The Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), the largest department at the Minister of Magic, and after the Minister’s Office, it was without an argument, the single-most-important of the various departments, the only department that could get in the debate was the secretive Department of Mysteries (DOM) — as aside from DOM, every other department was answerable to DMLE.

DMLE held the vital responsibility of functioning as a combination of police and justice facilities — the scope of duties was so vast that DMLE was divided into a vast array of divisions and further sub-divisions. They housed the elusive Auror’s Office, the militant Hit Wizard Division, the hectic Improper Use of Magic Office, the clerical division of Wizengamot Administration Services, the connecting bridge in Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, and so many others that held their personal territories of responsibilities.

And sitting on top of all that power was the Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement — Amelia Susan Bones, the Head of the House of Bones, and the second most influential person in the Ministry of Magic after the Minister himself.

She sat in her office, the prestigious office passed down from one DMLE Head to the next, and a symbol of power in the Ministry — the one who sat in this office exerted influence to every corner of the Ministry and even to the non-magical world. Amelia, the current holder of the office, was an unusual case as Head of DMLE were usually either Aurors, Hit Wizards or Judges in the Council of Magical Law — Amelia Bones was none of that — she had started her Ministry career in the Wizengamot Administration Services as a clerk at the lowest rung of the ladder and had made her way up to the top of the chain, becoming an outlier in the history of Heads of DMLE.

It was ten in the morning, and Amelia caught up with the events that happened after she went home yesterday through the reports submitted by every facet of her dominion.

Amelia closed the last report of her engaging morning and glanced up at the wall clock to see that she still had a quarter of an hour before she needed to leave for the daily meeting with the Division Heads under her. She didn’t have anything else planned into her docket, so she decided to go early to the conference room and maybe stop in a place or two for spot checks.

But as she stood up, her secretary entered the office through the large heavy double doors with a brown-wrapped box held in both hands.

“This came from Susan.” The secretary placed the box on her table, and there was an envelope sitting atop the box, and Amelia recognized her niece’s penmanship.

The plans to leave early for spot checks flew out of Amelia’s mind as her hands went straight for the letter — her dear niece was the only remaining family she had left after the war and was the person she cared for the most. So any letter that came from Susan instantly became a priority for her as this was the only mode of communication Amelia had with Susan.

I should raise a motion in Wizengamot to allow MagiFax in Hogwarts, Amelia thought as she opened up the envelope.

To her surprise, a smaller envelope slipped out along a letter. Amelia unfolded the letter at it was indeed from Susan, but the penmanship on the smaller letter addressed to her wasn’t her niece’s.

Madam Amelia Bones,

Head of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Amelia’s lips thinned into a line as she narrowed her eyes at the way the unknown writer had addressed.

Did Susan get coerced into sending this? Were Amelia first displeased thoughts as she didn’t want people to bother her niece because of her job, but as she read Susan’s letter, the contents caught her attention.

“Quinn.. . West?” She looked at the letter and the box. According to Susan, they were from George West’s grandson, and the boy stressed that they were of utmost importance and to be opened immediately.

Amelia opened the letter first, curious to see what Quinn West had to say — her first thought was that it was beautifully written, but her eyes widened, and her mouth slackened as she read the words — the first thought had long become an afterthought by the end of the letter.

Is this a joke? Her thoughts scrambling to understand. Her hand hastily went for the accompanying box. She undid the wrapping paper and uncovered a dark mahogany wooden box with no marking on the outside, not even a latch or hinge. She lifted the lid and gasped when she saw a dozen of what she recognized as shrunken-down film reel cases.

“.. . It’s not a joke? It’s real?” She picked up one of the cases, popped them open, and sat inside full-reels. And if the letter was to be trusted, they were proof of the mentioned allegations.

She read the letter a couple of times over just to be sure. The contents of the letter didn’t change.

The double doors once again opened, and the secretary peeked inside. “Boss, it’s time for the meeting. Boss?”

Amelia didn’t speak for a while, but when she finally did, she said, “Cancel the meeting — and get me Head Auror Scrimgeour, Captain Auror Robards, and Senior Auror Potter — no, not him, get me Senior Auror Black instead.”

‘If this is true,’ Amelia thought, ‘then this is going to be big,’ she glanced at the letter, her eyes fixed on Quinn West at the top of the page.

– (Scene Break) –

After a hefty practical lesson of Herbology, gardening in the greenhouses, Quinn walked into the entrance hall, ready to have a good lunch.

I wonder if there will be bacon pie, Quinn thought, his stomach mere clicks away from growling like a crocodile.

“West.” Quinn turned at the mention of his name, his thoughts about stuffing his mouth broken by the sight of Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the hall.

“Malfoy,” said Quinn, changing his direction to walk towards Draco, “how’s the Junior Inquisitor life suiting you? First the Prefect and then this, you have been doing well this year.”

Draco stared at Quinn, and contrary to his expectations, Quinn didn’t seem to be down or miserable — he was smiling like a refreshed man.

“Umbridge is going to break down the door in your office today.”

Quinn quirked his brow, tilted his head just a smudge, and stared at Draco.

Draco’s squished his brows together, “What? Why’re you looking at me?”

“I’m surprised with you, Malfoy? Very, very, very surprised.”

“Why?”

“Why would you tell me about Umbridge’s plan?” Quinn looked around and shook his head, “You don’t have your usual friends galore with you, so it’s not to gloat, and you don’t have the mocking smear on your face that you usually have when picking a fight with the golden boy — so it interests me much for why would you tell me this?”

Draco pursed his lips and stared at Quinn, a muddle of thoughts flashing through his mind. “You could stop it,” he said, “a word from your grandfather and Fudge himself would come down to reprimand Professor Umbridge. You could’ve put her into place the first time she tried to close down AID and give you detention, but you didn’t — it’s been two days since she closed down AID and gave you detention, but there hasn’t been a peep from you.” Draco intently watched Quinn, who was still smiling, “Why? I want to know why?”

Draco couldn’t comprehend why Quinn, who was constantly on loggerheads with Umbridge, would continue to let the woman try time after time to make it difficult for him. If it was him, he would’ve written to his father a long time ago. After all, unlike Hogwarts Professors, who were backed by Dumbledore, who the parents couldn’t pressure into getting Professors into trouble — Umbridge answered to Fudge, who could easily be pressured by people like their families.

“I’m sixteen this year,” said Quinn.

“What?” said Draco, his tone uncertain.

“I’m sixteen this year,” repeated Quinn, “next year, I turn seventeen and will be of age, and the year after that, I will have graduated from Hogwarts with what is considered to be the minimum required to be a functioning adult.”

Quinn flicked his hand, and an AID card appeared between his fingers. “I decided to open AID during my first year, sent the request during the summer before my second, and by the time Christmas of that year arrived, AID had been officially established and ready to serve the students of Hogwarts.

Do you know that most of the things in the office that you see today are built by me — I didn’t buy a good 70 to 80 percent stuff and instead crafted the tables and chairs I crafted from wood, the glass wall I tempered from stray shards, the plants I grew from seed, the knick-knacks I use for decor, I made them in my spare time.”

Quinn paused in thought before shrugging, “Behind the glass wall,” Draco’s eyes widened, “there’s an honest-to-magic workshop where I brew potions, inscribe runes, design my creations, and charm items — even in that room, I have handcrafted half of the stuff, the other half is professional tools like cauldrons, vials, rune tools, among many, and even some of those things, I have modified to my preferences and needs.

“I didn’t go to my family and say that I wanted to make something like AID and told them to make things happen. I’m sure if my grandfather tried, I would have a letter from the Board of Governors that I could’ve used to get started — but I didn’t because I wanted to do things on my own. Whatever AID is today is because I worked hard for it to be so.”

Quinn sighed. He didn’t intend to speak so long, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve relied plenty on my family’s name — there are things in my workshop that a typical middle-class family wouldn’t even imagine buying for their children. The Quidditch tournament wouldn’t have been so big if my name wasn’t West, and Wests weren’t what we are today.

“The point I’m trying to make is that I considered myself to be a self-made man. I want to become something because it was me who made it possible and not my family name,” he put his hands behind his back, “but because of the golden spoon I was born, others wouldn’t see me that way if I don’t go over and beyond.”

Quinn came into this world not knowing the reason, but he got something he never thought existed. The day he first used magic and smashed the ball into a wall which bounced back into his face, knocking him into his beg — that day, Quinn had decided that he wanted to be great; he wanted to accomplish something with this new life of his — he was given a gift, and he was going to use it to the limit.

“I am neither an underdog,” said Quinn, and Draco scoffed, bringing a smile to Quinn’s face, “nor I have the rags-to-riches tag on me. I’m the complete opposite — I’m the star-favorite, and if I want, I can be swimming in a goblin vault of galleons the very next day. The latter I was born into and can’t do anything about, don’t want to do anything about because frankly having ton load of coin is great — but the star-favorite, I worked that on myself.”

Quinn stared deeply at Draco, “Umbridge is nothing but a blip in my journey, someone not worthy to even be mentioned in the footnotes of my memoir. If I can’t handle someone like her, then there’s no way I will be able to accomplish things I have planned for myself. Going to my family just because I don’t like a person is the weakest, most pathetic thing in my book,” Draco flinched, recalling the many times he had sent letters back home because of the same reason, hoping that his father would do something.

“I’m here to carve a path of my own,” Quinn raised his hand with only one finger pointing up, “someday I WILL be big enough that Quinn won’t be known because of West — but West will be known because of Quinn.” He pointed at Draco, “So Draco Malfoy, the Heir of Malfoy, do you just want to be that, or you want to be something more, something that will be just Draco.”

Draco felt a tingle crawling over his skin, a heavy feeling in his stomach. Moreover his heartbeat raced. His father, even his mother, would always tell him to be better — to be better than the mudbloods, to be better than the blood traitors, to be better than the Greengrasses and Notts, to be better the other Slytherins, to be better than someone like Diggory, and most importantly, be better than Potter — but never in their conversation had they said to be better than Quinn West, never had they brought the person standing in front of him into comparison.

Was this why? Draco thought. Because they weren’t even thinking on the same level, much less doing things? They both were in the same position — both were of the same age and had influential families with more money than they could spend — yet here was he feeling proud about becoming a part of the Inquisitor Squad, while Quinn didn’t even put Umbridge in his eyes.

How could there be such a big difference?

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Quinn speak while looking over his shoulder. “Oh, it looks like it’s about to start,” said Quinn.

“Um, what?” Draco turned to see what Quinn was looking at and did a double-take when he saw Amelia Bones, Head of DMLE, with a group of Aurors of whom Sirius Black was a part of, being led by a confused-looking Pomona Sprout.

The group walked straight into the great hall.

“Come on, let’s go take a look,” said Quinn, “I hope it’ll be fun.”

Draco, still trying to make sense of things, could do nothing but follow along.

– (Scene Break) –

If not for the fact that she was here on important DMLE business, Amelia would’ve loved to take a leisurely stroll around Hogwarts, visiting the castle after such a long time. She would’ve loved to talk to her old Head of House but had to pull on her professional face and ask her to lead them into the great hall. There she would’ve again loved to sit and talk to her niece, but here she was walking towards the staff table.

“Amelia.. . what brings you here?” asked Dumbledore, getting up from his headmaster’s chair as the great hall whispered around them.

She observed the old man; he didn’t seem to be surprised at all. It didn’t surprise her; this was his school, and — she glanced at Black — there were people in her own team who could’ve informed him.

“Dumbledore,” she said, the sound of saying it without Professor, still sometimes felt strange in her mouth, “we’re here for official DMLE business. I hope you’d cooperate with us.”

“Of course, whatever you want,” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

Amelia nodded and then turned to Scrimgeour. She, after all, wasn’t an Auror. But it wasn’t bad; she had Head Auror Scrimgeour at her beck-and-call.

Scrimgeour nodded and stepped forward to do his duty. He turned to look at Dumbledore’s immediate right and took out his wand.

“Dolores Umbridge, for in suspicion of owning a highly illegal dark item, twenty-nine counts of child endangerment, and twenty-nine counts of child abuse, you’re hereby under my authority as the Head Auror placed under arrest. I ask you to surrender your wand willingly, or we will be forced to strip it away from you. Then stand up, with your hands visible, and come around the table to be cuffed.”

The great hall exploded. There was so much noise that people with sensitive years had to cover them to stop the pain. Students and Professors alike stood up from their places and chattered away about what the hell was happening.

But cutting through the noise like nails against blackboards was Umbridge’s shrieking shrill voice as she stood up, turning all sorts of red. “What! How dare you! I will have your head for this! Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, just wait till Cornelius hears about this; you’ll be packing by the end of this day —”

“Dolores,” Amelia interjected, her face flat, “don’t threaten my subordinate. You have no power over him,” Umbridge froze. “Now come over peacefully, or I will have you stunned, bound, and wand-stripped in front of the entire Hogwarts,” said Amelia, “so what it will be? I have no problem either way.”

“Listen here, Bones —”

“Do it,” said Amelia cutting off Umbridge.

A red-hot stunner hit Umbridge at Auror-force, knocking the pink toad into her chair, which because of her weight, tipped and tumbled back, falling onto the ground with Umbridge still on it.

Amelia looked unbothered, “There’s that. Let’s get her cuffed and bound. Don’t wake her up; she’ll just scream bloody murder.”

Sirius grinned and saluted, “Yes, boss.”

Amelia turned to Dumbledore, “I apologize for the commotion. My men and I will clear out as soon as possible. But before we do, can you show us to her office? We need to collect evidence.”

“Of course, anything for the Aurors,” said Dumbledore, serenely smiling under his beard.

– (Scene Break) –

Draco watched with his face bulging eyes as everything took place so suddenly. One minute he was talking to Quinn; the next watched as Umbridge got a stunner shot to her face.

“Nicely done, don’t you think?”

Draco turned to Quinn, who stood with his arms crossed, a smile on his face.

“Looks like Umbridge won’t be breaking into my workshop after all.”

“You.. . You, don’t tell me you did this?” Draco asked, stammering.

Quinn looked at him and smiled, “She might just be a blip, but she overstepped her insignificant blip bounds, so she had to go.” Quinn patted Draco on the shoulder, “This is what just Quinn can do. There was never a need to get West involved. Let’s get closer. I want to see if I can get a picture; it’ll sell amazingly, I think.”

Draco watched with head spinning with too many thoughts as Quinn strutted into the great hall.

Quinn West – MC – Booyakasha!

Amelia Bones – Head of DMLE – Yeah-yeah, let’s get it moving.

Draco Malfoy – Shocked – What the hell?!

Albus Dumbledore – Headmaster – Sure, whatever you want.

FictionOnlyReader – Author – That middle scene kind-off stretched.