A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 624 gave too much.

After the dinner, Ron and Hermione took on their duties as prefects, leading the chattering, curious Gryffindor freshmen along the familiar yet mysterious corridor toward the entrance to the common room, where the portrait of the Fat Lady hung.

However, the start was unfavorable.

The new students were all looking at the ruby; some were reluctant to leave.

“Ruby will be going to the common room in a bit,” Hermione called them away, “whoever doesn’t follow will be sleeping in the hallway tonight!”

None of the freshmen wanted to experience sleeping in a gloomy corridor, so this rather terrifying threat immediately took effect. They quickly suppressed their curiosity and obediently jogged to catch up with the group, not daring to fall behind again.

The group stepped onto the moving magical staircase.

During a brief pause in the slow rotation of the staircase, emitting a low mechanical hum, Harry said to Charles, who was walking beside him, "Honestly, Charles, I thought you'd definitely be the Gryffindor Prefect, but it turned out Ron got the badge."

Not only him, but almost everyone in the Weasley family, even Ron himself, thought the same way. After receiving the prefect's badge, they assumed it was to be handed over to Charles.

“I simply don’t have that much time,” Charles shook his head gently, his tone calm. In his eyes, it was not something to regret. “Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall are well aware of this as well. My other affairs take up too much of my energy.”

Harry thought about it and felt that the reason was indeed sufficient.

He quickly glanced around to make sure the other students going up and down the stairs weren't paying attention to their hushed conversation, and whispered, "You've finished your homework."

Charles nodded and replied, "Put it on my bedside table. I'm going to the principal's office now."

Snape said today that he was to be in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, so he needed to find out what the situation was, as it concerned his future arrangements.

Dumbledore did not seem surprised by Charles's arrival.

Even the huge gargoyle stone beast guarding the entrance to the principal's office, upon seeing Charles approach, did not ask for a password as usual, but automatically jumped aside and silently made way for him.

"What is it, Charles?" Dumbledore sat behind his enormous desk, piled high with all sorts of strange silverware and parchment, his fingers interlaced on the surface, his eyes gleaming, and his face bearing a gentle expression of feigned ignorance.

Without any further pleasantries, Charles took a heavy, bulging dragon-skin bag directly from his bag.

He pinched the top of the bag with one hand and steadily supported the bottom with the other. In an instant, the golden Galleons poured out like a small waterfall, the crisp clinking sound echoing in the quiet office. The gold coins piled up on the smooth table, forming a glittering little mountain, exactly five thousand.

This is the annual rent he pays for renting an unused small tower in Hogwarts Castle.

Dumbledore didn't count them; he simply waved his Elder Wand, and the gold coins flew up automatically, drawing a golden river in the air before landing neatly in a heavy, antique oak money box in the corner of the office with a crisp clinking sound.

Just as the gold coin settled and the office fell silent again, a tuft of hair on Charles's head suddenly defied gravity and stood up, spinning nimbly like a sensitive pointer before pointing steadily and unequivocally to an inconspicuous cabinet in the corner of the office.

Dumbledore's face darkened instantly.

Without a word, Charles walked straight over, skillfully opened the cabinet door, and unceremoniously confiscated all the candy the principal had secretly hidden, stuffing it into his other pocket.

Professor McGonagall has decreed that if Dumbledore is found to be violating the diet plan, any prohibited food may be confiscated.

"What is that?" Dumbledore's attention was immediately diverted. He stared curiously at the tuft of hair on Charles's head that had returned to its original, docile state. He temporarily forgot about the loss of all the candy, and his eyes gleamed with a strong desire to explore. "I can clearly feel that it contains very strong magical fluctuations, a kind of... indescribable magic?"

Charles took the rent receipt that the principal had just written, the ink still wet, and replied vaguely, "It's hard to describe its essence accurately. Essentially, it's a... well, let's just say it's a very intelligent and magical creature."

He immediately composed himself, his expression turning serious. He looked directly at Dumbledore and asked, "Headmaster, I heard today that the teaching arrangements for this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class seem to be related to me?" Recalling Umbridge's long, rigid, and bureaucratic speech in the Great Hall tonight, she was clearly wielding the Ministry of Magic's authority and intending to stir up trouble at Hogwarts. Charles had no intention of becoming a pawn in her hands or a tool for establishing his authority.

Dumbledore nodded, his gaze complex and tinged with helplessness, and said, "Professor Umbridge specifically requested that you assist her with her teaching this academic year."

He paused, then added in a cold, businesslike tone: "Her reasons were quite valid, and she claimed it was entirely for your academic development and future plans."

"As the principal, under the current circumstances, it is difficult for me to find a suitable reason to directly refuse."

Charles frowned immediately and said firmly, “Principal, I have my own plans for this school year, and I have a lot of things to deal with. My schedule is already very full, and I’m afraid there is simply no extra time to assist her teaching, no matter how necessary she thinks it is.”

"Furthermore... I have already privately written to Minister Scrinker, communicating privately and requesting to use the time converter again."

He made the situation sound very serious.

A hint of regret, as if he could do nothing, appeared on Dumbledore's face. He sighed softly and said, "If that's the case, Charles, I'm afraid you'll need to personally communicate and coordinate with Professor Umbridge."

"After all, this directly involves your personal schedule."

Charles keenly sensed a subtle, almost imperceptible, change in Dumbledore's words and attitude; it was not merely helplessness, but more like a passive acquiescence.

He leaned forward slightly, lowered his voice, and asked with a serious, probing tone, "Headmaster, is there something she, or the Ministry of Magic, has on you that they can't get hold of?"

He always felt that Dumbledore's attitude at that moment carried an unusual, almost indulgent, compromise.

Dumbledore's expression also became extremely serious, and every word carried a heavy weight as he slowly said, "Charles, I hope you can understand that I am first and foremost the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"My primary responsibility is to ensure the safety and smooth operation of this castle and all teachers and students."

He didn't answer directly, but the subtext of his words was clear.

Charles's lips twitched slightly, and he immediately understood most of what was going on.

He seemed to be deep in thought, then cut to the chase, saying, "So, how much more funding did the Ministry of Magic increase for Hogwarts this year?"

Dumbledore, with a deep gaze, calmly replied, "It's double the budget of previous years."

Charles thought to himself, no wonder. Such a large increase in funding would force the principal to make concessions on many things.

“And this increased allocation,” Dumbledore continued, his gaze lingering meaningfully on Charles’s face, “is said to have come largely from the much-anticipated extra taxes paid by the Centaur Liaison Office.”

Charles couldn't help but raise his hand and pinch his brow, finally understanding the whole story.

It turned out that the trade network that he and Eleanor had created through the centaur liaison office had been so successful in expanding the Ministry of Magic's revenue that the Ministry's coffers were overflowing with money. With so much money, they could generously and significantly increase education funding, which gave them the confidence to put the troublesome Umbridge into Hogwarts as a condition and let her make all sorts of demands.

Admittedly, for Minister Scrimgeour, this was indeed the most respectable way to get rid of Umbridge, the senior deputy minister. No one would object to the additional funding for Hogwarts, and Umbridge regained his small amount of power.

“I understand what’s going on.” Charles sighed softly, a hint of helplessness flashing in his eyes as he faced impending trouble. “Alright, I’ll go find Professor Umbridge… and have a good talk with him.”

“I have some influence in the Ministry of Magic, so I think she will cooperate well.”

(End of this chapter)