Chapter 4
Cornelius Fudge adjusted his glasses as he walked down the dimly lit corridor of the Ministry of Magic, a faint spring in his step. The air was filled with an odd mixture of celebration and tension following the demise of Voldemort. The Ministry officials were in high spirits, drinking in the aftermath of the conflict, yet in one corner, there lurked a darkness that Fudge was all too aware of. He could feel the weight of the uncertainty around him as he approached his office.
This particular day promised to be both significant and treacherous. The arrival of Dolores Umbridge, a new recruit at the Ministry, was unexpected yet fortuitous. He had always found her to be a curious mix—a half-blood with a penchant for authority, having grown up in the Muggle world, she personified the complexities of their new societal framework. With a dismissive wave, he motioned for her to enter.
“Minister Fudge, you wanted to see me, sir?” Dolores spoke, her voice a little too sweet, a practiced note that hid underlying resentment.
“Ah, Dolores, yes, please have a seat. I have something to discuss with you,” he replied, indicating the chair across from his desk. The office was well-appointed, but the atmosphere crackled with underlying tension as Dolores seated herself.
“Miss Umbridge,” he started, deliberately prolonging the moment, “I heard that you are half-blood and that you were born and raised in the Muggle world. Is that true?”
At this, her lips pressed together, and a flicker of irritation crossed her features. She hated these reminders, these subtle nods to her ancestry, an elephant in the room she tried desperately to ignore. “Yes, that’s true,” she finally said, her tone clipped. “Why are you asking?”
Fudge smiled benignly, his mind racing with possibilities. This was a chance to manipulate the situation to his advantage. “To answer your question, Miss Umbridge, I need your help in a personal matter,” he said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial air.
Her curiosity piqued, she leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “What could a Minister possibly need from someone like me?”
“Let’s just say this is a way to exact a form of revenge, and you will assist me in locating a Muggle girl to become the daughter-in-law of the Lestrange clan,” he declared, reveling in her startled expression.
Dolores blinked in disbelief, her mind racing to process the implications of his request. “The Lestranges? But… why would you want a Muggle girl involved with them? That sounds—”
“Dangerous? Unwise? Immoral?” He interjected smoothly. “That’s precisely the point, my dear Dolores. The Lestranges have lost everything, their names tainted, their legacies in ruins after Voldemort’s defeat. But a Muggle girl? Just imagine the chaos it could unleash. The darkness of their past clashing with the simplicity of the Muggle world. It’s poetic, really. And you, as a half-blood who understands both worlds, would be my perfect liaison.”
Dolores's mind raced with possibilities and consequences, the thrill of an underhanded mission igniting an unsettling excitement within her. “But do you have someone in mind?” she asked cautiously, already plotting the web of deception she would need to weave.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “I need you to explore the Muggle world, find a girl who fits the mold—innocent, naïve, or desperate someone who would never suspect what awaits her. You’ll know her when you see her.” He leaned back in his chair, the satisfaction of his deceptive plan washing over him.
“And what if I refuse?” Dolores’s voice steeled, challenging the subtle coercion in Fudge’s request.
“Ah, but think of the possibilities,” he urged. “You could ascend to heights within the Ministry that your kind has rarely achieved, be a voice for those who share your heritage, garner respect and fear alike. They would have to recognize you, Dolores.”
Her expression wavered as greed and ambition warred within her. Was it worth the risk? Embarking on this dark, twisted endeavor could lead to unprecedented power.
“Very well, Minister Fudge,” she said finally, an unyielding determination taking root. “I’ll do it. For the Ministry. And for my own… advancement.”
“Excellent,” Fudge declared, a glimmer of triumph in his eyes. “Welcome to the beginning of our little game, Dolores. We shall make quite a stir together.”
As Dolores rose from her seat, a plan forming in her mind, she felt the thrill of danger—they were both embarking on an insidious journey, seeking to unite the Muggle and magical worlds in ways that could only end in chaos. And in the echo of her footsteps in the corridor, the darkness of that path beckoned.