A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 625 Exchange of Interests
Charles already knew what was going on when he left the headmaster's office. Dumbledore's ambiguous attitude made it clear that he wouldn't do anything proactively, nor would he hinder him.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office was very familiar to him; he used to come there every night back then.

Umbridge's office door was ajar, and a series of rustling sounds of setup could be heard inside, mixed with soft clattering and gentle humming.

Charles knocked on the door, and a sickeningly sweet voice immediately came from inside: "Come in!"

The sound made him shudder.

As Charles pushed open the door, he was nearly overwhelmed by a sea of ​​pink.

The walls were covered with wallpaper featuring delicate cat patterns, each cat with wide, round eyes and a different pose, against a backdrop of intricate lace.

Dozens of lace-trimmed plates form a giant, ever-changing array of cats on the wall, their gold edges shimmering under the lights and jingling softly as they rotate.

The air was filled with an overly sweet cake smell, so strong it was almost suffocating, mixed with the smell of new furniture paint.

Professor Umbridge himself was standing on tiptoe on a rickety stool, trying to hang another gold-rimmed plate at the highest point.

Her movements were clumsy and hurried, and her pink robe rustled as she moved.

"Ah! Mr. Smith!" As soon as she saw Charles, her face lit up with an extremely bright smile. She almost jumped off the stool, waving her hands in the air. "You've come at the perfect time! Come and help me see if this angle is the most perfect?"

Her tone was high-pitched and rapid, and her eyes gleamed with an almost fanatical light.

Charles had seen this kind of light in the eyes of those lost fishermen who couldn't find their way home.

In a way, he is also a cat lover, but he never expected someone to be so fanatical or deliberate.

He said politely, in the most sincere tone possible, "An impressive collection, Professor Umbridge."

"These plates are arranged in a very orderly manner, and the colors are very vibrant. They are simply perfect."

As the saying goes,
A seven-star stove is built, and a copper pot is used to cook three islands.

Set out a small dining table to welcome guests from all seven continents.

All who come are guests; all that matters is how you speak.

We meet and laugh, and then forget about it afterwards.

Charles felt no pressure to speak well of Umbridge.

Umbridge chuckled with delight, his laughter sharp and abrupt, as if he had received the highest praise.

"Oh, you think so too? That's great! I knew you were a young man of good taste!"

She nimbly jumped off the stool, dusted off her robe, and her smile became even more exaggerated.

However, Umbridge's subsequent enthusiasm made Charles uncomfortable.

She practically dragged Charles down to sit, the force of which made his arm go slightly numb.

Then she waved her wand and summoned a delicate pink floral tea set, with tiny cat paw prints on the teacups, and steaming hot tea that emitted a rich strawberry aroma.

Then she pushed a tall plate of small pastries in front of Charles, decorated with icing and almonds, and arranged in neat rows like soldiers.

“You absolutely must try this sugar almond cake.” Umbridge’s voice was filled with deep concern as she leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Charles. “How have you been lately? You were captured by those horrible goblins. Did you go to St. Mungo’s Hospital for a checkup? I hope there are no lasting effects. It was so worrying!”

Her fingers twisted nervously together, her expression as affected as if she were acting in a play.

Without waiting for Charles's reply, she asked, "Oh, and your esteemed grandfather, Mr. Jack Smith, how is he doing lately? What has he been up to?"

Her eyes were fixed on Charles, and that excessive, almost spying concern made Charles feel inexplicably uncomfortable.

This attitude is too kind; it's completely unlike the Deputy Minister of Magic, who is known for his strictness and bureaucratic style.

Charles maintained a polite facade, handling these overly personal questions with impeccable finesse, a proper smile on his face, but inwardly alarm bells were ringing.

As he ate the cake, he couldn't help but wonder what Umbridge was up to. Could it be the old man?

As another piece of cake was pushed over, Charles seized a brief lull in the conversation and decisively got to the point.

“Professor Umbridge,” he put down his barely touched teacup, his tone becoming formal, his voice steady and forceful, “I’ve heard rumors that there are some things that need my assistance in teaching this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class?”

His gaze was fixed on Umbridge, expecting a clear answer.

Umbridge's smile widened, as if he had been waiting for him to ask that question.

“Oh yes, my dear child! It’s true!” She clapped her hands excitedly, making a loud thud. “You see, a large part of my work will be focused on ensuring that Hogwarts’ teaching meets the high standards and reforms set by the Ministry of Magic, which requires a lot of paperwork and review.” “Therefore, I plan to have an excellent and trustworthy student primarily in charge of the practical teaching portion, such as you, as my associate professor.”

She leaned forward slightly, lowered her voice, and adopted a sincere tone as she continued, "You should know that in the Ministry of Magic, an excellent teaching resume at Hogwarts is an extremely valuable asset."

"I did this entirely out of appreciation and care for you, hoping to add this brilliant stroke to your glorious future."

Her tone was sincere, as if she were genuinely trying to give Charles a presentable resume.

Charles immediately understood that this was a power exchange, a win-win situation for everyone.

However, he had no interest in a political career at the Ministry of Magic, and even felt a little annoyed by it.

But immediately, a better candidate flashed into his mind.

Just then, a seventh-grade boy suddenly shivered.

“Professor,” Charles said, his face showing just the right amount of regret and sincerity, his brows furrowing slightly, his tone humble, “I am incredibly grateful for your high regard and kindness.”

"But it is precisely because I am well aware of the value of this opportunity that I have to be frank and admit that I am afraid I am not up to the task."

He paused, observing Umbridge's reaction.

Umbridge's smile froze instantly, the curve of his lips stiffening, but he quickly recovered.

Political exchanges of interests are nothing more than bargaining.

Charles continued earnestly, "As you know, I've taken on too many off-campus projects this academic year, and it's really difficult to coordinate my schedule. I'm afraid it will interfere with your teaching plans."

“However, I have an excellent candidate to recommend to you—Cedric Diggory.”

Seeing the puzzled look on Umbridge's face, Charles explained in detail: "Diggory is the president of the boys' council. Last school year, he won the Triwizard Tournament with his outstanding abilities and noble character!"

"In terms of ability, reputation, and sense of responsibility, he is the best student at Hogwarts, without exception."

"Having him serve as your associate professor of practical teaching is undoubtedly the most suitable and convincing choice."

"This valuable resume will be a huge help to his future development."

His words were fluent and sincere, and you could tell they came from the heart.

Umbridge narrowed his small eyes, scrutinizing Charles as if trying to discern the true meaning behind his words.

"You...you're actually willing to give such a good opportunity to Diggory?" There was a hint of probing in her tone. "Are you part of a small group?"

It is common for students to form various small groups, and members of these groups will help each other after graduation.

Charles met her gaze with a calm smile, his lips curving upwards, his eyes clear and firm, as if stating a fact that would inevitably come to pass: "I personally admire Cedric very much, and I believe that with his abilities and character, he is fully qualified to compete for the position of Minister of Magic in the future."

These words, like a chip, were gently placed on the scales, carrying with them an unwavering conviction.

A brief silence fell over the office, broken only by the soft turning of the cat-shaped dish on the wall, its gold trim shimmering under the light.

Umbridge leaned back in her velvet high-backed chair, her short, stubby fingers interlaced, clearly weighing the deal rapidly.

Supporting a future minister is undoubtedly a more valuable political investment than simply arranging a teaching position.

Moreover, among Charles's generation, there is truly no one who can compare to him.

Umbridge's expression shifted several times before finally relaxing.

A moment later, her face regained that sweet smile, and her voice softened as she said, "Oh, my dear child, your vision is always so unique and far-sighted."

“You’re right, Mr. Diggory is indeed an excellent candidate.”

"Okay, I'll seriously consider your suggestion."

"It seems we need to have a serious talk with Mr. Diggory."

She stood up, making a gesture of seeing the guest off, her smile still bright.

Charles secretly breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he had successfully handed the hot potato over to the most suitable person.

He rose, politely took his leave, his movements swift and elegant.

(End of this chapter)