NOVEL NEXT Chapter 5: Where is Lee Jordan when you need him?
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Chapter 4: The Question of Blood
The Wizengamot chamber was anything but a quiet place, as one Dolores Umbridge rose from her seat/
"Hem-Hem" She was given attention she did not quite deserve. "Esteemed members of the Wizengamot," she began, her voice, like the scraping of nails on parchment. "It is truly a delight to see our noble institution restored to its rightful order after the dark times we have endured. But as we turn the page on history, we must ask ourselves: what future are we building?"
"To say in the matter of young Teddy Lupin, a child whose... unique parentage raises serious concerns about the future of this esteemed body." She clasped her hands together, her saccharine (hard word) smile unwavering. "We must consider carefully what kind of precedent we set by allowing—" she paused for dramatic effect "—the offspring of dark creatures to inherit influence over our laws."
A low murmur ran through the chamber. Ron's unfocused and empty face was lit anew, all sadness that clouded lit up like fire in a blizzard. Neville Longbottom, seated near the front, clenched his jaw.
"The Dark Lord's reign was a tragedy," Umbridge continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "But it was also a lesson. The end of the dark lord's reign should mark the end of dark influence on the ministry. We must not let the taint of darkness seep into our noble and sacred institutions again. Werewolves, vampires, half-breeds... they have their place, but it is not among those who govern. It is upstanding men—men of dignity, such as Lords Weasley, Malfoy, Longbottom, Lestrange—who should guide our future."
There was silence, and Neville found himself baffled. No reaction. No protest, most lords found them resonating with this absurd notion.
He looked to his grandmother, and was hopeful, relieved even to find some reluctance in his grandmother, for the first time, Neville found himself to be relieved that he did not have to shed disappointment on his grandmother, his family. The irony was not lost on him.
"I move," Umbridge continued, "that the lineage of one Theodore Lupin was it? be examined and deemed unsuitable for any claim to influence within our society. Let us not make the mistake of allowing dangerous bloodlines to mingle with our governance. We owe it to future generations to uphold purity, tradition, and order."
"It is not punishment, dear lady. It is protection. For all of us."
Neville almost stood to counter the women, but he could not-as his chance to retaliate was taken,
A shoe broke through the air and struck Umbridge squarely in the nose. *thack*
A sickening crunch echoed in the chamber, and silence followed.
All eyes turned to Neville—he was the only one still standing. But as the murmurs began, they all saw the actual culprit.
Ron had ran up to Dolores.
Before anyone could react, Ron's fist crashed into Umbridge's face. She stumbled back, hands clutching at her nose, her pink robes now stained crimson. A strangled gasp left her lips.
Shouts erupted across the chamber.
"Order! Order!"
Neville rushed forward, heart pounding, and collected all of Ron by the arm. He didn't, every part of him knew Umbridge deserved worse. But the consequences—he had to think of the consequences.
"Ron," he muttered under his breath, pulling him away.
Ron's body was rigid with anger, and he resisted with all his might. His chest heaved, and his glare never left Umbridge.
"Should have left the bitch with the centaurs," he spat. "They would've straightened her cunt out, you—"
Aurors rushed forward, but then… they hesitated.
Umbridge lay crumpled on the floor, blood trickling from her nose, whimpering. The Aurors lifted her, and pulled her to the mediwitches in the chambers, but none moved toward Ron.
None wanted to.
A war hero. The man who had stood against Voldemort's reign. The man who had lost his brother in the war. Gratitude and mostly reverence held their hands back, their gazes shifting toward the Minister, awaiting orders.
The hall erupted in an uproar.
Some voices roared about Ron's blatant disrespect—toward the Minister, the Ministry toward them, the Lords of the Wizengamot, toward the sanctity of the chamber shocked, whispering about the absurdity of it all.
Beside the Minister, Minerva McGonagall's sad face tugged a small smile, pressed her lips together, eyes twinkling with amusement. [A/N where is Lee Jordan when you need him]
Kingsley Shacklebolt turned his stern gaze to her, lifted his wand.
"Order! Order in these halls!"
The crowd quieted, though murmurs remained.
McGonagall's expression hardened as she turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, Your disagreement is noted, but you will use words, not fists. This is the only warning you will receive. If such violence occurs again within these walls, you will be removed immediately."- a slap on the wrist in every sense.
Ron said nothing.
The Aurors did not move.
Kingsley exhaled, rubbing his temple, before stepping forward. "No one shall have such unrestrained violence in this Ministry." His dark eyes locked onto Ron's. "This is my first and last warning, Mr. Weasley. We are all civilized men here. We shall talk like civilized men."
"Then listen to me and my civilized voice, my nephew is part metamorphous, part werewolf, and part whatever he wants to be, if anyone finds anything funny, I promise they will have a face that even their mother will find most hateful."
Kingsley: "Is that a threat Mr Weasley? This is a peaceful institution, you are for the last time requested to keep your tempers in check. There is a limit that must not be crossed, we are here for a peaceful transition, a future to look forward to, and your violence-"
Ron: "Then why is Draco and his "more innocent than Dumbledore" father here? Why are known Death Eaters in this whitewashed ministry?"
"The Malfoys were of great help in the final battle. Your own life was saved by Draco, if you remember."
Ron: "One right doesn't wash the shit on the shoe. You can bring Snape in and glorify his oh-so-pure sacrifice in any way, but he will always live as a bully, jealous git in my memories, I will still celebrate his death every year the same as I will celebrate my own birthday."
Minerva scowled "Mr Weasley!"
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