Potter and the Ministry

I picked up the Daily Prophet.

MINISTRY INVESTIGATES UNDERAGE MAGIC: BOY WHO LIVED ON TRIAL

By Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent

Chaos erupted at the Ministry of Magic this week as Harry Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived, found himself at the center of a formal hearing for violating the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. According to Ministry reports, Potter, a mere fifteen-year-old Hogwarts student, allegedly conjured a fully formed Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area—an act strictly forbidden under wizarding law.

Eyewitnesses claim that the Patronus, taking the form of a stag, was produced in the presence of Potter's Muggle cousin, Dudley Dursley, in the town of Little Whinging. The Ministry, citing Section 13 of the International Statute of Secrecy, has raised concerns regarding the exposure of magic to Muggle society.

"Reckless and irresponsible behavior like this cannot be tolerated," stated Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic, in a press release. "The Ministry has a duty to uphold the secrecy and safety of our world. Rules exist for a reason."

However, sources close to Potter claim that the Patronus was cast in self-defense against a pair of rogue Dementors, dark creatures typically under the control of the Ministry. The claim has raised unsettling questions—why were Dementors lurking in a Muggle neighborhood in the first place? The Ministry, when questioned, denied any official deployment of the creatures.

Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster and longtime advocate for Potter, arrived at the hearing in his signature dramatic fashion, presenting evidence in favor of the boy's innocence. "Surely," Dumbledore was reported as saying, "no wizard, young or old, should be punished for defending himself against a real and present danger."

The trial, held before the full Wizengamot, became a spectacle as political tensions ran high. While Potter maintains that his actions were justified, the underlying implications of Dementors appearing beyond Azkaban's jurisdiction have left the wizarding community with more questions than answers.

Despite the prosecution's efforts, the final ruling was in Potter's favor, clearing him of all charges. However, this incident raises an alarming question—is the Ministry truly protecting its citizens, or is there something more sinister at play?

Stay tuned as The Daily Prophet continues to investigate the truth behind this peculiar case.

Kenny, who had been flipping through the pages of the Daily Prophet with an unimpressed look, finally tossed it aside and crossed her arms. "So let me get this straight—Harry Potter, the boy who literally saved everyone from Voldemort as a baby, is suddenly public enemy number one for casting a Patronus in self-defense?"

Blaise scoffed. "Sounds about right. The Ministry's been turning a blind eye to everything that doesn't fit their perfect little narrative."

Draco, who had been tapping his fingers on his knee, huffed. "It's not even about Potter anymore. It's about control. If the Ministry admits Voldemort's back, it means they have to actually do something about it. Instead, they'd rather make him out to be a lunatic."

I nodded. "Exactly. And now, instead of dealing with the truth, they're twisting it so it looks like Harry just... conjured a Patronus for fun in front of a Muggle. It's ridiculous."

Kenny sighed dramatically and leaned back against her seat. "So, what now? Is he going to Azkaban for saving his own skin?"

Draco let out a dry chuckle. "Knowing Fudge, he'd love that. But Dumbledore won't let it happen. He's not that much of a fool."

"Yet," Blaise muttered, shaking his head.

There was a brief silence between us, only interrupted by the distant chatter of students in other compartments. The weight of the situation sat heavy in the air, the implications of the Ministry's corruption sinking in.

"You should've seen my mother's reaction when she read the article," I said finally, breaking the silence. "She practically laughed. Said it was 'an impressive display of theatrics.'"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course she did. Our parents have a talent for downplaying things that could disrupt their perfect little world."

Kenny raised a brow. "Yours maybe, but mine just thinks the Ministry's made up of complete buffoons."

Blaise snorted. "For once, your mother might actually be right."

Just then, the train gave a slight lurch as it sped along the tracks, and I glanced out the window, watching the countryside blur past. No matter how much we joked or tried to downplay it, something had shifted in the world around us. The political games weren't just confined to our parents anymore.

And that was terrifying.

"So," Kenny sighed, stretching her arms above her head as if to shake off the heaviness in the air. "Are we officially dedicating this school year to surviving the Ministry's nonsense?"

Draco smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "If we don't, who will?"

Blaise chuckled. "Right. And here I was, hoping for an uneventful term."

I smiled slightly, though my mind was still racing. If Harry was really on trial for this, then things were only going to get worse.

And I had a feeling this was just the beginning.

I crossed my arms, my patience thinning as I glanced around the train corridor. This whole situation was beyond ridiculous. "This is ridiculous," I muttered, loud enough for only my friends to hear. "I overheard my father saying that there was indeed a witness. The Ministry didn't consider her words because she was a squib." My tone was laced with irritation.

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "So they're outright ignoring evidence now? Subtle."

Kenny scoffed. "What else is new? The Ministry's about as trustworthy as a Niffler in a jewelry store."

Draco, who had been lounging beside me with his arms crossed, gave a small smirk. "Well, well, Potter's in trouble again. Who would've guessed?" He straightened up, eyes gleaming with mischief as he caught sight of the Gryffindor trio walking towards us.

We couldn't let Potter know we were on his side. Oh, absolutely not. That would be social suicide.

So, naturally, Draco turned on the dramatics. "I'm surprised the Ministry is still letting you walk around free, Potter," he drawled, his smirk widening. "Better enjoy it while you can. I bet there's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it."

Harry's reaction was immediate. His face turned a shade of red that could rival a Weasley's hair, and before I could even blink, he had launched himself at Draco.

"What is wrong with you? You complete nutter!" Harry practically growled, shoving Draco back against the train wall.

I inhaled sharply, taking a step back as the tension exploded between them. Blaise, standing beside me, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused. Kenny threw up her hands in mock surrender.

Draco, though, remained entirely unbothered. In fact, he seemed positively delighted. "Ooh, Potter's losing it," he teased, barely flinching at the push. "Touched a nerve, have I?" His smirk deepened as he adjusted his tie. "Honestly, Potter, this kind of aggression won't look good in court."

"YOU STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Harry practically yelled, his breathing ragged.

Ron and Hermione had appeared now, Hermione immediately grabbing onto Harry's arm in an attempt to hold him back. "Harry, don't," she said firmly. "He's just trying to provoke you."

Draco tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Trying? Granger, it's like taking candy from a baby. Honestly, Potter, I expected better."

Harry clenched his jaw so hard I was worried his teeth might crack. He was shaking with frustration, nostrils flaring.

Kenny decided to add fuel to the fire, because of course she did. "I mean, Malfoy does have a point—shouldn't you be getting fitted for your Azkaban robes by now?"

Harry let out an exasperated noise that was somewhere between a groan and a yell, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You're all impossible!"

With that, he spun on his heel and stormed off down the corridor, Ron and Hermione rushing after him.

As soon as they disappeared, Draco let out a dramatic exhale and dusted off his robes as if Harry had personally contaminated them. "Merlin, the rage issues," he mused. "Should I be concerned?"

Blaise grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "You live for it."

Draco smirked. "I really do."

I shook my head with a sigh, though I couldn't fight back my own amusement. The school year was barely starting, and it was already complete chaos.

......................................................................

The Great Hall was buzzing as usual, candles floating in midair, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the stormy clouds outside. As we slid into our usual spots at the Slytherin table, I noticed that the entire school atmosphere felt... off.

The usual excitement of the Sorting Ceremony was dulled, conversations were quieter, and at the staff table, there was a new presence.

A nightmare in pastel pink.

The woman looked like she had been forcefully extracted from a teapot. Short, squat, a tight perm of curls, and worst of all—covered head to toe in nauseatingly bright pink. She sat with a simpering smile, her stubby fingers tapping against her goblet like she was internally judging everyone in the room.

"Who the hell is that?" Blaise muttered, tilting his head.

Kenny gagged dramatically. "That shade of pink should be illegal."

Draco, who had been eyeing the staff table with a deep scowl, whispered, "Dolores Umbridge. Ministry official."

I blinked. "Ministry? Why is she here?"

Before Draco could answer, Dumbledore stood, raising his hands for silence. The entire hall fell into an eerie hush.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts!" he said, twinkle-eyed as ever. "Before we begin our feast, I have a few start-of-term notices—"

He was cut off.

By a cough.

Not a polite one. Oh no. A very deliberate, passive-aggressive, let me make my presence known cough.

All heads turned to the Pink Menace.

Dumbledore, to his credit, merely smiled and stepped back, as if entirely unsurprised.

She stood, adjusting her horrible cardigan, and cleared her throat in a way that immediately made me want to throw my goblet at her.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for your most illuminating introduction," she simpered.

Draco audibly groaned under his breath.

"I want to die already," Kenny whispered.

"Shh," I snorted.

Umbridge continued. "As some of you may already be aware, the Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of paramount importance..."

And she went on.

And on.

And on.

Five minutes in, I realized I had started stabbing my mashed potatoes out of frustration.

Draco had slumped forward, his face buried in his hands. Blaise looked like he was trying not to fall asleep. Kenny was making dramatic choking gestures at me.

"Merlin's toenails," I muttered, whispering to Draco. "Is this a speech or a hostage situation?"

"Both," he muttered back.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Umbridge, meanwhile, continued her horrifyingly condescending speech about how "progress for progress's sake must be discouraged" and that "proper, Ministry-approved education will now be enforced at Hogwarts."

"Translation?" Kenny whispered.

"We're screwed," Blaise whispered back.

Draco stiffened beside me, his jaw clenching. His father worked closely with the Ministry—I knew that. But he didn't look happy about this.

Finally—FINALLY—she sat down, and the feast began.

As we left the Great Hall, the entire school was buzzing about Umbridge's speech.

"This is bad," I heard Potter mutter furiously to Weasley and Granger. "The Ministry's interfering directly now. They don't want us learning proper Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Draco, of course, couldn't let that slide.

He leaned casually against the entrance pillar, smirking. "I, for one, am delighted to finally have some real discipline in this school."

Potter's eye twitched. "Oh, shove off, Malfoy."

"What's wrong, Potter?" Draco sighed dramatically. "Afraid your illegal little club meetings are over before they even began?"

Potter froze.

Draco's smirk widened. "Ah. So I was right. Interesting."

Potter was this close to attacking him, but Weasley physically held him back.

"Not worth it, mate. He's just a—"

"A what, Weasley?" Draco cooed. "A Prefect?" He flashed the silver badge pinned neatly to his robes.

Potter turned an even deeper shade of red.

Kenny, Blaise, and I exchanged grins.

Draco was thriving.

The year had barely begun, and chaos was already brewing.

And oh, we were so ready.

I'd like to call this -The Tyranny of Prefect Malfoy (and My Attempts at Damage Control)

Walking the first years to the dungeons should have been an easy task. Should have been.

Draco Malfoy, in all his newly appointed Prefect glory, had apparently decided that his personal mission was to traumatize as many eleven-year-olds as possible.

"Alright, you lot," he drawled as the tiny first years clustered around us, their faces filled with a mixture of fear and awe. "Welcome to Slytherin. If you're here, it means you're better than most of this lot already. But—" he narrowed his eyes, taking an ominous step forward, "—if you step out of line, I will know, and I will make your life a living hell."

A small first-year girl looked like she was about to cry.

"Draco," I hissed, elbowing him. "Ease up."

"What?" He looked at me with genuine confusion. "I'm just setting the tone."

"The tone shouldn't involve verbal terrorism," I deadpanned.

Meanwhile, Kenny was pretending to jot down notes on a fake clipboard. "Alright, so, Malfoy's Guide to Psychological Warfare. Step one: Make them fear you."

Blaise snickered. "Step two: Ensure at least one of them has nightmares for a week."

Oh and did I mention? They were prefects too. (A/N: I don't exactly remember how many prefects each house had so please don't come at me)

Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, this is nothing compared to what my father told me when I was eleven."

I raised a brow. "Let me guess—something about honor, blood superiority, and how breathing the same air as a Weasley is a crime against humanity?"

Draco smirked. "He didn't say that last part outright, but it was heavily implied."

At this point, the first years just looked confused.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Okay, ignore whatever Malfoy just said. You're Slytherins. That means you're ambitious, resourceful, and intelligent. Not cruel." I shot a very pointed look at Draco.

"Speak for yourself," he muttered.

I ignored him. "We look out for our own, and that includes all of you. If you need help, find a prefect. If you have a problem, bring it to us. And for the love of Merlin, do not attempt to one-up the Gryffindors in reckless behavior. We have standards."

Draco snorted. "Unless you win. Then it's fine."

"Draco!"

"What?!"

The first years looked like they had no idea what they had just walked into.

"Alright," Blaise clapped his hands together. "That's enough emotional scarring for one night. Let's get them to the dorms before one of them pees themselves."

And with that, we led the shell-shocked first years deeper into the dungeons—where their new life in Slytherin was about to begin.