Mobilization of the camp of light

At the beginning of July, everything was calm in the office of the illustrious Professor Dumbledore. The room was bathed in a magnificent summer sun that reflected on the many bronze instruments scattered here and there.

The only sound that could be heard was a sporadic snoring coming from one of the portraits of former directors.

When Dumbledore appeared in the middle of this landscape, he remained paralyzed for several minutes. The contrast between the chaos charged with dark magic he had just left and the calm tinged with the gentle magic of Hogwarts was so violent that it left him stunned. Then, he remembered the emotional mountains he had just experienced and felt the weight of the years descend upon his shoulders. Alas, it was not yet time for him to take a well-deserved rest. He pulled himself together and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Office of Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

He tried to cross the hearth but was blocked by an invisible wall. Albus took it in stride and waited. After what seemed like an infinitely long time, a head appeared in the middle of the fire and spoke in a dull voice:

Mr. Cornelius Fudge is in a meeting. In case of emergency, please leave a message with the Secretary of State's office of (…).

But Albus cut him off.

I don't have time for this. I need to urgently speak to Cornelius. Let me through.

You could be Albus Dumbledore himself and it wouldn't exempt you from following procedures. So, in case of emergency, please leave a message with the Secretary of State's office headed by Dolores Umbridge.

But I am Albus Dumbledore!

But of course, as if that had never been done to me before. I was his student, you know, and you don't look like him at all. He is much less old. Replied the official.

Albus took a long breath. Getting angry would only slow him down. More than ever he had to remain in control of himself, he thought before resuming almost jovially:

Yes, I remember you, Jensen. And even back then, you weren't very good at recognizing faces. I was one of the few who believed you when you told Britney that you had mistaken her for her sister at that party organized by Slugorn.

It wasn't my fault, they looked like two peas in a pod.

Albus refrained from saying that Britney's sister was bald and continued:

Mysterious forces were at work that evening. Perhaps you were destined to marry Jordane. I immediately knew you would end up together when I introduced you to him at the ministry's New Year's ball. Come on, in memory of this old man who allowed you to meet the love of your life, make an exception and let me through.

We divorced 10 years ago and she has custody of the kids. The office of the Secretary of State of the Minister is open from Monday to Saturday from 9 am to 8 pm.

Then the employee violently cut off the communication before Albus could add anything. He tried to contact him again, but he flatly refused the magical connection.

Without wasting time, he took another pinch of Floo powder and shouted:

Ministry of Magic, office of Gwendoline Burbage.

He didn't even try to contact Umbridge directly. Albus knew that old toad never left her fireplace open, in order to impose a wait on her visitors proportional to her relationship with the petitioner (and his relations with Umbridge were colder than the ice cap). Usually, Albus was understanding of this kind of pettiness from ministry officials, thinking it was a rather harmless way to assert their authority over visitors. Especially when, like Umbridge, they had spent their careers seeing their legitimacy questioned because they didn't have the right gender or a sufficiently prestigious family. But today, he definitely didn't have time for such nonsense. He stuck his head into the unprotected fireplace.

Albus. But what are you doing here? Gwendoline exclaimed, raising her head from the multitude of urgent-stamped files covering her desk.

An emergency. I need to speak to the ministry right away. Go fetch Umbridge immediately.

Yes well, we only have emergencies here, so you'll wait like everyone else. No, but that's the limit. You show up like this unannounced and Gwendoline would have to bend over backward to solve your little problems? Well, you know what, Gwendoline is tired of being treated like a maid by everyone. I have my emergencies too. She blurted before Dumbledore could get a word in.

Then with a backhand, she sent the files scattered on her desk flying, triggering a paper storm before taking out a fashion magazine and leafing through it calmly.

Albus said cautiously:

I understand that you have your problems, but I must insist...

I'm on a break, can't you see?

Voldemort is back and I need to speak with the minister as soon as possible so that we can organize the response.

At the mention of that cursed name, she started violently and said in a trembling voice.

No, but is it okay to make up stories like that?

Why on earth would I do that? Voldemort has just been reborn, but he is still weak. If we act quickly, we can prevent him from regaining his power and plunging the wizarding world back into chaos.

Gwendoline ran out of her office and returned less than a minute later accompanied by a very upset Dolores Umbridge, being dragged forcefully by her own subordinate (moreover, because of her main political rival). Once in front of the fireplace, Umbridge declared with a very clearly forced smile:

My very dear Albus, I understand that you had a good reason to deliberately violate the ministry's protocols. Unfortunately, in my capacity as a senior official, I am compelled to remind you of the rules and deny you any audience. It is not against you. It's just that ..

Stop these little hypocritical games immediately. You hate me and so do I. Nevertheless, we must unite to face Voldemort.

Let's see Albus, you're becoming senile. The Dark Lord has been gone for 13 years. At your age, you should be careful not to expose yourself to the sun too much.

Thank you for your suggestion, but before deciding to retire and letting you apply for my succession as president of theMagenmagot, I would like to get the minister's opinion. Let's let him decide which of us should take a well-deserved break to clear our minds.

I am sorry, but without S24 authorization, signed by the heads of the twelve departments, I am not allowed to let you through, nor to forward your call to the Minister. Of course, if you wish to obtain this authorization, I can transmit it to you, but don't forget that you need the B12 pass to get an appointment with the heads of the Ministry of Magic's departments. One per director, of course.

Knowing that it would lead to nothing, Dumbledore cut the connection. He then had an epiphany. He took another pinch of Floo powder and shouted:

Residence of Mr. Alfred Warrington, personal butler to the Minister of Magic.

Albus congratulated himself on being one of the few people to pay attention to the small staff during his many meetings with the minister. At least until he realized that this fireplace was also protected by a spell against intrusions. Fortunately, a head soon appeared in the fire:

What do you want from me? Pronounced with a strong Scottish accent the head of a man who seemed even older than Albus.

Excuse me for bothering you, but could you go tell the Minister of Magic that I urgently need to talk to him about Voldemort.

No, he's not in the port, he's in his office. Try calling the old witch, what's her name again? Oh yes, Umbridge. I was already there when she was just a little girl, just out of Hogwarts. She's come a long way since then, the dark-haired one...

No, I want to talk to him about Voldemort. Dumbledore interrupted.

The old man withdrew and returned a few seconds later with an ear trumpet.

Let me through, I must warn Cornelius that Voldemort is back.

You're starting to annoy me with the port. I'm telling you he's in his office.

Exasperated, Dumbledore gave up and tried to contact the head of the Auror Office, but once again, he was blocked. The head of a Ministry employee appeared in the flames:

Oh Dumbledore. It is with great pleasure that Scrimgeour will meet with you. However, he is very busy at the moment and we must follow procedures. For an appointment with the head of the department, please fill out form A-38 to obtain pass B12.

I don't have time, I must see him urgently.

I am sorry, but he is unavailable, but you can leave me a message and I will pass it on to him as soon as his meeting is over.

Now clearly exasperated, he screamed on the verge of hysteria:

Voldemort has just been reborn more powerful than ever. Gather all available Aurors immediately. We must go to the site of his rebirth and confront him before he gathers his followers. He has probably already deserted the place, but we have to give it a try.

Sorry? What are you talking about? Is this a bad joke?

Do I look like I'm joking? Hurry up, every minute counts. Said Dumbledore, taking on his most authoritative air and letting his power radiate.

The young employee in front of him turned pale and seemed to crumble before his authority, but replied:

I am sorry, but the office is empty. All the aurors are mobilized to ensure the security of the World Cup and to check the entries and exits of the territory. Many criminals are trying to take advantage of the massive arrivals of wizards from all over the planet to smuggle in dark magic artifacts.

Dumbledore was about to answer when the door of his office was burst open by a Severus Snape as pale as a sheet, clutching his right arm.

Albus, my mark. The Dark Lord is calling me. He is back.

After that, Dumbledore cut the connection without realizing that his interlocutor had turned even paler upon understanding that it was definitely not a bad joke.

I am aware and I am trying in vain to alert the ministry. Contact Minerva and all the members of the Order of the Phoenix you can. We must be ready to leave in 10 minutes at the latest. And above all, there's no need to play spies. The Dark Lord probably has access to all of Potter's memories. He knows which side you are on.

Severus regretted feeling relieved upon hearing that. He had thousands of questions to ask, but promptly obeyed his mentor.

Dumbledore took advantage of this brief respite to go to his quarters and opened a dresser. Usually, when he opened these drawers, he lingered on the photos of Gellert and Arianna that were there. But today he simply grabbed the wand he had abandoned there years earlier. Immediately, he felt a magical flow like he hadn't experienced in 50 years. It felt like reuniting with an old friend. The Elder Wand was undeniably more powerful, but he had never felt such a connection as with his first wand and its unicorn hair.

Once this was done, he allowed himself, after hours of constraints, to sit down and breathe. All these adventures were no longer for his age.

He decided to devote this moment of calm to resting and thinking. But the more he thought about what had just happened, the more he panicked. Voldemort possessed the three Deathly Hallows, and he no longer had the Elder Wand. With it, he had barely managed to fend off Voldemort's attacks during their previous duels.

For the first time since his confrontation with Gellert, he felt a sense of fear and helplessness at the thought of a fight. But he could not back down. He had to try at all costs to confront Voldemort before he understood how to use the relics or found allies. Or rather, more allies. He couldn't believe he had seen Pettigrew.

This called many things into question and only made him regret the death of Sirius Black the previous year even more. But it was not the time to think about that.

After a few minutes, about ten wizards were in his office waiting with him. Upon Severus's return, he had them all Apparate to the edge of the forest. They entered it cautiously, but it was desperately empty. No trace of the hut or dark magic remained.

As expected, they had been too slow.