Harry Potter: Dragonborn comes

The Inquisitor's Last Mistake

"Here are the names of all the people who met with Fudge this month. I've gone through every record. Many of them have clear ties to former Death Eaters."

Cedric set the list down on the table, his fingers trembling slightly as the members of the Order leaned in to look at the parchment. The silence that followed grew thick, almost suffocating.

"Do you think they might be controlling him?" he finally asked, lifting his gaze to the others, clear worry in his eyes.

"No," Sirius replied, his tone laced with scorn, his eyes fixed on the list as if he could set it aflame just by staring at it. "That coward doesn't need anyone pulling his strings. He only wants to protect his own interests. For him, Voldemort hasn't returned—or he simply refuses to accept it. And you know how much weight the pure-blood families' money carries."

Remus ran a hand over his unshaven beard before glancing to the corner, where Mad-Eye Moody sat with his back rigid and his jaw clenched tight.

"Were you able to get anything out of them?" Remus asked, his voice lower, almost wary.

Moody lifted his eyes for an instant, and an unpleasant gleam flickered across them.

"No. He's dead," he said flatly. "He killed himself."

"What?" several voices exclaimed at once. Disbelief mixed with a collective shudder. After all, Death Eaters could be arrogant fanatics, but they were not known for ending their own lives so easily.

"There was a curse on his tongue. Something I'd never seen before." Moody's voice kept its usual rasp, but anyone could tell that this unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

"And the three idiots we caught?" Tonks interjected, frowning deeply.

"They don't know anything useful. I interrogated them separately. Even so, I sent someone to track down the wizard they met with. Maybe we'll learn something before he vanishes." Moody shook his head slowly, as if he still struggled to accept how tangled it had all become.

"Cowards," Sirius spat, the word edged with contained rage. His hardened expression revealed the frustration of fighting a war that was no longer waged openly, but in shadows and half-truths.

"Well, you lot came in when everything was already burning," Moody murmured, his voice slower, carrying that rough calm only old veterans possessed. "But in the beginning, it was the same. No one wanted to admit what was happening. Although... I don't remember them being this meticulous."

Frank cleared his throat before raising his eyes.

"And what about Einar?" he asked with a trace of unease. "I heard him say he was going to look into something about the Dementors. Does he plan to go to Azkaban?"

"Only he would think to walk into the lair of those things willingly," Sirius muttered, a tense smile that didn't reach his eyes twisting his mouth.

"Let's not count on Einar too much right now," Moody said, his voice becoming a grave echo in the room. "He's busy trying to make sure his students learn how to truly survive."

"We know," Sirius sighed, sounding more tired than he intended. A flicker of pride softened his expression. "Those kids will be the future, after all."

…

Meanwhile, at Hogwarts:

Harry, Hermione, and Neville were walking down the corridors, their expressions tense, rage simmering just beneath their skin. Another run-in with Umbridge had just ended—another reminder that in their own school, the air itself was poisoned beyond cleansing. All because of that absurd rule forbidding them from speaking to teachers unless it concerned academics.

But as they turned a corner, they stumbled onto something worse.

A first-year student, barely more than a child, sat on the floor with his face drenched in tears, while Fred and George Weasley tried to soothe him. George was gripping the boy's wrist tightly, crimson blood dripping onto the stone in alarming rivulets. A red potion sizzled where it met the open wound, but it still refused to close.

"He's the fifth one this week," Neville whispered, his eyes wide with horror.

Fred looked up as they approached. His usually mischievous face was marked by a severity that seemed unnatural coming from him.

"I don't think we can hide this much longer, guys," he said hoarsely. "The professor is going to find out… if he doesn't already know. And if he does, he's probably about to cause an apocalypse."

"Harry… we have to tell him," Hermione insisted, her voice vibrating with pure determination.

Harry clenched his jaw. Inside him churned the helpless fury of knowing he could do nothing. He had thought of psychological tactics to break Umbridge down, but that woman was something worse than a monster—she was a coward with power. A detestable combination.

"There's no need," came a voice behind them.

They all spun around at once, a chill racing down their spines.

Einar stood there. Without his mask. His crystalline white hair fell loose over his shoulders, gleaming in the torchlight. But it was his eyes that stole their breath: two golden abysses blazing with reptilian pupils. His face, so perfect it could have been carved by ancient gods, was twisted by a primordial fury.

"Professor…" Hermione stammered, her voice trembling.

"I was aware," Einar whispered, and the stones beneath their feet vibrated with the low power in his voice. "But you all worked so hard to hide it… I respected your will. Your tenacity did not allow me to intervene. Until now." His gaze dropped to the sobbing child. "But to attack little ones who don't even grasp the cruelty that hangs over them…"

His voice broke into a murmur that made the suits of armor quiver and the portraits shiver on their walls.

"…that I will not allow."

He turned. Every step thundered through the corridor, his black cloak flaring behind him like a dragon's tail. With each footfall, the marble floor cracked, leaving burning fissures that glowed red, as if the very foundations of the castle trembled in fear of him.

At that same moment, in the woods surrounding Hogwarts, dozens of hooded witches and wizards straightened with grave expressions. This was the signal they had waited for. Like shadows, they began to converge on the castle.

Inside, professors and students felt the quaking and knew that this time, Einar's fury would not be a whisper. It would be a cataclysm. No one dared remain seated: the halls filled with hurried footsteps, anxious looks, and trembling wands.

In Umbridge's office, the woman suddenly felt as if an ocean of ice had been dumped over her. A reptilian, ancestral fear hollowed out her lungs and forced her to her knees. Gasping, she crawled toward the fireplace, fumbling for the Floo powder with numb fingers.

But it was too late.

One of the stone walls exploded inward, hurling debris and dust across the room. Umbridge shrieked like a wounded animal, clumsily raising her wand.

And there he stood.

Einar stepped forward, the moonlight washing over his silhouette. His beauty was so overwhelming it almost hurt to look at him. A marble face, the bearing of a warrior god. And those eyes… two golden suns blazing with limitless hatred.

"You… you… I am the Inquisitor sent by the Ministry," Umbridge stammered, as a sour stench seeped from her clothes. The fear hollowed her out so completely she could barely remain standing.

"I let you play your little games," Einar said, his voice deep and cold, "because I trusted my students to tear down your farce with their own strength. Because your attacks were aimed at me… and at Dumbledore. But you crossed a line."

An instant of silence.

Then came a deadly hiss.

Fifty daggers materialized in the air, gleaming with a sickly crimson light. They flew like a swarm of serpents and pierced Umbridge's hands, calves, and shoulders with surgical precision. The impacts were dry and brutal. No blood spilled—but each blade pulsed, transmitting such searing pain that her scream echoed down the hallway.

"AAAAAHHH—!"

The daggers throbbed like crazed hearts. The flesh around each wound blackened, but she remained conscious, trapped in endless agony.

"Killing you would be as easy as crushing an insect," Einar murmured, looking down at her with a contempt so pure it seemed divine.

Behind him, the corridor filled with wizards in combat robes, wands raised. Among them, students who had come running, ready to protect their professor.

Einar didn't even glance at them.

"Dren," he said calmly.

From a fold of shadows, the demon butler emerged, his silhouette darker than the deepest night. His mere presence made several Aurors recoil in terror.

"She is yours. From now on, you will watch over my students. Support them. Help Harry, Hermione, and Neville," Einar ordered, his tone so frigid the temperature seemed to plummet.

"Yes, sir," Dren replied with a respectful bow before gliding toward Umbridge, whose eyes bulged in absolute panic.

"No! No! Help me! You—do something!" she shrieked, but her voice was little more than a ragged croak.

The Aurors began to fire spells. Einar didn't move. He lifted one hand, and with a single gesture, they all froze in place.

He drew a deep breath. Then his roar exploded like thunder, shaking every stone of the castle and rolling across the sky all the way to Hogsmeade.

"In this castle are my students! If any of them are harmed by your government's stupid war… I will destroy this country. And I will kill every last one of the responsible cowards. If my students ever need my help… shout my name to the sky!"

Einar raised his face. And when he spoke the final word, the heavens seemed to split in a golden blaze.

"DOVAHKIIN!"

A luminous wave spread outward like a blessing. Every student felt a shiver of power and a protective warmth settle deep in their hearts.

Einar lowered his gaze. The Aurors clutched their heads, stunned and pale.

"You wanted to send me to Azkaban," he murmured, a mocking gleam flickering in his eyes. "Don't worry. I will go find you myself."

He lifted both hands. The air tore open like canvas, revealing a crackling rift brimming with impossible power. He stepped through it—and in the instant he vanished, every protective barrier around Hogwarts detonated in a thunderous crash that shook the very foundations.

The Aurors remained frozen, trembling before the devastating evidence that they had unleashed something far worse than any Dark Lord.

"We… we have to warn the Minister," one whispered, his voice breaking.

"Maybe… maybe we've just created an enemy more dangerous than Voldemort himself," another muttered under his breath.

The students, meanwhile, stood in stunned silence. Fred and George were the first to break it, nervous grins spreading across their faces.

"That… that was monstrously brilliant," they said in unison.

And no one there dared to disagree.

Because everyone knew that the only reason that demon hadn't slaughtered them all… was the love he held for his students. But soon enough, even the pure-blood families would understand they had awakened something they could never have imagined in their darkest nightmares.

Einar withdrew. Because sometimes, letting the serpent believe it is safe… is the only way to cut off its head.