Umbridge marched them out of the classroom, her face a mottled, ugly purple. She gripped her wand tight, her breath hissing.
"I will be escorting you myself. To ensure the Headmaster fully grasps this insubordination."
The walk to the stone gargoyle was silent and tense. Umbridge spat the password, and they rode the spiral staircase up to the circular office.
Dumbledore looked up from his parchment. His eyes lacked their usual twinkle. "Professor Umbridge. Harry. Victor. To what do I owe this pleasure on the first morning of term?"
"These students are disrupting my class with vicious, attention-seeking lies about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Umbridge snapped.
"Furthermore, Mr. Malfoy used highly inappropriate language while brazenly questioning Ministry-approved curriculum."
"I see," Dumbledore said mildly.
"I demand they be punished." She stepped up to the desk. "Mr. Potter will serve detention with me every evening this week. I have... specific methods for dealing with habitual liars."
She paused, her mouth tightening as she glanced at Victor.
She wanted to drag him into her office too — but she couldn't. Victor was a Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy practically funded half the Ministry and kept Cornelius Fudge in his pocket.
If she tried to use a blood quill on the heir of Britain's most influential pureblood family, she'd be stripped of her position and rotting in Azkaban before breakfast.
"As for Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge said stiffly, "I expect you to discipline him. The Ministry expects the Headmaster to keep his students in line."
Victor scoffed quietly. He knew exactly why she backed down. Harry was a Ministry pariah. Victor was a political landmine.
"I understand, Dolores," Dumbledore said smoothly. "I will handle Mr. Malfoy's discipline. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."
Umbridge glared and gave a curt nod. "See that you do. Mr. Potter, my office, five o'clock." She spun on her heel and marched out, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.
The office fell silent save for the ticking of silver instruments and the soft trill of Fawkes. Dumbledore sighed, removing his half-moon spectacles to rub the bridge of his nose. He kept his gaze deliberately fixed on his desk.
"Victor," Dumbledore said gently. "Why make such a public scene on the very first day?"
Victor stepped closer to the massive oak desk, unapologetic. "I told the truth. There is a war coming. Everyone in this castle needs to be ready, and that woman wants us completely helpless."
Harry nodded firmly. "He's right! She's trying to convince everyone Voldemort isn't back, and we aren't even allowed to cast a shield charm!"
"I am aware of her motives," Dumbledore said quietly.
"Cornelius Fudge believes I am building a private army. He sent her to ensure you remain unarmed."
"But open rebellion in her classroom only gives her the ammunition she needs to tighten her grip on Hogwarts."
"Until the Ministry is forced to accept Voldemort's return, our hands are tied. We must simply bear Professor Umbridge."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Dumbledore raised a hand. He finally looked up, bypassing Harry completely to look straight at Victor.
"I must ask you to restrain yourself. Do not give her an excuse. Do not do anything that warrants a formal Ministry investigation."
Victor processed the specific phrasing. Dumbledore hadn't told him to follow the rules. He just told him to avoid an official inquiry.
"Understood. So as long as it stays strictly under the radar and doesn't trigger an investigation, it's fine."
Dumbledore didn't confirm or deny it. He just smiled.
"Harry, you may leave," Dumbledore said quietly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I have something else to discuss with Victor."
Harry frowned, clearly confused, but didn't argue. He gave Victor one last lingering look before walking out, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him.
Once they were alone, Dumbledore opened a small enchanted drawer in his desk, retrieved a small cracked black jewel — the Resurrection Stone — and slid it carefully across the polished wood.
"Well, Victor. Thank you," Dumbledore said softly, a genuine note of gratitude cutting through his weariness.
Victor pocketed the stone without hesitation. "Don't mention it, Professor. Have you found Voldemort yet?"
"No. He is remaining entirely in the shadows, quietly gathering his forces."
"Voldemort is smart — he plans to amass his full power and secure his followers before making any public appearance. However, since your family has abruptly cut ties with him, I believe it is best we arrange some safety for your family."
"I know him," Victor said flatly, his eyes turning cold. "He isn't the type to let a betrayal like that go."
"Indeed. Which is why the Order can offer—"
"I already took care of it." Victor waved a hand dismissively. "My family's estate is completely hidden under a Fidelius Charm. No one can find it. As for my father, I already had a long talk with him, like a dutiful son."
He let out a dry, cynical laugh.
"My father was still on the fence, hoping to play both sides, so I spelled it out for him."
"I told him that if he tries to reach out to Voldemort now, Voldemort will kill him on sight."
"I explained exactly how much the Dark Lord despises me, and how that hatred automatically extends to the rest of the Malfoy name. I looked him in the eye and told him, 'If you want to die, go ahead and meet him.'"
"Which made my father give up his old loyalties real quick."
*****
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