Sweet Revenge

Der Process

One fine morning, Dumbledore received a missive from a nice owl. 

Upon touching the seal, he was immediately Portkeyed to...the massive Wizengamot trial room? In front of him, the rows of Wizengamot members peered down at him. He gave a friendly wave to Elphias Dodge who, weirdly, avoided his gaze and stared down at his lap with pursed lips. 

At the podium, Lucius Malfoy stood, examining his nails. To his right sat Griselda Marshbanks, who peered down at Dumbledore. Beside her sat Tiberius Odgen, an old classmate of Dumbledore's. He held in his trembling hand a tiny crumpled piece of paper. 

          "Lucius, my dear boy!" Dumbledore started, "How have you been?"

          "Dear me, Dumbledore, I'm afraid it is no time for jokes," Marshbanks cried, "You are---"

          "Dumbledore, you are about to be told some rather dour news," Lucius cut in, shaking his head condescendingly. "Your title has--very regrettably--been removed."

          "Malfoy! You've got to make it more clear than that!" Marshbanks berated. "Dumbledore, you've been stripped of your position as Head of the Wizengamot. As a temporary replacement, we have voted in a renowned scholar from Albania--vouched for by our very own Lucius Malfoy."

A man with dark hair on Lucius's left waved down at Dumbledore. 

          "I'm sorry? I don't believe I've ever seen him before, Griselda. And--replace me? Why in Merlin would you do that?" Dumbledore continued pleasantly. 

The man looked affronted at having been dismissed so easily. 

          "Sorry, but have any of you got any chocolates?" asked a voice in the upper corner of the Wizengamot. It belonged to a feeble-looking man who Dumbledore also did not remember every seeing. 

          "No, Crabbe, I MEAN, No...Skender. This is a professional area," Lucius interrupted loudly. Then, noting the silence, looked at the new Chief Warlock for help. "My L-I'M SORRY! Chief Warlock, it's...it's..."

            "Lucius," the man muttered, pinching his nose. "I apologize for Lucius. He's my...cousin. He's been very stressed lately."

It was very awkward in the trial room. The Wizengamot members looked around at the plain ceiling or at their shoes. Some of them coughed and then blushed then they realized they were the only ones who had coughed. 

             "Right. Well. We've made it quite clear to you, I think, Dumbledore. You are not to come back to the Wizengamot. You may take him away, Rowle!" Marshbanks commanded. 

Thorfinn Rowle had come up behind Dumbledore and pressed a Portkey into his hand, which transported him back to his office. The last he glimpsed of the trial room was that the newcomer was pinching Lucius Malfoy's ear, and Malfoy was yowling. 

It was so unreal and sudden. Perhaps it had all been a dream. Dumbledore hadn't had any time to process any of it, but if it had been a dream, there was no need to worry, no? He picked up a lemon drop. 

From outside came the flapping of wings, and another owl flew through the window of Dumbledore's office and alighted on the desk, wiggling a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet in front of Dumbledore. He gave the owl a little bite to eat and then leaned back in his chair, unrolling the Prophet. His mouth fell open, and he fainted in shock, tipping out of the chair and onto the floor in the process.

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As the students trickled into the Great Hall, Harry unrolled Draco's Daily Prophet delivery and was pleased to see the headline: