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At long last, the signing was finished. Just when everyone thought they could finally breathe, Umbridge produced yet another sheet of parchment from her stack.
"The second rule," she announced in her syrupy, officious voice. "Concerning the dueling venue. Article Seven, Section Six of the Ministry of Magic's Safety Regulations clearly stipulates that any public magical dueling ground must be equipped with an independent protective barrier generator certified by the Ministry itself. Now, the original defensive wards surrounding the Hogwarts arena… hmm… unfortunately lack the Ministry's official certification, as well as the required records of periodic safety inspections. Therefore, I have already arranged for specialists from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to install, prior to the exhibition duel, the Ministry's very latest model of what we proudly call the 'Absolute Safety Shield.'"
"Install?" Karkaroff nearly roared the word, his face twisting in fury. "This dueling stage is itself a masterpiece of modern magical craftwork, and it was only just completed! Last night the three of us headmasters already tested it together. Its protective wards are ten thousand times more reliable than the worthless scrap metal contraptions you Ministry people drag around!"
"Headmaster Karkaroff, mind your language, if you please."
For the briefest moment, the fixed smile on Umbridge's face cracked, stiffening like a mask about to fall. Yet she quickly recovered her sugary composure. "Yes, it may indeed be newly constructed, and yes, it has already passed your personal inspections. But when it comes to safety and controllability in the field of modern magic, the Ministry requires far more rigorous testing. Only the Ministry's standards are uniform, scientific, and repeatedly verified. And for the sake of our international friends, the professors sent here by your own schools, this is a step we cannot omit. The installation process should take… hmm… approximately two hours. So I must ask everyone to remain calm and patient."
No sooner had her voice fallen silent than several expressionless wizards, dressed in work robes emblazoned with the Ministry crest, marched stiffly into the arena. Each carried a bulky and awkward contraption on his shoulder. Without so much as a word, they headed straight for the massive stone monolith at the center of the dueling platform and began hammering and clanking away as they set up the so-called safety apparatus.
From the stands, murmurs of discontent were already rippling through the student spectators, punctuated by sharp hisses of dissatisfaction.
And just when everyone was straining to suppress their anger and endure the endless wait for this "safety shield" to be installed, Umbridge once again lifted her gaze, this time fixing it on the row of professors seated in the competitors' bench.
"The third point." Her voice rang out anew, sharper now, carrying a glare that could slice like glass. "Concerning the content of the duel. In order to ensure that this remains a safe demonstration and to prevent underage students from being exposed to harmful influences or attempting reckless imitations, the Ministry strongly recommends that the exhibition duel be restricted strictly to basic protective charms and the use of Expelliarmus. Any spells that are offensive, destructive, or potentially capable of producing uncontrollable consequences, such as certain… hmm… more aggressive incantations, must be expressly forbidden from appearing."
She paused, allowing her gaze to sweep slowly across the hall before settling with deliberate weight on Professor Baffelus of Durmstrang. "I am well aware that Durmstrang's approach to magical practice and instruction tends to be… rather direct and uncompromising. For the sake of safety, Professor Baffelus, I must insist that you follow this guideline with absolute precision."
"What?!"
Karkaroff could no longer contain himself. His thin, bony hand shook as he jabbed a finger toward Umbridge, his whole body quivering with rage. "You would have a Durmstrang dueling master, in the midst of an exhibition meant to command the eyes of the three entire school, permitted to use nothing but the Shield Charm and Expelliarmus? This is an outrage! An insult! A trampling of Durmstrang's proud dueling tradition! Professor Baffelus is a master of real combat, of domination, of techniques designed to strip an opponent of all power to resist! He is not here to play at the childish parlor tricks you people seem to take for magic!"
Professor Baffelus himself said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes. His lips pressed into a hard line, and in the depths of his eyes blazed a fury that needed no words.
He folded his arms tightly across his chest, his breath rising and falling in heavy waves, chest heaving as though at any moment he might rip his wand free and show them precisely what Durmstrang magic meant.
Umbridge, however, did not falter. Instead she gave a theatrical little gasp, pressing one hand to her chest as if genuinely shocked. "Oh, heavens, Headmaster Karkaroff, there is no need to get so worked up! Safety… safety is the one and only priority here! Why, just look at Professor Nixia of Beauxbatons. She seems to understand perfectly."
Her eyes flicked toward the elegant witch with her waterfall of silver hair, though deep within that gaze flashed the briefest spark of distaste. "Graceful defense can showcase the refinement and artistry of magic just as well, can it not? Excessive aggression only spreads fear where none is needed, especially in front of so many children. The guiding spirit of the Ministry is 'harmony, safety, and control.' And this is what must be followed."
Nightingale's face remained a mask, composed and expressionless, but in the shadowed depths of her eyes a flicker of coldness stirred and was gone.
Up in the stands, the students of Hogwarts could no longer contain themselves. The tension had been building since Umbridge first began her endless list of rules, and now the dam of their patience broke.
"Who does she think she is?"
Ron muttered furiously to Harry and Hermione, his face red with indignation. "Professor McGonagall told us herself that the wards on that dueling platform are so strong even a dragon couldn't smash through them! And what's that ugly lump of junk she's putting up compared to that? And now she wants the professors to use nothing but Disarming Charms? What's the point of watching a duel like that? There'll be nothing left worth seeing!"
"Typical bureaucracy!"
Hermione's brows knit together tightly as she fished a thick volume titled "Compilation of Current Ministry of Magic Regulations" from her bag. She flipped through it at lightning speed, eyes scanning line after line. "Every single clause she's been quoting is either taken wildly out of context or drawn from newly issued so-called 'guidelines' whose scope is vague at best. None of them are binding laws. What she's doing is a complete abuse of the word 'safety' to interfere in things she has no business controlling."
Ginny wrinkled her nose in open disgust. "Just look at her in that ghastly shade of pink, with that fake sugary smile plastered across her face. She's like a toad that smeared on lipstick and decided it could pass for a lady."
Luna and Astoria didn't bother to argue. They only sighed softly and tried to soothe Ginny, who was seething with barely contained anger.
"Oi, listen up, everyone," George Weasley suddenly raised his voice, making sure the students around him could hear. "I'll wager a Galleon that Umbridge's next decree will be that all dueling wands must be painted pink, and before casting any spell, you'll have to recite the 'Ministry Safety Guidelines' word for word!"
Fred immediately jumped in, grinning wickedly. "And she'll rule that victory isn't decided by skill at all, but by whose smile fits the Ministry's definition of 'harmony' the best!"
The surrounding crowd burst into muffled laughter, stifled but impossible to hold back, bubbling through clenched teeth. The absurdity of the joke rang true, and for a moment the tension cracked into bitter amusement.
Even the visiting students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, though they couldn't understand every word, caught enough from the expressions of their Hogwarts counterparts, and from Umbridge's own behavior, to fully grasp just how loathed this so-called "Safety Supervisor" had already become.
On the platform, the three headmasters stood together, their expressions uniformly grim.
Dumbledore still wore his mask of calm, yet behind the gleam of his half-moon spectacles the warmth had drained from his eyes. Madame Maxime drew herself up to her full height, her back rigid and her chin lifted high, as though enduring an insult too grave to be acknowledged. Karkaroff, by contrast, trembled with rage, his skeletal fingers clenching his wand so tightly it seemed he might snap it in two, his entire frame vibrating with the desperate urge to hurl a curse at Umbridge where she stood.
This woman, armed with nothing more than a quill and the Ministry's seal, was wielding "safety" and "regulation" like iron chains. With every honeyed phrase and every added restriction, she was slowly strangling the spirit of the gathering, smothering the brilliance and spectacle it had been meant to display.
The very air seemed to grow heavy, choked with an oppressive disgust that pressed down on everyone present. And all of it converged on a single figure swathed in pink.
Yet Umbridge appeared entirely unaffected. Or perhaps it was not ignorance at all. Perhaps she was reveling in it. She seemed to drink in the illusion of control, basking in the belief that every stare, every strained silence, revolved around her alone.
Her face was fixed in that nauseatingly sweet smile, lips pursed as though painted on, while her beady eyes swept over what she clearly thought of as her "domain." She lingered on the crowd like a predator savoring its territory, ready at any moment to spring forward with her next decree, wrapped in the sickly words of "for your own good."
When a Ministry official stepped forward, bowing slightly as he handed over a thick stack of parchment filled with safety pledges, each one crowded with signatures and weighty obligations, to Professor Sargeras, the young man's patience finally snapped.
He had watched silently, letting the three headmasters endure this humiliation. And he thought, with a sharp flicker of dark amusement, that these three truly were remarkable. To suffer this pink toad prancing on their very hands, croaking out insults in the guise of rules, and still keep their composure… No wonder they held the title of headmaster. Their capacity for endurance was something extraordinary.
But he was not in the habit of indulging others' arrogance.
Expressionless, he snapped his fingers. A sudden burst of pale-blue flame leapt forth, enveloping the stack of parchment. The documents burned in an instant, curling to ash without so much as a sound, the flames swallowing oath and ink alike before fading into nothingness.
Without pause, his wand moved lazily, a mere flick toward the hulking "Absolute Safety Sheild" in the center of the dueling platform.
Gasps turned into screams from the Ministry staff as, before their eyes, the cold metallic construct began to glow red-hot, then sag and drip, the whole thing collapsing into a molten torrent of iron. The liquefied mass writhed like blood-red lava, then was seized by an unseen force, a violent surge of magic wrapping around it.
Like a glob of foul mucus, the glowing sludge was wrenched up and hurled aside, flung with brutal force until it landed at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, hissing and smoking as it struck the earth.
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[Chapter End's]
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