If there was one thing Umbridge couldn't stand, it was being ignored.
She had climbed the Ministry ladder step by step because she loved the spotlight and the awe in people's eyes when they looked at her. Now, she was just one step away from the role of Deputy Minister—soon, she could become the second most powerful figure in the Ministry of Magic. Yet, these people had the nerve to call her "the Ministry of Magic's nobody"? Didn't they realize who they were dealing with?
Umbridge could not tolerate such an insult, and her whole body trembled with rage.
"I am Dolores Umbridge!" she shrieked, her voice sharp, "Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and a member of the Wizengamot!"
"Oh, so you're a director?" Kyle asked, appearing slightly uneasy as he shifted his weight. "Then, you're responsible for those statements you made, aren't you?"
Umbridge raised her chin defiantly. "When I—"
"Ahem, I don't think Dolores meant it quite that way," Fudge interrupted with a forced cough, attempting to smooth things over. "She's simply very concerned for the boy's well-being. After all, wouldn't it be wiser for a young wizard to avoid a werewolf rather than attempting to defeat it?"
"Of course, I completely agree with you, Cornelius," Dumbledore said with a serious nod. "Then, regarding her talk of expulsion..."
"Oh, that was just a joke!" Fudge laughed, waving his hand. "The Ministry wouldn't expel a young hero who's just saved so many lives. Dolores was only trying to give him a reminder, so he wouldn't be reckless next time, right?"
Fudge gave Umbridge a quick, meaningful glance. Catching on, Umbridge immediately plastered on a sugary smile and added, "Yes, Minister, thank you for understanding. These young wizards are so arrogant these days. Just because they score well on an exam, they think they're ready to take on a werewolf! He needs a lesson in humility to help him live a little longer."
"Oh, I'll remember that, Madam," Kyle replied with a polite, if insincere, smile. "And by the way, wearing an outfit like that really makes you look younger."
Umbridge glanced down at her pink cardigan, took it as a compliment, and walked away with her head held high. Director Sykes, however, noticed the slight edge in Kyle's tone and glanced at him with a glimmer of amusement, recognizing the boy's jab at Umbridge's attempts to appear youthful.
Just then, the Aurors returned.
"Rufus, what do you make of it?" Fudge asked.
"It's a werewolf," Rufus Scrimgeour murmured. "He was admitted to St. Mungo's only yesterday."
"A werewolf, indeed…" Fudge frowned, anxiously gripping his hat. The thought of the panic that could ensue if people discovered a werewolf had transformed during daylight was a nightmare. The backlash would certainly fall on him, the Minister of Magic. This must not get out.
Fudge's expression shifted as an idea formed in his mind.
"Minister, I'll take the boy to rest now," Director Sykes interjected, stepping forward. She gestured to a young Healer beside her, adding, "Any Aurors with questions can consult Healer Helbert here, and he will assist them however necessary."
Fudge glanced between her and Dumbledore, then nodded. "Yes, of course. Go on ahead."
"Thank you, then excuse us."
...
The sixth floor of St. Mungo's is home to the tea room and shop. Director Sykes led Kyle and Dumbledore to a booth and ordered each of them a cup of black tea.
Dumbledore took a sip and said, surprised, "This is my favorite blend. I thought you might have forgotten."
"Five sugar cubes. I never forget," Director Sykes replied with a hint of lightness. "If everything goes as planned, the Minister will likely take the werewolf with him."
Dumbledore set down his cup. "Cornelius can be a bit... intense at times."
"Never mind that. Let me tell you what I know," Director Sykes continued. "The man arrived at St. Mungo's yesterday afternoon, claiming he'd been scratched by a werewolf. The Healers, as a precaution, placed him in a special ward under close observation.
"Last night happened to be a full moon, but he didn't transform. So, he was moved back to a regular ward."
St. Mungo's has a well-defined protocol. In cases involving werewolves, they would never allow the patient to be around others unless it could be confirmed he wasn't infected.
That was why the werewolf had managed to escape from the adjacent room.
Kyle nodded in understanding.
A werewolf who didn't transform on a full moon but did so during the day… it was, admittedly, hard to believe. The Healers likely hadn't expected such an unusual case either.
"Could this be some kind of mutation?" Kyle asked.
"Probably not." Director Sykes looked thoughtful. "When I arrived, I noticed a distinctive potion scent in his blood."
"A potion?"
"Yes, and it was remarkably similar to Wolfsbane Potion." Director Sykes frowned. "But this version has more Mandrake leafs in it... along with something else."
Mandrake...
Kyle knew about it. Just as there is a branch of magic called Charms, there is a branch of herbalism for powerful substances. Mandrake is one of those powerful substances.
Regular charms can't incorporate it; only curses and poisons can.
If an Auror finds a whole Mandrake in a potion bottle, the wizard or witch who made it will spend at least a year in Azkaban.
Kyle looked at Director Sykes in amazement. "You can tell what potions he's been taking just by smelling it?"
"Wolfsbane Potion and Mandrakes are rather unique," explained Sykes. "They seep into the soul, leaving a lingering trace."
"Kyle, you might not know, but Pegasia is one of the greatest Potioneers of the last two hundred years."
At this, Dumbledore leaned over to Kyle and whispered, "I've always wanted her to teach Potions at Hogwarts, but she feels she's needed here at St. Mungo's."
Though Dumbledore spoke quietly, in the close quarters of the booth, it was impossible for his words to go unheard.
"Albus... must you say that?" Director Sykes said with a hint of exasperation. "Slughorn is also one of the greats… and that young man Snape—his talent isn't far behind mine."
"It's different, Pegasia," Dumbledore replied, taking another sip of his black tea. "You can never have too many good professors."