A student was in trouble. It wasn't fatal, not like the lives lost fifty years ago, but having so much of her life force drained left her with little time.
The Shafiq family, though not part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, had parents who were all Ministry of Magic officials. They were already filing lawsuits at the Ministry.
Someone had to take the blame.
Normally, the headmaster would be the obvious choice. But, as luck would have it, Dumbledore had been sacked at just the right moment. Not only was he removed, but he'd been whisked away from Hogwarts entirely.
The man wasn't even here, and during his suspension, how could they pin the responsibility on him?
Besides, the moment he returned, he sorted the mess out. By all accounts, he couldn't be blamed.
So, they needed a new scapegoat.
Lucius Malfoy had been the one stirring the pot, hadn't he? He'd proposed and orchestrated Dumbledore's dismissal, hadn't he? He'd been the one pressuring the Ministry, right?
Well, that made him the perfect candidate to take the fall.
The school governors were desperate to dodge the blame, the Ministry was eager to appease the Shafiqs, and the Wizengamot needed to maintain their public image.
And so, Lucius's position as a school governor was revoked.
"The Weasley family?" Lucius's face twisted in shock.
'The Shafiqs? Shouldn't it be the Weasleys?'
Luckily, Lucius wasn't daft enough to say that out loud. If he had, losing his governor seat would've been the least of his worries. The charge of using dark magical artifacts to harm a minor wizard would've been more than enough to land him in Azkaban.
"Lucius, if I were you, I'd stay quietly at home and wait for the Ministry to come knocking," someone advised.
"Here's hoping you enjoy your time with the Wizengamot."
After all his scheming to drag Dumbledore before the Wizengamot, not only did the old man walk away unscathed, but Lucius was the one being sent there now.
Talk about a plan backfiring spectacularly.
The Wizengamot was going to cost him a pretty penny this time.
Lucius's already long face stretched even longer.
"Let's see how you manage without my financial support," he spat bitterly. It was the only jab he could muster—there was nothing else he could do.
As Caro had pointed out, he still had to face investigations from both the Ministry and the Wizengamot.
Among Hogwarts' twelve governors, the Malfoy family had always been the biggest financial backer, securing their spot as the top dog. If Lucius hadn't botched his investment in Voldemort, leaving the Malfoys battered and weakened, this misstep wouldn't have cost him his position.
"I reckon the new governor isn't short on gold," Caro said, picking up on Lucius's comment.
Sure, being the biggest backer meant shelling out three thousand Galleons a year—an astronomical sum for an average wizarding family. Even for the wizarding world's truly wealthy… well, it was still a hefty amount.
Three thousand Galleons!
For a Muggle-born wizard, it'd take thirty years to scrape together that much. A Muggle wizard's entire lifetime could only cover seven years' worth.
"Oh? So you've already found a new governor? Go on, tell me—who's the lucky family?" Lucius demanded, his eyes blazing as he glared at Caro.
Kicked out one moment, replaced the next? He'd be damned if that wasn't premeditated.
Caro didn't bother hiding it. He let the name slip with a casual air.
"Dursley."
"What?" Lucius blinked, as if he hadn't heard right, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Mr. Dursley," Caro repeated, a playful glint in his eyes as he watched Lucius.
Even the so-called sharpest Malfoy had his day.
Once upon a time, Lucius had been Caro's idol—elegant, noble, the elite of the pure-blood elite, a role model he'd grown up admiring. Stories of Lucius's exploits had filled his childhood.
Back in the day, a single word from Lucius could send the Ministry's top brass scrambling like headless chickens.
During the Dark Lord's reign, Lucius might not have been the first pure-blood to invest, but his timing was impeccable. The moment he hitched his wagon to that dark star, he shot up to the top ranks of the Death Eaters, becoming a trusted right-hand man.
And now? Look at him.
Lucius, old boy, your time's up. The stage belongs to the young now.
My instincts are sharper than yours ever were.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Hogwarts!" Caro called out. "Let's give a round of applause for Mr. Dursley, our new governor!"
Caro led the clapping, and the Slytherin table erupted in thunderous applause. Hufflepuff followed suit, then Ravenclaw, and finally Gryffindor.
The Great Hall echoed with wave after wave of cheers.
Dudley, the man of the hour, stood up, offering a warm smile and a nod to the crowd. With a slight raise of his hand, the applause instantly fell silent.
His influence at Hogwarts outshone even Dumbledore's.
From the headmaster's seat, Dumbledore watched Dudley with a twinkle in his eye, his smile hiding whatever thoughts were swirling in his mind.
Snape's face remained impassive, but a fleeting upward twitch at the corner of his eye betrayed his mood.
Professors McGonagall and Sprout looked on with regret, wishing Dudley had been in their houses.
Lockhart—well, Lockhart was doing his best to blend into the background.
Each professor wore a different expression.
Dudley's gaze met Lucius's, and their eyes locked. Lucius instinctively took a step back. "I think, Mr. Malfoy, if you've no further business here, you should leave. It's mealtime."
"Your arrival has delayed things quite a bit. Breakfast's gone cold, and some students with sensitive stomachs might end up ill."
It was a polite but unmistakable dismissal.
"Mr. Dursley's right," Caro added. "You've taken up enough of everyone's time. And you're no longer a governor, Mr. Malfoy. If you need to speak with any professors, you can do so after mealtime—as a parent."
He emphasized the word parent with a pointed tone.
"You… you…" Lucius sputtered, his face flushed red, trembling with rage as he pointed at Dudley and Caro, unable to string together a full sentence.
One more push, and he might just keel over, spraying blood with a dramatic wail.
Lucius wanted to roar, but it would only be the impotent rage of a man out of moves.
With a furious flick of his sleeve, he stormed out of the Great Hall, utterly humiliated.
'My foolish father,' Draco thought, shaking his head as he watched his father's clownish exit from the staff table.
'Father, I told you not to cross D. Why wouldn't you listen?'
Why couldn't he see the way things were going?
D's methods, his power—none of it was on a level ordinary people could touch. The smart move would've been to back him, not stand against him.
Bit by bit, the towering image of his father that Draco had built up since childhood was crumbling.
Draco was already thinking: if he were head of the Malfoy family, he'd do a far better job than his clueless father.
He couldn't just stand by and watch the Malfoy legacy waste away under his father's hands, could he?