By Monday, a rumor had spread like wildfire through Hogwarts Castle. Word was that during the previous day’s Quidditch training match, Kyle and the Weasley twins had clashed in the Changing Rooms over some dispute.
At first, most dismissed the idea outright. Everyone knew Fred, George, and Kyle were inseparable, the kind of friends who wouldn’t let a disagreement escalate into something serious. But skepticism began to fade when someone noticed the twins sporting obvious injuries.
Each of them had a black eye, as though they’d been struck hard by something.
The castle buzzed with speculation. The rumors seemed to be true, and the mystery of why the two inseparable friends had fought captivated nearly everyone. Yet neither the Weasley twins nor Kyle offered an explanation. They remained tight-lipped, fueling even more curiosity.
At that moment, Kyle was sitting in Professor Umbridge’s office.
“Professor…” he began, watching her fuss with a bottle of dried flowers. “I know why they went to The Hog’s Head.”
“What?” Umbridge immediately stopped what she was doing, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward eagerly.
“To canvass,” Kyle said flatly. “They were trying to rally their family to support Dumbledore as Minister of Magic.”
“Damn it!” Umbridge hissed, slamming the bottle onto her desk. She didn’t hesitate to believe Kyle’s claim for a second.
After all, she was already aware of the rumors that Kyle had dueled the Weasley twins. She also knew they had been seen at The Hog’s Head. And now, with Kyle—someone who had turned against lifelong friends—reporting this, she had no reason to doubt his loyalty to the Ministry or the accuracy of his information.
Mobilizing families to back Dumbledore… The mere thought of it made her blood boil. If Minister Fudge caught wind of this, his reaction would be explosive.
Pacing her office like a wind-up toy set loose, Umbridge muttered furiously, “No, no, this must be stopped. There cannot be a second incident .”
“What are you planning to do?” Kyle asked, watching her intently.
“Dissolve all student organizations, associations, teams, and clubs. Prevent them from gathering again,” she announced with a sharp edge in her voice.
“But Professor, that will cause an uproar,” Kyle pointed out. “Almost every Hogwarts student is part of a club or team. Isn’t that a bit... extreme?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Umbridge said dismissively, her tone final. “The existing student groups will be disbanded, but they can always reorganize—provided they receive my approval.”
With that, she pulled out a sheet of parchment, her quill poised to issue yet another Educational Decree. This one would be stricter than any before.
As the High Inquisitor appointed by the Ministry of Magic, she had the authority to enforce it.
“Professor, I still feel something is amiss,” Kyle continued. “There are too many organizations, associations, and clubs at the school. Investigating and reorganizing all of them will take at least a week, and by the time we’re done, students at the back of the line will still complain.”
“This is an order from the Ministry of Magic,” Umbridge said haughtily. “They must accept it.”
“Of course,” Kyle replied smoothly, “but I have a better idea.”
Umbridge paused mid-scribble and looked up at him, intrigued.
Kyle cleared his throat. “In fact, even if some of them want to support Dumbledore, it doesn’t matter. As long as the majority choose to support Minister Fudge, the others won’t make a difference.”
“What do you mean?” Umbridge asked, leaning forward.
“I’ve done some digging, and there were only about fifty people at the last gathering,” Kyle explained. “Compared to the entire student body, that number is small—insignificant, even. We can absolutely win over the rest of the school and have them back Minister Fudge.”
Kyle’s voice grew more confident as he continued, “Think about it, Professor. If the rest of Hogwarts—hundreds of students—align with the Ministry, these fifty or so won’t matter at all.”
Umbridge’s eyes lit up briefly, and she leaned back, contemplating his words.
If Fudge learned that students were openly supporting Dumbledore, he’d be livid. But if she could counter that by winning over the majority, it would change everything. Kyle had a point: fifty students were nothing compared to the entire school. Even if only half of the remaining students supported the Ministry, it would still be a significant win—and a feather in her cap.
“What’s your suggestion?” she asked finally. “Should we throw a party? Set it up in the Great Hall and invite everyone?”
Kyle shook his head. “No need for that, Professor. That might come across as desperate, as if we’re trying too hard.”
“So what then? How do we show them the Ministry’s goodwill?” Umbridge asked, her curiosity piqued.
Kyle hesitated, his expression uncertain.
“What?” Umbridge raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. If your plan works, I’ll personally inform Minister Fudge that it was your idea.”
“You misunderstand, Professor,” Kyle stammered. “It’s just that… you know, our House, Hufflepuff, was beaten by Slytherin today…”
“Kyle, let me be clear,” Umbridge interrupted with a stern look. “Even as a professor, I cannot award extra points to students unfairly. That would be disgraceful cheating.”
“Yes, Professor, I understand,” Kyle said in a low voice. “But if we win the House Cup again this year, it’ll be six years in a row…”
“Regardless, that kind of cheating is unacceptable,” Umbridge said firmly. Then, after a brief pause, she added, “However, since you’ve brought some critical information to light, I can make an exception just this once. I’ll award Hufflepuff twenty extra points.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Kyle said, smiling broadly.
“Now, let’s hear your plan.”
“Of course,” Kyle said. “As I was saying, if we want to show the students the Ministry’s goodwill, we should start with Quidditch.”
“Quidditch?” Umbridge frowned, clearly puzzled.
“Yes,” Kyle said. “It’s the most popular sport at Hogwarts, with the largest following. Dumbledore, however, has shown little interest in it—or, rather, he’s too stingy to invest in it. The school’s broomsticks are outdated Comets and Swifts. They’re slow and clunky, and the players have complained about them repeatedly.”
He leaned forward slightly. “If the Ministry of Magic funded new broomsticks for the school, I think the excitement among students would be through the roof.”
“New brooms?” Umbridge repeated, her brow furrowing. “That would cost a fortune.”
“They wouldn’t have to be top-of-the-line,” Kyle said quickly. “Just something new, like Cleansweeps. They’re reliable, and the Ministry could likely negotiate a discount. You could even present it as your initiative.”
Umbridge’s eyes gleamed as an idea seemed to form in her mind. She didn’t respond immediately, but the lack of outright refusal was telling.
Kyle pressed on, sensing an opportunity. “Quidditch has so many fans, Professor. Each team member is influential within their House and beyond. For a relatively small investment, you could gain widespread support while also highlighting Dumbledore’s stinginess. It’s an excellent, cost-effective strategy.”