Chapter 8
Petunia Evans felt the weight of the cloak around her shoulders as she followed Dolores Umbridge through the marble-lined corridors of the Ministry of Magic. She had never imagined herself in such a place, navigating through a world that had always seemed so foreign and removed from her mundane existence. Yet here she was, being led to a meeting that could redefine everything.
When they reached Cornelius Fudge’s office, Dolores knocked on the door with an authoritative hand. The voice within was deep and commanding. “Who is it?”
“Minister Fudge,” Dolores replied confidently, “it’s Dolores. Umbridge and I brought a guest.”
The door swung open as if it had a mind of its own, and Petunia stepped inside hesitantly. Cornelius Fudge sat behind a grand oak desk, his robes shimmering subtly in the light. He looked up from a pile of papers, and a warm smile crept across his face.
“Good to see you again, Dolores. It seems that the mission I sent you on was a success, wasn’t it?” His gaze shifted to Petunia, and she felt both exposed and scrutinized under his watchful eyes.
Dolores leaned slightly, a hint of pride in her voice. “Minister Fudge, allow me to introduce Miss Petunia Evans—the Muggle girl that you asked for.”
As Petunia revealed her face, Fudge’s expression became even more welcoming. “It’s truly a pleasure to meet you, Miss Evans. Please, have a seat.”
She settled into the chair across from him, feeling the opulence of the office pressing in on her. “Dolores told me that you wanted to discuss a role I’m to play in your... plan,” Petunia started, her heart racing with uncertainty.
Fudge smiled slightly, his demeanor disarmingly calm. “Ah yes, it’s quite straightforward, really. I would like you to marry into one of the most notorious families in our Wizarding community—the Lestrange clan.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. “So you want me to marry into this notorious family?” Petunia asked, her voice trembling with skepticism.
Fudge nodded. “That’s correct.”
Confusion knitted her brow. “But why choose me of all people? I’m a Muggle. I don’t have a drop of magic in my blood, and if I’m not mistaken, they despise ordinary people like me.”
“Precisely,” he replied, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and determination. “The answer to your question is simple: to destroy their reputation from within and to attain their bloodline.”
Petunia felt anger rising within her. “You think of me as a pawn in your game!” she shot back. “Do you have a history with the Lestranges? What if they refuse? Your plans will crumble.”
Fudge chuckled, an unsettling sound. “Miss Evans, they will agree. If they don’t, I assure you they will face severe consequences.”
Petunia shook her head fiercely. “No, it’s too dangerous. I refuse to marry into that family.”
Dolores, who had been watching the exchange with a glint of amusement, leaned toward Petunia. “My dear, you don’t have a choice. Have you forgotten that we were the ones who paid off your debts? If you refuse, you will wish you never crossed paths with us.”
Petunia glared at Dolores, her spirit faltering under the weight of their threat. “Then who will I be marrying?” she asked reluctantly.
“Rabastan Lestrange, the youngest of the clan,” Fudge said, his sly smile reemerging.
Dolores produced a photo of Rabastan, an undeniably handsome man with striking features and a compelling aura. Petunia couldn’t deny that he was more appealing than her sister’s insufferable boyfriend, James Potter, but a shiver crept down her spine as dread settled in her gut.
“And what if they decide to eliminate me when no one is watching?” she inquired, fear creeping into her voice.
“Don’t worry. You will be regularly checked on. I will have Aurors inspecting your home to ensure your safety,” Fudge assured her.
“How reassuring,” Petunia replied sarcastically, her stomach turning at the thought.
She began to regret agreeing to anything Dolores had proposed. Yet, she also understood her precarious position. After the financial support, she felt she had little choice but to comply.
“Consider this an opportunity, Miss Evans,” Fudge continued, leaning toward her with a conspiratorial whisper. “An opportunity for you to climb the ladder in our society.”
Petunia looked up, steeling herself. If she had no choice, perhaps she could find a way to twist their plan to her advantage. “All right,” she said, defiance lacing her tone. “I’ll marry him.”
“Excellent choice, my dear,” Fudge replied, an eagerness lighting up his face. He turned to Dolores. “Miss Umbridge, would you be so kind as to take miss Evans under your wing? She needs a place to stay.”
He handed Dolores a sack of gold coins. “Teach her everything she needs to know about the Sacred 28 families and make sure she learns proper etiquette.”
Dolores nodded, her expression gleeful as she beckoned Petunia to follow her. “Come along now, Miss Evans. We have much to do.”
As they turned to leave, Fudge called after her, “We shall be meeting far more often than you think, Miss Evans—or should I refer to you as Madame Lestrange?”
Petunia spun around, her face a mask of resolve. “Yes, we will be meeting frequently in the near future.”
What neither Fudge nor Dolores realized was that they had awakened something dormant within Petunia, something fierce. For all their planning and manipulation, they had underestimated her resolve. They may have thought they had complete control, but Petunia Evans—now tangled in their treacherous games—was determined to reclaim her agency, no matter the outcome. Little did they know, they had set her on a path of unexpected rebellion that could shatter the very foundations of their schemes.