The stunned silence that followed Hadrian's words clung to the air like an enchantment — unspoken, heavy, reverent.
Students whispered softly to each other.
The professors exchanged glances, some in awe, others visibly shaken.
Then—
A shrill, saccharine voice cut through the tension like a rusty knife through silk.
"A-hem!"
All eyes turned as Dolores Umbridge rose stiffly from her seat at the staff table, the frills on her nauseatingly pink cardigan puffing slightly as she squared her shoulders. A pinched smile stretched across her toad-like features, but her eyes glittered with sharp disdain.
"Such… dramatic storytelling," she began, with a high-pitched chuckle that did little to hide the venom in her tone. "Very inspiring, I'm sure. But let us not be swept away by ghost stories and fairy tales, yes?"
The entire hall stiffened.
"A 'First Professor'? 'Guardian of Hogwarts'?" she scoffed, turning to the teachers and then to the students, her voice raising slightly with faux-sweetness. "Let us not forget that Hogwarts is a Ministry-sanctioned institution. And no unauthorized individual, no matter how ancient he claims to be, has the right to waltz in here, bypassing all security, and assume control!"
She paused, her beady eyes locking onto Hadrian like a predator trying to size up something far larger than it realized.
"You may have the ghosts wrapped around your finger, and a pet phoenix perched like some dramatic accessory, but the Ministry will not tolerate deception or threats. If this is some… staged charade meant to undermine the authority of the Headmaster and the Ministry—"
A sharp, sudden crack of energy shimmered across the high arches of the ceiling.
The air itself shifted.
And for the first time, Dumbledore's expression — previously calm, distant — changed.
His hand twitched toward his wand.
His eyes snapped upward.
Then to the four great hourglasses of the Houses.
Then to the floating candles.
And then… slowly… to the throne-like seat at the far end of the hall — the seat once enchanted to pulse with the Headmaster's ward control.
It was dormant.
The connection... severed.
His blue eyes widened.
"The Wards," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "They've shifted..."
His voice held no accusation.
Only awe.
Hadrian slowly turned to meet his gaze.
There was no pride in his stance, no arrogance — only inevitability.
"They returned to me, Albus," Hadrian said simply. "As they always have… when the time comes."
Umbridge opened her mouth again—
But before she could spew more bureaucratic bile, the very walls of the Great Hall gave a low, resonant hum — the same hum the MC had felt earlier when stepping into the castle.
It rolled through the stone like the beating of a massive heart.
The castle had chosen.
And it was not her.
Not the Ministry.
Not even Dumbledore.
Umbridge's eyes darted to Dumbledore — who was still silent — then back to Hadrian, her voice rising in panic and fury.
"You have no right! This is outrageous! This entire farce — all of it — is nothing more than an illegal usurpation of Ministry authority! I will have you arrested! I will have the entire Board informed—!"
She stomped one stubby foot forward, her frilly cardigan bouncing with indignation.
"Hogwarts belongs to the Ministry! You—"
"It does not."
The words were calm.
Powerful.
Undeniable.
They did not come from the ghostly Grey Lady.
Nor Dumbledore.
Nor even Hadrian.
They came from the hat.
The Sorting Hat, still resting on its pedestal, stirred for the second time that evening. Its rip across the brim opened like a mouth, and it spoke with an ancient, solemn cadence:
"This woman... Dolores Jane Umbridge... entered these halls not as a teacher, but as a spy for the Ministry. Her appointment bypassed the approval of both the current Headmaster and the castle itself. She speaks of control — but it is not hers to claim."
Gasps rippled across the Great Hall.
The teachers stared wide-eyed.
Even Snape, whose usual mask of detachment never cracked, furrowed his brow in surprise.
"She serves two masters," the hat continued, louder now, its voice echoing off stone. "A servant of the Ministry while posing as a teacher within these walls. Such duplicity is not permitted by the founding charter of Hogwarts."
All eyes turned to Hadrian, who remained still as stone.
His voice, when it came, was low but carried unmistakable authority.
"Then by the Charter of the Founders, she is in violation."
He looked directly at Umbridge now, his gaze calm… but final.
"You will not be permitted to hold any position within this school while simultaneously serving an external organization. Especially one that seeks to manipulate the purpose of this sanctuary."
Whispers erupted like wildfire among the students.
McGonagall pressed a hand to her chest.
Flitwick looked as if he might faint from shock.
"You… you can't fire me!" Umbridge screeched, her face reddening as she stumbled backward. "You have no authority! No authority at all! This is a conspiracy! Dumbledore, tell him! Tell them!"
Hadrian remained still. The Sorting Hat's brim narrowed.
"She carries blood quills," it said suddenly, voice dropping cold and grim. "Dark tools forged through ancient pain-runes… hidden in her belongings. She intends to use them… on the students."
The Great Hall went deathly still.
The temperature dropped.
Gasps.
Disgusted murmurs.
A few younger students covered their mouths.
McGonagall stood so quickly her chair scraped against the stone.
"She what?" Snape said, his tone laced with pure venom.
"Dark magic meant to carve into flesh," the Hat intoned. "Used in interrogations. In punishment."
Hadrian's fingers twitched slightly, a faint pulse of ancient magic dancing along the runes beneath his skin.
His voice, when it came next, was no longer calm.
It was final.
"By ancient right… by blood sworn and magic bound… I command the castle: Remove her."
A sound like stone grinding against stone echoed through the hall.
The walls shimmered.
The floor rippled.
Before Umbridge could scream again, a pulse of blue-white energy burst up around her like a cage. She shrieked, flailing wildly as the very air rejected her presence.
"This is illegal! I WILL REPORT—AAAH!"
The floor beneath her seemed to dissolve as spectral chains wrapped around her ankles, yanking her off her feet and dragging her toward the front entrance.
Gasps and stares followed her as she thrashed, screeching, pink cardigan in tatters.
SLAM.
The great doors of the castle opened on their own.
And with a crack of magic and one final scream — Dolores Umbridge was flung out of the castle like a discarded insect.
The doors closed behind her with thunderous finality.
Silence.
Then… applause.
It started with Seamus.
Then Neville.
Then a slow, rising tide from the Gryffindor table.
Even some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in.
The professors remained stunned, silent, shaken.
Dumbledore looked at Hadrian not with challenge… but with quiet understanding.
"Well," whispered Flitwick. "He's back, alright."