Chapter 183. The Dismissal Order
Very soon, the professors all knew that Hagrid had been taken away by the Ministry of Magic for questioning.
Most of the professors were indignant about it.
Hagrid, the Heir of Slytherin?
That was an outright joke.
A few days later, one morning while Wesson was eating in the Great Hall, he chatted about the matter with Professor Flitwick.
"When I saw people from the Ministry show up at the school, I imagined all sorts of possibilities," Professor Flitwick said, stirring his porridge with a troubled expression. "But I never thought the Ministry would end up taking Hagrid away. I dare say Hagrid is absolutely a good man."
"Incomprehensible," said Professor Sprout on the opposite side. The usual cheerfulness had gone from her face as she spoke gravely. "They must be mad to do such a thing."
At that moment, Professor McGonagall came over with a dark expression, a sheet of parchment in her hand.
"Good morning, Minerva," Professor Sprout looked at her in puzzlement. "Did something happen last night? Your dark circles are rather pronounced. Oh, you look dreadful! You might need a little Calming Draught."
As she spoke, Professor Sprout rummaged in her robes for a while and produced a small bottle.
"Thank you, Pomona." Professor McGonagall sat down beside her, set the parchment on the table, accepted the Calming Draught, and drank it down in one go.
Seeing some colour return to McGonagall's face, Sprout asked, "So… what on earth happened? You look as if you haven't rested all night. Don't tell me, the basilisk—"
"Worse than that," sighed Professor McGonagall, turning over the parchment on the table. "Have a look at this. Once you've seen it, you'll understand everything."
They all leaned in and saw that it was a dismissal order.
And the person being dismissed was the last anyone expected—their Headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
At the bottom were twelve bold, gleaming signatures, which meant it had the Board of Governors' approval and that its contents were in order.
"How could this be?" Professor Flitwick said drily. "This is a joke, isn't it?"
"No one would make such a joke even at Hallowe'en," Professor McGonagall said heavily. "As you can see, Dumbledore is no longer the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
The air in the Great Hall seemed to congeal.
Wesson's fingers tapped the tabletop unconsciously, making a dull sound.
"Twelve signatures…" Professor Sprout said uneasily. "How could the Board of Governors agree to such a ridiculous request? Everyone knows Hogwarts is at a critical moment. Without Dumbledore, who else can protect these children?"
"Who did this?" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "You must know, Minerva."
"As far as I know, it was Lucius Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said in a low voice.
At that, they all understood.
Malfoy must have threatened and bribed the Board members in every possible way.
But… why?
What benefit could there be to forcing Dumbledore to step down as Headmaster of Hogwarts?
"That man…" Professor Flitwick ground his teeth.
Wesson had never seen their Charms professor so angry.
"Where is Dumbledore now, Professor McGonagall?" Wesson asked.
In truth, he had known this would happen sooner or later; he simply hadn't expected Lucius to move so quickly.
"I don't know where he is," Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head, her tone stern. "But he asked me to bring a message to everyone."
All eyes turned to her.
"Only when everyone has betrayed me will I have truly left this place. At Hogwarts, those who ask for help will always receive it."
They were silent for a while…
"When will we inform the students?" Wesson asked. "Everyone at Hogwarts ought to know about this."
"Soon. I'm about to go and post the notice."
That afternoon, the news that Headmaster Dumbledore had been removed from his post was pasted up on the noticeboard.
In an instant, the news exploded among the student body.
Dumbledore was, without question, the mainstay of Hogwarts.
Without him, the students could not help feeling panic.
All the more so since there was still a monster roaming about inside Hogwarts.
Without Dumbledore, who else could protect them?
However, no matter what, life at Hogwarts had to go on.
With the Headmaster gone, Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, naturally took Dumbledore's place and became the acting Headmistress for the time being.
And then the students suddenly discovered—
It seemed… nothing had changed at all?
Which was understandable; they rarely saw Dumbledore in the first place.
Time quickly slipped into mid-May, with only half a month left before the final exams.
Wesson was rather troubled.
In the original timeline, events moved along without interruption.
But now everything had been thrown into a muddle.
He did suspect Lockhart, but he had yet to find any evidence.
He couldn't very well storm into Lockhart's office and subdue him, could he?
"Professor Wesson, we've brought the students."
A cold voice broke Wesson's train of thought.
Snape and Lockhart had arrived with a group of students—it happened to be their turn today to escort the students to Care of Magical Creatures.
Under normal circumstances, one professor was sufficient to escort students in daylight, but given Lockhart's particularities, Professor McGonagall sensibly had Snape come along as well.
"All right," Wesson nodded.
"Remember to take them to the Potions classroom after the lesson," Snape said icily. "Potions is next."
"I know," Wesson said. "We won't be late. Don't worry, Professor Snape."
To be honest, he felt that constantly escorting students like this wasn't a long-term solution.
It left him with far less free time.
Snape gave a cold snort and turned to go.
Seeing this, Wesson couldn't help wondering where he had managed to offend the Potions professor.
Or was it simply that Snape was in a foul mood today?
Or had Lockhart done something else ridiculous again?
Thinking this, Wesson looked over at Lockhart—who seemed unusually quiet today.
Lockhart was staring, a little dazed, at the students mustering beneath the trees.
Today was a practical lesson. Wesson planned to introduce the students to Thestrals shortly, so he first had them line up in order.
"What's the matter with you, Professor Lockhart? Are you feeling unwell?" Wesson asked with concern.
"Er… ah, it's nothing," Lockhart came to himself and forced a stiff smile. "I just didn't get much rest. I spent the whole night answering fan letters—you know, I'm always terribly busy…"
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