Harry Potter: Archmage of Another World

Placing the cup down, Augustus cast a faint smile in Fudge's direction and said indifferently, "Minister, your words are truly profound. What does this 'good' mean? My comprehension is lacking; I hope you won't hesitate to enlighten me."

Fudge waved his hand angrily and gestured for Umbridge. "Did you bring it?"

"It's all recorded in this crystal, Minister," Umbridge replied with a vindictive smile, her face filled with the satisfaction of revenge.

"Do you know what this is?" Fudge asked, casting a glance at Dumbledore, who sat unperturbed behind the Headmaster's desk, his calm demeanor unwavering. Fudge turned back to Augustus and placed the recording crystal in front of him.

"Minister, what refined tastes you have, calling us here so late to admire such a crystal. But it seems you've invited the wrong audience. This would be better appreciated lakeside with Professor Umbridge under the moonlight—what a picturesque scene that would be."

Fudge glanced briefly at Umbridge's unattractive face, feeling a wave of disgust. Turning back, he snapped, "Augustus, don't play dumb. This recording crystal contains the complete evidence of your weekly gatherings on the seventh floor. The evidence is irrefutable. No matter how you dodge or evade, it's useless."

"Now, confess everything. Perhaps then we can resolve this through judicial channels. After all, I have some rapport with your father. But that's conditional on you coming clean. If you persist in evasion, the Dementors—who have quite the impression of you—will not be so easy to handle. Handing you over to them would be a simple matter." Fudge's tone grew colder, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Leaning back in his chair, Augustus picked up the teapot on the table, tilting it slightly as fragrant green tea filled his cup. Taking the cup in hand, he blew the steam aside, gazing past the rim of the cup at the murky tea leaves at the bottom. "Minister, I truly don't understand what you're saying. Perhaps you've been misled. You see, recording crystals can be forged. Such evidence wouldn't hold up even in the Wizengamot. If you're basing accusations against the sole heir of the Julius family on something like this, I doubt anyone in the magical council would support you. Don't you agree?"

Seeing Augustus's calm and indifferent expression, Fudge barely restrained himself from cursing out loud. Unfortunately, as a public figure, ruining his long-cultivated image here would hardly be worth it.

"Minister, I think," Umbridge began softly, "that bringing in the informant might speed things up."

"The informant!" Fudge exclaimed, clapping his hands in realization. "Yes, bring in the student who reported them!" He shot Augustus a smug look. "Nothing beats a solid witness, right, Mr. Augustus?"

Augustus lowered his head to sip his tea, his delicate features remaining indifferent. "If Minister Fudge says so, it must be correct."

For several minutes, they waited in silence, no one looking at anyone else. Then Harry heard the door open behind him. Umbridge entered, dragging Marietta Edgecombe by the shoulder. Marietta was covering her face with her hands.

"Don't worry, dear, don't be afraid," Professor Umbridge cooed, patting her back soothingly. "It's all over now. You've done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased. He'll tell your mother you're a good girl. Minister, Marietta's mother," she added, glancing at Fudge, "is Madam Edgecombe from the Floo Network Office in the Department of Magical Transportation—you know, she's helping us monitor Hogwarts fireplaces."

"Splendid, splendid!" Fudge said warmly. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Now, dear, lift your head and tell us—good heavens!"

When Marietta raised her head, Fudge recoiled in horror, nearly stumbling into the fire. He cursed under his breath, stomping out the smoking hem of his cloak. Marietta let out a wail and pulled her robe collar up to her eyes, but not before everyone had seen the rows of vivid purple pustules spelling the words SNEAK across her nose and cheeks.

"Tsk, tsk," Augustus murmured, lowering his teacup. His gaze fell briefly on Marietta's face. "It seems this young lady has suffered greatly. How could the Ministry treat such a righteous informant, such a fair witness, so unjustly? Tsk, tsk."

Marietta cast a fearful glance at Augustus but remained silent, lowering her head.

"Never mind the spots, dear," Umbridge said impatiently. "Pull your robe down and tell the Minister—" But Marietta only wailed again and shook her head furiously.

"Fine, you silly girl, I'll tell them," Umbridge said irritably. Then she plastered on her nauseatingly sweet smile and explained, "Here's the situation, Minister. Our operatives identified this student's face in the recording crystal. To get more information, I personally summoned her mother to the school. After some... pleasant negotiations, this young lady revealed that they frequently gather in the Room of Requirement. Unfortunately, these nasty jinxes," she waved dismissively toward Marietta's hidden face, "activated, and once she saw her reflection in my mirror, she refused to say another word."

As he listened to Umbridge's explanation, Augustus's pale hand tightened slightly around his teacup before relaxing again.

"Ah, I see," Fudge said, his voice adopting a falsely gentle tone as he stared at Marietta. "Your mother is a fine employee, dear. What you've done is very brave and entirely correct. Now, can you tell us what happens during these meetings? What's the purpose? Who attends?"

But Marietta only glanced at Augustus, seated calmly in his chair, and stayed silent.

"Is there a counter-curse to deal with... that?" Fudge gestured at Marietta's face impatiently. "So she can speak freely?"

"I haven't been able to find one," Umbridge admitted reluctantly.

Augustus drained the last of his tea and suddenly drew a silver wand from his robes. Fudge, who had been watching Augustus warily, startled, shouting, "What are you doing?!"

He scrambled to hide behind Kingsley in panic.

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