Chapter 29: Chapter 29: Unwelcome Return

Arthur entered Hogwarts castle again after riding the Hogwarts Express back to Hogsmeade. Just one more term left before he graduated and could leave this place behind for good.

He’d been expecting some sort of telling-off from Dumbledore or the other professors about missing the Yule Ball, but he wasn’t particularly bothered. He hadn’t broken any actual rules, after all, just social expectations. Nothing to worry about.

Still, his absence from the ball had caused quite the drama. Even on the train journey back to Hogwarts, he could see loads of students whispering and pointing when they caught sight of him. The Daily Prophet, predictably, had covered the story with its usual exaggeration and bias.

“HOGWARTS CHAMPION SNUBS WIZARDING TRADITIONS” the headline had screamed, followed by a nasty article about how muggle-borns lacked proper respect for wizarding customs. Rita Skeeter had outdone herself, describing his absence as “a deliberate insult to magical cooperation” and “evidence of the growing cultural divide between true wizarding families and those who merely borrow our magic.”

This incident had ensured that Arthur’s reputation, which had been improving slightly after his impressive performance in the first task, had taken a nosedive once again. Now he received hateful glares from all the purebloods, especially those who had gone home for the holidays. It looked like their parents had given them a crash course on him and how they should treat the “disrespectful mudblood.”

He entered the Great Hall for the welcome-back feast, bracing himself for the usual wave of silent judgment and the familiar empty space that would form around him at the Slytherin table. He took his seat, ignoring the pointed stares, and began serving himself roast chicken.

To his mild surprise, however, the usual intense scrutiny directed his way seemed somewhat toned down. While he still drew hostile glances, the main buzz of conversation throughout the hall seemed focused elsewhere. Listening closely, Arthur picked up fragments concerning Rita Skeeter’s latest explosive scoop – something about Hagrid’s parentage, revealing his half-giant heritage.

Ah, Arthur thought with cynical amusement. Skeeter provides a new target for public outrage. It seemed Hagrid’s misfortune was Arthur’s temporary gain, distracting the student body just enough to lessen the immediate focus on his own transgressions. The wizarding world’s capacity for fickle judgment never ceased to amaze him.

He wasn’t off the hook entirely, however. As he was reaching for a bread roll, a cold voice spoke directly beside his ear.

“Hayes.”

Arthur didn’t jump, though the sudden proximity was unexpected even for Snape’s stealthy approach. He turned calmly. “Professor.”

“The Headmaster wishes to speak with you. Immediately.” Snape’s expression was thunderous, his normally pale complexion tinged with anger.

“Of course,” Arthur replied calmly, rising from the table. “Lead the way.”

Snape led him not to Dumbledore’s office but to a small antechamber off the Great Hall—the same room where the champions had gathered after the Goblet of Fire had selected them. Inside, Dumbledore waited with Professor McGonagall, both wearing grave expressions.

“Mr. Hayes,” Dumbledore began, his usual twinkle noticeably absent. “I trust you had a productive holiday?”

“Very,” Arthur replied simply.

McGonagall’s nostrils flared. “Do you have any idea of the chaos your disappearance caused? The diplomatic incident you created? The flagrant disrespect you showed?”

“I didn’t disappear, Professor,” Arthur countered calmly. “My name was on the departure list. I merely went home for the holidays, exercising the same privilege afforded to dozens of other students.”

“You were expected at the Yule Ball!” McGonagall snapped, her Scottish accent thickening with her anger. “As a Triwizard champion! Your presence was required! You were to open the dance!”

“With all due respect, Professor,” Arthur replied, maintaining his level tone, “I made it a point to check the official Triwizard Rulebook after my selection. While participation in the tasks is magically binding, attendance at associated social functions, such as the Yule Ball, is described as traditional, not mandatory. There is no clause forcing me to attend.”

“This isn’t about rules, Mr. Hayes,” Dumbledore said quietly. “It’s about responsibility and respect.”

Arthur met the headmaster’s gaze steadily. “I understand your position, sir. But I had prior commitments that couldn’t be rescheduled.”

“What commitments could possibly have been more important than representing your school?” McGonagall demanded.

Arthur allowed a small, weary sigh. “Professor, must we have this discussion? Headmaster, Professor Snape, you are both aware of my general… lack of enthusiasm for many aspects of the wizarding world and its traditions. Attending a formal dance simply didn’t rank highly on my list of priorities compared to other pressing matters.” He paused, letting the implications hang in the air. “Frankly, almost anything else would be more important.”

McGonagall looked momentarily speechless, shocked at his bluntness. “But your future! Don’t you realise the damage you’re doing? Alienating influential figures, flouting traditions… you’ll have no prospects in wizarding society acting like this!”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Prospects, Professor? For a Muggle-born? Your optimism is admirable, but perhaps misplaced. While your warnings might hold weight for pure-bloods or even well-connected half-bloods, let’s be realistic. How many Muggle-borns truly secure influential positions within the Ministry or other established magical institutions? From my research, the vast majority struggle to find decent wizarding employment after graduation. Many end up taking remedial Muggle studies courses simply to find work in the non-magical world because the doors here remain effectively closed. So, forgive me if I don’t see ’wizarding prospects’ as something worth compromising my own goals for. There is no future here for people like me.”

McGonagall opened her mouth, then closed it again, unable to refute his bleak assessment. The uncomfortable truth silenced her.

Snape, who had been watching the exchange with simmering resentment, finally stepped forward. “Fifty points from Slytherin for insubordination and dereliction of duty as a champion, Headmaster. And detentions every evening until the second task.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “That seems appropriate, Severus. Mr. Hayes has broken no explicit rules, but his actions certainly warrant consequences.”

“I’ll gladly accept the point loss,” Arthur said coolly, “but I won’t be attending any detentions. As I haven’t broken any actual rules, I don’t believe punishment is warranted.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You think you have a choice in the matter, Hayes?”

“Indeed, I do,” Arthur replied coolly. “Expulsion holds little fear for me now. I am legally an adult wizard. I can keep my wand. Graduation from Hogwarts is largely symbolic at this stage; I could sit my NEWTs independently at any ICW-approved centre should I choose. More importantly,” he added, locking eyes with Snape, “as a magically bound Triwizard champion, Hogwarts is contractually obligated to host me and facilitate my participation in the remaining tasks. Attempting to expel me before the Tournament concludes would likely incur significant magical penalties for the school, wouldn’t you agree, Headmaster? I have, as you might have noticed, read the rulebook quite thoroughly.”

A tense silence filled the room. Snape looked ready to hex Arthur on the spot, but Dumbledore raised a calming hand.

“Enough,” the Headmaster said, his voice weary. “There is little point arguing semantics. Detentions would likely prove… unproductive in this instance. You will need your time to prepare for the challenges ahead, Mr. Hayes.” He fixed Arthur with a stern look. “I trust this means you will be attending, and participating in, the second task?”

“But of course, Headmaster,” Arthur confirmed readily. “Unlike the Yule Ball, the second task is explicitly covered by the magical contract I agreed to. I will be there.”

“See that you are.” Dumbledore’s tone left no room for doubt. “Very well. I suggest you return to the feast, Mr. Hayes. I imagine your… return… has generated some interest among your housemates.”

“I certainly hope their interest isn’t overly demonstrative,” Arthur remarked dryly. “I should hate to cause Madam Pomfrey any additional work so early in the term.”

Without waiting for a reply, Arthur gave a polite nod to the assembled professors and exited the antechamber, leaving behind three powerful magic users grappling with the frustrating reality of a student who simply refused to play by their established rules.

The game, Arthur mused as he walked back into the Great Hall, was far more interesting when you understood how to bend the rules without breaking them. And even more interesting when you didn’t care about the rules.

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