On the top floor of the West Tower were Vaughn, Dumbledore, the leaders of the various Wizarding Schools' delegations, and the Ministry of Magic's representatives: Umbridge from the Minister for Magic's office and Barty Crouch from the International Exchange Department.
Everyone sat around a round table.
With a stern expression, Barty Crouch dryly read out the Ministry of Magic's recommendations for the Potions Exchange, while Umbridge sat beside him, looking around with a sickly-sweet smile.
Vaughn drew his gaze back from the window. Beside him, Dumbledore leaned over. "My dear, what are you looking at?"
Vaughn smiled. "Your Chosen One, trying every possible way to come and tell us what he knows. Poor boy. He probably never imagined that his respected headmaster submitted an event report to the Ministry overnight just to avoid seeing him."
Dumbledore spoke with righteous conviction. "I did that to help speed up your exchange, my dear. These malicious assumptions of yours will break a hundred-year-old man's heart."
Long accustomed to Dumbledore's shamelessness, Vaughn ignored him and turned toward Barty Crouch, adopting an attentive expression.
Dumbledore leaned closer, smiling. "You don't seem worried at all. I mean-the plans those two little fellows have might cause complications for this exchange."
Vaughn shrugged indifferently. "You're the one who should worry, Albus. You're the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Dumbledore paused, scratching his cheek in mild distress, but then his deeply wrinkled face brightened again.
If something happened to the Abraxans, he would indeed lose face as headmaster, but the legendary wizard hardly cared about appearances. Barty Crouch finished reading, doing his best not to reveal his contempt for the Ministry's recommendations.
Most of it had been bureaucratic language and platitudes, very much in keeping with Fudge's political style.
Umbridge, however, kept that sugary smile plastered on her face and began