The next morning, the aroma of breakfast filled the Great Hall.
Hermione hurriedly swallowed her last mouthful of porridge, lowered her voice conspiratorially, and pushed the Daily Prophet into the middle of the table.
"I know why Umbridge left in such a hurry last night!"
Jerry immediately leaned over. A glaring headline stood out in bold on the newspaper's front page:
[Ministry of Magic ransacked! Department of Mysteries emptied! Rita Skeeter's exclusive exposé: Fudge's security is more laughable than a Troll's arithmetic!]
"Explosive news! The sky is falling! The very foundations of Britain's wizarding world have been torn away!"
"Dear citizens, what little trust you have left has once again been trampled beneath the boots of those gilded fools at the Ministry of Magic!"
"Incompetence is no longer sufficient to describe the Ministry of Magic's current, utterly appalling state!"
"Just yesterday afternoon, while the Aurors were ignoring Dark Wizards and busily singing the minister's praises—the Department of Mysteries, the Ministry's most vital department, which should have been impregnable, was stripped bare, suffering devastating losses!"
Bullshit!
It wasn't anywhere near that bad! Jerry nearly swore aloud as he read the newspaper. All I did was steal... take a few Time-Turners! How did everything else get pinned on me, too...?
A smear. A fucking smear!
I should have set some Fiendfyre loose before I left and burned the whole place down!
"No wonder Umbridge left so quickly last night," Harry said, listlessly prodding the bread on his plate, with little appetite. "She was rushing back to the Ministry."
"But the Ministry's security is far too lax. Do you think... it could have been Voldemort?" Harry asked, lowering his voice.
"They definitely did it!" Jerry nodded emphatically.
"Still, that woman Rita Skeeter exaggerates enough to fit a Troll into every article! Just listen