”

“Would it be possible to get a connection to Madrid?” the shorter man from the Spanish Ministry of Magic asked.

“Not a direct connection, but if it is an acceptable compromise I can send you to the main London terminal and they will be able to get you a direct connection.”

“That would be fine.” Neither he nor his companion spared a glance for Fudge, who’d was currently opening and closing his mouth but producing no sound.

Severus didn’t try to hide a smirk when he realized what Albus was doing. Dispersing the audience before the Minister had any chance to spin the events to his advantage. If that’s even possible at this point. You didn’t have a speech planned out in advance for when your High Inquisitor proved to be a lunatic, now did you? Now, provided Poppy didn’t discover the potion he’d given Umbridge in the woman’s bloodstream…. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s not as if it can be traced back to me, after all.