HP: A Magical Journey-Novel

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" "Cheers!" "

Diamond mugs splashing with golden liquid topped off with white frothy foam clinked against each other in the pub buzzing with a Quidditch game sounding out from a radio with speakers cabling to every corner of the establishment, but louder than that were people boisterous with laughter, bursting with loud conversation while they sipped on simpler drinks like tapped beers and straight whiskeys or blew smoke from their flimsy rolls or chewed-on pipes.

"You did great out there," said James Potter, raising his glass to his best friend, "putting up with Spindlewheel — that man tried to put Dumbledore into the bind."

"Aye, I don't like that slimy snake, always saving those shits from Azkaban, but he sure did well with Umbridge as his client," Sirius Black took a swig of his beverage. Today had been a good day for him — he had put Umbridge behind bars, got to see her crumble, and then got praised by literally everyone he came across.

"I think Owler went easy on Umbridge," said James, popping a fritter into his mouth, "thirty years is less for a repugnant woman like her — she should've gone behind bars for at least forty years, especially know when the jailors have changed to actual people."

The island fortress had been rebuilt and now was under the direct jurisdiction of the newest divisional addition to DMLE — Division of Azkaban Warden Administration.

"It's over; Owler gave her what he thought she deserved," said Sirius, "unlike us, he doesn't know what a bitch she truly is. Him ordering her thirty was the best we could get without pulling out everything else she might have done. Boss wanted this to be done quickly; there's no point thinking about it now."

"Well," said James, stretching the well out, "we can, if you'd like, go digging around for her other misdemeanor — now that she's not going to be around, I'm sure many would be much more motivated to come forward. If we put it together right and are able to get her further convicted, we could make her serve the new sentence consecutively."

Sirius peered at James with his mug raised to his lips. James noticed the look and asked, "What?"

"Did you write to him yet?"

James, who was about to drink, slowly put his mug down and sighed, "I did. He. . . he didn't write much back, what he did write was all deflection. I wrote to him back again, and then again, all I got was anything but why he didn't tell us anything."

"What did he say to Lily? She talked to him, right?"

"She did. Harry did talk to her. . . somewhat — said that it wasn't anything to worry about, that it was all part of the plan, and they couldn't tell anyone because it could've ruined it. But Lily told me that he was clearly avoiding the talk and ran out right after she breached the topic."

"Don't worry about it, mate. He's just at that age. You know how it was — kids want to feel like adults, friends start taking a front row, parents get annoying, and all that jazz. He'll come around."

"Easy for you to say," James chugged his mug down. "You're the fun uncle who he doesn't have to worry about nagging him. I'm the one who needs to discipline him when he does something stupid with you."

Sirius laughed, "There's got to be some upside to being a godfather. I'm having all the fun I can before you die in a ditch, and I take your place."

"You had too much to drink."

Sirius leaned back into his chair of their corner table. "But boy, that West kid really pulled something off, didn't he? Umbridge was nigh-untouchable under Fudge, one kid and a camera, she's shipped off to Azkaban."

"He kept staring back at her."

Sirius looked at his friend, who was staring up at the ceiling. "What do you mean?" he asked; he blinked a couple times to keep focus.

"In the reels. . . Quinn, he kept staring at her the entire time. You didn't watch the part, but the kid kept staring at Umbridge while writing the lines in his blood. It scared her, I could tell, hell, I was a bit nervous. That kid wrote the most of all, never stopped for a second, probably lost as much blood that the others lost in two days. You're right; that kid's something else. He never looked at the camera once the entire time he was in the room. Harry did look though, a couple times, amateur move."

James removed his eyes from the ceiling, brought them down to Sirus, and was surprised to see him leaning over the table, arms crossed with his head resting on them.

"Told you, didn't I? You had a lot to drink," said James, smiling. He slowly got up while shifting his body back and forth, trying to find the balance. "Oh boy," James shook his head, trying to see if it would help shake some booze off, it didn't, so he sat back down, "I wonder if Remus went to bed."

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- (Scene Break) -

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In an immaculate room with appealing victorian decor, comfortable sofas and chairs to lounge on, and a stocked bar with liquors of choice — everything from butterbeer to gin was available for drinking, waiting to be poured. A soft melody, calm and elegant, sounded in the background, filling the room's ambiance just as the painting set in grand frames did on the walls.

Three men sat around a table with alcohol and platters with assortments of cheese and bread between them. They were Jacob Greengrass, Lodewicus Fawley, and Aashir Shafiq — the three heads of their respective families and members of the Grey Coalition or, as it was popularly known, The Grey Faction.

"Umbridge is out of the picture," said Shafiq; the ice clinked as he placed it on the coaster on the table, "without her, Fudge is going to be trouble."

Dolores Umbridge, for all her faults, was Fudge's strongest asset. She was the hammer and chain that held Fudge's office together with vicious ruthlessness; without her, Fudge would've been split between his patrons a long time ago. Umbridge was why Fudge was able to spread his control into the various departments, which were usually divided into pockets of the powerful noble families.

"Fudge abandoned her right after the trial," said Fawley. "Do you think he knew about what she was doing in Hogwarts?"

"If we were to believe what Umbridge said at the end, Fudge knew what was happening," said Shafiq. All of them were present in the courtroom as part of the Wizengamot Jury.

"It doesn't matter if he knew or not," said Jacob Greengrass. He tapped at the newspaper sitting in the center of the table. It was a rush evening issue of the Daily Prophet with the Dolores Umbridge Trial stamped out on the front page, the courtesy of the exclusive story-breaking journalist, the best in the business, Rita Skeeter.

"Fudge denied any knowledge of the happening, and Umbridge was made the scapegoat," he said. "The real question is what's going to happen now. The elections are next year, and it doesn't look like Fudge is going to have another term."

"Which isn't good for us," sighed Shafiq.

The other two nodded. Fudge's era had been good for them; when the leader was so receptive to external incentives, it made everyone down the power chain also similarly "open-minded" and "open-pocketed."

"If Fudge goes out, then it's Amelia Bones who's going to go up next," said Fawley and sighed. "There's literally no one to stand against her. If she doesn't make any grievous errors, then she's practically a shoo-in for the job."

And all knew that Amelia Bones wasn't one to make potential career-ending mistakes.

"The Head of DMLE moving to Minister," said Jacob, and the other two nodded, knowing what kind of change that would bring. Amelia Bones had been brought up in DMLE — she hadn't worked in any other department other than the one responsible for justice and order.

"We have to move quickly before she gets elected and brings her DMLE flavor to the entire Ministry," said Fawley.

"Should we support Fudge a bit to make sure he doesn't end up getting ousted by a vote of no confidence?" asked Shafiq while he poured himself another pour of whiskey.

Jacob immediately rejected the course of action. "No, that wouldn't be wise. George West wants Fudge out of the Ministry after his term permanently. If we provide Fudge with support, he might end up staying in the Ministry afterward, and that might displease George."

"George West showing interest in politics, that's rare," said Fawley, cutting himself a cheese.

"His grandson was part of the trial," said Jacob. "George West doesn't like himself or his family be part of the politics or be in the public spotlight. He isn't happy that his grandson was pushed into making decisions that put him into the public limelight."

The more powerful and influential a family got, the more they started to retreat out from the public eye. The Wests hadn't been in the public eye for a very long time, and George West was adamant about continuing that status.

Jacob raised his glass to his partners, "To a bright future and a new era."

Fawley and Shafiq raised their glasses and said: " "To a new era." "

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Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, sat in his room in a building situated in an unknown location. His bony fingers held the exclusive evening issue of Daily Prophets, reading through the pages that only covered a single story.

"It seems my curse is still at work," said Voldemort, his lipless mouth curling up into a thin smile.

"Master. . ."

Voldemort turned to his long-haired, silver-tongued follower, "Speak Lucius, what is on your mind?"

"What should we do about Cornelius?" asked Lucius. He has been part of the Wizengamot Jury, but his support couldn't keep Umbridge from being burned on the stake.

Voldemort rapped his digits on the armrest of his chair as he stared into the flames burning in the fireplace. "Keep him in the chair. As long as you can keep Cornelius Fudge in power, do it. Don't let him fall off before the end of his term."

"What about when his term ends?"

"Amelia Bones, was it? The next-in-line," asked Voldemort, and Lucius nodded. "Bones. . . Bones. . . Bones. . ah, yes, I remember, The House of Bones. . . if I remember correctly, only two were left alive."

"Yes, master. Amelia Bones and his niece, Susan Bones. The niece is the same age as my son."

"Head of DMLE, is she? We can't have her taking power in the Ministry. It'd be a nuisance when we come to power. Tell me, Lucius, would Amelia Bones be open to some persuasion?"

"I don't think so, master. Amelia Bones is as hard as one comes."

"I see, what a pity. Then she needs to go."

"Then. . ."

"Not now, Lucius, not now. Is there any progress on getting the Prophecy, Lucius?" Voldemort asked at the end.

"Unfortunately, master, we haven't been able to retrieve it. Rockwood tried to apply his knowledge, but nothing much came out of it."

Augustus Rockwood, one of the ten Death Eaters who had recently been broken out of Azkaban, was an Unspeakable during the war, but because of Igor Karkaroff blowing the whistle on him, he had been sent to Azkaban by Barty Crouch Sr.

"So even Rockwood wasn't able to get through," Voldemort looked down on his lap as his beloved Nagini slithered into his lap. His hand went to her, feeling her sturdy scales; they gave him the sense of safety.

"It seems we would need to do something different," Voldemort turned his face to the other side and spoke to his other follower in the room. "Wormtail, how's your little friend doing? Is he feeling any better now?"

Peter Pettigrew, who stood in a darker corner of the room, spoke, "He's feeling better, master. Dementors don't suit him, it seems. It's taking him a bit longer to recover. He's not the sturdiest of individuals."

"Get his health back up, Wormtail. It's time for him to pay for his freedom."

"What do you wish from him, master?" asked Peter.

"It's time for the leader of lus Accionites to return," said Voldemort, his dull eyes reflecting the flames of the fireplace. "There's a need for a demonstration, a spectacular demonstration."

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"Alright, people! It's a momentous day," Eddie said, facing a crowd made up of forty DA members and people who had been part of Umbridge's twenty-nine. "We have gathered here to celebrate Umbitch's death, the fall of her tyranny, and the revival of what she took away from us."

"She isn't dead," said Marcus from the crowd.

"Bah! Semantics!" Eddie waved him off; Marcus shook his head with a smile. "Yesterday, Umbridge got her judgment, and we got out justice. Now it's time to return everything respectable to Hogwarts by reverting the damage, and today, we start with her worst decision." He raised his arm, pointing towards the head of the crowd, "I ask Quinn West, the Toad Hunter, to step forward. Rest, give him a round of applause!"

Amidst the wave of clapping, shouts, and calls of his name, Quinn walked out from the crowd and stood by Eddie, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"This man has time and time again stood against Umbridge, being the beacon of hope in the tough times, and in the end, he's the one who put her away for good, and today, we are going to reward him by," he stepped aside and raised both his hands to point at a door barred with wood planks, "reopening AID and returning our beloved help club—"

"Consultation service," said Quinn.

"— help club! When AID closed, it was a sad moment for everyone, and today we open it back and return joy to Hogwarts," Eddie slipped his hand behind his back, underneath his outer robe, and to everyone's surprise and shock, took out a big worn down black crowbar.

He pushed it into Quinn's hands, who instinctively grabbed it. Quinn looked at the crowbar with his brows raised, then up at Eddie. "Where did you get this? And. . . why?" he asked, his hands not knowing what to do with the tool.

Eddie shrugged, "Swiped it from Filch's room. Don't worry, I'm just borrowing. I'll return it," he gave him a thumbs-up with a lazy smile. "Now, take that and get your office back."

Quinn felt the weight of the crowbar in both his hands as he spun it along its length. He looked at the planks nailed to the door frame, raised the crowbar above his shoulder, and droved the sharp edge into the wood with the crowd erupting in cheers. Quinn then unceremoniously took out his fake wand, and with one wave, all planks came ripping out from the door frame, nails and all.

Quinn nodded with his lower lip jutting out. He turned to the crowd looking at him with wide eyes, leaning away, their raised hands in protection as their eyes darted between the planks on the floor and him.

"You didn't think I would take out all of them one by one, did you?" he asked. He tossed the crowbar to Eddie, who fumbled to catch it.

"There's something known as a warning!" said Ivy, her hand clutching Hermione's arm.

Quinn grinned as he turned back to the door, took out the spare key — the original still laid with Filich, but it didn't matter as Quinn was going to change the lock. He opened the door with people peeking over his shoulder and gasped as the room came into view.

"W-What happened to your office?" asked Tracey, her hand touching her throat as she looked at the black that encompassed the entire office.

"Hmm? Oh! Ah, the funeral — I mean, it was just something I did," said Quinn and raised his wand, and color started to return to the room like a breath of life.

Quinn stepped into the office, taking place after the longest he had been away from it during a school year. He turned towards the crowd and looked at the other person who was feeling as joyous as he was right now. He stepped to a side, leaving space at the door, and she glided right beside him, instantly recognizing what he meant.

"It seems we are back in business," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulder.

Luna nodded, "I left my favorite scarf in the workshop. I can get it back now." She immediately ran inside the office, heading to get her scarf back.

Quinn chuckled and turned towards the crowd, clasped his hands in the front, and smiled, "Now that we are open again, I announce a special discount for the reopening. So, who's up for buying some notes," he wiggled his brows, "fifth-years? You didn't forget about the OWLs, right?"

The groans across the board were more melodious to his ears than the jingle of coin that followed immediately after.

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Quinn West - MC - "I couldn't have done it alone."

James Potter - Father - Confused concerning his teenage son.

Sirius Black - Godfather - Zzz. . .

Jacob Greengrass - Grey Faction Bigshot - Flowing with the tides.

Voldemort - Dark Lord - Has a plan in mind.

Lucius Malfoy - Death Eater - Time to cut Cornelius' allowance.

Peter Pettigrew - Death Eater - In-charge of his inductee.

Eddie Carmichael - Just borrowing - Hold "my" crowbar.

Luna Lovegood - AID employee - Her scarf got dusty.

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The link is in the synopsis!