The tension between Dumbledore and Fudge seemed to grow as they both stood in silence, waiting to see who would speak first. The room felt heavy with anticipation, as if the first to break the silence would somehow lose ground in this subtle power play.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Fudge couldn't hold out any longer. He cleared his throat awkwardly, forcing a smile as he spoke.
"Awful weather, isn't it, Albus?" Fudge began nervously. "I came all the way from the Ministry, and I do apologize for interrupting your Halloween feast. But as you know, I wrote to you earlier about this."
The students exchanged curious glances, realizing that Dumbledore had known about Fudge's arrival beforehand.
"Yes, Cornelius, I received your letter," Dumbledore replied, his tone calm but firm. "And I responded. You shouldn't have come now."
He waved a hand toward Professor McGonagall, signaling her to escort the students out. The Great Hall erupted into murmurs and whispers, with everyone reluctant to leave—they were desperate to overhear the conversation between the Minister of Magic and the Headmaster, assuming it must involve some critical matter that could threaten the wizarding world.
Despite their hesitation, McGonagall's stern gaze was enough to get the students moving. Slowly, they filed out, their disappointed grumbles fading as they exited the hall.
Once the last student had left, Fudge awkwardly took a seat in McGonagall's vacant chair. He seemed even more out of place now, shifting uneasily as he began to explain.
"But you see, Albus," Fudge said, clearly uncomfortable, "I'm under a lot of pressure at the Ministry. On the night of the incident, Lucius was caught by Alastor… Now, to be honest, it wasn't a particularly serious matter, and it did confirm his innocence."
Fudge continued, his words fumbling. "Lucius has always been an innocent man, you see. He's got influence—he's bribed quite a few important officials and even donated a building to the Ministry. I had no reason to keep him locked up any longer."
"Of course," Dumbledore replied coolly, "we've established that Malfoy wasn't involved in this affair. But that doesn't mean Professor Snape is guilty."
At the mention of Snape's name, the Potions Master's smug smile froze on his face. Moments earlier, he had been relishing Hagrid's discomfort. Now, it was his turn to face the spotlight.
Hagrid, on the other hand, seemed to regain his composure after hearing Snape's name. He straightened up, reaching for another bottle of mead as if nothing had happened.
Fudge gave a nervous chuckle, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Naturally, we'll investigate, we'll hold a trial if necessary. The problem is, Severus wasn't in the castle the night it happened. He was—"
Dumbledore cut him off sharply. "That night, Severus was following my orders, investigating the circumstances surrounding Professor Robert's death. He wasn't at the Ministry."
Fudge blinked in surprise, his eyes narrowing as he processed the new information. "You're suggesting Robert's death wasn't an accident?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "It was an accident, yes. But his background raised certain concerns. I needed clarification, so I sent Severus to verify a few details. The break-in at the Ministry has nothing to do with him."
Fudge stiffened. "Albus, you should have informed me about this private investigation. I could have sent Aurors to assist."
His tone shifted, becoming more assertive. "Severus has a criminal record, Albus. You vouched for him during that trial, but with such a significant incident occurring now, the Ministry must take precautions. I've already spoken to the school governors."
"Cornelius, I assure you—removing Severus will do nothing to help your situation," Dumbledore replied, his blue eyes flashing with barely concealed anger.
"You must see it from my perspective," Fudge countered, fiddling nervously with his hat. "There's immense pressure on me. People need to see that I'm doing something. If it turns out Severus isn't involved, we'll return him, no harm done. But I have to take him into custody."
"Take me?" Snape's voice was icy cold. "Take me where?"
"It won't be for long," Fudge said, avoiding Snape's gaze. "It's not a punishment, more of a precaution. Once we find the real culprit, you'll be released, with full apologies."
With that, Fudge stood up and signaled for the Aurors to follow him. As they left the hall, Dumbledore gave Snape a regretful shake of his head.
….
The unexpected arrival of the Ministry had cast a shadow over the Halloween festivities, and the following day, the students were still buzzing with gossip.
Everyone had assumed that Hagrid would be the one taken by the Aurors—after all, he had been visibly shaken when they arrived. But it was Snape who had disappeared instead.
The entire situation felt surreal, and Gryffindor students were practically glowing with excitement. With Snape gone, they were hopeful that their house could claw its way back from the brink of a historical low in points.
Sure enough, the house points counter slowly began to tick upward, the red gems gradually filling the Gryffindor hourglass once again.
The disappearance of Snape seemed like a cause for celebration across the board—except in Slytherin House. The Slytherins were downcast, slinking through the halls without their leader, their once-proud heads hanging low.
Snape's fate seemed to be the subject of endless speculation. Was he the mastermind behind the Ministry attack? Was he simply a participant? Or was he just cooperating with the investigation?
The professors remained tight-lipped, revealing nothing about what had happened after the Aurors arrived.
In Snape's absence, Madam Pomfrey had been temporarily assigned to teach Potions. Word had it that she was a master of potion-making, though this remained to be seen.
After all, everyone suspected that the vile-tasting potions served in the hospital wing were the work of Snape, who loved to mix in disgusting—yet harmless—ingredients.
Still, students were relieved to have Madam Pomfrey in charge. At least they wouldn't have to endure Snape's relentless sarcasm and arbitrary point deductions.
But their relief was short-lived.
Madam Pomfrey entered the warm dungeon classroom in her purple robes, surveying the surroundings with a critical eye. Clearly, she wasn't impressed with the setup.
With Snape out of the picture, it seemed she planned to make a few changes.
"Now," Madam Pomfrey began briskly, "put away your cauldrons and take out your quills."
The students exchanged puzzled looks.
Put away the cauldrons? In Potions class?
Without cauldrons, how were they supposed to brew anything?
William packed away his cauldron, pulling out his quill, ink, and parchment.
Madam Pomfrey flicked her short wand at the blackboard, and neat lines of writing appeared on it:
Post-Injury Care for Wizards!
"Now, this course has traditionally been taught by Professor Snape," Madam Pomfrey continued, her tone sharp. "Potion-making is a difficult subject, and many young wizards experience issues after attending these classes."
She paused, choosing her next words carefully.
"Some might say these issues are… psychological, perhaps even bordering on clinical depression in extreme cases."
She folded her arms, surveying the class. "So yes, potion-making is a dangerous discipline."
William glanced at Madam Pomfrey, utterly baffled. The problems she was describing were clearly Snape's fault, not the subject of Potions itself!
Madam Pomfrey was a master of her craft, all right—a true master of twisted logic. Hogwarts had certainly struck gold with her!
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