September 1st, 1996
A shrill whistle blew through the dense smoke billowing from the gleaming scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express. Students bustled around Platform 3/4, pushing rattling trolleys ahead of them, hugging and separating from waving families.
Tristan led Aurelia to the edge of the platform and heaved her up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Here we are. Time to say goodbye, little lady."
His sister squirmed, curling her fingers around his neck and into his shirt. "I'll miss you," she whispered. "Will you write to me? Please."
"Of course, however often you like." He tapped her small nose, grinning at her pout. "Can you write enough words to write back already?"
Aurelia bobbed her head. "I'll write to Fleur as well." She flashed white teeth in a huge grin. "Mommy promised to teach me French and then Fleur can come over and do my hair like she always wears it."
Tristan stilled; the longing stirred in his breast, sweet and sharp as Fleur's vanilla perfume, warm as her gentle touch.
"I'm sure Fleur would like that. Just don't make her charm your hair silver yet." He lowered Aurelia back down and muzzled her golden curls. "Mommy will be furious and chase you around the entire manor. You're lucky she's all round and slow now and can't apparate."
Their mother rolled her eyes and tugged her giggling daughter back. "Enjoy your final year, my son." She embraced him tight. "We love you and we are very proud of you."
Tristan grinned. "You might see me sooner than you think." He drew out of her hug and patted the curve of her belly. "Perhaps my baby sibling doesn't want to stay in there until Christmas?"
The whistle chimed again and a fresh gust of steam billowed from beneath the Express.
"Get on board, everyone," Valeria called, striding along the edge of the platform, the silver Prefects' badge gleaming on her Slytherin uniform. "The Express doesn't wait, not even for school champions."
Their father separated from Galahad. "You go ahead already, your brother will be right with you."
Tristan watched his siblings board the Express, then turned back around, raising an eyebrow at his parents. "Let me guess; some advice for the school year?"
His mother's smile shrank. "Look after your siblings for us."
"Valeria's the responsible one now," Tristan snorted. "She even got a badge for it."
His father placed both hands on Tristan's shoulders. "Your sister hasn't seen what's out there." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Keep an eye open and if there's anything suspicious going on in the Castle, you tell us immediately."
'I bet there will be.' Crossed golden rapiers burned bright as the sun before his mind's eye. 'The Musketeers have been scheming for a long time now...'
"I won't let anyone hurt our family," Tristan murmured. "I promise."
"Good." His father released him. "And remember your other promise to us. We taught you and Fleur much of what we know over the summer; in return, there'll be no more solo efforts."
'But I want to be the one.' Fierce ambition seized him, burning in his breast. 'It ought to be me after everything they did.'
The pistons sizzled and wheels creaked over the steel railing; Valeria's head poked out of the open door. "Hurry up already!"
Tristan caught the handle and hopped onto the moving Express. Their parents waved arm-in-arm as he passed by; his mother blinked fast, holding back a pouting Aurelia and blowing three kisses after them.
Valeria dragged him inside and pulled the door shut, swatting his chest. "If you were anyone else, I'd dock points for that stunt, you prat."
Tristan laughed. "The school year hasn't even started yet, baby sister." He peeked over the line of younger students waving at their families through the windows as they rolled out of King's Cross Station. "Where's Galahad?"
"Our dear brother would rather travel with his dork friends than his weird siblings."
"Good for him." Tristan shrugged. "Let's find a compartment."
"Nuh-uh." Valeria tapped her gleaming badge. "I'm meeting the new Headboy and Headgirl and other Prefects, remember?"
"Right." Tristan blinked. "I guess I'll just sit by myself then?"
Valeria patted his cheek. "Aww, don't worry, big brother. I've got something fun for you to play with while you're waiting for your cute little sister." She fished an envelope from inside her uniform, her green eyes flashing with mischief. "Now that we're on the Express, I can finally give you this."
A single red kiss print stood out from the paper.
'Fleur.' Tristan snatched it out of her hand.
"Relax, I didn't open it." Valeria giggled. "Fleur said it's your birthday present, though I doubt it'll beat whatever present of hers left you grinning like a fool for an entire week."
'How do I look, mon Coeur?'
The echo of Fleur's whispers sent heat rushing up Tristan's cheeks and he busied himself with the envelope, flipping it over. "She gave this to you? Why?"
"Well, she originally wanted to hide it in your trunk, but I told her you've been shrinking it since second year; it must be something sensitive to magic."
'Something enchanted perhaps?' he frowned, brushing his fingers over the red kiss print.
"Anyway, have fun with it," Valeria chirped, spinning on her heel. "I'll be off to the meeting."
Tristan watched her stride through the flock of students, her head held high, then picked his way toward the back of the Express, slipping into an empty compartment and locking the door with a tap of his wand.
A little excitement twisted in his breast as he sliced the envelope open and poured its contents onto his lap. "Let's see what you've got for me, petite Fleur."
A dark blue fleur-de-lis sat upon a small silver locket; tiny red gemstones spread from its elegant petals like thorns, weaving all around the back. Tristan held it up on its slim silver chain, marveling how the craftwork shimmered in the sun.
"It's beautiful," he murmured. "But what does it do? Why shouldn't it be shrunken?"
Tristan peeked back into the empty envelope. 'Nothing... A puzzle then.' A small smile spread over his lips. "Always keeping me on my toes, aren't you, Fleur?"
He touched the tip of his wand to the center of the fleur-de-lis; his magic seeped through cool still metal and gemstones, spiraling into its center like a maelstrom.
Tiny runes flickered to life in the intertwined thorns and the locket grew warm in his fingers, shimmering in a dim glow and pulsing with a faint throb of magic.
Tristan stared into the brightening blue of the fleur-de-lis; a faint calmness spread through him and put him at ease, taking him back to a time spent by the lake shore in the warm summer sun or the quiet shade beneath the oak tree's branches.
The peaceful steady pulse of magic soothed his mind and lifted his heart. Like Fleur's vanilla perfume, like the warmth of her touch and softness of her lips. Like holding her close and feeling her heart beating against his own.
"If this is your heartbeat, Fleur-" Tristan whispered and closed his eyes, holding the locket to his breast, "-then perhaps it needs mine?"
A soft click sounded from between his fingers and hot triumph rushed through him. Tristan blinked his eyes back open and thumbed the locket's fleur-de-lis-covered lid over, staring into his reflection's curious expression.
'A mirror?' A strange certainty seized him. "Fleur," he called out.
The mirror's clear surface remained smooth and cold; a shadow of disappointment flickered through his reflection's blue eyes.
'She probably doesn't have it in reach right now.' Tristan clicked the tiny door back shut. 'Fleur would've never given it to me if she wasn't absolutely certain it worked.'
He dove his head through the slim silver chain and admired the locket in his open palm. "It's almost like the two-way-mirrors Uncle Sirius and Uncle James built by accident."
A spark of pride swelled in his heart, spreading into a grin on his lips as he brushed his thumb over the fleur-de-lis.
'But my beautiful and brilliant veela-girlfriend made them so only our magic activates them, and the enchantments must be far more powerful to work through the wards of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons and across the Channel.'
The door to the compartment slid open; Valeria bustled inside and pocketed her wand, followed by three chatting girls. "Hey, big brother. You don't mind some company, do you?" She slumped onto the bench opposite him, her gaze dipping to the locket. "Another good present? Your grin's almost as goofy as it was two weeks ago..."
Tristan rolled his eyes and slipped Fleur's locket into his shirt. "If you're just here to annoy me, then yes, I do mind."
"No, I'll be good, I promise." Valeria laughed. "You remember Tracey, Lily, and Daphne?"
"Of course." Tristan skidded down the bench to the window. "Your lovely friends..."
Tracey and Lily flushed and sat down next to his sister. Daphne flung a curtain of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and joined him on the bench, her light green eyes tracking the slim silver chain into his shirt.
Tristan leaned further into the corner and closed his eyes, folding his hands behind his head. "How was the Prefects' meeting?"
"It was an entire compartment full of Hogwarts' biggest rule sticklers and wannabe Wizengamot members," Valeria snorted. "But I bet you'll love the new Headboy."
Tristan blinked one eye open with a sigh. "Let me guess; it's either Davies or Diggory?"
"It's handsome Cedric Diggory." Valeria grinned as her friends giggled. "Vanessa Boot from Ravenclaw is Headgirl; she's not bad, although her younger brother can be quite annoying."
"Tell me about it. Terry Boot's been asking me out over the summer again," Daphne murmured, studying her Slytherin-green fingernails. "I still haven't given him the time of the day."
'Okay...?' Tristan shared a look with his sister; she offered him a helpless shrug and an eye-roll.
"Who represents the dorks?" Tracey asked.
"Maggy and Ronald Weasley," Valeria hummed.
"Magnolia Potter?" Lily let out a faint snort. "Granger must be furious about that. I bet she runs straight to McGonagall the moment we arrive at the Castle and demands to be appointed Prefect instead."
Valeria sniggered. "Maggy told me they had a huge fight over the summer. Sure, Granger's got better grades, but let's be honest, if you were a first-year again, who'd you feel more comfortable getting introduced to Hogwarts by?"
"Potter all day," Tracey laughed. "But just what was McGonagall thinking when appointing Ronald Weasley Prefect?"
"The only other options are Finnigan and Thomas..."
"Urgh, no thanks," Lily cringed. "What about the 'Puffs?"
"Susan and Ernie McMillan, both are okay I suppose. And for the 'Claws we've got Su Li-" Valeria glanced at Tristan, a little laughter flashing in her green eyes, "-and Anthony Goldstein. You'll have to be very careful this year, big brother. Anthony might come to defend his sister's honor."
"Oh no." Tristan yawned. "Whatever will I do?"
Tracey smirked. "You could finally join the Dueling Club. Daphne will teach you everything you need in case Goldstein challenges you to a duel, right Daph?"
Daphne glowered at her giggling friends, a little pink blossoming on her pale cheeks. "I'm sure Tristan will be fine, but the offer stands regardless."
'It could be fun, and if it's taught by Flitwick then I might even learn something.' Tristan played with the idea. 'It's a pity no one at Hogwarts could seriously challenge me...'
"I'll think about it," he said. "Depends on how busy I'll be with NEWTs."
The girls frowned at him, exchanging confused glances among each other.
"What?"
"We saw the magic you used in the tournament," Tracey said. "That didn't look like you'd struggle with NEWTs..."
Tristan snorted. "Yeah, but I'm not one for homework and long essays and boring papers, Valeria's got the brains for that."
"Your sister won't have that much time for her books and papers this year." Tracey nudged Lily with her elbow. "You all should've seen the way she and Blaise chatted when leaving the Prefects' compartment together..."
Valeria flushed. "Oh shut it, there's nothing going on. Zabini literally flirts with every girl from fourth year up. I'd never go for some pig like him."
Tristan raised an eyebrow and rose from his seat.
His sister's green eyes widened. "Wait! Where are you going?"
"To find this Blaise Zabini of course." He slid the compartment door open, grinning over his shoulder. "I've been practicing my big-brother-chat for years."
"No, Tristan, you can't just-"
He slid the door shut and silenced her complaints. Tristan glanced to his left, spotting a line of babbling students waiting by the trolley lady.
'Something sweet first I think.'
He queued up behind a girl a bit younger than Valeria, who clutched a small black book and colorful magazine to her chest, bobbing her head to a silent melody and sending a necklace of butterbeer caps swaying.
A dark blue ribbon depicting a white rose held back her silver-blonde hair.
Tristan stared into the flower's petals; the longing rose, tugging at his heart, warm and soft, like brushing his fingertips through Fleur's silken tresses sparkling in the summer sun.
'I miss you, Fleur.' He tugged his eyes away with a deep breath and glanced out of the window into the countryside blurring past them. 'So much has changed since you entered my life. Just one year ago I was right here too, buying sweets and following Adelaide to the bathroom...'
His stomach wrenched in revulsion and he swallowed down a stab of bile. 'I really hope you were better than me before we met, Fleur. I should've waited for you, for someone worthy.' The yearning sharpened. 'For someone different from all the other shallow girls.'
A shoulder bumped into the blonde girl ahead of him; she dropped her book and magazine and staggered into the queue of waiting students.
"Oopsy." Cho Chang sneered, skipping past them with her giggling freckled friend. "Better watch where you're standing, Loony."
Tristan slipped his wand into his palm and tied Chang's shoelaces together; she stumbled with a yelp, plunging face-first down the aisle.
He shoved his wand back up his sleeve and smothered a grin. "Better watch where you're stepping, Cho."
Chang slapped her friend's helping hand away and whirled around. "You're going to fucking pay for that, Peverell."
Tristan blinked. "What are you talking about? Did you hit your head when falling?"
"Don't think you're untouchable because of last year's stupid tournament," Chang hissed, her black eyes spitting fire. "Ced is Headboy now; things will be different this year." She stomped off, her friend hurrying after her.
"I guess she didn't want anything sweet," Tristan murmured and turned back to the blonde girl. "Are you alright? What's your name?"
She stared up at him, protuberant gray eyes calm and still. "I'm Luna Lovegood, but most people call me Loony." Luna glanced down the length of the aisle. "I really hope Cho didn't hurt herself too badly."
"Don't waste too much thought on her." Tristan bent to retrieve her open book and magazine. "Here, let me help you with-"
The words died on his lips and he froze. His family's sigil stood dark and proud from the yellowed parchment in the lower right corner of the book's first page.
The rattling of the train drowned somewhere in the distance as Tristan stared at the tiny combination of straight and curved black lines.
"What's this?" he whispered, flipping the cover and reading off the name. "The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"
"It's my favorite story." Luna beamed. "You know it?"
Tristan shook his head. "What's it about?"
"Death and his gifts." Luna's smile remained full of innocence.
Tristam flipped through the pages, but the familiar sigil met him on every last one. "What's with these?" He tapped the sigil. "Did it come like that from the store?"
"No, I added those myself." Luna's voice swelled with pride. "Daddy showed me how to draw them."
A cold prickle crawled down his spine. "And did your father mention what they stand for?"
"The Deathly Hallows of course." Luna drew a straight line with her index finger through the air. "The wand-" she drew a circle around it, "the stone-" she circumvented it all in a triangle, "and the cloak."
"Deathly Hallows?" Tristan closed the book shut and stared at the fading gold letters on the hardcover.
Luna pried her magazine out beneath his armpit and shrugged. "Keep it for a bit if you like."
"You really don't mind?" Tristan hesitated.
"It's a very good story; more people should read it."
"You'll have it back within a week." He turned to leave. "I promise."
She waved after him. "Goodbye, Tristan Peverell."
Tristan clutched the book tight and headed back to his compartment, holding his breath until he slipped through the door.
Valeria's narrowed green eyes snapped up. "What did you tell Blaise?!" Her gaze dipped to the book. "And what's that?"
"The Tales of Beedle the Bard," he said, sitting back down by the window. "Have you heard of it?"
Valeria shook her head with a frown. "No."
"Seriously?" Tracey laughed. "That's like the most famous wizarding story ever."
A faint unease gnawed at Tristan. 'Then why would our parents never read it to us? Unless…' He glanced from Lily to Daphne. "You two know it as well?"
The girls nodded.
"I pretty much know it by heart," Tracey added. "But I won't mind another read."
'It'll hardly make a difference then.' Tristan flipped open the first page, ignoring the dark sigil in the corner, and cleared his throat. "There were once three brothers, traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight-"
"Midnight." Tracey giggled. "When grandmother read it to me, it was always midnight.
Daphne pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh.
Tristan continued. "In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through, too dangerous to swim across. Learned in the magical arts, the brothers simply waved their wands, conjuring a bridge over treacherous waters. Halfway across it, a hooded figure blocked their path."
"This is where it gets good."
"We know, just shut up, Tracey," Lily whispered.
"And Death spoke to them, angry that he had been cheated, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He congratulated the three brothers upon their magic, offering each a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."
"The oldest brother, a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that wins every duel for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death. So Death fashioned a wand from the branch of an ancient elder tree by the river banks and gave it to the older brother..."
Tristan paused, staring at one particular word. 'No one ever managed to craft wands of elder wood; Gregorovitch said so. Father and I carry the only ones.'
"Tristan?" Valeria waved her hand before his face. "Hellooo?"
"Sorry." Tristan blinked until the faded letters came into focus again. "The second brother, an arrogant man, humiliated Death further still, asking for the power to recall others from his realm. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, a stone with the power to bring back the dead."
'It's just a children's story.' A little disappointment settled in Tristan's breast. 'No magic can bring back the dead...'
"The youngest brother, the humblest and also the wisest, did not trust Death. He asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place, untraceable for even Death. And so Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility."
Tristan's tongue caught on the last word; his father's voice echoed from the back of his skull. 'You'll never feel magic like our Cloak's, Fleur, because it cannot be replicated by humans ever again. Invisible, intangible, undetectable, and unstoppable, like Death is...'
"Tristan, I swear I'll take the book away if you don't get a grip on yourself right now,"Valeria groaned.
Tristan took a deep breath, his heart pounding faster. "In due course, the brothers separated, each for his own destination. The first brother sought out a fellow wizard with whom he once had a quarrel. With the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel. Leaving his enemy dead in the dirt, the first brother boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, the wand that made him invincible. That very night, another wizard crept upon the older brother as he lay wine-sodden, upon his bed. With the wand stolen and the throat cut, Death took the first brother for his own."
"Morgana's saggy tits," Valeria choked, staring at her friends. "This was read to you as children?!"
"It gets much better, just wait," Tracey giggled.
"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and he turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared before him. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as to truly join her. And so Death took the second brother for his own."
Another memory flashed through Tristan's thoughts. 'Perhaps they've found some temporary loophole, but no wizard or witch ever managed to cheat Death permanently. They all fail.'
"Now that's just depressing," Valeria muttered. "Go on, big brother."
Tristan swallowed. "Death searched for the third brother for many years, never able to find him. It was only when he attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. Then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, as equals, they departed this life."
Tristan turned the page over; his family's sigil stared back at him from the blank cover. 'A wand, a stone, a cloak.'
"That's it." Tracey clapped her hands. "What do you think?"
Valeria shook her head with a sigh. "I can see the moral of the story; arrogance gets punished, foresight gets rewarded, but still, it's a little heavy for children, no?"
His sister's friends' responses drowned in the background as Tristan flipped back the pages, rereading the story until he knew the words describing Death's gifts by heart.
'My Cloak's been passed down from father to son for almost a thousand years. Fleur's the best enchantress I've ever met and even she was surprised by its longevity.'
The minutes stretched by and the scenery rushing past their window shifted into blossoming Scottish highlands, but the doubt kept chewing away at Tristan like a worm through an apple.
'A wand of ancient elder wood, powerful and old as they come. A Cloak of Invisibility, shielding its wearer from Death himself.' A grim certainty took hold of him. 'I've seen both with my own eyes. Father even admitted that his wand is an old family wand...'
He recalled Luna's words, tracing his family's crest with the edge of his thumb. 'And then there is our sigil...'
A thought struck like lightning in the night. "Grindelwald," Tristan blurted.
The chatter paused and all four girls stared at him.
"Did you just say Grindelwald?" Valeria cocked an eyebrow in amusement.
"Sorry." Tristan shook his head, blinking blurred images away as he stood. "I'll catch some fresh air so you can change into your uniforms."
"Feel free to change in here once we're done," Tracey giggled. "I know Daphne's dying to catch a peak."
Tristan snorted and slipped past a glaring Daphne out into the aisle, shoving one of the windows open by an inch and letting the cool evening breeze play in his hair.
'Grindelwald...'
He fished his amulet out from underneath his shirt and studied the sigil engraved on the dark stone. "Krum recognized it as a sign Grindelwald used back at Durmstrang. What was it Luna called them again?"
'The Deathly Hallows...'
"Valeria thought the story was about the pitfalls of arrogance."
'But Luna said it's about Death's gifts and she sounded so convinced when explaining them to me...'
"Did Grindelwald perhaps believe in them as well? Is that why he used the crest? Is that why our parents never shared the story with us? Because they didn't want us to find out what those items truly are?"
Tristan took a deep breath to calm his thoughts and stared out into the sun setting behind tall mountains.
'Who the hell can I ask all these questions without taking any risk?'
Valeria and her friends joined him out in the aisle as the Express ground to a halt next to Hogsmeade's platform. "You haven't changed yet, big brother, don't make me dock points."
"Right away, Miss Prefect." Tristan flicked his wand, charming his pants and shirt into silver and green-highlighted plain black robes, and followed his sister out of the train in search of an empty carriage.
Huge skeletal, winged horses watched him with soft approval in their wide, dark eyes.
'I've got more than one reason for why I can see you now, don't I?' Tristan let them sniff at his wrist with cold snouts as he passed. 'Death Eaters at the Word Cup, faceless assassins in the Forbidden Forest, ICW employees in Switzerland, Dorea...'
A heavy weight tugged at his heart and he swallowed the knot of guilt before joining Valeria in a carriage. 'And there's Krum, the Centauri, and Marcus Flint...'
He stared out across the Black Lake as the Castle drew larger, a pair of golden rapiers burned before his mind's eye, bright as fiendfyre, '-and soon it'll be anyone else who sides with the Musketeers.'
Students swarmed over the courtyard and through the entrance hall, their shouts and laughter bouncing off the tall walls and ceiling, their footsteps reverberated through the castle like a thunderstorm.
Tristan lowered himself onto the bench by the end of the Slytherin table, his mind wandering off once more as the Great Hall filled.
'Let's say these Hallows are real; would collecting them really change anything?'
He slid his wand from his sleeve and spun it on the table with his fingers as the sorting hat's song began. 'The Cloak's already mine. Gregorovitch said my wand rivals my father's and that no other would serve me just as well. But the stone...'
A faint flutter of hope lifted his heart. 'What if the stone was real and the story merely twisted its purpose to better attend to children? What if I could see Dorea again... if only to tell her I was sorry...'
Valeria nudged him with her elbow. "Any idea who the pink lady is?"
Tristan tracked her line of sight over the row of first years, waiting to be sorted, to the staff table. A dumpy, wide-faced woman wearing a horrible flamingo-pink cardigan sat to McGonagall's left.
His mood soured as things fell in order like dominoes. "That's Dolores Umbridge. She was there for Father's trial."
Valeria wrinkled her nose. "What's she doing up here?"
"Teaching," Tristan muttered. "Probably that new class they've enrolled all of us in."
When the final first year was sorted, Headmistress McGonagall stepped toward the lectern and spread her arms. "Welcome–"
Someone cleared their throat behind her.
Umbridge rose from her seat, knotting the buttons of her cardigan. "My name is Dolores Jane Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, and your new Professor for Wizarding Decorum."
McGonagall's lips thinned to an unknown level and she dropped her arms.
Umbridge offered her a simper sweet smile, then turned back to all four House Tables. "The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. As such, we are deeply concerned by troublesome reports of slipping standards at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry when compared within our international magical community."
Tristan snorted.
Eyes flickered to him from all around the Great Hall in a swell of whispers.
"What's the pink toad talking about?" Tracey whispered to Valeria. "Your brother beat Beauxbatons and Durmstrang in the tournament last year."
Umbridge cleared her throat again and her smile sharpened. "The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and built upon, and the unique gift of magic, with which we are born, must be nurtured and honed by the careful instruction of those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."
She paused and bowed to the staff members, none of whom bowed back. "However, without a diligent review of current methods, dangerous deviations from tradition could, if not immediately negated, threaten the very framework our society is built upon and potentially throw the Wizarding world back to medieval times with no Ministry of Magic to uphold law and order, and dangerous vigilantes risking the Statute of Secrecy with their carelessness."
Umbridge tutted, then smiled so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly.
"But as your new Professor and Hogwarts' very first High-Inquisitor, I am here to guide us back to an era of effectiveness, and accountability, where we intend on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
'So that's one of the reasons why she's here...' Tristan picked up his wand as Umbridge sat back down to a brief, polite applause, a satisfied smirk spread across her wide face.
'It doesn't matter, aside from being annoying she can't do anything against me. And I have more important things to worry about this year.'